iBoy (24 page)

No.

Had we turned Hell into Paradise?

No.

Had we found Howard Ellman?

No.

Had we made Lucy Walker feel any better?

Perhaps . . .

Had I started to think that she was falling in love with iBoy . . . ?

Shit.

. . . wholly to be a fool

while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,

and kisses are a better fate

than wisdom . . .

E. E. Cummings

“since feeling is first” (1926)

At 19:45:37 that evening, freshly showered and dressed in clean clothes, I was standing outside Lucy’s door, with my heart beating hard, hoping that everything was going to be perfect.

I’d been busy all afternoon.

I’d got everything ready.

And now all I had to do was do it.

I took a deep breath . . .

Slowly let it out.

Then reached up and rang the bell.

I was planning on being kind of cool when Lucy answered the door. You know, like it was no big deal, I was just calling round . . . just wondering if, by any chance, you’d be interested in . . . blah blah blah . . .

It didn’t happen that way, of course.

Instead, when she opened the door and said, “Hey, stranger,” and I opened my mouth to say, “Hi,” something got caught in my throat and I started coughing and retching like a lunatic. By the time I finally managed to get some air into my lungs, my face was bright red and I was dripping sweat all over the place.

Very cool.

“Are you OK?” Lucy asked me.

“Yeah —
hack!
— yeah . . . I’m all right, thanks. Just . . .” I coughed again —
hyack!
“Just a bit of a cough, you know . . .”

Lucy smiled. “You should stop smoking your gran’s cigars.”

I grinned at her. “Yeah . . .”

She stepped back, opening the door to let me in.

“Uh, yeah . . .” I muttered, suddenly unsure how to say what I wanted to say (even though I’d been practicing all afternoon). “Listen, Luce,” I said. “I was wondering if you’d like to . . . well, you know . . . I just thought we might . . .”

“Are you coming in or not?” she said.

“Well, the thing is . . .”

“What, Tom?” She frowned at me. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing . . .” I took another deep breath, trying to calm myself down.
Just take it easy
, I told myself.
Stay calm. Just open your mouth and say it
. And that’s what I did. I looked at Lucy, opened my mouth, and said, “Do you fancy a picnic?”

She stared at me. “A
what
?”

“You won’t have to
go
anywhere,” I told her. “Well, you’ll have to go
some
where . . . but we won’t have to leave the tower.”

She shook her head. “I don’t get it . . .”

“I know . . . I mean, I know it sounds kind of strange, but it’ll be all right. Honestly . . . trust me. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

“But where . . . ?”

“I can’t tell you, can I? It’s a surprise.”

She shook her head again. “A
picnic
?”

I smiled at her. “Yeah . . . sandwiches, chips, Coke . . .”

“I don’t know, Tom,” she said anxiously. “I mean, it’s a really nice thought and everything, and it’s not that I don’t want to
be
with you . . . but, you know . . . I just . . . I just don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“Ready for what?” I asked gently.

“Anything . . . going out, being with people . . .”

“Yeah, but you won’t
be
going out,” I assured her. “And the only people you’ll be with is me. I promise. There won’t be anyone else near us. I guarantee it.”

“I don’t see how you can.”

“Trust me, Luce.”

She looked down at the floor, her face worried, her eyes sad . . . and for a moment I seriously started to doubt myself. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe I was just being selfish, thoughtless, uncaring . . .

But then Lucy said, very quietly, “I won’t have to leave the tower?”

“No.”

“And I definitely won’t see anyone else?”

“Guaranteed.”

She slowly looked up at me. “What kind of sandwiches?”

Lucy’s mum was out at work, but Ben was in, so Lucy told him that she was going out with me for a while, and that she wouldn’t be long. She put on a coat and one of those knitted woolen hats with earflaps, and then — after I’d checked to make sure that the corridor was empty — I started leading her along to the stairwell.

“All right?” I asked her.

She nodded hesitantly. “Yeah . . . I’m just a bit . . . I don’t know . . . this is the first time I’ve been out since it happened . . .”

“I know.”

She smiled at me, anxiety showing in her eyes. “Where are we going?”

I smiled back. “Follow me.”

I led her through the stairwell door and up the two flights of steps to the padlocked iron gate. I’d already been up earlier and unlocked it, so I just pushed it open, guided Lucy through to the steel-reinforced door, and locked the iron gate behind us. As I reached up to the keypad on the wall, tapped in the security code, and opened the door, Lucy gave me a puzzled look.

“Don’t ask,” I said to her. “This way.”

I ushered her into the little room, closing the reinforced door after us, and went over to the ladder on the wall. Again, I’d already been up and unlocked the hatchway, so all we had to do now was climb the ladder and we’d be out on the roof.

I looked at Lucy. “Still OK?”

“Yeah, I think so . . .”

“Are you all right with ladders?”

She looked up at the hatchway. “Does that go where I think it goes?”

“You’ll soon find out. Do you want me to go first?”

“OK.”

I climbed the ladder, pushed open the hatchway, and stepped out onto the roof, then I reached back down to help Lucy up.

“All right?” I said to her.

“Yeah . . .”

“I really like your hat, by the way.”

She grinned at me. “Do you always do this when you’re trying to impress a girl? Give her a ladder to climb, then compliment her on her choice of hat?”

“It usually works for me.”

As she reached the top of the ladder, I took her hand and helped her up through the hatchway onto the roof.

“Wow,” she said quietly, getting to her feet and looking around. “This is
amazing
. You can see forever . . . I mean, I know I’ve seen it all before, but . . .”

“It feels different up here, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah . . .” She looked at me. “You’re full of surprises, Tom Harvey.”

“I do my best,” I said.

She smiled at me.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“Why? Is there a restaurant up here or something?”

“It’s a picnic, remember? I invited you to a picnic.” I pointed toward the middle of the roof. “See?”

She gazed over at where I was pointing, and when she saw what was there, her eyes lit up and her face broke into the most wonderful shining smile. “Oh, Tom,” she cried. “That’s
fantastic
. . . it’s so
beautiful
.” She turned to me, still smiling like a child on Christmas morning. “Did you do all that for me?”

I looked over at the picnic table that I’d set up in the middle of the roof, and although it was a pretty ramshackle affair — an old foldout table and chairs I’d found in the spare room, a red and white tablecloth, a candle on a saucer, some paper cups and plates, sandwiches, chips, a big bottle of Coke, half a packet of chocolate cookies, and the remains of a fruitcake that Gram had made the week before — I had to admit that Lucy was right, it really
did
have a certain kind of raggedy beauty to it.

“Yeah,” I said, turning back to Lucy. “Yeah . . . I did it for you.” I could feel myself blushing slightly now, but I didn’t mind. “Do you really like it?”

She put her hand on my shoulder, leaned in toward me, and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “I
adore
it,” she said, looking into my eyes. “Really . . . I absolutely
love
it. Thanks, Tom.”

She kissed me again, another quick peck on the cheek, and then we just stood there for a while . . . just the two of us, high above the rest of the world, alone together in the dying light of a crimson sunset . . .

It was everything I’d ever wished for.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

It was just the two of us . . . just Lucy and me.

Just like it used to be.

Lucy smiled and said, “Shall we eat?”

I bowed my head. “If madam so wishes. Table for two, is it?”

“Please.”

“Follow me, m’lady.”

I led her over to the picnic table and held out the chair for her to sit down.

“Thank you, I’m sure,” she said.

“You’re very welcome.”

I sat down and reached for the bottle of Coke. “Coca-Cola?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”