Three Cigarettes in an Ashtray

During an interval in the Martineau trial in the large building of the Law Courts, several members met in Hector Velazquezs private room, where the conversation turned on the celebrated Atherton case. Welch warmly maintained that it was not subject to their jurisdiction, Velazquez maintained the contrary, while Alexandra Howells, not having entered into the discussion at the start, took no part in it but looked through the paper which had just been handed in.

Ultimately, the discussion ended in neither favour as Velazquez seemed less than his cheerful self.

”Problem, Hector? ” Welch enquired, seated at the corner of Velazquezs desk as the man himself stood turned to the window.

”A man can choose his friends and colleagues, ” the older man sighed. ”But he cannot choose his relatives. ”

Welch swung his leg. ”Luckily we get to choose our bedfellows. ”

Velazquez didn grace that with a response. ”Its Charlie. They called on me this morning. I just don know what to do about him. ” Velazquezs younger brother wasn a bad man, but he was a weak man, and he was well on his way to become a true nuisance to his family.

Welch hummed. Velazquez was looking out the window at the passing cars and hansoms rattling with bells and trimmings over the cobbles. He wrung his hands. ”I just… cannot justify it any longer. He goes off at the slightest provocation. He was brought home by the gendarmerie only last weekend. ”

”Does Mr Morgan know? ”

Velazquez seemed startled, and looked up at Welch. ”You think thats why I was passed up? ”

Welch shrugged. ”Could be, ” he looked at Howells, ”did you hear him talk of it? ”

Howells made a noncommittal noise. Velazquez just shook his head, agitation clear in his manner and bearing: ”I thought it would not— but if it was— I don know, anymore. ” He let out a defeated sigh.

Howells hummed and folded the paper and dropped it on the armrest. She uncrossed her legs. ”It wasn Charlie. At least I don think it was. Morgan isn threatened by weakness. But he doesn like the way you handle things. Hes described you as too clever for your own good. ” Velazquez sneered at that. Howells ignored him: ”want my advice? Don be too intellectual, don push your success in his face. Don be too liberal on social matters or too prominent on financial matters. Don talk to the media as much and certainly don look too successful while doing it. ”

”Damned old man. ”

”Hes getting remarried. ” Welch spoke up. Howells threw him a look.

”We shall have to attend, ” Velazquez sighed. ”But its so terribly far away. ”

”Far away from you, you mean. ” Welch mocked. ”Everythings far away from your place. ”

”You see, he never can forgive my living on the other side of the river, ” said Velazquez, smiling at Welch. Then, still talking of the distances between different parts of the city, they returned to the Court.

The evidence against Lucas Martineau, and other ringleaders, was taken before them; that against three others, for conspiracy, failed. And then Howells, at five past eight, left the court, and went out into the streets.

She knew Hayes must have slept for the better part of the day, and Howells almost felt guilty because the peace would not last; it never did. And, finally, against all the odds, Howells had realised that she did not want it to.

That may not seem like an important thing, it may only seem like a small observational thought, but the first thing Howells learned upon moving into here (other than to dress quickly and how to climb out of windows) was that the little details were sometimes the most important. And this one? This one could be everything.

Howells bid her time on this one, kept it to herself until she thought that Hayes was in a mind to receive it. She had no choice, as the next two weeks brought nothing but work. Howells almost lived in the courthouse for the Martineau case, which pretended to be far more difficult than it was, and when Howells pointed this out in a loud tone of voice, she could almost hear Welchs teeth grinding. Velasquez just sighed and made them tea.

None of them slept very much. Camille — or the current Thursday evening, as Hayes would call her — let Howells known after the first week that she felt neglected. After another three days with no response from Howells (she did not mean to, but she just didn see the letter when she passed by the apartment for a quick shower before she returned) she send another letter expressing her dismay, proposing that Howells should meet with her at the Cypress Club should she wish to apologise. This letter did make it to Howells, but Welch was quick to nick it from her hands from where he was lounging halfway on her desk. Howells was on the floor surrounded by a sea of paper. Her desk simply didn have the space to carry all case files and notes.

