Song to Wake to - Levels # 1 (Paranormal Romance)

by Jd Field

  Chapter 4: Bend in the Road

  I stared. The Camelot party. Four hot, practically naked, older boys stood on the side of a pool inviting me to the school’s social event of the year. There was only one possible answer. “Thanks, but, you’ve got to be joking. Now I really have to go.” I walked past them, feet slapping on the tiles, again conscious of my own near-nakedness.

  That evening’s training session was the best I’d ever had. I spent most of it in a slowly waning fury. The coach set me a series of more and more difficult drills, but they seemed to get faster and easier as I went. Established Levels swimmers were better and at first overtook me, churning the water. They tired earlier, however, and towards the end I was holding my own, feeling bizarrely as if I was swimming downhill.

  When we finished, though, I felt just as exhausted as they must have been. Washing my hair, my arms trembled from shoulders to fingertips and I had to drop them to my side and rest before I rinsed off the conditioner. With weary legs the ride home took much longer. I hummed as I pedalled along the very straight road. I should have accepted the invitation, of course. It would have been an enormous leap up the Levels social ladder. It was just the way the boys presented it, like it was the best invitation anyone had ever given me. They didn’t know me. They didn’t know what parties I had been invited to. Their assumption that I would be all over them had summoned punk Madeleine. How dare they?

  I ignored the barking dogs. Would Kieran tell people I had turned him down? Probably not, it would be embarrassing. Would Eddy Moon hear about it? What would he think? Was he going to the party? He seemed in the orbit of the Four Horsemen, but not like them, making it hard to judge.

  I arrived home to a completely new kind of Friday night. I watched soap operas and game shows with Mum, then went to bed early. The next day promised one of the biggest horrors of my new routine. Saturday school. Maybe this was how private schools succeeded. They made students work three times as hard as at other schools.

  In the morning I hauled myself out of my narrow bed, its saggy old mattress almost folding in half as I sat on one edge. I needed to persuade Mum an IKEA trip was a priority. I opened the curtains and narrowed my eyes. Down the road, in the top of a tall tree, I recognised the silhouette of the weird, crow-like bird. An icy shiver swept down my spine. Holding its wings out on each side, the bird reminded me of a demon on the front of a heavy metal band tour t-shirt. Two years before I had decided heavy metal was my favourite thing in the world. I got bored after a year, but my love for Motorhead remained. I started the playlist on my Mac and yelled along to the ‘Ace of Spades’ as I got ready.

  “It’s raining,” Mum said when I arrived in the kitchen. “I’ll take you to school.”

  I thought for a moment. Oddly I had been looking forward to the bike ride. “No it’s okay. I’ll wear a raincoat.” I tied my hair back into a neat braid, like one of the horse riding girls, and set out. The rain was deceptive, though. It looked heavy in the distance, and seemed to dimple puddles in the gutter, but my rain coat stayed almost dry. Halfway to school I smiled. Good thing we hadn’t come by car.

  Descending to the last junction before the road levelled out, I almost ran into the back of a long traffic jam. At the head of the line I found a small van with “University of Bath Archaeology Department” written across its side. Two young men in luminous vests unloaded digging equipment and protective barriers. I nodded at them as I wheeled my bike around the holdup, then remounted and whizzed on to school.

  Lessons finished at lunchtime, followed by an hour of swimming. A monster IKEA trip and a marathon of assembling our purchases occupied the rest of the weekend. By Sunday evening, though cool, pale furniture filled my bedroom I was absolutely sick of instruction sheets and nuts and bolts. Sighing, I dropped to my bedroom floor, leaned against my new ice blue bed cover, and rubbed the velvety softness of the brushed cotton between my finger and thumb. When he returned Hurley wouldn’t recognise the place. A thud and a volley of swearing erupted from Mum’s room. I stood up “Mum? Are you okay?”

  In her room, Mum sat in the middle of a circle of small wooden panels. Red faced, she looked up at me. “Maddie, I think there’s something wrong with the destructions.”

