The Island of Dragons (Rockpools Book 4)

by Gregg Dunnett

  At about eight we all go out, to a pizza place. Amber comes along with one of the girls from her apartment, a girl called Susie, so there’s eight of us around the table. And it’s fun, in a kind of ordinary way. It’s fun to recount the story of the rat’s nest to Amber and Susie, who are both horrified. Then Jimbo talks about hockey club, and all the drinking they do, and Guy tries to flirt with Amber, who isn’t having any of it. I talk to Sarah a bit, and decide she’d be nice if I wasn’t more interested in Lily. But to be honest, the whole evening has that high-school feel I talked about before, only it’s not quite, it’s like we’re all morphing from being just high-school students, into something a bit more grown-up, but it’s like we’re still playing at it, rather than it being who we really are. It’s still not quite what I dreamed about when I thought of going to college.

  Afterwards we work out the bill so that everyone pays for what they had, and then we go on to a bar. It’s super crowded and we kind of all stand together, drinking and not able to say too much because it’s so loud, but the same sort of things happen, and after an hour of that Susie goes home, and I’m about to as well, until Jimbo starts hassling for us to go to a club. I’m not going to, but Amber says yes, so we go to one that’s supposed to be really awesome, but really it’s a bit mixed. First we have to line up outside for a half hour, and when we get to the front they complain about my shoes, which are perfectly sensible waterproof walking shoes, and not sneakers at all, like the man suggests. It’s Amber who gets him to let us in (it cost twenty dollars mind), and inside it’s so loud you can’t speak at all. Jimbo and Guy buy drinks and stand by the bar but the girls dance. I’m not sure who to join, until Amber grabs me and leads me onto the dance floor. I’m not much of a dancer usually, but she’s good at making me relax – or maybe it’s the beer. Anyway, after a few minutes of feeling a bit self-conscious, I forget about people watching, and just do what Amber does. And Sarah too. And for about an hour we’re just there, laughing and bouncing and jigging around, as the place fills up around us.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning is fun too. I get up, and I have a bit of a headache, but not too bad, and I get the feeling everyone else feels the same. The kitchen is only a little bit messy from the night before (we don’t know who, but someone had a go at making a toasted sandwich when we got in last night, Sarah jokes it might have been the rats), but we clean it up and the girls make brunch for everybody. I have to write an actual essay, and I do so in my room, but with the door open, so I can hear the music that Guy is playing. It’s kind of how I imagined college to be, at least a little bit.

  But in a way, the little interlude is a high spot. The next day I have a tutorial, with Lawrence, and it’s boring. I get annoyed at him because the work is too easy, and he gets annoyed at me for answering all the questions, but honestly if I don’t, how are we supposed to move on? And two days later, the kitchen doesn’t look too different to how it did before we cleaned it up. OK, there’s no trash corner, we’ve learned that lesson, but I’m still the only one doing the washing up. And I’m not doing it for everyone.

  So when I get a text from Lily I guess I’m excited. She simply tells me an address, and to come at eight. I look up the address on Google, and it looks like an apartment in one of the typical brownstone houses around here, although from the cars outside you can tell it’s in the expensive part of the city. But I don’t really know what to expect. I don’t know what to wear, nor whether we’re eating at the house, or going out, or anything.

  I decide to walk there, in the hope it’ll calm my nerves. And because I haven’t really figured out the subway yet.

  The apartment looks more impressive in real life than it looks on Google Earth, but I tell myself not to be intimidated and knock on the door. It takes ages for anyone to answer it, but when it opens it’s Jennifer. She’s dressed quite relaxed, in black leggings and a kind of chunky green jumper, but once again, she looks stunning in it, and it’s nice to see how she greets me – I get a hug and a kiss on both cheeks, and I feel enveloped in her perfume, which kind of pulls me into the house.

