One of Us (32 page)

Afterward, I get out of bed and I go down to the kitchen to burn the pictures in the sink. Oskar will never see them now. I go back to bed even though it's so early and I lie awake with my eyes closed, remembering the pictures in the darkness. My hands smell of smoke.

I can't bear another dinner like that.

Now I can't sleep. I get up and pad over to the wardrobe. I open the drawer and feel around in the dark. Right at the back I find something soft and old. As I pull it out, sand dusts across my fingers. I get back into bed and curl up under the covers with Greg's baseball cap under my chin. Nobody will see. It smells of summer.

H
E GAVE ME
his cap on my last day there . . .

He was wearing it, sitting on the bench in the garden. I paused in the open doorway, watching him and listening to the beads on the side of the
blind as they ticked lazily against the window.

Greg looked around, his face lighting. “You're up early.”

I went over to sit down beside him, but he pulled me onto his knee instead. His arms were cold from the breeze, in spite of the sun. I brushed little kisses all over his face, to remember every detail, and he laughed at me.

“Do you mind going to the beach, all of us together?” he said. “Mom wants us to have a picnic.”

“I don't mind.” I never expected that we'd have the last day alone.

Greg pushed a piece of hair out of my eyes. “You sure?”

“I haven't been to the beach since Yoremouth,” I said. “When I went with . . .” I stopped, unsure what to say. Greg and I didn't go to the beach when we went to the Reconciliation youth meeting together.

Greg waited.

“With Ril. The social worker? When I went away for the weekend.”

“I
FEEL SICK
,” said Angelina. “You're going too fast, Dad. Are we nearly there yet?”

“It'll be nice when we're there,” Greg said.

“Hmmph,” said Angelina. But she held on to his hand.

He left his arm resting along the back of the seat, almost as if he had his arm around me.

“Where's your hat, Verity?” said Angelina.

“I forgot it.”

“You'll get sunstroke. Won't she, Mom?”

Rosanna glanced around. “Probably not. But it
is
hot today. Maybe we can sit in the shade.”

“I've got a spare hat,” said Greg. He jammed the old baseball cap on my head, and smiled his half smile.

“That old thing!” snorted Meredith, pulling it off from behind me.

I held the cap in my hand. It was the one he'd worn when he'd followed me to the Old City.

We ate the picnic, and drank plastic cups of sweet tea from Rosanna's striped flask. Meredith lay on a beach mat with her eyes closed. Gerontius went off for a walk along the beach. Rosanna watched Angelina dig a sandcastle.

“Verity? Come for a walk?” Greg was standing beside me.

Rosanna looked up quickly. “That's a good idea,” she said. “You too, Meredith?”

But Meredith rolled over onto her stomach. “No, you're all right,” she said. “Too sleepy.”

“Come on, then,” said Greg.

We walked off toward the other end of the beach, crossing the expanse of sand where dogs were allowed to run free. Greg took my hand. I looked at him.

“I don't care who sees,” he said crossly. “You're going tomorrow.”

So we walked along the beach hand in hand, not speaking. Greg dovetailed his fingers between mine. The beach wasn't long enough.

We reached the rocks. Greg smiled at me. “Let's go behind there.”

“OK.”

Under the cliff there was a sort of cave, an overhanging rock above and a sandy miniature beach below.
Greg sat on a ledge and pulled me down onto his knees.

“My dad will be hurrying over here to save you,” he said. “So we'd better not waste time.”

I didn't mean to, but I heard myself sigh. Greg laughed. He said, “Wait until we get back to Gatesbrooke.”

“Mmm.” But then I remembered that first I had to tell Greg my true story. And that could be the end of us, before we'd really begun.

Then we kissed, while the sea sucked away and shushed smoothly up the beach. I put my arms around Greg's neck, to remember the way his hair felt so downy near the nape, and the shape of his head and his shoulders under my hands. His hands were remembering the shape of me.

We walked back across the sand.

“You're very quiet,” said Greg.

“You know why,” I said. “Did you like me better the way I was before?”

“I like you any way.”