  “Ha! Instructions you mean.”

  “Same difference. Can you make supper for us? I want to get the better of this.”

  In the kitchen I sighed, remembering long London weekends full of fun. I had never had such a boring time that I actually looked forward to going back to school. I went to bed early and dreamed of the swimming pool and its water pushing me along like a river.

  In the morning the bike ride was less fun. My backside ached from the week before, and mist held the night’s chill across the levels. I managed to zone out, though, and so the three dogs barking behind the gate again made me jump. “Shut up!” I yelled at them, which only served to amplify their fury. They leaped at the fence as if to knock it down.

  “Hi!” Sarah hugged me when I arrived in the tutor room.

  “Hey.” Though surprised, I hugged her back.

  She sat me down. “So how was your weekend? Did you go out?”

  I stared at her. “Um, I didn’t really do anything.”

  She leaned back. “Really, why?”

  “Well, I couldn’t be bothered really. I don’t know many people.” By which I meant absolutely nobody.

  She shook her head. “But you should do something. I mean, you can. I had to stay here. We watched a DVD in Lyonesse.”

  “I’m sorry for being so boring. Next week I’ll try harder, I promise.”

  She shuffled closer. “If you need help, like, thinking of something fun to do, I’ll help. We could go shopping in Bath, or Taunton. Maybe to the cinema.” She looked at the ceiling. “Of course, if we came back late I’d probably have to stay at yours, if your parents wouldn’t mind.”

  I winced. Mum wouldn’t mind, but still it was never going to happen. If chatterbox Sarah learned my whole house could fit in one of my classmate’s horseboxes the rest of the school would know in hours. More importantly how was I going to get away with not correcting her use of ‘parents’?

  “Oh!” A thought flashed into my mind. “I got invited to the Camelot party, well kind of.”

  Her mouth and eyes transformed into three perfect circles of astonishment. “No! Can I see it? Show it me, show it me.”

  “I haven’t got it. I mean, I didn’t want it.”

  She grabbed my wrist. “You’re joking? They invited you and you turned them down? What are you doing instead?” She let go of my wrist and pointed at me. “Oh my God, you were tricking me before. You’ve got amazing stuff to do. Are you going to London? Do you have a boyfriend? Are you going back to London to see your boyfriend? It’s so unfair!”

  I laughed. “Calm down Sarah, it’s okay. I don’t have a boyfriend.” I couldn’t tell her how much the Four Horsemen had annoyed me, she thought they were amazing. Instead I imagined myself to be self-contained and private. “It’s just, I’m not really into parties and, I won’t know anybody there.” The idea of this Madeleine appealed to me. Serious, thoughtful, happy with her own company, she sent emails to friends in foreign countries and kept a diary. “Where’s a good place to buy a diary?”

  “What? What’s that got to do with it?”

  Mr. Vaughan arrived and Sarah gave me one last, frowning look before turning away. Mr Vaughan droned through the register and I quickly stopped thinking about the Four Horsemen. Instead, the long-legged, broad-shouldered shape of Eddy Moon filled my mind. Maybe he wasn’t the same as his arrogant foster-brother. Mum said he had a hard time, and the too-small clothes and hedge-trimmer haircut seemed to attest to that. Diary-writing Madeleine wouldn’t write him off. She would have been much more thoughtful and understanding. In fact, she probably wouldn’t have snapped at him in the first place. And if she did snap at him she would do the right thing.

  In the afternoon I headed towards history early, but sto
pped in the courtyard in front of the humanities block and dug my phone from my bag. I pretended to be sending a text while watching the pathways in both directions. Pippa and a couple of other classmates walked past.

  “Hi guys.” I smiled. “There in a minute. Tell Ms. Merrick I’m on my way.”

  They nodded and turned into the entrance. A minute later, I recognised the tall form that appeared through the doorway of the science block. I concentrated on my phone, estimated when he would be within range, and put it away. I hadn’t accounted for his long legs, and when I looked up he was right beside me. His tawny eyes scanned my face.

