by Paige Toon
‘And I’ll have a vodka and cranberry!’ I chip in.
‘And a beer,’ he adds drily, passing me the water when it appears. ‘Just drink it,’ he says when I begin to protest.
‘I’m supposed to be letting my hair down,’ I say self-righteously. In fact, dammit, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I reach up and pull out the bobby pins, one by one, from my hair. It swings down into a ponytail. Nope. Don’t want that. I tug out my hair tie and shake out my blonde locks.
Toby watches with a raised eyebrow, then gets his money out to pay the bargirl. ‘Thanks.’ He takes a sip of his beer and nods at the water. ‘I don’t want you to throw up on me later. I’ve got enough on my plate.’
I humph, but do as he asks, gulping it down in one go. I slam the empty glass back on the bar top.
‘Come on, let’s go and watch the band,’ I say, hopping to my feet and heading towards the crowd with my vodka in hand.
Any cares I had about being recognised – or more likely, mistaken – have flown out of the window. I’m pissed as a newt and ready to enjoy myself!
‘Urgh,’ I say half an hour later when I’m hunched over a plant pot on the pavement.
‘This would be easier if you hadn’t let your hair down,’ Toby muses acerbically, as he scoops back my hair into a makeshift ponytail.
‘I don’t think I’m going to be sick,’ I tell him bravely, and he lets go of my hair as I straighten back up. I regard him with confusion. ‘Did we eat?’
‘No.’ He half laughs.
‘That was pretty stupid,’ I state.
‘Yeah. I guess. You want something?’
‘Maybe we should.’
We set off down the street. ‘How are you so sober?’ I grumble.
‘I’m not. I’m actually pretty drunk, just not in comparison to you.’
This gives me the giggles again.
‘You don’t get out much, do you?’ he asks.
‘No.’ I fall silent. ‘You’re hanging out with a loser. Congratulations.’
‘You’re not a loser,’ he says warmly, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. He’s so tall. And really very good-looking. Imagine what he’s going to be like in a few years’ time!
Hot. As. Hell.
‘Hey, how about a burger?’ he asks, distracting me from my wayward thoughts.
We come to a stop outside a restaurant called Roxy’s. The name sounds familiar, but I don’t know why.
And then I see her. But of course. Mum told me that Eliza works here.
‘No,’ I say, backing away.
‘Is that your sister?’ Toby asks with amazement, following the line of my sight.
I come to a standstill on the pavement. I’m still staring at her. She’s wearing a uniform: a red dress with a white apron, and her hair has been pulled up into a high ponytail. But despite the hairstyle she doesn’t look like Phoebe. She looks too thin to be Phoebe. But she’s still beautiful.
Even if I do say so myself.
I come to my senses, sobering up momentarily. Toby is still standing on the pavement, staring.
‘You know, if you were a bit older, you’d be completely her type.’
I don’t know why I just told him that.
‘Really?’ He raises one eyebrow, but doesn’t stop looking at her. He seems fascinated.
I turn and walk away.
‘Oi!’ he calls, running after me. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Home. I think I need my bed more than food at this moment.’
‘The Metro’s this way.’ He snatches my hand and tugs me to a stop.
In the same movement, I spin around to face him.
‘I like you, Toby,’ I find myself solemnly declaring. ‘You’re going to be a really good catch for someone one day.’
His dark eyes stare down at me. My stomach churns, but not from nausea. I suddenly feel very strange as I watch his eyebrows pull together. Then he breaks eye contact and stares over my head.
‘Come on, Rose,’ he says quietly. ‘Let’s get you home.’
Chapter 27
Eliza
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask with surprise when I finish my shift and come out of Roxy’s to see Angus’s Land Rover parked on double yellow lines. It’s eleven thirty, which is later than usual for a Monday night.
‘Can I give you a ride home?’ he asks through the open window. He sounds on edge.
‘Sure,’ I reply hesitantly, wondering if something is wrong.
