I Hold Your Heart

by Karen Gregory

  Then, because I don’t know what else to do, I take a step forward and wrap my arms around him. It’s like hugging a stone. ‘Aaron, please … I’m sorry, I just didn’t think … it’s all part of telling the story of the song, that’s all. I love you … As you wish, remember?’

  Aaron pushes me back, not hard, but more holding me at arm’s-length, his eyes searching mine. After what feels like forever, something in his face softens a notch. ‘OK,’ he says.

  The relief that rushes through me then is so powerful it feels like I need something to hold me up, and as though he senses it, Aaron pulls me to him. He speaks to the top of my head. ‘You can see why I was worried though, right? After what I told you about Cherine, I thought you’d be more sensitive.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say.

  ‘It’s just … hard for me,’ he says.

  ‘Because of her?’ I don’t want to say that girl’s name.

  ‘Partly, but also …’ He takes a big breath and looks at me. ‘Listen, before all of that, back in London – I was …’ He breaks off.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Let’s just say Cherine wasn’t the only one to betray me. You try being dicked over by your own mother.’

  ‘What happened?’

  He winces, like it’s too painful to say and I don’t want to push. Then he kind of pulls me to him and I feel the need running all through that hug. So I hug him back just as tightly, and I’m telling myself I won’t be like those other people who have hurt him so badly. And as if he knows what I’m thinking, he says, ‘I know you’re different. I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.’

  We go into the refectory. Esi’s nowhere to be seen, but the rest of the gang is at the table.

  ‘Hey!’ Rachael waves us over.

  ‘You want to?’ I say to Aaron.

  He looks at the table and then back at me. It’s an expression I’ve started to recognise from the last couple of weeks. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ he says.

  Cal: You on your way over?

  Gemma: Sorry – something’s come up at home, can we rehearse at college tomorrow instead?

  Cal: Sure, no problem.

  Gemma: Thanks!

  Cal: xx

  I don’t send kisses back. I feel a bit bad cancelling on Cal, but after Aaron and I ‘made up’ at his, and then made up some more, we had a long chat. I guess I can see the Cal thing from Aaron’s point of view. I was being insensitive. I never thought how it comes across before. And then there was the audition and all the hugging and stuff. So it’s probably better if we rehearse all together in college when Aaron’s around, so he knows there’s nothing to worry about. I can’t believe what that girl, Cherine, did to him. And all the stuff you read online says relationships are about compromise, putting the other person first.

  It’s worth it when you’re in love.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Gemma

  It’s Friday morning. We’ve skipped out of college again and we’re lying on a rug on our beach, another one wrapped around us because the weather is getting colder by the day. I snuggle in to Aaron while he strokes my hair and we listen to the waves. Behind us is the cave, the one we went to what feels like an ocean of time ago, when I first realised I was falling for him.

  ‘I got a D for that Psychology essay,’ I say to Aaron.

  ‘The tutors are idiots,’ he says. He picks up a rock and I feel his body tense as he throws it out towards the sea. ‘Don’t tell me you want to go back?’

  ‘No, I’d rather spend the time with you.’

  It’s true, too. These times when it’s just the two of us, when we hold hands and look at the shapes of the clouds racing past in the sky, when he tells me all the things he loves about me, are like some magical world where only the two of us matter. Although I can’t help thinking about someone else too.

  ‘Do you think I should text Esi?’ I say.

  He raises himself up on one elbow to look down at me. ‘I think she needs to apologise to you. She’s being massively oversensitive.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You should stop worrying about people who don’t value you for who you are. Esi, your parents,’ he says. He takes hold of my hand. ‘It must be hard, knowing they love Michael more than you.’

  ‘What? That’s not—’

  ‘I know I don’t have a sibling, but I do know what it’s like to find out your own parents don’t really give a shit, or not enough of a shit about you. And it’s painful. But sometimes you have to be brave, you have to see what’s in front of you. Face it, you know?’ he says.

  I stare at him, then up along the beach to the dark cave, and there’s this sense that something is waiting for me in there.

