‘We can put that right,’ he mutters, and without waiting for a reply, he puts his hands around her narrow waist and hoists her over his head, settling her onto his shoulders.
‘Jake!’ she squawks, looking down at him from her perch. ‘You can’t do that,’ she yells, yanking his head around by his hair so he’s looking up at her.
‘Why not?’
‘I’m too heavy, we’re too … close.’ She looks flustered, indicating where his hands are gripping her bare knees to keep her secure.
‘I carry kit and gear far heavier than you every day,’ he scoffs, tightening his grip. ‘And we’re friends, remember?’ He tries not to let any edge show in his voice.
‘But—’
‘Can you see when you’re standing on the ground?’ He gazes up at her impatiently.
‘No.’
‘Do you want to see them perform?’
‘Yes!’
‘Then shut up, Jones, and enjoy the song.’ He hears her say something under her breath, but it’s lost as the heaving, throbbing crowd join in with Coldplay’s frontman singing so eloquently.
After a moment, he feels her relax as she sways to the music. He watches the big screens at either side of the stage as the cameras pan around, filming the massive crowd and this iconic performance as everyone sings about nobody saying it was going to be easy.
Suddenly, the clouds above them, heavy with moisture, open up and send a downpour onto everyone’s heads. The audience are drenched within seconds, and people gasp and judder at the chill, but keep bopping around and singing as Chris Martin thanks them for coming to the concert and apologises for the weather. Jake can feel droplets hitting his cheeks and dripping down from his hair through his short stubble, and his scar aches with the charged atmosphere. His finger strokes Leila’s knee idly and he can feel the heat of her body around the back of his neck, down over his shoulders and over his chest.
She laughs giddily as the rain intensifies but she keeps singing and swaying. As Jake flicks a glance back to the huge screen to the right of the stage, he sees the camera is on them, showing Jake’s soaked dark hair, odd eyes, and scarred lip, with Leila on his broad shoulders. Her white T-shirt is clinging and nearly see-through, her streaming hair darkened by the rain but flaxen, and the milky pale skin, fair eyebrows, and grey eyes making her look like a fairy. They don’t look like they belong together. He is dark and she is light, like beauty and the beast. But her face is lit up with joy, and Jake doesn’t blame them for wanting to film her. She’s stunning, the beauty shining out of her.
Laughing, she points at the screen. ‘Jake! It’s us! Oh, God.’ She covers her face for a moment and then touches a hand to her sopping hair, but with a shrug lifts her hands in the air and begins singing again. The crowd around her smile and join in. The camera pans away.
A moment later, when ‘Fix You’ starts playing and the line about lights guiding you home rings out, Leila squeezes Jake’s shoulder. He wonders if she’s having the same thought as him. About the baby she lost and the comfort he tried to offer her, before he cocked it all up by kissing her.
***
Her back is damp with sweat and rainwater as he follows her inside during intermission, his hand gripping her T-shirt so as not to lose her. Her face is glowing, and he can’t keep the grin off his face. He knows they’ll have to look for the others now, but he can’t regret the time they shared, accompanied by a crowd of thousands but somehow alone together.
Spinning around, she shocks him with a quick hug, before stepping back self-consciously. ‘Thanks for having me on your shoulders. I know I was shitty about it at first, but it made all the difference. It was amazing; God, the view I had! I wouldn’t have seen anything otherwise. I hope you’re not sore?’
He makes a show of rolling his shoulders and groaning. ‘I’ll be injured for days, and will probably need surgery and heaps of back massages.’
‘Ha, ha.’ She smiles impishly. ‘No, you’re definitely enough of a lug to carry me. I could feel how strong you are. The way you picked me up!’ She eyes up his muscular shoulders and arms. ‘You must beat everyone else out in the field and on the assault courses.’
‘Well, I’m not sure about that.’
‘Jake Harding being modest, what’s the world coming to?’
‘I couldn’t say,’ he replies, nudging her out of the way of a group of lads carrying one of their own in the middle of the huddle.
‘What was your favourite song?’ she quizzes him as they make their way towards the bar.
