by Lee Monroe
We need to leave as soon as possible, I told myself. I couldn’t hold a conversation with anyone my own age, let alone this vision.
‘We haven’t got much time,’ I told Dot, who narrowed her eyes.
‘We’ve only just got here,’ she said, kicking her legs out and catching Evan’s knee with her boot. He smiled gracefully.
‘I’ve got Maths, remember?’ I picked up the menu, to occupy my awkward hands.
Dot threw a look over at the Beautiful One.
‘Jane is home-schooled,’ she told him matter-of-factly.
‘You don’t go to school?’ he asked, and I was forced to engage with him.
‘Yeah…No…I used to…’ His mouth tilted into a half-smile, puzzled. ‘But – it’s a long story.’ I looked at Dot, willing her to keep her mouth shut, and her eyes grew big. But Eileen was setting down a cup and saucer and Dot’s milkshake, and my sister swivelled round to pick it up, taking a long, noisy slurp through the straw. I rolled my eyes and caught Evan’s and then we were both smiling.
‘You can tell me all about your secret past another time, then,’ he said, studying my face. ‘You look like a girl with a story to tell.’
‘Not me,’ I said. ‘Nothing much goes on in my life.’
Unlike yours, I wanted to add. But didn’t. Because I am socially retarded.
‘Eileen said you had family here?’ I said instead.
Evan picked up a napkin from the box and started folding it. ‘Yep,’ he said. ‘My dad. Bill Forrest and his family. I was living with my mum in Australia for a long time.’
As I tried to think of who Bill was – the surname seemed familiar – Evan’s fingers were moving quickly and my eyes fell on what he was doing. Origami?
‘I’m staying with Dad over the summer – maybe longer,’ he went on, and he looked up at me through his eyelashes, ‘if I can find something to keep me busy.’ He dropped his head again to concentrate on folding quickly. All of a sudden, there in his hands was a white, tissue swan.
‘Cool!’ said Dot, pushing away her drink and grabbing hold of it.
‘Dot, don’t break it,’ I said quickly. I looked at Evan. ‘You realise you have to teach her how to do that now?’
‘Any time,’ he said, winking at my sister. ‘Told you I need to make myself useful.’
‘Can you do odd jobs?’ asked Dot, putting the swan in her pocket before scraping the last of her shake out of her glass with a long spoon. ‘My dad needs someone for odd jobs.’
‘No he doesn’t,’ I said. ‘When did he say that?’
She shook her head. ‘I heard him telling Mum.’ She poked Evan’s arm. ‘How old are you?’
‘Eighteen,’ said Evan. ‘Just.’
‘It’s Jane’s birthday today,’ Dot told him proudly. ‘She’s sixteen.’
‘Is that right?’ I noticed his taut cheekbones and his eyes flicker over me subtly as a slow grin spread across his face. ‘Sweet sixteen.’
Before I had a chance to colour up, Eileen called from across the room.
‘Sixteen already.’ She shook her head and put two clean cups back on the shelf above the coffee machine. ‘I’m getting old.’ She smiled at the three of us. ‘You’ve got yourself a little party at least. Happy birthday.’
‘Thanks, Eileen.’ I took a sip of my drink, feeling Evan’s eyes on me.
‘So,’ he said, adding some sugar to his coffee. ‘What’s the birthday girl doing to celebrate?’
‘Oh, nothing.’ I finally looked across at him. ‘It’s no big deal.’
‘We’re playing Scrabble later,’ Dot said, fiddling with her straw. ‘And Mum will cook a special dinner.’
I nodded at Evan. ‘Sadly, she’s right. We don’t make a fuss in our house.’
‘What about your friends?’ Evan drank some coffee, not taking his eyes off me.
‘I …’
‘She doesn’t have any,’ Dot supplied. ‘She likes her own company.’
There was a small silence, as I fought the urge to strangle my sister.
Evan finished his coffee and smiled at me. ‘Well, I bet it’s excellent company,’ he said.
This time the blush crept into my cheeks and though I tried to smile back, I ended up grimacing weirdly.
‘I’m sure you could come for dinner,’ Dot told him. ‘Mum always makes too much food.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I said quickly, a little sharply. ‘He’s not interested in coming to dinner with a bunch of strangers.’
