by Bankes, Liz
But he also said he was going to be at home all day and he didn’t mention any trips to the library with Cleo.
Chapter 13
I don’t want to know how long it’s been since someone cleaned this doorstep. I completely forgot Dan, Arlo and Simon were all going to the cinema. And I would have got back in time if I hadn’t stopped to follow my own boyfriend to work and then waited outside to check he’d definitely gone in. Which he had.
Still, if he’d got me a key cut like he said he would then I wouldn’t be locked out anyway.
I could walk back into town and pick up Cal’s key from work. But he said he thinks Cleo will be back soon, so I should just wait. He said he’d just seen her because she left a book at home and he went to the library to give it to her before work. And I know I should be feeling guilty for even thinking I couldn’t trust him, but if I’m honest I just felt relieved.
Does that make me a bad person?
‘You’re weird!’
I know! Wait a minute – what?
A cross-looking face is poking around the side of next door’s porch. A little girl steps out. She looks about five or six and has red hair cut short with a fringe.
‘Why are you sitting outside?’ she says, eyeing me suspiciously.
‘I’m locked out,’ I reply, doing a mock-annoyed face.
‘I thought you were a burglar,’ she says, still frowning.
‘No, I do live here.’ I laugh. ‘If I was a burglar I’d be trying to get in the window.’
‘Is that what burglars do?’ comes a horrified whisper from the door. The boy is smaller and looks younger than his sister, but has the same flame-red hair. He’s peeping round the side of the porch so I can see only his eye and a bit of his face.
The girl gives a dramatic sigh and turns to the boy. ‘Yeah! Everyone knows that!’ Then she turns back to me. ‘Rory is sensitive,’ she explains.
I look round into their porch and wave. ‘Hello, Rory,’ I say, praying I haven’t just given him a lifelong fear of people appearing at his window.
Further into the house I can see a man rummaging in a rucksack. He has a child’s shoe in his mouth and looks quite flustered. He looks up, tries to speak and then takes the shoe out.
‘Hope they aren’t bothering you!’ He grins.
‘Oh, not at all!’ I call back.
I’ve just been telling your children how to burgle a house, that’s all.
The man tells me he’ll have them out of my hair in a minute – he’s just lost his keys. Cal had mentioned that the house next door had been sold. An old man called Fred had lived there before and Cal used to do his garden for him and then Fred would give Cal a beer and advice about ‘young ladies’.
‘I’m Rose,’ says the girl loudly and I turn back to her.
‘Really?’ I say. ‘My name’s Rose too! Well, everyone calls me Rosie.’ I hold my hand out to her. ‘Lovely to meet another Rose.’
She looks confused, as if no one has ever gone to shake her hand before. Which they probably haven’t. Because she is a child. I put my hand back down.
‘We’re going to the meadow,’ she says, pointing at Rory, who shrinks back into the doorway.
‘Wow, lucky you,’ I say. ‘I had a picnic there once.’
‘Oh,’ she says, not sounding particularly interested. ‘Why do you have funny hair?’
I tell her it’s because my mum’s Jamaican and Jamaican people have very curly hair. She says there is a boy in her class who is Jamaican and she is married to him. I tell her that’s nice, just as her dad comes out of the door, holding Rory’s hand.
‘He didn’t want to get married, but I made him,’ Rose says, as her dad is handing her a sunhat.
I wish all relationships were that simple.
The dad introduces himself as Steve and thanks me for keeping the kids busy as he herds them out of the front gate.
The girl calls back to me, ‘You can come round and babysit us. It’s not easy for him, being a single parent.’
‘Oh, um, okay!’ I call back as Steve shushes her and comically rolls his eyes at me. I smile and watch them walk off and then I sit back on the step. But I hear more footsteps. Loud ones, thudding on the pavement. Cal is sprinting down the road towards the house.
He skids to a halt outside the front gate and looks over at me, grinning. He holds up his keys.
‘Thought I could . . .’ He gasps for air. ‘Take my break early and make it here and back if I . . . ran!’ he says.
