As he climbed the stairs to his room, the door bell rang. Lewis thought about ignoring it but then it rang again. He descended the stairs and opened the door to see Seth standing there glossy with sweat. Next to him was a mountain bike that needed a clean.
‘Hi, mate, how are you?’ Seth said.
‘Fine, I’m fine.’ Lewis replied.
‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’
‘Listen, Seth, I’m really busy at the moment. Can we catch up later?’
‘I was just checking to see how you were? How’s the head?’
‘Better, thanks.’
‘Let’s have a look.’ Seth stepped closer and leaned in to look at Lewis’ stitches. ‘Ow, still healing, eh?’
‘Yeah, they’re coming out soon.’
‘So I don’t suppose you’re up for a surf then?’
‘No, not for a few weeks.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame.’
‘Why?’
‘Kimmeridge is up again. It’s even bigger than last time.’
‘Mate, that is the last place a want to be right now.’
‘Of course, of course,’
‘So are you heading out there?’
‘I hope so. That’s what I was going to ask you about. Can I borrow your van?’
‘What?’
‘Well, mine’s in the garage and seeing as you’re not surfing at the moment …’
‘Oh I see. You didn’t really come round to see how I was, did you? You just wanted to borrow my van.’
‘No. I was worried about you, man.’
‘Seth, you’re a terrible liar. You couldn’t give a toss about me.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Yes it is. I haven’t seen or heard from you since you dropped me off at A&E. You’re not bothered about me; if you were you would’ve called.’
‘Okay, I’m sorry, I should have called to see how you were.’
‘Yeah you should’ve.’
‘I promise I’ll be around more. So what have you been doing? You must be bored out of your skull.’
‘I’ve been reading.’
‘Reading? You never read.’
‘I do now.’
‘What are you reading?’
Lewis held up the book. Seth read the cover.
‘Twilight? Isn’t that a chick’s book?’ Seth said.
‘No it’s not. It’s really good. Look I’ve gotta go.’
‘Are you sure that bump on the head hasn’t given you brain damage.’
‘See you, Seth.’
‘What about the van? Can I still borrow it?’
‘No.’ And with that, Lewis shut the door and sprinted up the stairs into his bedroom.
Seth stood there, dumbfounded, trying to compute what was happening. He muttered a swear word under his breath, threw one leg over his bike and reluctantly peddled off.
Lewis needed to calm down. He was in no mood to phone Rachel. He sat on his bed and tried to slow his breathing. After he’d finished reading Twilight he had felt confident that he could hold a sparkling conversation with her. There was a lot to talk about and he had the enthusiasm of someone who had just discovered something new and wonderful. That had now all been blown away by the arrival of Seth.
Seth seemed to represent everything he didn’t like about his life; those shallow relationships tolerated out of convenience rather than real friendship. He wanted things to mean something now instead going for quick fixes.
Lewis threw himself back onto his bed to reread the last few pages. He had to get himself in the right frame of mind for making that important call.
*
Clive and Rachel were trying to write. This was their second session and the first had gone swimmingly well. They had introduced a nasty new vampire called Silas, which was Rachel’s idea and Clive had been heaping praise on her ever since. Sometimes it felt like she was suffocating in compliments. But now they were getting down to the nitty gritty of actually inserting him into the story, and that meant changing large chunks of what Clive had already written. Both of them had strong ideas about how to do this.
Clive typed while Rachel sat beside him. Every time she made a suggestion, Clive began to weave it into the text, but Rachel’s mind kept leaping ahead excitedly. New ideas kept popping out of her mouth and Clive simply couldn’t keep up. He felt like he was losing control, frantically trying to get the words down before the next light bulb appeared over Rachel’s head.
‘I’ve just had another idea how it could work,’ said Rachel. Clive braced himself for the next tidal wave of imagination to spill out of her mind and threaten to engulf his patience. ‘What if we say Silas lives in a flat by a river? That would take care of how he gets rid of the bodies.’
