by Imogen Clark
I thought it over for a moment. Marlon was quite good fun, I supposed. And it was only for a couple of hours.
‘And it’s definitely not a date?’ I asked again.
‘Definitely not,’ replied Clio.
25
LEAH – NOW
I grabbed my bag and stepped out into the sunshine just as Marlon got out of the car and started walking towards the house. His skin was almost translucent in the bright light. How did he work outside and yet stay so pale? He was wearing a pair of jeans that looked like his grandma had bought them for him and a striped T-shirt that reminded me of Where’s Wally?
‘Surprise?’ he said tentatively when he got close enough. There was no sign of the goofy grin that I was used to seeing him pull. In fact, he looked as nervous as I felt.
‘Is this okay?’ he added, and I relaxed a bit. At least he seemed to recognise the awkwardness of this situation. I just nodded. There was no point making a fuss. We were where we were, and I just needed to get on with it. I could dig deep and spend a couple of hours with this bloke without it killing me, and I supposed he was kind of cute, in a quirky way.
‘And I already told you I like the seaside,’ he added, the grin creeping back.
‘Wave-jumping!’ shouted Noah from behind me, making me jump a foot in the air. I felt so stupid but Marlon, who luckily didn’t seem to have noticed, gave Noah a big thumbs-up sign with both hands.
‘Well, let’s go find some waves,’ I said, now desperate to get out of sight of the others before Clio started winking or anything else of an excruciating nature. ‘Have a great time at the cinema. See you back here later?’
Clio nodded and closed the door, but not before she’d given me another wink. Damn. I hoped Marlon didn’t see. Clio was enjoying this far too much for my liking.
‘So,’ I said, turning to Marlon, keen to show that I was taking control of the odd situation that we found ourselves in. ‘What do you want to do, apart from wave-jumping?’
Marlon shrugged. ‘I’m happy just to walk and talk if that suits you,’ he said.
It did. We strolled down the street the few short yards to the promenade and then stopped.
‘Lighthouse or castle?’ I asked him.
He turned to look left and right. You can see the lighthouse from there, small against the horizon. He pointed towards it and so we set off in that direction.
‘Let’s walk on the beach,’ I suggested, and we made our way down the sandy concrete steps.
The beach was busy with day-trippers and the pale sand was dotted with patches of colour. People had set themselves up for the duration with cold boxes, coloured windbreaks and stripy umbrellas, and children in varying states of undress scampered backwards and forwards between the water and their parents. The tide had turned and was on its way back in, but it would be a while before it reached its high-water mark.
‘Come here often?’ I asked as a joke, but Marlon seemed to take me seriously.
‘Not as often as I’d like,’ he said. ‘I never seem to make the time, and my mates are all married with kids these days. It’s difficult to find people to do things with. I could just come on my own, but I reckon the seaside is a place to visit in a gang. It can be a bit depressing on your own.’
Well, he was right about that, at least, but to say so would be giving away more than I wanted to share.
‘What’s it like working at the Hall?’ I asked.
‘I like it better in the winter,’ he said. ‘When we’re closed to visitors. They make such a mess. They pick the flowers and they steal cuttings when they think we’re not looking. Like we don’t see them hovering about with their little knives snipping bits off our plants.’ He made a little snipping movement with his finger and thumb and narrowed his eyes into slits. It made me laugh.
‘Why don’t you stop them?’ I asked him.
‘Lady H – that’s Clio’s mum – said to leave them to it. She says she’s got plenty of stock and there’s more than enough to share, which is all very nice, but it drives me potty. We just end up with lop-sided bushes!’
He laughed, and it was like he didn’t have a care in the world except his wonky foliage. Maybe he didn’t, I thought. Lucky sod.
‘And what are they like, Clio’s family?’ I asked, unable to resist the opportunity to find out more given that Clio rarely talked about them.
