Cross Your Heart, Connie Pickles (19 page)

For a moment I felt like shrugging it off, but it was still warm from his body. It felt heavy and reassuring. The pockets hung down, with bits of junk and loose change. ‘My knight in shining armour,’ I said.

‘More like your knight on shining aluminium.’

I laughed, which made me choke and before I knew it I was crying again. And this time I couldn’t stop. It was raining properly now. And I just stood there sobbing, with William standing by me. He didn’t put his arm round me. He just stood there, not awkwardly, just sort of waiting. After a bit he said, ‘Shall we go somewhere?’ and I nodded and followed him. He led us back to my house and took the key from me when I fumbled at the door. We went into the hall, both soaked to the skin. He leant his bike against mine, removed his parka from my shoulders, laid it over the banisters, pulled his own sodden jumper over his head and went upstairs to get some towels. I went through into the sitting room and sat on the sofa.

I hadn’t put the lights on and it was dark in there. I heard steps coming back down. William sat next to me. He leant across me and switched on the side light. Then he handed me a piece of paper. He said, ‘Note on the stairs from the decorator.’ I read it through my wet eyelashes. It said, ‘Dear B, Gone to buy more paint. Ring you later? J xx’.

I’d seen the writing before. ‘Ring you later?’ ‘Do you believe in love at first sight?’ It was the same handwriting. I’d seen it on that mystery valentine card too – now I thought of it.

‘J’? ‘J’ for
John
. For
John Spence
.

I began to laugh hysterically. It wasn’t John Leakey that Mother had been seeing, but John Spence. Our landlord, John Spence. With the pale knees and the ‘Wotcha, kids’ and the Lycra shorts.

‘It’s John Spence,’ I said hysterically. ‘Mother’s fallen in love with John Spence!’

William had brought a towel down and had been rubbing his head. He broke off and stared at me oddly. ‘You all right?’

‘It hadn’t crossed my mind. I mean, he’s so awful!’ I started laughing again. Then I noticed William’s hair was sticking up like a hedgehog. ‘Your hair!’ I said, laughing some more.

‘Easy’ he said in a quiet voice. He put the towel over me and, clumsily, started rubbing my hair dry too. The rhythm of it made my laughter come out in jerks, and before I knew it they’d turned into sobs again.

‘There,’ he said, releasing me after a bit. ‘We don’t want you to catch a chill.’ He ran the towel round my face, like someone drawing a circle. He was being so tender I wanted to melt. ‘Now. What?’

I murmured, ‘Nothing.’

‘So what were you crying for? Why were standing out there in the rain like a tragedy queen, then?’

‘I…’

‘What?’

I didn’t know what I felt about anything any more. It took a long while for any words to come, but finally I managed to say, trying to make light of it, ‘I’ve been such a prat.’

‘Tell me, then.’

And so I did. Falteringly at first, then in a rush, it all came out. Everything I’d been bottling up and failing to face up to, all the muddle and confusion in my heart and my head. I told him about how Julie and I had matchmade Mother. About how much power we’d unleashed; how we seemed to be able to do anything we turned our hand to, and how we had created this horrible thing. I told him about Uncle Bert and how wrong for Mother he’d been; how miserable it had made me, and how cross and possessive it had made Julie. I told him that was what we’d fallen out over, that when we’d made up she’d decided John the chemist was the next on our list, and how we’d matchmade Mother and him too and… And then I cried for a bit and when I’d wiped those tears away, I told him how jealous and left out I felt. ‘And then I thought… ‘I said. My stomach gripped. The sobs were going to start again.

‘What?’ He was looking at me so sweetly, so unperturbed by my shocking disclosures, I felt I could tell him anything.

‘That I was in love with him myself.’

I caught him frown very slightly and then he looked away. I just thought he thought I was being stupid, a fourteen-year-old saying she was in love with a twenty-nine-year-old.

‘What about your mother?’ he said.

