‘OK. Just asking.’
‘I like boys, Luke.’
‘I know, I just . . .’
‘I’m going to make a cup of tea. Do you want one?’
While Julie’s downstairs, Luke checks his e-mail. There’s one from Wei: Don’t fax details – fax broken. Send by e-mail to this address. Then he gives an address, perhaps not realising that he doesn’t need to since it’s the same address he’s sent the e-mail from.
‘You know when you asked me if I had a crush on Charlotte, ages ago?’ Julie says when she comes back upstairs.
‘Yeah – I’m so sorry about that, I just . . .’
‘No, don’t worry.’ Julie puts down her tea. ‘I sort of think I did, a bit.’
‘I never meant it in the way you thought,’ Luke says. ‘I never meant to say you were copying her or anything. I could just tell that there was something . . .’
‘Going on.’
‘Yeah, sort of.’
Julie shrugs. ‘That night, when she was over at my house . . . she said we had a special connection. I never told you that bit.’
‘You did have one, though, didn’t you? Everyone could see it.’
‘Could they?’
‘Yeah, definitely. Um . . . There’s something I never told you as well . . .’
‘What?’
‘That night.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Mark asked me directly. He said, “Is Charlotte fucking Julie?” That was when you were both over at your house. In fact, I think that’s the last thing he ever said to me.’
Julie covers her face with her hands. ‘Fucking hell.’
‘I know. I didn’t want to say because . . .’
She doesn’t move her hands but Luke can see her face is red underneath them.
‘Yeah. I know. Fucking hell. Jesus.’
‘I know.’
‘I feel a bit ill, now.’ Julie finally takes her hands away and puts them on her stomach, as though it hurts.
‘Sorry. I . . .’
‘No. I am glad you told me but . . . I didn’t think two girls could, you know, fuck.’
Luke’s embarrassed. He shouldn’t have said anything. ‘Look, it’s just an expression, isn’t it? I don’t suppose he actually meant like that. He just meant were you having a thing, or whatever. I’m only telling you because it was that obvious to everyone that you had something. There was just something intriguing about you when you were together, like you had a secret you weren’t telling anyone else.’
‘People say that about us,’ Julie says. ‘Me and you, I mean.’
‘Do they?’
‘Yeah.’ Julie thinks for a minute. ‘God, I’m totally freaked out now.’
‘Just forget it.’
‘Yuck. Mark thought that. God.’
‘Forget it, Jules. It doesn’t matter. Mark was a bit of a dick anyway.’
‘Luke!’
‘What?’
‘He’s dead.’
‘Yeah, I know. I still think he was a bit of a dick.’
Julie giggles for a few seconds then stops. ‘I never realised he thought there was something going on between us, though.’ She looks directly at Luke. ‘You do believe me, don’t you? There really wasn’t. We were just friends. And she was only a bit less fucked up and weird with me than she was with everyone else.’
‘Maybe it was just all the stuff she said when you weren’t there.’
‘Like what? What stuff?’
‘Oh, Julie’s so cool, stuff like that. She talked about you a lot.’
Julie raises her eyebrows. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah, totally. I mean, she really, really liked you.’
‘Really?’ She sighs. ‘God, all this stuff is just a bit of a mystery to me . . . I’ve never had a female friend before, so I don’t really know how it’s supposed to be. I thought it was all normal, I mean as normal as it could be with her being weird and me being . . .’
‘Weird,’ Luke finishes. He laughs. ‘You had a lot in common.’
‘We didn’t, though, really, did we? She’s the travelling, outdoors type and I’m obviously . . . well, not. Maybe that’s why I was so drawn to her. Maybe I wanted to be a bit more like her, not in the obvious ways but just, you know, to be less scared of everything.’
Luke looks at Julie. ‘I thought you were happy the way you are.’
‘Sorry?’
‘You’re always going on about how you’re the only one who’s sane and it’s everyone else that’s mad. I thought you said all your fears were logical.’