‘Lady H is a sweetheart. She’s really kind and thoughtful. You wouldn’t know that she’s aristocracy. There are no airs and graces, none of that. Mr Montgomery Smith seemed nice enough, too, although I didn’t really know him. I always got the feeling there was more to him than met the eye, but he was usually away with the orchestra or watching Formula One racing, so I barely saw him. The son’s a prat.’
I’d been staring steadfastly ahead as they walked, but now I turned to look at him.
‘Really? How do you mean?’
A powerful blush spread over Marlon’s freckly cheeks so that his skin clashed violently with his hair.
‘Oh, I probably shouldn’t say,’ he muttered. ‘Biting the hand that feeds me and all that.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ I said, nudging him gently in the ribs. ‘Who am I going to tell?’ I waved my arm in the general direction of all the anonymous people on the beach. ‘Go on, Marlon. Spill.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ve probably got him all wrong,’ he said, ‘but he likes to play the lord of the manor. Lady H is lovely and Clio . . .’ he smiled, and his nose crinkled. He was quite cute, I thought, if you looked beyond his ridiculous hair. ‘Well, you know her. She wouldn’t harm a fly. But Hector . . .’ His face darkened as he said the name. ‘I mean, I know his dad just died but still . . . He’s got no class, you know?’
I didn’t know. In fact, I had no idea what he was talking about. They all had class, surely? I shrugged and shook my head.
Marlon paused for a moment, like he was thinking how he could explain what he meant without being unnecessarily harsh.
‘He’s a bit flash,’ he continued. ‘I mean, they’re loaded and all that, but when you look at Lady H, well, you can see that she’s not stony broke, but you wouldn’t know she was loaded, either. Hector wears a Rolex, drives an Aston Martin, no doubt has a tailor in Savile Row. You get the picture? Not that there’s anything wrong with that,’ he added quickly. ‘He can spend his money on whatever he wants. He’s just a bit brazen with it. And on top of that, Lady H has handed the running of the estate over to him, which has just made him worse because now he thinks he’s the boss on top of everything else. He’s just . . . well, like I said, he’s a prat.’
‘It’s weird, isn’t it,’ I said thoughtfully, ‘how brothers and sisters can be brought up in exactly the same way, and then turn out totally different?’
Marlon nodded. ‘I’m nothing like my brother. I’m hot and he’s a worm.’
He grinned at me to show that he was joking. He wasn’t hot – not even vaguely – but he was sort of attractive, in an oddball, gingery kind of way.
‘I’m loving the modesty, too,’ I said with measured sarcasm.
‘Modest is my middle name,’ he said. ‘How about you? Are you like your siblings?’
‘I don’t have any,’ I said. ‘I was the apple of my parents’ eyes and they clearly felt that as I was so totally perfect, they didn’t need to make any more.’
I spun round on the spot, walking backwards in front of him, grinning and flicking my hair about. Then I stopped in my tracks. What on earth was I doing? Flirting with him? God, I’d been single way too long. I turned back around and faced forward, hoping that he couldn’t see the pink spreading across my chest and up my neck.
This part of the beach was strewn with seaweed and the revolting stench of rotting fish blew across us on the sea breeze. The seagulls called overhead, circling and then swooping down to pick at scraps from amongst the weed.
Marlon screwed his nose up. ‘It stinks here,’ he said, putting his hand over his mouth.
‘It
’s the tide wrack,’ I said, quickening my pace. ‘It’s the highest point the tide gets to. When I was a girl, we used to say that it was haunted by the ghosts of all the fish that had died in the ocean.’
‘Aw, that’s sweet,’ he said.
I assumed he was taking the piss, but when I looked at him his smile seemed genuine.
‘Well, what can I say?’ I said. ‘I was a cute kid.’
We walked beyond the wrack and the air freshened a little.
‘So, what do you do when you’re not working?’ I asked him.
‘Not much,’ he said. ‘I sketch a bit.’
‘Are you any good?’
‘Not bad. I was going to go to art school, but my Uncle Joe said I needed a job that paid, so I went to agricultural college instead.’
‘Do you regret it?’ I asked, surprising myself with my directness, but Marlon didn’t seem bothered.