  ‘It’s no good being in denial forever,’ Aaron says.

  Is that true? I wonder.

  But now Aaron’s said it, I can’t stop a whole series of images playing in my head: Dad cheering Michael from the touchline. Dad and Michael talking endless football in front of the TV. Mum washing Michael’s kit, making his food. When does anyone ask me what I want to eat? All those matches, week after week, and never once is it my turn.

  ‘Don’t get sad,’ Aaron whispers in my ear. ‘You’ve got me. I see how special you are.’

  He pulls me close to him again, blocking my view of the cave, until I stop shivering and lie still, listening to the sound of his heart and the crash of the waves. Then he’s moving away, getting something out of his bag. ‘Here. I have something for you.’ He presents it with a half-bow and a little flourish, like he’s trying to take the piss but not quite succeeding.

  It’s a sea-blue box with a white ribbon that can only have come from one place. I trace the lettering spelling TIFFANY & CO. with something approaching awe. I’ve never even been there, let alone thought I might wear something from Tiffany.

  ‘Are you going to open it?’ Aaron says, his usual crooked smile sliding away into a serious expression. When I do, there’s this stunning rose-gold infinity necklace inside.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I say, and it comes out kind of breathy because I’m pretty blown away.

  ‘Here.’ Aaron takes it out of the box and fastens it around my neck, then pulls me back into him so he’s cradling me from behind. We gaze out to sea, Aaron with one hand over the necklace which hangs under my collarbone, a few inches above my heart.

  ‘Look out there, at the waves,’ Aaron whispers in my ear. ‘They go on forever. That’s how much I love you.’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Aaron

  ‘All right, Weaver?’

  ‘I’m always all right, Jonno,’ I say.

  ‘Here.’ Jonny shoves up so I can sit down. I pull Gem on to my lap.

  She’s wearing the infinity necklace and I see Selina looking at it with an openly jealous gaze. Girls are hilarious sometimes. Gem spots it too; she fingers the necklace and I’m suddenly back on the beach with her. I tighten my arms around her waist and she leans her head back so it’s resting under my chin. And there’s Jonny, pretending not to look, me knowing he wants her too and how she’d never look at him.

  Times like these, I’m so proud I could straddle the world.

  ‘So when’s your next audition?’ Selina says to Gem. I feel her stiffen for a second, then she replies airily, ‘Oh that? I don’t know. Some time before Christmas?’

  ‘I guess you’ll have to do loads of rehearsing with Cal,’ Selina adds, with heavy emphasis on the word ‘rehearsing’. She glances at me, as if to gauge my reaction.

  ‘Ooh, bet he’d love to—’ Binners starts, before catching my eye.

  ‘Don’t be a dick,’ Gem says, and I squeeze her tight, whisper in her ear, ‘Bet Binners wishes he could find his,’ and she laughs loudly.

  Binners has got more bloody porn up on his phone and is waving it at Jonny, who barely bothers to look. Gem’s rolling her eyes at Selina.

  After I’ve walked Gem to her lesson, I slide, late, into a seat near the back of the Maths clas
s. Jonny and Binners are waiting with a smirk. As soon as the tutor’s set us some work and everyone gets going, Binners starts.

  ‘Saw you got your girl a necklace. Sweet. That must’ve cost a mint.’

  ‘Yeah, not to some of us,’ I say. I’m not telling them I put it on a credit card. I’ve been doing pretty well with money from in-app purchases on Crow Stealer and I’ve got a new game getting good feedback in beta. It’s not a Fortnite or a Candy Crush, but it’s progress.

  I don’t like the look Binners gives me. Especially not when he says, ‘She’s got you here,’ and mimes pushing his thumb down. Jonny laughs.

  There’s a small voice inside that knows they’re trying to get a reaction out of me, that’s telling me I don’t need to impress them, but there’s a larger part that can’t seem to help it. I have to prove … something. Why do I even hang around with these guys? Why am I still that kid inside, watching everyone else get the invites to parties?

