The Unlikely Heroics of Sam Holloway

by Rhys Thomas

  Her bare forearm was angled towards the window and through her top he could make out the curve of her breast. He shifted across the bed to get closer to her, his heart going crazy. She tilted her head inquisitively to one side and a line of light ran along the arm of her glasses. Her gaze danced across him. The world held its breath . . .

  And the bedroom door swung open and Kabe waltzed in.

  ‘Come on, you guys!’ he shouted. ‘I thought I’d find you in here. Everyone’s downstairs already. It’s Christmas Day!’

  He needed to make the move. He knew that now. All he needed was to get her on her own. The time would come, later that afternoon, or that night. You can do this, he told himself. There was a hubbub of activity in the kitchen as they got ready for Christmas lunch but his mind kept running back to the bedroom. What he would give to see inside her brain now, to know her thoughts.

  ‘You do it like this,’ she said, her face turned towards him, leaning over the pan and tossing the onions, garlic and bacon bits on the hob, acting like nothing had happened. ‘It’s all in the wrist. OK, how long have the sprouts been on?’

  Maybe it was normal to play it cool and he was just being overkeen. He checked the stopwatch app on his phone. ‘Two minutes forty.’

  The onions sizzled. Next to them Kristen removed a huge baking tray from the oven and the smell of mustard tingled in Sam’s nostrils. The ends of the parsnips were charred and hard and perfect.

  ‘OK, strain!’ said Sarah.

  Sam took the sprouts off the hob and poured them into a colander. The bacon in Sarah’s pan was browning nicely. He tipped the sprouts on top and Sarah mixed them in with the bacon and onions using a wooden spoon.

  ‘These are gonna be aces,’ she said. ‘You can hardly taste the sprouts at all.’

  Kabe thrust a long knife into the enormous turkey and when he removed it he placed it to his wrist, inspecting the pain of the heat.

  ‘It’s done,’ he announced.

  The French couple, Claude and Eloise, prepared the gravy, pouring in measures of cornflour with scientific precision, stirring and tasting as the other food was brought to the table. There were honeyed carrots and parsnips, Sarah’s sprouts, red cabbage braised with cider and apples, a Welsh mashed potato with leeks and cheese, a vegetable Wellington for Claude and Eloise and the other vegetarians, potatoes roasted in local goose fat, spiced apricot and sausage-meat stuffing, cranberry sauce from a nearby farmer’s market.

  Sarah was crammed in next to Sam. Their legs were touching and she made no effort to move away. Sam beheld the feast with a sense of joy. He was joyous. It drizzled through him, a sensation almost physical.

  When everybody was sitting down Kabe clinked his cracked wine glass with a fork.

  ‘OK, OK, OK,’ he said, as the others stopped talking. ‘I’m not big on speeches—’

  There was a collective groan.

  ‘OK, maybe I am big on speeches, but listen. I just want to say thanks to you all for coming.’

  As Kabe spoke Sam noticed Sarah’s hand on her thigh. His heart thumped. He lifted his own hand and touched her little finger and, for whatever reason, she curled it around his.

  ‘It’s really awesome how people keep coming to spend Christmas here and I just want you to know that, whatever happens, everybody will always be welcome, and I mean that.’

  Looking around the table, Sam watched the rapt faces.

  ‘I know the world’s a bit shitty at the moment but just remember this place, and today. All of you guys are nice people and, in the end, that’s what will matter. I think we all feel better when we’re doing something good instead of doing something bad and, you know, I think it’s easy to forget that sometimes. But it’s easy to see, if you look hard enough. Just look around this room.’

  Sarah tightened her little finger around Sam’s.

  ‘You know, it’s hard for me sometimes, not having my family near. It can get lonely. But sometimes, you realise family can mean lots of different things . . .’ Kabe trailed off and Sam felt his throat go dry.

  ‘Let’s eat!’ someone shouted, making the others laugh.

  Sam surreptitiously wiped the corners of his eyes and picked up his cutlery.

  ‘Yes!’ said Kabe. ‘But seriously. I really appreciate it.’

