‘Smells great,’ Jake calls from the other room. ‘Any chance of a drink?’
Shaking myself out of my daze, I carry on through to the kitchen to rustle up some mugs. Finding some Christmas ones with mistletoe painted on them in the back of the cupboard, I pour some mulled wine into both, garnishing them with a cinnamon stick. If I keep making the effort, perhaps I’ll start feeling Christmassy at some point.
‘Thanks.’ He takes the warm mugs from my hands as I enter the lounge, and sets them both on the mantelpiece to cool down. Seeing the design, he lifts one eyebrow. ‘Is that a hint? Mistletoe – are you after a Christmas kiss?’ He raises both eyebrows.
‘From you?’ I snort, going red despite myself. ‘Hardly. Honestly Jake, do you ever stop?’ I shake my head. ‘I’m sworn off men for now anyway.’
‘Thinking of swapping to the other team?’ As he sits on the sofa, Fleur immediately climbs into his lap and makes herself at home. He stretches out long, muscular legs encased in jeans, and starts stroking her soothingly. Her eyelids start to droop, and she settles her snout on his upper thigh. The twinkling Christmas tree lights glint off his thick black hair and the navy cable-knit jumper shows off his mismatched eyes, the green and brown watching me intently. He looks totally at ease, and I’m sure El would say unforgivably sexy too. It’s warm and cosy in here, and I’m tempted to light the fire.
‘Nothing that radical,’ I reply, deciding against a log fire in case it’s too romantic as I sink onto the other end of the sofa. Fleur cocks open one eye and looks at me, before closing it and snuffling contentedly as Jake strokes her silky head. Traitor, I think. ‘Just taking a break from dating, that’s all.’
‘Well, I’m sure if you put a photo of your current look online they’d all be begging to take you out.’ He gestures at me, ‘Baggy blue dungarees and paint-stained hair is all the rage at the moment.’ His mouth curves as I glance down at myself.
‘Oh, I totally forgot. I was painting the spare room. I should’ve changed but got distracted.’
‘I think you look cute,’ he mocks, ‘like a little kid out at playtime.’
‘Thanks.’ Picking up a cushion I go to chuck it at him, but he tilts his head at Fleur, who’s now fast asleep. ‘You’re so lucky.’ I drop it. ‘I’ll get you next time.’ Now we’ve decided we’re definitely friends, the pressure’s off and I can mess around if I want to. I can feel at ease with him, right?
‘Looking forward to it.’ His dimple flashes in his cheek, and I momentarily forget what I was going to say.
‘Just you wait,’ I mumble in the end, realising that to an outsider it might actually sound like we’re flirting.
‘So, why are you taking a break from dating?’ Jake asks. ‘Things not working out with Craig?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘No problem.’ He raises both eyebrows and sucks in his cheeks, and, I bet, the words he wants to utter. After a moment he says, ‘So, how’s Henry?’
‘Good. Work’s still really busy, although it’s becoming harder for him to handle everything. I keep trying to convince him to take on an apprentice, but he won’t hear of it. He seems happy enough in his own way. This time of year is hard for him though. With Mum and everything, because families should be together, shouldn’t they?’
‘They should, but it’s not always possible.’ His face closes up.
‘Jake, I wasn’t getting at you. If you’re not allowed Christmas off because of your job that’s different. I’m talking about people who have a choice but choose to shun their families. And what’s worse –’ I jump up, grabbing an object from the nearby over-crammed bookshelf ‘– is this arrived this morning. And I just know it’s from her. Another charm. I recognise the envelope and typed address.’
‘Right,’ Jake replies, not moving.
‘How can she keep sending me gifts, torturing me like this?’ I wail, thrusting the envelope out towards him, the emotions of my break-up with Craig making me raw.
‘Torturing?’ He frowns, shifting slightly and making Fleur groan in protest.
‘She must know the only thing I’ve ever wanted is for her to come home – or better yet, for her never to have left. Or at least to understand why she left us the way she did. So, to keep sending me reminders of the fact that she’s out there and not here, is cruel. Especially with no explanation, or news.’
‘She can’t change the past, Jones. No one can.’
