by Paige Toon
‘When are you going?’ I don’t immediately dismiss the idea.
‘Saturday. But we could go Saturday evening after you finish work? Back Monday night?’ He looks hopeful.
‘That might work.’ It actually sounds incredibly appealing. ‘I’d have to check Nina is free.’
‘Text her now.’
‘Shall I?’
‘Yeah, go on,’ he urges.
I hesitate, but then get out my phone, trying to sort through my jumbled thoughts. Is this a good idea? It feels like a good idea. But is it? I can’t think why it wouldn’t be. We’d be able to share travel costs to and from the airport, for a start.
I text Nina, not expecting her to reply anytime soon, but before I can put my phone back into my bag, it buzzes.
Her reply is one word: YES!
‘She’s keen,’ I tell Sonny.
‘Really?’ He’s delighted.
‘Yeah.’ I show him the text. But then my phone buzzes again. I check the display.
‘Oh,’ I say aloud.
‘What?’
‘She’s remembered her boyfriend’s sister is staying next weekend.’
‘Crash at mine,’ he offers.
‘Have you got a spare room?’
‘No, but I’ll sleep on the sofa.’
We stare at each other for a few seconds before I return my attention to my phone. ‘Shall I suggest it?’ I don’t sound as casual as I’d like to.
‘Yes.’
That would be brilliant! Nina texts. She’s leaving Sunday anyway, so you could always stay that night!
I fill Sonny in.
‘Great!’ He seems glad to have the company. ‘I’ll look into flights tomorrow.’
‘Okay.’
I text Nina to say I’ll keep her posted and try to push aside the niggling feeling that I’ve jumped into this too quickly. There’s time to back out, if I want to.
I take a sip of my drink and peer through the window into the restaurant, wondering how much longer we’ll have to wait for these pizzas. When I look at Sonny, he’s gazing past me at the market place, and then his expression abruptly changes from relaxed to horrified. He scrapes his chair out from the table and I register the simultaneous sound of gasps of alarm from people nearby, but before I can ask Sonny what’s wrong, he’s bolted towards the market place. I twist in my seat in time to see him reach the road and crouch down over a figure.
Has someone been hit?
I get to my feet and run towards him. A small crowd of people has gathered, but they’re keeping their distance, and when I reach Sonny, I see a girl in her early twenties, with matted auburn hair and baggy, misshapen clothes sitting on the kerb. A cyclist nearby has dismounted.
‘She walked straight out in front of me,’ the cyclist is saying.
He’s only young – probably a student. He seems stunned.
Others are attending to him, but Sonny is focused on the girl on the ground – I think she might be homeless.
‘Are you hurt?’ Sonny asks her, his hands on her shoulders.
‘I didn’t see him,’ she mumbles, dazed.
‘Can someone get her a sweet tea?’ Sonny asks the crowd.
‘I’ll go,’ a middle-aged woman volunteers.
I kneel down beside them. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask her.
She nods. ‘I didn’t see him,’ she repeats.
Sonny turns to me. ‘She literally stepped onto the road and he hit her.’
‘What’s your name?’ I ask.
‘Mel.’
It occurs to me that there might be something wrong with her peripheral vision. This could be caused by several things: glaucoma, head trauma, detached retina or even eye stroke. When I was in India, we treated a middle-aged man with the latter, but he came in so late to us that there was little we could do to save the sight in his right eye. This meant that he could no longer work, which was incredibly traumatic for him and his family. It’s something I still think about to this day.
‘Can you look at me for a moment, Mel?’ I ask. ‘Keep looking at me.’ I hold my finger up between us and move it around to the left-hand side of her face. ‘Can you see my finger out of the corner of your eye?’
She nods.
I move it round to the other side. ‘Can you see it now?’
Again, she nods.
I do the same thing, moving my finger up and down. To my relief, she passes this basic test, but she’s not out of the woods yet.
I repeat the same test, this time asking her to follow my finger, and then ask her to read a poster in the market.
She squints and concentrates, but to no avail.
