4
When Lisa woke up, David’s side of the bed was cold. The luminous digits of the clock told her it was four forty-seven. She listened: she could hear the bathroom extractor fan. She turned on the bedside lamp and called, ‘David?’
He walked in. He was already dressed in black jeans, a grey suit jacket and a faded Motörhead t-shirt. His hair was damp and he had shaved, but he looked rough: his face was puffy and his eyes red and bleary. His toothbrush was sticking out of his mouth. He took it out. ‘Hiya.’ His voice sounded like he had a head cold. He looked down, embarrassed. ‘Sorry about last night.’ He came over and sat down on the bed. ‘I must have been ... pretty ugly.’
‘Yes, and you don’t look so good this morning either.’
He smiled. ‘Did I do anything, sort of ... stupid?’
‘You mean besides drink a bottle of whisky on your own?’
‘Yeah, well, besides that – like chucking a TV out of the window or anything like that? I know the TV’s okay, but I’m worried in case I damaged anything else.’
‘Like us?’ She smiled. ‘No. But you’re going to have to apologise to your neighbours. You upset a lot of them. Apparently you are a big asshole.’
‘Oh. What was it? Music?’
‘Yes. And you told the guys in the flat downstairs that you were going to murder them.’
He put a hand over his face and sighed. ‘Oh shit. Still, at least I didn’t actually murder them.’
‘Yes, thankfully, but don’t worry. I apologised for you.’
‘Thanks. I should really go down and say something myself, but ...’
‘You aren’t going to be here.’
‘No.’ He scratched his head. ‘Not for a while anyway.’
She took his hand. ‘When do you think you will be coming back?’
‘I don’t know, it’s impossible to say. Listen, can I ask: how much did I tell you about what’s going on?’
‘Last night?’
He nodded.
‘Well, you told me your brother was dying, that your family was evil and that you were bred – like a cow. You said your name was Flinch and that you had a terrible job to do that you couldn’t escape from. I tried to get you to tell me more, but you said that for me to know more would be dangerous.’
‘Hmm, Not exactly a date with David Niven then? Sorry if I freaked you out.’
‘Never mind that; is it true?’
‘What part?’
‘All of it?’
He sighed. ‘Well, my brother is dying, yes, and my name – my father’s name – is Flinch. As for the family being evil and the terrible job; it sounds as if I was being a bit hysterical. There is a job to do, it’s a family thing. But it isn’t anything for you to worry about; you’re not in any danger.’
‘But what about you? Will you be in any danger?’
He rubbed his temples and she thought for a moment that she saw his hand tremble slightly. ‘Damn it. Why did I have to drink? That’s two years of sobriety down the drain.’
‘I know. I still can’t believe it. Why didn’t you call your friend, Steve?’
He smiled weakly. ‘Because I wanted to get fucking blotto. I wanted to just let go of the steering wheel; put my foot down hard and shut out the ... ’
‘The what?’
He thumbed the bristles of his toothbrush. ‘I don’t know. The news about John I guess.’
She stroked his back. ‘It’s okay.’
He met her eyes for a second before looking away to his suitcase. ‘You remember that word you were saying I call out in my sleep sometimes, “Underwood”?’
‘Yes?’
He got up and dropped his toothbrush into the suitcase. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t tell you when you mentioned it yesterday, but I suppose I was just ... embarrassed about it.’
‘About what?’
He turned back to her. ‘It’s a business. My family’s business in Spain.’
‘This is the job you have to do?’
‘Yeah.’
‘The terrible job? The one that you couldn’t speak about last night?’
‘Yeah, but I was just drunk, talking shit, you know? It’s not a big deal. John was running the business, and since he’s going to die, now it falls to me to become the head of the family firm.’
‘Is that so terrible?’
David knew she deserved some kind of a logical explanation for all this. In the shower earlier he had been thinking about how to broach the subject and he’d remembered the old family cover story. It was, of course, perfect. He cleared his throat and said, ‘It’s an undertakers.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Underwood the undertaker?’
He smiled. ‘It’s Underwood and Flinch, actually. At least that’s what we call it.’
‘Oh.’ She lay back, supporting herself on her elbow. ‘I can’t imagine you dealing with dead people.’
‘Neither can I,’ he sat down again. ‘And I don’t intend to either. See, I’ve been thinking. My sister, Lydia – she’s been out in Spain for ages, fluent Spanish speaker, and completely devoted to the family in ways I could never be – well, she’d be perfect for the job.’
‘And so she can do it instead of you?’
‘Yeah. Well, hopefully.’ His expression was doubtful.
‘But there is a problem?’
‘Yeah. The problem is, she’s a woman.’
‘What? Why is that a problem?’
‘Well, Underwood and Flinch is a father-to-son type business, you know? Eldest boy gets to run the company? It’s old-fashioned I know, but that’s the way it’s always been.’
‘But that’s sexist. Surely it won’t be a problem in this day and age?’
