The Telephone Box Library

by Rachael Lucas

‘I’m afraid not. Has she gone AWOL?’

  ‘I think so. She didn’t turn up at school today. Probably taken herself off to Milton Keynes shopping, or something like that.’ It sounded plausible. He’d played truant enough as a teenager – maybe she was taking after him.

  ‘I expect so. I’ll keep an eye out, and let you know if I hear anything. Oh, here’s Lucy. I’ll let her know.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He wished for an irrational second that Lucy was there with him, calm and kind and easy-going. She’d know what to do. And – he looked at the clock – God, he had to collect the boys from college. He turned on the truck and reversed out of the drive, feeling sick.

  He tried Freya’s number again, and this time it rang out.

  ‘Hello?’

  Keeping both eyes on the road, trying to be heard over the sound of traffic on his hopeless Bluetooth speaker, Sam could have wept with relief at the sound of her voice.

  ‘Where the hell were you?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘I’m coming out of school.’

  Oh, she was going to play it like that, was she? Right. He took a left turn and headed for the community college, parking up outside and waiting for the boys to appear. One by one they peeled themselves off the wall they’d been leaning against and slouched towards him.

  ‘Okay, I’ll see you at home then?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Freya. ‘I thought I’d make some cake. Might pop up to the shop and get some stuff so if I’m not there when you get back, that’s where I’ll be.’

  No you will not, young lady – you’ll stay exactly where you are, Sam thought. ‘Okay, see you in half an hour,’ is what he said.

  He dropped the boys off in Bletchingham and spun round, heading back to the village at top speed. He pulled up outside the cottage and left the truck sitting on the road – there was no way he had the patience to carefully reverse it into the drive in his current state of mind.

  Inside the house, Freya was sitting quite comfortably on the sofa, watching YouTube on the television screen while scrolling through Instagram on her phone. She looked up with an angelic smile that made him feel quite cold. For a second, she looked so like her mother that it threw him.

  ‘Hi, Dad,’ she said, blithely. ‘Sorry, I haven’t made cake yet. You don’t fancy nipping to the shop to get me eggs and some more butter, do you?’

  ‘I think I’m fine for cake,’ he said, grimly. He sat down on the armchair, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, and looked directly at her. ‘How was school?’

  ‘Fine.’ She didn’t look up from her phone.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Absolutely. I mean boring, but fine.’

  He turned his phone to face her, showing the missed calls on the screen. For a second she looked at them uncomprehendingly, then the penny seemed to drop.

  ‘You weren’t at school.’

  ‘All right.’ She chewed her lip. ‘I got the bus to MK. I went to the shops and wandered around and had a coffee. Then I came back in time to get the school bus home.’

  He looked at her for a long moment. Freckles scattered across her nose, her hair in two long plaits tied together at the back. She had two silver hoop earrings in each ear – against school rules, but disregarded by her form tutor, who believed that there was no point in creating battles over minor indiscretions. And Freya was a model pupil – or she had been, until recently.

  ‘You could have told me,’ he said, feeling a bit hopeless.

  ‘What? “Hey, Dad, I’ve decided to wag off school today, see how it feels?”’ She laughed. ‘And you’d be okay with that?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ He felt completely out of his depth. Maybe someone else would ground her, or cut off her access to the internet or something, but he’d never really parented that way. ‘Just please don’t do it again, okay? I was worried sick when I didn’t know where you were.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she said, cheerfully. ‘It was quite boring, actually. And I kept worrying people would be thinking I’d wagged off because I was in uniform.’

  ‘You’re supposed to take clothes in your bag and change,’ he said, almost without thinking.

  ‘Like you did?’

  ‘Exactly. And you don’t want to end up like me.’ He smiled, despite himself. She knew exactly how to wind him round her little finger.

  The next day, he got home from work early, showered, and stood trying to decide what shirt to wear.

  ‘Have you got a hot date?’ Freya appeared, flopping onto the bed and looking at him thoughtfully.

  ‘No, it’s the final meeting about the phone box library. Remember? Aren’t you coming?’