  “Billy – you came!” she says. “Come into the kitchen with us girls, ignore those stupid boys.” She directs the last comment into a room on her left – I can’t see inside, and takes my hand. I follow along, as if pulled by the scent from her hair, but I can’t help also noticing that the lobby here isn’t what I expected. I thought I was coming into a building divided up into lots of different apartments but it seems that Lily has the whole floor – that’s assuming it is actually Lily who lives here. And the decoration is amazing, it’s like being in a museum. The hallway is packed with antique-looking furniture and there are wooden panels on the walls, and actual oil paintings too. Hanging from the ceiling is an actual chandelier. I gaze around as Jennifer leads me along, and then through a door and into a kitchen. But it’s not a normal kitchen. It’s bigger than my whole apartment, even all the bedrooms. The decoration is similar to the hallway, just even more so. I only expect to see Lily, but Eric is also there. He’s sitting on the worktop with his feet up, wearing a bright blue silk shirt.

  “Billy will help us settle this,” he says, as if I’ve been there for ages and just wandered back into the room. “The lovely Lily and I are arguing about the need for effective gun control in this country. I believe we need to ban all firearms, with the exception of those used where it’s absolutely necessary to control wildlife populations. But Lily here wants to gradually phase them out, though she gives no details how that works in practice.”

  He talks really quickly, and as he does so he swings his legs down and, to my surprise, embraces me just as Jennifer did, including the kisses that are nearly but not quite on the cheek. But whatever he does, or says, it can’t compete with how Lily looks. She’s dressed in a nearly white dress, with flowers printed on it, and a delicate cardigan draped around her shoulders. She comes over and gives me a welcome hug as well, but without the kisses. I pay so much attention I barely realize Eric has spoken again.

  “Yes. Well I think we need to get Billy warmed up before we hit him with the big questions in life.” He holds up a bottle – it’s just wine this time, white wine – and he pours some for me, into a giant, delicate wine glass. He slides it over the granite of the work-top.

  “You’re being deliberately idiotic, Eric. As usual.” Lily goes back to the earlier conversation. She’s making a salad, I notice. I’ve not seen salad in several weeks. “I’m simply pointing out that there are already millions of guns in circulation. If you simply ban them it won’t make very much difference, and any approach needs to bear that in mind.” Eric stares at her, then theatrically looks away.

  “Actually, if you prefer,” Jennifer interrupts, smiling sweetly at me. “You could join the boys. They’re in the billiard room, discussing French Impressionist art.”

  I don’t know if this is a joke or not, though I’m beginning to suspect it might not be, but either way, I haven’t quite gotten over the house I’m in.

  “Is this house all yours?” I ask. For a second I regret the question, but Eric turns on me with a big grin.

  “Yes, it’s quite something isn’t it? The Lily-Palace I call it. Furnished for an exiled European prince, wasn’t it? You wait till you have a piss – gold faucets.”

  Lily rolls her eyes and says nothing.

  “It belongs to my grandfather, he’s letting me live here while I’m studying. He wanted me to be comfortable.”

  “And she is. So very comfortable,” Eric interrupts again, raising a toast to her with his wine glass.

  “What does your grandfather do?” I ask. “He’s not a prince is he?”

  I suppose it’s a stupid question again, or I work out it’s a stupid question, from the awkward silence. For a few seconds none of them even look at me, but they exchange glances between themselves. Then Eric puts down his glass.

  “Billy. Why don’t I give you a tour of your palatial surroundings for the
evening?” He turns to Lily. “Would that be acceptable? While you chop that tomato? I promise not to show him your boudoir…”

  Lily’s face, which is still serious after my question, suddenly breaks and she looks lovely again. Demure and beautiful.

  “Be my guest. But please don’t break any more vases.”

  Eric sends a look in her direction, but then trips over to me. Before I know what’s happened he’s plucked my own glass from me and put it down, and we’re arm in arm. I can feel the thinness of his muscles through the shirt sleeve.

