A Midwinter Match

by Jane Lovering

  ‘Is he going to pedal to Dublin?’ Zac whispered to me, when I told him why they were there. ‘The sea is going to be a bit of a problem, isn’t it?’

  ‘Sssh. He goes by taxi and train, but he’d bike it if he could. And he wears his bike gear all the way so nobody mistakes him for a non-cyclist. Which, to him, would be worse than drowning.’

  We stared out of the window at Cav, who was replacing the wheels we’d had to take off the bike to fit it in the boot, and adjusting the chain.

  ‘Does he meet many girls?’

  ‘A surprising number. But it’s all right, they’re all cyclists too.’ I poked my head into the kitchen, which was a whirlwind of Sophie. ‘Is it okay if Zac has the sofa again tonight?’

  ‘Mmmm? Oh, yes. Course.’ Sophie shoved an inflatable snowman into her bag, sighed, and took it out and put it in the carrier bag of school costumes. ‘Oh, Ruby, really sorry, but the landlord is putting the rent up in the New Year. I got a letter this morning.’

  ‘How much?’ I felt the snatch of panic that caught at my breathing.

  She stopped with a tin of biscuits in her hand, clearly undecided about whether they were destined for family or school, then named an amount that seemed horribly high.

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Well, he’s going to redo the kitchen, apparently, to make it worth it, and paint the bedrooms. Of course, as he says, we can always find somewhere else if we don’t like it.’

  We both laughed, hollowly. ‘I hope he’s repainting the bedrooms in solid gold and putting in a cooker that orders the food, prepares it and then cooks it for us,’ I said.

  Sophie shrugged. ‘Maybe we could turn the living room into another bedroom, get someone in to share the rent five ways? It’s probably illegal, but…’ she waved a hand at Zac, who was replacing a string of lights which had become detached from where they’d wrapped around the curtain pole and now hung limply across the window like a fallen shop sign. ‘Maybe he’d take it?’

  Well, I thought, as we all filed around the house, packing or preparing for bed, Zac might end up taking over my room, if I had to go back to Scarborough and move in with the parents. I said ‘goodnight’ to Zac and went up to stare around the tiny space of my bedroom. Zac wouldn’t even be able to have a morning stretch without punching holes in both walls beside the bed. This wasn’t so much a ‘room’, it was Jenga with furniture.

  I felt the familiar gripe in my stomach that told me the anxiety was getting a hold, that wobble in the mental walls allowing the worry to take centre stage. I couldn’t afford that raised rent. Even if I was the ‘lucky’ one who got to keep the job, things were tight enough already. I’d have to find somewhere cheaper to live, and since this had been the cheapest place available when I’d had to find somewhere last year, and now I didn’t have a car…

  Breathe.

  Distraction. I needed distraction. The reason that the panic attacks didn’t strike so often during the day was that I could find something to busy myself with, something that stopped them getting stuck in. Sometimes it didn’t work, of course, but lately I’d got better at diverting the attacks. Like an oncoming freight train of worry, during the day I could switch them to another track by finding something more immediate to sweat over. It was the darkness and relative quiet of the night that was the enemy.

  I got up from where I’d sprawled on the bed and tiptoed to the landing. Sophie, in the attic, was a series of thumps that told me she was still packing. Cav’s room was utter silence. I didn’t know whether he slept or just disconnected his chain, but he never made a sound once his door was closed. A narrow strip of light told me he was in there though.

  Downstairs was dark and silent. I crept into the hall and through to the kitchen. Pouring a glass of water would help. Maybe there was a newspaper in there that I could read, kick my mind away from the circling thoughts that hovered like vultures, ready to swoop in and pick over my entrails if I gave them chance.

  The light ticked and strobed into life, revealing the sad chaos of the kitchen. The landlord was right, it did need updating and a sensible work surface put in, but unless he was going to extend it into the garden and put a swimming pool in, it still wasn’t going to be worth what we’d have to pay for it. But then, it was worth what someone would pay and someone would cough up to have a convenient roof over their heads without having to travel in by train every day.