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I probably wouldn’t make any money as an artist. This way I can eat and still draw whenever I like.’
‘Sounds fair enough,’ I said.
We reached the lighthouse. It stood on a little island joined to the beach by a stone causeway.
Marlon hesitated. ‘Have we got time to get across?’ he asked. ‘How fast does the tide come in?’
He looked out at the ocean warily. The waves were definitely closer, but I was a local. I wasn’t about to get caught out.
‘Yeah, we’re fine,’ I said. ‘There’s plenty of time to get there and back. Come on.’
He still seemed a little reluctant, so I grabbed his hand and began to pull him on to the stone path. He followed me. There was no reason to continue to hold his hand but oddly I found that I didn’t want to let it go. I did, though. I didn’t want him getting the wrong idea.
The causeway was quite narrow, so I led the way with Marlon following behind. I imagined that I could feel his eyes on me and I clenched the muscles in my bum as I walked, just in case.
‘Can you go up to the top?’ he asked, as we got closer.
‘Yes, usually,’ I said, but when we got to the door it was locked.
‘That’s a shame,’ said Marlon. ‘I love a lighthouse. What’s round here?’
He took me by the hand and led me round the base of the lighthouse until we stood at the furthest point from the beach. There was just the lighthouse on one side of us and the ocean on the other. I stood with my back against the white stuccoed wall.
‘I love the sea,’ I said. ‘I can’t imagine ever leaving it.’
I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the waves crashing on the rocks and the mournful cries of the gulls before they were snatched away from us by the wind. If there was a better place to be, I didn’t know where it was.
And then I felt something warm and delicate brush across my lips, like butterfly wings. My eyes pinged open. Marlon was standing very close, his face millimetres from mine.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t resist. You don’t mind, do you?’
I was very surprised to discover that I didn’t mind at all. I tilted my face towards his and closed my eyes again. Marlon, quickly getting that this was a green light, leant in and kissed me again. It was tentative, tender, as if he might bruise me with his lips. It was lovely. But oh, so clichéd! I nearly laughed out loud at the corniness of it all, what with the waves crashing and the gulls calling overhead, but I didn’t want him to stop so I held it in.
I don’t know how long we stood there, kissing like teenagers. Five minutes, ten?
And then,
‘Shit!’
I shoved him off me with so much force that he almost fell backwards. His face was all confusion and then hurt.
‘Sorry. Did I do something wrong?’ he asked.
‘The tide!’ I shouted, dodging past him. ‘We’re going to miss the bloody tide!’
I set off at a run, round the lighthouse and back to the causeway. I could hear Marlon stumbling after me.
‘Shit!’ he said when he saw the water.
The causeway was already underwater, the waves lapping over the stones. I started to panic. We just couldn’t get stuck here. I’d be a laughing stock.
‘We’ll have to run for it,’ I said, and then I set off, splashing through the water as fast as I could without falling.
‘I love an adventure,’ shouted Marlon after me.
‘Shut up and run!’ I screamed back. He was such an idiot. I liked it.
We made it to the mainland without drowning, which was good, but our feet and legs were soaked through and the rest of us was pretty damp. I was starting to feel cold already and my teeth began to chatter, although that was probably more from the shock than the temperature.
‘Oh, my God,’ I said when I had recovered enough to speak. ‘If we’d got stuck there I’d never have lived it down. Only the bloody tourists get themselves stranded at the lighthouse.’
‘Something must have distracted you,’ said Marlon. He was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.
‘Can’t think what?’ I replied, but I was grinning too.
When we were back on the mainland everything felt different. It was like the island had cast a corny lovers’ spell over us. I couldn’t quite believe that we’d been kissing, and for long enough to miss the tide.
‘We’d better get back before we freeze to death,’ I said, to take my mind off it. I couldn’t seem to look at him and he, reading the signals that I must have been giving off, stepped further away. It was as if we had never kissed at all.
