The One and Only (13 page)

‘Didn’t want everyone making a big deal about it.’ Ryan shrugged. ‘Like you are now. Look, it’s fine. I’m fine about it.’

‘But . . . but . . .’ I stared at him. He did sound totally unbothered, as if he was chatting about a couple of football teams he was vaguely interested in. And yet, why wasn’t he looking properly at me?

‘Aren’t you upset?’ I said.
Being without Eve is killing me.

‘No way.’ Ryan stared at the grass. ‘It’s given me a chance to see all sorts of girls. You know how I once had a thing with Kelly Simmonds? Well, she’s got a friend who—’

‘Hold on, Ry. Stop.’ I frowned, still failing to get my head around Ryan’s cheerful tone. ‘So you’re
pleased
about being dumped, then?’

‘It’s not a big deal,’ he said, his voice still all casual. Then he met my eyes at last. Just for a couple of seconds. But it was enough.

He walked off. I stared after him, shocked.

Not by what he’d said. But by the amount of hurt in his eyes. Hurt that he hadn’t been able to hide.

Half an hour later, the phone rang.

Trisha was out with Alice doing some food shopping and I knew from the last twenty-four hours that Mum hardly ever answered the phone any more.

I picked up the receiver. ‘Hi.’

There was a fierce intake of breath and then an explosion.

‘You sodding little shit. I’m going to kill you when I get my hands on you. Where is she? Is she with you now?’

Jonno.

I was so shocked that I slammed the phone down.

It rang again immediately. I let it ring a few times, then realised if I didn’t answer it Mum might – and I didn’t want Jonno shouting at her. I picked the phone up.

‘Don’t you dare hang up on me again,’ Jonno roared. ‘Where’s Eve?’

I gulped. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. This was technically true. The piece of paper on which Alejandro had written her address was screwed up in my jeans pocket. I had no idea what it said.

‘Don’t lie to me, you evil piece of—’

‘I really don’t know,’ I said, loudly. ‘She dumped me. That’s why I’m here. At home.’

Silence. I waited while the non-psychotic part of Jonno’s brain processed this information. The last thing I wanted was to give him the satisfaction of thinking Eve no longer wanted me. But this was the only way I could think of getting him off my back. Off Mum’s back.

‘Hah.’ Jonno sucked in his breath again. ‘Came to her senses then, did she? Realised she can do better?’

‘I suppose so.’ I made rude signs with my fingers at the phone.

Actually she’s now shacked up with a bisexual bass player and an obsessive rock guitarist.

‘But I don’t think she wants to go back to that prison you kept her in in Spain,’ I added.

‘No.’ Jonno’s voice suddenly sounded unbearably heavy and sad. ‘Well, just so long as she’s not with you,’ he growled.

There was a long pause.

‘Right,’ I said.

‘Listen.’ Jonno was making chewing noises. I guessed he had a cigar in his mouth. I could just picture him – slicked-back hair, gold jewellery and that handsome, wasted face. ‘D’you know if she’s OK? I mean for money? It’s just I was worried that she might not have enough. I know Alejandro’s helping her. To be honest that’s the only reason why I didn’t beat him to a pulp in Madrid – but he won’t . . . he can’t do it for ever. And I know how easy it is to get into trouble when you’re broke.’ He stopped.

This uneasy feeling twisted into my stomach.

He cared about her. Yeah, he hated me and he didn’t want to let Eve live her own life and all that, but deep down he cared.

‘Luke?’

‘Yeah. Er . . . I think she’s fine. For money, I mean.’

‘Good.’

Another long pause.

‘And if you do see her, tell her I’m here. If she wants to call.’

The line went dead.

I put the receiver down slowly.

‘It’s a trick,’ Chloe said, several hours later. ‘He wants you to make Eve think he’s changed so he can kidnap her again and send her back to that hellhole in Spain.’

We were discussing Jonno’s call with Trisha while Alice ate fishfingers at the kitchen table. Sam was grizzling in Chloe’s arms. Trisha was standing at the counter, heating up a bottle of milk for him.

I shook my head. ‘Maybe he realises now he went too far.’

Chloe snorted and pinched one of Alice’s fishfingers.

‘Hey, they’re mine,’Alice said.

‘You have to learn to share.’ Chloe licked her fingers.

‘I expect it’s a mix of things,’ Trisha said, looking irritatedly at Chloe. ‘I mean he’s bound to be worried. He’s her dad.’ She handed Chloe the warmed-up milk.

Chloe waved the bottle in the air. ‘Like Matt’s worried about Sam?’ she said.

We all stared at the baby. He had changed a lot since I’d left at Christmas. His face was rounder and fuller – more like a proper baby’s face. He was still scarily small, but he did look a lot cuter than he had five weeks ago.

‘How could anyone leave him?’ Trisha murmured.

When Alice finished her tea, Trisha took her upstairs for a bath. Mum appeared and sat with us for a while. Then she went up to change Sam’s nappy.

‘Mum seems a lot better,’ Chloe said.

I stared at her. ‘You’re kidding.’

Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘You have no idea, Luke. It was hell here.’

‘Hell for Trisha, maybe,’ I said. ‘You weren’t here.’

‘Neither were you,’ she snapped. She stood up. ‘I’m going now. Gotta get back to the house.’

I stared at her. ‘So how is it? You know, work and your flat-share.’

Chloe looked at me suspiciously. ‘There’s no spare room,’ she said.

