Gone (26 page)

“You know a troop of artists all ready to work for free?”

“Nope, but I know some friends who are handy with a decorating brush.”

“Really?”

“No harm in asking.” I grab my phone and send some one-handed text messages as my other hand slides into the back pocket of her teeny tiny cut off shorts. The slight splodge on one of the trees on the wall was caused by the slip of my brush when she walked in a while back wearing just them and her bra towel drying her hair.

We have already been downstairs for what Bex called a ‘hearty breakfast of awkward silence and over cooked eggs.’ To be honest it wasn’t that bad. Bex’s parents seem to be completely accepting of the fact that I am here every day, which is a good thing considering I don’t plan to be anywhere else for the next five days. Emily most of all seems pleased that I am around and that so far today Bex hasn’t shouted at anyone or stomped about in her boots. Nope, definitely no boots. Just shit hot sexy legs and bare feet.

Speaking of little silver flower fairies, Emily walks back in and I swiftly remove my hand from Bex’s back pocket which causes her to scrunch her face.

“Here, I did this for you.” Emily hands me a small flat parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

Bex holds her hand out expectantly, “And mine?”

“You can share.” Emily grins at us and bounces a little bit on the spot before waltzing straight back out of the bedroom door.

I don
’t waste any time. I quickly unloop the string and slide off the wrapping. Inside is a piece of mounted vellum on which Emily has drawn an exquisite pencil sketch of me and Bex at the castle. That days seems ages ago. How many days ago was that? Five? Four? It feels like a lifetime.

“Wow,” Bex whispers.

“Wow.”

There was something special about that day and you can see it in the closeness of the image on the picture, the way our bodies are just ever so slightly turned towards each other, the tilt of Bex’s chin as she looks up at me, the incline of my own in response.

What was it about that day? I can’t even remember now.

Oh yes I can
.

That was the day that Bex told me about her dad finding her at that party. My fingers tighten on the frame as I recall her words and the way it made me feel the first time Rebecca Walters let me into her little cupboard of dark secrets where she hides all the stuff about herself. I remember how her story made me feel, the rage, the jealousy and the deep intense need that I wanted her all for my own. It’s fair to say that feeling has not diminished over the last week.

“Your sister is very talented.”

There is a heartbeat of silence before Bex responds, “Yeah she is.” Her voice is low and I turn a little to look down at her. Tears are lining her eyes and the bottom lip is back.

“Why are you upset?”

“I’m not.” Bex straightens her shoulders and shakes out her hair.

“Yes you are, I can see it.” I lift a finger to her face and trace along the outline of her eyes swimming in pools of unreleased water.

“I’m not upset. I’m scared.”

“What of?” I move myself in towards her a little feeling the friction in the air move between us.

“I’m scared what’s going to happen to her in a few weeks at her new school. I’m scared that I won’t be here to help her, but most of all I am scared of what impact it would have if I stayed.”

It feels like the moment and her words are weighted in something. Does she want to stay? I always thought that was never a viable option.

“
Rebecca,” I start but my words stop as her mum calls up the stairs.

“Joshua, Rebecca, your friends are here!”

Bex shakes off whatever it is she is feeling and raises an eyebrow at me. “Well it must be your friends, because I don’t have any.”

“Yes you do.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

“Are we bestest friends forever now?”

“Maybe.”

She is staring at me, the ambers burning. I know she is trying to think of something to say. “Stuck?” I prompt as she continues to fish around for some clever comeback. I start to smile a cocky grin which makes her bite her bottom lip a little bit. I wish she would stop doing that. It’s crazy sexy.

“Don’
t mind us.” Faye bashes into the room closely followed by Andrew. Painting and matchmaking, now who says I am not the perfect friend to have?

Rebecca

Frescoes and Easels

“Joshua, do you think you are fucking Michelangelo?” Faye has marched into the room and is staring at the wall in front of her, her dark shiny perfect hair falling in a wave down her back. I feel that familiar little pinch of jealousy enter my head and heart but I bolt it out, slamming all my mental doors in its face.

I turn to Joshua laughing at the idea of him assuming Michelangelo characteristics and hanging off ceilings painting upside down but Joshua isn’t laughing. He is watching Faye with caution and worry etched across his face. I flick my eyes towards the guy who walked in with Faye and find that he is watching her the same way. It doesn’t feel like anyone is breathing in the room apart from me. I am taking in huge lungful’s of air as I try and decipher the look on Joshua’s face.

That’s weird. Isn’t it?

“It’s true I prefer an easel.” Joshua shrugs, his eyes still steady on her.

“Ya, I know,” Faye glances around the rest of the room her hands on her slender hips, “It’s much better than the roses.”

I’m sorry what?

“It’s true, the roses were terrible.” The guy I have not properly been introduced to muses and turns towards me. “Hi I’m Andrew, we sort of met at the beach the other week.” He holds his hand out to me and I reach for it in mine and give it a firm shake. It’s my sole aim in life to never have a limp handshake no matter what the circumstances.

“So did you used to climb in the window too?” I ask him.

Andrew laughs, a deep sound that reverberates off the walls. “Uh no, I’m not that agile at shimmying drain pipes, although I hear that our Josh has developed quite a skill for it.”

“Apparently so.” I sound stroppy, and yet I can’t quite stop it. “So did you used to live in this room?” I turn my attention to Faye without missing a single beat. Whatever the answer, surely it’s not going to hurtle me over the edge of rational behavior? Apparently they have been friends since they were five. I guess girls and boys sit in their rooms just like girlfriends would. Trouble is, I don’t really know what friends do when they hang out. In truth, I only had one close friend my entire life. One person who could handle Naughty Rebecca Walters. I jingle my bangles and centre myself around them.