  A sensation of warmth blazed around the table.

  So the sudden disturbance in the room knocked the atmosphere weirdly off-kilter. People were turning, there was a gust of cold air in the kitchen, and a person was standing over the table.

  ‘Sarah,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I had to come.’

  Sam felt her finger unhook from his in a jerky motion. He looked up at the face and everything he’d just been feeling melted away to nothing.

  It was Francis.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  He helped with the dishes. The others still chatted happily, as if nothing was wrong. They didn’t seem to pick up on the extreme awkwardness that had crunched across the room with Francis’s arrival.

  He felt sick. In a way he blamed himself. He’d had countless chances and he’d been too scared to do anything about it. Kabe handed him a soapy pan, which he dried off with a towel and set on the countertop.

  ‘You OK, man?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m good,’ he said, adding nothing more.

  Kabe went back to the dishes.

  Were they kissing right now? Out there on the terrace, Francis’s perfect hair blowing in the breeze, the collar of his winter coat flapping as he tenderly touched the side of her face? He was telling her he loved her and he’d travelled across half the country to get to her. How could Sam compete with a gesture like that? He simply wasn’t the type of person who was capable of making those sweeping demonstrations of love, and he knew that was why she’d be better off with Francis. She was way too good for him and he reminded himself that she’d only invited him here because she felt sorry for him.

  ‘We’ll have fun later on,’ Kabe said to him. ‘Trust me.’ And he handed him another pan.

  The back door opened. Sam didn’t turn, he didn’t need to. He could feel their combined presence coming up the corridor into the kitchen.

  I’m so stupid, he told himself. I’m just so stupid.

  A gathering of starlings preparing to roost covered a quarter of the sky, moving in quantum patterns, their caws colliding and shattering into the woods below where Kabe and the others entered the rhododendron forest. It was mid-afternoon but the wood stole the light from the day.

  ‘There’s something special about this place,’ Kabe said to Sam, as he fell into step with him. ‘Something happens when you come here, when you spend time. It feels like, I don’t know, something gets restored. Can you feel it?’

  He’d felt it before, but he couldn’t feel it now. The sickness of dread was all he could feel now. It seemed strange that Kabe was talking so mystically when he was wheeling a BMX at his side, but then they’d all been drinking steadily since lunch.

  Directly in front of them Sarah walked with Francis; he was talking in a hushed voice Sam couldn’t hear. He’d been here for over an hour now and Sam still hadn’t managed to pluck up the courage to speak to them – and they hadn’t come to him, either.

  They picked their way along the stream that led towards the lake. The water leapt in rainbow shapes over the rocks. Sam just wanted to know what was happening. Why couldn’t he just say something?

  Along the nearside shore of the lake was a smooth, straight path. Geese made shock waves in the air as they hissed on to the surface of the water. At the water’s edge the path split and one fork led down to a large log that looked out over the lake.

  ‘This place is amazing in the summer,’ said Sarah, looking over her shoulder. ‘We should come back.’

  His shoe hit a stone embedded in the path when she said this, and he almost tripped. He just caught Francis’s eyes before they snapped away.

  There were about ten of them who’d come down to the lake. Kabe stopped and the others
gathered around him. They were at the edge of a small cliff, overlooking the water about ten feet below. ‘I thought of this the other day,’ he said to them. ‘It should work.’

  He adjusted the saddle of the bike, ratcheting it upwards, climbed on the BMX and, to everyone’s surprise, started pedalling along the track, back towards the water. Kabe had a strong, lithe body and got up a head of steam quickly.

  ‘Where’s he going?’ said the man in front of Sam.

  Swaying from side to side with each thrust, the sound of tyres zipping over the ground was loud in the cold air. As he came to the water’s edge Kabe turned sharply towards the log. The bike went down into the hollow, struck the log, which was elevated around five feet above the surface of the lake, and the mechanics of the situation saw Kabe propelled over the handlebars. He yelled something mid-air, arms swinging, body twisting as he slapped into the water with a loud and inelegant crash.

  Everyone burst into laughter and spontaneous applause as Kabe rose to the surface. In front of him Francis was doing a completely over-the-top clap.

