Dead Silent

by Sharon Jones

  Michael seemed to hesitate before he leaned across her so that he was half lying on her and closed the laptop.

  ‘You shouldn’t do that, you should stop the programme,’ she said, disapprovingly.

  Michael grinned. ‘You’re always telling me off.’

  ‘Because you have no respect for technology.’

  As he rolled onto his back, he pulled her on top of him, kissing her. He tasted of toothpaste and…wanting? Did he want her as much as she wanted him?

  His hands slipped around her and stroked down her spine. He smiled.

  ‘Why, Miss Sinclair, I do believe you’re not wearing a bra.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Do you wear a bra to bed?’

  ‘Only on weekends.’

  Poppy laughed but she felt breathless and lightheaded.

  Michael spun them around. He sat up, straddling her legs, and pushed off the covers. He stared down at her, his eyes wide and questioning. Taking hold of her hands, he wove his fingers through hers, pressed them onto the pillows beside her head and leaned down and kissed her, gently at first, then more urgently. Whoa! So she wasn’t going to have to not ask twice, then? He’d always been so cautious before, but just recently the control had slipped and it was like she was seeing a different side of him. It was exciting and nerve-wracking all at the same time.

  She felt a tugging on her nightie. Michael grinned and shifted himself so he could pull it up around her hips. Oh! He was going to take it off. Suddenly she felt shy and not at all sure of anything. She grabbed the fabric and held it over her stomach.

  Michael stopped pushing. Then he leaned over and switched off the bedside lamp, plunging them into darkness.

  ‘Poppy, are you sure about this?’ he asked.

  Her heart was hammering so hard that she could barely speak. ‘I’m sure.’

  When he kissed her again, his lips were gentle, testing, as if he didn’t quite believe what she’d said. She slid her hands into his hair, deepening the kiss. Michael drew her to a sitting position and slowly slid the nightie off over her head.

  The chill of the room tickled over her chest and she felt goose bumps prickling her flesh. But then Michael was kissing her again and warmth flooded her skin, as though they had slipped into a hot bath. The familiar wave of wanting crashed over her, and for a time all the words disappeared from her head…until Michael’s hand strayed once more to her ticklish spot.

  ‘No!’ she squealed. She squirmed away from him and collapsed back onto the mattress. She felt the tremble of Michael’s laughter.

  ‘I can’t help it,’ she giggled.

  He shuffled down the bed and blew a raspberry on her stomach. She screamed and tried to push his head away.

  ‘Oh, that was too good, I’ll have to do it again,’ he threatened.

  ‘Don’t!’

  His hair tickled her stomach and she sat up trying to push him away. He was killing himself laughing and the sound of his laughter made her relax…a little. Two could play at that game! She sat up and made a grab for him but Michael caught hold of her hands.

  ‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ he warned. ‘You’ve never won at that game yet.’ He leaned down and nipped her shoulder. It was so unexpected that she gasped. She tried to wriggle away from him, but a hand swept down her back and didn’t stop when it reached her one remaining piece of clothing.

  As he untangled her underwear from her legs everything quickened…her breathing, her heartbeat.

  Suddenly Michael got up. She heard him moving things about. What the heck was he doing now?

  Poppy sat up and took the opportunity to grab one of the papery cotton sheets and pull it over herself. The fabric was cold and scratchy and only served to remind her that she was naked.

  That had happened fast.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, trying to see what he was up to.

  ‘Just getting something.’ He wandered back to the bed and put the something on the bedside table. The moonlight coming in around the curtains reflected against a silver foil packet. Oh…protection. She’d almost forgotten about that. That could have been disastrous.

  ‘Hoping to get lucky, were you?’ she asked, her throat tight again.

  Michael sat on the edge of the bed and leaned his hand on the other side of her.

  ‘Yeah,’ he replied, quietly. ‘I didn’t think it would be you, though.’

  Poppy gasped and pushed him. ‘You pig!’