B
UT WAS THAT
true? Would he still have liked me if he knew who I was?

Could he still like me now?

The cap smells of sunshine and summer, but now it's damp with tears.

CHAPTER 37

M
Y SUNFLOWER WOODCUT
is almost finished. I peel back the print with the slicking hiss of ink. This time it's rusty red, the color of old blood.

I cut away the last few bits for the final printing tomorrow. Everything I cut will stay red, everything that's left will be midnight purple. The block is almost all carved away now, in jagged ridges. All that's left is the darkness.

In my sketchbook I rough out views of the sea, from behind the beach huts and then in front. Although I'm imagining it in bright sunlight, the sea looks angry and the huts cast dark shadows on to the pebbles. I can work on it tomorrow, maybe put a figure on the beach.

I clean up by lunchtime and because I have no afternoon classes I cycle into town to go swimming before I have to meet Oskar. As I duck my head into the blue water, so different from the soft green pond, I plan the things I need to do to untangle myself from the life Oskar set up for me. The bike is a good start, but it's not enough.

Then I become aware of the swimmer in the next lane. Celestina is swimming effortlessly along beside me. She speeds up and treads water at the end, waiting for me. I hook one hand over the edge of the pool.

“Hello, Verity,” she says. “I didn't know you swam here. It's a bit warmer than the pond, isn't it?”

“Hi.” I'm not really surprised to see her. I don't think Celestina minds breaking rules.

“Did you know you can stay upright without treading water? Look.” She stops moving and puts both her hands up in the air. There she is, motionless, with her head bobbing on the surface of the water like a buoy.

I can't help smiling.

“You try it,” she says.

So I do. And it's true. After the first little panicky moment when I stop moving, I find myself vertical in the deep water while it holds me up.

“There you go,” Celestina says. “Not everyone can do it. Greg can't—he tried it that night in the pond, after the dance. Oh, and he wanted me to tell you something.”

My heart leaps. My heart sinks. I don't say anything.

“But don't worry,” says Celestina. “He wants you to know he's got the message. He doesn't want you to think he's some kind of stalker, so he won't be bothering you again. He just didn't really get it before.”

I duck my head underwater.

But Celestina hasn't finished. “Now he does. I don't get it, though, Verity,” she says when I resurface. “What's really going on?”

I make my voice cold. “Nothing's going on,” I say. “I need some space.”

“From all of us?”

I nod.

Celestina pulls a how-about-that sort of face. “OK,” she says. She doesn't sound offended. “Fair enough. Although—Verity?” she calls over her shoulder as she strikes out again. “We're all really upset about Jeremiah. Now's the time when we should stick together. And also, I don't believe you.”

When I reach the other end, she's waiting for me. “Are you sure you don't want to get a coffee after this?” she says, pushing her dark goggles up on top of her silver swimming cap. “You can meet my new friend, Jo. She's coming to the rally with me. You'd like her, I
think. I'll buy you lots of hot tea, no sugar,” she goes on. “And then you can tell me what's up, if you like. It might feel better to talk about it.”

I look at her. She's thinking of my problem as if it's something she could help with, not something that will make her feel I've cheated and betrayed them all.

So I shake my head. My wet hair slaps the sides of my face. “Sorry, Celestina. I just can't.”

“OK,” she says lightly. She pulls herself out of the pool in one smooth movement. “Bye, then.”

I
NEED TO
set up a whole new life—somewhere Oskar doesn't know about—ready for the moment I can leave the Institute. So I go straight to a job agency near the Pelican, and get an evening job cleaning offices in the Town Hall, starting next week. As I'm here, I cycle down to the canal basin and lean my bike against the little wooden bridge that leads to the towpath and the houseboats.

Normally you can't go right up to the houseboats because of the locked gate. But today it's wedged open with two big cardboard boxes. I slip through and walk along the towpath and I see that the dark green boat with the painted flowers isn't empty today. There's a bang from inside as the doors are pushed open by the heavy box a young guy is carrying. He lets it fall on to the deck with a
thud
and disappears inside again. The box is full of tins of paint, long-handled paintbrushes, and jam jars.