  ‘Can’t sleep?’ Zac’s voice made me jump. He wandered into the kitchen behind me.

  ‘I don’t know yet, I’ve only been in bed for five minutes. I just needed…’ I trailed off. Unless I needed some emergency green crepe paper, there wasn’t a lot of inspiration.

  ‘The nights are the worst.’ Zac sounded as though he was agreeing with something I’d conveyed without words. ‘When you just lie there running through all the things you can’t do?’

  I sighed and picked up some bits of silver foil. It looked as though a dog made of tinsel had wandered through and had a good shake. ‘Yes.’

  He was standing by the fridge, wearing a fleece and jogging bottoms. He looked as though he was off for a run. ‘Ruby,’ he said and then stopped.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I need to talk to you about something.’ He came towards me, his feet sticking slightly to the vinyl flooring. ‘About tomorrow.’

  I knew I had to stop him. I couldn’t bear to even think about tomorrow. About what was going to happen when Michael and the Aliens delivered their verdict. When one of us had to go. How would the one left feel about that?

  ‘Can we not talk about it, please?’ We were squeezed up together in the corner by the fridge, keeping our voices low so as not to disturb anyone who may be sleeping. ‘I can’t think about it. Not yet.’

  Zac looked down into my eyes. Whatever he saw looking back at him made his mouth twitch up at one side. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘I can understand that.’

  Beside us, the fridge purred into life.

  ‘I was going to have a drink of water.’ For some reason, my voice was thick in my throat. Zac was so close, smelling of shower gel and something dark and mysterious, like a really rich fruit cake. ‘But I’ve gone off the idea now.’

  ‘Don’t let me dehydrate you.’ He reached out a hand and very gently brushed a curl of my hair away from my face. ‘You might unravel and blow away.’

  ‘Fairly sure I won’t.’

  ‘Don’t be so prosaic, Ruby.’ The hand lingered on my cheek. ‘You make me think of cobwebs, you know that?’

  ‘Grey, dusty, full of spiders?’ My voice had gone a bit shaky now as well. His look was so direct, so heated, and his touch against my skin was making all my erogenous zones perk up and take notice.

  ‘Fragile-looking but really as strong as steel,’ he corrected me, raising his eyebrows. ‘But, yes, there’s the dusty spider thing going on too.’

  I giggled, which made me raise my internal eyebrows. I was not the giggling type, but something about the proximity of Zac, the intoxicating scent of him, the feel of his fingers on my face – it was turning me into a cartoon version of myself. If he kept this up much longer, I may even go as far as a simper.

  ‘You really aren’t used to the chat, are you?’ Zac went on. ‘Has nobody ever told you how gorgeous you are? Nobody ever kissed you in dark corners or ran down the road after you with flowers?’

  He was so close to me in that little space, with the fridge motor vibrating all down one side of me and the floor cold and tacky under my bare feet. It was like some kind of romantic fantasy suddenly materialising in Real Life Land – that mix of heady, breath-holding potential combined with the smell of stale pizza and bike oil. The closeness of him and the whispering was making this all feel rather intimate, although it was possibly the most unromantic place in the world for a tryst.

  ‘Too dusty and too many spiders,’ I half-whispered.

  ‘I know exactly how you feel.’ His voice was a whisper too. Then he leaned just that little bit further and kissed me, a
nd it was a very different kiss to the one we’d exchanged in The Shambles in the snow. This one was hot. It made my veins burn and my body expand.

  I ran my hand along the hem of his fleece and up under the edge until I could touch his skin, warm and smooth and rimmed with the bone of his ribs. Then higher, feeling the scatter of hair across his chest, spreading my fingers across the lean firmness.

  ‘Come upstairs.’ My voice was more of a growl.

  ‘Won’t the others notice?’

  ‘It’s a bike-obsessed Irishman and a primary school teacher, not The Pre-Marital Sex Obliviation Committee.’ I sounded a bit fierce now. ‘Who cares?’

  ‘Well, all right, if you’re sure.’

