Valentine

by Jodi McAlister

  ‘I shouldn’t have told her about the excursion thing. I’m sorry.’

  I can’t believe Phil is apologising to me about this now. This is messed up to the millionth degree.

  ‘Not your fault,’ I say. ‘Never your fault. Now tell me more about Julian. What is it about him that’s got you worried?’ And please don’t say that you haven’t been sleeping because he’s been dragging you along on his nocturnal missions for Them.

  She sighs. ‘He’s just . . . I don’t even know. Maybe it’s because this is my first relationship and I don’t know what to expect, but he’s being weird. And I know it’s about Marie, because they loved each other so freaking much, and – and how do I compete with that, you know? How do I compete with the ghost of a girlfriend who can never screw up again, because she’s dead? And no, don’t answer that, because I know that sounds terrible.’

  ‘Maybe he’s just not in the right emotional place for a relationship right now,’ I say.

  She looks at me sharply. ‘You think I should break up with him?’

  Yes. Yes, I do.

  ‘I can’t make any decisions for you,’ I say, ‘but if you feel like something’s wrong, and he won’t talk about it or even address it with you, do you really want to be wasting your emotional energy on him?’

  ‘He’s not just some random person, Pearl,’ she says, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. ‘He’s Julian. And I . . . well, I don’t know if I love him. I’m seventeen. I don’t know if I know how to love someone, or what that even means. But . . . he’s Julian.’

  I look at my poor best friend, who has never been good at expressing her emotions, and my heart breaks.

  ‘You know what you need?’ I say impulsively.

  ‘What do I need?’

  ‘You need to give yourself a night off,’ I say. ‘Come on. We’re going out.’

  She shakes her head. ‘Not a chance, Pearl.’

  ‘Come on. Disey’s at work, and I’m sure I can get Shad to let me out. You’re working too hard, and I need to get out of the house. And we won’t do anything crazy. We’ll go to dinner.’

  ‘I really do have to study.’

  ‘If you study too much you’ll make yourself crazy. Weren’t you listening to all those boring-arse lectures on the excursion? They told us that downtime is important for letting the brain recuperate, otherwise you’ll burn out and you won’t have room for any more information in there. Hey Shad?!’

  ‘What is it?’ he says, walking into the kitchen.

  ‘Can Phil and I go out to dinner? I know Disey doesn’t want me going out, but I’m going crazy locked up in here, and –’

  ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, Pearlie,’ he says. ‘You don’t need to argue your case with me. You’ve convinced me.’

  ‘Really?!’ That was easier than expected.

  ‘Actually, I’d prefer you went out tonight anyway,’ he says. ‘Disey’s working late and I’m going out with Helena, so I’d rather you were with Phil than here on your own.’

  I would bet my entire savings account that Disey has no idea about Shad’s plans with Helena. ‘Awesome,’ I say. ‘Thanks, Shad.’

  ‘But you be careful,’ he says, pointing a finger at me.

  ‘I’ll guard her with my life,’ Phil promises.

  ‘Where are you going to go?’ Shad asks. ‘Just in case.’

  I exchange a glance with Phil. ‘Well, if Phil’s all right with it,’ I say, ‘I was thinking the Saffron Room . . .’

  Yeah, yeah, I’m a terrible manipulative person, I know. But this house-arrest thing Disey has put me under has been really bad for all my defeating-evil plans. I need to talk to Finn. We’ve been Facebook-messaging and texting (yes, I finally managed to get his number) back and forth, and we’ve managed to work out some stuff – like, yes, he really is allergic to iron, as he found out when he snuck into the science lab at school and stuck his finger into a jar of iron filings. But I feel like ‘I think you’re a fairy’ is something I need to spring on him in person. So I can manage his reaction, if nothing else.

  ‘Oh, hello you!’ Jean-Paul says warmly when we walk into the restaurant. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘I’m good,’ I reply. ‘Much better now. Have you met my friend Phil?’

  ‘Hello, Phil,’ Jean-Paul says. ‘What can I do for you ladies tonight?’

  ‘Just dinner.’

  ‘Sure thing. Table six is all yours.’

  ‘Hey Phil, how about you go sit down – I just need to have a quick word with Jean-Paul,’ I suggest, in what I hope is a cool and unsuspicious manner.

