Me: Where are you?
Mickey: About to go in to lecture. You OK?
Me: NO! Come to my room after? Please?
Mickey: Course. With coffee?
Me: With a gun?
Mickey: You’re kidding right?!
Me: Not sure. :(
Mickey: I’ll be there xxxxx
He arrived less than fifteen minutes later.
“I thought you had a lecture?”
“Yeah, well, I thought you had a burning desire to kill someone and I didn’t want to end up a prison widow.” He hugged me and handed over a large mocha. “So, what’s up?” I told him what had happened with my tutor.
“Let’s look at the essay. Maybe it’s just a coincidence?” His good intentions were not what I needed.
“It can’t be. I wrote it by myself. Most of it whilst locked away in here. The only other people involved in writing it are Lorde and Tom Odell.” I handed it over, certain of what he would find, whilst I re-read the university warning letter, cringing that such a thing even existed with my name on it.
“So?” I asked, concerned that he was so quiet.
“It is really similar, Neve. Well, chunks of it are.”
“What? It can’t be? It’s my fucking essay!”
“Look,” he said, pointing out a section from each. Shit. They were almost identical. “And here.” He pointed out another of the highlighted paragraphs in Garrett’s essay which had the same quotations, the same line of argument, even some of the same phrasing as a paragraph in mine.
“I don’t get it. How could he do this?”
“Revenge? Because he’s a shit-faced bastard?”
“No, I mean, how could he do it? He wasn’t around when I was writing it.”
“Has he borrowed your notes? Had access to your laptop?”
“No. He copied some of my notes from a lecture, but that wouldn’t have given him access to this. I don’t get it.” I thought back through the time I had spent with Garrett. I’d never left him alone in my room so he wouldn’t have taken anything then. I would have noticed it missing anyway.
“What about your folder? Could he have taken that?” Again, I was sure he couldn’t. It was either in my room, with me, or in my bag. My bag. My heavy, book-filled bag.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.” I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid, so naïve.
“What?”
“I left my bag with Garrett in the library a couple of times. He must have copied them then.” I remembered the first time. It was raining and he’d lent me his umbrella and offered to guard my things when I went to an American Studies class. I’d thought he was being chivalrous, a gentleman, like he always claimed to be. The bastard. I’d gone along with it a couple of times, looking after his things in return when he went to a film screening. But I hadn’t gone through his stuff, had I?
“But he must have known he would get caught out? Uni has gone on and on about collusion and everything.”
“Maybe he wasn’t bothered about getting caught. Maybe that’s what he wanted.” I struggled to get my head around what Mickey was implying.
“You think he did this wanting to get caught?”
“I’m the last person to criticise your choice of friends, but he does seem a bit, well, mad. A bit prone to making very strange decisions to get what he wants. Just look at that whole Ritz thing. He’s not right in the head, Neve.”
“But he’s in trouble as well for it. She said we get the same punishment.” It just didn’t make sense.
“Yeah, but he can charm his way out of anything. If that doesn’t work, he gets Granny to pull a few strings. And if that doesn’t work, he moves to a university back home. He’s a rich kid with options. Remember, life’s not fair. Now, has he got anything else he can hold against you?”
I ransacked my brain, replaying every time I spent with Garrett, every conversation we had and found myself increasingly repulsed by the duplicity. But I couldn’t think of anything else. Maybe that was my only consolation: I was sure that there were no more things he could share, could do to mess up my life.
“How could I have got it so wrong? I thought he was a friend. I thought he was being nice.”
“He was being nice. It just changed when he realised you didn’t want what he did. And you were lonely. You’d just broken up with Jake. You hadn’t met yours truly yet,” he said with a grin. “And he was a sexy, charming American who paid you a bit of attention. There’s no point beating yourself up about it. Anyone would have fallen for it.” I wanted to do nothing more than believe he was right. But I knew better.
It’s taken some doing, but the weekend is clear. Mum is taking Grace and Josh to see relatives in London for a couple of days so I don’t need to worry about them. I was surprised at how easy it had been to persuade her to go, especially as it means leaving Dickhead here. Maybe she’ll use the break to see what life could be like in the future. Without him.
I told Bill my plans last week so we could get any jobs finished in time for me to leave promptly after work tomorrow. When he arrived to sign off my garden this afternoon, he gave me fifty quid and told me not to come to work tomorrow. As much as I want to drive down to Brighton right now, I’m sure Neve must have classes and I don’t want to mess things up for her more than I already have. Getting to know her schedule is just one of the things I need to catch up on. But I know someone who can help me out.
“You all right, Jake?” Flynn’s surprise at my call is clear. Our friendship survives on the occasional text and old-fashioned, face-to-face conversations.
“Yeah, thanks, mate. I’ve got a favour to ask. Can you find out from Cass what classes Neve has tomorrow? I’ve got the day off and I thought I’d surprise her. I’m not supposed to get there until tomorrow night.”
“Sure. Let me just text Cass.” There is a pause as he sends her the message. “Things going okay?”
“Yeah, great. It’ll be good to have a weekend with her. We’ve done so much texting and Skyping these last two weeks… well, you know how it is.”
