A conversation？ she thought； it must be a public holiday。
'I don't know how to tell you this。'
'Try me；' she suggested。
She knew that she could think his tongue into speaking if it pleased her。 Make him tell her what she wanted to hear。 Words of love； maybe； if she could remember what they sounded like。 But what was the use of that？ Better the truth。
'Darling； I've gone off the rails a bit。'
'What do you mean？' she said。
Have you； you bastard； she thought。
'It was while you weren't quite yourself。 You know； when things had more or less stopped between us。 Separate rooms。 。 。 you wanted separate rooms。 。 。 and I just went bananas with frustration。 I didn't want to upset you； so I didn't say anything。 But it's no use me trying to live two lives。'
'You can have an affair if you want to； Ben。'
'It's not an affair； Jackie。 I love her …'
He was preparing one of his speeches； she could see it gathering momentum behind his teeth。 The justifications that became accusations； those excuses that always turned into assaults on her character。 Once he got into full flow there'd be no stopping him。 She didn't want to hear。
'… she's not like you at all； Jackie。 She's frivolous in her way。 I suppose you'd call her shallow。'
It might be worth interrupting here； she thought； before he ties himself in his usual knots。
'She's not moody like you。 You know； she's just a normal woman。 I don't mean to say you're not normal： you can't help having depressions。 But she's not so sensitive。'
'There's no need； Ben …'
'No； damn it； I want it all off my chest。'
On to me； she thought。
'You've never let me explain；' he was saying。 'You've always given me one of those damn looks of yours； as if you wished I'd …'
Die。
'… wished I'd shut up。'
Shut up。
'You don't care how I feel！' He was shouting now。 'Always in your own little world。'
Shut up； she thought。
His mouth was open。 She seemed to wish it closed； and with the thought his jaws snapped together； severing the very tip of his pink tongue。 It fell from between his lips and lodged in a fold of his shirt。
Shut up； she thought again。
The two perfect regiments of his teeth ground down into each other； cracking and splitting； nerve； calcium and spit making a pinkish foam on his chin as his mouth collapsed inwards。
Shut up； she was still thinking as his startled baby blues sank back into his skull and his nose wormed its way into his brain。
He was not Ben any longer； he was a man with a red lizard's head； flattening； battening down upon itself； and； thank God； he was past speech…making once and for all。
Now she had the knack of it； she began to take pleasure in the changes she was willing upon him。
She flipped him head over heels on to the floor and began to press his arms and legs； telescoping flesh and resistant bone into a smaller and yet smaller space。 His clothes were folded inwards； and the tissue of his stomach was plucked from his neatly packaged entrails and stretched around his body to wrap him up。 His fingers were poking from his shoulder…blades now； and his feet； still thrashing with fury； were tripped up in his gut。 She turned him over one final time to pressure his spine into a foot…long column of muck； and that was about the end of it。
As she came out of her ecstasy she saw Ben sitting on the floor； shut up into a space about the size of one of his fine leather suitcases； while blood； bile and lymphatic fluid pulsed weakly from his hushed body。
My God； she thought； this can't be my husband。 He's never been as tidy as that。
This time she didn't wait for help。 This time she knew what she'd done （guessed； even； how she'd done it） and she accepted her crime for the too…rough justice it was。
She packed her bags and left the home。
I'm alive； she thought。 For the first time in my whole； wretched life； I'm alive。
Vassi's Testimony （part one）
'To you who dream of sweet； strong women I leave this story。 It is a promise； as surely as it is a confession； as surely as it's the last words of a lost man who wanted nothing but to love and be loved。 I sit here trembling； waiting for the night； waiting for that whining pimp Koos to e to my door again； and take everything I own from me in exchange for the key to her room。
I am not a courageous man； and I never have been：
so I'm afraid of what may happen to me tonight。 But I cannot go through life dreaming all the time； existing through the darkness on only a glimpse of heaven。 Sooner or later； one has to gird one's loins （that's appropriate） and get up and find it。 Even if it means giving away the world in exchange。