  I took a shaky breath. “Oh, hi Eddy.”

  He swept past me without saying anything.

  I had to trot to keep up with him. “I said, ‘Hi Eddy.’“ Still nothing. I persevered. “I wanted to say, I know I may have seemed rude the first lesson, and I’m sorry.”

  He took the steps two or three at a time, speeding away from me. His cheap-looking trousers exposed three inches of sock with each stride.

  “I’m sorry. I mean, you might not think it’s a big deal, but put yourself in my place, when it’s...”

  He disappeared into the classroom. How dare he? I apologised, not once, but twice, and he ignored me. He and his obnoxious brother were as bad as one another. Diary writing Madeleine was an idiot. I stormed into the classroom after him and slumped into my seat next to Pippa.

  “Hi.” She smiled at me. “Good weekend?”

  “Don’t ask,” I huffed and threw my bag on the floor.

  Ms. Merrick handed back our essays. “Nicely done, Madeleine,” she said, as she hurried past our desk. “Eddy,” she said, on the other side of the room. “This is exceptional work. I’m really very impressed by your creativity and your research. Your approach to the nature of leadership is original, and excellent.”

  Pippa and I gawped. I dropped my forehead to the desktop.

  “Einstein in tramp’s clothing,” Pippa whispered.

  I stomped from lesson to lesson for the rest of the day, then stormed through swim training. Again the swim coach called me aside at the end.

  “That was really strong, Bride. You’ve already caught up.”

  I smiled, my first of the day. Swimming was feeling easier and easier. Instead of being an obstacle the water seemed to get out of my way. The one thing I had been sure I would hate about going to Levels turned out to be the thing I liked the most. Maybe I would be Madeleine the jock. I had to choose a football team to follow.

  Cycling home, my mood continued to lift. The evening light shone low over the levels, turning lines of water to gold. At the weekend I would shop for sneakers. I hummed to myself as I approached the only bend, just before the slope to Glastonbury began. I rounded the turn, stopped humming and swerved my bike into the hedge. A black sports car barrelled down the wrong side of the narrow road, heading straight for me.

  Broken twigs scratched my legs and my heart pounded as I turned to stare after the departing car. To my surprise it screeched to a halt, then reversed back to me. It moved very quickly indeed, and when it reached me I recognised it as an Aston Martin Vantage, Hurley’s favourite car.

  A tall man in a black suit got out of the car and walked toward me. The swagger, the dark good looks, and the gleaming curly hair. Tiago Toscano.

  “Hey, new girl. You want a ride?”

  “Want a ride? Want a ride? You almost killed me, you idiot.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I get the car on these straight roads, I can’t resist putting my foot down.” He glanced at the road before hitting me with his smouldering dark eyes. “So new girl.”

  “My name’s Madeleine!”

  “I’m sorry Madeleine.” He looked me up and down, one side of his mouth lifted in a cocky smile. “Madeleine. Kieran invited you to a party.” He stepped closer and interest shone in his black eyes. “Maybe you were in a bad mood. Maybe now you reconsider?”

  “You think now the timing might be better?” I shook my head.

  Tiago Toscano ran his tongue along his perfect teeth. “Mad-ah-leine.” Though he was an idiot, my name in his accent sounded impossibly sexy. “Everybody likes our party. Is very special party.”

  I tilted my head to one side. I did like parties. Had always liked them. Maybe I had been a bit rash in turning down the first invitation of my Levels career. After all, being thoughtful and retiring had got me absolutely nowhere with Eddy. Diary writing Madeleine was a bust. Maybe I should be frivolous. I knew I had the dress for it, and how many times in my life would I be asked to a party by somebody as good looking as Tiago Toscano?