26
LEAH – NOW
We walked back to the house as quickly as our wet clothing would allow. I was desperate not to be spotted, and as we raced along I tried to think of plausible excuses as to why we looked so bedraggled, but luckily we saw no one who knew me. The cold, wet denim stuck to my legs, chafing slightly as I moved, and my trainers squelched. I could feel a blister starting to rub on my heel. If this had been a date (which it absolutely hadn’t been, of course) then it had turned out pretty crummily. Even though it was warmer out of the wind my teeth were chattering, and Marlon’s pale skin seemed to be turning blue as he sidled along next to me. The kiss scampered between us, like a mischievous monkey.
‘So, tell me about Clio,’ I said to fill the awkward silence.
Marlon thought about his answer for a moment, rather than diving straight in.
‘She’s lost,’ he said finally. ‘I don’t mean because her dad just died. It’s more than that. She’s always been a bit lost.’
I thought I knew what he was getting at, but I wanted more from him.
‘Lost how?’ I asked.
‘It’s hard to explain,’ he said. ‘And I may be totally wide of the mark here. I mean, I don’t know her that well. I’m only staff, remember.’ He pulled a face that said ‘and that puts me somewhere just south of the peacocks in the pecking order’.
I was starting to see that there was far more to Marlon than just being a gardener. He had that self-deprecating humour that appealed to me, but he was also sharp and observant. I wondered if that came from the sketching thing. Maybe you had to see what others didn’t in order to sketch well?
‘It’s like she’s always searching for something,’ he continued. ‘But she has no idea what it is.’
Well, that rang true with what I knew of Clio so far. I thought of the speed with which she had offered me her friendship, those empty smiles in the photos on Facebook. I nodded to encourage him to keep talking.
‘I think, and this sounds a bit odd, but I think she feels guilty.’
‘Guilty about what?’ I asked.
‘The money,’ he replied with a shrug. ‘It doesn’t sit easy on her. She’s not a bit like her brother. I don’t mean she dresses in rags or anything, but it’s like she can’t quite get her head around it. Does that make any sense?’
I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I totally understood what he was getting at. Having no money worries didn’t sound that bad to me.
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br /> ‘She’s got no need to work,’ he continued, ‘but I think she’d really like a career. The trouble is, she doesn’t know what to do. No role model, you see. Lady H has obviously never had a job except for the estate itself. Her dad played the violin in that orchestra so that wasn’t like a proper job either. I think Clio just wants a normal life with a job and a standard house and a couple of kids, maybe.’
Just like me then, I thought. It was ironic, really. If Marlon was right, then Clio’s dream was what I saw as ordinary and humdrum. Maybe that was why she’d been so quick to befriend me? I wasn’t sure whether I liked that idea or not. Did she see me as a little pet? After all, I was out with Marlon, which was totally her doing. But actually I didn’t feel at all manipulated. Clio had arranged this, taken the kids out, all of it, because she thought I’d have a nice time. It was as simple as that. And she’d been right. I was really enjoying myself.
‘She’s lovely, though,’ added Marlon, and immediately confirmed exactly what I’d just been thinking. ‘Just like Lady H. It’s just that she’s a bit, well, lost.’
Finally, the end of my road came into view. The walk back had seemed so much longer than the walk to the lighthouse and I wasn’t sure how much further I could go in my soggy trainers. As we got closer to the house I saw that the Volvo wasn’t parked outside. Clio and the kids must still be at the pictures. I felt relieved. Was that because it meant that I could get into some dry clothes before Clio saw me, or because I’d got a bit more time with Marlon on my own? A bit of both, maybe? I’d enjoyed myself, chatting easily to someone who knew next to nothing about me, or at least about the person I’d been up until now. The kissing part had been quite nice too, I thought, and a little smile sneaked out.
‘What are you grinning about?’ asked Marlon, eyeing me suspiciously.
‘Nothing! Cup of tea?’
I fished the front door key out of my pocket and slid it into the lock. I checked my feelings. Was I happy letting Marlon into my house, and consequently my world? Well, it was a bit late to be worrying about that now. I had a feeling that Marlon was already there.