Curve

by Nicola Hudson

  Nothing was said until the credits started and, while it hadn’t been awkward, I had been on edge, expecting Flynn to start talking at some point. Yet he had just stayed sat at the other end of the sofa, his long, jeans-clad legs propped up on the coffee table, seemingly engrossed in the on-screen antics.

  “Don’t tell anyone but that’s my favourite film,” he mock-whispered.

  “Really? I would have had you down as more of an, umm, adult film type of guy.”

  “For one, you shouldn’t know about films like that at your age and, secondly, this is the first film I can remember watching.” Flynn stopped the DVD and stretched. “We had the video when I was a kid and I think we watched it so many times the tape broke. It takes me back to being little again.”

  “For one, I’m less than eighteen months younger than you and, secondly, if that story ever got out, your reputation would seriously be discredited, Macho-man!” I momentarily enjoyed the banter but then remembered that I was the one who needed to be worried about reputation. I guess it showed on my face as Flynn also lost his smile.

  “They will soon forget about it, Cass,” he said, looking sincere.

  “I wish. But they won’t have forgotten about it by school today will they?” I admitted one of the reasons why I couldn’t sleep.

  “Oh God, I forgot you’d got school today. You really need to get some sleep,” he said. “‘Night Cass”

  “‘Night.”

  I left him to it and made my way back to bed, knowing that there was no chance of sleep when there were only a few hours before I had to face people at school.

  In fact, it being the last day of term helped. A lot. I knew that Mum would go mental if I skived the day and, being completely honest, I would have been gutted to lose my hundred per cent attendance record, so I opted to go in but steer clear of the Sixth Form, including Neve, as much as possible. Thankfully, we hadn’t had much time to talk that morning as Neve had overslept, giving her barely ten minutes to get ready before her dad dropped us off. I told her I needed to print out some homework and to meet me in the library at lunchtime. I know this makes me sound like an awful friend but I just needed to survive the day intact.

  I skipped form time and made sure that I was the last to arrive and the first to leave in the only two lessons I had. Thankfully, the teachers were not willing to indulge in the repeated demands for festive lessons, resulting in a lecture on Shakespearean England in English and a listening test in French, both of which meant that there was no opportunity for classroom gossip. I spent the remaining lessons hidden in Mrs Brunel’s office, scanning and cataloguing new books. Sensing that something was upsetting me, she left me alone for much of the time and let Neve join me in her office at lunchtime.

  Neve brought me up to date with some of the gossip that had been going around but I sensed that she was protecting me from the worst. She had also checked out all of the Facebook coverage and suggested that I avoid it for a few days. Her advice was appreciated but too late; I had deleted my account without looking at any content before she woke that morning.

  However, one line of gossip had me intrigued: apparently Rob was worried that Flynn was going to be after him for what happened, as Flynn’s acting had everyone convinced that he and I were an item before the party. As strange as that idea was, it did make me think for the first time about what Flynn had done. He had saved me from a situation that could have been a whole lot worse. What would I have been dealing with today if things had progressed with Rob and he had accomplished his mission?

  Opening the door to the shop later, ready to start my evening shift, I was determined to give no clue as to the absolute crap turn my life had taken in the last twenty four hours. I removed my coat and put on the green Supernews tabard that was already waiting for me on the counter. I tried to ignore Mike’s pointed look at the clock and opted for fake cheerfulness. “Ooh, it looks like you’ve sold a load of wrapping paper today. That’s good!” I chattered, tidying up the Christmas display.

  “It’s been non-stop all day and I’ve still got a massive order to put away,” he grumbled. “It would have been nice to get started on it earlier. It wouldn’t have hurt you to get here on time, or, God forbid, even early. You know that your mum had to take Sylvie to that party this afternoon and I’ve manned the shop on my own.” He huffed and puffed himself off the stool and started making his way towards the back room.

