by Louisa Reid
‘Really, can I wear it?’
‘Well, I don’t want it. So you might as well.’ She had a smart new black overcoat and warm boots.
‘You look nice, Mum,’ I said, catching her eye with a small smile, and she nodded as if she knew.
Mum didn’t catch me twirling though, admiring in the mirror. I couldn’t jinx this. I had plans. If I saw Leo tonight, I would do something, say something. Change things. Even if he told me to get lost. It didn’t matter; at least I’d have tried. I’d tested out the words: Leo, I like you, Leo, can we – Leo, will you – Leo Leo Leo – and wondered how I’d fill in the gaps. Inside my heavy coat I was trembling already and I hugged myself still.
‘What’s the matter with you, Aud?’ Mum said. ‘You look hot and bothered. Have you got a temperature?’ I shrugged out from under her hand and cooled my cheeks with my palms. Our car smelled of spices, cinnamon and apples: Mum had spent the afternoon baking and was taking wine and a packet of sparklers too. I tried not to fidget and stared at the night ahead. Dusk had fallen in great pink and purple ribbons, the sky undulating, sweet and seductive. Now it was pitch black. I bit my bottom lip, distracting myself from the flurry in my belly, like a shoal of tiny fish were swimming, flitting and fluttering, tumbling inside.
‘Nice of Sue to invite us,’ said Mum as she parked up outside the farm gates. ‘You do me proud and mind your manners. Careful round the fire, Peter, and wear your gloves.’ She wrestled with the top button of his coat, gave up. ‘Let’s find Sue.’
The farm was lit up like fairy land. Twinkling lights glittered around the door of the barn, around the house. Lanterns swung from trees, huge glowing candles dripped in glass bowls, lining the driveway. And somewhere in all this was Leo. This was another world. Anything could happen here.
‘All right, Aud?’ Mum looked at me. ‘You’re quiet. What’s up? You feel all right?’
‘I’m fine. This is good. Thanks for bringing us.’ I smiled at her but she didn’t see; she was peering into the darkness.
‘Recognize anyone?’
‘No. Not really.’ There were lots of faces, mostly adults, some littler kids writing their names in the sky. No Lizzy. I let out my breath. Peter stuck close to my side, his hand in mine. I kept scanning for Leo.
‘Lorraine!’ Sue appeared out of the darkness, kissed Mum on both cheeks. ‘I’m so glad you came, and Peter – wonderful. Come on – let me introduce you to some of the other guests.’
Mum handed over her bag of goodies.
‘Oh, that’s lovely – really you shouldn’t have,’ Sue exclaimed and swept her away. I jammed my hand in my pocket, stared down to the lower field, where the bonfire already crackled.
‘Right,’ I said to Peter. ‘Come on.’
We wandered down towards the light. Closer, I saw Leo in the field wearing his duffle coat and wellies, navy-blue bobble hat on his head. He was messing with the fireworks, setting up a rocket. It burst into the sky, one long stream of fire, then exploded, making Peter jump.
‘Leo,’ I shouted, waving, ‘Leo, hi.’
He jogged over.
‘Hey.’ Just that word lifted me, I felt taller.
‘Hi. We came.’ Stating the obvious, like an idiot. But he didn’t say anything, just kept grinning, smiling too much for it to be normal. It made me nervous, like there was some joke here I didn’t know about. Perhaps it was all a trick. Maybe Lizzy and her pals would jump out from behind the bonfire, Halloween masks on, bundle us on to the pyre.
‘Brilliant. Here, let me get you something to drink, something to eat.’
‘OK.’
We followed him back up to the house, then stood together outside, watching everything from a distance. There were loads of people I didn’t recognize, milling everywhere, more arriving all the time, and I scanned the crowds, searching for school kids I’d need to avoid.
‘Who’s here?’
‘The world and his wife.’
‘Did you invite anyone else from school?’
‘No. I don’t think so. Sue might have done; there’s bound to be the odd one lurking around. But, you know, we’re not so friendly with the school lot.’ He pulled his hat lower, peering over his shoulder, making me smile.
‘Hah. Yeah. Well, let me know if you spot one. We can do a runner.’
‘I like the sound of that. Where’d you want to go?’
I pointed at the sky.
