“It didn’t matter to me, and I made sure she knew it. I wouldn’t let it matter. I was careful and she didn’t have pain. So we went along like that for years, acting as if nothing was wrong. Then we married, still acting as if nothing was wrong. And then, finally, I couldn’t act any longer. I knew she was just going through the motions for my sake, but she got no pleasure from it. How could she?”
“P’rhaps the closeness was enough for her? The intimacy between you, I mean.”
“Would it be enough for you?” And then less than a second later, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. The thing is, I began to dread sex. I started feeling like I was just using her to have what I wanted. Roll on, grind her, orgasm, roll off. The whole thing started to seem dehumanising, and I felt rotten. I just couldn’t continue.”
“But she was the one who wanted the break-up?”
“Yeah. That’s how it was.”
“When I came to your flat, you said she left you because you loved her too much. What did you mean?”
“I wanted to do something so that she could . . . I don’t know . . . enjoy being with me.”
“Sexually enjoy.”
“Right. So I began to search for some kind of solution. Any kind of solution. I didn’t even know what I was looking for. But when I found it—”
“What was it?”
“Plastic surgery to repair where she’d been cut. I told her about it. I’d found a specialist. But Teo wasn’t having any of it. She wouldn’t even make an appointment to be evaluated. I mean just to see if something was possible. I couldn’t work out why she didn’t want to know what could be done. Or not be done, as the case might’ve been. Because there was a chance, see. I wouldn’t let go of the subject. I couldn’t let it go. My whole focus was, ‘I want you to feel something. I want you to want me. I want you to want it, sex, the act, whatever.’ Ultimately, she’d had enough.”
Barbara nodded, but she was struck by something. “An evaluation?” She went to her shoulder bag where she’d left it on a chair in the sitting area. She brought out Teo Bontempi’s diary and opened it to the relevant page: July 24. She rejoined him and handed him the diary.
He looked down at it, then he looked up. “You’re thinking she went to someone? You’re thinking she actually was evaluated for surgery?”
“She got in touch with you. She wanted to speak with you. Is there anything else she might have wanted to speak with you about?”
“I don’t know. All I can tell you is that she wanted to talk face-to-face.”
“Good news? Bad news? Anything like that?”
“She didn’t give me a clue.” His gaze went unfocused again, as if he were putting together pieces of information. Barbara waited. He continued in that posture of thinking. Finally he said, “I could do with . . . Is there water?”
Barbara went to the fridge. She brought out an opened bottle of fizzy water. She poured him a glass. It had long ago gone flat. But he took it from her and drank it down. He stared at the credenza. Then he stood and walked to it, saying, “Where are the sculptures? The collection wasn’t stolen, was it? Teo has . . . she had . . . a collection of African sculptures.”
“They’ll be with forensics, being tested for evidence.”
He turned to her. “Was that what was used on her?”
“Don’t know. We’re waiting to hear.”
He was silent, looking thoughtful. He said, more to himself than to her, “Yes. They’re heavy enough, aren’t they. I expect anyone could use one as a weapon.”
As if in illustration of Carver’s point, the flat door opened. A slim young Black woman stood there, stylishly dressed in a crisp white blouse, navy trousers tapered to show off shapely ankles, and red stilettos that looked like something capable of taking out an eye. She was also quite pretty. She said brightly, “Concierge let me in. I thought I might be able to help.”
“Help with what?” Ross Carver said to her and then to Barbara, “This is Rosalba, Teo’s sister.”
MAYVILLE ESTATE
DALSTON
NORTH-EAST LONDON
“Tani, what happened? Where are you? Why didn’t you bring Simi here last night?”
“My mum worked it out that I told her. No initiation, just being cut up. She di’n’t want to believe me, so she made a run for it. Straight to Mum, this was.”
“But why didn’t Simi believe you? She has to know you wouldn’t lie to her.”