  Although working in the family newsagents wasn’t exactly stretching me intellectually, it was OK and decidedly better than a job in the fast food restaurant that seemed to employ half of the Sixth Form. It was like a cult where everyone was oblivious to their shared odour and happily accepted their role within the production line; I supposed that most of them lived their whole lives on a production line, all happily striving to look, do and be the same.

  The first hour passed quickly. Mike spent the time putting the order away and ignoring me, whilst I served. Most of the customers were regulars, nipping in to pick up the evening paper or a pint of milk. A couple of them asked me how school was going, what I was going to get up to over the Christmas holiday etc. As I made small talk with those people who had known me for the years that Mum and Mike had run the shop, yet who didn’t really know me at all, I wondered what would happen if I chose to unburden the tale of the previous night, instead of giving the meaningless, superficial replies expected. Yes, life’s great, thanks. I was publicly humiliated and found out that nobody will touch me unless it’s for a bet. Just the milk, is it?

  At just after six, Mum and Sylvie arrived in a swirl of laughter and chatter. I love Sylvie’s complete lack of cynicism about the world. Fair enough, very few six year olds are sceptics, but Sylvie just loves everyone and everything. Fresh from the party, she was a cloud of pink taffeta, punctuating every statement with a flourish of her fairy wand. It made me smile just to see her.

  I looked at Mum and could see that she was only half-listening to Sylvie’s tales of the enchanted castle birthday cake, and was trying to gauge Mike’s mood from the way he was stacking boxes of breakfast cereal, ignoring their presence until the job in hand was done. She looked at me and I just shrugged. What’s the point in getting involved?

  Rarely a day went by without me wondering why my mum was with Mike. From stories my nan told me when I was younger, I knew that Mum had been a feisty, intelligent young woman. She had done well at school and was about to go to Uni when she got pregnant with me. Nan had offered to bring me up so that Mum could make the most of her life, but Mum refused. My dad had never been on the scene so she spent the first few years working in an office and being a single mum. I could remember the flat we used to live in, all ethnic throws and candles. It is how I pictured what my place would look like when I eventually moved out. But, when I was about Sylvie’s age, Mum met Mike and that was that.

  Except that I wished it was a different story. Mum had become the sort of middle-aged woman seen in every soap opera: hair which has clearly been left to dry without electrical assistance; clothes bought as outfits from catalogues; and a permanent turndown at the corner of her mouth, where disappointment has left its mark.

  My favourite memories of home pretty much all came from life before Mike. Mum used to read to me all of the time. Saturday mornings would involve a leisurely trip to the library, browsing and choosing. I would take my choices with me and sit in the adults’ section whilst Mum chose books for herself. If the weather was nice, we would stop in the park on our way back home and start the books: first of all, Mum reading to me and then, when I could read by myself, the pair of us sat in silence, together lost in separate worlds.

  But things change. I missed the mum I used to know.

  Seeing the tension in her face, I offered to finish putting the order away as I knew the shop would be quiet until we shut at eight. They were soon gone and I got on with the work, sort of enjoying the fact that it helped the time pass more quickly and took my mind off the mess the rest of my life seemed to be tu
rning into.

  As I walked home after locking up the shop, my phone chirped that I had a message.

  Neve: You OK?

  Me: Yeah. Just walking home.

  Neve: Gd. You wanna chat?

  Me: Not really. I’m going to get an early night. Didn’t sleep much last night :(

  Neve: OK. Ring me 2moro. Love you.

  Me: Love you too x

  I didn’t know what I would do without her; she was the only person I could be truly honest with.

  Well, as honest as any of us are with anyone, even ourselves.

  I was sweeping the shop floor, ready to close up, when the doorbell alerted me to the fact that I had some late customers. As I turned towards the counter, I heard voices I recognised.

  “Do you want crisps as well, Matt?” Jamie, captain of the school rugby team, recognised me as soon as he lifted his head from the fridge. “Well hello, darlin’. Boyfriend not around tonight?” His voice dripped sarcasm.