‘When was the last time you had an eye test?’ I ask, thinking she almost certainly needs glasses.
She shrugs. ‘Can’t afford it.’
‘You can get one free on the NHS,’ I point out with a frown.
‘You need to be registered for benefits,’ she replies, and now there’s an edge of sardonic impatience creeping into her tone. ‘I don’t have an address, let alone a bank account.’
‘I’m an optician,’ I explain as she continues to stare at me defiantly. ‘I’ll give you a free eye test, but do you think you can get to my practice? It’s in Newnham, so it’s not too far to walk.’ I describe where we are, hoping Umeko won’t mind. ‘Come in this week if you can. You might have to wait for a bit, but we’ll definitely sort something out. Okay?’
She nods, her expression softening. She makes to get to her feet so Sonny helps her to stand up.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asks.
‘A bit bruised, but I’ll be fine.’ She gives him a small smile of gratitude.
‘Want something to eat? We have pizza coming?’ he offers affably.
‘No, I’ve got to go.’
‘Here’s your tea!’ the volunteer from earlier calls out, hurrying across the road from the market place with a takeaway cup.
I hear Mel mumble a thank you as she takes it, and then she makes her way slowly along the footpath.
Sonny watches her leave with a frown. He meets my eyes and sighs, resigned, before nodding towards the restaurant. At that moment, our server exits the building with a stack of takeaway boxes. She comes to a stop at our empty table and looks confused before catching sight of us and smiling with relief.
We wander back to the canoe without saying much, but I can’t stop thinking about the way Sonny was with Mel – the gentle human kindness radiating from him.
Whatever he’s done, however much he currently struggles to like himself, he’s a good man at heart. I truly believe that.
Chapter 16
‘I can’t believe you almost gave these away,’ Matilda jokes, polishing off her third slice of pizza.
We filled them in on what happened.
‘Is that true?’ Sonny asks me. ‘That you can’t get free eye care if you’re not getting benefits? What about all the other homeless people out there? What do they do?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admit, feeling bad that I’m so clueless.
‘Maybe there’s a charity that deals with that sort of thing,’ Matilda conjectures.
‘If there’s not, there should be,’ Sonny says. ‘But it does seem crazy that they can’t walk into an optician and make an appointment.’
‘I wonder if she’ll come and see you,’ Matilda muses.
‘I’m not hopeful,’ I reply, glancing at Sonny. ‘Are you?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replies thoughtfully.
A few moments pass without anyone speaking and then Sonny crumples his empty can in his hands.
‘Are we out of beer?’ he asks Archie.
‘Yeah, sorry, mate,’ Archie replies.
‘I completely forgot to bring some. I might nip to the offie. Anyone else want anything?’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Archie offers.
‘Actually, I could do with a bathroom break,’ Matilda says. ‘Hannah?’
‘I’m fine. I’ll look after the boat.’
/> We’ve moored up outside the Wren Library and have been eating our pizzas on the grassy bank. I’m not sure dogs are allowed here, or even if we’re allowed here, but no one has told us off yet. It’s an idyllic spot – St John’s gleaming white ‘wedding cake’ building can be seen through the trees on the other side of the river and, behind me, the uniform windows of the Wren Library are reflecting the evening sun.
When the others leave, I lie down and gaze up at the cloudless blue sky. It’s after eight o’clock but there’s still so much daylight. The longest day of the year is fast approaching.
Summer solstice . . .
From out of nowhere I’m hit with a memory from my childhood. I’m lying on my back in a field full of grass and the sky is everywhere, a wide expanse of twilight blue taking up almost all of my peripheral vision. From somewhere off in the distance, I can hear my name being called, but I don’t answer. I’m totally alone, and I feel empty.
*
The memory is still playing on my mind when Sonny, Archie and Matilda return. I’m sitting upright again, absentmindedly twirling my silver bracelet around my wrist.
‘We’re all set!’ Matilda calls, lifting up another bottle of Prosecco.
‘I’m going to be off my face,’ I warn, forcing my hands apart.