  Michael laughed, lifted the sheet and crawled into the bed beside her. She had to roll onto her side to create room for him and ended up with her back pressed up against the cold wall.

  She wondered how many of these encounters these stones had seen over the centuries. She wondered if all those girls had felt the same heart-pounding, stomach-clenching mixture of fear, fascination, doubt and longing.

  Michael kissed her again, so intensely that she forgot about the wall, forgot everything. She even forgot she was naked until Michael was touching her in a place she’d never been touched before.

  ‘Bugger!’ she whispered.

  Michael laughed, hoarsely. ‘Told you I’d win at tickling.’ He kissed her gently on the lips and got up. He turned away from her and she heard the ripping of the foil packet.

  OK. This was it. She was actually going to have sex…with Michael.

  ‘Are you still there?’ Michael whispered.

  She heard herself reply, but wasn’t entirely sure what she’d said. Everything in her head sounded distorted…even Michael’s voice. The only thing she could hear clearly was the hammering of her own heart and the murmur of doubts whispering in her ear.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked, stroking her face.

  She was sure, wasn’t she? This was Michael. She loved him more than anyone in the world and this was what people who were in love did, right? ‘I want to.’ The words slipped past the objections.

  He kissed her again, and took up where he had left off. For a time she was lost in the sensation and fear and complete sensory overload. Her skin felt like it had developed a whole new set of nerve endings that zinged and tingled. His hands left hot trails wherever he touched. She was losing sense of herself, focused only on what he was doing. But it felt right – to be lost in him.

  Then he was on top of her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. Would it hurt? Everything with her and Michael had been going so well, what if sex spoiled it? What if she was no good at it? She had no idea what she was supposed to do. Every time Mum had tried talking to her she’d brushed her off. And now she wished she’d listened, or at least read a few more issues of Cosmo. What if the condom didn’t work? She could get pregnant like Mum had. That would be terrible for both of them, it would ruin everything…all their plans…and then he’d hate her. She could lose him. She could really lose him.

  The worries clogged her lungs like smoke, choking and suffocating her. She couldn’t breathe.

  ‘No…no…’ she said, pushing on Michael’s shoulder.

  She untangled her legs from his and leaped out of bed. Her heart pounded her ribs. She felt too exposed…too vulnerable.

  ‘Poppy?’ Michael was up too. He grabbed her hand. ‘What’s wrong, did I hurt you?’

  ‘No. I’m sorry. I just can’t.’

  ‘It’s OK.’ But he didn’t sound all right; his voice was gruff and strained.

  She pulled her hand out of his and scouted around in the darkness for her clothes. He touched her shoulder, awakening all the nerve endings that had gone to sleep the minute panic had hit. She spun around and Michael handed her the nightdress he’d not long removed.

  ‘Thanks,’ she whispered, and pulled it over her head. She yanked her hair out of the neck and began looking for the rest of her clothes. What the heck had he done with her pants?

  ‘So…what? We’re not going to talk, you’re just going to leave now?’ he asked, quietly.

  Poppy stopped the hunt for her underwear and turned to face him. She noted
he wasn’t getting dressed. She levelled her gaze at his face but she couldn’t see his eyes in the shadows, couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  ‘I thought you’d want me to go.’

  ‘No. I don’t want you to go! I want you to tell me what’s going on in your head. And if you can’t do that…well…we can watch the damned film. But I don’t want you to walk out and turn this into something bigger than it is.’

  He leaned down and snatched his boxers from the floor. As he sorted himself out she turned away and ran a hand over her face.

  This was horrible. Not at all how she’d imagined it.

  ‘Come back to bed,’ she heard him say.

  She really wanted to go back to her room so she could bash her head repeatedly against the wall, but then how would she face him in the morning?

  Michael had already got back into bed and pulled the covers over himself. She slipped in beside him. He tucked the duvet around her and hugged an arm over her stomach.

  For a while they lay there in silence. She wished he’d say something. She couldn’t hack silences, she’d prefer that he shouted…anything just to know what he was thinking. Seconds stretched into minutes, but felt like hours. She couldn’t take any more.