“Forgetting that’s my sister you’re talking about, yeah, I know what you mean. You got any plans for the weekend?”
“I’m sure she’ll want to go dancing, so there will probably be a club involved. Other than that, romantic walks on a sunset beach, breakfast in bed. You know, the usual!”
“Dude! Sister, remember? Hang on, Cass has replied.” I waited as he got the details from his phone. “Right, she’s got a Lit lecture which finishes at twelve.”
“How do I find out where that is? I want to meet her there.” Just thinking about wandering around the campus, a fish out of water, makes me anxious. This is me, choosing to go somewhere which is all about everything I’m not.
“There will be an office, maybe called the academic office or student reception, something like that, and they should be able to tell you. They won’t give you her personal details but you know it’s a first-year English Literature lecture. That should be enough. Text me if you don’t get anywhere and I’ll see if Cass can find out.”
“Cheers, Flynn. I really appreciate everything you’re doing. And have done.” I don’t want to embarrass him but I am stupidly grateful that he is Neve’s brother.
“Don’t mention it, mate. Just don’t fuck up again. You hear me?” There’s no laugh behind his words. I know how seriously he means it.
“I won’t. I promise.” I promise him. I promise Neve. I promise myself.
“Good. Now don’t get funny about it, but there’s been another guy on the scene. I thought you should know before you get there. Just in case he’s around or anything.” My heart heaves into my throat and I want to be sick. There’s been someone else?
“Who? The only one she’s mentioned is the gay one, Mickey.” I’ve laughed at her stories about him and been glad for the friendship he has offered her, knowing he’s no threat.
“I don’t know all the details. Cass has been a bit cagey about it as she’s caught in the middle o
f me and Neve. All I know is he’s an American and wants, or wanted, to go out with her. I think he’s been a bit of a fuckwit about it all and she got upset. Ask her about him but don’t go all caveman, okay?”
“Umm, yeah, thanks for the advice. Speak soon.” I end the call, still fighting the urge to vomit. As much as I hate myself for thinking it, I wonder if she’s kissed him. Touched him. Made love to him. My fists burn and I punch the shit out of my pillow until the bed is a feathery mess. Better that than his face.
It’s not her fault if she has. I dumped her. It’s my fault. I cry out, frustrated that I am to blame if she has.
“You all right?” Grace asks, rushing into my room. I may have taken her advice before, but I’m not up for sharing this with her.
“Yeah, just a bit frustrated.” My stomach clenches with the understatement.
“Oh. You won’t be as frustrated after the weekend, though, will you?” Her cheeky grin tells me she means what she implies
“Grace! You’re my sister. My little sister. Go wash your mouth out with soap or something. I don’t want to hear that sort of stuff coming from you!”
“For God’s sake, I’m seventeen and live surrounded by the Internet. If you think I don’t know about that, you’re sadly mistaken! Now, what are you doing to romance Neve this weekend? I assume I’m allowed to use the R word?” I throw a handful of feathers at her before filling her in on my plans, secretly seeking her approval.
“Anyway, why are you in here? I thought you were getting your UCAS application in tonight?”
“I’m almost done. It’s just weird, you know? Once I hit ‘send’, that’s it. I’m leaving home. Leaving Mum and Josh. And you,” she adds, leaning into me.
“And that’s a good thing. It’s what we all want. You have to do it.” I’m thankful she doesn’t remind me about Mum saying those exact words to me two years ago. But this is her life. And I want it to be different to mine.
“I know. And I want to do it. It’s just kind of… scary.” I hug her to me.
“’Course it is. But it will also be amazing and wonderful and exciting. You’ve got so much talent, Grace. Being able to develop that, be around professional actors and directors, is what you need. You can’t get that here. You’ve outgrown this.” She has. When I look at her, I can see how bright her future could be. When I watch her on stage, absorbed by other people’s lives, she amazes me. “I’m proud of you, kid.” I kiss the top of her head before pushing her off the bed. “Now go and finish that form!” She blows me a kiss and waltzes out of my room.
Feeling calmer, I pick up my phone. I fight the urge to tell Neve about the change of plan, and I know if I speak to her in person I’ll end up telling her.
Me: Hi babe xx
Neve: Hi babe xx You packed?
Me: Doing it now. Got busy day tomorrow xx
Neve: But I’m worth it! Still here for 8?xx
Me: Yeah. Can’t wait! Xx
Neve: Me 2. Missed you SO much xx
Me: Not long now though xx
Neve: Want to skype?
Me: Better not. Making an early start in the morning.xx
Neve: OK :( See you tomorrow xx
Me: I’ll be there before you know it! Xx
Neve: Love you. Xx
Me: Love you more! Night Myrtle.xx
Neve: Night Jake xx
My pen made notes in my Lit lecture, but my brain hadn’t retained one iota of the content. Something about Dickens? Frankly, Dickens was the last thing on my mind. As soon as the lecture was over, I needed to get back to my room and start the deforestation essential for Jake’s arrival that evening. I’d let everything go over the last couple of weeks; after all, none of it was visible down a webcam.