Faye holds Joshua’s eye for just a fraction too long and then lets out a laugh of her own. “There is no way I could have lived with those roses. I had the room down below.”

I gasp a little. I mean I think I’d guessed, but the confirmation tightens my chest.

“Anyway,” Faye says linking her arm through mine. “It was a long time ago.” She looks me over and smiles at what she sees, I can’t think why. My hair is all over the place and I am covered in paint. It’s my face she is reading, not my outfit. “It was a long time ago, at least it feels like it to me,” she adds.

“Whatever, that’s cool,” I say for complete lack of knowing what else to say. She must think I am a complete bitch. I haven’t managed one normal conversation with her yet.

“What shall we paint then?” Andrew asks grabbing a brush and walking towards the wall and waving it around.

“Ooh, no. Thank you, Andrew, I’ll take that.” Josh laughs as he takes away the brush and replaces it with a sandpaper and block. “You can sand the other side of the door.”

“Shouldn’t you have sanded it all before you started painting?”

“Shouldn’t you shut your face?”

Andrew takes the sandpaper heading for the door and I watch Faye’s gaze follow him as he moves.

Ah.

Josh offers me a small smile and a wink nudging his head slightly towards Andrew and Faye.

“Shut it, Josh,” Faye says when she spies his movement. “I know way too many secrets about you, don’t tempt me to spill.”

“What?” Josh raises his hands in an innocent gesture which makes me giggle. His green T-shirt is streaked with silver paint and there is also a dab on the end of one of his dreads.

Reaching my hand out I run it through my fingers feeling the familiar sensation register deep inside me. “You’re gonna have to shave them off.”

Andrew and Faye both make funny snorting noises and Josh places his hands on his hips, “Now, Rebecca Walters I have told you these beauties are a lifestyle choice and I will never lose them.” He raises an eyebrow at me, “Do I need to remind you?”

I put my hands on my own hips to replicate his combative stance. “And how exactly do you plan to do that, Joshua Adams?”

“Death by tickling.”

Faye snorts again. “Are you ticklish, Bex?”

“No of course not, I am eighteen years old, not eight.”

“Prepare to want to die,” she laughs.

Turning to ask her what she means I miss Joshua leap forward and reach his fingers for my rib cage. I can’t quite make out what else she is saying, something about farting, and laughing because I am screaming in part agony part complete hysteria as Joshua somehow manages to wiggle his deft firm fingers into the gaps between my ribs. I land on the floor with a bang but he doesn’t stop, he straddles me and carries on with the torturous tickling as I make noises I never knew I was capable off and tears of laughter escape out of my eyes.

Fuck.

Apparently I do giggle.

Later the giggling is over, and we are packing up and getting ready to head out to the shop. I’ve had so much fun. Normal fun. Well what I think could be counted as normal fun if I really knew what it was like. Emily has been back with us, safety in numbers she said when she told Faye and Andrew that all Josh and I do is snog.

I grab a cardi just in case it’s a late one and we head out the door. Joshua lingers behind and I stop to see what he is doing. He has Emily in a huge hug and is whispering something in her ear. Watching the tender moment between this stranger who is completely dominating my life and my most precious thing makes tears sting again in the back of my eyes. Shit. I can’t keep crying all the time until I leave. What would be the point?

“What did you say to her?” I ask as we pace down the stairs to catch up with Faye and Andrew who are already saying goodbye to my mum in the kitchen. Dad has left, I think the crazy giggling was too much for him.

“I told her that I think she is very talented.”

“Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me, it wasn’t hard to say, she is extraordinarily talented.”

“I know.” And I also know that the immense sense of pride that colours my tone speaks volumes.

Once out the house we stand in the sunlit street and say goodbye to Josh’s friends. Faye leans in and hugs me, taking me by surprise. “Fancy coming out tomorrow?”

I glance at Joshua who nods his head at me. “Sure why not.”

Faye looks very pleased and starts to walk down the lane with Andrew, an uncomfortable distance between their steps. I watch them with a frown on my face.

“Don’t, it’s a lost cause,” Josh says his lips close to my ear.

“Does she love him?”

“Yes.”

“Does he love her?”

“Yes.”

“Well that’s a bit dumb then isn’t it?” I look up into Joshua’s face and find his green gaze settled on me, something about his expression makes my stomach do a weird flippy floppy thing.

“Yeah that would be really dumb.”

“Good, glad we agree.” Then I turn my feet away from whatever disastrous conversation that could have been and walk towards the town with Joshua an uncomfortable step behind me.

Joshua

Paintings on a Wall

At the shop Bex’s entire body language changes. Aunt May is clearly not here. The door was locked and there was a stroppy note stuck on the glass saying the shop was closed due to unreliable staff. I left the note in the window after scrawling a smiley face on it. I then firmly shut the door again, despite the heat, in the hope that we don’t get disturbed by annoying tourists buying pencils and the awful postcards Aunt May decided to buy last year in the hope of bringing in some trade.

“So what do we do?” Bex asks. She is leaning against the counter, her long legs crossed at the ankle.

“We listen to music, drink some tea, generally bum about until it is time to lock the door at which point I am planning on taking you out on another date.” I offer with a wink. “Assuming that is okay with you?”

I don’t add the rest of my plan which is taking form in the back of my mind for later tonight. The extended plan involves removing most of her clothing with as much dexterity and reserve as I can combine and then trying to read every bit of her skin. Every mark, every blemish, every curve that I don’t already know.

I am stepping towards her to demonstrate just a little bit of my plan when the bloody annoying doorbell that I hate jangles the arrival of a customer.