‘“Fix You”’,’ he says as they arrive, gazing around for Owen’s shaggy head.
‘Me too,’ she agrees, nodding as she pulls her damp top away from her body.
‘It reminds me of you,’ admits Jake, looking down at her, ‘or at least it used to. I used to feel like I needed to try and fix you, but I can see that’s not the case now. You seem like you’ve got everything sorted. You’re happy, settled with a boyfriend and a job, living with your dad. You’ve fixed herself.’
She frowns and then touches a finger to the rainbow charm on her bracelet – his charm. ‘I’m sorry you felt responsible for me. I wasn’t aware I needed fixing. Was I broken then?’ But before he can reply, Leila carries on, ‘I guess there have been times when I lost my way … and you always seemed to be around to help. But if you’re asking if I’m okay, then fundamentally, yes. But it’s not all perfect, not by a long way. I don’t want to live with Dad for ever, as much as I love him. And while it’s great he’s letting me redecorate and has agreed I can paint a mural somewhere in the house, it’s not quite what I had in mind when I dreamt of a career in art. The call-centre job is slowly killing me too …’
‘No one’s life is perfect,’ Jake responds, ‘despite whatever outward appearances people try to create. And if it was perfect it would be boring, and where’s the fun in that?’
He waves a hand above his head as he catches sight of Owen in the sea of heads. Their spell is about to be broken.
‘I don’t know how you can always be so self-assured,’ she says. ‘It’s like you know everything is always going to be all right.’
‘It’s the exact opposite,’ Jakes says, surprised. ‘It comes from knowing shit is bound to happen, but if you can get through it then there’s always something better on the other side. Because there has to be.’
‘So, you’re basically saying that shit is inevitable?’
‘Yes,’ Jake says with a grin, ‘pretty much. And that’s fun too.’
Shaking her head, she grins back, her face turned up towards his. ‘Jake Harding, you are an odd one sometimes.’
‘In a good way?’
‘Well, remembering the times you jumped off Durdle Door, and a boat, I—’ Her answer is cut off as a hand snakes over her shoulder and Craig says in her ear, ‘Leila, a word, please.’
At the same time, Simone storms up with Chloe and Owen in tow, her eyes blazing. ‘What the fuck was that?’ she sneers, alcohol fumes slapping Jake straight in the face.
Yes, the spell is well and truly broken.
***
Simone’s still simmering with anger when they stop off for a late dinner at a motorway diner on the way home.
Jake sits at the table, exasperated and yearning for the night to be over. He should be on a high from the concert after how utterly brilliant it was, but instead the trip has been soured by Simone blasting him for having Leila up on his shoulders.
‘That’s the kind of thing you do with your girlfriend, not some girl from down the road,’ she’d raged. ‘You brought me along, but you’ve hardly spoken to me, and then you go off with her. And you get filmed together, looking all starry-eyed and coupled up.’
Despite being royally pissed off, and knowing she was completely over-reacting, he’d apologised and reassured her it wasn’t how it looked, and that she was seeing more than was there. Right now, it was about damage control and getting her home without any further upset to anyone. They all had to share a van.
‘So –’ Chloe pushes her half-eaten burger aside and leans forward, smiling at her friend ‘– I know it’s a few days early, but we wanted to give you this while we’re all together.’ Rooting around in her handbag, she produces a card and a small neatly wrapped present with a red ribbon on top. She pushes them both across the table and her smile widens. ‘Happy Birthday.’
‘Oh, thanks.’ Leila looks frozen, her eyes pinned to the gift. She picks it up and carefully undoes the ribbon, teasing one end of it so it undoes smoothly, before peeling the paper away to reveal a little red box.
‘We know it’s not the norm, and you usually get your charms from your mum,’ Chloe says quickly as Leila flips open the lid, casting a worried look at Owen, who squeezes her hand. ‘We just thought it would be nice to have something to remind you of the concert.’
Leila plucks the charm from the box, the musical note dangling between her fingers and shining under the harsh strip-lights of the diner. ‘Thank you,’ she says warmly, although her smile is forced, ‘it’s lovely.’