He scratched his head. ‘Yeah, well I hope not. What I want to do is go out there; be there – you know, for John – until after he’s gone, and then just sign everything over to Lydia and get myself out of it.’
‘So you want no role in the business at all?’
David was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, ‘Their business is death, Lisa. I want no part of it.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘Yes, I think you are more suited to teaching than the disposal of bodies.’
‘My feelings exactly. More than you could know.’
‘But tell me, what are you going to do about this flat while you are away? And your job?’
‘Well, I’m sure I can get some kind of compassionate leave from my job. As for the flat, my rent will keep going out by standing order, and, well, if you like, you can stay here – till you go back to Germany, or as long as you like. You have a key, after all.’
‘What? I? Live here?’
‘Sure.’
‘And when you get back?’
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. ‘Stay. If you still want to, that is.’
She smiled. ‘You don’t have to say that.’
‘I know, but mean it. I was an arsehole yesterday – not just when I was pissed, but before as well. That solicitor’s letter made me think about a lot of things: not just John and me and the family, but about mortality, you know? We only have so much time on Earth, and we need to hang on to the things – the people – that matter to us. And you matter to me.’
She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you. You matter to me too. Though I don’t know if I will stay or not. You weren’t a complete arsehole yesterday; you were right in some things: I do have commitments in Germany, but soon, maybe, I can come back.’
He took her in his arms. She was warm and sleepy and he held her close, his senses awakening to the delicate fragrance of her hair and skin. Then he realised how he must smell to her and he moved away, embarrassed. ‘Sorry, Lese. I must reek of alcohol.’
She smiled. ‘That’s okay, just as long as you don’t make a habit of it.’
He raised his hand as if swearing an oath. ‘No way. I’m back on the wagon, and this time I’m staying on it.’
‘Good. I’m happy to hear that. But, there is just one thing with your plan, David: if you are going to be the Flinch half of the company, what about the other man, Mr Underwood?’
David’s smile faded. ‘Underwood? Well, I don’t know. I’m sure he’ll be reasonable enough; a traditionalist probably and set in his ways, but I don’t doubt he’ll see the practical advantages of having Lydia in the driving seat. Mind you, I haven’t seen Lydia in years, but she always struck me as being very committed, both to the family and to Mr Underwood.’
‘But what if Lydia doesn’t want the job?’
‘Oh, she’ll want it,’ he said, his face unsmiling. ‘She’ll be thrilled.’
‘Well then, it sounds hopeful.’
‘Yeah.’
In the hallway, the front door buzzer sounded.
‘That’ll be my taxi.’ He got up, zipped up his bag and turned back to her with a mildly anxious expression on his face.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘everything will be fine.’
He nodded.
‘And I’ll be back in a few months.’
He nodded again.
‘You look worried.’
‘I am.’
She smiled. ‘I know. It’s not going to be an easy time.’
‘I know.’
The door buzzer sounded again.
He bent to kiss her ‘I have to go.’
‘Take care, David.’
‘Yeah. You too.’ He picked up his bag, and without turning back, he left for Spain.
Lydia Flinch screamed. Her back arched up away from the bed, and for a moment she was rigid, breathless, trembling on the edge of some inner abyss. Then she gasped, collapsed back against her pillows, and sighed contentedly.
Beltran Morales’ face rose smiling from her lap. ‘That was good, no?’
Lydia looked down at him. ‘It was alright.’
Beltran frowned. ‘Alright? It sounded better than alright to me – you came like a porn star!’
‘Well of course I did: one does. Would you prefer it if I just lay here like an anaesthetised patient? Actually don’t answer that Doctor Morales, I don’t think I care to know.’
Beltran climbed up her body so he lay face to face with her. He raised his hips and reached between his thighs to grasp his erection. ‘No. I like it when you come like the porn star.’
‘I know, Belly,’ she pushed him off and sat up. ‘And I’d love to help you do the same, but unfortunately I have to go. My brother’s arriving this morning, remember?’
Beltran looked crestfallen. He shook his erection, ‘But you can’t go now. Look at me!’
She looked. ‘Yes, poor thing. But don’t worry, it’ll go down eventually.’
‘Jesus, Lydia! Come on. You know you want me.’
‘Actually, I want a quick dip in the pool and a cup of coffee.’ She got up and went to the bedroom door. ‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’ said Beltran, reclining in a pose that was intended to be alluring.
‘Do you want coffee?’
He gripped his penis. ‘I want you, you little puta.’
‘Yes, well,’ she glanced at his lap, ‘I’ll just leave you two alone.’ She left the bedroom, smiling at the string of Spanish obscenities that followed her down the hall.
Three minutes later, Beltran strolled out of the bedroom wearing a towelling bathrobe and a hangdog expression. The white marble floor tiles were cool underfoot as he walked down the corridor towards the lounge. The sun streamed in through the open balcony windows, through which he saw Lydia sitting on a sun lounger beside the pool. He went out to join her. Apart from her sunglasses, she was naked. She had no immediate neighbours, her villa being situated as it was in the wooded hills on the outskirts of Malaga, overlooking the Mediterranean. She was brushing the tangles from her wet hair when Beltran walked up to her, his face still sulky. She looked up at him. ‘Hello Belly. How was the wank?’