  ‘It’s fucking freezing!’ Kabe cried, as he climbed on to dry land and trotted back up the path with the BMX. ‘OK, who’s next?’

  He had the type of personality that enthused people around him, a contagious, endearing, childlike recklessness that made him magnetic.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said Francis.

  ‘Good for you, Francis,’ said Kabe as the others started clapping.

  He pushed forward through the crowd to get to the bike but slipped in the mud, bumping into Sarah. Sam watched in slow motion as she stumbled and fell towards the cliff. She reached out to grab Francis and he lost his balance again, instinctively yanking his arm away and sending Sarah over the edge. Sam moved without thinking. Her body was already out over the water, at forty-five degrees, as Sam reached out and hooked his arm under her back, taking her whole weight. ‘Whoops,’ he found himself saying, apologetically. His core activated, his free arm grabbed an overhanging branch for support, and he stopped her mid-air, easily pulling her up and away from the edge.

  He set her down gently and could see the shock on her face at his strength. He felt like Clark Kent.

  ‘Sam, that was fucking awesome,’ someone said, breaking the weird silence of the moment.

  He could physically feel the perception of him changing across the group, just as he could feel her eyes on him. He met them, but she broke away and looked at the ground.

  ‘Did you see that?’ someone else said.

  Sam’s heart pumped hard, the blood thumping through him a drumbeat. His own strength had shocked him, but it shouldn’t have. He’d trained for this.

  After a beat, Francis turned to Kabe. ‘OK, here we go,’ he said, taking the BMX, trying to deflect attention away from what had happened, as if it was nothing.

  Francis climbed on to the bike, pushed his perfect hair away from his eyes, and stared at the log in the distance. Sam wondered if Sarah realised how Francis had pulled away from her. He sped off down the path. Kabe went into his pack and brought out a bottle of whisky, which he handed to Sam.

  ‘You deserve this,’ he said.

  Sam took a sip, hoping it might calm his adrenaline.

  Francis hit the log hard but as he went over the top his knees caught the handlebars and he was dragged straight down, head first into the lake.

  ‘Whoa!’

  There was a collective groaning sound and Sam couldn’t figure out why everyone was then falling about in hysterics.

  Standing next to him, Sarah was silent.

  ‘I’m OK!’ said Francis, resurfacing and clambering out.

  ‘Er, I don’t think I want to have a go at doing that,’ said Sam, trying to make light of the situation, looking down at his smart new Tesco clothes.

  She snapped out of her trance and smiled at him. ‘Sure you do,’ she said, grabbing the whisky off Kabe and taking a large slug. ‘You just need a bit of Dutch courage.’

  Over by the log someone took the BMX from Francis as he sat at the edge of the lake.

  ‘Sarah,’ said Sam. ‘What’s happening?’

  A robin landed on a branch above her head.

  She sighed. ‘He’s reckons he’s in love with me.’

  ‘Oh.’ His throat turned to sand. ‘He said that?’

  Sarah shrugged.

  Next up for the BMX was Kristen.

  ‘Be careful,’ Eloise warned her.

  ‘So what are you thinking?’ said Sam, wishing he could be a more confident person.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, you’ve been going on these nights out with him, so maybe he thought . . .’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to lead him on.’

  ‘No, of course not. So . . . you don’t like him?’

  ‘What do you think, Sam?’ she said, suddenly testy. She stared at him for a bit too long, and when Sam didn’t reply, she said, ‘Sure.’

  He watched the disappointment on her face.

  ‘Of course.’ She changed her tone. ‘He’s nice. He’s a good person.’

  There was the sound of splashing and everyone laughing again as Kristen went over the log.

  ‘He’s made a big effort to get here,’ she said.

  He wished he knew what to do, what to say. But he did. He knew exactly. So why couldn’t he just do it?

  ‘Sam.’

  Kabe was smiling at him. Somehow, the BMX was already back.

  ‘You having a go, bud?’

  ‘I think I’ll leave it for a second,’ he said, his mind clouding.