  ‘Sure,’ Phil replies, and goes.

  ‘Is my favourite waiter here tonight?’ I ask Jean-Paul casually.

  ‘He sure is – want me to get him to do your table?’

  ‘That’d be great.’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to call your Mr Hunter, actually. I have a Friday-night slot open in about a month – are you interested?’

  ‘Very,’ I reply. If I’m still alive.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Phil asks as I sit down.

  ‘Just setting up my next gig,’ I reply. ‘Friday, four weeks time. Be there or be square.’

  ‘As if I’d miss it. It’ll be good to hear you sing again. Do you think Disey will let you out of the house?’

  ‘Fingers crossed she’ll have calmed down by then,’ I say.

  ‘Why is she so dead set on you staying at home, anyway?’ Phil asks. ‘I mean, she let you go on the excursion and all, so . . .’

  ‘I think – and this is not your fault, so please don’t go thinking that it is – that when you told her about me wandering around at night, it pushed all the wrong buttons,’ I say. ‘Before my mum died, she would go walkabout at night all the time. That was when Shad was off at uni, so Disey was looking after me and Mum on her own. Half the time she’d go to give her her pills or whatever, and she wouldn’t even be there, so . . . yeah. Bad memories, I think.’

  ‘That’s intense,’ Phil says. ‘Is Disey going to behead me for smuggling you out of the house?’

  ‘I think you’re safe,’ I say. ‘It’s Shad’s head I’m worried about.’

  ‘Water?

  He sets the bottle down on the table. He’s wearing a white shirt with a black waistcoat with The Saffron Room embroidered on the breast. His hair is scraped back from his face in a man-bun. All the hairs on my arms stand on end. ‘Hi Finn,’ I say.

  Stupid subconscious.

  ‘Hi Pearl,’ he replies. If he’s feeling any surprise or anything on seeing me here, he’s hiding it well. ‘Water. Have some. Are you ready to order?’

  ‘I – in a minute. Thanks,’ I say.

  ‘Oh, um – have a serviette,’ he says, shoving one under my hand.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Yeah, um – bye.’ He walks away.

  ‘What’s with him?’ Phil asks.

  ‘What? Oh, nothing. I bet it’s nothing. Who knows?’

  Phil raises her eyebrows. ‘What’s with you?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing,’ I say. I try to pour a glass of water but my hands are shaking so badly I end up spilling half the bottle on my lap. ‘Ah, crap.’

  I pick up the serviette and unfold it to blot the water away when I see the message. 11pm. JP’s office. Meet me there. F.

  One of the things that is good about Phil is that she is very, very loyal. I remember doing an exercise in a drama class one time where we talked about what animal we would be if we were animals. If she were an animal, Phil would be one of those lovable loyal dogs, like guide dogs or whatever. It’s one of the reasons she’s my best friend.

  Unfortunately, one of the things that is bad about Phil is that she is loyal even when you don’t want her to be.

  ‘Come on, Pearl, I ought to get you home,’ she says.

  ‘Not yet,’ I protest, glancing at my phone. Ten thirty. ‘Let’s get coffee.’

  ‘You won’t sleep.’

  ‘It’s Friday! And it’s not like I have an
ything better to do tomorrow than sleep.’

  ‘You might not – I have to study.’

  ‘Come on, Phil! One cup of coffee. One cup!’

  ‘Just one,’ she relents. ‘But then I am taking you home.’

  Okay. Time bought. But this is so not going to work.

  Surreptitiously, I unfold the serviette on my lap. It’s got a couple of chocolate stains, but I figure it’ll do. ‘So what’s the deal with Jenny?’ I say, blurting out the first thing that comes to my head as I furtively try to find a pen in my handbag. ‘I saw that she and Cardy are together now. What’s the goss there? How did that all happen?

  Phil purses her lips. ‘Are you sure you want to know?’

  ‘Yes, I am sure I want to know,’ I say firmly. My fingers close around something pen-shaped. It’s my eyeliner, but it’s just going to have to do.

  Can’t get away – I write.

  ‘I don’t know what I can tell you, really,’ Phil says. ‘I haven’t really been paying that much attention to her. We don’t really hang out. Since you’ve been away, I’ve been spending most of my time with Jules. But she seems nice enough.’