‘Hitch a ride on one of your rockets. Up there looks good. Peter made this incredible spaceship,’ I said, and my brother looked hopeful. ‘We should have brought that.’
‘Fantastic – Mars, then?’ I nodded. ‘Great,’ he said, ‘it’s a plan.’
We stood quiet for a bit. I shifted, tried to look as if this was easy, wondered what other stupid stuff there was to say. Anything was better than silence, standing there like two idiots, our tongues tied in knots. I felt hot and glad of the darkness so he wouldn’t see. Leo spoke first.
‘I like this one. What about you? Favourite firework? And you only get to choose one,’ he said.
‘Same. The pretty ones. Like flowers on fire.’
We were standing close. Peter wrote his name in the air with a sparkler. The smell of gunpowder, hot and smoky and sort of magic, misted the air, and when I looked at Leo he wasn’t staring at the sky any more; he was looking at me. And for a second my stomach dropped. I didn’t blink, just looked back at him, eyes wide, and the world was really clear for the first time in forever, lit up by the blazing bonfire in the distance. I hadn’t imagined it: he liked me.
We finished our food and walked back down to the field. When he put his hand out and steadied me I tried not to jump like a frightened rabbit. You’re such a dickhead, I told myself. Aud, get your shit together. And I swear I was trying, but it was hard. Because I knew this was my chance, maybe the only one.
He was standing close. His arm – I felt it, through all the layers of clothes, as if our skin were touching. My cheeks prickled. Bits of my body I hadn’t wanted to know existed were sharp and alive. On the back of my neck, on my cheeks, on my scalp, inside my jumper, up and down my legs. Like if you licked me, your tongue would fizz. He didn’t lick, but he did say my name and that meant he had more to say, that we hadn’t run out of stupid things to talk about. The words were invisible wires, running between us, spinning a web that linked us. It turned us from strangers into friends. From friends into something else.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘we can’t talk here.’ He took my hand and led me away from the fire.
‘What d’you want to talk about?’ I said. It was dark and still in the barn, smelt of fresh hay and the pony. Leo didn’t have a chance to answer: I talked more.
‘I bet Mum’s told you, hasn’t she?’ Leo didn’t bother pretending he didn’t know what I meant. ‘So what do you think? Now you know that I’m mental, like Lizzy says.’ I made little quotation marks with my fingers around the word. It was better to face it.
‘I don’t care.’ He was smiling.
‘You mean that?’
‘I do.’
‘I get depressed,’ I told him. ‘Like, properly. And I cut myself sometimes.’ I shrugged. ‘Does that make me mad?’
‘I don’t think I’m the one to say, Aud,’ Leo said quietly. ‘I think you’re lovely. That’s all. And everyone has their pain. You don’t need to be ashamed of it. And if you’re ill you can get better. That’s the thing.’
I thought about that and closed my eyes. Get better. Yes. When I looked at Leo again his eyes were on my face. It was a serious type of looking, the type that made my insides churn. I blinked, took off my glasses, rubbed my eyes, trying not to believe too hard. But Leo was fabulous. That was the only word. He reached out and took my hand.
‘Wait,’ he said, touching my face. He leant a bit closer.
‘Audrey, what d’you –’
I didn’t let him finish. Enough talk. Nothing to lose, I kissed him, suddenly brave and hopeful and stupid and sure all at once
. It started off quick; then, when he didn’t pull back, when it looked like he wanted to too, it was proper: a real grown-up kiss that I didn’t know I knew how to do. My head exploded. My skin burned. When he held me close to him I kissed harder. Fast, hurry, steal this, all of it; there might not be another chance, not ever, and I put my arms round his neck and my heart into his hands.
And then there was my name being shouted, echoing all over the night.
‘Audrey, Audrey – where are you?’ Mum. ‘Auuu-drey,’ she hollered.
Leo
Audrey ran. She kissed him and she ran, and Leo caught a glimpse of her face, full of joy and fear and horror, before she shot away and he got up to follow, still a little dizzy and shocked. He could hear Lorraine from twenty paces, her voice twanging like a guitar string, out of tune.