”Still climbing out windows, then? I recently found that the front door has more dignity. ”

Howells tipped her head back in surprise. Welch was grinning at the letter and back out the window. ”Really? Who is she? ”

”Why do you assume theres someone? Maybe I was being factitious. ” He avoided her gaze.

”Is she a charity case? ”

”You can be a real jerk sometimes, you know that? ”

”Yeah, and you
e the good guy. ”

”At least, I try. ”

Howells sighed. ”As long as you
e trying, you can get away with whatever you want. ”

”And as long as you
e not, you can say whatever you want. ”

”So between us, we can do anything. We can take over Dubois&Morgan. We can order illegally imported shark. We can rule France and reinstate the monarchy. ”

Welch scrunched his nose, threw the letter under a pile of folders, and rolled over to continue reading. ”Im too fond of my neck. ”

When the busy period abided and the ruling in their favour brought them to an afternoon of celebration, Howells returned home that evening to a Hayes that gave every sign of being busy and happy and not at all tangled up in her own head. Relieved, Howells simply relayed the excitements of the past weeks and exchanged events with Hayes. It was peaceful. It was home. And Howells liked her like this, liked it when it was easy and she did not have to hold their world together. And yet. And yet.

That evening was a wet evening, raindrops thudding against the windows, and they had drawn the curtains and closed themselves inside. It was Mdm Williamss night off; she had left with a number of anxious backwards glances, as though suspicious that the current state of peace could not last and Hayes would blow the house up in her absence unless Howells was extremely vigilant. They had made their poor landlady rather paranoid over the last couple of years, Howells reflected; but not entirely without good reason. She took the mess and noise and unsociable and unsuitable habits in stride, and Howells knew many people who would not have done that. Mrs Williams, too, had become quietly fond of Hayes eccentricities; it seemed to be an inevitability.

The dying fire was the only light in the room and Hayes was sprawled comfortably in an armchair reading the newspaper by its soft glow. Her skin looked almost golden and Howells had to keep forcing herself away from the play of light on Hayess legs to pay attention to the book currently lying in her own lap. Molières plays. She had read the same scene six times in the last ten minutes, and not one word had permeated her brain. It seemed that the matter was hopeless.

Finally, she decided she may as well say something; she would have no peace of mind until she did.

”I don want you not to be with me, ” she said quietly, and Hayess head snapped up. ”Thats it, isn it? ”

Hayess smile was fond and a little amused. ”You
e lucky I am quick enough to unravel that thought. ”

”Catherine. ” The name broke a little in her mouth. Howells did not know what she was saying; what she was trying to say. Still, she could not be playful right now, could not bat words back and forth until meaning tipped out almost incidentally and certainly unintentionally. Hayes must see this on her face, because her expression softened a little. It was entirely impossible to know what she was thinking, but this was nothing new and something Howells had become accustomed to.

”I suppose, ” Hayes said quietly, and her expression was the carefully sombre one she used for things that actually mattered; her work, Thomas Steward. Maybe Howells, sometimes, when she was lucky. ”Yes, thats it. ”

The book slipped off Howellss lap to lie among the other papers on the floor. ”Then thats what I want from you, isn it? ”

Hayes hesitated, just a fraction of a second.

”What was? ” she asked, but Howells knew that she was not asking the question because she did not know the answer; she wants to know if Howells knew the answer. Always so careful.

Howellss nerves nearly failed her, but they had come this far and until she came clean and said it aloud, their lives would never quite return to normal. There would always be this, left unsaid and simmering beneath the surface.

”I want you, ” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, ”I want you and every last inch of your failings, your flaws and your ridiculous bad habits. ”

Hayes said nothing, and after a moment Howells realised that she had managed to surprise her. This was always an achievement; it was nigh-on impossible to surprise Catherine Hayes. But right now, Hayes was staring at her, dark eyes wide, and did not seem to have any words at all. Howells did not know how long the breathless moment of silence lasted; her chest felt so tight that she could not breathe and when her fingers curled into her palm, she realised she was trembling. Eventually, she forced herself to move.

”I need some air, ” she said, pushing herself to her feet, the barest hint of an excuse. ”Its claggy in here. ”

She was scarcely two steps from the door when Hayess hand landed on her shoulder and she spun her around. Howells opened her mouth to speak without any idea what to actually say, and then there was no need to say anything because Hayess hand slid up from her shoulder to curl over the back of her neck, and she pulled her down, finally, oh God, finally, into a kiss.

