Bored of the park and tired of traipsing around shops, Alba went home on the bus for entertainment. She no longer noticed people staring at her loveliness and glowered at men who tried to chat her up, but it was more amusing than taking a cab and it took up more time. She enjoyed watching people, listening to their conversations, imagining how they lived. She looked forward to dinner at Viv’s and to Reed of the River dropping by for a drink. It didn’t occur to her that her life was empty. She had friends and she took lovers whenever she needed company at night. She didn’t analyze her existence or try to fill her days with something worthwhile, she just muddled through. Besides, nothing inspired her. Not like Viv, who had a hunger for life, eating away the time with hours at her typewriter producing books that reflected her enthusiasm (some would say cynicism) for people and their foibles. Alba didn’t yearn for marriage and children, although she was twenty-six and “getting on” as Viv was apt to remind her. She didn’t think about the future. She didn’t realize that she avoided it out of fear, because it was empty.
Alba was wrapped in a towel, having had a bath and washed her hair, and was painting flowers on her toenails when Reed of the River’s launch motored up. In his keenness he was early. He smelled heavily of aftershave and had slicked his hair back with a wet comb. He looked handsome and Alba was pleased to see him. She didn’t need to show him where the drinks were and he went straight ahead and poured them both a glass of wine. She noticed his eyes creeping up beneath her towel and shifted her position defensively. She wasn’t in the mood and, besides, she had a dinner date. Having painted the last nail, she sat back on the sofa to let them dry.
“Revel found an arm in the river this afternoon,” said Harry, settling comfortably into a chair, stretching his long legs in front of him, making himself at home.
“How disgusting,” Alba gasped, scrunching up her pretty nose. “What happened to the rest of him?”
“That’s the mystery, isn’t it,” he replied importantly. “It’s our job to find out.”
“Was it an old arm or a new one?”
“Old, I think. Pretty rotten I can tell you. The stench! I don’t want to give you nightmares, though of course there’s a cure for that!” He raised an eyebrow which Alba ignored.
“Perhaps it’s the remains of a tortured Elizabethan courtier. You’ll find the head next,” she said with a laugh.
“Have you been to Tower Bridge? It’s quite a thing to have a piece of history like that bang in the center of the city!” Alba hadn’t been to Tower Bridge and, as for history, well, she didn’t care for it. What was the point of discussing dead people one had never known? The only history she was interested in was her own.
“About the head, it’ll pop up when you least expect it,” she said.
“Or when you least expect it,” he added with a chuckle, running his eyes up her legs again. Alba wondered how Viv would react to an old dismembered head bobbing off the side of her boat and smiled as she contemplated sending it to the Buffalo in a cardboard box.
“If you find it, let me know,” she said with a smirk.
They continued to chat while Alba wandered upstairs to change for dinner. There was no door to close on him, for the bedroom and bathroom were built on a landing where one side was a balustrade overlooking the stairwell and corridor that led into the sitting room. It was getting late and Harry had been there for some time. She chose a pair of Zandra Rhodes hot pants, which she wore with boots and a cashmere sweater patched in calico. When Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, glass in hand and a lascivious glint in his eye, Alba was carefully applying black eyeliner in the mirror.
“Don’t creep up on me like that,” she complained grumpily.
“I want you,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Oh, Harry, please. I’m going out for dinner. Besides, I’ve put my clothes on. You don’t expect me to take them all off again, do you?”
“Oh, go on, Alba,” he encouraged, coming up behind her and kissing her neck where her hair was still wet and tangled.
“All I can think of is that arm in the water, Harry. It’s the least romantic thought I’ve had for some time.”
Harry wished he hadn’t mentioned it. She finished the eyeliner and turned on the hair drier, blowing Harry onto the bed, where he draped himself mournfully.
“Just a quickie, lovely. Keep me going in the cold.” He grinned mischievously and Alba couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t their fault she was so desirable.
She finished drying her hair and walked over to the bed, where she lay with him a while, kissing. It felt nice to be held. Reed of the River was another shelter where she could take refuge. When he ran his hands over her thighs she moved away.