‘What’ve you been doing? Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking all over,’ Lorraine was complaining when Leo caught up with them, standing right outside the barn. She might have seen them. Well, so what? He wasn’t ashamed. But Audrey’s expression was hidden in the dark and Lorraine stood between them; of course, he could just push past her, grab Aud’s hand and drag her away. Kiss her like that again. All night. Apparently he had missed kissing. Not that he hadn’t had the chance, but it wasn’t something he took lightly. There had been Jecca, of course, but her mind had floated off, far away. Like he’d not been doing it quite right. And he preferred not to count Lizzy. With Audrey something had locked into place.
‘Nowhere; I was just around,’ Audrey said, and he saw Lorraine give her a look, before she turned and eyed Leo, staring him down. What was this?
‘Your brother missed you,’ Lorraine said, still watching Leo, and Audrey swung round to search.
‘Sorry; where is he?’ They scanned the drive and Leo spotted Peter with Sue, waving another sparkler.
‘He’s OK,’ Leo said. ‘Look, over there.’ Lorraine followed the line of his finger. She grabbed Audrey’s shoulder and gave her a little push.
‘Right, well, he needs the loo, Aud – go and take him.’
Audrey ran off and Leo was about to follow when he felt Lorraine’s hand on his arm. He stepped away without meaning to.
‘Leo,’ Lorraine said, but his eyes followed Audrey. ‘Leo?’ she repeated, saying his name like they were close, leaning in like she wanted him to look at her full in the face. Her eyes found his but he looked away again, searching for something to say.
‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘Yes,’ Lorraine said, sticking by him as they walked towards the makeshift bar, chattering, asking questions about his parents, about his past. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t sidestep Lorraine’s attention. And Audrey had disappeared.
‘Come on, Leo,’ Lorraine said. ‘Let’s go down the field, warm up by the fire. It’s a good one. You built it, didn’t you, you and Sue? She says you’re a good lad.’ Lorraine was smiling at him. ‘I could do with someone to help me, Leo, a bloke around. But I’ve no luck with men. My husband was a waste of space; he dumped us years ago. He couldn’t cope with Aud being sick all the time. And what with Aud’s problems, well, I don’t have time for a life of my own.’
Leo didn’t like the fact that Lorraine linked her arm through his or that she stumbled against him as they walked. When Lorraine laughed her breath was on his face, in his face, intruding.
‘You’re a good-looking lad, Leo,’ she said, examining him too close, and he gave a short laugh, surprised.
‘Thanks.’ There wasn’t much else he could say to that.
‘No wonder my Audrey fancies you,’ she confided.
Leo had no answer now. No idea what he was supposed to say under these circumstances.
‘But she’s a little girl, Leo; she’s not ready for boys. I mean, if she even started her periods, that’d be a nightmare for her.’ Her tone was low and confiding, as if inviting him to commiserate, comfort, share. No.
He released himself. Lorraine’s breathing was heavy, too close, like the lurch of her body. The oily sheen on her forehead and nose. Lipstick like a second skin, thick; her tongue running over it, fast, sticky. Leo didn’t like this, not any of it.
‘Don’t take this the wrong way or anything,’ Lorraine continued, ‘but, well, I think you should go for someone more mature.’ Leo coughed. This couldn’t be weirder. Maybe someone had spiked his drink and he was taking a crazy trip. He looked everywhere, at the sky, the night, the other faces. Not at Audrey’s mother. Her mother.
‘Well?’ she said. Clearly she expected an answer.
‘Sorry? What?’
‘How about we go for a drink, the two of us? Talk about things. About Audrey. Whatever you like. There’s a nice bar I know. I get lonely, Leo. I need to get out. Have a bit of fun. I moved for the kids, to give them a better life. But sometimes you have to think about yourself too. I mean, they’re not going to be happy if I’m miserable, are they?’
He shook his head. This was the weirdest conversation he’d ever had. If he understood right, then Audrey’s mother was coming on to him. Which was revolting. Which was, in fact, beyond foul. But she also wanted his pity, like she was trying to guilt-trip him into agreeing to this date. He plunged his hands into his pockets. Cleared his throat.
Lorraine was still waiting for an answer. He couldn’t look at her. A rocket boomed and split the sky.
‘I’m going to help with the fireworks,’ he said, and turned and raced away.
Audrey
Mum was waiting outside when I came out with Peter. We’d spent a while in the house with Mary, who was hiding from the fireworks. Peter liked to pet her and I was trying to get my head round what I’d done. I’d kissed him. What now?
