Carnivore: The most controversial debut literary thriller of 2017. Jonathan Lyon

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СКАЧАТЬ dabbing at the stains – confused by herself but not annoyed. ‘What was that?’

      ‘It was quick,’ I said. ‘Do you have any painkillers?’

      ‘I’ve got you paracetamol and ibuprofen. They’re just there.’ She reached to the table behind my head, and as her perfumed wrist passed my nose, it trailed lily of the valley.

      I listened to four foil pockets perforate. She fed me the tablets one by one, between sips of water.

      ‘Anything stronger?’ I asked.

      ‘Are you being ungrateful?’

      ‘This is like… trying to mop up the ocean with a tea towel,’ I said.

      ‘Don’t flatter yourself, you’re not the ocean. You’re a paddling pool at best.’

      ‘Alright, I’m a paddling pool, but I still need better means to mop it up.’

      ‘Well sorry – I’ve run out of whale tranquiliser, or whatever class of chemical you’re accustomed to. Iris will have something stronger at the gallery.’

      I sat up to repress a smile. ‘Are we going to the gallery?’

      ‘If you won’t go to hospital.’

      ‘Even though you hate Francis?’

      ‘It’s not just photos of him. There’s photos of me as well.’

      ‘Who’s Iris?’

      ‘An ally.’

      ‘Are you going to get revenge on Francis?’ I asked.

      ‘Maybe.’

      ‘You should. The best revenge is always erotic.’

      ‘I was thinking that.’ She drank again from the whisky.

      ‘What do you want to do?’

      ‘I have an idea – but I’m not telling you. Aren’t you on his team? You can’t be trusted.’

      ‘Obviously not,’ I said. ‘I don’t work well in teams. Do you have any shoes that could fit me?’

      She laughed. ‘You’re most likely to fit into sling-backs. I’ve already chosen them.’ She pointed to a pair of black suede high heels whose straps curved behind the ankle. ‘But if we’re going down that route then we need to sort out your face.’

      ‘How dare you? I’m beautiful.’

      ‘But you can look more beautiful.’ She kissed me, tasting of whisky – her proximity again twisting in my mind into the sound of a reverberating string. ‘I haven’t done a boy’s make-up since I was a teenager.’

      ‘Can you bring out the best in me?’

      ‘I can’t perform miracles.’

      She left for another room. I began to climb into the dress. My sense of space seemed to be stabilising as the fluids retrieved me to competence. But when I tried to stand, I wobbled, and dropped back onto the cushions. Eva saw me fall as she reentered, and cried ‘Ah!’ in pity.

      ‘Ah!’ I echoed, mockingly.

      From a quilted bag she took out a bottle, and from its dispenser she pumped a puddle of foundation onto the back of her hand.

      ‘This can hide tattoos,’ she said. ‘So it should hide your bruises.’

      She dabbed some on her index finger – but then hesitated.

      ‘No – I’m doing this wrong. We should colour-correct first.’

      ‘Yeah, I want a full actor’s mask,’ I said. ‘Don’t skip any steps.’

      She took another pot from her bag – a wheel of five creams. And with her ring finger, she rubbed at the salmon cream – and then applied it over my bruises, cancelling out their bluish colour. Again I breathed in the scent of lily of the valley at her wrist.

      ‘Ok that’s better,’ she said. ‘Now we can do foundation.’

      She returned to the beige puddle – and dotted it over my face, methodically, delicately. And then with an ovoid tickling sponge, she blended this into a mask.

      ‘I want to do more,’ she said.

      ‘Some eyeliner?’ I suggested.

      ‘A subtle cat eye,’ she said. ‘Some mascara.’

      She held back my forehead with her thumb and lined my lids with thin black wings.

      ‘Blink,’ she instructed, holding up a stick of mascara.

      I closed my upper lashes over its brush, twice for each eye – and let her stroke the lower two until they too were dyed.

      ‘You’re ready.’

      ‘Thank you.’ I kissed her – but she quickly retracted, to admire further the new artifice of my face.

      ‘You can be the red queen, and I’ll be the white,’ she said.

      ‘Did you bring out the best in me?’

      ‘Check,’ she gave me a folded mirror.

      I looked at myself. My skin glistened oddly in this consistency – my eyes seemed more devious in their darkening, and the bruising of the left one was well concealed.

      ‘You bring out… something in me,’ she said. ‘Not the best… but you bring out the me in me. What just happened was… I don’t know. But it’s worked. And this afternoon I was… it was refreshing, to be able to let it out, you know? And I can even say I liked last night, however fucked up it was for you to not tell me about you and Francis.’

      ‘How could I have told you? It had nothing to do with why I came back with you, or why I came to you now.’

      ‘You’re lying but I don’t mind. I’m going to let you play on. At least you’re committed to your role,’ she laughed, indicating my hip wound as its blood blotched her gown towards a sicklier red.

      I tried to kiss her again but she stood up, taking out her phone.

      ‘The taxi’s here,’ she said. ‘And so you’re my date. The boy who stole my boyfriend. This makes no sense.’

      ‘I didn’t steal anyone. And things don’t need to make sense, they just need to be charming.’

      ‘I don’t know if I’m charmed, but I’m – still listening.’

      She wrapped a cape of scarlet mink around my shoulders. I leaned against her as she escorted me into the lift and down into the waiting taxi.

      We shared the back seat. I fell asleep in her lap as she played with my hair. The viola plucks bled together into a single СКАЧАТЬ