The fight turned tables, a boxer when hurt can be more dangerous... more vicious because he knows it’s the last chance... Harriet took it, took it and gave punch after punch to his heart. ‘He was perfect, Edward, perfect. Imagine what it felt like to hold his cold body in my arms — whisper his name, beg for his lungs to move... what was his name, can you think what I would have called your son, can that putrid, festering mind think... tell me his name?’
His mind reeled, he pressed his back against the wall. She came closer, closer, now she moved to stand in front of him, her arms stretching either side of him as she looked into his face. She whispered the name he already knew...
‘Freedom... I called him Freedom.’
Slowly he moved his arms around her as her body caved in. He cried for what he had done, he cried for his son... and at long last they wept together for their loss. Later they slept in each other’s arms, afraid to let go... drained... bound to each other as they had always been. Edward woke and felt for her body, but she was gone. He prayed he would be wrong, but he found her in the studio. This time, though, she allowed him to drive her to the doctor.
It was almost ten o’clock when Edward returned. Dewint made him fresh coffee and took it into the lounge. Edward stood staring into the fire, he turned a sheepish, sad face.
‘How is she, sir?’
‘Not too good, may be away for some time... I’ll be at the club if anyone wants me.’
Edward began his drinking again, staying out until the early hours of the morning. Dewint didn’t serve his breakfast often until noon. He always tapped nervously... afraid to wake him because he could have such terrible moods. This morning he was awake, and Dewint carried in his tray.
‘Mrs Barkley’s downstairs, sah... Mrs Barbara Barkley.’
Edward smiled, began to eat. ‘Show her up, and bring a bottle of champagne.’ Barbara walked in and tossed her mink on the bed. She noticed he was wearing only his pyjama bottoms, and the gold medallion around his neck.
‘Well, you proud of yourself? Alex says he’s tried to reason with you, now it’s my turn. He says you’ve been offered a lot of money for a percentage of the club. Well, I’ll match it if you back off, get rid of it.’
Dewint entered with the champagne and popped the cork, while Edward lay back, arms behind his head. Barbara waited until Dewint had gone then she sat down a good distance away. ‘Annabelle’s just married, everything is good right now, and Alex can’t afford to lose out on this thing he’s got going. Why do you do it, Edward? Why?’
Edward sipped his champagne and patted the bed for her to come and sit close. ‘Maybe I’m bored, maybe I’ve been through Alex’s trip and out the other side. I don’t care any more, I don’t give a fuck what the right people think of me, it doesn’t matter. You know, the only thing that does is money — need I say more? Look where it got you.’
Barbara threw the glass of champagne straight at his head. It splashed down the pillow and Edward laughed. ‘Do you really care what those stuffed shirts think? Who gives a shit? You got one life, Barbara, and I’ve spent most of mine licking other men’s fucking boots... Why don’t you get your clothes off and get into bed with me.’
Barbara slapped him and he caught her wrist. ‘Temper, temper... only teasing. But you can rest easy, I’ll be a good boy, no more headlines, all right? I was just bored, that’s all, don’t you ever get bored?’
He watched her sigh and pour herself another drink.
‘Now you’ve met the so-called English aristocrats, you telling me you really get on with those wankers?’
Barbara, walking to the window, asked him to refrain from speaking to her like a tart.
‘Ohhh, I’m sorry, I’ll mind my p’s and q’s, won’t use any naughty words in front of Her Ladyship. Why don’t you be honest, honey child, you’re as pissed off as I am...’
Barbara picked up her mink coat, slipped it round her shoulders. ‘I happen to like my life. Just because you have nothing worthwhile in yours, don’t think everyone feels the same way.’
She couldn’t have said anything worse. Edward threw back the bedclothes and stood, barring her exit. She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her and she tried to force him away. He held on, and she fought, kicked at him and scratched him, grabbed his hair. The leather thing holding it snapped, and his hair fell loose, down to his shoulders. Barbara resisted by letting her body go limp. ‘Please don’t, let me go, Edward. Don’t do this to me, please.’
He opened his arms, released her, and then cupped her face in his hands, gently. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry... go home to him, go home like a good girl.’
He moved back to the bed and sprang up on it, then flopped down like a child. The door closed and he glanced up; she was leaning against it. She began to unbutton her blouse, kicked off her shoes, and Edward, propped on one elbow, watched her. ‘You are a rare beauty, Barbara, you know that? Untie your hair.’
She sat on the edge of the bed and allowed him to toss her hairpins aside one by one... He eased her blouse away and with one finger unhooked her bra, kissing her shoulders, her back, and she leaned against him... He pulled her back until she lay across the bed, and he ran his hands through her hair. He began to ease her skirt off, and she made no move to either stop him or help him.
They lay side by side, one so fair, so blonde, and the other so dark...
‘You know, you look like him sometimes, and you both wear those medallions. What have you got on yours?’
Edward looked down at her and smiled. ‘Exactly what Alex has on his.’
He touched her breast, slowly tracing the nipple, then he whispered that perhaps she should just close her eyes and make believe he was Alex, and then she would be able to make regular visits...
‘Would you want me to?’
Edward kissed each of her breasts and said he would, he would like her here with him all the time. She held him, wrapped her arms around him and kissed his neck.
‘I want that too, you know I want that too.’
Edward hadn’t expected her to be quite so easy, but he did fancy her; she was a beauty. He made love to her gently, lovingly. She was slow to be aroused, she behaved straight, not seeming to want anything ‘unusual’... and it was not until he had come into her that she started. He wouldn’t have minded a quick snooze, but she rolled on top of him. ‘You go to sleep, Mr Barkley, and I’ll suffocate you.’
She put the pillow over his face, told him to keep still and not move, then she got off the bed, went to the champagne bucket and brought back a handful of ice cubes, dumped them on the bedside table. She took one and ran it gently along the side of his thigh. He squirmed.
‘No, no, don’t move, you’ll like it... wait, you’ll like it.’
Edward grasped the pillow and pulled it over his face as the ice slithered over his body, between his thighs, his balls, until he was jumping, writhing... but she kept pushing him down, started to kiss and rub his chest. He tossed the pillow aside. ‘Where else have you got an ice cube, madam?’
Barbara leaned back, laughing, and eased him into her.
‘My God, where did you learn all this — Alex?’
She moved on top of him and smiled, Alex had not had this treatment, he preferred something else... ‘I’ll try out Alex’s treatment on you after, he always likes it a certain way... now why don’t you shut up talking about him and enjoy it.’