‘Who has to work tomorrow?’ she replies with a giggle. ‘Come on, back in the boat. Let’s paddle up towards Silver Street. Sonny has been telling us about this book he’s been reading,’ she adds as I clutch the bank, trying to keep the boat steady so everyone can climb in. ‘Can I sit next to you? The boys want to look macho.’
Archie and Sonny exchange long-suffering looks.
‘Sure.’ I edge across to make room for her. ‘So what’s this about a book?’ I ask when everyone is seated except for Bertie. I have one hand firmly on her collar so she’d better not be thinking about going anywhere.
‘It’s a book about eye contact,’ Matilda says as the boys use their paddles to push us off from the side.
‘It’s not a book about eye contact,’ Sonny corrects her patiently. ‘It’s a book about stress. Evelyn recommended it,’ he explains to me over his shoulder.
He’s at the front, facing forward, and Archie’s at the back, behind Matilda and me as we sit side by side on the central bench seat.
‘Do you want to tell her?’ Matilda asks as they begin to propel us forward.
‘No, go on,’ he insists.
‘It’s a book about stress and depression and anxiety and part of it talks about the importance of doing something meaningful with your life. Right?’ she checks with Sonny.
‘Spot on,’ he replies, continuing to paddle.
‘What’s it called?’ I ask.
Matilda stares at the back of Sonny’s head.
‘The Stress Solution,’ he answers.
‘There’s this bit in it about eye contact,’ Matilda continues, removing the foil around the neck of the bottle. ‘An exercise this guy— Dr who?’
‘Rangan Chatterjee,’ Sonny chips in.
‘An exercise he was asked to do that involved him staring into a stranger’s eyes.’
‘I’m always staring into strangers’ eyes,’ I point out, letting Bertie’s collar slip through my fingers as she settles at my feet.
‘This you have to do for five minutes,’ Matilda says, handing me our glasses to hold so she can fill them up.
‘Five minutes straight?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ she confirms.
‘I’d get the giggles,’ I say, then, because I can’t resist, add: ‘Wouldn’t you, Sonny?’
He chuckles. ‘Yep. I probably would.’
‘Is this an insider joke?’ Matilda asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer before excitedly saying, ‘Let’s try it!’
‘You want to stare into a stranger’s eyes for five minutes?’ Archie asks, baffled.
‘No, you dimwit, I want to stare into your eyes for five minutes. Apparently, you experience a strange connection with the other person or something. I don’t know. It sounds interesting.’
‘What, and I’m supposed to stare into Sonny’s eyes?’ I ask, alarmed.
‘Yeah! Come on, it’ll be fun,’ Matilda urges. ‘Guys, pull up under the Bridge of Sighs.’
‘You can’t simply pull up under the Bridge of Sighs,’ Sonny mutters as we glide towards the beautiful stone covered bridge. ‘We might be able to find somewhere to stop a bit further on though.’
‘Wait, are we doing this?’ I’m surprised that he’s up for it.
‘Why not? Dr Rangan Chatterjee says everyone should try it,’ he adds glibly.
Really? All right then.
We find somewhere to moor up. Bertie is snoozing, but I attach her lead to the bench seat to be on the safe side.
Matilda giggles as she stands up and steps over our central bench, settling down on the other side so she’s facing Archie.
‘This is so weird,’ I hear him mutter as Sonny checks that Matilda is seated before turning around himself.
We laugh at each other when we’re face to face.
‘I agree with Archie,’ I say. ‘But I am intrigued. You wouldn’t normally make eye contact for more than a few seconds.’
‘Unless you’re having sex,’ Matilda points out.
‘I keep my eyes closed,’ I reply.
‘Me too,’ Sonny admits.
‘You haven’t shared meaningful eye contact during sex?’ Matilda asks us with astonishment.
‘I haven’t had meaningful sex,’ Sonny retorts.
Matilda turns around to look at us both so purposefully that the boat violently rocks.
‘Steady on,’ Sonny chides, placing his hands on either side of the canoe to maintain his balance.
‘You’ve seriously never stared into anyone’s eyes when you’ve had sex?’