  I clicked my fingers. I could have my cake and eat it. Go to the party, and get back at them for being so rude on the poolside. “I might go. I might. But I still don’t want to go with Kieran. I’m sorry, he’s your friend.” I would go to the party on my terms, even if I made the terms up as I went along.

  Toscano nodded and leaned elegantly against the gleaming wing of the Aston Martin. “So?”

  “But if you invited me, that would be different.”

  “Ah.” He raised his eyebrows. It was possible the Four Horsemen had some kind of ‘all’s fair in love and war’ clause guiding their dealings with girls, but I doubted it. I also doubted they were the types to step aside in favour of a companion in arms. I was right. “Okay. I invite you. I send you an invitation to Logres.” Again the gleaming dark eyes assessed me slowly. “I pick you up from there. Wear something...”

  “I know.”

  “Good. You want a ride?”

  “What would I do with my bike?”

  He shrugged and directed his eyes toward the hedge. I supposed that if you drove an Aston Martin Vantage, leaving a bicycle by the side of the road was not a big deal.

  I shook my head. “I can’t do that.”

  He placed a hand on the door handle, then turned back. “What’s your number?”

  I told him as I got back on my bike. Raising a hand I placed a foot on a pedal. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I pushed off and accelerated away without looking back. Forgetting my scratches, I began humming again and even managed a cheery smile for the snarling, snapping dogs.

  The next day Tiago sent me seven text messages. Three of them came during the history lesson, when I sat trying not to look at Eddy Moon, across the room. In contrast, he seemed to have no trouble completely avoiding looking at me.

  The last one came in the evening, as I shopped for groceries with Mum. It asked me not to talk to anybody about our date, as he hadn’t told Kieran yet. I smirked as I wrote: ‘Ok. Hope I won’t 4get, v. big news U C.’

  Mum noticed my smile. “Funny message Maddie?”

  “Just silly really.” I took the shopping list from her hand. “If we get eggs I’ll make an omelette for dinner one evening.”

  The next morning Tiago sent me eight text messages. I ignored them all, except the one asking me to meet him in the car park. I found him there in his favourite pose, leaning against his car.

  “Hi.” I flashed him a plastic smile.

  “Bom dia, Mad-a-lena.”

  I gulped. He had an astonishing way of saying my name.

  He ran a finger along the gleaming paintwork. “You remember my car.”

  “Uh-huh.” He was still an idiot.

  “You want come for a ride?”

  “I’ve got an art lesson.”

  He shrugged. “So?”

  I bit my lip. Sitting in the passenger seat of the Aston Martin would be like being in a Bond film. I shook my head. In a Bond film, but besides the villain’s stupid henchman. “Um, is Eddy Moon a friend of yours?” What was I saying? Eddy had treated me like crap, but here I was, still trying to find out his back story.

  Tiago made a face, as if sipping corked champagne. “Him? No. He’s like Kieran’s servant or something.”

  “Kieran’s servant?”

  “He smells bad. I don’t think he wears cologne. Not even deodorant.”

  I stare
d at him, remembering Eddy’s smell, of cut grass and leather.

  “Oh.” Tiago raised a finger. “What cologne do you like? I get it, I wear it Saturday.”

  I bit back a snort of derision. “Really? No it’s okay. I, um, trust your expertise.” Being frivolous was more of a struggle than I had imagined.

  I met Pippa just before lunch and we queued up together in the dining hall. She wore cream jodhpurs and riding boots. I gestured at her legs. “Nice look. Special for lunchtime?”

  She giggled and nudged me. “Shut up Maddie. No, I’ve got riding practice next and getting all the stuff ready takes so long it’s only worth it if I get ready before lunch.”

  I nodded. “The things you do for the good of Levels College, eh? Oh God, what shall I have?”

  Lunch was a choice of beef bourguignon, Chinese chicken, salmon pasta and a couple of vegetarian options. After the greasy repetition of school food in London I was still getting used to the Levels luxury.

  “Go for the salmon.”

  I chose the beef and we sat together, as near to a corner as possible.