‘Don’t disappear again. Right?’ Mum said. She was hot-cheeked, her breath sweet but acid. She put her arm round me, but I pulled back.
‘Yeah.’ I wriggled away. ‘All right.’
‘It’s getting late.’
‘Do we have to go?’
‘I’ll give you another half hour. This is a good do, isn’t it?’ she said, as Sue joined us and they clinked glasses. ‘We had bonfire parties, didn’t we, Aud?’
‘Did we?’ I said, searching my memory for when. My brain was like a sieve – that was the medication, Mum said, and she must have been right.
‘So. What’s going on, then?’ Mum whispered, a little later, and I nudged her.
‘Shhh. He’ll hear you.’ Leo was chatting to a group of Sue’s friends. His cheeks were pink, his eyes like coals.
‘So what? He’s a bit of a dish, isn’t he, Aud?’
‘Mum!’
‘Oh, come on. Just tell me. You know what, I reckon I wouldn’t mind. He’s like that Harry Styles, only posher and a bit more foreign-looking. My type, I reckon.’
‘Mum, don’t be disgusting. He’s nice. A friend. That’s it.’
‘I’m sure.’ She slurped at her glass, drained it. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday, Aud. I know what girls are like. And boys. At your age it’s all you think of.’
Another firework launched. Crackled and sang. Red. Amber. Green. Mum clapped, we oohed and ahhed. I looked around for Leo but he’d gone, and I wondered if it had really happened, that I’d kissed him and he hadn’t minded. He’d kissed me back. My face flashed like the sky.
In the morning Mum shouted that her head was banging. She shouldn’t have got so pissed, should she? I thought, but I took her plenty of water and a couple of paracetamol, tea and toast.
‘I’m sorry, love,’ she said, looking up, her face sore, smeary with the make-up she hadn’t cleaned off. ‘I’d had a bad week. Then too much to drink, trying to take the edge off. It never ends well.’ She groaned, then sat up and took the mug, sipped and winced.
‘Never mind, Mum. Doesn’t matter.’
‘You looked like you were having fun though.’ She put her mug down and took a bite of toast, crumbs flying.
‘Yeah. Course.’
Mum looked at me and I thought she saw som
ething good, because she smiled, before speaking through a mouthful of bread, her voice just as thick and stodgy. ‘Well, just make sure you watch yourself. I like Sue; she’s a nice woman. But that nephew. I don’t know.’ She was watching me, chewing. Her eyes were red, piggy.
‘Why?’
‘I’ve just got this bad feeling about him. He’s up himself. Thinks he knows it all.’
‘He isn’t.’
Once Mum turned against someone, that was it – they’d had it. ‘He’s a snob,’ she said. ‘I saw how he was looking at me. How you were both looking at me.’
I turned from her, wanting to get away.
‘Come here; come and sit with me.’ Mum patted the bedcovers and I sat beside her. As she sipped her tea she changed the subject, back to her shifts the week before. The little girl she’d been looking after. She was only eight.
‘Remember when you were eight, Aud? You were in hospital all that summer. And then you got that infection. What a mess that was. And last night I just couldn’t get it out of my head, how bad it had been, and how it had felt when you’d been the one lying there, so sick. So that’s why I reckon I overdid things last night. Silly, I know.’
I tried to believe her. I tried to feel sorry.
‘She’s such a pretty little thing. Annabel, she’s called. Lovely name. Looks a bit like you.’ Mum’s fingers ran through my hair, twisting strands, tying knots. I jerked my head away and flattened my hair with my hand.
‘Don’t think about it, Mum. Try not to dwell on it. I’m fine now. Maybe Annabel will be fine.’
‘But you’re not fine, are you? And nor’s she, and no amount of wishing things were otherwise helps. It’s a nightmare. That poor mother.’ She sat closer, making me hot. ‘I went over and I just held her. She was crying like it’d break your heart. Almost broke mine. I’m not cut out for this job any more, Aud. Can’t take it. I suppose that’s why I got a bit tiddly.’
‘It doesn’t matter; forget it.’
Mum kissed the top of my head, then reached for the remote. ‘I’m going to watch some TV. You go and sort out the washing for me, Aud. Clean up a bit. And no more holding hands with boys. You didn’t think I didn’t see, did you?’ She winked. Took a bite of her sandwich, attention drifting to the programme.