  ‘Not sure it’s that way round,’ I say, striving for a light voice. Pretending I don’t care.

  ‘Whatever you like to tell yourself, mate.’ Jonny laughs.

  And I find myself suddenly saying, ‘She looked pretty good wearing nothing but that necklace the other day.’

  Jonny raises a pair of impressed eyebrows.

  ‘Pictures or it never happened,’ Binners says.

  And that’s when I do it. They were only meant for me, to have when she’s not with me. My eyes only. Gem’s not the sort of girl who’d want to do pictures, but I like having them, knowing I can see her whenever I want. She never knew I had my phone set up on the bedside cabinet. I’m going to delete them soon anyway so it’s fine.

  And now Binners is leering at me and Jonny has his eyes narrowed and I do it really fast, so it barely counts at all. I flash my phone in front of their eyes and smile. ‘Some of us don’t need porn, we’ve got the real thing,’ I add.

  ‘Looks like your missus needs a wax, mate,’ Jonny says. Binners starts laughing and I feel myself clench up inside, my fist itching to plant itself in their faces. But then Jonny whistles and says, ‘She’s fit though, I’ll give you that.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Gemma

  ‘Just hop up here then, my lovely.’ The woman’s wearing a white jacket, which makes me more nervous. I kind of wish Esi was here, even though I know exactly what she’d say. I’ve already lied and said I’m eighteen, just in case, and luckily for me they didn’t ask for ID.

  ‘So, if you just take your bottom half off and cover yourself up with this.’ She hands me a towel and goes out of the room.

  This isn’t a big deal. Definitely not. Loads and loads of girls get it done. Rachael, for one. Oh God, why didn’t I get Rachael to come with me? I guess part of it was embarrassment, like I didn’t want to let on to her I’ve never had a bikini wax before. Then again, I haven’t actually seen much of Rachael the last week or two. And I’m still not talking to Esi. Or she’s not talking to me, which is going to make our shift at the cafe tomorrow awkward.

  The aesthetician’s coming back in now.

  ‘So,’ she says as she starts putting on some gloves. ‘Your first time?’

  I nod. ‘My boyfriend got me a voucher.’

  ‘Uh-huh?’ she says.

  ‘Yeah, and I thought why not, you know?’ I say.

  Half an hour later, I know why not. Because it bloody hurts. And it’s super embarrassing. And did I mention it hurts? I should definitely not have worn such tight jeans. Everything feels pretty weird down there. But I hand over the voucher and find myself making another appointment for a few weeks’ time.

  As I’m leaving, a text pops up on my phone from Cal asking about when we’re going to rehearse again. We’re still not there with the third song, and after my chat with Aaron I’m wondering if I should just write a different duet. The one we’ve been working on – ‘Give’ – is pretty much a love story. It’s inspired by me and Aaron, but I don’t know if he’ll see it that way if I sing it with Cal. Finding the time to write something seems to be a problem too. I text Cal back and then go outside to wait for Aaron to pick me up, trying not to think about how much everything’s stinging down below.

  The next day’s Saturday. I’m washing up the breakfast stuff, humming snatches of something that might work, but it’s not coming as easily as it usually does. I’m still a bit, ahem, tender after the wax yesterday so I’m wearing loose harem pants. Michael’s already gone for his shower and Dad’s sitting in front of the TV in the other room while Mum wipes the table. She comes over with Michael’s empty porridge bowl as I’m running water into the pan she used to make his breakfast. Bits of porridge are already glued on to the sides. She slides Michael’s bowl into the sink, rinses her cloth out and goes back to wiping the table. I’m still humming as I pick the scourer back up, but then it’s like I get an echo of Aaron’s words: ‘Sounds like your whole family revolves around your brother. When’s it going to be your turn?’

  I stop humming.

  Then, very deliberately, I put the scourer down and step back from the sink. Mum comes up behind me. ‘You’ve missed these.’

  ‘I’m not doing them.’

  Mum stares at me.

  ‘Why should I? They’re Michael’s, not mine,’ I add.

  ‘Your brother has an away game today,’ Mum says.