‘That’s what I mean.’ I picked up the note. ‘It was John Spence, not John Leakey, all the time.’

‘Oh, I see,’ he said.

I should have told him then how I’d thrown myself at John; what a fool I’d made of myself. How I’d been wrong about that too. But there was a funny expression on his face, like he thought I was stupid to have even imagined myself in love with someone so much older, like I was deluded. And I don’t know what came over me then – a last flash of pride after an afternoon of humiliation – but I wanted to make him think that it
wasn’t
that stupid, that it
was
possible. So I said, ‘So John Leakey’s free, after all.’ I looked away.

So did William. ‘Right.’

There was a long silence.

After a bit I said, ‘Shall we put the telly on, then?’

He said, ‘I ought to be going.’

Then I wished I
had
told him. I didn’t want him to go. I wanted to feel close to him again. He didn’t move, though, so in a small voice, I said, ‘Please don’t go.’ I wanted him to stay really badly. The thing about William is he’s so
comforting
.

His voice sounded strange, very distant. ‘Yeah. All right.’ He pressed a button on the remote control.

‘Give me a hug,’ I said. I felt lonely. That’s my only excuse. He shrugged his arm round the back of the sofa so that I could feel the dampness of his T-shirt across the nape of my neck. His fingers rested without pressure on my arm. I imagined them bridged, like someone throwing the shadow of a spider. The picture came to life on the television. Except it wasn’t the television. It was the video. My father’s tape was still in the machine.

‘It’s the Carrrrib-vod ad,’ I said.

I thought William would laugh and fiddle with the controls, but he didn’t, and we watched my father frolic on the pier with his pretend friends and then jump, carefree, young, single, dead, into the Caribbean sea. I put my head on William’s shoulder, so my tears could run off my nose into his half-wet T-shirt. When the picture dissolved into grey fuzz, neither of us moved.

‘Maybe… ‘he began after a while.

‘What?’

‘Connie, maybe the man in the chemist’s is a father figure or something.’

‘Maybe,’ I said, not looking up. I wanted his hand to grip my arm, not just rest there. I moved my face further into his chest. Under his top, it was bony and close, not firm and bulky like John Leakey’s. I blotted my wet eyes against the fabric. I’d never noticed how delicious William smelt. It was like breathing in the wind from a bike, of fresh air and sweat, of pavements and chewing gum, and something sharp like soap.

He made a sort of noise above me and I did feel his fingers tighten. I knew what would happen if I raised my head but I raised it anyway and there was his face. I didn’t notice anything about him but his eyes looking into my eyes. He said something, but I didn’t hear it and I didn’t answer because he’d moved his head down and kissed me.

It was so different to that time at the disco when the only thing I was aware of was the size of that boy’s tongue. This was proper. I don’t mean there were fireworks in my head. I didn’t feel the world spin. I just felt the softness of his lips, so gentle, and then firmer, so that I felt his teeth through his lips and then his mouth began to open and I could feel things happening inside me that I’d never felt before. My hands were deep in the dampness of his hair.

And then the television blared on. The video must have got to the end of the tape and the screen reverted to
Newsround
– with the volume up too high. We both jumped and laughed. William reached for the control and switched the sound off Then he looked at me. He gave a sort of sheepish smile. He had swivelled his body so that he was lying further back into the cushions, and his legs were up on the sofa now.

‘Oh,’ he said. His eyes were half closed. His face came closer towards me again. On it was the expression on his face that I think of as goofy. William’s goofy expression. William’s goofy about-to-snog-me expression.

I leapt up. ‘William!’ I said. ‘You’re my friend. We’re friends. Stop it. Don’t look at me like that. Get up.’

‘What?’ he said, looking dazed. ‘What do you mean?’

I was waving my arms around, shaking my head. ‘Don’t. Don’t look at me like that.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like… like…’

He put his hand out and tried to pull me down. ‘Come here,’ he said.