‘You didn’t have to do that!’ I say as he walks up the path.
‘Yeah, well.’ He pulls me to him in a hug. I feel his chest, still going up and down quickly after the running. ‘It was my fault for not getting the key done.’
He squeezes me tight. I can smell the sweat on him, but I don’t mind. Then he puts both hands on my cheeks and kisses me.
As our lips meet a feeling of electricity goes through me. My arms are around his neck and I pull myself towards him. For a moment our bodies are pressed together. He traces a finger down my neck to my collarbone. My skin feels sensitive all over and I get that deep, yearning ache for him.
We look at each other and he swallows.
‘So I think I’ve got like ten minutes left of my break . . .’
He fumbles with the key, trying to get it in the door. Then we pretty much run up the stairs and into his room. He goes towards the bed, but I pull him back by his hand and push him up against the door.
Chapter 14
Cal and Cleo are in the kitchen when I get back from my second day. As I walk in they look up. And immediately stop talking.
‘How was work?’ says Cal sympathetically. All he is wearing are his favourite shorts. The ones I bought him another pair of so that he could wear them more often. To which he said (worryingly), ‘Cool! I wear them every day already, but now they’ll be clean.’
‘It sounds awful,’ says Cleo.
‘Cal told you it turned out to be a call centre?’ I reply.
‘Oh no, I just meant having a job in general. But, yeah – shit.’
‘Were the people nice?’ says Cal.
‘Mostly. I made them tea. One of them is called Bruiser.’
‘Let’s take a trip!’ says Cal. I’ve only just noticed he’s eating out of a cereal packet. ‘Tomorrow? We could go punting again. We haven’t celebrated you moving here yet. Come on, it’ll be awesome.’
‘I can’t call in sick on my third day!’ I say.
‘Sure you can.’ Cal grins. ‘Just tell them it’s because of that accident you had. And where’s my good evening kiss?’
He leans over and kisses me with a loud ‘mwa’.
Cleo coughs.
‘Sorry. Just throwing up into my mouth. You guys carry on.’ She picks up her coffee and walks out of the room.
‘Okay, then let’s do something now!’ says Cal. He drums his fingers on my shoulder as he thinks. ‘Oh my God – I’ve thought of something awesome!’ He grins at me and then takes his phone out.
Cal goes out of the room as well and tells me I can’t listen to his phone call. God knows what he’s planning. Lately he keeps talking about this place where you can bungee jump, but I’ve managed to distract him each time he’s gone to try to book it online.
I get my own phone out. I have another group email from Gabi, who is planning a huge end-of-summer celebration party. It’s sort of for my eighteenth birthday too. She was insistent and I finally agreed because she said we’d also celebrate her birthday, which isn’t until October, but seeing as she’s organising everything I think that’s fair enough.
Radleigh Castle, the posh hotel where Gabi works and that Jamie’s family own, is being refurbished after the roof fell in and Gabi has managed to talk her boss into letting us all stay there for the weekend before it reopens to the public.
It’s going to be the four girls, plus boyfriends and girlfriends and sort-of boyfriends (Max). Gabi’s sent round the schedule of activities she’s come up with and
is asking if anyone has any ‘deathly allergies’ they’ve never mentioned before.
Cal comes back into the kitchen and tells me everything is sorted. He’s followed by Arlo, who is holding his laptop while it plays an episode of Doctor Who. He starts making a cup of tea without his eyes leaving the screen.
I tell Cal about the updates for the party weekend. I know he doesn’t have any deathly allergies – he would literally eat anything.
‘Oh and there’s a meal with my parents on the fifteenth,’ I say. ‘Like an early birthday and exams thing, assuming the results are okay.’
‘The results will be okay,’ says Cal.
‘Aren’t we doing something on the fifteenth?’ says Arlo suddenly. He still doesn’t look away from the laptop.
Cal frowns. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Oh. It was familiar for some reason.’ Arlo walks back out of the room, his laptop in one hand and his tea in the other.