Clive stopped typing and pulled his fingers into tight little fists. It wasn’t Rachel’s ideas that were annoying him - in fact, everything she said made sense - it was just that he couldn’t write and think about what she was saying at the same time.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘So why have you got that look on you face?’
This collaboration wasn’t the romantic endeavour he thought it was going to be. Clive had imagined the two of them locked in a common pursuit that would bring them closer together with every word they wrote. Instead it was beginning to annoy him.
Clive didn’t want to say anything because he wanted to preserve the peace. If he spoke his mind then Rachel might get offended and leave and never come back. Criticising her was the last thing he wanted to do but he felt so wound up, that if he continued, blood might spurt out of his ears. He took a deep breath and resorted to turning the thing around so it looked like it was his fault.
‘I’m sorry, Rachel, I’m just having trouble keeping up. These are all really great ideas, but I’m worried I can’t get them down quick enough.’
‘That’s okay. Do you want me to type?’
‘Yeah that would be good.’
The two of them swapped places and Clive felt slightly calmer. Rachel began typing and Clive watched as Rachel’s delicate fingers danced over the keyboard. She was phenomenally faster than he was, which made him feel slightly insecure.
‘Right,’ Rachel said. ‘That bit introduces the flat by the river.’
‘Great,’ said Clive. ‘Do you think it should be a flat? I mean it sounds a bit ordinary. Don’t you think a vampire should live in a big old mansion or something?’
‘That’s a bit corny. I like the idea of a vampire in a block of flats, it’s more unexpected.’
‘It’s been done before.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, in that film Let The Right One In.’
‘Oh, well you choose.’
‘Let’s make it a mansion,’
‘But that’s corny, though.’
‘You just said I could decide.’
‘Yeah I know, but spooky mansions have been done to death in vampire stories.’
‘I like the idea of a mansion.’
‘Clive, come on. It’s just so expected.’
‘Okay let’s go back to it being a flat.’
‘But you just said that’s been done too.’
‘Yeah it has. What about a bungalow?’
Rachel burst in to uncontrolled laughter.
‘What?’ said Clive. ‘What’s wrong with a bungalow?’
Rachel was nearly choking but managed to force out a few words, ‘He’s a vampire not a grandma.’
‘Shut up,’ he said. The anger in Clive’s voice suddenly sobered Rachel up and she stopped laughing. ‘I didn’t laugh at any of your ideas, so don’t laugh at mine.’
‘Sorry,’ said Rachel, ‘I was only having a joke with you. Come on, Clive, it was funny.’
‘You think my ideas are funny?’
‘No. Stop being so sensitive. I think all the other ideas you’ve had are brilliant, apart from a vampire in a bungalow.’ Rachel accidentally let a little snigger escape.
It was too late for apologies now. A mood had set in over Clive like one of those rainy Sundays that lasts forever. He sat with his arms folded looking at the screen.
‘I’m not sure if this was a good idea,’ he said.
‘What, the flat by the river?’
‘No, this whole thing - us writing together.’
‘Oh come on, Clive, don’t let one little thing spoil this. Look, I’m sorry for laughing, but we’ve got to be honest with each other. I mean if you think some of my ideas are silly you can tell me, I won’t mind.’
Clive didn’t reply.
‘Speak to me, Clive.’
Just at that moment Rachel’s phone rang and she had never been so glad to hear its plinky plonky ring tone. She didn’t recognise the number.
‘Hello,’ she said, putting the phone to her ear. ‘Oh hi, Lewis.’
Clive’s day just went from bad to über bad.
‘Yeah, I’m fine. Actually, I’m busy all week, but I could meet you now if you like? Yep cool. No don’t worry I’ll get the bus. See you in about an about hour.’ Rachel snapped her phone shut and began getting her things together.
‘Where are you going?’ Clive asked.
‘I’ve got to get out of here. Sorry, Clive, but you’re doing my head in. If you don’t want me involved in this, that’s fine. If you do, then I still want to help but you need to calm down and stop being so precious about everything. I’ll see you at school.’