‘I was only eleven, Jake, still a kid. You can’t tell me what she did was okay. You can’t defend her.’ My voice climbs, breaking, and blood rushes to my face.
He edges forward in his seat, scooping Fleur up and sliding her gently onto the sofa cushion next to him. ‘I’m not. Of course, I’m not.’ Standing up, he comes over to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and taking the envelope from my shaking fingers. I force myself not to squirm under his touch. That would come across as rude, when he’s only trying to comfort me. ‘I’m sure she has regrets,’ he says calmly. ‘I only mean that she can’t undo it now.’ He pauses. ‘And I always thought you liked getting the charms, that they were special to you?’ His voice is rough and I’m not sure why.
Blowing out a breath, I tug on the long silvery plait hanging down over my shoulder, speckled with emulsion, and then look down at my bracelet, tracing a finger over the charms. ‘I do,’ I admit, ‘and they are. I guess I’m just in a bit of a funny mood. I just really miss her sometimes, that’s all. I can barely remember her some days. What she looked like, what she sounded like. She used to read to me at bedtime. It’s weird, but that’s the thing I miss the most.’ Glancing up, I realise how close his face is, and for the first time I register how absurdly long his eyelashes are.
His eyes darken, the brown one going nearly black and the green one becoming forest green rather than emerald, and I suck in a breath. They’re really quite beautiful, and I’m about to blurt that out when he removes his arm from my shoulders and strides towards the back door. ‘Come on, let’s get some fresh air. It’ll do you good.’
Without pausing, he flings the door open and walks out, leaving me trailing in his wake, flustered and wondering if he’s okay. Not stopping to grab my coat, I follow him into the frost-coated garden, shivering as the winter chill hits me. The grass and trees sparkle in the sunlight and my fingers itch for a pencil or charcoal. At least redecorating the house has brought back some of my artistic inspiration. I’ve started work on a very special mural.
‘Are you coming or what?’ Jake calls, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or Fleur as she suddenly appears beside me. He’s sitting on the wooden bench at the end of the garden near the apple tree, a seat I asked Dad to install last June. That corner catches the sunlight just right in the summer evenings, and I like to have a canvas out in case the creative mood hits me.
Jogging over to him, I sit down, wishing I’d thought to wear a coat after all. The bitter wind is picking up and pierces through the thin top I’m wearing under my dungarees.
‘Feeling cooler now?’
‘You could say that.’ My teeth chatter together. I bend over and hug Fleur for warmth, my breath hanging on the air in a fluffy cloud.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Jones. You’re a nightmare.’ As he stands up, I assume he’s going to go inside for my coat but instead he wrenches his jumper over his head and throws it at me, leaving him in a tight long-sleeved Superdry top. ‘Put that on.’
Not arguing because I need warmth so desperately, I try hard not to inhale his aftershave as I pull the jumper on over my head. I fail, and Jake’s scent fills my nose. Worse still is that when I’m wrapped up securely in his cable knit, I gape at the muscles I can see defined under his clinging top, before hastily glancing away. I knew he was physically fit, but … well, El and Chloe would be having heart attacks if they were here. Wow. I gulp.
‘Right, no more messing around. Open this,’ he bosses, grabbing my hand and placing the white envelope in it.
Rolling m
y eyes, I tear it open, knowing he’ll only go on at me until I do, and knowing there’s no way I’d really hold out if he wasn’t here. Of course I want to see what she’s sent me. ‘No letter,’ I say in a dispirited voice, ‘and this.’ A tiny silver Christmas tree dangles from my left hand.
He gestures for me to put in on my bracelet. ‘Come on.’
Hesitating, I suck my cheeks in, chewing on the inside of my mouth.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘It sounds silly, but what if I’m like her? What if by putting it on I become more like her?’
‘You’ve worn this for years, Jones.’ He frowns at me, his brows lowering. ‘You think that by wearing the charms you’re going to suddenly run off one day?’
‘Well, it sounds silly when you put it like that …’
‘Listen, your mum leaving is part of you, of who you are and the way you are, whether you like it or not, and you’re going to have to deal with that. But it doesn’t mean you are her, and it definitely doesn’t mean you’ll do what she did.’