Saying goodbye to Millie and making sure to stay as far away from Garrett as was possible in the same room, I made my way to the exit. It was taking people longer than usual to leave and I could feel frustration building. Didn’t they know I was a woman on a mission? No, because they were all distracted by something else. Someone else. Standing outside the door, holding a bunch of heart-shaped balloons. Remembering him doing the same thing on Valentine’s Day outside school, I grinned.
I fought my way through the group and threw myself into his arms, giving him no choice but to let go of the balloons and catch me. Gripping my legs around his waist, I leant back, oblivious to the whistles and catcalls around us, and looked up. I watched the hearts floating, playing, flirting with each other, until they disappeared into the clouds. Free.
“How come you’re here? I thought you weren’t going to be here until—” He put his hand over my mouth.
“Sshh. Let’s find somewhere more private.” He lowered me to the ground, took my hand in his and strode off in the direction of the car park. When we got there, he leaned me against the side of his van, pressing what felt like every millimetre of his body against mine. I kissed him and groaned, desperately clawing at the back of his shirt. Desperately pushing myself into him. Desperately everything.
“As much as I want to take you to your room right now, and remind myself how bloody amazing it feels to be wrapped up inside you, we are going for lunch. Get in.” He moved away and opened the door. Happy to go along with the plan, and his bossy attitude, I was a good girl and sat down. I knew my time would come.
Jake parked up close to the spot on the beach which had become so significant to us. He wasn’t to know why it had a separate, less-positive meaning to me. He unloaded a carrier bag and an old blanket from the back of the van.
“Are you going to be warm enough? I’ve got a spare hoodie here if you want it.” Taking advantage of any opportunity to surround myself in him, I took the hoodie and put it on under my denim jacket.
We carefully made our way down to roughly the same spot we had sat that dawn morning in August. Jake lay the blanket down and, once we were sat, emptied the bag to reveal a supermarket-sourced picnic of sandwiches, drinks, crisps and fruit.
The next half hour was a low-key mix of eating and chatting. There were a few people jogging or walking dogs, which meant there could be nothing more than the occasional kiss, but that was a good thing. He told me about having been thrown out of home and Bill’s kindness; it made me ache that I hadn’t been there for him. I told him about Mickey and going to Seventh Heaven. Neither of us said anything about what life had been like in the aftermath of the break-up; it was too raw, too likely to provoke upset or blame. I wondered if, how, I could tell him about Garrett.
Once the food was finished, we huddled together on the blanket, me nestled under his arm. “I love listening to your heart; it soothes me,” I said, drumming out his heartbeat with my fingers on his chest. “Da dum, da dum, da dum.”
“That’s not what I hear,” he replied, moving his hand over mine. “Myr-tle, Myr-tle, Myr-tle.”
“Oh, you smooth-talker, you. But they’re amazing when you think about it. Hearts. One muscle which keeps us alive. I can remember Dr Collins showing us one in a biology lesson. They beat a hundred thousand times a day. A hundred thousand! Imagine how many that would be in a lifetime.”
“But that’s just the science-y part of hearts. Your heart isn’t just a muscle pumping blood: it’s your essence, your spirit, all the parts which make you love. After all, without those, you might as well be dead anyway.” I kissed him for the romance and seriousness of his words, knowing we both had realised some truths about love over the last few weeks.
“Well, I heart you, Jake.”
“And I heart you, too, Myrtle.”
As we sat and watched the sea, I was aware of how much still needed to be said, to be resolved, but I had to wait until I was confident that our hearts were strong enough to cope with that. I had to believe that they would be; I couldn’t contemplate the alternative.
“Neve, before we go back to yours, I want to ask you about something.” His tone had become more serious and he shifted on the blanket so he was facing me. “About the American.” My heart sank. Not wi
th the idea of telling Jake the facts, but with what he would think of me. I already knew what I thought of me for having got caught up with Garrett and that was bad enough.
“What American?” Way to go, Neve, try to look like you’ve got something to hide. “Sorry, that was stupid. I assume you mean Garrett?”
“I don’t know what his name is. Flynn just said there had been an American interested in you.” When I finally got the courage to look up from the blanket and into his eyes, I saw all of his insecurity pooled there. It was knowing he had asked, even though he probably didn’t want to hear the answer he was expecting, which gave me the guts to tell him. Everything. Well, everything except the night Garrett pushed things too far when kissing me, less than a hundred yards from where we were sitting.
“I hate myself for admitting this. You’ll probably hate me for admitting it. But I’m glad he didn’t turn out to be the person you thought he was. Because if he had, you’d probably be with him now, not me, and I don’t think I could cope with that. I don’t want to think about him kissing you, touching you. But I’m so glad, so fucking relieved, that there wasn’t anything more than that.” He leant over and kissed me, oh-so-gently. “Because I don’t think I could live with knowing I had caused that. That I was responsible for taking what we had, what he have, and dirtying it.” His watery eyes showed me how much he meant what he was saying, how much guilt he carried with him. But I was also glad Jake was still the only person I had been with, that what we had still had some element of purity to it.
Heart Page 15