Rachel swung her bag over her arm and was gone. A few seconds later Clive heard the front door slam. He swept the keyboard off the desk in one angry motion. Once again Clive had Rachel in the palm of his hand only for her to be snatched away by Lewis.
Clive punched himself in the temples a few times for being such a dimwit. He knew deep down it hadn’t been Lewis who had taken her away, it was his own childishness. He had acted like a spoilt brat and driven her away. This little incident was only going to make him look less attractive to Rachel.
Clive didn’t possess the know-how for patching things up with girls. This was all new to him and there was no handbook to refer to. Maybe there was a Relationships For Dummies he could look at, but that probably wouldn’t do any good as he wasn’t even in a proper relationship yet.
Clive couldn’t understand where it had all gone wrong. Weren’t people who had something in common supposed to get along better? Writing the story together should have been the catalyst but it was turning into a catastrophe.
He would have to do some serious grovelling to get Rachel back writing with him. An unwelcome thought arose at the periphery of his mind - maybe it would be better if she didn’t.
*
Lewis had sounded surprised when Rachel had said yes to meeting him. Rachel had even surprised herself. It had been her intention to keep turning Lewis away until he got the message, but his phone call had given her the excuse she needed to get away from Clive until he calmed down.
As she rode down to the seafront on the bus, Rachel decided that she would talk to him for half an hour or for as long as it seemed polite, and then make some excuse and leave. She did think of calling and cancelling, but she felt that might be a bit harsh. Well, that’s how she justified it to herself. In actual fact, she couldn’t wait to see him again, even though her common sense threw buckets of cold water on the fire of excitement rising up in her belly. This was dangerous and she knew it. Every cell in her body was magnetised to be hopelessly attracted to him, even though she knew he was no good for her.
She tried to think about the incident at the party, when she had seen his true colours. That helped to dull his allure but she didn’t know whether it would be enough to fend off his beautiful face.
As the bus pulled in to its final stop she could see a tall handsome figure leaning against a smart red van. It was Lewis and, even though he looked paler than she remembered and was wearing a baggy beanie hat, he still looked remarkable.
When he saw her step off the bus he ran over to her, his flip flops making a happy slapping sound against the soles of his feet. He wore his trademark surf shorts and a simple white t-shirt. A big natural grin broke across his face and Rachel couldn’t help but throw one back in his direction.
‘Rachel,’ he said. ‘Good to see you again. Come on let’s get an ice cream. This place does unbelievable stuff, it’s all homemade.’
‘Yeah, sounds good,’ Rachel replied.
It was a warm September afternoon and fresh ice cream sounded like the perfect antidote for the fiery atmosphere she’d just left.
Lewis led her along a small pathway that snaked its way down to one of the lesser known beaches. At the end on the left-hand side was a small hut with the words ‘Ices’ written in block capitals. The paint was flaking off where it had been standing for too long in the corrosive salt air. On the front, a large flap had been folded down to reveal a red-cheeked man with beefy arms covered in thick black hairs.
‘What would you like?’ Lewis asked.
Rachel scanned the long list of flavours. There were no fancy air-brushed pictures here, just a list of descriptions written in fat marker pen.
‘I’ll have lemon meringue, please,’ said Rachel.
‘Excellent choice,’ said the man, ‘and for you, sir?’
‘Vanilla,’ said Lewis.
‘Vanilla?’ said Rachel.
‘Vanilla is a perfectly good ice cream,’ said the man. ‘Very hard working, but anyone can make vanilla. Wouldn’t you rather try something that tests my skills as an ice cream maker?’
‘Er, okay. What about peaches and cream?’
‘Ah now we’re talking.’ And with that the man turned and began filling little tubs with their chosen delicacies.
Lewis and Rachel took their ice creams and walked along the promenade. Though it was the end of the season, the beach was still peppered with people trying to extract the last rays from the late afternoon sun. The chirping of children could be heard as they played along the shoreline.