  “Who you talking to, Jay?” As Matt approached the counter, he developed a cocky swagger and winked at me. “Hello, gorgeous! Can I get a picture with you tonight?” He winked again, leant over the counter and trailed a finger slowly across my forearm. A cold shiver followed his finger. “How about a feel of that lovely arse? You know we share everything as a team, don’t you?” He ended with a high five at Jamie and they both fell about laughing. It was clear that they had been drinking and, for the first time ever, I was worried about being completely alone in a shop on a quiet road.

  “Rob would kill you, Matt. He reckons he has unfinished business with her. But once he’s sorted, I’m sure he would be up for sharing!” Jamie turned to me, looks me up and down and, with a hideous leer on his face, looked me dead in the eye. “I’d be OK with sloppy seconds. What about you?” Bile rose in my throat at the vile comment.

  “Oh yeah mate, I always go large!” The two of them were almost wetting themselves with laughter but there was an air of menace to their words. I knew that I couldn’t allow them to see that I was scared.

  “Are you guys going to pay for that stuff or not? We close in a couple of minutes,” I said, glad for the distance provided by the counter.

  “I dunno. What do you charge?” Jamie clearly thought he was the king of comedy so I noisily rang up their snacks.

  “Three pounds, seventy three please.” I tried to keep my voice calm and polite.

  “Here you go, babe. Keep the change!” He dropped four pound coins on the counter, picked up the food and winked at me. “See you soon. Very soon, I hope!” He strutted out, followed by Matt, who was struggling to walk through laughing so much.

  I waited for a few seconds, heart pounding in my chest, before locking the door from the inside.

  How naïve was I to think that this would all go away just because we weren’t in school? And what did he mean when he said that Rob had ‘unfinished business’ with me? This was all supposed to be a joke, wasn’t it?

  I felt as crap as I did when I saw that picture on Facebook, if not worse. I shut the shop but felt a bit on edge as I left the glow of the security light behind me. Not only was Neve’s house much closer to the shop than mine, I also really wanted to talk to her about what had happened.

  Me: You doing anything?

  Neve: Just watching crap telly. You finished work?

  Me: Yeah. Can I come to yours?

  Neve: Course. C u in 10?

  Me: x

  I covered the distance to Neve’s house in record time and she answered the door on my first knock.

  “Shit, Cass. What’s up?” Clearly I didn’t look as calm as I had hoped. I knew I couldn’t talk without crying, even though I’m not usually the crying type, so just held her hand. She pulled me up the stairs to her room and we sat on the bed. It took a couple of minutes but she patiently waited.

  “Jamie and Matt came into the shop about twenty minutes ago. They started taking the piss, saying some horrible stuff about me.” To my ears, it sounded like I was making a big deal out of nothing. “And they said that Rob had ‘unfinished business’ with me. I felt scared, Neve. They were drunk and I didn’t know how far they were going to push it.”

  “Oh God, Cass. That’s horrible. Do you think they came in there deliberately? Like they knew you worked there or something?” That hadn’t crossed my mind and it had looked like Jamie was surprised to see me. But once Neve had planted that thought, my mind went into overdrive. What if they had decided to come in and have some fun at my expense? Whether or not they did know where I worked beforehand, they did now. I got a sick feeling and wondered if this whole thing could get any worse. There was an awkward silence; neither of us knew what to say. Our lives, and conversations, had never covered stuff like this. We had never needed to.

  “Come on, let’s get a drink and talk about what we are going to do when you move in next week!” I allowed myself to be distracted by Neve’s excitement and followed her downstairs.

  Mike was taking Mum away for a short holiday straight after Christmas. They didn’t usually go away but, as it would be a quiet time in the shop, they decided to shut for a few days and go for a ‘dirty weekend’ as Mike kept calling it. Ergh. Sylvie was going to stay with Mike’s parents and I was going to be left at home. But when they heard about the plans, Neve’s parents said that I couldn’t be by myself for that long and invited me to stay with them.