‘Fine,’ I grumble, ‘I know I’m being irrational.’
‘You won’t get any argument from me,’ he jokes, taking the charm from my fingers and bending over to attach it to my bracelet.
I huff over the top of his head, but there’s something about the vulnerability of seeing his bare neck pebble with goosebumps in the cold that catches me off guard.
‘There.’ He sits up, his expression smug. ‘It looks good. It belongs on there.’
‘You can be a bit of a dick sometimes,’ I blurt.
‘Yep,’ he nods cheerfully, ‘but at least I know it. Better to be comfortable in your own skin, and accept who you are as a person, right? Besides, I don’t act like a dick very often, so I’m okay with it.’
‘Huh. Well I can tell you who is very definitively a dick most of the time.’ I bury my face in Fleur’s fur as she gets up on the seat beside me.
‘Craig?’
‘Yep.’
He leans towards me, the warm fog from his mouth dampening my cheek. ‘So, what happened?’
I don’t think about whether this is something I should share with him, I just let the words spill out of my mouth, hurt and indignation battering me. ‘Short story? He dumped me. Apparently, I was too airy-fairy, with my head always in the clouds, and never paid proper attention to him or our relationship, because even when I was with him, I was thinking about something else. He said I obviously had an issue committing because of Mum. Also, I came across as distracted and self-involved. Am I a selfish cow?’ My voice shakes.
‘No! Yeah, you can be distracted at times, but if it’s because you’re painting that’s a fair reason. You’ve got to do what you love and feel passionate about. What’s the point in any of it, otherwise? Besides, the guy was an arse. That was clear at the concert – especially trying to take credit for the music charm we all bought.’
‘He said something to upset you too, didn’t he? You never told me what it was.’
He shakes his head, ‘Doesn’t matter now.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Yes,’ he replies, ‘it’s nothing important and you have a lot on your mind. You need to concentrate on putting Craig behind you, not worry about some stupid comment he made months ago.’
‘Okay. If you’re sure.’ Drawing Fleur onto my lap because she’s shivering, I rest my cheek on the top of her head. She snuggles into me, but I can tell she’s still making moon eyes at Jake. ‘And am I? Airy-fairy, I mean? My head in the clouds?’
‘Too right,’ Jake says, ‘and that’s exactly who you should be. Besides, who wants to live with their feet on the ground all the time, when life can be so shit down here?’
I laugh, warmed at the way he’s turning Craig’s insults into one of my strengths. But the trouble is, Craig’s remarks hit too close to home in terms of the fears Dad had about me when I was thirteen, how he used to get so anxious if he thought I’d wandered off, the worries about my anger and penchant for running away. The trauma of what happened at my last school before we moved back. I can feel the patch of skin on my lower back tingling at the thought.
I shake it off. ‘This is getting far too doom and gloom. Thanks for listening and for the reassurance, but I told you I was going to get you back earlier.’ Sliding out from under Fleur, I lurch forward and scoop up some snow, twist around in one smooth motion and launch the ball at his face. It hits him smack on the nose and he shoots off the bench, eyes widening.
‘You’re dead!’ he yells, thrusting two hands into a nearby drift and throwing twin balls of ice at me. I duck and run back inside, with his shouts of ‘You’re cheating’ ringing in my ears.
Snickering as I bound into the kitchen, I tug off his jumper, not realising how close he is behind me until he thrusts a handful of snow down the back of my dungarees. ‘Argh!’ I yelp, dancing around as he laughs. Fleur bounces up and down beside us. ‘It’s freezing!’
‘Serves you right –’ he pats my back to rub it in further ‘– for taking aim at a defenceless man when he was least expecting it.’
‘Huh,’ I mutter as I undo the buttons on my dungarees so they fall around my waist, ‘you’re the least defenceless guy I know.’ Plucking the thin pink cotton top away from the skin of my back, I steal a glance down over my shoulder to see if the skin is red. It feels sore.
‘You’re fine, stop making such a fuss,’ he jokes, before falling silent. ‘What’s that?’