Cal shrugs. And then he tells me that the ‘surprise activity’ won’t be happening until midnight. I don’t know what on earth it can be. Or if I can stay awake.
Cal seems to read my mind.
‘I’ve got some ideas for keeping you awake till then,’ he says. ‘How about a strong, intense . . . cup of coffee?’
I laugh and nod. ‘I think that will be necessary.’
He switches on Dan’s posh coffee machine.
‘How do you like it?’
‘White, please. Quite weak.’
He raises his eyebrow flirtily. ‘Is that also how you like your men?’
I put my arms round his waist. ‘Luckily for you.’
Six hours, two coffees and the entire Hunger Games audiobook later, we are standing out on the road as a man pedalling a rickshaw pulls up next to us.
‘This is Dave, part-time taxi driver, part-time rickshaw pedaller extraordinaire,’ says Cal. ‘He’s going to give us a magical mystery tour of Oxford.’
Dave nods at me. ‘Hiya, love.’ He has twinkly eyes and a big handlebar moustache.
Cal puts his arm round me as we pull away. As there are no cars around, Dave does a sweeping U-turn to head back towards town, and the rickshaw tips worryingly to the left.
I grip Cal’s arm, but smile so he thinks I’m having fun and living in the moment when secretly I’m wondering if there’s going to be a terrible accident.
I mean, obviously I am having fun, but when you’ve been the nervous kid who was scared of climbing trees, swimming and most animals and usually ended up hanging round with the teacher on school trips rather than joining in, it’s hard to shake off.
I apparently freaked out my Year Three teacher when we were watching people do cartwheels in gym and I said, ‘They will all break their necks.’
So, although I try to make myself take more risks now, I can’t quite let go of the habit of seeing the possibility of death in everything I do.
‘Woo! Rickshaw!’ shouts Cal as we speed down the road, the breeze whistling past our ears. Cal was one of the kids who spent most of his time falling out of trees and into ponds. A disturbing number of childhood photos his mum showed me were of him in A&E showing off his latest broken bone. He always looks quite happy about it though. His little brother Max was more the nervous type like me and used to trail round after Cal, reluctantly taking part in his mad ideas, like the time Cal put Max in a barrel and then rolled it down a hill and Max broke his thumbs.
I wonder if the nervous ones like me and Max always end up with the mad ones like Cal and Gabi to lead us into trouble.
Cal proves my point when he stands up as we go over the crossroads into Broad Street. And then holds out his hand to me to do the same.
Oh God.
My legs are shaking like mad, but I take his hand and slowly start to stand as the golden-looking walls of the colleges loom up around us. It will be really embarrassing if the way I die is by falling out of a rickshaw. Well, I won’t be around to be embarrassed, I suppose. But people might laugh at my funeral.
Four in the morning, and Cal has gone again. His phone might still be in his shorts.
He doesn’t have a passcode.
Dear M,
I feel like I’ve gone back to our nocturnal lifestyle. It was starting to get light again when Cal left my room, but I still didn’t want to go to sleep. I see you when I sleep. So you’d think I’d want to. But then there’s the waking up part.
I went downstairs just now, to get more coffee. The cat followed me as usual. It rubbed its head on my legs while I made the coffee and then jumped up on the table and stuck its paw in the cup. I couldn’t be bothered to make another one, so I just told the cat it was a little bastard, went into the living room and sat on the sofa. It came in and it sat on my lap. I give up.
Then all of a sudden it leapt off me and ran out of the room, scratching my legs in the process. When I looked up to see what startled it I saw Dan standing in the doorway looking majorly pissed off.
I asked him in a serious voice if he’d run out of Fairy Liquid to wash the pots with. He didn’t react to that and just asked me what I thought I was doing.
A tad dramatic.
I said that he would have to be more specific there. And he told me that he’d just seen Cal come out of my room.
When I shrugged he looked even angrier and asked me if I thought it was ‘funny’ to meddle in people’s relationships.