‘Yeah, they are.’ Julie shrugs. ‘It’s just if I was a different sort of person I wouldn’t use logic to dictate how I lived my life, I’d just, I don’t know, do stuff because it’s fun, or because everyone else does, or whatever. Not choose my activities based on whether or not there’s a hundred per cent chance of survival.’
Luke laughs. ‘I see what you mean.’
‘I don’t think other people think about dying as much as I do. I think they just sort of assume they’re not going to die, even if they do go in a plane or bungee jumping or whatever. They focus on the fun and maybe . . . Maybe they think the fun’s worth it, and maybe they sort of don’t really mind if they do die. If that makes sense.’
Luke fluffs up his pillows and gets comfortable lying back on the bed. ‘Sort of. How do you mean?’
‘Well, sometimes, especially when I was a kid, I’d get caught in those moments on a fairground ride or something, and it would be going really fast and it would be totally thrilling, and somehow the thought of doing something dangerous enough to kill you was exciting. It made me feel brave, and cool, and on the edge and . . . I guess all that stuff people say about “living dangerously” and everything. I do understand the attraction of that, but nowadays I just can’t let go enough to get caught in any of those moments. Now I wouldn’t go on a fairground ride because I’d look at it and realise how unsafe it is and just not physically be able to take that risk. Nowadays feeling on the edge just wouldn’t give me a thrill; it would terrify me. I guess because now I know the edge is real.’
‘But you wish you could go back?’
‘Where?’
‘Well, to a time when you didn’t think about all this.’
Julie pauses. ‘I don’t know. I think about all the things I did so easily when I was a kid. I travelled in cars with other people driving – on motorways, even – and I didn’t ever think about crashing. I used to eat fish from the fish and chip shop, and I didn’t think about bones. Of course, when you’re a kid, grown-ups are in charge and they don’t let you do anything that isn’t safe and you sort of trust them. If my dad was driving, or my mum, I’d just think they wouldn’t crash, because they were my parents, and because crashes happened to other people and . . . And I mean, when you’re a kid and your dad tells you to watch out for fish bones, you don’t even listen, because you don’t really believe someone could actually die from eating something. I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t trust grown-ups any more, maybe because I am one, and I know they’re not very trustworthy.’
Luke thinks back to the summer when Julie got her A level results. She was due to fly to Barcelona with her mum; their first holiday together since she and Julie’s dad split up. On the train on the way to meet her mum in London, Julie had just sort of freaked out. She’d rung Luke from Liverpool Street station, crying, saying something about a storm, and the train going too fast and feeling dizzy at the thought of going up in a plane. Nothing Luke said could calm her down and she came straight home – not on the fast train, but on slow, local trains, building up her journey like a spider’s web, slow, safe and time-consuming. Luke thought at the time that Julie was stressed about her exams – she’d been so totally weird through the whole exam period – and then she got her terrible results and the whole thing seemed to get worse.
The more Julie simplified her life, and the more logical and safe it all seemed, the more distance she seemed to put between herself and
the rest of the world. Of course, all Julie says is that her life is real, and that commuting a hundred miles a day isn’t real and that she likes her ‘simple’ job and her ‘simple’ life and that if everyone lived like her the world wouldn’t be so messed up.
Julie cuts into Luke’s thoughts. ‘You know the funny thing? When I was a kid, dying – or, you know, almost dying – seemed fun and kind of glamorous. It would mean time off school and a scar maybe, and loads of people asking how you are and bringing you sweets, and life not being so boring. The one thing I remember about being a kid is how structured and monotonous everything was, with grown-ups deciding everything, and having to go to school every day for like thirteen years and just thinking how good it would be for something different to happen for a change.’
‘I feel like that all the time,’ says Luke. ‘I wish something different would happen to me. I wish my life would change.’ He thinks of Wei. Could he be that change? Luke wonders briefly if now is the moment to tell Julie about Wei getting in touch, but he wants to be sure first. He knows what Julie will say anyway, if he just tells her. She’ll say the whole thing’s mad. Maybe it’ll be better if she just speaks to him directly herself tomorrow night, when he rings.