  – from Phil.

  ‘Apparently the whole confirmation aspect went down just after we all got back from Sydney,’ Phil says. ‘Tillie told me that they went to coffee together and after that . . . well, I guess it was on.’

  But I need –

  ‘And now they make out all the time. Seriously, I was in the library at lunch yesterday, trying to get some study done, and they were getting it on in the encyclopedia section. I don’t mind the occasional PDA, but they are all over each other. Today in English, we were doing group work together, and Jenny totally tried to play footsie with me thinking it was him. I was like, bitch, how big do you think my feet are if you can mistake me for a dude?’

  – to talk to you.

  ‘Pearl? Pearl?!’

  ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘Were you listening?’

  ‘Of course I was!’ I protest. ‘And yes, that’s so gross. Ugh.’

  ‘I know you had some kind of weird hate-on for her – and yes, it was weird, don’t even bother protesting – but I’m starting to understand where you were coming from,’ Phil says.

  ‘Coffee or anything?’ Finn asks.

  My heart beats faster. I feel like I’m in one of those gangster movies where someone’ll get killed if the cash doesn’t get passed to the mafia boss by midnight. ‘Cappuccino for me,’ I say, casually brushing my serviette off my lap onto Finn’s foot. ‘Phil?’

  ‘Latte, please.’

  ‘Sure.’ Finn scribbles our orders down on his pad. Pick it up, pick it up, I will him. ‘Is that all?’ he asks.

  ‘Pearl, you dropped your serviette,’ Phil says.

  ‘Oh, did I?’ I say.

  ‘I’ve got it,’ Finn says, picking it up. ‘Here you –’

  ‘I’m done with it,’ I say shortly.

  ‘Oh. Okay. Coffees coming up.’

  I am definitely ruling out femme fatale as a possible future occupation. All I can hope is that They do not have spies in the middle of the restaurant, because if they have half a brain they’d be able to see through my less-than-cunning ruse. I thank my stars that restaurants have an anti-animal policy.

  ‘So yeah, Cardy and Jenny,’ Phil says. ‘In short, pretty much disgustoid.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I agree.

  ‘Are you doing okay?’ Phil asks. ‘I mean, I know you . . . and Cardy . . . there were . . . feelings there.’

  ‘It’s kind of the least of my worries right now,’ I say honestly. ‘Besides, I don’t need boy issues of my own. I can live vicariously through yours.’

  She groans. ‘Did you have to remind me? In the midst of all this dramarama we have going on, I’m trying to find the nerve to ask Jules to come to one of my yiayia’s Sunday lunches, and . . . gah. It’s kind of weird that he met your family before he met mine, you know? Really says something about my priorities.’

  I scan the room for suspicious types as she keeps talking about the politics of introducing Julian to her extended family. I interject every so often with ‘don’t’, but phrased slightly more subtly. What does suspicious even look like? I’m assuming They don’t wear nametags or black hats or branded ‘I’m a magical murderer’ T-shirts.

  I look at my phone. Ten fifty. Sigh.

  ‘One latte,’ Finn says, sliding a drink in front of Phil, ‘and one cappuccino.’

  ‘Thanks, Finn,’ Phil says. ‘Anyway, so my yiayia has been gunning to meet him right since we started dating, but I know she’ll grill him about, like, marrying me and having ten children, so –’

  Finn takes my hand and pulls me up. ‘Finn –’ I begin, but he shoots me a warning look and I shut up.

  ‘– and then I’m worried that Pappou might actually punch him –’ Phil keeps talking, apparently to thin air. Around her, everyone else keeps eating and drinking, not paying any attention, as Finn leads me away.

  I feel like concrete has settled in the pit of my stomach. Phil looks like a clockwork doll that someone’s wound up, talking to nothing until she runs out of whir. ‘What did you do to her?’ I hiss.

  ‘Not here,’ he whispers.

  I shoot one last look back at Phil as Finn pulls me into the kitchen. God, Phil, I’m so sorry.

  I open my mouth to speak as soon as the door swings shut behind us, but he gets in first. ‘Stay in here,’ Finn tells me, pushing me into Jean-Paul’s office.

