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IT WAS DARK WHEN SUSAN arrived at the luxury block of flats in Canary Wharf where Phillip lived. She showed her pass, walked through the lobby into the lift and pressed ‘14’. Her heart sped up as the doors closed. A momentary shift in gravity and she was ascending. She used the tinted mirror in the rear wall to adjust her hair and straighten her skirt.
She was here to break up with Phillip. She had rung ahead to let him know she was coming, but not why. She had drunk a few cocktails in Weatherspoon’s two blocks away to strengthen her resolve. She sharpened her fingernails with Vivienne’s nail-file. Phillip could get nasty if she wasn’t firm with him.
Over the last few days, she had thought persistently about ‘George’. Men had always been interested in her. But not like George. Their interest was about what she liked to drink, whether she was in a relationship, whether she was free, how amazing her breasts were.
By contrast, ‘George’ hadn’t ventured into any of those areas. She replayed their conversation in her mind over and over, trying to work out what it was he wanted, if anything. She still didn’t know. The important thing was that he was nice and he’d been selected by Vivienne. Vivienne wasn’t to be mocked.
It was two days since she’d divulged her plans to Valérie over lunch.
“I’ve decided to split up with Phillip tomorrow,” she said. She sipped her lemonade and removed her shoes under the table.
“Are you mad?” Valérie said.
“I’ve made up my mind.”
“It’s up to you, but if you do split up with him he’s mine, yes? All’s fair in love and war.”
“Fine, okay.”
“What’s the matter with you, anyway? Phillip’s the best you’re ever going to get. He’s a Wallet and a Toy rolled into one. Do you know how rare that is? You may never even see it again, let alone have it all to yourself.”
Valérie divided men into three categories – Toys, Wallets and Doorstops – and encouraged Susan to do the same. Toys were physically attractive and so useful for sex but usually broke; Wallets were wealthy and prodigal but usually old and ugly; Doorstops were poor and unattractive and useful only for opening doors and making tea. As both a Toy and a Wallet, Phillip was homo superior. Valérie was proud her daughter had secured him but made no secret of the fact that she wished she’d got there first.
“I will take Phillip off you, if you ditch him,” she said. “There’ll be no going back. The only thing that’s stopped me so far is you’re my daughter and I love you.”
“You can have him.”
As Susan put this memory away, the lift slowed to a halt. A little bell rang and the doors swished open. She stepped out onto the carpet and pressed the buzzer to Phillip’s apartment.
Phillip wouldn’t answer the door himself. He never did. He liked her to think he was with her as an act of charity. She heard the words, ‘Come in’, and did as she was told.
Phillip’s apartment was a living room with two adjoining bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen. The farthest wall was a floor to ceiling window that overlooked the city. Two leather sofas and a chaise longue faced a television with a bronze statuette of Venus on top. Three low tables were dotted with pot plants. The lighting was subdued. This was Phillip’s city house where he lived during the week. His wife and baby daughter lived in Cornwall. He travelled back to see them on Friday evenings.
Phillip was in his mid-thirties. He had short black hair, grey eyes and ears that were flat enough to look like they were glued to his head. He was so well-built he’d once almost become a fitness instructor, or so he said. That was before he discovered a talent for Stocks and Shares. He wore his work clothes: an open-necked shirt with red braces, pinstriped trousers and hand-made brogues.
“Hello, Phillip,” Susan said.
“You look gorgeous.” He came over and kissed her on the neck. “Get undressed and go into the bedroom. I won’t be a minute. I’ve bought you some clothes I’d like you to try on.”
“I’m not here for that.”
He put his head on one side. “What are you here for then?”
“To end it.”
“To end it?”
“That’s right.”
He laughed. “To end it? I presume you’re talking about our relationship? Really?”
“Really.”
“Really? Our relationship?”
“Stop making fun of me,” she said. “Really.”
He leaned one shoulder against the wall and folded his arms. “I’m not making fun of you. Honestly I’m not. But Susan, you’re the kind of woman – girl, little girl - who ‘ends it’ with a text, if you’re intending to do so at all. Come on, admit it. You didn’t come up here to ‘end it’, did you? I’ve upset you in some way. You know I think you’re delicious. What can I do to make it up to you?”
“You haven’t done anything. I came up here because I’m trying to change. I’m trying to be better.”
“What? ‘Better’? In what way?”
“In - ”
“You’re perfect already. As Friedrich Nietzsche – a great German philosopher – once said, you can’t improve on perfection. Now come on, let’s stop being silly shall we? Get your clothes off, I’m hungry.”
“I’m not being silly. I’ve said what I came to say. So goodbye.”
“Wait, wait. I’ve got something to show you.”
“Goodbye, Phillip.”
“Look.”
Suddenly, Valérie stepped out of the bathroom dressed only in a towel and drying her hair. She smiled at Susan in a way that had obviously been rehearsed. Phillip looked at her, then at Susan, then back at Valérie. He smiled. “Surprise,” he said.
“Oh hello, mother,” Susan said.
“I told you not to call me that in public,” Valérie said.
Phillip took a sharp breath. “I - I thought you’d be angry.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“You little bitch,” he said. He drew himself to his full height and grabbed her wrist. “Get back in the bathroom, Valérie. I don’t want you to see this. Okay, I’ll give you something to be angry about, Susie girl. Nobody breaks up with me.” He shook her. “I’ll show you what the ‘end’ is, you cheap little slut, and assuming you’re still breathing when I’m finished, I’m going to kick you into the gutter. Then it’s ‘ended’. Then and only then. My terms, not yours. You ought to know that by now. Come here.”
Valérie clasped her hands under her chin. She leaned against the wall and chuckled.
Phillip stepped behind Susan and locked his arm round her. He put his free hand inside her blouse and started to tear it. Two buttons sprang away and the collar ripped.
“Phillip, stop it. Please.”
He turned her around and slapped her . He tore her blouse apart with both hands and threw her to the floor. Then he picked her back up, dug his thumbs into her arms and kissed her.
She had had enough now. She wrenched free of his grasp and grabbed his testicles with such ferocity that her fingernails went through his trousers and deep into his scrotum. He shrieked, his eyes bulging, and bent forward in an effort to get away. She sank her teeth into his nose, bit off its tip and spat it on the floor.
When she let him go there was a stream of blood dribbling from between his legs and from his face. Valérie turned pale. She ran into the bathroom and locked the door.
Phillip was in no condition for a second assault. Wounded and on the floor, he attempted to reverse out of reach using his arms only. His eyes were overflowing. He howled.
Susan picked up the statuette of Venus and hurled it at him. He ducked. It hit the floor to ceiling window. The whole pane exploded, showering everything in the room with glass and admitting the weather. Phillip screamed again. Everything began to blow about, including himself. From inside the bathroom, Susan could hear her mother hollering at the top of her lungs.
For a moment, she stood as still as she could and surveyed the havoc. Then she heaved a sigh of relief. Vivienne would be proud of her.
She did an about turn, slammed the door behind her and left the building.