  ‘So?’

  She stares at me again, like she’s totally at a loss for words, and I get this urge to laugh, or start screaming or something. It’s like she can’t even imagine why I might not want to be Michael’s goddam pot washer the whole time.

  ‘You know what? I’ve got stuff going on in my life too,’ I say.

  ‘Yes, I know, sweetheart, but—’

  ‘But what? I don’t matter as much as Michael? Is that it?’ I’m shouting now.

  ‘Hey, I’ll wash it up.’ It’s Michael, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. ‘No problem.’

  He goes over to the sink. Before any of us can say another word, Dad comes in. He takes in my red face, Mum holding the tea towel aloft like it’s her salvation, Michael sloshing water everywhere in the sink. ‘What’re you doing, son? We’re going to be late. Leave that.’

  ‘In a sec,’ Michael says. Which is not the best thing to say to Dad.

  ‘I said leave it!’ Dad yells. ‘You want to miss your coach?’

  Michael drops the scourer, gives me a guilty sort of smile and follows Dad out of the room.

  A moment later the front door bangs.

  ‘I’m not doing it,’ I say into the silence of the kitchen.

  ‘Fine. If you want to be selfish, go ahead.’ Mum plunges her hands into the water. So I do the only thing that’s reasonable under the circumstances: I storm out, slamming the kitchen door behind me. Then I grab my stuff and head out of the house.

  A few minutes later, Aaron meets me at the bottom of the track.

  ‘I can’t believe it. How didn’t I see it before? All those bloody bowls I’ve washed up …’ I’m ranting all the way to Aaron’s place. It’s not until he’s parked up and paused, hands still gripping the steering wheel, that I stop and say, ‘What’s up?’

  Aaron nods to the car I failed to see in the driveway. A sporty black soft-top that kind of hollers mid-life crisis. ‘Oh. Is that your—’

  ‘Dad’s,’ Aaron says and there’s a grim note in his voice.

  ‘Oh. Um. Well, we don’t have to go in …’ I begin, while at the same time wondering why Aaron doesn’t want to introduce me to his dad.

  You haven’t introduced him to your parents either, I tell myself. But that’s different. No way is Dad going to like me having a boyfriend, especially not one older than me. It’s easier if he doesn’t know, which means I can’t tell Mum either. They’re so wrapped up in Michael they’re not about to notice anyway.

  I resist the urge to pull down the sun visor and check my reflection in the mirror. I put on make-up this morning, I know I look good.

  ‘Come on
,’ Aaron says suddenly. He steps out of the car and comes around to open my door, holding out a hand to help me out. I love it when he does things like that; even if half the time it’s just in a joking way, it still makes me feel cherished. Aaron gives me his smile, the one that always works. ‘My lady. May I escort you from your carriage?’

  It feels like a while since he’s done that. I grin back and bat my eyelashes madly. ‘Why, thank you, kind sir,’ I say.

  Aaron laughs too, but his smile fades when he looks back at his dad’s car. He puts one hand tightly around my shoulders and steers me in through the front door.

  Inside it’s the same as always: spare decor, smattering of dirty dishes, one slowly dying spider plant in the corner. There’s a generic picture of something abstract over the table of the kitchen diner and a lot of gadgets. I have enough time to glance at the bulging leather bag on the floor before a balding man comes in and grins widely when he sees us. Well, me, really.

  ‘Ah, another one. You must be … ?’

  ‘This is Gemma,’ Aaron says, with a look at his dad like he wants to deck him.

  Another one?

  ‘Hi,’ I say weakly.

  ‘What happened to the blonde one? Selma or something?’

  Aaron gives his dad a blank stare, then pulls me closer to him. ‘You’re such a fucking comedian,’ he says, his voice flat.

  His dad lets out a loud laugh, like he doesn’t even care. I smile faintly, wondering what my dad would do if I swore at him like that. ‘Don’t mind me, just having a joke,’ Aaron’s dad says to me. ‘He’s too sensitive, always has been. Way too easy to wind up.’