Our Kind of Cruelty

I bent down and lifted the letter box, but all I could see was the black insides of a metal box. I straightened up and leant over the stone balustrades, cupping my hand against the glass. One of the wooden slats of the shutters hadn’t quite met its partner and I could see a sliver of the drawing room beyond, some pale sofas, a streak of a fireplace, nothing more. I ran down the stairs and into the basement area again, but this time there was a blind across the window, its billowy fabric concealing everything. Finally, I went and stood on the opposite side of the road once more, against the ivy wall, looking up at the tall house. But it was still and silent, giving nothing away. I wondered if she had gone to Steeple House for the weekend and I considered for a moment getting on a train and joining her there. But I knew that would be all wrong and that Suzi was the last person I would want witnessing our reconciliation.

I walked instead towards Islington and our old flat, the thought of not seeing V so disappointing that I had to find some way to be close to her. I hadn’t seen the flat for ten months now, hadn’t even been there when V had packed it up and left. It looked no different from the road, dark windows reflecting the sky, and yet I was filled with a strange longing just by looking up at it. I crossed the road and pressed our old buzzer, still nameless. A woman answered and I nearly walked away, but by then it seemed imperative that I stand once more inside the place where V and I had been our happiest. I told her a stupid story about how I’d used to live there and my girlfriend had lost a very precious ring and how I’d suddenly had a brainwave that it might have fallen between the loose floorboards in the kitchen. She sounded dubious but I guess knowing about the floorboards must have done the trick because she buzzed me in.

A man opened the door to the flat. He extended a skinny arm towards me and tried to hide his nervousness behind his beard. But I was as friendly and calm as possible, as we all knew I could have snapped them both in half in a minute. We went to the kitchen and looked under the floorboard and there was nothing there and I said it had been worth a shot and they agreed. I told them I liked what they’d done with it and she said she was an artist, so she loved experimenting with colour, and I had to hide my smile because of how much V would have hated the bright tones. I shook their hands and thanked them as I left and I really meant it, because it was like the flat still retained our energy and I had sucked it all up, storing it deep in my stomach.

I bought a new laptop on the way home as it was stupid not to make use of the gift of Angus’s Facebook page. But he still hadn’t posted anything new, which I found surprising, expecting a barrage of photographs of him in LA. But then again what would be the point of pictures without V in them?

There was one Crave V and I never did. She said she’d always had this fantasy about fucking a really disgusting man. Her idea was to go to some shithole of a bar and pick up an ugly freak whom she would take back to our flat. I obviously would follow close behind and let myself in with our keys. She didn’t actually want to go as far as having sex with him; she wanted me to pull him off her just moments before. It was never a serious suggestion and never something we were actually going to do. We’d talk about it sometimes, lying in bed, but we both knew it wasn’t going to happen. It was just one of those fantasies we liked to bat about between our brains.

I spent most of the next day checking Angus’s feed, which stayed stubbornly silent until 5 p.m., when it informed me he had checked into Virgin Atlantic Upper Class to fly from LAX to London Heathrow. He would be home the next morning, which meant I absolutely had to see V that night. I remembered how she’d casually said that he was going away for a few days and how I’d been too embroiled with everything else to listen to her properly. What if she’d gone away on Sunday because I hadn’t shown up on Friday or Saturday? What if she had been waiting for me and I’d been too stupid to realise?



I went straight from work to Elizabeth Road. The shutters and curtains were open, but there were no lights on. I knocked on the door anyway, but no one answered. Still, she had clearly been home since the day before and was probably on her way home from work.

I went to sit in a pub round the corner and ordered a double whisky and soda. It was only six thirty and I knew she didn’t usually leave work until around six, so I made myself give it an hour before I went back. And I had been right to do that because there were now lights on in the hall and the kitchen. I paused on the kerb, feeling the second double whisky melt into my blood. This was the moment I had been waiting a very long time for and it was important that I get it absolutely right.

I climbed the stone stairs and stood under the porch light, which hadn’t yet been turned on. I took a breath and knocked. It was amazing how much more alive the house felt this time, as if it loved V’s presence as much as I did. I heard footsteps on the stairs and then she opened the door. She looked like she had recently changed as she was dressed in baggy jogging bottoms and a white T-shirt, which strained across her bust. The eagle was round her neck.

Her eyes widened at the sight of me. ‘What are you doing here, Mike?’

‘Can I come in?’ I said, giving her my best smile.

But she stayed standing in the doorway. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Please. I just want to have a chat.’

‘We’ve tried that.’ She started to close the door but I put out my hand and she was no match for my strength. It was easy to push the door slightly more open and step inside. ‘What are you doing?’ she said as we stood facing each other in the hall.

I shut the door behind me. ‘I didn’t say what I really meant the other evening.’

She glanced behind me at the door. ‘I’ve got a friend coming in a minute.’ It was an obvious lie.

‘V, this is ridiculous. I love you; you love me. We know each other like we’re the same person. This has all got to stop now. You need to tell Angus it’s over and come and live with me.’

She didn’t answer at first, but then she said, ‘You need to leave.’

And that’s the thing about V. She makes you work hard. She’s not easy like women like Kaitlyn or Carly because she’s worth it. She’s like that TV ad; she’s what every woman wants to be and what every man wants to possess. I smiled at her.

‘I crave you, V.’

‘Mike,’ she said, but then she stopped and her hand went to her throat, clutching at the eagle. It was all I had been waiting for. The moment we had both always known was coming. The signal only we understood.

I stepped towards her and took her in my arms, pressing her against my chest. She was very still, but we still fitted together in the way we always had done. I knew she would be able to feel my body through my clothes, the way it worked only for her, the way it throbbed between us.

‘My darling girl,’ I whispered into her hair. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

I let her go a bit then, holding her by the shoulders so we were standing opposite each other. We were both crying, overcome with the emotion of the moment. ‘It’s OK,’ I said, ‘I’m here to save you. I’d never abandon you.’

‘Mike, please,’ she said, but her voice was very weak, drowned out by the force of the desire which existed between us.

I leant down and kissed her on the mouth. At first it felt hard against my own and I worried for a mad second that she wasn’t going to let me in. But then I felt something give in her body, some recognition of all we had ever meant to each other, a realisation of desire. I encircled her waist with my arm, pulling her towards me.

I could feel her breath on my face, her body shaking and quivering. I lifted her and laid her down on the rug on the floor, which made her exclaim slightly. I was so hard I thought I was going to burst. V was crying, releasing all the lies and tension of the past few months, and I felt such a surge of love for her I brought my face close to hers so our breath was conjoined. She looked beautiful lying there, her hair splayed out around her head, her eyes wide, her skin pale. The eagle resting quietly on her neck. I pulled at her tracksuit and eased her legs apart with my knees.

‘Oh God, Mike, no,’ she said. But the moan and her words were ones of pleasure. It is hard sometimes to get what you want, to succumb to what you need. I kissed her and felt her lips part to reveal the sumptuousness of her tongue; I traced the outline of her teeth.

Never have – or will – two people exist who fit together more perfectly than we do. We are like superheroes together. If sex could save the world then we would rule the planet.

Araminta Hall's books