Nancy
launched out of her seat and was knocked back by her seatbelt’s locking device.
The metal clasp slithered within her fingertips before she managed to release
herself. His hand continued to squirm like a jellyfish caught in netting. The
animation did not reflect the inertia of Vince’s other hand.
He
wasn’t breathing.
Nancy’s
headdress flopped around and her earrings clinked as she clambered across the
seat. Her bloodied hand landed upon Vince’s overcoat crumpled on the seat. No
bruise on his neck, not even a scratch. Why wasn’t he breathing?
Her
fingers hovered above his tie. A narrow gleam in his eye dared her to touch
him. A misgiving stole over her at the idea of defying his wish.
She
slipped off her shoes and scrambled via the knees over the unit. Vince’s skull
abruptly rebounded against the headrest. His abdomen bucked. White frenzy
washed over her. She hitched up the skirt of her dress and crawled onto his
lap, thighs astride of his.
She
rocked forwards so that her knees took her weight and seized his tie with both
hands. To her surprise, his hand remained rock-still at his throat.
She
worried the knot. Her fingertips trampled blood over his collar. Irked, she
wiped the paste onto the flanks of her dress. The cabin swirled in a crazy ebb.
She
inserted her small digit into the hoop at the top and fished out the tongue.
She teased the silk. Without warning, his hands starfished out. He clutched at
her dress. His eyes slitted over in rage. Sweat now soured the scent of his oak
spiced with sap. His hooks tore at her buttons before his fingers locked hers
in a brief but stony embrace. Her headdress fell askew with the force.
They
were having sex.
You belong to you and me…
She batted his hands away. She flicked his tie
from his neck and cast it aside. She proceeded to unbutton his shirt.
He believes in you and me…
His
fingers minced at her skirt. Increased panic resorted her to ripping open his
shirt. His chest had grown ashen. Oily sweat flattened the hairs around his
abdomen. His neck and chest area were clear; there was no sign of bruising. She
would have to look inside his mouth.
Vince
swiped at the air. She fenced off his fists in frantic slaps. His force
disturbed her; she tried not to think about it and pushed his hands with brute
force. The whites of his eyes glimmered beneath wavering lids; his mouth had
blanched to grey. She planted a finger upon his lower lip and teased his mouth
open. His frenzied fug took over in another swell. The tendons of his jaw
solidified and his head shook, but she could see the tip of his tongue flicking
the inner walls of his teeth.
His
tongue had not rolled back. There must be an obstruction; a throat injury. With
his feet trapped, performing the Heimlich maneouvre had been made impossible.
She burrowed her fist beneath his breastbone and pushed forcibly.
But
Vince wasn’t having it. His knuckle racked the window. His midriff reared up
and he cuffed her chest. A wheezing moan arrested her. Had he taken a breath
just then? No, she quickly realised. The sound had not been his. The sound had
been hers.
The
coward within her instilled a demount from his lap. She emitted another
wheezing moan as she scrambled towards her retreat. Her hips rebounded against
a wall of air. She didn’t have to look back to know Vince had seized the lace
trimming of her dress. Stitches cleaved in a stuttering rasp. Sweat trickled
between her breasts in her effort to counter his force. Her hands made tacky
kisses over the seat. She averted her eyes from the gouge marks on the seat.
Her moans transmuted into grunts. She wondered. The death-throws of a
supernova? The final cloudburst of a storm? Or worst of all, terror of a final
desertion? Please end. Please let it end.
A
hand caressed the back of Nancy’s head. She collapsed onto her stomach. The
caress meandered over her hair and made a track across her neck.
Aunt
Millie – her mother’s sister from Bedfordshire; wearer of bobbed haircuts and
quilted coats. Nancy’s mother branded her boring. Boring Aunt Millie; jigsaws
and monopoly. Nancy desperately wanted Aunt Millie’s boring company beside her
in the cab.
Instead
the caress terminated at Nancy’s shoulder. Glass beads pitched at the fringes
of her vision and dropped away.