  I loaded meat onto my fork. “So how’s the riding going?”

  Pippa wrinkled her nose. “The horse people are like a whole world within Levels. They speak their own language, have completely different obsessions.”

  I pointed my fork at her. “Wear different clothes.”

  “Right. But even within that world, there are like different countries. There are the jumpers, like me.”

  “Bold and brave.”

  “Something like that. Then there’s the dressage-”

  “Which is?”

  “Getting your horse to walk sideways and spin in circles and stuff.” Pippa checked her watch as she stuffed food into her mouth. “Those riders are, if you ask me, mental. Then there’s the polo players.”

  “The Four Horsemen.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you know they’ve got four horses each? Four amazing horses of their own, each?”

  I shook my head.

  “Because of polo they’re all obsessed with strength training.” She shoved another forkful of food into her mouth and chewed frantically. “They work out all the time.”

  I remembered how they looked on the side of the pool. I believed her.

  “Right.” She clattered her fork down on her plate. “Really sorry sweetie, but I’ve got to go. Seriously, sometimes I think the instructor would like to whip me, as well as the horses.”

  “No worries. See you later. I’ll clear your plate away.”

  “Oh thanks Maddie, you’re the best.” She jogged away through the hall.

  After school I had my own sporting speciality, which was going far better than Pippa’s. Madeleine the jock skimmed through the water. The rhythms of my strokes felt as steady as a clock, and I relaxed into the repetition until it felt meditative, almost soothing. Standing on the poolside, wrapped in a towel, I flushed when coach gave me a double thumbs up.

  “Great work Bride. Seems like you’re getting a taste for our water.”

  “Thanks coach.”

  “Seriously, if you keep this up you’ll be in the team a lot sooner than we hoped.”

  I hummed as I cycled home, planning how I would make Mum an especially delicious omelette. There was no reason why omelettes should be seen as dull food. I was sure I could make an interesting omelette. I waved at the angry dogs behind their fence. They barked back at me, keeping pace through the garden they lived in. At the far end they reached the gate and as usual, hurled themselves against it.

  As I passed it the gate opened.

  The three dogs tumbled out onto the road. I stood up, leaning on the bicycle’s pedals as hard as I could and watching them over my shoulder. They righted themselves from a tangled heap. After sniffing around for a couple of seconds, first one, then the others, set off after me. As fast as I went, they caught me up. They bayed and I shouted for help. Just as I reached the turn where I had my encounter with Tiago Toscano, the leading hound caught me. It snapped at my ankle. I screamed and jerked the handlebars, sending the bike skidding into the hedge and myself falling off the side.

  Growling, the three dogs advanced. I scrabbled up the bank on my bottom, looking down at them and holding my bike between us as a flimsy defence. What was it about this bend? “Help!” What I wouldn’t give for Tiago Toscano to be testing the handling of his sports car now. “Get away.”

  The dogs seemed surprised in the change in circumstances. Barking at me through a fence was one thing, cornering me on the road, three hundred yards from home, was something else. They growled, but also glanced back at the gate they had broken through.

  The largest, a slavering black beast with the square head of a bulldog, lunged at me. I kicked out, he snarled. The other two gained confidence.

  “Help!” How I hated the countryside and its emptiness. “Help!”

  I began to cry. Two of the dogs pounced at once and I slipped a little, down the bank towards them. “Help!” I sobbed and vomit pushed at my throat.

  A deep shout rang from the field behind me. “Get off her!” The world went dark. A shadow arched across the sun. As I gasped I had a sudden, pungent lungful of stables and a massive shape soared over me, like a jumbo jet landing. A gigantic chestnut horse clattered onto the road beyond the dogs. They crouched, growling, turning away from me to face the horse.

  I recognised the enormous creature as a Shire horse, with feathery fringes of white hair around its hooves. From high up on its broad back, Eddy Moon shouted at the dogs again. “Get away!” His blond hair blew back from his face as he urged his steed forward.