  We go back into the hallway, and then into a room dominated by a huge dining table, set on a rug over a hard wooden floor. You could seat twenty people at it, probably, but it’s set for just – I count quickly – six, and with what looks like really expensive plates and cutlery, with napkins and everything. I don’t know if they’re expensive or not, but they look it. The rest of the room matches the house. There’s an enormous fireplace with a gigantic mirror hanging over it, and a large double window too, and when I step closer I see outside there’s a big piece of lawn shielded on both sides by mature trees. Beyond the lawn there’s a dock and the river, wide here as it meets the bay.

  “This is where we eat,” Eric begins. “Decorated for King George the eighth by the Parisian interior design genius Pierre Le Gustave, famous for having only one eye and three legs.”

  I look blank.

  “I just made that up, but there will be a test afterwards.” He stops. “Actually I just had to get you out of there before you got yourself into any more trouble.”

  If it’s possible I look even blanker. “Billy, let me enlighten you with the rules of the Lily-palace,” he slips his arm around me and leads me out of the room, back into the hallway, and then into another room. It’s lined with bookshelves on every wall, with ladders for reaching the ones higher up.

  “The library,” He says. “Let’s sit for a moment and contemplate.” There are four red leather armchairs and he pushes me into one and takes another.

  “The first rule of the Lily-palace is you do not talk about the Lily-palace.” He waits a second, then goes on. “You pretend, just like the rest of us do, that it’s quite normal to live in a ten-bedroom mansion on the river with priceless antiques and golden faucets.”

  “But why does she…”

  “Eh!” Eric holds up a finger to stop me. “You’re forgetting the first rule of the Lily-Palace. You don’t talk about the…”

  “But…”

  “Stop it. Billy. You don’t ask about, you don’t look quizzically at, you don’t even mention the Lily-Palace. Not to your friends, your family.” He fixes me with a hard stare. “Not even to your lovers.”

  There’s a silence.

  “I don’t have any lovers.”

  I don’t know why I say that. I guess I’m finding this all rather overwhelming.

  “Oh Billy. You’re very revealing. Like an open book. But it brings me onto the third rule. Up.”

  For a moment I don’t know what he means, then he waves his hand at me to get out of the chair, and we leave the library, and go into another room. I guess you could call it a sitting room. It’s a little bit more normal, and it has a TV on the wall. There’s an opening at one end into a kind of sunroom that goes out into the gardens. Eric waves a hand vaguely around it.

  “Living room. It’s where she actually lives, here and the kitchen.” Then he takes me back out. There’s only one other doorway from the hall that I haven’t seen, the one that Jennifer said the boys were in, discussing some sort of art, I think. We go there next, but even before we go in, I can hear they’re still there. Eric pushes opens the door without knocking, and I see it’s got a snooker table in it – I think it’s snooker, I’m not sure of the difference between that and billiards, but it’s obviously not a pool table because, like everything in the house, it’s massive. Inside James is there, playing with another man I haven’t met yet. I suppose this is Oscar. Both of them look at me like they’d much rather I wasn’t here, then James forces a sort of smile.

  “Billy. You came.” He doesn’t introduce the other man, but Eric does.

  “And this is Oscar. You didn’t meet before, but we told him about you.”

  I don’t know if I’m supposed to go in there and shake his hand, or what, but he doesn’t make any move towards me.

  “Hello.” I say in the end, and he just nods back at me.

  “Your shot,” James says, turning his back on us. So I guess the conversation is over.

  “Let’s look upstairs,” Eric says. And then when we’re going up the stairway he keeps on. “You’ll warm to Oscar. And to James. As long as you remember the third rule…”

  By now we’re on the landing of the first floor, which again is lined with art. At regular intervals there are table type things with huge vases on them.

  “That was what I broke,” Eric interrupts himself. “One of those. Playing football. It was worth over a hundred thousand dollars. But apparently insured for several times that. So I made the family a profit, hence I’m still allowed in. But not with a football. Pick a door.”

  I do, and Eric takes me into a huge bedroom. For a second I wonder if it’s Lily’s.

  “It’s not. If that’s what you’re wondering. She sleeps in the very grand master bedroom. Not even I’ve been in there, only James. This is just one of the guest rooms.”

