The Big Kiss by David Huggins

Author:David Huggins [David Huggins]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-61608-609-7
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2011-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

12

Silver Worms

KATE TURNED OFF THE CROMWELL ROAD into a residential area. I kept an eye out for Claire's house but it was getting dark and I was unfamiliar with this part of Kensington. Kate zig-zagged through some side-streets and parked in an avenue lined with plane trees. Patches of bark had flaked off their eczematic trunks.

Kate lived on the second floor ofa six-storey house that had been converted into flats. I followed her into her large high-ceilinged sitting-room. The stripped-pine floorboards were dotted with kelims, and bright third-world fabrics covered the chairs and sofas that surrounded a Kashmiri coffee-table. Given Kate's conservative wardrobe, these fashionable ethnic furnishings came as a surprise. I had expected to find the standard-issue coconut matting, photos framed in silver and the odd bowl of pot-pourri dotted about on small, useless occasional tables.

Kate went to get changed and I looked around the room for clues to her past. A photographic montage of white middle-class teenagers hung on the far wall. I picked Kate out among the young faces clustered at a series of beach barbecues and ski-chalet fondues. Her smile had been much less knowing back then. One of the photographs had been taken a few years later than the others. It showed Kate squinting into the sunset on a beach wearing only a sarong and a bead necklace.

‘God, don’t look at that! I keep meaning to take it down,’ said Kate. She was standing right behind me, barefoot in a pair of corduroys.

‘This is a nice place,’ I said as she went over to the open-plan kitchen area.

‘Thanks. Would you like some wine, Steve? Or there’s a beer I think.’

‘A beer would be fine. I’m allowed my three units, aren’t I?’ I was meant to count my drinks on the lithium.

She popped the top off a cold bottle from the back of the fridge and our fingers touched as she handed me the imported German lager. It was a Beck’s, just like the one I’d used on Alan in Drummond Street. The label promoted an upcoming art exhibition at the Tate Gallery. In this case all the sugar had turned into advertising.

‘Do you live here on your own?’ I asked her.

‘Crispin lives here. He rents a room. He’ll be back from work soon.’

Kate started cooking and I went along the corridor to relieve myself in an overlit bathroom. Patsy Cline struck up in the sitting-room so I had a peek around the flat, safe in the knowledge that any squeaking floorboards would be covered by the music. There were three bedrooms. One of them was unused with cardboard boxes piled high against a cupboard. The next had to be Crispin's with an old Sonic Youth poster on the wall and a large collection of CDs and video games.

Kate's bedroom was larger with a frilly bedspread and women’s clothing strewn across the carpet. The bed was unmade and a pile of books lay on the table beside it. A biscuit-coloured vibrator was wedged between the books and a box of Kleenex.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.