Before I can do anything, his fingers run over the shiny patch of skin on my lower back. Jumping away from the tingle and ignoring the heat in the pit of my stomach, I refasten my dungarees over my shoulders and straighten them over my hips. ‘Nothing, just a little burn, that’s all. I was a clumsy teenager.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘Just one of those things; it’s not important.’ Liar. But, it’s not something I like to talk about. ‘Come on, our mulled wine will have cooled down by now. Let’s drink.’
***
Twenty minutes later, after we’ve had our festive drinks and caught up about our Christmas plans, we’re in the hallway. Jake’s putting his boots back on and Fleur is whining as she watches, like she’s already sad he’s gone.
‘So, I ship out tomorrow –’ Jake straightens up ‘– and I won’t be home for a few months again. I know you’ll be pining after me, but don’t worry, I’ll be back at some point.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, whatever. I’m not Fleur.’ But despite my words, inside I’m disappointed he’s leaving so soon. We only get to spend fractured splinters of time together and despite how annoying he can be because he has a habit of calling me on my shit, he also has a way of making me feel better about things. ‘Keep sending postcards though, won’t you? I like the pictures.’
‘Sure.’ He smiles, eyes full of warmth.
‘So how does Simone feel about you not being around for Christmas?’ I ask casually.
Frowning, he grips the front-door handle. ‘Why would she care?’
‘Um, duh – girlfriends tend to care about that kind of stuff?’
He looks at me like I’ve grown horns on my head. ‘You really think I want to spend time with someone who behaves like that? I took her home after the concert, made sure she was safe, called her the next day to check she was okay, and then we agreed not to see each other again. Trust me, it wasn’t a great loss for either of us.’
‘Oh.’ He ended it with her. It makes me wonder whether I should have been strong enough to do the same with Craig. I hated the way he had a go at me for sitting on Jake’s shoulders at the concert, ranting about how I’d made him look bad on national TV, because what kind of girl sat on a guy’s shoulders when she was going out with someone else? But I shrugged off the overreaction and how possessive he was. I ignored the unease about how different we were as people. I don’t know why. It wasn’t like I was in love with him or anything. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love, and they say that when you know, you know,
right? Well, I’ve never known so I can’t have been. So why did I stay with Craig, especially given that, in all honesty, when we broke up it wasn’t a huge shock?
‘Are you in there?’ Jake raises an eyebrow, jolting me back to the present.
‘Yes, sorry. I was just thinking.’
‘I know.’ He smiles. ‘Happy Christmas, Jones, for when it gets here. Text me if you want to talk; you’ve still got my number.’ His comment reminds me of my brutal text. I blush. ‘Signal can be crap out at sea, but I’ll get any messages when we dock.’
‘Okay, thanks. Happy Christmas,’ I whisper, fighting a sudden yearning to give him a hug or a kiss on the cheek. Instead I say, ‘Take care.’
‘You too. Bye, Jones.’ His eyes gleam.
He lets himself out as I hold Fleur back from chasing after him, closing the door as his footsteps crunch in the snow down the footpath.
‘Come on, Fleur, dinner time,’ I call in a high sing-song voice, wandering into the kitchen. She follows me through but instead of panting next to her bowl with her usual excitement, she sits and gazes at me with sad brown eyes. I know exactly what she’s thinking. ‘Oh, don’t be so wet, you silly doggy, he’ll come and see you next time.’
Reaching into the cupboard, I freeze as I notice Jake’s navy jumper hanging over the back of the chair where he forgot it. But rather than return it, for some unnameable reason, I simply prepare Fleur’s food. Then, jogging up the stairs to the spare room, I pick up a paintbrush from the selection sitting in a jar of turps. The scent makes me momentarily feel sick, but I push the feeling away.
Switching on the overhead light, I stand back for a moment staring at the mural I’m working on, at the oily blues, greens, and purples, and the acrylic I’ve added in Renaissance Gold. Then, dipping my brush in Winsor and Newton’s Iridescent White, I add a patch of lighter skin to the mermaid’s lower back, over the Flesh Tint I’d painted her body with earlier. Dipping the brush in the pearlescent colour again, with a steady hand I carefully add a tiny little line to the boy’s face, just above his top lip. He is drowning in the sea beside a craggy archway but will be okay because a dazzling mermaid is rescuing him.
The Last Charm Page 18