LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER FIVE

      Lizzie knew the centre of the town would probably still have people on the streets, couples like themselves, many of them entwined together, planning their night out or making their way to one of the many entertainment venues, and the Bull Ring would be full of people for a few hours yet. What she had to say needed as much privacy as she could get and so she led the way across St Phillip’s churchyard to Temple Row, and from there into a deserted and semi-dark Needless Alley.

      There she stopped and faced Steve, and he smiled to himself. In his book there was only one reason a girl stopped in a dark and quiet place. He was right, Lizzie had fallen for him good and proper, and he decided he’d not go home tonight too frustrated to sleep. Desire, fuelled by the beer he’d consumed, rose in him. A man could only stand so much, he told himself, and by God Lizzie had had things her own way for long enough. He reached for her, pulling her into an entry, and was quite surprised when she twisted out of his grasp.

      ‘Steve, please. I need you to listen.’

      ‘Listen be damned,’ Steve cried. ‘The time for talking is past,’ and he grabbed her again roughly, holding her so tight she was unable to move, her chest so crushed she had trouble drawing breath, let alone crying out. Steve was kissing Lizzie madly, forcing her lips apart, his tongue darting in and out, and she wriggled and fought, tossing her head from side to side.

      Eventually, she freed one of her hands and was able to push Steve away from her. She realised he’d misconstrued her actions in bringing him here, and so she forgave him his frantic lunge and said gently, ‘Steve, I came here tonight to tell you it’s over between us. I did what you asked and gave the relationship more time, but my feelings haven’t changed. I can’t go out with you any more. It wouldn’t be fair.’

      Steve was knocked for six. It was the very last thing he’d expected Lizzie to say and he felt the hurt of it flow through his body. ‘What have I done?’ he asked in an effort to understand. ‘What’s the matter? I love you with all my heart, you know that. Christ, Lizzie, you only have to say what you want, anything, and I’ll get it for you. I love you; I adore you.’

      Tears squeezed out of Lizzie’s eyes, for she knew her words had affected Steve deeply. Although it was too dark to see his face, the pain was apparent in his voice. She was angry for allowing herself to be coaxed into continuing to see this man when she knew she felt nothing for him but friendship, and she shook her head sadly. ‘It isn’t you, Steve, it’s me. I’m sorry.’

      Steve had never begged, he’d never had need to, but he begged now. ‘Please, Lizzie. You don’t know what you are doing to me. I don’t think I can bear not to ever see you again.’

      Lizzie shut her eyes and let the tears trickle down her cheeks.

      ‘Anyway,’ Steve went on stubbornly, ‘I don’t know why you’re saying these things cos you don’t want to. I can hear it in your voice.’

      Lizzie felt for Steve’s fingers and held his hands. ‘You do hear sadness,’ she admitted, ‘because I am sad that I don’t feel the same for you as you feel for me. I care for you, Steve, I do truly, and I wish I could feel more, but I can’t.’

      ‘I don’t believe you,’ Steve said again. ‘How can I? Look how you behaved the first night I met you.’

      Lizzie was dreadfully ashamed of that night. ‘I was drunk and I can remember little about it. I am really sorry if I gave you the wrong impression of me.’

      Steve’s eyes narrowed. He knew nothing had happened that night, but Lizzie had admitted she didn’t remember it. He was hurting to his very soul and he hit back. ‘Well you did give me the wrong impression, and not just me, I might add. People were scandalised by your shameless behaviour. And when you suggested going outside there was no holding you. I was good enough for you then all right. There isn’t much of your body I haven’t explored already, so what you’re being so prissy about now beats me. As for being drunk, my old woman always says that what’s in a man sober comes out when he’s drunk, and I reckon it’s the same for a woman, so don’t play the bloody innocent with me.’

      Lizzie listened, appalled. She didn’t doubt the truth of what Steve said. Hadn’t Tressa hinted at something similar? But to hear the words dripping from Steve’s tongue. God, it didn’t bear thinking about.

      But Steve hadn’t finished. ‘It was you begging me to go on then,’ he said.

      ‘My God!’ Lizzie thought. The disgrace of such behaviour engulfed her and she held her head in her hands.

      Steve was enjoying her obvious discomfort and went on: ‘Ripe for it, you was. It took all my willpower, I’ll tell you, not to take you that night, for you wanted me to. Bloody fool that I am, I didn’t want to take advantage, like. I did think, though, after that performance, you’d be little goer like your cousin, but you turned into an ice maiden. By Christ, you’re a prickteaser all right.’

      Lizzie was mortified. Never in her wildest dreams and however much she had drunk would she have believed she could have conducted herself in such a way. If her parents knew any of this they would disown her. She was so burdened down with the things Steve had told her, the total embarrassment of it all seeping out of the very pores of her skin, that she was unprepared for Steve, who chose that moment to make a grab at her.

      She tried to wrench herself from his arm, and though she managed to push him away, one of Steve’s hands held on to the neck of her coat and the blouse beneath. She was suddenly scared of Steve for the first time. ‘Let me go, Steve, for pity’s sake?’

      Steve didn’t answer, but Lizzie heard his breath coming in short pants. She knew she had to get away and quickly. The sudden lunge she gave took him by surprise and she heard some of the buttons from her coat fall to the ground and felt the blouse tear and Steve’s fingernails rake the back of her neck.

      But it mattered little for she was free, and she began to run as she’d never run before, up Temple Row and across the churchyard to the hotel, expecting any minute to hear footsteps pounding behind her or clawing hands reaching for her.

      She almost sobbed with relief as she reached the door of the hotel, and as most of the buttons had been ripped from her coat she wrapped it tightly round her before opening the door. Even so, Ron, the night porter, looked at her strangely as she made for the stairs. ‘You all right?’

      ‘Aye, I’m fine,’

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