I probably make no sense。 You're thinking； you who chanced on this testimony； you're thinking； who was he； this imbecile？
My name was Oliver Vassi。 I am now thirty…eight years old。 I was a lawyer； until a year or more ago； when I began the search that ends tonight with that pimp and that key and that holy of holies。
But the story begins more than a year ago。 It is many years since Jacqueline Ess first came to me。
She arrived out of the blue at my offices； claiming to be the widow of a friend of mine from Law School； one Benjamin Ess； and when I thought back； I remembered the face。 A mutual friend who'd been at the wedding had shown me a photograph of Ben and his blushing bride。 And here she was； every bit as elusive a beauty as her photograph 'promised。
I remember being acutely embarrassed at that first interview。 She'd arrived at a busy time； and I was up to my neck in work。 But I was so enthralled by her； I let all the day's interviews fall by the wayside； and when my secretary came in she gave me one of her steely glances as if to throw a bucket of cold water over me。 I suppose I was enamoured from the start； and she sensed the electric atmosphere in my office。 Me； I pretended I was merely being polite to the widow of an old friend。 I didn't like to think about passion： it wasn't a part of my nature； or so I thought。 How little we know … I mean really know …about our capabilities。
Jacqueline told me lies at that first meeting。 About how Ben had died of cancer； of how often he had spoken of me； and how fondly。 I suppose she could have told me the truth then and there； and I would have lapped it up … I believe I was utterly devoted from the beginning。
But it's difficult to remember quite how and when interest in another human being flares into something more mitted； more passionate。 It may be that I am inventing the impact she had on me at that first meeting； simply re…inventing history to justify my later excesses。 I'm not sure。 Anyway； wherever and whenever it happened； however quickly or slowly； I succumbed to her； and the affair began。
I'm not a particularly inquisitive man where my friends； or my bed…partners； are concerned。 As a lawyer one spends one's time going through the dirt of other people's lives； and frankly； eight hours a day of that is quite enough for me。 When I'm out of the office my pleasure is in letting people be。 I don't pry； I don't dig； I just take them on face value。
Jacqueline was no exception to this rule。 She was a woman I was glad to have in my life whatever the truth of her past。 She possessed a marvellous sang…froid； she was witty； bawdy； oblique。 I had never met a more enchanting woman。 It was none of my business how she'd lived with Ben； what the marriage had been like etc。； etc。 That was her history。 I was happy to live in the present； and let the past die its own death。 I think I even flattered myself that whatever pain she had experienced； I could help her forget it。
Certainly her stories had holes in them。 As a lawyer； I was trained to be eagle…eyed where fabrications were concerned； and however much I tried to put my percep…tions aside I sensed that she wasn't quite ing clean with me。 But everyone has secrets： I knew that。 Let her have hers； I thought。
Only once did I challenge her on a detail of her pretended life…story。 In talking about Ben's death； she let slip that he had got what he deserved。 I asked her what she meant。 She smiled； that Gioconda smile of hers； and told me that she felt there was a balance to be redressed between men and women。 I let the observation pass。 After all； I was obsessed by that time； past all hope of salvation； whatever argument she was putting； I was happy to concede it。
She was so beautiful； you see。 Not in any two dimen…sional sense： she wasn't young； she wasn't innocent； she didn't have that pristine symmetry so favoured by ad…men and photographers。 Her face was plainly that of a woman in her early forties： it had been used to laugh and cry； and usage leaves its marks。 But she had a power to transform herself； in the subtlest way； making that face as various as the sky。 Early on； I thought it was a make…up trick。 But as we slept together more and more； and I watched her in the mornings； sleep in her eyes； and in the evenings； heavy with fatigue； I soon realized she wore nothing on her skull but flesh and blood。 What transformed her was internal： it was a trick of the will。
And； you know； that made me love her all the more。
Then one night I woke with her sleeping beside me。 We slept often on the floor； which she preferred to t