by Paige Toon
‘Now tell me about you!’ Lizzy insists. ‘Is that boy still on the scene?’
Nerves wash over me for some reason. I so want her to understand about him. ‘Joe?’ I try to sound breezy. ‘Yes.’
‘Am I going to meet him?’
‘I thought we might go to his pub tonight.’
‘Cool. As long as you two don’t snog each other’s faces off in front of me.’
‘Gross!’ I try to laugh.
‘I don’t want to feel like a gooseberry,’ she adds, and I can tell the thought has been worrying her. I’d be the same in her situation.
‘I promise you I won’t, and, anyway,’ I say, ‘his parents will be there.’
‘Well, hopefully there will be some hot boy talent for me.’
‘Hopefully!’ I reply, even though I haven’t seen any other nice guys so far. Then again, I’ve only had eyes for Joe so I can’t say I’ve been looking.
We go to the pub at six o’clock, after an early dinner with my mum. Dad had an important meeting this afternoon, so he won’t be here until nine, which is why Lizzy opted to catch the train rather than hitch a lift with him.
We decide to walk across the field to the pub and I’m surprised and slightly disturbed by how far it actually is. I can’t believe poor Joe has walked all this way to and from the cottage twice a day, not to mention the extra further distance to Dancing Ledge which we do together. No wonder he’s so fit . . . Oh, I so hope Lizzy agrees!
I’m wracked with tension by the time we arrive. We go inside to order, and he’s there, pulling a pint, at our end of the bar. He looks up and sees me and – POW! – that feeling again, like the very first time I saw him. Magnet . . . Metal . . . My heart cartwheels. He grins at me and then at Lizzy.
‘Hello,’ I say shyly, as we reach the bar.
‘Hi,’ he replies fondly. ‘You must be Lizzy?’ He smiles at her and I turn to see her nod. Is she . . . blushing?
‘Nice to meet you,’ she says.
I notice Joe’s dad at the other end of the bar serving another customer. He has his back to us. His mother is nowhere to be seen.
‘What are you drinking?’ Joe asks Lizzy, putting down one pint on the counter and pulling another.
‘Um . . .’
‘Cider?’ he asks me while she deliberates.
‘Yes, please.’
‘I’ll have one too,’ she says.
‘I’ll bring them out to you,’ he promises.
I reach inside my bag to get my purse.
‘Alice,’ he tuts, shaking his head.
‘Are you sure?’ I check, hesitating.
‘Of course.’ He frowns and hands the two pints to a waiting customer.
I smile and lead Lizzy out.
‘Oh. My. God,’ she says quietly.
‘What?’
‘He’s flipping gorgeous!’ she squeals under her breath.
I burst out laughing with delight.
Joe brings our drinks outside a few minutes later.
‘Sorry for the wait,’ he says, sitting down beside me. ‘It’s really busy tonight.’ He crosses his tanned arms on the table in front of him. He’s looking even more sexy than usual tonight, in black jeans and a grey T-shirt with a hot-pink surfer-style graphic on the front. He’s wearing a chunky watch with a worn brown leather strap on his wrist.
Lizzy was insistent that we make a bit of an effort with our own outfits tonight, even though I told her this is just a small village pub. We’ve both got dark-blue jeans on, and Lizzy is wearing a black chiffon top, while I’m wearing a red and pink one. We changed into our heels from our trainers once we reached the road. Lizzy has blue eyes and shoulder-length brown hair, and tonight she’s ironed her slight curl out of it so it’s dead straight. I wanted to keep the tousled look to my long, dark hair because Joe told me the other day how much he likes it. But she insisted on putting eye-shadow on me – a smidgen of greeny-gold.
‘How’s your mum feeling?’ Joe asks Lizzy, who, to my glee, is blushing again.
‘She’s a lot better, thank you,’ Lizzy replies.
‘Did you come into Wareham Station?’ he checks.
‘That’s right.’
He tries to make chit-chat with her, but she’s strangely lost for words.
‘I’d better get back to work,’ he says after a while.