  Still kissing, we tacked our way across the kitchen and hallway. He let me lead the way up the stairs and then he let me lead the way from there on. He was gentle, but deft and sure and he followed my cues until the pair of us were breathless and sprawled side by side on the narrow little bed. I was pressed against the wall and he had one hand looped through the headboard to prevent himself sliding off onto the narrow strip of floor.

  ‘That was unexpected,’ he said, pulling the duvet up to cover us both. ‘But I am not complaining.’

  ‘High tension.’ I wiggled to be less flattened against the cold plasterboard. ‘The worry about tomorrow and everything else, it’s making us behave uncharacteristically.’

  ‘Oh, was that uncharacteristic?’ Zac made a comedy-disappointment face. ‘I was hoping we’d have sex like that from now on.’

  I nudged him with my elbow. ‘You know what I mean.’

  He planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. ‘Of course I do. Just, well. It was pretty good from my end.’

  ‘Yes. Yes it was. Oh, I mean from my end too. We’re surprisingly compatible in bed.’ I was gabbling, trying to cover that I didn’t really know quite what to say. Events had taken me utterly by surprise and I had no reaction ready.

  ‘But we ought to go to sleep.’ He slotted the headboard arm under my shoulders. ‘If sleep is possible in this bed. Because tomorrow is going to be tricky, and the last thing we need is to be behaving like a pair of zombies. We’ll need our wits about us at this meeting.’

  I shuddered beside him, and it wasn’t from pleasure this time. ‘I don’t want to think about it or I’ll never sleep.’

  Another soft kiss. ‘Things will be all right, Ruby,’ he whispered. ‘I promise. One way or another, things will be all right.’

  The panic made a brief resurgence and tried to snatch my breath, but my body wasn’t having it. It was just too tired. ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ I said, the words almost too heavy. ‘I really will.’

  And then I dropped into a warm pit of sleep, whilst the walls strained to keep the horrors contained.

  16

  Priya was waiting for our arrival the next morning, almost levitating with anxiety.

  ‘Michael said I was to let him know when you arrived.’ She gave me a rather sharp look. ‘I don’t think he expected you to arrive together.’

  I raised my eyebrows at her until she blushed.

  ‘Well, sorry, but Nettie and I live our lives vicariously through you.’

  ‘You both have perfectly good lives of your own.’ I couldn’t help it, I felt slightly – no, not smug, that was too rounded a description for how I felt. But when Zac, hanging up his coat over in the corner, looked at me and gave a tiny wink, I couldn’t help but feel a certain degree of comfort. After last night, after waking this morning to Zac’s arm still around me and his sleepy breath ruffling my hair, there were little twinges of hope twanging.

  Okay, the debts would still be there, whatever happened with us, but just knowing that there was someone on my side, someone who actually enjoyed my company and could find me physically attractive without ‘parping’ my boobs or shoving his hands down my top like a just-weaned baby hoping for a last chance – it was a pleasant feeling. Quiet reassurance that there was still a life for me out there.

  ‘I know, but yours is just so much more riotous. Our biggest excitement is deciding how to cook the turkey this year,’ Pri shoved a mug into my hand. ‘Tea. Make the most of it.’

  I grinned at her, despite the fact that the uncertainty was beginning to revolve in my stomach again. For all Priya’s talk about me being her equivalent of reality TV, I knew her life wasn’t as straightforwardly domestic as she made out. Her parents were resolutely traditional and had cut her off for being a lesbian; she hadn’t seen her beloved brother for two years and she had a baby niece that she’d never met. There were sadnesses in her life, but she lived for the moment and didn’t dwell on them. I wished I could be like that.

  ‘Right, better let him know, then,’ Zac said. ‘Release the hounds.’

  Priya blinked at him. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘We might as well start running now.’

  ‘Oh!’ She laughed. ‘I really hope it’s not going to be that bad. I’ve got used to having you two around.’

