Read True Things About Me A Novel (Deborah Kay Davies) for Free Online Page B

pockets. Shit, I don’t seem to have my wallet, he said, and lit a cigarette. Don’t worry, I said. Little working girl, he said, and patted my cheek.
    There were two women eating at a table with a sun umbrella. He stood up. Next part of plan, he said, and took my hand. We walked away from the women and round the side of the pub. There were nettles and dandelions. He positioned me to face the wall. He told me to lift my skirt up. I felt him pushing himself into me. I stood on tiptoes and arched my back. He slipped his hands up under my top and bra and pulled my nipples downwards. I couldn’t help makinga noise. He laughed softly into my hair. As he did it to me I watched the swans gliding round each other. I thought they might be in love. The pebbledash of the wall grazed my cheek. When he had finished he pulled me round and kissed my mouth. The women out there, I said, I can’t walk near them, they must have heard me. It’ll brighten up their sad lives, he said. And dragged me after him, past them to the car. I felt like a rag doll. In the car mirror I saw my cheek was bleeding. You look like a bloody wreck, he said. Sort yourself out.
    At my front door I looked back. I thought he was coming in. He stood by the gate. Don’t leave me now, I said. I’ll cook you something later. You can relax and watch TV. He stood and tapped the gatepost, he was already turning away. No, he said. I’ve got stuff to do. He was gazing down the street. What sort of stuff? I said. He looked at me without speaking. Then he pointed his finger at me. You need to be very careful about that, he said. Then he walked away. About what? I called after him.

I believe that size matters
    OVER COFFEE ALISON asked me what was going on. She said she had been worried about me. I haven’t seen you for ages, she said. You can’t stay on sick leave indefinitely. This is the second time in less than a month. It’s that Mr Blond, isn’t it? You’re looking decidedly wan. And what have you done to your face? I tripped, I said. And I’ve had a urine infection; it’s taking some time to clear up. I’m not surprised, she said. I nodded back towards the counter. I wish now I’d had one of those smoothies instead of coffee, I said.
    Somehow I couldn’t be bothered to explain it all. We just go out for a drink, nothing happens. If you ask me, she said, you’re not yourself at all. You never used to lie to me. Don’t you trust me any more? Also it’s a very risky thing getting involved with claimants. I’m not involved, I said. And I didn’t ask you. I stared into the froth in my cup. I suppose Alison was counting up to ten again. It took her a while. Perhaps itwas twenty. I looked across at her. I’m sorry, I said. I don’t know what to say. I felt utterly switched off.
    We drank our coffees in silence, and listened to the conversation at the next table. One woman was telling the other about a mutual friend. You know she’s had it all taken away, don’t you? she said. The other, younger one didn’t seem impressed. Well, it wasn’t as if she had much use for it all, did she? she answered with a slight sniff. Alison and I stared at each other, trying not to laugh. Look, she said, getting serious, I know it’s none of my business, but I think you should be careful. Has he tried anything? I pretended not to understand. Has he tried to shag you yet, I mean, she said. He’s a claimant, for God’s sake. He’s just come out of prison. You don’t know anything about him. I told her there was nothing wrong with being a claimant. Also, I said, he’s paid his debt to society.
    Now I know something’s going on between you, she said, and banged her hand down sharply. The two women on the next table turned round pointedly, and stared at us. Got a problem? Alison asked them. Then she leaned towards me and touched my hand. I know I sound like your mother, but honestly, will you listen to yourself? Paid his debt? Are you mad? Look, I said. It’s nothing.