Steel Kiss , livre ebook

Andrews UK - Alex Woolf

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38 pages

English

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Each of these nine stories explores a symptom of that pathology we call love. We meet a volatile woman whose husband betrays her once too often; a man who takes advantage of an amnesiac girl; a woman prepared to break a man's spirit in order to win his heart; and a young man who obsesses about strangers on trains. We learn the corrosive power of secrets over the long course of a marriage, the way the pressure of years of conformity can explode in a single shocking act, and how love of the patriotic kind can, for a young soldier, end up brutalising the soul. By turns disturbing, funny, bittersweet and poignant, these are love stories of the darkest and most dangerous kind.

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Short story

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Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	27 mai 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781849897433
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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THE STEEL KISS

TA LES OF LOVE, OBSESSION, MADNESS AND DECEIT

By
Alex Woolf

Publisher Information

The Steel Kiss published in 2011 by
Andrews UK Limited

www.andrewsuk.com

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

Copyright © Alex Woolf

The right of Alex Woolf to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

New-Leaf Time

The new potatoes were bubbling nicely on the stove. The garlic sauce was perfect; maybe just another few twists with the pepper grinder, a final squeeze of lemon juice. The red snappers were approaching a glorious silver-gold complexion beneath the grill. Miriam fussed over each element of the meal. It was essential to get everything right. Tonight of all nights, everything had to be perfect.
She looked at her watch. 7.30 pm. Any minute now, he would be coming through the door with a grin as large as the bouquet of yellow roses in his arms. She smiled. It was new-leaf time. Time to put to rest once and for all the troubles of the past. She was not the type to bear grudges. If he did a bad thing, then she would get angry. Boy, he knew all about that! But once it was out of her system, she quickly forgot about it. And in any case, Jay was not someone you could stay angry with for long.
It was time to decant her vinaigrette into the salad. She gave it a few stirs and poured it in a careful circle over the lamb’s lettuce, wild rocket and red chard, which she then tossed using the large wooden spoons. She glanced at the large iron saucepan on the draining board – a wedding present, given to them sixteen years ago today. Virtually everything in this kitchen – this house – was a reminder of the years she and Jay had spent together. Most of them were good years, she was quick to remind herself.
The snappers were exuding a well-cooked smell. She went to check them. The tail and little fins were a crispy brown and the eyes were milk circles. She switched off the grill. Likewise the potatoes, which she drained in the sink. Then she placed the fish and the potatoes in the oven, turning it to a low heat. Well, he was a few minutes late. No matter. The trains from the City were very unreliable. She knew that because Jay had told her so on numerous occasions. She pictured him in his seat on the stalled train, drumming his fingers impatiently on his briefcase.