  ‘Are you angry with me?’ she whispered.

  ‘No.’

  Now who’d turned monosyllabic? ‘You sound angry.’

  ‘I’m confused. It’s different.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Shit, Poppy, you’re trembling. Stop apologising and tell me what happened.’

  She wrapped her arms around herself. He was right, she really was trembling. ‘I just… I… I got…’

  ‘Scared?’ Michael shifted until he had both of his arms wrapped around her and he could turn her to face him. He kissed her forehead and murmured, ‘It’s OK to be scared.’

  She felt sick with – what? Embarrassment? ‘God, I’m such a baby.’

  ‘Nahh.’

  ‘So much for feel the fear and do it anyway.’

  ‘You live in a house with too many self-help books.’

  Poppy snorted. ‘Maybe I should have read some of them.’

  ‘Your problem is—’

  ‘—I have just one problem?’

  ‘OK, your main problem is, you push yourself too much. You end up doing things that you don’t want to do.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Oh yeah? You want me to list the times I’ve seen you do it – tonight being a classic example?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You even did it at the fair the other week. You don’t like going upside down…it’s hardly a big deal, but because someone called you on it you did it anyway.’

  ‘It’s not the same. I wanted to…tonight.’ Poppy nestled her head into his shoulder. She had wanted to. She’d thought about nothing else for weeks. In school, at the cinema, every time he kissed her…so why had her mind gone into overdrive like that? On top of that, she’d ruined things the night before his flipping interview. Talk about rubbish timing.

  ‘You should sleep. It’s your interview tomorrow,’ she whispered, squeezing the arm he’d hugged around her. She couldn’t talk about this any more. Her head was too full of noise and thoughts about what they’d be doing right at that moment if she hadn’t backed out.

  ‘You sure you’re OK?’ Michael asked.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  He nuzzled his face against her hair. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  She didn’t say anything. She just lay there listening to Michael’s breathing and the noise of the storm howling through the ancient steeples and towers.

  ‘Morning.’

  A tickling sensation danced on Poppy’s cheek, tugging her into consciousness. She opened her eyes and stretched. The sight of the unfamiliar bedside lamp and Michael’s laptop disoriented her. For a second she wasn’t sure where she was, until she saw the empty condom packet, and the events of last night came flooding back. Slowly, she turned her head.

  Michael was propped up on his elbow. She examined his eyes for any sign of anger or resentment about last night, but they were as calm and blue as a clear winter sky.

  ‘I thought you were never going to wake up,’ he said, with a smile. Only then did she notice the blood pooling in his cheeks.

  An ache pulled at her shoulder. She tried to rub it away.

  ‘Stiff?’ Michael asked.

  Poppy nodded. ‘You?’

  Michael laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Poppy felt the heat rush to her own cheeks. She rolled onto her front and buried her face in the pillow.

  Michael rubbed her back. ‘I’m kidding. Ish. Come on, we need to get up if we’re going to have breakfast with your dad.’

  ‘And just when I thought life couldn’t get any more awkward,’ she mumbled into the pillow.

  ‘It’s just a couple of days.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ She glanced back up at him. ‘I’m sorry. About last night.’

  He shrugged, his lips twitched into a side-smile and he shook his head like she didn’t know what she was talking about. ‘Nothing to be sorry about.’ His hand travelled down her back and stopped where her nightdress had racked up around her bum. Bugger! She wasn’t wearing any pants!

  ‘Seriously, Poppy, you’d better get up before I get ideas again.’

  Poppy turned over, casually pulling down her nightie. ‘Maybe I want you to.’

  Michael leaned down and kissed her but his hand stayed very firmly on her waist.

  ‘Y’know, half the fun is the anticipation,’ he whispered. Suddenly he was up and taking the sheets with him.

  ‘Hey!’ Poppy gasped, half protesting his whispered promise and half the removal of her warm cocoon.

  ‘Up!’