  ‘But –’

  ‘JP’s gone for the night. Just stay there and wait for me.’ He looks around furtively. ‘Maybe get under the desk.’

  ‘Under the desk?!’

  ‘Just do it!’

  He shuts the door and I stare after him in a huff for a moment before I remember that, oh yeah, something wants to kill me. I can’t see any black cats or birds or horses camouflaged in the woodwork but I get under the desk anyway and curl into a ball. Maybe there are black beetles hidden somewhere. Maybe all black animals are in the service of Them. Though that sounds kind of racist – FFS, shut up, Pearl!

  It’s only ten minutes before Finn comes back in – I know, because I’m staring at my phone the entire time – but it feels like ages. ‘Linford,’ he hisses from the doorway. ‘Come on.’

  ‘Not so fast,’ I whisper. ‘What did you do to Phil?’

  ‘Not now –’

  ‘Finn!’

  He exhales in exasperation and looks around hurriedly. ‘I made her think you were still there. Now she’s gone – she’ll think she’s dropped you home but she’s just gone straight back to her place. Okay?’

  I stare at him. ‘You can do that? You can mess with people’s minds? Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  ‘It’s not easy, but yes, I can. And I didn’t tell you because – damn it, Pearl, don’t give me that look, okay? You were the one that said we needed to talk.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to rewire my best friend’s brain!’

  ‘Linford. Not here. There’s something bad outside and it’s close and I need to concentrate if I’m going to sneak you out of here without anything following us, okay?’

  I subside. He looks around again and grabs my hand. ‘Follow me.’

  He pulls me out the back into the alley behind the shop. I open my mouth to speak, but he presses his finger to his lips so I close it again. I can feel every atom, every particle of my body. Every part of me is flooded with adrenaline.

  There’s a mew from behind a garbage bin. Before I know it, my back is against the wall and Finn is pressed against me, hands on either side of my head. ‘Don’t move,’ he whispers.

  I don’t even breathe. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.

  The cat mews again and walks into the dim pool of a streetlight. It’s black, eyes glittering as they catch the light. It turns its head this way and that in a very un-catlike way. It’s looking for us. No. Not us.

  Me.

  We stay
pressed up against the wall for a long time after it walks away. We’re so close together that I can feel Finn’s heart beating. It’s racing. Though probably not as fast as mine is.

  I’m ninety-nine per cent sure I had a dream like this once. Any second now, he’s going to trail his fingers down my body and hitch my leg around his waist and –

  ‘I think it’s gone,’ he says. ‘This way.’ He gestures with his head towards the car park.

  ‘Okay,’ I whisper back. ‘Let’s go.’

  We have another tense moment when a black cockatoo flies overhead, cawing, but we make it to his car without incident. ‘Lie down in the back,’ he whispers. He throws me his jacket. ‘Cover yourself with this.’

  I obey as he slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. His jacket smells like him. ‘Is it close?’ I ask. ‘The bad thing?’

  ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Very close. I think.’

  He starts the engine. He puts his hand on the back of the passenger seat as he looks over his shoulder to reverse, and – no Pearl, this is not the time and the place to be thinking about what nice arms he has.

  But he does. OMG. His arms . . . I can’t even.

  I’ve been in a few teenage boys’ cars before, and the floor has always been littered with junk – food wrappers, coke cans, papers. Finn’s isn’t. Who would have thought that a boy like him would have such a neat streak?

  ‘Are we being followed?’ I whisper.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he answers, ‘but I can’t be sure. Not yet. I have no idea how many eyes They have in this town, but I’d bet that most of them are looking for you right now.’

  Oh hell. Phil. If They are all looking at me, they’re going to be mighty surprised when she comes wandering out of the restaurant alone. And what if they take it out on her?

  ‘Where are we going?’ I ask.

  ‘Somewhere they’ll never think to look for you,’ he says. ‘I figure that’s the best way that we can talk without being overheard.’

  ‘We have to check on Phil first,’ I say.

  ‘No, Linford.’

  ‘Yes, Blacklin!’ I hiss. ‘She’s defenceless right now!’

  ‘And if they’re following her, we can’t go anywhere near her!’ he snaps. ‘Do you really want to give up the only opportunity we have to talk privately on the off-chance something bad might be happening to her?’