Julie looks at him. ‘You know, if I could do something to change everything for you, I absolutely would. I mean, if someone came along now and said I had to eat, I don’t know, a half-cooked chicken or something, or fly to Australia in a plane, or anything, really, and you’d be cured, I’d do it, just like that. I’d do anything to make you better.’
‘I know, Jules. I’d do the same for you.’
‘But there’s nothing wrong with me.’
‘No . . . Obviously. I just mean I would, if there was.’
Chapter 18
When Julie leaves the house for work on Tuesday morning, she sees something she’s never seen in Windy Close before: cats. One, a greyish tabby, is dancing around a tree outside number 14 trying to catch a bird. The other, small, lean and black, wanders in front of her before casually sitting down outside Luke’s house and washing itself slowly. The sky is clear and blue, which is nice, since it rained all night.
‘What on earth is going on out here?’
It’s Luke’s mother, still in her dressing gown. She’s obviously seen the cat.
Julie can tell that Jean’s pissed off. She would be, after all. Luke’s allergic to animal fur. But even if there were no cats and Jean was pissed off about something else, Julie would still be able to tell. Jean doesn’t show emotion easily but Julie can read the smallest twitch in her grey eyes; the small shake of her hands she gets when she’s worried or angry.
There’s no one else who can handle Jean really, apart from Julie. Dawn goes to bingo with her but doesn’t actually handle her very well. She drives at the speed Jean dictates and parks where Jean suggests. Jean chooses where they sit and Dawn just goes along with it. Jean’s main objective is never to sit near anyone she knows. Julie used to think that Jean was a snob who hated other people. Now Julie realises that she’s just terrified of being judged.
When Julie thinks of Jean she can’t help thinking of her in terms of the word ‘handle’. It’s not that Jean’s actually delicate, though. When Julie thinks of the way she is with Jean it’s like an animal handler: a lion-tamer or someone who works with difficult horses.
Even Charlotte could never handle Jean. Charlotte’s never been scared of anything but when she used to come and visit Luke she’d edge past his mother like she was walking on a high window-ledge in a suicide scene in a film. Jean would always look her up and down and sort of frown. ‘Old cow,’ Charlotte always used to whisper as she and Julie walked up the stairs together to Luke’s room.
But Julie can handle Jean. Julie knows how to talk to her about her favourite subjects – celebrities, illnesses, the paranormal and romance novels – and occasionally Jean will pass Julie a thick book with a wink and say: ‘Nice and steamy, this one.’ Julie never reads steamy novels but she always takes the book anyway. She likes Jean, even though no one else does.
‘What on earth . . .’ Jean says again, staring at the cat.
‘Good morning, Jean,’ Julie says.
‘Where did this cat come from? Is it a stray?’
‘I don’t know,’ Julie says.
Jean tries to shoo it away but the cat just sits there looking at her. When she stops trying to shoo it, it resumes washing itself, its back leg stuck in the air like a mast.
‘It’s got a collar on,’ Julie points out.
‘Can you read it, love? I don’t want to bend down.’
Julie bends down to read the cat’s collar. As soon as she touches it, the cat rolls on its back and starts purring. ‘There’s a phone number,’ she says. ‘It’s a Basildon code.’
‘Basildon? Leanne Straw’s cousin is coming here from Basildon, isn’t she?’
‘Oh yeah. Of course. They must be her cats.’
‘Didn’t someone tell her not to bring cats into the street? For goodness’ sake. Well you’ll have to have a thorough wash before you come round tonight. We can’t risk getting cat hairs near Luke. I don’t believe this. I’m going to phone the council.’
‘What can the council do?’ Julie says.
‘Hopefully condemn these lowlifes before they even move in.’
A man dressed in a turquoise suit walks past. ‘Good morning,’ he says.
Jean ignores him and walks back towards her house.
The Edge is flooded. When Julie gets there, David is putting sandbags against the doors, but it seems to be too late.