  ‘Give it here,’ said Sarah. ‘Hold this.’ And she passed Sam her phone.

  ‘You sure?’ he said, quietly to her.

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ she said, climbing on the BMX and holding her arm out. ‘Whisky,’ she demanded. She took a slug and set off down the track.

  Why was he always so pathetic? Why couldn’t he ever say what he was really thinking?

  Sarah got up a surprising speed. Something about her small frame on the BMX reminded him of how Kermit the Frog rides a bike.

  ‘Go on, Sarah!’ someone shouted.

  She veered off the track and Sam’s heart leapt into his mouth as she hit the log and flew over the handlebars into the air. Everyone gasped as, mid-flight, instead of putting her arms out to cushion the blow she tucked them behind her back. It was so dangerous it shocked Sam, gave Sarah a new angle. ‘My glasses!’ they heard her shout at the last second – she was still wearing then. As everybody else laughed, Sam felt a stab of fear as she face-planted the water.

  ‘She’s so funny,’ said Kabe, clapping Sam on the shoulder. ‘She deserves a great life.’

  Sam turned to Kabe. That was a weird thing to say.

  ‘After what happened,’ Kabe continued.

  The reeds behind Kabe swayed in the breeze.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Sarah resurfaced, pushing herself up, her glasses somehow still on her face, arms in the air with her fingers extended into the peace sign, making everyone cheer.

  ‘You know,’ said Kabe. ‘All that shit with Zac in Edinburgh, and everything after.’

  This was too much. Her ex?

  ‘Yeah,’ said Sam, watching her climb out of the lake absolutely drenched. Next to the water he noticed Francis watching the scene without any emotion on his face.

  This was of course the problem with awesome people, he was quickly understanding. Everybody else wanted to be with them too.

  Sitting on the saddle, Sam concentrated on the log.

  Kabe put his hand on his shoulder. ‘Just let go,’ he whispered into his ear.

  Sam pushed off and was on his way.

  ‘Go on, Sam!’

  Sarah’s voice sang into his brain. Well, they’d already seen that he was stronger than they thought; he decided to go for it. He went as fast as he could, ploughing towards the log, legs pumping, going so fast he almost lost control. He swerved off the path and towards the log.

  Just let
go.

  The force of forward momentum was like a great hand grabbing hold of him and dragging him up, up, up into the cold winter air, the water sinking away below him. He was flying. He knew how far everyone else had gone, and he was well beyond that.

  He heard the sound of cheering.

  The hand. It wasn’t dragging him into the air. He felt it now. It was dragging him into the future.

  As they filed up the lane back to the house, freezing and shivering, it was almost dark. The windows orange with candlelight, the slate roof indigo with moonbeams. And the sound of the piano in the drawing room drifting in and out on the freezing air, sliding crystallised across the molecules of winter.

  ‘It’s Claude,’ said Kabe.

  The piece was melancholic and beautiful. It made a sadness with its passages of minor runs that turned and melted major, blooming into a spreading joy, unstitching the fabric of the sadness and reforming it. Sarah and Francis were together again, at the rear of the group.

  It made Sam feel like, no matter what he did, he would never be happy.

  ‘He writes them himself,’ Kabe said of the music, his words barely audible.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘I think true beauty still has a lot to say in this world,’ said Kabe. ‘Or any other.’

  After his shower, Sam made his way along the corridor back to his room. It was freezing, the cold making his skin burn. A door opened and Sam jumped. It was Francis.

  ‘Oh,’ said Francis. ‘Sam.’

  There was a moment. This was the first time they’d spoken since he’d arrived, and the tension was immediate.

  ‘You’ve come here,’ Sam stated.

  ‘Listen, Sam,’ Francis said, ignoring him. ‘I think it’s great what Sarah’s doing for you but . . . you know . . . I’ve come all the way here, and it’s cost me a shit ton of money. Do you think you could, like, give us some space?’

  It felt like a little thundercloud floating above his head was rumbling. What Sarah was doing for him?

  ‘Just a few hours. You know how I feel about her.’

  What about what I feel for her? he thought. It was like being back at school, like he was a ghost, a side story.