I yanked away. ‘No. William. We mustn’t do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘We mustn’t kiss each other.’

‘But I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages.’

‘Well, you can’t,’ I said.

His sleepy expression had begun to harden into something more resentful. He sat up. ‘Didn’t you like it?’

‘What?’

‘That. Just then. Me kissing you.’

‘No. Yes. No. I don’t know.’ All I felt was confusion and fear. Granny Enid’s always saying men take advantage of Mother. I said, ‘I was taking advantage of you. I liked it but I shouldn’t have. You’re my friend. I know you, you… you like me. I don’t want to lead you on.’

‘What do you mean?’ He was looking sullen now.

‘If you kiss me, you’ll want to go out with me. I don’t want to go out with you.’

‘What, never?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not like Delilah. I don’t want to try things out. I want to wait for The One.’

‘Right.’ His voice sounded louder than usual and more uncouth.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘I’m off, then.’

He got up and went into the hall. I didn’t follow him. I know it sounds awful, but I wanted him to leave. I heard the clank of the change in his parka pocket and the scrape of his bike, a muttered oath and the rattle of the door, the rush of the rain on the pavement, a passing car, and then a slam and he was gone.

I sank back into the cushions, in the dark sitting room. Maybe I’d have cried if I’d had any water in my tear ducts. I felt hollowed out and distant from myself, as if all the events of the afternoon, all the revelations, the humiliations and the snogging had happened to someone else. I was too confused to think about John Leakey I didn’t want to think about William. Or even Mr Spence. I just wanted to be alone. And that’s where I am still, sitting on the sofa in the dark, more miserable and confused than I’ve ever been in my life.

Tuesday 18 March

My bedroom, 4.30 p.m.

William didn’t call
for me this morning. I didn’t think he was going to, but I waited just in case. It was assembly so I ended up being late. I had to sit next to the teachers. William was at the end of a row quite near me, but he didn’t turn in my direction. His face looked rigid.

He ignored me at break and he ignored me at lunch. He even ignored me after general studies when Chloe stopped me halfway out of the classroom to say, ‘Got your euros for France yet, Connie?’ And he walked right between us as I was reminding her I wasn’t going.

I suppose I understand. I led him on, didn’t I? It was a moment of madness. And it was nice. But I mustn’t think about it. I mustn’t. In the dark hours of last night I wondered whether I’m afraid of… I can’t even say it… of sex. What if it’s awful, or I’m awful at it? I’d rather try it out with a stranger, not someone I know well, not William. It’s embarrassing for one thing. And he can’t be The One. I know him too well. I know all his faults and his stupidness – his crap French accent and the way he narrows his brows and tries to look cool when he’s feeling miserable. Julie says she loves Ade because he doesn’t try to hide how much he likes her, but it doesn’t work for me. If William liked me less I might like him more.

I’ve tried to talk to Julie. We sat on our bench at break today. It was warm sitting there; the sun was on our backs. You could hear birdsong. I didn’t mention what a fool I’d made of myself with John Leakey I have to keep that to myself forever and ever, but I brought her up to speed on Mr Spence. ‘Oh,’ she said, putting about fourteen scandalized syllables into that one word. I was encouraged by that. I began to express my horror and disgust – I think I mentioned his satin shorts – but she laughed, picked at a splinter of loose wood on the bench and said, ‘Mission accomplished.’ So I knew she wasn’t going to help me change the situation. It seems Uncle Bert is taking her and Ade to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch on Sunday. ‘Sue will probably come along too,’ she said.

I remembered Sue punching the sports bag and felt glad. I said, ‘Are they back together?’

I thought Julie might be upset, but she smiled and said, ‘Yeah. ‘Parently. He picked her up from the airport when she got back from Australia. Still, I’ve got her trained now. She knows not to mess with me.’ She was using the splinter of loose wood to carve a heart in the back of the bench. I suppose her mind’s on other things.

