The High Places by Fiona McFarlane Read Free Book Online Page A

thinking much about it, Henry thrust one arm into the water that poured from the fountain until it had soaked far beyond the elbow of his navy suit, and he held it there, or rather the water seemed to hold it, although it was cold and Ellie begged him to stop. He saw her confusion, but from a distance. He felt her kiss his face and submerge her own arm in order to take his hand and draw it out of the water; only then did he seem to be free of the fountain. They held each other and cried, both of them – in public, in Hyde Park, with other lovers and lustful young men skirting them, whistling and smiling and making comments. Henry considered his behaviour remarkable; he felt Ellie’s warm tears and the compassionate pressure of her shaking body, but was unable to believe that he was physically present for any of it.
    Their wet arms chilled them both. She led him through the park and down William Street, and this time, instead of going to a restaurant, they went to a hotel she knew of – how did she know? – and there she let him see all of her, all at once. There was no doubting her beauty and her devotion, and the most extraordinary thing about her giving herself up to him was that he felt, equally or perhaps with even more certainty, that he was giving himself to her. The room had a sour smell like turning fruit, not unpleasant. Afterward, they lay together, damp and listless, until he felt himself return to his body, and then he forced them both into action: dressed her and himself, took her out to the street to find a taxi, and gave her the money to pay for it. He walked to Central station in a state of luminous calm. It was two weeks until the wedding.
    *   *   *
    The next day, after work, Kath was waiting for him at the hamburger place.
    â€˜I don’t know what you think you’re doing,’ he said in a low voice, with a polite smile, as if someone might be watching them.
    â€˜I stopped by for a bite,’ Kath said. ‘It’s a free country, last I heard.’ She was pert and proud. There was a new copper to her hair.
    â€˜Suit yourself,’ he said. He ordered his hamburger at the counter, distracted, and Kath called out, ‘No onions!’ People turned to look at her, as they always did. He took a deep breath. ‘No onions,’ he said. Nothing wrong, he thought, with sharing a quick meal with a good-looking woman, a friend of the family. He kept his eye on the station for any sign of Ellie, although he had already walked her to the train and ushered her with tender regret (on both sides) to her Friday class.
    â€˜You look … greenish,’ Kath said. ‘A bit green about the gills. You all right, Henry? Not eaten up by remorse, are you? Now that you’ve thrown away the best thing you ever had?’ Kath laughed, delighted at herself.
    â€˜What’s all this about?’ His hamburger arrived, steaming. But the solitary pleasure of it was entirely lost.
    â€˜I just wanted to know if you were off to the dogs tonight,’ Kath said. ‘I fancied it, is all. Fancied a night out with a friend.’
    He had lifted his hamburger and now there was no putting it down. This placed him at a disadvantage. The thick slice of beetroot threatened to slide onto his plate – it purpled his bread and his tongue – and juice of some kind, silky with fat, ran over his fingers.
    â€˜I’m getting married in two weeks,’ he said between bites.
    â€˜Where’s the bride, then? Shouldn’t you be painting the town? It’s Friday night.’
    There was something submerged about Kath’s face – something private and sly. Henry disliked it. It reminded him of how well suited they used to be; of how they’d both liked to cultivate a secret life to which they could make coy allusions.
    â€˜She’s got a class,’ he said.
    â€˜And you’re not invited?’
    He snorted. The final bites of a