Chapter 32 - Trouble

The hotel in Exeter, where Edith's paper was being presented, was just as I expected – stuffy, expensive, and the hotel room sparsely furnished – modern decorating having gone the way of black, white and empty.

I arrived late after tending to the hair eating Ted Nugent at Auntie Joan's farm. The man's bloating, evil smelling belching and general malaise had finally presented itself as a mass of coagulated hair on the rug. There are things that make even me blanch. Stomach contents, to which I was no stranger, as I was a frequent viewer of my own, can be most foul. But this was the worst. The mass I had palpated in his abdomen was due to trichopagia – hair eating – and it had caused what the ancients called a bezoar or a hairball. Curiously these were valued by alchemists as detectors of poison – mad thought.

But what I did not expect upon hotel check-in was that Edith had assumed that she and I would be sharing a room, and a bed. As I'd fiddled about with the blasted key-card, which would not open the door, it suddenly flew open and there stood Edith, her blue eyes expectant.

"We're sharing." I said.

She was all smiles. "I find that a night together works out better if both parties are in the same room." Her brow then furrowed. "Don't you think?"

I could only mutter "yes" to cover my surprise and discomfort. I felt like I was in a mine field, hidden traps about. So I decided… well, to just look for an opening. Before I could go on, she interrupted my thinking.

"Any last thoughts on my speech?" she went on peering at her computer.

Any last thoughts… Those words rung through my head. Good question, Ellingham, my internal voice added. Whatever are you doing here with Edith? Any last words from the condemned man?

Before I could mull that over further I made two small comments about her paper. Both of which she quickly rejected in a slightly dismissive tone.

I fiddled with the thermostat as she said that she would acknowledge my participation in preparing the paper.

"No need." I puzzled over the tiny control panel to turn off the A/C. I found the tiny switch and flipped it to off.

"But you enjoyed the process," she said her eyes and mouth smiling.

I did not answer her, not trusting myself.

She then echoed my sentiments that air-conditioning ducts are a breeding ground for microbes and bacteria. "Yes I know," she finished, as I tried to open the sealed window. Modern buildings baffle me. We live in a perfectly reasonable climate, yet they seal the buildings up as if we are in some fanciful base on the surface of the moon.

She went on about the temperature and didn't I want to take my jacket off?

"No," I replied. "Shouldn't you be mingling?"

"I know who I need to talk to and what I have to say to them. And I don't mingle."

I had my back to her as I unpacked my things. The first dresser drawer held black lacy undergarments and some sort of see-through black thing… I'm certain that my eyes boggled. I quickly closed the drawer and opened the next, placing my folded pyjamas within.

"Our schedule... is speech, applause, dinner… bed."

I dropped my toothbrush on the floor as I turned in surprise. This was far more complicated then I possibly imagined. And it got worse.

"A little networking would ease your return from the wilderness…" she nattered on and unbuttoned her blouse exposing her bra and a fancy one it was. The sort of type that she'd not worn back in medical school.

I felt a cold chill as it all became perfectly clear what Edith Montgomery expected. The single king-sized bed, the one room, the undergarments… God! She wanted… sex… with me!

She almost giggled at my discomfort. "You're not… shy are you?"

"No. I'll, uhm, just go…"

She smiled hugely with a twinkle in her eye. "I know it's been a while, Ellingham, but you have seen me naked before."

I took my suit in hand from closet. "I'll just give you some space." I ducked into the bathroom my only escape route.

She went on, "Nothing's changed, just less springy!"

Naked. It's such a simple, yet evocative word. Yes I had seen her naked, and she me, long ago. We were in medical school, and our trysts were perfunctory, scheduled, command performances. I had learned a lot from them and yet I contrasted them with my few times making love with Louisa Glasson. Oh, Louisa, I do love you… Ellingham, you've burnt that bridge now – no going back! Yet I felt quite certain that any activity of that sort with Edith now would just as mechanical as they were years back. God!

I hung my fresh suit on the back of the door and stared long and hard at my reflection. The man there looked normal, formal and strong – all but the eyes, which looked strained. But the one inside my body was upset, nervous, and fidgety.

I felt boxed in, surrounded by my actions as well as Edith's and I didn't like it. Not one bit. Just have to carry through and look… Look for what Ellingham? An exit, a release, or should you acquiesce to the expectations of sharing a bed and her body? Is that what you want? Is that what this whole thing has been about these last few months? Edith thinks she had built up a relationship that YOU do not feel, and it was all in her head? Now Edith wants to carry on where she left off, many years back?

I sighed at the man in the mirror, then stripped off my clothes and changed into fresh ones. I should have brought in my toiletries and shaved. I didn't feel that much stubble, yet if I did shave, Edith might think I was making myself presentable for her. Ghastly thought.

Louisa came to mind and the baby; our baby. I'd leave them both behind in Portwenn in just a few days. Edith would likely expect that this - encounter - would continue throughout my days in London. And like her announcement of the day's schedule, it would be regimented, laid out like clockwork, and at her command. But this clock, Ellingham, will be ever so much more difficult to regulate then those laying in pieces on your kitchen table.

I went out and she whirled, having gotten dressed, thank God. "Compliment me Ellingham."

It wasn't a question, it was an order. Another one. And on top of everything that was bloody wrong here, it was one more dab of icing on the cake – a cake I did not want to touch, let alone eat. I flashed forward to the fanciful future encounter on that king-size bed, the one likely crawling with bedbugs and who knows what? I stripped the sheets and examined the mattress, the likely place for the tiny parasites. This activity was mainly to give me time to think.

Even then as I examined the fabric, Edith was being very imperious with me, where to sit in the conference room, how to act…

There came a knock at the door and a waiter came in bearing a tray with a sandwich. He was fat, short, walked stiffly, and had a bulging temporal artery. But he left quickly before I could elicit a response to my questions.

"The man has a condition known as polymyalgia rheumatica – he could lose his eyesight!" I exclaimed to Edith as I set off after the man.

I vaguely heard Edith yell after me, her voice distorted by a bite of sandwich. "This is my night Ellingham!"

Yes, YOUR night Edith. Well we shall see.

The room door closed behind me and I was on the hunt for the waiter, who although heavy moved considerably quickly. As I pursued the man through the twisty corridors of the hotel I called out, but the man kept going, and it was a matter of cat and mouse.

I finally caught up with him on the ground floor in the kitchen. That, as they say, is when all the trouble started.