‘William kissed me yesterday,’ I said.

She dropped the wood. ‘No! You strumpet! You piece of work! Well?’

I told her the story, concentrating on the rain and cutting out the tears (and the reason for them).

‘Was he good?’ she said.

‘I don’t know. Julie! How can you ask that? How would I know? It was quite nice. But then he –’

‘What?’

‘He got this expression on his face, sort of lovesick.’

‘Oh.’ She smiled knowingly. She said a few things about ‘the balance of power’ in relationships, but the subject led pretty swiftly back to Ade. The Perfect Boyfriend. The Love of Her Life. The One. They’re going together to Delilah’s party on Saturday. I said, knowing that she doesn’t really like Delilah, I thought she’d have better things to do. She said it would be a laugh. And, anyway, before the party, in the afternoon, she and Ade are going shopping together, and after it they’re going to back to her dad’s – who, though Julie’s mum doesn’t know it, is away on business. And, with the flat to themselves, ‘I think we might… you know –’ She winced, tensing her shoulders at the same time.

‘What?’

‘You know.’

‘What?’

‘Do it.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes!’

People can really surprise you. I thought Julie had slept with loads of boys – well, at least Phil from the sixth-form college.

I said, trying to sound cool, ‘Haven’t you already?’

‘No! Not with… not with anyone! It’s not that I’ve been saving myself. It’s more that… I haven’t really wanted to?’ She put this like a question.

I said I understood. Maybe I’m not so far behind all my friends as I think.

‘Don’t tell anyone, will you?’ she said, suddenly squeezing my hand. I wasn’t sure if she meant I wasn’t to tell anyone that she was going to sleep with Ade, or that I wasn’t to tell anyone that sleeping with him would be her first time, but I nodded and shook my head to cover both possibilities. ‘Cross my heart,’ I said. The bell went then, and as we got up I gave her a quick hug for luck.

This afternoon on the way home I crossed the road when I got to the chemist’s. When I got in I watched the news. They had some politicians on talking about a peace process. Before I could stop myself I thought, ‘Oh, I can’t wait to talk about that with John,’ but then I remembered. Today, even from the opposite pavement, I could see a new patch of white in the window – a notice about another anti-war march, or notification of a staff vacancy?

Tanya and Marcus, Delilah’s parents, were packing up their car as I turned into our street. They’re off for a day and night’s sailing first thing tomorrow. Marcus had a squishy blue bag decorated with a pristine white anchor over his shoulder. He was wearing pink trousers and Docksiders: proper boating gear. ‘Sure we can’t tempt you this time?’ he said when he saw me. I know he was only trying to be friendly, but it’s very annoying when people – usually adults – pretend they’ve asked you something, or invited you somewhere, when they haven’t. I thought of answering, ‘Oh, OK, actually I’ll come,’ to see what he said. Instead I grinned stupidly and said, ‘I’11 let you know when my sea legs arrive.’

‘You do that,’ he said. ‘And perhaps you could get some for Delilah while you’re about it.’

We all laughed, but I could see Tanya glance anxiously back at the house. ‘Your mum says she’ll keep an eye on her, and you’ll pop in, won’t you? She’s got a lot of schoolwork but I’m worried she might be lonely’

‘Of course I will,’ I said.

Lonely! Delilah lonely! If only she knew.

I’m up in my room, with the window open. It’s still light out. It’ll be the Easter holidays soon. Everyone in the whole world is going to Paris on the French exchange. Except me. I’ll be stuck here. I’ll have to bury myself in work. Enough of love, the Library Crew beckons.

I miss William. I thought he might drop off some chocolate buttons, but he hasn’t.

Mr Spence is finishing off the tiling. A little while ago he called up, ‘Fancy a cup of Rosie Lee?’ And even though I want one, I told him he could piss right off with his Rosie Lee. Actually I said, ‘I’m fine thanks.’ What does Mother see in him? And what shall I do about it?