‘How do you know?’
Dot wouldn’t let up, so I shot her a warning look.
‘We’ve got to get going. It’ll take us half an hour and it’s uphill.’
Evan looked from one to the other of us. ‘Where do you two live anyway?’
‘Up the road—’ I began.
‘We live on the mountain,’ Dot interrupted me. ‘The house nearest the top. You can’t miss it.’
‘Come on.’ I dragged her off the stool and smiled tightly at Evan. ‘Nice meeting you. See you around.’
‘Hope so.’ He was staring at me, and as he lifted his head I noticed a small, faint, disc-shaped scar on one side of his neck. ‘I’ll be here tomorrow.’
‘Right.’
‘At the same time.’
‘OK.’ I started pushing Dot towards the door before she could answer on my behalf. ‘Bye, Eileen,’ I called, and she waved a cloth at me.
As we reached the door, I glanced back quickly to see Evan watching.
‘He’s cuuuuttte,’ said Dot, dancing about on the pavement.
‘Shut up.’
‘I don’t think he really noticed your weird dungarees either,’ she went on, tugging at them. ‘He was too desperately in love.’
I grunted and made to wallop her. ‘You’re insane, you know that.’
‘You should see him again,’ she said, ignoring me. ‘He’s very good-looking.’
‘Stop right there, Dorothea Jonas. It’s not your business and I’m not interested in having a boyfriend.’ I gave her a stern look. ‘Besides. He’s not someone Mum would approve of.’
‘Why?’ She frowned.
‘Because … because he’s been in trouble.’ I paused before deciding to go on. ‘He was in the paper apparently … He went missing in Australia and turned up here months later.’
‘He’s that boy!?’ Dot was saucer-eyed. ‘Dad was talking about him the other day. Mum went all soppy over it.’
‘Yup. So he must be pretty mixed-up.’
‘They’re the cute ones. That’s what Cassidy’s sister says. The mixed-up ones are always the ones girls want.’
‘Yeah, well,’ I said, rolling my eyes. ‘Cassidy’s sister doesn’t know everything.’
Dot gave me one of her shrewd, appraising looks.
‘By the way, we’re walking home,’ I said. ‘Or Mum will send out a search party.’
I’d read enough bad romances to know that boys flirt and it doesn’t mean a thing. And it was only a matter of time before Evan would find out that I was the freak around here. The girl who dressed like a boy and had no friends.
But as I wheeled the bike home, with Dot chattering to me perched on the saddle, I couldn’t help feeling that something had rolled away from in front of me.
Everything was a little brighter now.
CHAPTER THREE
I didn’t want to go to sleep that night. I couldn’t. Thoughts were tumbling around in my head, all mixed up. But I was also afraid of what I would dream. I was tired of waking every morning with a headache and the kind of fatigue I used to get on cross-country runs at school.
I propped myself up on pillows and watched the not-quite-full moon as it sat, serene, in the sky. A clear night, the tops of the trees just visible through the window. I shivered, realising that the window was slightly open, and got out of bed to shut it.
As I approached the ledge a sound – the sound of boots on snow – stopped me dead. Dad?
Putting one hand to my chest I tiptoed ove
r and reached out to pull the window closed, but before I could a voice came, clear, from outside.
‘Jane.’
Heart thumping, I leaned forward and looked down. He was there, dressed in a black coat, long enough to reach his ankles. Dark hair flopping over his face. He wasn’t exactly good-looking, he had more of an interesting face. Fine-boned, pale. Though even from this distance I could see his eyes were extraordinary, large and kind of almond-shaped. The colour was like moss on a pebble in a stream.
‘I came to find you today.’ His voice was surprisingly deep, assured.
‘You called my name,’ I heard myself say. ‘And then you disappeared.’
He smiled. ‘I saw your sister. I wanted to see you alone.’
I leaned further out of the window. ‘This is a dream too, then. It must be.’
‘Is it?’ He stepped back quietly. ‘How do you know?’
I gave a short laugh. ‘Because in my waking life I don’t get visited by strangers in the middle of the night.’
‘And what about today?’ he said. ‘When I called your name. Was that a dream?’