‘Oh my God,’ Rachel said, ‘this tastes exactly like lemon meringue.’
‘See, I told you it was good.’
‘Good? It’s freakin’ marvellous. Wait ‘til I tell Cassie about this place, she’s going to love it.’
‘How is Cassie by the way?’
‘Oh the usual - barmy but lovely. I think she’s in love with your mate, Matt, by the way.’
‘Really? Can I tell him?’
‘Yeah, I suppose it’d be alright.’
‘He likes her too, but he’s quite shy, you know. Likes girls to make the first move and all that.’
‘Wow, I’d never have guessed.’
‘Talking of guessing, guess what I’ve just read.’
‘Twilight?’
‘Yeah, it’s brilliant. I’m so hooked.’
‘I know, tell me about it. I’ve read them all about ten times.’ Rachel hadn’t meant to let that last bit slip out. Now he was going think she was obsessive and back right off.
‘I can believe it. It’s so addictive,’ said Lewis. ‘I can see why all you girls are in love with Edward - he’s pretty smooth, you know, for a dead guy.’
Rachel’s shoulders relaxed. That comment hadn’t even registered with him. Either he wasn’t listening or he didn’t care about things like that. She hoped it was the latter.
‘Are you on to the second book yet?’ she asked.
‘No, Olivia’s still hogging it. You know I’m so desperate to get my hands on it I nearly went out and bought another copy.’
Rachel resisted the temptation to offer to lend him hers. That was what friends did and she didn’t consider herself to be his friend. Although deep down she wanted more than that. But for the moment, keeping him at arm’s or maybe even elbow’s length seemed the smarter move. Rachel steered the conversation in a different direction:
‘You’re a true Twi-hard.’
‘Twi-hard?’
‘A hardcore Twilight fan.’
‘Yeah, I guess I am.’
As they walked, they talked about Twilight and nothing else, only pausing now and then to take mouthfuls of ice cream. They stopped to sit on a bench and continued their animated conversation about why it had such a hold on people. They each put forward their theories and debated with each other over who was right. Rachel completely forgot about her half-hour cut-off deadline.
*
Lewis was happier than he’d been in long time. He didn’t want today to end. He could sit and listen to Rachel talk for the next thousand years. She wasn’t just pretty, she was interesting and thoughtful and funny. It just kept getting better and better. This made his heart ache all the more.
Every now and then she would censor what she was saying so it wouldn’t spoil the plot for Lewis. Whenever this happened, Rachel would put her hand to her lips, as if to stop the words from escaping. Lewis found it unbelievably cute. He watched her every movement and memorised every feature of her face.
He noticed that every so often, while she paused for thought, her rose petal mouth would flair out into an enticing pout. Lewis wanted to lean over and fit his lips around hers. But he knew this would be a mistake and would drive her away in an instant. Knowing this didn’t make the temptation any easier to bear. He now knew how Edward felt in Twilight - wanting Bella but being frightened to get too close in case he bit her. Obviously planting in a kiss on Rachel’s mouth wasn’t the same, but it took all of his will power to resist her. He had to be patient.
As the two sat engrossed in conversation, three girls with not much on apart from a pair of roller blades skated towards them. They stopped in front of Rachel and Lewis.
‘Lewis, is that you?’ said one of the girls. She had the typical Sandbanks look: blonde hair, posh accent and breasts spilling out of her top. Lewis looked up, slightly puzzled.
‘Er, yeah. Sorry, do I know you?’ he said.
‘Yes you do, I’m Sophie.’
‘Hi, Sophie,’ he said, and tried to go back to his conversation with Rachel.
Sophie interrupted: ‘You still don’t remember me do you?’
‘No, sorry I don’t.’ Lewis noticed Sophie’s two friends looking Rachel up and down, as if gauging how much of a threat she was. He felt protective over her and wanted to tell her she was just as good as they were. No, they weren’t even in the same league as Rachel.
Faye Meredith - Becoming Edward Page 11