‘So what were you drinking?’
‘Water.’
‘And Kinsey?’
‘The man was out of his head. And very happy.’
‘Was that unusual?’
‘Yeah.’ She smiled. ‘On both counts.’
They’d stayed in the pub for maybe another half an hour before deciding on a takeaway. The best Indian in Exmouth didn’t do deliveries so she’d volunteered to drive into town and get the food. Kinsey, she said, had made a list. In the end the curry had been a big disappointment. Not that anyone was in the mood to complain.
‘So how long were you in the apartment?’
‘Not that long. Jake was ill, poor lamb. And the guys were knackered.’
‘How did you get home?’
‘By car. I was the only one sober so I drove. It’s a little sports car — you probably saw it — just room for Milo and me. I called a taxi for the others.’
‘What time did you get back?’
‘I don’t know. Past midnight but not that late.’
‘And then?’
‘We crashed. Milo was asleep in the car. Never marry an athlete.’
‘You’re married? You and Milo?’
‘No.’ The smile again. ‘Marriage is a killer. Look at Jake.’
The phrase hung between them. Marriage is a killer.
‘What exactly do you mean?’ Suttle asked.
‘I mean that marriage gets in the way. It stops life in its tracks. It makes you lazy. You stop trying.’
‘Is that what happened to Kinsey?’
‘Big time.’ She nodded. ‘Big time.’
‘He talked to you about it?’
‘Of course he did. It was hard to stop him sometimes. I don’t know what he and that woman had to begin with, but marriage killed it. Stone dead.’
‘That woman?’
‘Sonya. He’d show me photos. She was really attractive. Great eyes. He couldn’t understand how she’d changed. He couldn’t understand what she’d become.’
‘And you sympathised?’
‘Not at all. I told him it was his own fault. Poor Jake never looked hard enough, never listened. He lived in a bubble, that man. He needed to get out more. He needed to connect.’
‘You helped him that way?’
‘Of course. We did sessions together, up in his apartment. It’s all about vitality. It’s all about awareness, about tapping into your hidden energy. I’d write simple movement scores, and when the weather was OK we’d go out on the balcony so we could reach for the river, for the beach, for the wind. Jake always found it hard to relax. He’d never close his eyes. I remember that.’
Suttle was trying to imagine Kinsey out on the balcony, showcasing this woman to the world at large, an image totally in keeping with everything else he knew about the man.
‘Was he good at this stuff?’
‘He was crap at it. Like I say, he could never relax. It was always the next thing and the next thing with Jake. I’d tell him to stop, to mark time, to slip his life into neutral and park it for a while. That way he’d be able to give himself to something bigger, something vaguer, something he didn’t necessarily understand, but I think that was beyond him.’
‘You charged for these sessions?’
‘Of course.’
‘How much?’
‘A hundred pounds a go.’
‘That’s a lot.’
‘You’re right. I normally charge forty. That was his price, not mine.’
‘And how often would this happen?’
‘It depended. Sometimes twice a week, sometimes more often. Other times he’d be away on business so we might just meet for a Friday-night session.’
‘And this went on for how long?’
‘More than a year.’
‘And he got better at it? He started to relax?’
‘Never.’
‘So why did he carry on?’
‘Because he fancied me. It was obvious. He wanted to shag the arse off me, and the only way he could do that was by getting me up to that apartment of his. A hundred quid for an hour of dance and movement? A girl could do a lot worse.’
‘But was that enough for him? Dance and movement?’
‘Of course not. Sometimes I shagged him as well.’
‘For more money?’
‘Yes.’ She yawned.
‘How much?’
‘Five hundred quid a pop. He was crap in bed too. Five minutes, tops.’
‘That’s a hundred quid a minute.’
‘Yeah. I tried the oils and everything. I even brought candles sometimes, but he wasn’t interested. Sex was something he needed. It had to be got out of the way. Then he felt better and he could move on to the next thing.’
‘Which was?’
‘Work. Always work. He was into property development. He tried to explain it to me one time, tried to get me interested, but I’m useless at all that stuff. Told him not to bother.’
Suttle looked up from his notes. He’d rarely stumbled on someone so recklessly candid. Constantine, at last, was beginning to pick up speed.
‘Did Milo know about this?’
‘Of course he did.’
‘He didn’t mind?’
‘He thought it was funny.’
‘Funny?’
‘Yeah. He knew Jake like we all did, and if you want the truth I think he felt sorry for the man. What you have to understand about Milo is that the guy’s a bunny, a child. What we have is brilliant. We fuck like angels. He knows that, and he knows I know it, and it makes him feel very good about everything. So when I come home and tell him about Kinsey, how hopeless the guy is, how rich he’s making us, it just makes everything even better.’
‘No jealousy?’
‘None.’
‘And Kinsey? Did it stop with dance and movement and the odd shag?’
For the first time Suttle caught a tiny hint of wariness in her face. She wanted to know exactly what he meant.
‘I get the impression Kinsey wanted to own everything,’ he said.
‘Including me?’
‘That’s my question.’
‘By taking me away from Milo? By moving me into his apartment? Some kind of trophy fuck?’
‘Yes.’
‘But why would I do that? When I’ve got Milo?’
‘I’ve no idea. I’m just asking.’
She nodded. Then her head went down and she picked at a nail.
‘You’re right,’ she said at last. ‘But he knew there’d never be a way.’
‘And Milo?’
‘He knew too. Which is why he never even asked the question.’
She got to her feet. Her mug was empty. She needed more hot water. Suttle didn’t move. He wanted to know about the film Kinsey was funding.
‘That was for Milo.’
‘I know. But it was you who got the money out of Kinsey.’
‘That’s true. He’d give me anything.’
‘A two grand down payment and forty-five to come? Have I got that right?’
‘Yeah. Jake was minted, though. That sort of money was nothing to him.’
‘How do you know?’
‘He told me. It was a little boast. He thought it might impress me.’
‘And did it?’
‘Never. A day with Milo is better than a lifetime with a man like that. He’d want to bang you up. He’d want to own you. I don’t want to be owned. I want to be set free.’
‘And Milo does that?’
‘All the time. And you know something else? He’s not even aware of how good he is. There’s not an ounce of malice in that man. He’s truly beautiful.’
She talked about the film they’d wanted to make and how excited Milo had been at the concept they’d both shaped. The spirit of the river. The ancient ghosts of long-dead Dutchmen haunting the Warren. And a love affair untainted by either time or circumstance.
‘We shot a trial sequence. Milo called it a taster.’
‘I’ve seen it. He showed me.’
‘Us getting it on?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you think?’
‘Very impressive. Did Kinsey see it?’
‘Yes. It was his idea. He’d read the script and when he asked for a taster we left the choice to him.’
‘What did he say when he saw it?’
‘He thought it was great. That’s why he agreed to fund the rest of the movie. Did Milo tell you about that?’