  ‘Oh God. Yeah. I forgot.’ She looked up at him briefly. ‘Actually, I think I might skip it.’

  ‘But she’s the one who came up with the idea.’ Sam shook his head in despair.

  ‘That’s just teenagers,’ Lucy said with a shrug. They were sitting with Mel on uncomfortable plastic chairs in the village hall, waiting for the meeting to begin. ‘If you express the slightest interest in something, they usually drop it, because the fact you’re interested automatically makes it supremely uncool.’

  ‘Totally. Camille wouldn’t be seen dead here. Or within about fifty metres of me, unless I’ve got my wallet open and I’m offering to buy her stuff.’ Mel laughed. ‘Even then she’d rather take my bank card, and leave me sitting outside in Nandos while she goes mad in H&M.’

  ‘Freya wasn’t like that, though,’ he began, tailing off as Helen marched onto the wooden dais at the front of the village hall.

  At the end of the meeting, Mel got chatting to a friend and insisted they go ahead without her.

  ‘What happened to the bat walk?’

  ‘Good question. I think all the village stuff has been so focused on the phone box library that it’s somehow fallen by the wayside.’

  ‘Shame,’ Lucy murmured. ‘I was looking forward to it.’

  ‘I’ll take you,’ he said, realizing he sounded as keen as a schoolboy. But he didn’t care. ‘How about tomorrow? Freya’s on a school residential, so I don’t have to worry about getting back for her.’ As soon as he said it he realized this sounded a bit presumptuous, so he followed it up quickly. ‘In fact, I could really do with more of your professional advice.’

  He explained what had happened with Freya truanting, and how she’d seemed quite insouciant about it afterwards. ‘I can’t help worrying that she’s going to end up like her mother,’ he said, finally.

  ‘She’s her own person,’ Lucy said, as they stopped outside the terraced row of cottages. Hamish’s head popped up from underneath the curtain, making them laugh.

  ‘That’s what I worry about. So was Stella.’

  ‘But she’s been brought up by you. A bit of rebellion doesn’t do them any harm. Honestly. Shows they’ve got a bit of spirit.’

  He sighed. He had a feeling there was more to it than that. ‘I suspect she’s got that. I used to wag off school as much as I could.’

  ‘That was because you were struggling, though, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And Freya’s not struggling with schoolwork.’

  ‘No. She definitely didn’t get her brains from me.’

  Having said goodbye, Lucy let Hamish out into the garden. Despite what she’d said to Sam, something niggled at her about Freya’s absence this evening. She felt torn between telling Sam what she knew and not breaking a confidence – but for now, Freya seemed safe, which was the most important thing. She’d have to play it by ear.

  It was all very complicated. She got into bed and pulled the covers up, laughing at Hamish as he did his usual routine of hopping in circles to make himself a nest in the blanket at the end of the bed. She thought about how much she was looking forward to seeing Sam tomorrow night. As a friend. Just a friend.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘D’you want to come i
n? I wasn’t sure what the protocol was. Do I need a torch?’ Lucy hadn’t known what to wear for a bat-spotting walk. She’d settled on jeans and a blue-and-white striped jumper, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail.

  Sam shook his head, smiling. ‘No torch. Just yourself.’ Hamish circled around his legs, his stumpy tail wagging. ‘And no dogs, I’m afraid.’ Sam leaned down, scratching him behind the ears.

  ‘Do we need to wait until it’s dark?’

  ‘No – if you’re ready, we can go now.’ He opened the door, standing back to let her out. ‘After you.’

  It was strange how awkward she sometimes felt in his company. Lucy got the feeling that he was uncomfortable, too. Without Mel there to act as a foil, or the girls, or the dogs, the silence as they walked along the leafy path towards the allotments was deafening.

  ‘How’s Freya?’

  ‘Good. Off on her school trip. And definitely on her trip,’ he grinned, ‘because I saw her off on the bus this time.’

  ‘That’s a relief.’

  ‘I don’t often get a night off. The trouble with being a single parent is you’re pretty much on call 24/7.’

  ‘I’m honoured you’re spending it with me,’ Lucy said, puffing slightly as they trudged up the hill to the woods.