  Neve was beyond excited about it as I’d only ever stayed for one night at a time before and, as I worked Saturday and Sunday mornings in the shop, I never got to do the whole lazy morning-after thing. So this was turning into an epic adventure for her.

  We got to the kitchen and, after grabbing a couple of cans of pop out of the fridge, sat down at the breakfast bar. Neve took her phone out and opened up a notes app. Seriously, she had made a list of what we were going to do, most of which seemed to have been taken from clichéd teen novels and films. I laughed at the idea of us giving each other French manicures and talking about boys; both of us preferred black nail polish and neither of us had seen any action. Ever.

  I was laughing so much at some of her ludicrous suggestions that we didn’t hear Flynn come into the kitchen. “What are you two giggling about? You sound like naughty little girls!” Neve picked up the tea towel and swatted him with it.

  “Oi!”

  He took it out of her hands and whipped her backside with it before hanging it back up. I often felt jealous of their relationship and wished that Sylvie wasn’t so much younger than me.

  “Hi, Cass. How’s it going?” Just as I was about to answer him, Neve cut in.

  “Some of those god-damn rugby bastards came in to the shop tonight and had a go at her.” Thanks Neve.

  “What happened? Who was it? What did they say?” The questions were delivered in staccato whilst Flynn looked straight at me. I struggled to maintain eye contact with him as his gaze was pretty intense but didn’t want to look weak by breaking it, or by getting upset. I decided to adopt a neutral tone and answered him with just the bare details.

  With each piece of information, his jaw became more tense and I could see his knuckles getting whiter as he gripped the edge of one of the bar stools. “Why are you left alone in the shop at night?” His question made me surprisingly defensive as it caught me off guard.

  “I work three evenings after school. It’s quiet so doesn’t need more than one of us.” I sensed that he didn’t think my answer was enough but was too polite to point out that maybe it should be Mum and Mike who were questioning my security, not him. His silence spoke volumes.

  “Cass, why don’t you stay here tonight? I don’t want you to walk home by yourself now. What if those lads are still around?” Neve looked a little worried and managed to pass some of that concern to me.

  “I can give you a lift home. It’s no problem.” Flynn’s offer took me by surprise. I’d probably spent more than a hundred evenings at Neve’s house and he’d never offered me a lift before; sometimes he gave the two of us a
lift into town, but the night of the party was the first time I had been in his car since he started Uni in September. I was torn. I knew that I didn’t have any clothes to stay over, but I was also weirdly unsettled by the idea of Flynn taking me home. And I didn’t want to admit that the reason I couldn’t stay was that I wouldn’t fit into any of Neve’s clothes. Not only is she the youngest person in our year, but also the smallest. It’s one of the jokes others enjoy at our expense: Little and Large, Fatty and Thinny…you get the idea.

  “I don’t have any stuff here, Neve. I’ll be OK walking.”

  “You either accept a lift or the offer of a tee shirt so that you can sleep over. Your choice.” There was an edge of authority to Flynn’s voice that suggested he wasn’t in a mood to be messed with.

  “Umm, I’ll take the tee shirt then. Thanks.” I gave him what I hoped was a gracious smile and looked away. He disappeared upstairs and I took the phone Neve handed to me so that I could ring Mum. She wasn’t happy that I was staying over but admitted that it was a bit late to walk home. The idea of Mike picking me up clearly didn’t enter her head, or, if it did, she knew better than to suggest it to him.

  “Here you go.” Flynn chucked a pale grey tee shirt at me. I held the shirt out to see that it was one of those generic XL tops companies give out at festivals. “Is it even legal to advertise cider at your age?” He gave me a quick wink. It was amazing that the same gesture from Jamie and Matt earlier freaked me out, but this just seemed amusing. “By the way, tonight’s screening is The Shawshank Redemption if you’re interested. It starts in ten.” After grabbing a drink from the fridge, he left us to it.