contestants with plastic smiles hover on the screen. She flicks through the channels then turns the television off again. Silence. She reaches for another remote control and switches on the stereo. The music is gentle. It must be Donna’s. After checking her phone again she snaps the chocolate into segments and opens the foil packet. She lets the pieces melt in her mouth as she sips her tea.
The sound of a key in the front door wakes her and she realises she is still cradling her mug. There is no message from Steve. When she tries to call again his number remains unavailable. That evening Donna and Raven move around her like ghosts. She hardly notices them. Questions hang in the air unanswered. When they head for their beds Donna covers Sarah with a blanket.
The following morning at eleven o’clock she makes herself a pot noodle for lunch. Resisting the temptation to curl up again on the sofa, she fetches her artist’s supplies: a wooden box of acrylic paints. Her Muse is hiding and, after thirty minutes, she packs it all away again, without making a single mark. Pushing the supplies back under her bed, she pulls out a small black box. Inside is a packet of razor blades. The steel calls to her. Reaching for a new blade, she smiles. She lifts her skirt, baring her pale thighs and makes her marks. The steel is cold as it bites into her flesh. Teeth clamped against her bottom lip, she shivers. Her canvas is threaded with red and pain is her art. Her pulse quickens. The sting cleanses her. All other pain is forgotten and for a few moments she is free.
She decides to go back to Paul’s house. After pressing the buzzer she waits for what seems like an eternity. Then finally the gate opens and she trudges up to the door. Paul stands blocking the entrance. He is wrapped in a silk dressing gown.
‘I was in the shower,’ he says.
The ridiculousness of Paul’s explanation silences her. His hair is dry and his body stinks. He repulses her, and the idea of him touching Steve makes her body shake and her stomach burn. Anger bubbles and a red mist sweeps across her eyes, breathing deeply through clenched teeth she wills the worst of her anger away, until at last she feels able to speak.
‘Can I see Steve, please?’ she asks.
‘Of course, he’s just … practising. He’ll be right down. Would you … like to come inside,’ he asks, motioning the hallway with a dramatic sweep of his arm.
‘Thanks,’ she mutters.
Steve descends the large staircase like a debutante. His hand strokes the polished wood banister and his steps are carefully measured. Sarah doesn’t know whether to laugh at him or cry with relief. She does neither. Impatient for him to reach the bottom she rushes forwards.
‘How are you? I tried to phone. Your mobile must be switched off. Have you found anything? Are you ready to come home yet? You look strange. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ he answers, but his eyes look glazed. She wonders whether he’s been sleeping.
‘Have you found anything yet? Any way to stop her ?’ She emphasises the word, challenging Paul.
‘I think I’ve almost got it,’ Steve answers. Each word is spoken like a yawn. Sarah is worried he might fall over. She reaches for his elbow to support him. He weighs nothing and for a moment Sarah imagines her hand passing straight through his arm. His insubstantiality terrifies her. Is this what I really want – to lose him?
‘You’re not eating,’ she says. ‘When will you come home?’
He shakes his head in silence. She turns and looks to Paul instead.
‘When will he come home?’ she asks Paul.
‘When he’s ready. He needs to be prepared,’ Paul answers.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ she asks.
‘He’s perfectly okay. The magic just takes its toll. He’ll go back to being the Satori we know and love as soon as it’s all over. Now did you need something? Only he really should get back to work.’
She turns back to Steve. Staring into his eyes she sees mist
The sound of a key in the front door wakes her and she realises she is still cradling her mug. There is no message from Steve. When she tries to call again his number remains unavailable. That evening Donna and Raven move around her like ghosts. She hardly notices them. Questions hang in the air unanswered. When they head for their beds Donna covers Sarah with a blanket.
The following morning at eleven o’clock she makes herself a pot noodle for lunch. Resisting the temptation to curl up again on the sofa, she fetches her artist’s supplies: a wooden box of acrylic paints. Her Muse is hiding and, after thirty minutes, she packs it all away again, without making a single mark. Pushing the supplies back under her bed, she pulls out a small black box. Inside is a packet of razor blades. The steel calls to her. Reaching for a new blade, she smiles. She lifts her skirt, baring her pale thighs and makes her marks. The steel is cold as it bites into her flesh. Teeth clamped against her bottom lip, she shivers. Her canvas is threaded with red and pain is her art. Her pulse quickens. The sting cleanses her. All other pain is forgotten and for a few moments she is free.
She decides to go back to Paul’s house. After pressing the buzzer she waits for what seems like an eternity. Then finally the gate opens and she trudges up to the door. Paul stands blocking the entrance. He is wrapped in a silk dressing gown.
‘I was in the shower,’ he says.
The ridiculousness of Paul’s explanation silences her. His hair is dry and his body stinks. He repulses her, and the idea of him touching Steve makes her body shake and her stomach burn. Anger bubbles and a red mist sweeps across her eyes, breathing deeply through clenched teeth she wills the worst of her anger away, until at last she feels able to speak.
‘Can I see Steve, please?’ she asks.
‘Of course, he’s just … practising. He’ll be right down. Would you … like to come inside,’ he asks, motioning the hallway with a dramatic sweep of his arm.
‘Thanks,’ she mutters.
Steve descends the large staircase like a debutante. His hand strokes the polished wood banister and his steps are carefully measured. Sarah doesn’t know whether to laugh at him or cry with relief. She does neither. Impatient for him to reach the bottom she rushes forwards.
‘How are you? I tried to phone. Your mobile must be switched off. Have you found anything? Are you ready to come home yet? You look strange. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ he answers, but his eyes look glazed. She wonders whether he’s been sleeping.
‘Have you found anything yet? Any way to stop her ?’ She emphasises the word, challenging Paul.
‘I think I’ve almost got it,’ Steve answers. Each word is spoken like a yawn. Sarah is worried he might fall over. She reaches for his elbow to support him. He weighs nothing and for a moment Sarah imagines her hand passing straight through his arm. His insubstantiality terrifies her. Is this what I really want – to lose him?
‘You’re not eating,’ she says. ‘When will you come home?’
He shakes his head in silence. She turns and looks to Paul instead.
‘When will he come home?’ she asks Paul.
‘When he’s ready. He needs to be prepared,’ Paul answers.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ she asks.
‘He’s perfectly okay. The magic just takes its toll. He’ll go back to being the Satori we know and love as soon as it’s all over. Now did you need something? Only he really should get back to work.’
She turns back to Steve. Staring into his eyes she sees mist
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