He ignored the question. ‘Did you make me a coffee?’
‘Not yet. I’ve just got out of the pool. Be a love and put it on, will you?’
Beltran shook his head, disgusted, and sat down. ‘No fuck, no coffee, what’s not next?’
‘Oh, Belly, stop acting like a baby. You know my brother’s arriving today. We can have sex any time.’
‘Yes. But my trouser friend, he does not understand that. He only thinks about now; he lives for the moment.’
‘Well, you tell your trouser friend I’ll make it up to him later, okay?’
‘When?’
‘Well, hopefully tonight if everything goes according to plan.’
Beltran grinned. ‘Don’t worry, baby. Everything is going to go according to plan.’
‘Well I do worry, Belly,’ Lydia pouted. ‘You know how much it means to me. I hate having to leave such an important ingredient of our big ceremony to chance. It’s not like we can just put an ad in the paper for a human sacrifice, is it?’
Beltran took her foot and kissed her toes. ‘Don’t worry. I have the perfect candidate.’
‘But what if you can’t get him?’
‘I can get him, don’t worry. Okay?’
She smiled. ‘Okay.’
‘So, tell me about your brother.’
Lydia picked up her cigarette from the ashtray and took a drag. ‘I’ve told you everything I know, darling.’
‘Those were just the fundamentals you got from some private investigator; what do you know of him personally?’
‘Not a lot, I haven’t seen him since we were teenagers. He’s spent most of his life trying to avoid us.’
‘Why?’
She laughed. ‘Why? Because he’s scared of us, that’s why.’
‘But surely he is one of you, no? A Flinch.’
‘In name only. I blame his mother.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she was a fucking hippy; a part-time Satanist who stumbled into the family along with her boyfriend. She probably thought it was going to be all one big hedonistic love-in with free booze, marijuana and endless Hawkwind records.’
Beltran smiled. ‘She sounds like a fun girl.’
‘That’s beside the point. There’s a selection criteria for Flinch mothers, Belly: breeding, money, status, and above all a deep commitment to Underwood and the Sect. David’s mother had none of these things.’
‘Maybe she had the nice booty, no?’
Lydia gave him a contemptuous look. ‘My father was above such things as women’s arses, Beltran.’
He grinned. ‘That is the best place to be!’
She dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand and sat back. ‘Anyway, the upshot of this ill-advised bonk was David; a nice boy – but that’s not a compliment. Flinch boys shouldn’t be nice. And if they are, the problem should be caught at an early age and nipped in the bud.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means they should be drowned at birth, darling. Like an unwanted kitten, David should have been put in a sack and chucked into the nearest canal.’
‘So, I er, I take it you don’t get on with your brother?’
Lydia shrugged and looked out to sea.
‘Lydia?’
She stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Like I said, I hardly know him.’
‘Since you were teenagers you say, huh?’
‘Yes. We used to spend summers with Dad at the house in Cadiz. Then one year ...’ She resumed brushing her long dark hair. ‘Well, he just left. We never saw him again.’
Beltran sensed she was keeping something back. ‘Did he hurt you?’
‘What?’ She sounded genuinely surprised.
‘You look like he hurt you, like maybe you had a big fight or something?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She got up suddenly and put on her towelling robe. ‘Time’s getting on, I have to get dressed.’
‘Lydia,’ he reached out to her. ‘You can tell me.’
She looked at him. ‘Okay, yes, we argued. We had a fight. But we were young, stupid; I can’t remember how old I was – seventeen, eighteen?’
‘That’s a long time to have bad feelings in your heart for someone.’
‘Yes,’ she tied the robe at the waist. ‘I know.’
‘But you are both different now, no? You are adults.’
‘Yes.’
‘And now he is coming home to fulfil his duty to his family.’
A cruel smile played at the corners of Lydia’s mouth. ‘Yes, the un-drowned kitten returns, emerging from its sack as a fully grown – and no doubt soggy – cat.’
‘You think he is going to be a problem?’
‘No. His weakness is our strength: he lacks the necessary bollocks to be a Flinch.’
‘Good,’ He took hold of her belt and drew her gently to him. ‘I think it will be fine. You will become good friends. And assuming you are right and he lacks the – what did you say?’
‘The bollocks.’
‘Yes,’ he smiled. ‘The bollocks. I must remember that word. If your brother is lacking the necessary bollocks for the job, then everything is just so much easier; he will go home to England like the good boy and leave everything here to us – to the true servants of the Lord Underwood.’ He slid his hands up her thighs and under her gown.
‘Mmm,’ Lydia closed her eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘But if he turns out to be a problem, and you still hate him ...’ He pulled her gown open and kissed her tummy.
Lydia giggled. ‘Then killing him will be a pleasure.’