‘We all chipped in,’ Chloe rattles on.
‘Obviously it was all my idea,’ Craig brags, putting a proprietary hand on Leila’s back. ‘I know how much you love that bracelet. Even more than me,’ he guffaws, as if the idea is absurd.
Leila’s eyes flash and Jake can almost read the thought going through her mind. Who says I love you at all? Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on his part.
Chloe rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, right. Actually, it was—’
Jake jumps up, catching the edge of the table with his thighs, rattling the bottles and plates. ‘We need to set off, don’t we?’ He motions through the window to the car park.
The rest of the group mutter their agreement and stand, grabbing bags and coats, having paid when they ordered. Owen nudges Jake’s arm with his elbow as they walk to the door. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah, fine. Thanks for bringing us.’
‘No problem. Got to make the most of seeing my best mate before he flies – or, should I say, sails – off again.’
But Jake isn’t really listening to Owen’s banter. He’s tuned into a conversation going on behind them.
‘Why don’t you buy yourself charms for your bracelet?’ Simone is slurring at Leila. ‘Too expensive?’ she asks cattily, obviously questioning Leila’s financial situation. ‘You still live at home, don’t you?’
Jake can hear Leila’s indrawn breath and goes to turn around to tell Simone to shut up, but Chloe gets there first.
‘Leila has enough money to spend on charms if she wants to,’ she says sharply, ‘she just chooses not to.’
‘Why?’
‘Because my mum normally sends them to me,’ Leila replies, ‘so I don’t need to.’
‘Sends them? Why not gives them?’ Simone demands.
‘None of your bloody business!’ It’s clear Leila has run out of patience. ‘Okay?’
‘You—’
‘Come on.’ Jake turns and puts an arm around Simone’s shoulders, drawing her away. ‘Let’s get you home.’ He mouths a sorry to Leila above his date’s head.
A grateful smile curves Leila’s mouth, and he nods in acknowledgement before leading Simone to the van, talking about the concert to keep her distracted as he buckles her in. Sitting down, he notices Craig pull away from Leila’s touch when she settles next to him, and grimaces.
He and Leila don’t talk on the way home, but hours later when they park up and say their goodbyes, the way she looks at him tells Jake that something has changed between them.
Leila
December 2012
The Christmas Tree Charm
The Christmas tree is up in the corner, bedecked with turquoise and purple baubles and dripping with tinsel. It twinkles with flashing LED lights, and sits in a large red ceramic pot to hold it steady. A red velvet ribbon is fastened to its top branch rather than the more traditional gold star. I’d have preferred a real tree, but the first year we had Fleur and got one she kept spinning around beneath it rapturously, snuffling and trying to hoover the pine needles up. She obviously didn’t realise they’re toxic for dogs, and within a day Dad had to donate our gorgeous tree to a family down the road. I really can’t see the attraction of putting something sharp in your mouth, even if you think it tastes good. Mad beagle.
I look around the lounge from where I’m digging our stockings out of an ancient box. Winterberry-scented candles are dotted around the room, brightening the dark walls and ancient furniture, and covering up the smell of emulsion from upstairs. I started redecorating months ago, but have only managed to do mine and Dad’s bedrooms so far, what with work and Craig … I shudder, steering my thoughts away. The point is, it’s taken far longer than planned to create the new vision I had for our house. Even Dad’s getting impatient with me now, and he’s usually the most laid-back person going. He’s at a Saturday job, so I’m all alone. El and Chloe are both busy with their lovely boyfriends, and Edwin has given me a rare weekend off as a reward for increasing sales at the gallery. Although I’ve got Fleur’s waggy company, I can feel the sharp edge of loneliness digging into my skin, so an MTV Christmas channel is playing seasonal songs to create background noise, and the smell of cinnamon and aromatic alcohol wafts from the kitchen where mulled wine’s slowly simmering on the hob.
