Cloud 9
Page 26
‘She’s okay, thanks. Off visiting Dad today. She took Lily with her. Rose, like me, still refuses to see him.’ She tries not to stare at her house beyond the prickly hedge. It’s always strange to think of a new family, mum, dad, three children, in there. As if it’s happening all over again somehow.
Going on inside, she finds Tom poring over a list of names on the kitchen table.
He bolts up as he spies her, grabbing her to him. Planting his lips on hers. She laughs into his mouth. It’s as if he hasn’t seen her in weeks. When it was only yesterday.
Him
He wasn’t going to show her, but he can’t hide it now. ‘Ethan brought it over. His team have added more names to their Cloud 9 surveillance.’
He watches her eyes widen as she glances down the list.
‘Will it never end?’ she says with a long sigh, absently twisting her fingers through his hair. ‘My post from yesterday got more trolls than ever. Maybe I should stop writing it.’
He rubs her arm and tries to keep from saying, I wish you would. ‘How was Mikey this morning?’ he sniffs.
‘Fine,’ she says distractedly, her eyes still focusing on the names. ‘Some funding’s slowly trickling back in. But it’s not enough.’
‘Unhappiness is still not a priority,’ Tom says, grimacing. ‘Shall I get us some Cokes for the treehouse? Unless it’s too cold for you?’
‘Never,’ she says.
Her
It’s where she’s happiest. Sitting up here with Tom. Above the rest of the world. Beside one another on the treehouse platform, shoulder to shoulder, fingers laced together. Faces close, still a little bronzed from memories of a hot summer. Their legs swing off the ledge, occasionally knocking into one another.
Him
‘Do you ever wish I’d never started all of this? That you were still taking Leata?’
Her
She shoulders him. ‘As if.’ Only fleetingly she thinks: she’d still have her old life; she’d still think her dad was the best, not the worst. ‘The truth is all that matters isn’t it? Even if it makes people miserable?’
Him
‘I thought you wrote on your blog today that ‘happiness is the sum of the lies you accept and the truths you reject’?
Her
‘You liar – you do read it!’
Him
‘Just so I can see how super, super excited you are about Christmas already.’
Her
She nudges him hard. ‘Oi. People still need my brand of enthusiasm. Life can be exciting you know, Mr Harbinger.’ Hope laughs as he makes pokes at her. Leaning her head into his chest, she glances briefly between the gaps in the trees at next door, then blinks away again. No – she mustn’t think about how her old house makes her feel. Tom would suggest they didn’t meet here any more if he knew. And she doesn’t want that either. So she’ll keep it to herself.
Him
He leans his face down towards the top of Hope’s head, kissing her hair softly. ‘Pavlin’s suggesting we road trip next summer to visit Hari at his swanky California Apple job.’
Hope laughs. ‘How come he became some internet sensation when we still get bad-mouthed?’
‘It’s his god-like appearance, you said.’ He waits for her to deny it, flicking her when she fake swoons.
Her
‘I’m just counting the days till we get to go to university together.’ She looks up at him. ‘Have you got your UCAS form yet?’
He doesn’t answer, instead he says, ‘I’m counting the days to the new Star Wars film.’
Him
‘I’ll get the form,’ he says, as Hope glowers at him. He drifts his gaze away so she can’t glance the lie in his eyes.
Hope settles back against his chest. He lifts and examines their weaved fingers. His are pale against hers, still coloured from summer.
Gazing beyond, onto the ground below, it’s never hard to imagine his dad down there, messing about, smoking his spliffs and cursing inappropriately.
He lifts Hope’s hair and kisses her neck; her skin is warm. He can feel the beat of her pulse. Her hand grips his tighter, like she knows what’s on his mind. Like she knows too, that if they don’t hold on, they’re in danger of falling off.
Her
Keeping some things back, but telling Tom the truths she tells no one else … maybe it’s the only way to be with the people you love.
Him
He buries his face further into the warmth of her neck. He wishes he could pause time on moments like this. ‘You make me happy,’ he says suddenly, realising that’s the only truth he needs right now.
Her
Hope twists round to kiss him hard on the lips. ‘Life will be okay, as long as we stick together.’
Him
He thinks of his dad below again. ‘Life’s short.’
Her
Hope reaches up, removing Tom’s glasses so she can see his eyes. ‘So – enjoy it.’
Acknowledgements
A huge thank you goes to my editor, Naomi Colthurst, for prodding and poking me to think bigger. Also to Georgia Murray and Sarah Odedina, and all at Hot Key Books.
Thank you Jet Purdie and Levente Szabó for yet another head-spin of a beautiful book cover, and to Kirsty Mclachlan for such incredible support and advice. Plus I’m indebted to the Arts Council England, for the funding enabling me to write full time. I can’t describe what that means without writing another novel.
I want to thank all my family and friends for their support and love, but special mentions go to: Tom Jordan, not only for lending me his name, but for his inspiring teen spirit; my parents for essential childcare needs; the Newhall clan, for fervent flag-waving. For valuable insight and reading duties: Christina, Harprit, Sally, Lucie, Jo, Rosie, Chloe, Lucy. To all those who travelled from afar to support me last year – it meant so much. To the book world, big and small: my writers’ group, book club, local library, bookshops, and the book blogging community, for all your support and enthusiasm. Oh, and a cheer for babies born (Benji, Caitlin, Eadie) and weddings wed (Camilla and Kevin).
Most importantly, thank you to Duncan for keeping the home fires burning and providing the neat and order so I am free to create the chaos. And a huge kiss-smack of appreciation to Laurie and Mae – for always making me laugh uncontrollably, whatever the weather.
And last of all, thank you to Julian House in Bath, most especially Donna and Jamie, for giving up your time to talk to me and for opening my eyes to the amazing work you do for the homeless. The world needs more people like you.
Alex Campbell
Alex Campbell announced she was going to be a writer at eight years old. But no one took much notice. After a nomadic education daydreaming in back rows across Luton, Chester, London, Sheffield and Middlesbrough – and one English degree later – Alex moved into the world of PR and copywriting. Here she worked on getting other people noticed instead.
Alex now lives near Bath with one husband, two children and a fat smile on her face – that her eight-year-old self’s ambition has finally been realised. When she’s not gazing dreamily out of windows, Alex can usually be found, notebook at the ready, in dark art-house cinemas, propping up coffee bars, or worse. Follow Alex on Twitter: @ACampbellWrites
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First published in Great Britain in 2015 by Hot Key Books
Northburgh House, 10 Northburgh Street, London EC1V 0AT
Text copyright © Alex Campbell 2015
Cover illustration copyright © Levente Szabo 2015
The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or tra
nsmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-4714-0355-2
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