Heatstroke: an intoxicating story of obsession over one hot summer by Hazel Barkworth

Author:Hazel Barkworth [Barkworth, Hazel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2020-05-28T00:00:00+00:00

Rachel lay on her bed. She tried to claw back some of the sleep she’d missed over the last week, but her eyelids wouldn’t seal themselves shut. Whatever she thought of, however deliberately she breathed, she found herself staring at the wall. It had been weeks since she’d last shared a bed with Mark. Since she’d fought sleep rather than longed for it, since she’d abandoned herself to the exhaustion of the next day. She’d almost looked forward to the mid-afternoon slump that would remind her of what she’d been doing instead of resting.

Her skin had been cooler then; the warmth of his hands had been welcome. He’d lain her on her front, and traced the spaces between her moles, finding the fleshly constellations and whispering the names of each one as he drew it with his fingers. A messily sketched W. Cassiopeia. A jagged diamond. Cepheus. A curved swoop that took up the whole of her shoulder blades. Draco.

He’d leaned down and planted a series of kisses on the inked image that lived on the small of her back. That nook almost no one else ever saw, that never met the sun. The stubble from his chin had grazed the pale skin there, the series of jagged black lines. He’d smiled when he’d first seen her tattoo. Those radio pulses, transmissions from a distant spinning star. Joy Division’s Unknown Pleasures. Rachel hated how famous it had become, hated anyone who wore the T-shirt. They were hers, those tortured wave forms that looked like a ragged heartbeat, a mythical mountain range. They’d meant the world to her when she was eighteen, years before tattoos in that spot were given derogatory connotations, years before jeans were worn so low the world could see the curve of a spine.

The thought of that night was both a balm and an irritant. It was tainted. Mark had memorised the names of the constellations and the shapes they formed. He had deliberately learned the dozens of ancient gods and creatures that shifted every day, entirely different from summer to winter. He’d learned them for a purpose. His fingers might have traced scores of backs, sketching the stars onto every one. Rachel’s eyes wouldn’t close.

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