  ‘I can’t think of anyone nicer to spend it with.’ Sam swatted at a tiny bug on his forehead. ‘You, me, several bats, and the entire mosquito population of Buckinghamshire.’

  ‘You’re not joking.’ She scratched her head. ‘I think I’ve been bitten.’

  ‘Hopefully that means our little bat friends will be coming to join us soon.’

  ‘Our little bat friends?’ She looked at him sideways.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, the corner of his mouth quirking in a half smile.

  ‘Have you got me up here under false pretences?’ She sidestepped to avoid a puddle, her shoulder brushing against his arm. It felt solid with muscle. She stepped away again, wishing for another puddle to avoid. The path was clear.

  ‘No, I’m not in the habit of luring women to the woods after dark for anything dubious, I promise.’

  Shame, thought Lucy, widening her eyes at her inner thoughts. She must get a grip. They were here to look at bats. It was a perfectly normal thing to do.

  ‘Look!’ Sam pointed upwards.

  She peered into the sky. ‘What am I looking at?’

  ‘Pipistrelles. They’re tiny. Look, little dots in the air, there –’

  Lucy scrunched up her eyes. ‘Nope, I can’t see them.’

  Sam laughed. ‘That’s because they’ve gone.’

  ‘Right.’ She shaded her eyes, despite the fact that the light was falling rapidly. The sun had dropped below the horizon, leaving a pale, luminescent orange-streaked sky.

  ‘It’s like looking for a shooting star. You’ve got to sort of look everywhere and nowhere at once.’

  Lucy turned to look at Sam. He dropped his gaze from the sky and looked at her directly.

  ‘You realize that what you’re describing is physically impossible?’

  ‘Yes. That’s why it’s so much fun.’ He was teasing her. ‘Look, I can show you.’

  He took her shoulders and turned her gently so she was facing towards a gap in the trees at the mouth of the woods. His hands stayed there, weighting her shoulders.

  ‘If you stand here . . .’ She was alert to the sensation of his body behind hers, as if there was some sort of charge between them. Her heart was thudding as she stood completely still, hoping that he couldn’t sense the fact that her legs were trembling, despite the unseasonable warmth of the evening. ‘We’ll both be looking exactly the same way. That way you’ll see what I can see.’

  Her heart was thumping so hard in her chest that she was certain he could hear it. She let out her breath slowly, wondering if it sounded as shaky as it felt.

  ‘There,’ he said, his voice low in her ear.

  ‘I see them!’

  ‘Gorgeous, aren’t they?’ He was still holding her shoulders.

  Three bats swooped back and forth across the darkening sky. Another couple joined them then, and they stood together watching. And then in a second they were gone.

  ‘Let’s go in a bit – there’ll be more. Harder to see as it gets dark, though.’

  The trees were etched ink-black against the sky, and all around them was silence. Lucy hoped he’d offer to show her where to look again, and when he did, her insides melting, there was a part of her that wanted to simply lean back against him and close her eyes. Never mind the bats.

  An owl hooted overhead. She pushed hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear, brushing away another mosquito as it hummed close to her face. And then something brushed against her skin and she stepped backwards, bumping into Sam, and spun around in a second, gasping an apology.

  ‘I’m sorry. I think it was a moth or something.’

  ‘I’m not complaining.’

  She could hardly see his face in the deepening dusk. Neither of them moved. If she was going to kiss him ever, this was it. She lifted a hand, tentatively first, and then touched the scruff of stubble on his cheek.

  She felt him inhaling sharply. He took her hand, lacing his fingers between hers. For a moment they stood in silence, the only sound the owl hooting somewhere in the trees above them. And then he said, his mouth almost on hers –

  ‘Can I –’

  She gave the briefest of nods, and as they kissed for the first time she felt his fingers curling around hers, his other hand reaching to feel the curve of her waist. She snaked her hands around his neck as he brought his mouth down on hers. She pulled away for a second and looked at him, her breath uneven. His eyes locked on hers and he lifted a hand to her face, running a finger down her jawline for a moment. Lucy’s breath caught as he leaned forward, kissing first her jaw and then the corner of her mouth so gently that all the hairs on her neck rose up. Her hands were still tangled in his hair and she pulled him closer in the shadowy winter evening.