  Reluctantly, Poppy dragged herself from the single bed that really wasn’t big enough for two people to sleep in, especially when one of them was Michael. She hunted around for the rest of her clothes and pulled them on.

  ‘I should go and shower,’ she said, zipping up her hoodie.

  ‘Yeah, sure, you go first. Give me a knock when you’re done?’

  She nodded, turned the lock on the door and opened it.

  ‘Hey, Poppy?’

  She stopped.

  She felt Michael close behind her, but she didn’t turn around.

  ‘We are OK, aren’t we?’ he asked

  ‘Yeah, of course.’

  ‘Just checking.’

  Poppy slipped out of the door and closed it behind her, wondering if they really were OK or whether her freak-out last night had damaged something. Before she had time to mull it over, movement caught her eye.

  Sitting in one of the battered brown armchairs, dressed in full vicar uniform, was Dad.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘Oh, hi. You’re here, that’s…great,’ Poppy said, words tripping over each other as they fell from her lips. ‘I was just making sure Michael was awake.’ She knew the burning in her cheeks was giving her away and she had no idea how long he had been sitting there.

  Dad blinked and looked away. He wasn’t even pretending to smile. ‘I came to say breakfast in an hour.’

  ‘Great. I’ll have a shower and then…’

  ‘That’s fine. I’ve got Morning Prayer. Why don’t you come and meet me at the chapel when you’re ready. Will you find it OK?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so.’

  He nodded, got up and turned to leave.

  ‘Dad?’

  He spun around. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. He swallowed, flipped his jacket back and rested his hands on his hips. ‘Poppy, I don’t think now is the time to talk about this. But later we are going to talk because you are only sixteen. Does your mum know about this? Are you on the pill? Didn’t anyone think to tell me you and Michael were seeing each other?’ He held his hand out to stop her answering, squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. ‘Later.’

  He turned and bolted.

&nb
sp; She felt sick. Dad didn’t know. That’s why he’d thought it OK to set them up in their own little Cambridge love nest. How could he not know that she and Michael were together? Surely she must have mentioned it last time he visited…or Mum? Hadn’t she said anything when she and Dad spoke on the phone?

  Behind her the door opened. ‘What was that?’

  She turned and, seeing her face, Michael frowned and reached for her hand. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Dad. He thinks we’re… Crap!’

  ‘Oh.’ Michael’s face drained of colour. ‘I’ll talk to him.’

  Poppy couldn’t help laughing at the thought of that scene. ‘Noooo! You are keeping out of the way until I’ve talked him down. You know what he’s like; he’ll go off the deep end. He’s probably already on the phone to the local convents to see if they’ve got a room for tonight.’

  Michael swore under his breath, bit his lip and shook his head.

  It was his interview today and as much as he was trying to appear calm about it, she knew he wasn’t. He was the only person from their school applying to Oxbridge and everyone knew it. If he didn’t get in, everyone would know that too. The last thing she wanted him worrying about was her dad. Poppy squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t worry. Focus on your interview. I’ll sort this out, I promise.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have to. It’s not like we did anything.’

  Something about the edge of anger in his voice made Poppy take a step back.

  Michael’s jaw fell slack. ‘I didn’t mean…’ He licked his lips and glanced away. ‘I just mean it seems a bit unfair for you to get done for something you didn’t do.’

  Somehow, the explanation felt worse, but she wasn’t sure why.

  She shrugged, feeling like a small child who’d been caught trying to walk in her mother’s high heels. ‘I’ll talk to him now. I’ll sort it out.’

  Morning had barely broken through the cloudbank but the storm had left behind a fresh blanket of white that hugged the roofs, chimneys and towers of the college that seemed to have got bigger overnight. Over by the main entrance, porters in bowler hats and overcoats chatted with a couple of students, their laughter echoing around the walls of the otherwise eerily silent courtyard. Poppy tripped down the steps into Great Court, past two girls returning from their morning run. They shot her a quick smile that she tried to return despite the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.