He looks stressed as he reaches across the passenger seat and opens the door for me. I go around to the other side of the car and climb in, glancing at him. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’ He nods and starts up the ignition, pulling away from the kerb. Nerves pulse through me when I realise that we haven’t even kissed each other hello. Does he regret what happened between us? Is he going to be the one to end it this time?
When I left him this morning, I told him I was going to go to the graveyard. He didn’t take the news well. His lips formed a dead-straight line and he could barely look at me.
‘Is that really necessary?’ he asked.
‘I feel like I want to say something to her,’ I told him.
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know, Angus, but it’s nothing for you to be concerned about.’
He didn’t seem convinced, but he had to get into work so we bade each other farewell and that was the last I’ve heard or seen of him all day.
I wasn’t sure when we’d be able to hook up again. With my late-night shifts and his daytime ones, we’re not going to cross over a whole lot. Unless he comes out late like this and risks Rose getting suspicious... We’re going to have to tell her sooner or later. If we’re still together.
‘What are you thinking?’ Angus asks.
‘Nothing,’ I reply.
‘You just sighed. What were you sighing about?’
‘Rose,’ I reply quietly. ‘And us.’
I swivel in my seat to face him, studying his side profile in the street lamps as we pass. From light to shade, orange to black.
‘Do you have any regrets?’ I ask in a small voice.
He glances at me and then flicks his indicator on, pulling up on the kerb.
‘No,’ he says firmly. He kisses me gently, but my lips part and I breathe in sharply, wanting more. ‘Do you?’ he whispers, hovering just millimetres from my mouth. He doesn’t deepen the kiss like I’d like him to.
‘No.’
We drive the rest of the way in silence and the atmosphere is charged. Last night, when we had sex, we’d been drinking. Tonight we are both stone-cold sober.
‘Come up?’ I ask uncertainly when we arrive at my apartment.
We walk side by side into the building. I press the button for the lift, and he conducts his usual examination of the graffiti in the lobby, the incongruous stains on the lino and the flickering fluorescent light over our heads.
A few minutes later, we’re inside my apartment and I’m closing the door behind him.
‘Michelle’s staying at her boyfriend’s tonight,’ I say hesitantly.
He nods, taking my hands. We stand, staring at each other for a long moment. I still feel guilty. I can’t help it. I just hope it doesn’t eat me up.
I make the tiniest jerk of my head in the direction of my bedroom. He gives me the smallest nod in return.
We’re both uneasy as we stand at the foot of my bed. I slide my arms around his waist, my hands skimming over the taut body underneath his T-shirt. He used to swim to keep fit. I’m guessing he still does.
He’s so manly, so different to the boy I kissed almost a decade ago. And the way he was with me last night... That was very different from our heated fumblings as teenagers, too. But then I remember that the experience he has garnered over the years is down to Phoebe, and an unpleasant cold flush comes over me.
‘Wait,’ I whisper as his lips touch my jaw.
‘What’s wrong?
’
‘I can’t— I’m thinking.’
The look on his face as he steps away from me is one of weary resignation. He knew this was going to happen.
‘Come on,’ he says quietly, taking my hand and walking towards the door.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask, confused.
‘To the living room. We’re just going to talk.’
‘Really?’ I pull a face as I hurry after him.
He tugs me down to one of the sofas, bringing me close so I’m nestled against his body with his arms around my waist. I can’t see his face, but I can feel his chest vibrating as he speaks.
‘Maybe we should slow this down,’ he says gently. ‘I don’t want to screw it up.’
‘But we’ve already had sex,’ I say a touch indignantly, tensing under his fingers.
‘I know. We were drunk.’
I blush, and now I’m glad he’s not looking at me.
‘But the next time we go to bed together,’ he continues, ‘I think we should be sober, and we both need to be totally okay about it.’
Now the urge to look at him is too great. ‘Are you not okay with it?’ I’m suddenly fearful as I twist round to look at him.
He pushes a strand of hair back from my face, staring at my forehead instead of my eyes.