He kisses me quickly before standing up. ‘I’ll come and see you again in a bit,’ he tells us both. ‘I’ll bring out some more drinks for you. Same again?’
‘Sure.’ We both nod. We haven’t even started on these ones yet.
He gets up and starts collecting empties.
Lizzy looks across the table at me and grins. I know she wants to talk to me about Joe, but she can’t until he’s back inside. I’m acutely aware of his presence around us – I can hear him clinking glasses together from the other side of the beer garden, and when my ears fail me I seem to have an innate sense of his whereabouts, even when he’s behind me. Finally Lizzy raises her eyebrows and leans in for the kill.
‘Is he a good kisser?’
‘Mmm.’ I try to keep a straight face.
‘On a scale of one to ten?’ she asks.
‘Off the scale.’
‘No!’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you . . .’
I know what’s coming.
‘No.’ I shake my head abruptly.
‘Okay.’ She seems to relax a bit. ‘But you really, really fancy him?’
‘Can’t you tell?’
‘Does he have a brother?’
I start to laugh, then remember that it’s not funny. ‘He does, actually.’
Her eyes light up.
‘But you’d never go there.’
‘Why not?’ she asks with a mixture of disappointment and curiosity.
‘He’s in jail.’
I explain to her about Ryan – what I know of him, anyway.
‘Joe doesn’t talk about him much.’
‘Too busy kissing you,’ Lizzy teases. I don’t deny it. ‘I hope you’re not going to do a Pippa on me,’ she adds jokily.
I try to laugh off her comment with a roll of my eyes. ‘Not likely,’ I reply.
‘Good,’ she says, laughing. But I know she’s worried. She’s worried about losing me, about us drifting apart, going in opposite directions . . . This is one relationship which she has no part of, and that’s unsettling.
We move onto the subject of Joe’s parents.
‘Is that his dad behind the bar?’ she asks.
‘Yes. I don’t know where his mum is – with a bit of luck, she’s upstairs for the night.’
‘I can’t believe she called you a cheat in front of everyone! Still, he’s worth it, right?’ Another grin, another raised eyebrow.
‘I bloody hope so.’
By ten thirty, my friend is fading, and we still have to walk home.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘These last few weeks have been exhausting.’
‘I know,’ I murmur with sympathy. ‘I feel so bad that you’ve had to go through all that.’
‘Fingers crossed the worst is over.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ I say, although I have no idea. ‘I’ll let Joe know we’re leaving.’
He’s popped out to see us every so often with drink refills, when he’s been able to escape unnoticed. I haven’t dared to go into the bar, even for a loo break, but now the alcohol is giving me some much-needed courage.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Lizzy decides, grabbing her bag.
We walk inside. To my dismay, Joe’s mother is now serving. Thankfully Joe sees us before she does. His wary look in her direction, however, doesn’t go unnoticed.
‘We’ve got to head off,’ I say.
‘I’ll walk you out.’ He motions to the door.
I turn and glance in his mum’s direction, and at that same moment she looks up and sees me. Her mouth is set in a hard, thin line. Permanently? Perhaps.
‘Can’t you stay a bi
t longer?’ Joe asks us when we get outside. ‘Then I could walk you back.’
‘Sorry,’ Lizzy interjects. ‘It’s my fault. I’m really tired, with everything that’s been going on recently . . .’
‘Of course, of course,’ Joe says quickly.
‘We’ll see you tomorrow?’ I ask hopefully. We agreed yesterday that he shouldn’t come to the cottage while Lizzy is there – three’s a crowd, and all that.
‘Definitely. Come over as early as you can.’
‘JOE!’
We turn to see his mum come around the corner of the pub.
‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ he says wearily.
‘You’ll be there right bloody now!’ she snaps.
‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ he says firmly.
The look on her face . . . Uh-oh.
She storms towards us. Joe steps in front of Lizzy and me, protectively. What the hell does he think she’s going to do?
‘Get your arse inside right this second!’ she hisses. She jabs her finger at Lizzy and me. ‘These two slags have taken up enough of your time tonight!’
