Jenny sat outside The King’s Wark, her face in the sunshine and a double gin on the table. Simple things in life, vitamin D and booze. She wore bug-eyed shades in case he recognised her, watched people streaming past and tried to relax her mind. Fat chance, she had a million things flying around her head fighting for attention.
Let’s see. Her mum was almost killed by a jaguar in the middle of Edinburgh. Two badly embalmed feet had turned up, but they weren’t a pair. Their dog was dead. Vanessa was dead. Oh yeah, Jenny’s murderous ex had most likely abducted Sophia. The alternatives to that scenario were that she was dead in a ditch somewhere, swept out to sea, or taken by someone else who would likely have raped and killed her anyway. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Then there were Indy’s parents dug up and waiting to be burned, Abi’s dad committing suicide and whatever crazy shit Hannah was up to with aliens. And the funerals, constant death on their doorstep, a black seam running through her life despite her attempts to get away. But her home was a death house, and she’d grown to love that.
Yet here she was dealing with none of that, instead getting half cut in the sun and waiting for Liam. She was thinking with her vagina for the first time in a year and she liked it. She wasn’t nearly as horny as in her twenties but she still had urges, wanted to get some before her insides shrivelled up. She thought of her daughter, hoped Hannah and Indy were at it like bunnies, but with all the stress at the moment, probably not. And her mum, over seventy and shagging a black cop, that’ll do nicely.
She downed her drink, flagged a tall redhead barmaid covered in tattoos, and ordered another. Traffic noise from the bridge over the Water of Leith was a constant drone. She spotted two swans and three cygnets bobbing in the water, heading out to sea. Even the swans were getting some.
The drink came and she downed half. That was her fourth. She was fuzzy around the edges, too old to drink properly these days, not like in her heyday. She shuddered at how she used to treat her body, cheap speed, dodgy pills cut with fuck knows what, drowning in booze and weed. She didn’t regret any of it, she’d loved it, but God knows how much damage had built up inside her.
She saw Liam walking along Commercial Street. She knew his routine, had guessed he’d go to the studio after work, so it wasn’t a surprise. Her heart raced as she touched her sunglasses and lowered her head. He was in a grey suit, jacket under his arm, shirtsleeves rolled. His body looked toned, hair a little long on top. She felt a fizz inside her, excitement and anxiety.
He crossed the bridge and headed down Bernard Street, and she downed her drink and followed. It was only a few minutes to his studio in the vennel off Maritime Street. She was wary of her footsteps on the old cobbles, expected him to turn but he didn’t. He went in the studio entrance and she waited. She swayed, feeling the effects of the gin, put a hand out to steady herself. She slapped herself in the face and shook her head, then strode up to his studio door and knocked.
He opened the door and looked surprised, and she felt suddenly embarrassed.
‘Fancy meeting you here,’ he said.
She realised she still had her shades on, scrambled them off her face.
He frowned but there was something in his eyes, goddamn it. She caught a smell of him, familiar and sexy. She straightened her shoulders.
‘Are you stalking me?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘OK.’
‘I’m sorry, Liam, I’ve been a total dickhead. I shouldn’t have left you.’
He angled his head and smiled. ‘Which time?’
‘What?’
‘Do you mean in the hospital when I was bruised and broken, or the other day when you ran away from me?’
He touched his scarred eye where Craig had smacked him with a gun. It would always be a reminder like every other scar on their bodies. She wanted to read his scars.
‘Both,’ she said.
She placed a hand on his chest, waited. He didn’t look down, held her gaze. She leaned in and kissed him, soft to begin with, then harder, felt him respond. She moved her body into his, then pushed him gently inside the room and closed the door, her lips still on his, her tongue in his mouth, his hands now on her bum.
She pushed him until they bumped a table covered in paint supplies and canvases. Jenny was vaguely aware of the room full of paintings, weird hybrids of organic animals and plants growing out of each other, through each other, hazy alien landscapes populated by interconnected horns and tentacles, legs and necks, whole new life forms created in his mind.
She pulled at his belt, pushed his trousers down and his cock sprang out. She pulled down her own jeans and panties, and he lifted her onto the table as she spread her legs. She was wet already then he was inside her, and she ran her hands up his stomach and chest, God she’d missed this, missed him. He was thrusting inside her and she felt ripples through her body already. It didn’t take long for either of them, she came first then him, her legs shaking. Liam arched his back and groaned as she gripped his bum and held tight, her nails digging into his flesh.
She thought it would be awkward afterwards, but it was like they’d never split, like they’d stayed together for the last year.
‘So, stalker,’ he said, pulling up his trousers.
He was smiling and she grinned too. ‘Yeah.’
‘What is this?’
His tone was suddenly serious. She reached up and touched the scar running from his eye to the bottom of his ear. The skin of the eyelid drooped a little, a relic of extreme swelling. It gave his face a lopsided look she liked.
‘I don’t know but I don’t want to lose you again.’
‘That was your choice.’
‘I know.’
He nodded towards the door. ‘You didn’t even ask if I was seeing someone.’
She shrugged.
He was deadpan. ‘So either you don’t care or you really have been stalking me and you know I’m not.’
‘I’m glad you’re not,’ she said eventually.
They were both fully dressed now and Jenny looked round the room at the paintings. It felt like they were in an enchanted forest, a magical place where anything could happen, even getting back a life you thought was lost.
‘So what now?’ Liam said.
She looked at his face and wanted to cry. She’d been so lonely without him and hadn’t fully realised until now.
‘Maybe we could go for a drink?’
He laughed and she loved the sound of it.
Her phone rang in her bag. She remembered last time, the text from Craig. She hesitated, didn’t take it out. If she never answered it the world couldn’t find her.
‘Answer it,’ Liam said.
She stared at him, sorrow washing over her, then took the phone out. It was Thomas.
‘Hey,’ she answered, still staring at Liam.
‘Your camera footage,’ Thomas said down the line. ‘From the Chalmers place. We have something.’