And even when I put the (scratchy, odd-smelling) blankets over my head and pretended I was asleep she still didn’t stop. I tried ignoring her and faking deep, regular breathing, but she said ‘Rachel, Rachel, are you asleep?’ Then when I didn’t answer she shook my shoulder and said sharply ‘Rachel! Are you ASLEEP?’
It was awful, I was nearly in tears with exhaustion and frustration. I felt as if I was a thin sheet of glass about to shatter under unbearable pressure. If only she would SHUT UP! I thought, as molten rage surged through my veins.
I was so angry that I would have glowed in the dark. At least I would have if she ever put the fucking light out!
Then I wanted a drug. Or twenty. I would have given anything for a couple of handfuls of Valium. Or sleeping tablets. Or heroin. Or anything really. All contributions gratefully received.
I craved chemicals. I didn’t think that wanting drugs under such unbearable conditions made me a drug addict. Because I also craved a sawn-off shotgun. And that didn’t make me a murderer. Not under normal circumstances, anyway.
To drown her out and the awfulness of it all, I tried to think of something nice. But the only thoughts that came to me were ones of Luke.
15
The first morning I found myself in bed with Luke I could have died.
It took me a moment or two, after I woke up, to realize that I wasn’t in my own bed. ‘Mmmm,’ I thought contentedly, my eyes still closed, ‘I wonder who’s bed I am in? I hope it’s somebody nice.’ Then, with the shocking impact of a bucket of ice-cold water, it all rushed back to me. The Rickshaw Rooms, the Real Men, the carry-on in the taxi, the sex with Luke, and worst of all, the fact that I was currently located in his bed.
In my head, I sat bolt unright, tore at my hair and screamed, How could I? In reality though, I lay quiet and still, very keen not to wake Luke. Very keen indeed.
My senses had returned with the daylight and I was in the horrors. Not just that I’d slept with one of the Real Men, but that I hadn’t had the wit to wake up in the middle of the night, dress in the dark and tiptoe from the room, leaving the man, my earrings and something embarrassing like my cold sore ointment behind me, never to be again retrieved. Not that I’d have cared, I’d have happily left a tube of piles ointment on his pillow as a farewell note, if I could only have been spirited out of there.
Trying not to move, I carefully opened my eyes. I was facing a wall. From the heat and the sound of someone else’s breathing, I gathered there was another person in the bed.
Someone between me and escape.
Like a caged rat, my brain lurched hither and thither, wondering where my clothes were. Oh, how I bitterly rued that I hadn’t woken at three in the morning!
No, I had to be honest and admit that the problem had started a bit earlier than that. How I passionately regretted the moment I let Luke Costello kiss me. In fact, I decided the rot had set in the moment I put foot inside the Rickshaw Rooms. Why couldn’t the bouncer have just told us to fuck off like they did usually? The more I thought of it, it became clear that the day I’d first heard of New York was the start of all the trouble. If only I’d liked Prague none of this would have happened. If only they’d had a couple more night clubs there.
I lay rigid, my head racing back through my life. If only I’d got that place on the hotel-management course in Dublin, if only I’d never met Brigit, she was a bad influence, that girl, if only I’d been born a boy…
Just as I had traced the origin of my problem back to the great disaster of my mother giving birth to me, I heard a voice. ‘Morning sweetheart,’ someone – Luke, I could only hope, unless the boys shared more than their leather trousers – said. So he was awake. That scuppered the last of my remaining hope that I could slink out without disturbing him. If I hadn’t been pretending to be a mute quadraplegic I would have put my face in my hands and wept.
To my alarm, I felt an arm snake around my naked body and pull me across the bed. Very macho behaviour, as I was no featherweight.
I slithered smoothly over the sheets until I came into contact with another body. A man’s one. I brisded at the nerve of him. I had no intention in joining Mr Hairy Real Man Luke in an early morning romp. He had got lucky, very, very lucky with me the previous evening. For a moment I wondered if I would get away with saying he took advantage of me, maybe even accuse him of a bit of date rape, and reluctantly decided against it. But it had been a terrible mistake on my part and it would never happen again.
‘Hello,’ he murmured to the side of my head. I didn’t answer. I had my back to him and I would not, could not look at him.
Instead I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for him to go away or die or something.
I had arrived at his side in exactly the same position as I had been in at the far side of the bed. While I lay as stiff and unyielding as a corpse he began to slowly stroke my hair away from the tender skin of my neck. Appalled at his cheek, I barely allowed myself to breathe. How dare he, I thought in anger. Well, he needn’t think I’ll be soft and pliant and malleable and eager. I’ll keep perfectly still so that he’ll lose interest in me and I’ll be able to escape.
Then I felt a strange sensation on my thigh, so gentle and faint that at first I thought that maybe I was imagining it. But I wasn’t. Luke was lightly running his other hand along the side of my thigh, raising all the downy little hairs. Tingly and shivery. Up to my hipbone, down to my knee, back up to my hipbone…
I swallowed.
I was almost hysterical to get out of there. But I didn’t want to make any grand gesture like flinging back the sheet (and maybe allowing myself the luxury of elbowing Luke in the kidneys) until I knew where I could locate at least some of my clothes.
Why couldn’t we have drawn the curtains the previous evening? There was no hiding any of my nakedness in the harsh morning light.
Luke’s hand strayed along my thigh and his other hand tickled and tingled at the nape of my neck. Then a very pleasant sensation around my neck sent electric sparks through my body. What was going on? Further investigation showed that Luke had started to gently bite me.
It had gone too far!
I had to leave. But how?
I could brazen it out, I thought desperately. I could just hop out of bed and act as if I wasn’t mortified about groping round on the floor looking for my clothes. If I could only find my knickers and at least get my arse under wraps, I wouldn’t be so worried about the rest of me…