I’ve done everything I can to create a Christmassy spirit in the house, to make it nice and festive for us. The weather’s even joining in, the winter wind rattling the draughty windows, shimmering frost coating the leaves on the trees like they’ve been breathed on by Jack Frost. A thick carpet of snow coats the ground from where icy flakes fell and settled overnight. I’ve also been to two Christmas parties, eaten turkey with cranberry sauce and all the trimmings, and gone to a fete with Eloise, surrounded by adorable children dressed as elves, reindeer, and shepherds, running around high on excitement and sugar in the form of minty striped candy canes. In a surprising turn of events, El has swerved away from her previous career choice as a tabloid journalist to complete her PGCE on top of her English degree and become a primary school teacher. She says that life as an NQT is tough but she’s getting a lot out of it, even though the school is sort of incestuous and everyone is either sleeping with someone they work with or getting involved in other people’s business. Jonny is there calmly in the background to cheer her on, and I know she’ll be fine if the happy glow in her big blue eyes is anything to go by.
I’ve had plenty of opportunity to gear myself up for the season, but I’m not feeling it. At. All. If anything, it’s making me feel worse, as if I’m trying too hard. It’s forced and faked. I’m starting to hate Christmas and everything that comes with it. Maybe it’s because I was expecting to share Christmas Day with a boyfriend this year, looking forward to finally having someone else by my side. Don’t get me wrong, I love Dad, but it’s not the same, is it? He should have someone, and I should too. My bloody mother … Her running off is the reason Dad’s never found anyone else, and why I’m too scared to commit – apparently. At least, Craig thinks so.
Craig, it turns out, thinks a lot of things. I wince as I hear his voice spinning through my head, shying away from the accusations he threw at me before thundering out. It wasn’t a pretty scene. Two weeks have passed, and I expected him to contact me and apologise, but I’ve heard nothing and from the look of his Facebook page he’s already moved on with someone else. My nose stings and tears fill my eyes, but I blink them away as I find the padded penguin stockings and hang them together above the fireplace. Stepping back, I take in the overall scene. Yep, completely overdone. Frowning, I move toward the kitchen. Time for a drink.
There’s a loud knock at the front door and I seize upon the distraction from my brooding. ‘Fleur! Wait!’ I call as she bolts down the hallway, rolling my eyes when she ignores me as usual. She’s sitting on
the mat, eagerly waiting, pink tongue lolling out of her mouth. She always looks like she’s grinning when she does that. Bending over to grab her collar, I open the door.
‘Oh, hey, Jake,’ I say shyly.
‘Hi.’ He lifts a hand in greeting, stamping the snow from his boots. ‘Can I come in? I’m only back for a few days; can’t stay for Christmas unfortunately.’
‘Sure.’ I step back, still hanging on to Fleur, as Jake takes his boots off. I feel awkward and self-conscious, and it’s hard to talk to him, hard to know what to say. We agreed we were friends at the concert, and I felt so at ease with him that day, but I haven’t seen him for almost four months. Plus, we have so much history between us. Not to mention that kiss, when I rejected him. I wonder if I’d feel more at ease if he was home more often, if we saw each other every weekend. If I got to spend quality time with him, then maybe the strangeness I feel around him would disappear. The strangeness which only intensified when I sat on his broad shoulders listening to our favourite songs at the concert. He was so strong, and warm, and I felt so safe. But I also felt strangely jumpy too.
He clears his throat and looks pointedly down the hallway. I realise I’m just standing here staring at him.
‘Sorry.’ I let go of Fleur’s collar without thinking and she launches herself at him in delight, jumping up with her paws on his thighs, trying to get to his face. ‘Don’t—’ I start saying as he picks her up to hold her against his chest, but it’s too late. As he makes baby talk at her, she leans forward and swipes her long saliva-covered tongue right from the tip of his chin, up over his mouth and nose, halfway to his forehead. I wait for him to put her down or explode the way Craig used to, but instead he grins and screws up his face.
‘You’ve got doggy breath,’ he tells her, ‘but thanks for the kisses, Fleur.’ Adjusting his hold, he pops her under one arm so he can tickle her chin with the other hand as he walks through to the lounge. I stare at him in amazement, wondering what just happened. She obviously knows him. Maybe he visited more often than I realised when I was away at uni.
The Last Charm Page 17