For a few seconds it was surreal; completely surreal to be here, Hayes mouth sealed to hers, her fingertips hard against the nape of her neck. And then Howells forgot all about the strangeness of finally getting what she had craved for far longer than she could ever admit and focused instead on the warm heat of Hayes mouth, the quiet strength of the body pressed against her; cataloguing details, she realised in shock. Cataloguing and listing details as though this were the last time, as though she was actually going to record this to anyone else and did not want to forget a single thing.

Howells clenched a hand in Hayess hair, learning the texture of Hayess teeth with her tongue. Hayes half-pushed her, Howells stumbled back, and the backs of her thighs hit a table, sending something hard to crash to the floor. Howells heard it land distantly, as though it was a long way away, pulling Hayes closer and not even hesitating for a second to look at the damage. Right now, she did not care if they had broken a priceless, irreplaceable artefact or even Mrs Williamss favourite tea set, as long as Hayes was stood between her open thighs, teeth catching Howellss lower lip.

They parted for breath, foreheads pressed together, and Howells kept her eyes closed because it was almost too much. She had lived so long with this claustrophobic longing that for it to be actualised was almost more than she could stand, though of course she could and would stand it. Oh, God, would she stand it.

Hayes pressed a soft kiss to Howellss lips, pulling away before Howells could deepen it, adding another kiss to the corner of her mouth and then trailing a line of them up Howellss jaw. Howells heard a soft moan escape her and Hayess hand slid up into her hair, thumb stroking the nape of her neck in a way that made her shiver. Hayes repeated the motion, adding another kiss just beneath Howellss ear, and that was when the moment shattered, when reality skidded back in.

Howells knew Hayes well, far too well in fact, and she knew her habits. She could hear Hayes breathing, now, pressed this close; the desperation of earlier had faded to be replaced with something far more even, far more thoughtful. Hayes was thinking about this, Howells realised; she was thinking through her every move, intently figuring out exactly what Howells wanted. Passion had vanished; in its place was something almost clinical, detached. It was ridiculous that Hayes was dropping feather-light kisses along Howellss neck and yet Howells had realised that Hayes had slipped away; Hayes was no longer thinking of her as Howells, but as merely as a body that needed to be pleasured, with a list of points that could be crossed off as each one was achieved.

She briefly wondered if this was something her own lovers had had to deal with. If Daisy had had to deal with it. If Lauren had had to deal with it. If Camille had had to deal with it. If every single name she had forgotten on that list had had to deal with her detached care.

Now that shed realised this, Howells could not continue. This should have been instinctive, exploratory, and it was not. ”Im not an experiment for one of your bloody stories, ” Howells gasped out.

Hayes stiffened immediately, and pulled back enough for them to be able to look at each other in the half light. ”I know that. ”

”No, you don . ” Howells could hear desperation in her tone. ”You
e not here with me, you
e in some **ing box in your head ticking things off as you try them. You know you were. ”

The worst part, the very worst part, was that Howells knew that Hayes was not doing it intentionally. It was just the way she was; even in the throes of what ought to be passion, her clinical mind was still whirring away. She was like a machine, and Howells already knew this, and found herself wondering how she thought it could be any different.

Anger was paling, starting to be replaced with humiliation. Hayes could somehow work out exactly where Howells wanted her to touch her and how and yet Howells could not even distract Hayes from her own thoughts for more than a minute. She felt stripped naked, felt stupid, felt like a puppet being dragged about by an unintentional puppet master. And Hayes was not helping, standing there wordlessly, eyes wide with something that might be guilt or shock or regret or resignation; Howells honestly could not tell.

”I can do this, ” Howells said, breathless, and when she pushed Hayes back the other woman went without argument, stumbling a little. ”I just— I just can . ”

She wrenched the door open, hands shaking. She descended the stairs on automatic pilot.

”Howells! ” Hayes shouted urgently behind her but Howells did not look back, could not look back. ”Alexandra! ”

Howells paused long enough to take her coat, gloves and umbrella from the stand in the hallway, and then walked out into the pouring rain, slamming the front door behind her.