The fresh-faced ingénue approach wasn’t working. I was boring him already.
‘What, you like being humiliated, is that your thing? Big rich guy, never told no, gets treated like a prince but really wants someone to reflect his own sneaking sense of failure back at him? Or maybe you like being hit. Really smacked about. Or is it that you want to get fucked? You’re not gay, oh no heaven forbid, but you want someone to push you down and dominate you? It’s not that interesting, honestly. You think your fetishes are unique or different? They’re not, mate, I assure you.’
That made him laugh. Men often laugh with surprise when they find women funny, as though it’s a skill we’re not expected to possess. Lee was engaged again now, I’d won him back. My dignity took huge knocks while I tried to rid the world of this awful family. The end result would be worth it, of that I had no doubt, but hanging out in Marbella, digging up weeds at a nature centre and now talking about sex with my uncle … it was certainly a trial. In a funny way it reminded me of a line from Sense and Sensibility: ‘The rent here may be low but I believe we have it on very hard terms.’
‘Hard to impress, aren’t you?’ He looked around, as though he were preparing to divulge state secrets. ‘OK, Miss Seen-It-All, I like a bit of choking. Belts, scarves, whatever works. Losing your breath as you edge towards glory. It’s fucking wild, I tell you. I’ve always liked it. I guess some big-brained psychiatrist would say it’s because I nearly drowned in the family pool when I was ten or some nonsense, but who the fuck knows.’
I looked down at his hand pointedly. ‘Does your wife indulge?’ I said, smiling at his wedding ring. ‘I assume she’d like to choke you occasionally.’
To his dubious credit, Lee didn’t even try to look ashamed. ‘My wife is … she’s classy. She ignores some of my pastimes and I let her get on with redesigning our kitchen for the eighteenth time. She acts like an old lady half the time now. I get it, she’s got a good life out of me, that’s the deal with marriage. But men and women are different species, you know? I’ve still got desires. If she doesn’t want to help me with them, she can’t really be too surprised when I look elsewhere.’
At that moment, Lee’s other mate barrelled towards us, spilling his drink and bumping into a group of people standing nearby.
‘Oh Christ, that’s Benj done for the night,’ said Lee. ‘Nice to meet you, love, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ I swallowed down the need to visibly wince and waved goodbye with one hand as he took command of his friend and steered him out of the bar.
I gave it five more minutes to be sure that they’d gone, finished my horrible wine, and made an exit, giving a wide berth to the nervous couple who were now arguing by the door, mascara pooling below the wife’s eyes. The girls in reception gave me a cheery wave as I left, not surprised by how short my stay was. Perhaps a lot of people nip in to sex parties?
I spent my cab ride home with all sorts of interesting ideas forming. What a generous man my uncle was. In just twenty minutes, he’d given me a free drink, and a lead on how to kill him. Who says the ultra-rich don’t help the needy?
*
I fell asleep during my massage, despite the harsh pressure the therapist applied, and then had a long bath, re-reading my battered old copy of The Second Sex before shaving my legs and giving my hair a deep condition. I began reading feminist literature aged 16, when Jimmy’s mum became concerned at how much time I was spending with Jimmy and his mates. I think she thought that a lack of female role models might lead me down a path where I would be completely unprepared to deal with the disadvantages that my sex would throw up. This was typically well intentioned of Sophie, but it also showed just how privileged she was. A wealthy white woman, insulated from actual discrimination in just about every way possible but very keen to talk about it in general outraged terms. The Latimers and their friends were masters of this – shaking their heads about the local corner shop closing, when they always sailed past it to go to the next-door deli, talking loudly about giving their cleaner sick pay at a dinner party but getting rid of her when she could no longer work Wednesdays. ‘Very disappointing, she’s been with us for ten years and Tuesday just doesn’t work as well for us.’
Did she think that I had no understanding of the way the world treated women? I understood how the system was stacked against women long before I ever knew the words to describe how we are marginalised, discarded, belittled. I saw it chip away at my mother day by day. Brought up by strict parents who had rigid views about how girls should behave （who spurned her when she decided to live her life a different way）， prized for her looks until one day she wasn’t, used by a man for fun until he got bored. Working hard in a series of low-paid jobs where she was never appreciated. Raising a child alone without it counting for a thing.