‘Floor tiles are fucked,’ he says cheerfully. ‘Glue dissolved.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Julie says.
‘Heather’s on the phone to Head Office. We might have to close.’
Julie looks at the sandbags. ‘Do you want a hand?’
David grabs another sandbag and drops it by the door.
‘Nah,’ he says. ‘Done now. All we need now’s a fucking ark.’
‘It isn’t even raining any more, though.’
‘Fucking pissed down last night, though, didn’t it? More coming tonight.’
‘God.’
Heather comes out. ‘Hi Julie,’ she says. ‘OK, Head Office say we can close but only while we get cleaned up. So we’re hoping to open again by tonight, or failing that, tomorrow morning. Right, um . . . Can you both help clean up inside? We need to take up all the floor tiles and sponge up the water underneath, then the tile people are coming to re-lay them this afternoon. We also need to work out what’s been ruined in the store cupboard and the walk-in, throw out the wet stuff and make a note of everything that’s been ruined so Head Office can claim it back off the insurance. And I want to know who stored all the sweets for the ice-cream machine on the floor, because you’ve been told so many times not to do that . . .’
‘Wasn’t me,’ says David, looking at Julie.
‘Or me,’ Julie says, looking at David.
‘Probably night staff,’ says David.
‘Yeah, probably.’ Heather sighs. ‘Right. Let’s get on with it. You two start with the floor tiles and I’ll start doing the stock. When you’ve finished doing the tiles, you can come and help me. Oh, also – could one of you put up a sign saying we’re opening again soon? Cheers.’
Inside, there’s a funny smell, and the floor feels sort of spongy.
‘Can’t the floor-tile people pull up the floor tiles as well as putting them down?’ Julie says. ‘This is going to take ages. I bet they’ve got special machines or something.’
‘They’re probably more expensive than us,’ David points out.
Eventually they settle down with tea towels (to go under their knees), knives (to pull up the tiles) and cappuccinos from the machine.
‘This really is going to take forever,’ David says, scraping away with the knife. ‘They’re not going to come up that easily.’
‘Is this even in our contracts?’ Julie says.
‘Proba
bly not, but we’d better get on with it.’
‘Did you lot stay long at The Rising Sun after I left last night?’
David shrugs. ‘Until last orders or something. Chantel came after you and Charlotte left.’
‘Why was Leanne there? I thought she hated The Rising Sun.’
‘She does but Chantel wanted to get some puff, and Leanne asked me if I’d get it for her so we all met up in there.’
‘What’s Chantel like?’
‘Really nice. And very hot. Everyone fancied her.’
Julie laughs. ‘Bet Leanne was thrilled about that.’
‘Yeah. Fucking hell, this tile won’t come up.’
‘Here, let me have a go.’
They both chisel away at it with a knife, but it doesn’t come up.
David puts down the knife. ‘Fuck this. Have you got any fags?’
‘We can’t go out the back now.’
‘Fuck going out the back.’
‘We can’t smoke in here, though.’
‘We’re not open, so it doesn’t matter. Fuck it.’
‘But the restaurant’s non-smoking now . . .’
‘Who cares? Come on. Even Heather smokes out here when we’re shut.’
Julie frowns. ‘Really?’
‘Oh yeah. She has one in here before we open in the mornings, while she’s doing the floats. She says the table in the office is too cluttered or something.’ David comes in earlier than Julie because he has to warm the oven and prepare pizza toppings.
‘Oh, OK then,’ Julie says, putting the knife down.
David finds a pack of Rothmans in one of his pockets and gives one to her.
‘I really should give up soon,’ he says.
Julie doesn’t know what to say for a moment. Agreeing with someone who has cancer that, yes, they should give up smoking seems a bit weird.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asks in the end.
‘OK. Still waiting to find out about my lymph nodes.’
‘Oh.’
There’s an awkward silence which is broken by Leanne coming in.
‘It stinks in here,’ she says. ‘Hello Julie, David.’
‘All right?’ says David. ‘Hungover?’
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