‘No.’ I bit my lip. ‘I don’t know. I could have imagined it.’
There was a silence. He regarded me seriously.
‘OK.’ Resting my elbows on the window ledge, I put my face in my hands. ‘There is something familiar about you.’
He laughed. ‘Tell me my name.’
‘Luca,’ I said without thinking.
‘See.’ He hugged himself. ‘You do know me.’
‘I don’t know how. Why is this happening?’
‘Don’t look for logical answers.’ He pushed his hands deeper in his pockets. ‘It won’t make sense, any of it. But it will, in time. You’ll see.’
‘Wait there.’ I stepped back from the window and grabbed my socks and boots and the thick woollen poncho that belonged to my grandmother. Passing the wardrobe mirror I grimaced at my bizarre reflection before moving to the staircase and down to the back door.
He was standing right in front of me when I opened it.
‘Nice poncho.’ He tugged at the fringe.
I stepped outside, pulling the door nearly shut behind me. ‘Look,’ I whispered. ‘I don’t know who you are. I just know I’m tired of dreaming about you.’ I glared at him. ‘I don’t need this.’
He said nothing, but leaned forward and put his arms around me, holding me gently in the moonlight. I didn’t try and stop him, or pull away. It felt right somehow. He smelled of wood, a little smoky. He was warm.
‘It’s so good to be with you at last,’ he said, his head resting against mine. Though I thought I should struggle or scream, I only felt soothed and comfortable. I let him hold me for a minute longer before putting my arms around him. He was slender but solid.
Luca leaned back and took my head in his hands. ‘Do you think you can stretch the boundaries of your reality?’
‘What?’
‘Well.’ He paused. ‘Imagine for a moment that the world you know is not the only one.’
I rolled my eyes, pulling away from him. ‘Listen, Gandalf, I’m not into parallel worlds and all that supernatural bullshit. If this is some kind of joke—’
I wondered suddenly whether this was some prank of Sarah’s. She must have been so bored this past year with no one to torment. Was this Stage Two of her plan to break me for good?
As we stood, something scratched at the door behind me and Bobby’s head pushed through my legs, sniffing at the ground. I put one hand down to stroke his silkiness but a rough predatory growl stopped me. Bobby was crouching back on his hind legs, staring up at Luca, snarling, teeth bared.
‘Easy.’ I bent to be level with the dog. ‘What’s up, boy?’ But Bobby continued to growl and he was shaking too.
I looked up at Luca, who had stepped back. ‘It’s OK,’ I told him. ‘He really won’t hurt you.’
‘He wants to,’ Luca said, wiping his face with his sleeve.
I rubbed the dog’s soft ears. ‘Bobby’s not like that. He’s a friendly dog, aren’t you, boy?’
‘No, I mean …’ Luca hesitated. ‘He can sense that I’m …’ He stopped, swallowing. ‘I’m not from here.’
‘Me and him both,’ I said dryly. ‘Because you’re not.’
Luca looked up at the sky, up at the almost-perfectly-round moon. ‘I want to tell you all about me, but you don’t trust me yet and it will sound … ridiculous,’ he said. ‘I wish there was more time. Tomorrow I …’
‘Tomorrow you what?’
I got to my feet and moved towards him, Bobby still whining behind me.
Luca reached out to take hold of my hands but then stopped, putting his back in his pockets. ‘You won’t understand. It will scare you.’
‘Like you’re not scaring me now?’
‘Is that really how you feel?’ he asked. ‘Scared?’
I realised I felt nothing but calm, which in itself was worrying.
‘No. This is just a dream. Like the others …’
‘Or does it feel as though it’s really happening?’ Luca stared at me, unblinking.
I held his eye.
‘It feels … real,’ I answered, eventually.
‘Then it is,’ he said simply. ‘That scratch on your face. You got that in a dream?’
I swallowed. I knew where I had got it.
‘You have nothing to fear. Not from me,’ he said softly. ‘I would never hurt you.’
‘I know,’ I whispered, because somehow I did.
And then I felt his lips on my forehead, the softest kiss, and the smell of him. It made me want to nestle against his body and I felt my own responding. I lifted my head to meet his lips, suddenly knowing what to do, and what I wanted, but he remained still, sad-eyed now.