  ‘I think we might frighten the wildlife if we stay here much longer.’ He gave a slow smile, some time later. ‘Shall we head back?’

  He rubbed gently on her palm with his thumb as they walked back in the darkness, which had fallen all at once. His hand was warm and he squeezed her fingers in a silent gesture. She felt as if someone had charged her with electricity.

  Just before they reached the lane, he stopped, pulling her into his arms again.

  ‘I’ve thought about that for a long time.’

  She was leaning against a wall, looking up at him. His eyes were dark.

  ‘Me too.’

  Infinitely gently, as if they had all the time in the world, he leaned towards her, dropping a kiss first on her temple, then on her jawbone, and then – finally – on her mouth. Lucy felt herself arching up towards him. She felt him catch his breath.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  They went to his place. The dogs were half asleep in the kitchen. He took a bottle of red wine from the counter, and handed her two glasses. She followed him through to the sitting room where the log burner was slumbering. Opening the door, he tossed in a couple of logs and in seconds the fire blazed into life. Like me, Lucy thought, watching as he poured two glasses of wine and handed her one.

  He sat down beside her on the sofa, taking a drink, looking at her over the top of his glass. She took the glass from his hand, placing it beside hers on the table in front of them, and leaned towards him.

  ‘I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you because Freya is away,’ she said, teasingly.

  ‘Oh.’ He cupped her face in one hand, looking at her wonderingly for a moment before kissing her. When they came up for air, he said, laughing, ‘I rather hoped you might.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  ‘I have to go.’

  Sam rolled over. It wasn’t his imagination. There, lying in his bed, under his covers, was Lucy. She reached out and touched his arm, as if she couldn’t quite
believe it either.

  ‘You have to go where?’ He glanced over her shoulder at the clock. It was half past five in the morning.

  ‘Hamish. He’s probably eaten half the furniture and peed on the remains.’

  ‘D’you want me to come back with you?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Don’t worry. If I go now, maybe we’ll avoid activating the village gossip systems. But I’ll see you later?’

  He watched as she pulled on her clothes. Her hair was ruffled at the back and she had smudges of mascara under her eyes and she looked utterly beautiful.

  ‘Okay.’ He tried for a second to play it cool. ‘When?’ And failed. He’d been holding back for so long, and now that he’d actually spent the evening with Lucy in his arms – and in his bed – he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted to pull her back into bed, and when she sat down on the edge of it, leaning over to kiss him goodbye, he curled an arm around her waist and murmured, his mouth almost on hers, ‘Stay. We can buy new furniture.’

  ‘Don’t tempt me.’ She wriggled out of his grasp and gave him a cheeky smile. ‘I won’t be far away.’

  He groaned. ‘I know. That’s what makes it harder.’

  Lucy raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

  He shook his head, laughing. ‘Go. Now.’

  Back in the cottage, Lucy was relieved to find that Hamish had – far from dismantling the place and weeing everywhere – been a paragon of virtue and was curled up, fast asleep, on the armchair. She opened the back door to let him out and gasped with surprise. Hamish stopped stock still, eyes popping. A hedgehog was bumbling across the gravel path, heading for the house Sam had built.

  ‘Wait,’ she said to Hamish, who was completely confounded by the sight of a walking, spiky pom-pom. It disappeared into the darkness of the little wooden house, and Hamish skittered up the garden to do his business.

  Lucy leaned back against the cold stone of the house wall, listening to the silence of the night. Her chin was stinging with stubble rash from hours of kissing, and she felt – well, it had been a long time. Everything ached, but in a very good way. She called Hamish in, ran a hot shower, and climbed into bed and slept almost until lunchtime.

  Waking, feeling smug and sated, she rolled over and stretched her limbs. Perhaps she could pop over later and see if Sam wanted to go for a walk with the dogs. A walk with plenty of opportunities for kissing breaks. And if there happened to be a chance afterwards to spend the evening together . . . she sighed, happily.