Lizzy and I nearly fall over at her words.
‘MUM! I cannot believe you just said that!’ Joe shouts.
‘GET INSIDE!’ she bellows.
‘Go,’ I urge him, my hand on his arm. I don’t want him to lose his job – his only way out of here.
‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ he repeats through clenched teeth.
She backs away. ‘Just you wait until your father hears about this . . .’ Her tone sends a chill through me.
It’s only when she disappears around the corner that Joe turns to face us. I’ve never witnessed such a mixture of emotions on anyone’s face before. Anger, fear, anxiety, remorse . . .
‘You should have just gone,’ I say worriedly, sensing Lizzy’s shock beside me. I know she wants to be out of here, pronto, and to my utter dismay I know that neither of us will be coming back tomorrow.
‘I’m going to walk you home,’ Joe says suddenly.
‘No,’ I urge. ‘No. You should go back inside. Don’t make it worse!’ He hesitates. ‘Come and see me later?’ I suggest. This wasn’t the plan but I know he needs me, and Lizzy will be asleep, anyway. ‘Please,’ I press. ‘As soon as you finish. I’ll wait on the bench.’
He looks at me, his eyes glistening. He nods abruptly and squeezes my hand before letting it go.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say to Lizzy as soon as we’ve changed into our trainers and are stomping across the field to get as far away from the pub as possible. We’re both worried his lunatic of a mother will follow. Thankfully she doesn’t like dogs, otherwise she’d probably set Rottweilers on us.
‘I can’t believe that! What a bitch!’
‘I did warn you . . .’
‘Oh, God . . .’ Lizzy’s still in shock. ‘I know he’s gorgeous and all that, but Alice! His mother! How can you bear it?’
‘I don’t have to see much of her,’ I say. ‘He wants to get out of there.’
‘Where does he want to go?’
‘London.’
‘Not Cambridge?’
I hesitate. ‘No.’ At least, not that I know of . . . Although I have found myself dreaming recently.
This seems to pacify her somewhat, and I hate her for it.
Oh, God, I don’t hate her. I don’t mean it.
‘Please don’t say anything to my parents about tonight,’ I beg.
‘I won’t,’ she says crossly.
I have no fingernails left by the time Joe arrives at close to midnight.
‘I came as quickly as I could,’ he says reaching the gate, out of breath. I get up to meet him. ‘Dyson, stay there,’ he commands, coming inside and closing the gate behind him.
He engulfs me in his arms and holds me tight. I can feel his heart hammering hard inside his chest. I’ve been terrified he wouldn’t come.
I try to pull away, but he’s reluctant to let me go. I look up at him. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask, but he won’t meet my eyes. ‘Joe?’
He looks down at me and his eyes fill with tears. He gulps in a mouthful of air and I can tell he’s trying not to sob. He exhales, shakily. ‘It’s okay,’ I murmur, squeezing him tightly.
‘It’s not,’ he whispers. He pulls away. The look on his face is scaring me. ‘My brother gets out tomorrow.’
‘Out of jail?’
He nods, and then his anguish turns to bitterness. ‘My parents couldn’t even be bothered to tell me.’
‘But they told you tonight? What happened?’ I pull him to the bench and he sits down beside me.
It takes a long time for him to answer. ‘I was so angry with my mum for speaking to you like that. I told her I’d leave if she ever spoke to you like that again.’
‘What did she say?’
Pause. ‘She laughed at me.’
He’s not even angry about it. He’s just so hurt. I can feel his pain, because it’s mine too.
‘Then she told me Ryan would prefer my room to his, anyway.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I say after a while. ‘How could you not know this was going on?’
‘I hardly speak to them. I hardly ever see them,’ he admits. ‘We don’t talk when we’re working, and I’m out of the pub the second I can get away.’
It’s true, I’ve seen him practically every minute that he’s not working.
‘Is your dad here?’ he asks suddenly, looking back up at the dark cottage.
‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘He and Mum were already in bed by the time we got back. Lizzy’s asleep,’ I add, although I’m not sure if that’s true. I hope she can’t hear us. Our bedroom overlooks the front garden and is just metres away above our heads. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’
‘I don’t want to keep you up.’
‘Joe . . .’ I say tenderly.
We walk down the lane, passing the last few cottages. Dyson runs ahead of us and we can hear his nose sniffing and his paws padding further along the dirt track. There’s a full moon tonight, and the air is unnervingly still. We go through a gate into a field and sit down on the grass up against a dry stone wall. It feels better to be out here alone. Well, alone except for Dyson. But his presence is comforting. Joe looks past me, deep in thought.
‘What are you thinking about?’
He shakes his head abruptly. ‘Nothing.’
‘Tell me.’
Finally he answers. ‘I don’t want to go back.’ Pause. ‘But I have to.’
‘Do you really have to?’
‘My money is hidden under my mattress, for one.’
‘Don’t you have a bank account?’ I ask with a frown.
‘My parents don’t exactly do things by the book,’ he says with a wry smile. ‘They pay me in cash.’ His face hardens. ‘I can’t believe he’s coming back tomorrow. It’s been four years since I’ve seen him.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Twenty-six.’
‘Maybe he’s changed?’
‘No. No. He hasn’t changed.’
‘But you have.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asks.
‘You were only fourteen when you last saw him. You’ve grown a lot since then.’
‘He’ll still be bigger – and stronger – than me.’
‘Bloody hell, Joe, I don’t mean I want you to fight him!’
‘I’d kill him if he ever touched you.’
‘Stop it! Why would he touch me, anyway?’
‘To get at me.’
He pulls away roughly, as though the thought angers him too much to be near me.
‘What did he do to you?’ I ask carefully. ‘Did he used to beat you up?’
Nothing, and then he nods.
‘Often?’ I ask.
‘Once I ended up in hospital.’ I have to strain to hear him. ‘My parents told the police that I’d fallen downstairs. They threatened to leave me on the streets if I ever told anyone the truth.’
I gasp. ‘How old were you?’
>
‘Six.’
‘Six!’ My eyes widen with horror. ‘Six?’
He nods.
‘Oh, my God, Joe, that is awful.’
‘That wasn’t the first time he hurt me and my parents did nothing about it. Or the last,’ he says bitterly. ‘They don’t care about me.’
He’s said this once before, but I didn’t believe it then.
‘No wonder you want to get away . . .’
He turns to look at me. ‘The only thing keeping me here now is you,’ he says simply.
We kiss, gently at first, then more passionately as we fall back onto the grass. He hovers above me, supporting his own weight so he doesn’t crush me. His tongue explores my mouth and I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer, wanting him to be closer. I slide my hands up inside his T-shirt and drag my fingernails down his back. He gasps into my mouth and I feel him down there, hard and pressing into me.
I pull him in tighter. I want him so much . . .
His lips trail to my neck and his hand slides up my shirt to my breast.
‘I want you,’ I whisper urgently.
He moves away from my neck and kisses my lips again, gently.
‘I love you,’ I add, wondering if he heard me the first time.
‘I love you too.’
‘Did you hear me?’ I ask, unable to keep the worry from my voice.
He laughs quietly.
I release my grip on his legs.
‘I want you too, but Dyson is putting me off a bit.’
I glance to his left at Dyson, who is panting and watching us both intently while his tail thumps against the ground. I start to laugh too.
‘Plus, I don’t have anything.’
‘Anything?’
‘A condom.’
‘Oh.’ I instantly feel silly. I hadn’t thought about that. I know I should have, but in the heat of the moment it hadn’t even occurred to me.
We sit back up and he takes my hand. We both stare ahead at the moonlit field.
‘I’m a virgin,’ I blurt out.
He looks across at me and squeezes my hand. ‘Me too.’
‘You’re not,’ I say with widened eyes.
He nods. ‘I am.’
‘But . . . How?’
He laughs. ‘What do you mean, “how”?’
‘You’re so . . . good-looking! How can you have not shagged girls before?’