‘We are friends,’ he said, touching the wound on my face. Then he took my hand and twined his fingers through mine.
I closed my eyes, weary all of a sudden and muddled.
‘Evan,’ I said, ‘what do you want?’
My eyes snapped open as Luca jerked away from me. When he spoke his voice was a little hostile.
‘Who’s Evan?’
The next day I felt shattered. I spent as long as I could lying in bed, before my mother’s angry clattering downstairs forced me to get up and dressed.
Another fashion triumph, I told myself as I studied my reflection in the wardrobe mirror. Combat trousers, so old the knee was ripped and the belt hooks had gone. A thick, striped, wool jumper my dad’s mum had knitted me before she died two years ago. And on my feet, the slipper-socks I’d got for Christmas last year.
My hair had grown long and was probably the best thing about me. I pulled it down, wondering what it would look like straight and sleek. I should actually start doing something about my appearance. Two mysterious boys had suddenly appeared on the scene. The least I could do was make myself more presentable.
‘Down here, now,’ came my mother’s voice, cranky and impatient. ‘This is not a doss-house.’
Dot gave me a warning look as I arrived in the kitchen, then, grabbing hold of Bobby’s collar, she disappeared out of the back door to see my father, who was working outside.
Mum’s eyes slid down to my snug jumper. ‘You should give that to Dot,’ she said, staring at my chest which, like my hair, had grown some over the past few months.
‘We need to get you some new clothes, you’re getting bigger.’ My mother flapped out a tea towel and folded it over the handle on the oven door. ‘A proper bra.’ She had her back to me, so didn’t see my eyes rolling up at the ceiling. ‘You need more than a vest these days.’
‘Fine,’ I said without interest. I pulled out a chair, pouring cereal into a bowl.
Mum stopped pottering and stood watching me as I ate.
‘You went outside last night again?’ She gripped the back of a chair with her hands. ‘I heard you, talking to yourself.’
I swallowed a mouthful of cereal before answering. ‘I don’t remember.’
My mother sat down opposite me. ‘It’s not good. It’s unsettling us all.’
‘Really?’ I hadn’t noticed Dot or my father being remotely bothered. Just her.
‘Do you not remember anything, Jane?’ she said, rubbing at a spot on the table. ‘Nothing at all?’
‘No,’ I said firmly. As if she would believe me if I did tell her. ‘Nothing.’
‘Look at you, you look exhausted. I think we need to take you to the doctor …’
‘There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s just a phase or something …’ I pushed my bowl away. ‘Why are you getting so worked up about it?’
‘I worry about you, sweetheart,’ she said, softly now. ‘You’re growing up, and things are changing – you know, with your body. Hormones …’ She trailed off awkwardly.
‘So, that’s the explanation. It’s just me being hormonal.’ I smiled falsely. ‘And then they’ll settle down and everything will be fine.’
‘Maybe.’ But her face was anxious. ‘Perhaps that is all it is.’
I glanced out of the window, hearing Dad and Dot chatting outside. ‘Am I free to go outside now?’ I asked in a dry tone. ‘Or will that upset you, too?’
‘Go on …’ She got up and watched me as I went to get my hiking boots from the hall.
As I opened the back door I glanced at her observing me, fearfully almost. And I felt a twinge of guilt. I was being a brat.
‘I’ll be fine, Mum,’ I told her softly. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Bobby, what is it with you?’ I said, pushing him off my lap as I sat in front of my computer. ‘You won’t leave me alone today.’
It was four in the afternoon and I had finally got down to homework, or ‘work’, since I didn’t actually go to school. I’d been assigned the Tudors as my History topic by my mother for this term. Normally I loved History, for me it was like escaping into another world, discovering a life I could hardly imagine. But today I wasn’t concentrating, even though I was desperate for a diversion. What had happened to me last night was, for the first time, clear in practically every detail. No wonder the antics of Henry and his poor wives had lost interest for me. My own life had taken on a whole new and unsettling dimension. I wondered briefly if I had some kind of mental disorder, something that had lain dormant for years until now. I was seeing things that weren’t there, imagining green-eyed boys singling me out for nocturnal visits. It would make sense, I thought, to invent a situation that would never happen. Never happen to me, anyway.