I thought for a moment and then told him that yeah, I thought it was hilarious.
He shook his head. And then started going off on one about how lovely Rosie is and how stressed Cal is at the moment and that I’m obviously taking advantage, etc, etc. Yawn.
While he ranted I made sure I looked amused. Just to annoy him. Then I stood up, looked at him and told him what I thought the problem was – that it was the little voice saying that he wished it was him in my room.
Arrogant, yes. But quite funny.
He did a hollow laugh and said, ‘Oh, come on!’ So I shrugged and told him that he could do a weird pretend laugh if he wanted to, but he knew I was right. And he looked right at me, his eyes sparkling in anger.
He said that I just assumed everyone wanted me.
He was inches away from me then and I saw his eyes flick down to my lips and heard his breath catch in his throat.
I laughed and told him I was just messing with him. But before he left the room (looking less angry and more confused), I asked him why didn’t he go to Cal first.
He didn’t have an answer for that. Because he knew I had a point. He hardly knows me. I could have just lied to him, whereas Cal would have told him the truth.
I left him to ponder that and went out. I could hear him pacing the room as I went into the hallway, grabbed a coat to put over my nightie and put my feet into the first pair of shoes I found.
The sun was starting to come up and was glittering through the trees.
Do you remember that time we woke up in a random field? At some point in the night we’d become tangled up and I had my arm round you and my leg on yours. I thought you’d wake up and think I was weird, but you pulled my arm tighter, so I was pressed up against your back.
I still have my swipe card. Well, I mean technically I live at the college.
A few lights were on in rooms, but otherwise the quad was in darkness. The row of archways along the far wall looked like they were morphing into different shapes.
Students may not walk, lie or sit on the grass.
I lay back and the dew on my legs made me shiver. Whenever I try to relive all the moments, they come out hollow. I can’t feel them any more.
Love you.
Cleo x
Chapter 15
‘Hello?’
‘Good morning. Is that Mr Williams?’
‘Aye, it is. Who are you, love?’
‘I’m Rosie. I was just wondering if you had two minutes to answer our lifestyle survey?’
‘I’ve got all the time in the world, my dear. My wife died two weeks ago.’
/> ‘Oh my God. I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry, dear. You didn’t kill her. And she were moaning about wanting to go for the last thirty year or so. It were what she wanted really.’
‘Oh, okay. Well, that’s – um – good. But you must miss her.’
‘Aye, she were a grumpy witch, but I did love her. What did you want to ask me, love?’
‘Well the first question was whether you were married, but you’ve answered that.’
‘You got a box for “dead wife”, have you?’
‘Ha – well, I can make one if you like.’
‘Good, good. Next question.’
‘How many times a week do you go to the gym?’
‘Twice a day. In between my wind-surfing and pole-dancing classes. You’re laughing, love, but I tell you – the Yorkshiremen Over-eighties Pole-dancing troupe has quite a reputation. True, we use zimmer frames rather than poles, but the effect is the same. You getting all this down?’
‘Yes, well, I’ve put you in the “vigorous exercise” category.’
‘Perfect. Next?’
‘Would you say your house is adequately heated?’
‘Can’t say I’ve been cold recently, love. It’s bloody summer!’
I pause.
‘Our company . . . has a range of market-leading insulation solutions guaranteed to keep any house at an optimum temperature through winter.’
‘My wife used to take care of all that – I haven’t a clue. But should I stock up now for the winter, do you think?’
‘I . . . er . . .’
Oh God.
‘My son tells me never sign up to owt over the phone. But you sound like such a lovely lass.’
Clint glances over at me as he struts round the room. He clicks his fingers and points at me. Clint has slicked back hair and what is supposed to be a moustache.
I look down at the script. And take a deep breath.
‘Well, I would strongly recommend that you . . .’
I lower my voice.
‘That you listen to your son. He sounds very sensible.’
‘That he is, love. He teaches maths.’
‘Well, those are all the questions I have. Thank you so much for completing the survey, Mr Williams.’