The wine stood waiting to be opened, corkscrew and two crystal glasses nearby. She made no move towards it, because that was Jay’s role. She enjoyed watching his neat, muscular movements as he stripped away the seal, and plunged the chrome corkscrew into the pink corkflesh. This evening it was really important for Jay to open the wine. The reasons were complex and would have been difficult to explain to an outsider. But she had the sense that last night a few matters weren’t quite resolved between them. Resolved on her side, but perhaps not on his. It was possible that Jay went to bed with the feeling that he had been slightly put in his place. Emasculated was too strong a word. Nevertheless, Miriam’s instinct was that he should be the one to open the wine tonight. It was the sort of minor ritual that conferred a pleasing sense of normality on their evenings, and might help to restore some equilibrium after the previous night’s little altercation.
In the meantime, she had a strong urge for a small glass right now, to ease the understandable nervousness in her stomach. After all, this was no ordinary wedding anniversary, it was a new beginning for them – ‘new-leaf time’, she had christened it last night, and Jay had seemed to agree that the term was appropriate. Then she remembered the opened bottle of white wine in the fridge. She poured herself slightly more than the half glass she’d intended, and took a deep sip. The crisp dry flavour filled her mouth and slipped refreshingly down her throat.
7.45. Any second now, she was certain, he’d be coming through that door, full of apologies for his lateness. He would have a big forgive-me grin on his face – that charming face that she loved to look at and hold and kiss. She could forgive him virtually anything because of that face of his. Trouble was, a lot of women liked it too. And Jay could be quite generous with his grin and that twinkling thing he did with his eyes. She pictured him at the office with that tart who used to do secretarial work for him. Deena, with the breathy voice, the common vowels, the patronising tone. Miriam had never met her, but she’d spoken to her on the phone quite a few times. For some reason she always imagined her with fat cheeks, small, calculating eyes and big hair, and a really tarty body, dressed for maximum effect. Deena had been the real heart-breaker, because of being the first, back when Miriam still believed in the perfection of their marriage. The girl had started calling at home, on the weekends, sometimes in tears. Jay had dismissed her as a lunatic. But Miriam got the truth out of him in the end. She had questioned him and badgered him about it until eventually he threw up his hands and confessed. Her fury that night had been magnficent. She had broken almost every plate and glass in the house, and nearly put him in hospital.
She smiled. Those days were behind them now, thank heavens! She took a triumphant sip of wine, and carried the salad through to the dining room where she placed it on the table. The china and the silverware gleamed in the overhead light. Soon it would be replaced by candlelight – the candles stood at the ready, tall, pink and slim in their silver holders. She had polished the cutlery, candle holders and napkin rings that morning, and they all shone exquisitely. Next to his place, at the head of the table, there lay an old and rather battered copy of the Holy Bible. It had been her parents’ once. The leather on its spine had softened and the gold leaf had blurred with handling. Jay might be surprised to find it there when he arrived at the table – neither of them were particularly religious – but Miriam had had an idea today, and the good book would definitely need to play its part.
Where was that man? Surely he could not be feeling sore about last night. Or worse, fearful. He should know by now that she did not bear grudges. She had been angry, sure – furious, even – but she also knew the meaning of mercy. He only had to think back to the morning after that first confrontation over Deena. She had been pretty terrifying that night, admittedly, but the next day she had been as meek as a maid, quietly tending his cuts and bruises. She had forgiven him with all her heart. Well, nearly all. If she was honest, something had gone out of her feeling for him then. Yes, it’s true she had been wrong to put him on a pedestal before – but she did that with people she loved. Maybe her friends were right and after that night her love was healthier – that is, more founded on reality. But it could never compare to her adoration of him at the time of their wedding, which had been as pure as – she looked again at the Bible – as a religious faith.
Miriam returned to the kitchen. Everything was ready now. There was really nothing else for her to do but wait. She stood in the centre of the room, cradling her glass of wine. Her eye fell for the second time on the large iron saucepan on the draining board – the wedding present. What was that doing there? She didn’t remember using it in the preparation of the meal last night. She lifted it, feeling her bicep tauten with its weight, and returned it to its hook above the stove. She chipped her nail slightly in the process. Well, that was the trouble with long nails. But they looked lovely under their coat of burgundy gloss. She’d taken care with her appearance tonight. She hoped he would realise the significance of the dress. She had worn it on her first date with him. All those years ago. It didn’t fit so well now; she’d put on a few pounds since then. Of course he would remember. Jay, for all his faults, had a brilliant memory for those sorts of details. If she asked him, he would be able to tell her exactly what they’d eaten that night. And the plot of the film.
Perhaps she hadn’t been clear enough in her words to him the previous night. She had definitely said 7.30. And he had nodded tiredly as he’d taken himself up to his bedroom. She remembered that tired nod as he had neared the landing. She wished she’d had the chance to remind him this morning, but she had slept till 9 o’clock, and he must have been long gone by then. It was now past eight. The fish was starting to wither in the oven. Rain was spattering the kitchen window. Miriam poured herself some more wine, finishing the bottle. She sat down at the table, trying to convince herself that he was simply a matter of yards away from that door. Any moment now he would burst in, shaking out his umbrella. Perhaps he had stopped to buy her a gift: a box of All Gold, perhaps. Or a bottle of Chanel No.5. It was an extra special evening, after all. Or maybe his train had been delayed or had broken down. Rain always made things late. She had to stay calm. He would be along any minute. And it would still be a perfect evening. Even if the fish wasn’t perfect, that didn’t have to be a bad omen. She