‘No, I can tell that you’re not.’ My voice wavers.
‘Not completely,’ he whispers, pulling me back against his chest. ‘But I will be. I promise I will be.’
By now there’s a lump in my throat. ‘It was too soon.’
‘Maybe. But it felt right. I don’t want you to have any regrets.’
‘I don’t,’ I reply. ‘Do you?’
‘Not at all,’ he replies firmly, drawing me tighter. ‘I’ve loved you for a long time.’
We both fall silent, but my mind is ticking over ten to the dozen.
Eventually I ask the question that’s on my lips. ‘How could you love Phoebe and me at the same time? I don’t understand.’
‘See, this is why we need to do this,’ he says as I turn to face him again. I edge away slightly from him on the sofa. He meets my gaze apprehensively. ‘There’s so much we haven’t talked about.’
I know he’s right. This is going to eat away at me if we don’t get it out in the open. Jealousy is an even more powerful emotion than guilt.
‘Phoebe and I got serious so quickly,’ he says, reaching over to take one of my hands. ‘It’s surprising, when I think about it in hindsight. Living next door to each other escalated things, but I was always curious about you.’
‘Not Rose?’
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘It was different with Rose. I liked her a lot, but I didn’t feel drawn to her in the same way that I did with you.’
‘You and I barely even spoke,’ I say with a frown. ‘Not until the evening that you threw that ball of paper into my room.’
He smiles.
‘I kept the piece of paper,’ I tell him.
‘Did you?’ he asks with surprise.
‘I put it in my diary, the one that Rose stole,’ I reveal bitterly. ‘Did you know that she read about what we did in the tree house?’
His eyebrows jump up. ‘No.’
‘We had a massive row about it.’
‘But surely you’ve forgiven her now, right?’ he asks, perplexed. ‘That can’t be why you’ve fallen out for so long?’
‘No,’ I reply with a sigh. ‘Rose and I have always rubbed each other up the wrong way. That argument was a long time coming. But now she just reminds me of Phoebe. It’s easier for us both if we stay away from each other.’
Angus gives me a dejected smile and squeezes my hand. I slide closer and rest my face against his chest as his arm comes around me. We stay like that for a long time.
Chapter 28
Rose
Holy Mother of God, my head!
Urgh, and my stomach...
I make it to the toilet in time to heave into it. Why do people do this to themselves? How the hell am I supposed to go to work today?
I’m an hour late by the time I make it in, donning dark sunglasses.
‘Afternoon,’ Toby says wryly, handing over a loaf of bread to a customer as the door swings shut behind me. I open it back up for the customer.
‘Don’t you be smart with me, young man,’ I berate him when we’re alone. I walk around behind the counter.
‘I’m back to being a young man, am I?’ He hooks his thumbs through his belt loops and regards me with amusement. ‘Last night I was older than my years,’ he teases.
‘Did I say that?’
‘Don’t you remember?’ His brow furrows.
‘I don’t remember much,’ I admit.
‘Shame,’ he says flippantly as he turns around to empty the coffee machine. ‘It was a good night.’
I pop my sunglasses on top of my head. ‘It was a good night, wasn’t it?’ I nod my head agreeably. The action makes it throb so I decide not to do that again.
‘Coffee?’ he asks.
‘Yes, please.’
‘How much water have you had to drink today?’ He glances over his shoulder at me.
‘Not much.’
‘Go and down a glass.’ He nods towards the bakery.
‘Aah, I remember now,’ I say good-naturedly. ‘You are older than your years!’
He shrugs. ‘My dad used to have a drinking problem.’
‘Oh.’ The humour leaves my face.
‘It’s not so bad any more,’ he explains. ‘But it still gets the better of him sometimes.’
‘Sorry. That sucks.’ I’m now lost for words.
‘Water,’ he says, nodding at the bakery door again.
I decide to just go ahead and follow his instructions.
