The Men in her Life

leaving a trail of white spume as they retreated again.
    ‘Shall we walk along the top?’ Joss asked.
    ‘Isn’t it dangerous?’
    ‘Yes,’ he said, his eyes meeting hers, daring her.
    ‘OK,’ she said.
    They climbed up the steps and stood watching the churning sea. Then Joss began to run, dodging the waves as they broke, with Holly, unable to resist a challenge, following. They reached the end, soaked by salty spray, breathing loudly and fast, clinging to a metal post embedded in the stone. Suddenly Holly screamed as loudly as she could, throwing her face back, the noise swallowed by the elemental surge of the sea. Then he grabbed her with both hands, as if to shake her silent. She was laughing with the exhilaration of the danger. His eyes glowed with pure anger, as if he wanted to control her but could not. Then his mouth fell on her face, his hands in her hair, snapping her head back, and, as the waves soaked them, Holly thought, I am going to die. I am going to die. This is love.
    Then, as brutally as he had started kissing her, he stopped.
    ‘We’d better get out of here,’ he said, and dashed, grabbing her hand, pulling her back along the now treacherously slippery harbour wall. It wasn’t more than fifty yards but it felt like a very long way to safety.
    As they stood catching their breath, the sounds of normality returning to their ears, a pub jukebox, the calls of drunken fishermen bidding each other good night, a car starting and the crash of the waves suddenly distant and soothing, the only proof of what had happened was their wet clothes.
    ‘Do you realize how close we were to being swept out?’ Joss asked her.
    ‘Yes,’ she said, staring at him.
    ‘You would risk your life to kiss me?’ he whispered.
    ‘I was lost from the moment I saw you,’ she said, unused to the total seriousness of true love.
    He looked at her quizzically.
    ‘Meryl Streep in French Lieutenant’s Woman,' she reminded him.

    He put his arm round her shoulders as they walked back up the hill and she let her body relax against his. Finally, she thought, I have found a man tall enough to rest my head on his shoulder without bending my knees.
    As they came back into the house, they broke apart suddenly as if caught out by the light inside. The television was still on.
    ‘Oh Christ, if I see that water chute one more time, I’m going to ring the BBC to complain,’ Holly said, babbling to fill the embarrassed silence. What on earth were they going to do now? ‘I’ve got friends who work there,’ she told him as they both sat down on the sofa, ‘and from time to time they have to go in at weekends in order to practise the routine for when the Queen Mother dies. Well, the old colostomy bag has been pipped to the post. If she died right now, no-one would give a fuck.’
    Joss laughed.
    It was the first time he had laughed at one of her jokes, she realized, and it felt good.
    ‘Perhaps she has died and they’re keeping her under wraps, embalmed until a more suitable occasion arises?’ Joss said. Holly laughed back. How horrible they both were, she thought, how wonderfully, compatibly horrible.
    ‘Let’s pull out the bed,’ Joss said, sliding his arm along the back of the sofa.
    ‘But...’ Holly’s eyes travelled to the ceiling.
    ‘She’s asleep. I’ll check if you like...’
    ‘Yes... no... I mean...’
    He left the room.
    Holly sat stiffly, wondering what the hell she was doing. She couldn’t seriously be about to fuck her sister’s husband while her sister lay asleep upstairs, could she? But she was leaving the next day and she didn’t know when she would see him again. She wanted him so badly. Clare did not want him at all.
    Holly sat staring at the television, wondering whether to make up the bed, and decided not to. It would look too eager. Then, when he did not return, she reran the conversation they had just had, thinking that perhaps she had misunderstood him. Had he said that he was going to bed, before suggesting that they make up hers? Perhaps he was just being a considerate host. Was she feeling guilty about something that was not even going to happen?

    Clare listened with dread to the characteristic sloosh and spit of Joss cleaning his teeth. The mattress dipped as he sat down on the bed to take off his shoes. Clare sensed him bending over to untie the laces, then he leaned right back to look at her. She could feel his breath on her shoulder and smell that he had been drinking beer. He