  ‘But you’d prefer it if Ruby stayed.’ Zac gave her a small smile. ‘It’s fine. You’ve been friends for longer, I understand. But you’d still be friends if she went somewhere else, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘We have to stay friends,’ Pri said, giving me a serious look. ‘Ruby knows too much about me to be allowed to live as my enemy.’ Then she sighed. ‘I know, we’d still see each other, someone has to come over and eat Nettie’s spinach whirl and Ruby is the only person I know who can pretend well enough. But I just don’t like change.’

  ‘Would you be happy if I kept the job?’ Zac had to bend down to see her face properly.

  ‘You’re all right, I suppose.’ Priya averted her eyes. ‘But it wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘No. No, it wouldn’t.’ The way Zac said this gave me a momentary lift in my midsection. If he were offered the job, did that mean he wouldn’t take it? But then I remembered his mother, that well-equipped hospital wing in that big, expensively decorated home. He needed this job. At least I had a supportive family and somewhere else to go. If he had to sell the family home to provide for his mother’s care, where would he live?

  The tiny glimmer of hope that I’d felt died into ashes again. There really was no way out of this one.

  Zac gave my shoulder a little squeeze. ‘One way or another, it’s going to be all right,’ he said. ‘We can do this.’

  ‘And we’re still on for Christmas, whatever happens.’ I tried to find something good, something to look forward to other than the gaping chasm opening at my feet.

  ‘Well yes. I’m far too rubbish in the kitchen to be allowed to cook my own Christmas dinner.’ Another squeeze.

  ‘At least you won’t have to contend with the spinach whirl,’ Priya said in her most depressed tone. ‘Right. I’m calling Michael. Gird your loins, whatever that means, and head on up to his office. I’ll have the coffee on for when you get back and the shouting starts.’

  She gave me a little grin, that my imagination inserted a tiny bit of sadness into as I felt my heart push its way up towards my throat. This was it. I either kept my job or I was out in the wilderness, flailing around to find employment in Scarborough, with no transport and not a whole lot of hope.

  But I’d have Zac. And as a consolation prize that rated pretty highly.

  We walked up the polished stairs to the offices without speaking. Below us, a general air of mince pies and exuberance was breaking out as everyone prepared for the last day of work before Christmas. Any exchange between departments was fraught with the risk of fruit cake and cards, Secret Santa had come into play in Reception and there seemed to be a giddiness out of proportion to our usual serious jobs. Perhaps people were just glad to be keeping their jobs into the New Year, I thought, watching the festoon of paper chains swinging in a draught along the approach to Michael’s office.

  Zac tapped on the door and we went in.

  Michael and the aliens were sitting behind the desk. I wondered if they’d got a mental force field in action in ca
se we threw things.

  ‘Sit down you two,’ Michael sounded his usual avuncular self. No hint of preference in his voice, no winks or knowing looks at either of us. ‘Coffee? Biscuits?’

  ‘No thank you.’ Zac spoke for both of us, which was fine by me. My voice had gone to hide somewhere underneath the solidity that was my heart and stomach. All my organs seemed to have fused into one complete unit and everything under my throat felt rigid. I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to sit down, but by copying Zac’s easy slide into the chair, I managed to bend in all the right places.

  All three on the other side of the desk had papers in front of them. The alien twosome held theirs with the edges square and the pile tidily stacked. Michael’s were askew as though he’d been reading through them recently.

  ‘We’ve reviewed your progress jointly and separately,’ Michael seemed to be spokesperson for this particular unpleasantness, ‘and we have to say that we’ve been very impressed with how both of you have reacted. Under the circumstances.’

  Zac threw me a wary little look. I made the tiniest ‘I dunno’ face in return, widened eyes and a twitch of the mouth.

  ‘But we have to make a decision,’ Michael went on. My heart was drilling its way downwards through my stomach. I was surprised that the whole chair wasn’t shaking. ‘It’s been very difficult, obviously.’

  He paused again, like a presenter on a TV talent show, building the tension before the final results are announced. All three were watching our faces, switching attention from Zac to me and then back again. I was sweating.

  ‘And we’d like to offer the position on a permanent basis to you, Ruby.’

  First came the flash of relief. The loosening of the tension that held all my muscles taut in that chair, so I nearly slid down onto the floor.