  He says James’ name so quickly I almost don’t catch it, but I do, and I stop myself from repeating it.

  “What’s the third rule?” I ask, after I’ve looked at the large bed, and admired a wardrobe.

  “The third rule,” Eric turns to me. He looks more serious now, even a bit scary. “The third rule of you being here Billy, is you don’t try and fuck Lily.”

  I’m completely taken aback by this.

  “I wouldn’t…” I manage, eventually.

  “I know. I know you wouldn’t. She’s completely out of your league. Completely out of everyone’s league. Except James of course. But the things is, she’s just so gorgeous, isn’t she..?” He smiles again. “Not exactly my type, of course, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate how bewitchingly beautiful she is. All that milky white skin, clear eyes. Gorgeous cheek bones. And I suppose you can get away with fantasizing about it. When you’re back at home. But if you make a move on her, when she’s drunk, or when you’re drunk, and she may give you that chance, because she can be flirty can our Lily. But if you act upon it, if you try to fuck her, then this whole place will collapse around you. Collapse into ruins.”

  I don’t know what to say. But even through the warning, I feel a kind of pain. “That guy James, is he her boyfriend?”

  Eric is silent. But then he nods.

  “What about Oscar?”

  “What about Oscar?” He frowns now. “He’s just a… He’s James’ friend. He’s nothing.”

  “He’s not…” I don’t know what I’m asking, and it seems Eric doesn’t know either.

  “He’s not with… with Jennifer?”

  Eric stares at me closely. “I think so. But why would you care? About her. Are you a particular fan of winning second prize?” He raises his eyebrows. “With Jennifer? I suppose you could try your luck there, but to be honest I wouldn’t recommend that either.”

  “I didn’t mean…” I struggle to make sense of all this. “I just mean, who are you all, to each other?”

  Eric fixes me with a look before answering.

  “We’re just friends, Billy. We’re just an ordinary group of friends. Now let me show you the roof terrace.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Not long after Jennifer calls up the stairs that dinner is ready, and we all go into the dining room. I sit in the center of the table between Eric and Jennifer on one side, and opposite James who has Lily and Oscar either side of him. And James kind of takes control now, but also he seems to be in a better mood now. He pours me more wine – red this time – and makes space on the table for Lily to put down a
dish of what looks like little balls. I’ve no idea what it actually is, until she notices my face and explains.

  “It’s gnocchi.”

  “Mmmm.” Eric says. “Homemade?”

  “Yes, but not by me.” Lily replies. “From the deli. And there’s salad too, I’ll just get it.”

  “I’ll go.” James gets up, and he smiles at her, looking completely normal and genuine this time. He leaves the room. When he comes back, the others start digging in, and after a moment, encourage me to do the same. I don’t actually know what gnocchi is, but it seems to be a kind of soft pasta stuff, shaped into balls. It’s pretty tasty actually.

  “Did you come to a conclusion,” Jennifer asks, addressing the question to James, “about which of the French impressionists was the best?”

  “We agreed it was a tie,” James replies, smiling broadly now. He really is handsome, it’s hard not to notice. “Between Monet and Cézanne.” Then he turns to me. “Maybe Billy can cast the deciding vote. Do you have a favorite painter Billy?”

  I can tell that this comment could be made to belittle me, but actually it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like a genuine question.

  “I don’t really know.”

  “I didn’t either,” James continues, without hesitation. “I couldn’t tell my Pissarro from my Picasso…” He’s interrupted.

  “Or your Andy Warhol from your hairy asshole,” Eric cuts in, but James carries on talking as if Eric doesn’t exist. He just gives him a look.

  “But we went to Europe last summer, to see them first hand. And it really is something.” There’s murmurs of approval from the others, and I understand he means they all went, together.

  “The thing about art is, it’s…” He stops, and stares off into space for a moment. “It’s a strange mixture of money, mystery, scarcity-value, and a visible progression of skills and techniques, that you can trace through the artists, through history.”