Over the course of the morning, fragments of the night before start to slot into place. The first comes when I catch sight of the flier in my handbag. I remember the man behind the bar mistaking me for Eliza and me hiding away. Then I got chatted up by some random bloke, getting the giggles when he thought Toby and I were a couple. And I remember standing outside Eliza’s restaurant and telling Toby that she’d have the hots for him if he were a bit older. And then, oh God... What was it that I said? That I liked him and thought he’d be a really good catch for someone one day!
Argh!
A hot flush comes over me as I surreptitiously study him. I’m clearing a table in the café area and he’s standing behind the counter staring straight ahead. He looks like he’s in a bit of a daze, but then he glances over at me and I jolt to my senses, hastily getting on with clearing the table.
I acted very immaturely last night. For the rest of the day, I decide I’d better do my darndest to make up for it.
At four forty-five, our last customers have left. We close at five, but it’s unlikely anyone else will come in this late in the day.
‘You should go home and see your mother,’ I say, adopting a tone of authority. She came out of the hospital today. ‘I can lock up.’
‘No, I want to get the starter ready and prep tonight’s ingredients. Dad’ll be knackered.’
‘In that case, I’ll help,’ I say.
‘It’s alright. You look like you need your bed.’
I ignore him, heading into the bakery. A moment later, he joins me, looking confused at the sight of me putting on my apron instead of gathering my belongings.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks.
‘I’ll toast the nuts and seeds. You do the starter.’
He stares at me for a long moment. ‘I said I can manage.’
‘It’s fine.’ I flounce over to the cupboard and get out the stack of Tupperware containers containing the seeds, putting them on the counter and returning to retrieve the nuts.
I hear him sigh, but by the time I turn back around, he’s already getting the jar of ‘mother’ out of the fridge.
‘I don’t know how your dad bakes on his own every night,’ I say, as I sprinkle pumpkin seeds into one frying pan an
d poppy seeds into another. ‘I think I’m still recovering from last Friday night.’
‘Yeah, these next few weeks are going to be tough,’ he agrees heavily.
‘Maybe we should get someone else in,’ I suggest. ‘What are we going to do about the cakes?’
‘I don’t know, Rose,’ he snaps, sounding frustrated.
I stare at him with surprise. ‘Are you alright?’ I ask with concern.
‘Just... Quit mothering me. I don’t need it.’
I feel a little sick as I stare back at him. ‘I—’
‘You’re burning the seeds!’ He storms over to the hob and I flinch and jump out of his way as he switches off the gas. I roughly drag my apron over my head and dump it on the worktop, grabbing my bag on my way out the door.
‘ROSE!’ I hear him call after me, but I’m already gone.
‘Am I a mug?’ I ask Angus later. I’m sitting half in, half out of the balcony door, staring at the rain. He’s just walked in from work.
‘What are you talking about?’ he asks, coming over. He looks weary.
‘Do you think I am?’ I ask outright. ‘Dad always used to say I was a giver, not a taker. But did he just mean that I’m a mug?’
‘Of course not,’ he scoffs. ‘Being a good person doesn’t make you an idiot.’
‘Hmm,’ I say, looking back out at the rain.
‘What’s this about?’ he asks with a sigh, pulling up a chair and slumping into it. ‘What’s brought this on?’
‘Just something Toby said,’ I mumble. ‘I’ve been trying to help him, but I don’t know, maybe I’m overstepping the mark. I’m not sure he wants my help.’
‘Well, that makes him the mug,’ Angus says irately. ‘You going into work like that in the middle of the night. I still can’t believe you did that. He’s bloody lucky and if he doesn’t know it, then maybe I’ll go in there and tell him myself.’
This makes me smile.
‘You’re not a mug, Rosie,’ he says definitively. ‘Now, what have you cooked for my dinner?’
I whack him on his chest and he laughs.
‘Seriously, though,’ he says, getting to his feet and going to the fridge. ‘I don’t think we have much in. Shall we get a takeaway?’
‘Sure. I’ve got my appetite back now.’