‘No!’ I exclaim.
She’s oddly flummoxed. I’m not sure what the big deal is.
‘Are we doing this or what?’ I’m growing impatient with the Spanish Inquisition.
‘You have to sit with your knees touching the other person’s,’ Sonny directs.
The boat rocks as we get into position.
‘How will we know when our five minutes are up?’ Archie asks.
‘Ah,’ Sonny remembers. ‘I need to set a timer.’
He taps away at his watch.
I’ve pushed the fabric of my skirt off to the side and I’m hyper aware of the point where our bare skin is connecting. There’s warmth seeping from him and the soft, curly hairs on his legs are tickling my knees.
He looks at me and butterflies come to life in my stomach.
‘Okay?’ he asks.
I nod.
‘Close your eyes.’
Why are we doing this again? Oh, that’s right, because I’m drunk.
‘Now open them,’ he says.
A jolt goes through me at the sight of his brilliant blues. He was wearing his sunglasses earlier and I hadn’t noticed that he’d taken them off.
Only a few seconds pass before we both get the giggles, but this time it’s even more uncomfortable because we’re not supposed to look away.
Matilda tells us to shoosh – she’s taking it more seriously.
I try to suppress my smile and a short while later, Sonny’s lips stop tilting upwards at the corners and his mouth relaxes.
Whoa. This is quite full on. I’ve never been locked in a stare like this before.
His eyes are beautiful. There’s a navy ring around the rim of his irises and wavy lines extend outwards from his pupil, made up of different shades of blue. They remind me of water rippling in sunlight.
His pupils are neither fully dilated nor constricted but somewhere in between.
What are you thinking? I wonder and at that moment, his pupils dilate a little more. My butterflies pick up speed, my breathing becoming shallower. The urge to avert my gaze becomes unbearable, agonising even. My eyes widen with the effort of continuing this prolonged contact and his pupils c
onstrict again.
He blinks and looks down, and I feel a surge of relief, but then he gently reinstates eye contact and I find it hard to breathe.
He purses his lips and the tension eases slightly, then he leans towards me a couple of inches and I retreat. His mouth curves up and I realise he’s teasing me. I smile and raise an eyebrow, leaning towards him. If we’re playing this game, I intend to win.
We’re less than a foot away from each other. I could count his lashes if I wanted to.
His eyes dart between mine and then his gaze settles and his stare suddenly feels very intense.
I’m profoundly aware of our knees touching and the craving for more contact is like an itch I can’t scratch. His gaze drifts downwards to my lips, but he sharply reinstates our eye connection. His pupils are fully dilated. My butterflies whip themselves from a whirlwind into downright dangerous hurricane territory.
Holy shit, I want to kiss him.
My eyes widen and his do too. He retreats slightly to put more distance between us, but it only makes me want to close the gap. It takes an immense amount of willpower to hold back.
I try to focus on thinking about his eyes, the colour of them, the way his pupils have pushed out some of the waves of blue. I think about how no one else has ever stared into his eyes like this.
And then the thought slams into me that he is not the only person who’s stared into my eyes, and a darkness, a blackness, washes over me, pressing down on me.
I break the eye contact, but not before I see shock flash across Sonny’s face.
His watch timer goes off.
Matilda breathes out one word: ‘Yes!’
And Sonny and I glance at each other and away again. I feel oddly shivery and then I think it dawns on us both at the same time that Archie and Matilda are snogging each other senseless.
‘You mean it?’ I hear Archie whisper as they pull apart.
I turn to see Matilda staring at him, her eyes shining.
‘What’s going on?’ I can’t help but ask.
‘Archie’s asked me to marry him,’ Matilda says in a voice thick with emotion. ‘And I’ve said yes.’
Chapter 17
Condensation retreats from the glass like vapour trails fading behind an aeroplane in the sky, a ghostly mist that vanishes bit by bit to reveal the girls in the mirrored cabinets. The left-hand cabinet is slightly ajar, so two faces stare back at me, their green-golden eyes penetrating and accusatory.