‘Jesus Christ, Chlo. I’m not trying to muscle in on your fabulous new life,’ I said. ‘It’s just I saw Ry earlier. He . . .’

I stopped. Chloe’s expression had changed. The hard, ironic glare in her eye that was there almost all the time, had gone. She looked suddenly vulnerable. Like she wasn’t much older than Alice.

‘Ry was here?’ she said, in a tiny voice.

‘Yeah. He . . . look, Chlo, I know it’s none of my business, but what
happened
?’

I half expected Chloe to flounce indignantly out of the room. But instead she sank back into the kitchen chair and sighed.

‘I thought I wanted all this other stuff. Like work,’ she said. ‘I mean, I hated school. But to be honest that stupid shop isn’t any better. In fact it’s worse. Well, worse than English anyway. You can’t turn up late and there are all these fascists there telling you what to do and it’s so boring. I mean it’s great having the money and the flat, but otherwise . . . ?’

‘But what about Ryan?’ I said.

Above our heads I could hear Alice squealing as Trisha ordered her out of the bath.

Chloe sighed again. ‘I thought I wanted to be on my own.’ She paused. ‘Well. Really I thought I wanted the chance to go out with other guys. But . . .’ she looked down at the floor.

‘But they didn’t ask you out?’ I grinned.

She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘You are such a bin-licker. No. They’re just not him, that’s all.’ And she got up and stomped out of the kitchen.

The next day was Monday. I went back to school. It was weird being there after so many weeks away. I was hauled into the head’s office first thing and given an hour-long bollocking for running away and truanting and being immature and generally excessively stupid. ‘And in your GCSE year as well, Luke,’ she said.

As if doing it at some other time would have been fine.

I was told I would have to do loads of extra work to catch up. And that it was only my home circumstances – dead dad, mad mum, though that’s not how they put it – that had persuaded them against permanently excluding me.

I sat there, taking it, feeling resentful and sulky.
God.
Three days ago I’d been living in a great house, learning to play the guitar from a genius guitar player. And Eve had loved me.

Eve
.

Whenever I thought about her it hurt in the pit of my stomach. I had her address. I could go round. I should, maybe, to tell her about Jonno’s phone call. I knew Cal and George weren’t going to be here very long. In a week’s time she’d probably be back in Cornwall, hundreds of miles away.

But I was scared to see her. Not just because she might not take me back. But in case she did. And then I would face a choice I didn’t want to make.

Eve or Mum.

On Wednesday, Trisha told me that she was going to move back home at the weekend. ‘I can’t stay here any longer, Luke,’ she said. ‘I need to get the place ready for the new baby. And it’s starting to affect Alice being here all the time. And your Mum’s getting better now.’

It was true. Mum did seem a bit better. The dead look in her eye had lifted a little and she got up more and came downstairs. She’d even asked me about Eve and where we’d stayed. I knew she wanted to ask me about how far we’d gone together – and other stuff too, about drugs and money. I gave her a few, broad reassurances: I’m not a junkie; I’m not a thief. Then made it clear I didn’t want to talk. She didn’t push it.

I started fantasising about getting Eve back and going down to Cornwall again. ‘Maybe Mum’ll be OK on her own?’ I said.

Trisha shook her head. ‘I know it’s not fair, Luke. It should be Matt here dealing with all this. But he isn’t. And it’s not as if there’s really somewhere else you should be. You’re still at school. This is where you belong.’

And so the week slid away.

Cal called me on Thursday and told me to come over to George’s flat that evening for a guitar session. ‘You gotta practise every day,’ he said. ‘Or you’ll slip back.’

‘Will Eve be there?’ I didn’t know whether I wanted him to say yes or no.

‘Nah.’ I could hear Cal plucking at his Gibson, his mind only half on our conversation. ‘She’s going out. With George.’

I wanted to ask him what he meant. Going out how? Out buying food? Out on a date? Out shagging each other senseless on a park bench somewhere?

But Cal just hung up, with a final reminder to come round at seven.

Anyway, as I put down the phone I reflected that George didn’t need to take Eve outside to have sex with her. She was living in his freaking flat. In fact, when I thought about it, she was completely dependent on him. He could force her to do what he liked, couldn’t he?
Sleep with me, Eve, or you’re out on the street.

My head pulsed with rage for a few minutes, until it occurred to me that if George had wanted to blackmail either of us like that he would have done it a month ago. No. He was basically a nice bloke. Spoilt rotten of course, with all that money and his big home. And a bit weird, maybe. Certainly far too touchy-feely with guys for my liking. But he was fun and generous and . . .
God
. . . Eve wouldn’t go for him, would she?

I was there, knocking on the door, at five to seven.

George’s flat was in Kensington – a plush apartment full of expensive-looking furniture and crowded with ornaments, just like the house in Cornwall.

Cal had set the amps up in the living room. He let me borrow his old guitar – a third-hand Flying V. I was dying to ask him about George and Eve, but it wasn’t easy. Cal basically had three topics of conversation. Rock music. His Les Paul Gibson guitar. And how poor he was. He did, apparently, sometimes talk about Jess and his undying love for her – but he’d never done that with me and he didn’t start that night.

Instead I had to endure two hours of exactly why his Les Paul was the best in the world. I’d heard it all before. Many times. I tried to focus on the music and the Flying V in my hands.

Playing again was fantastic. My fingers slid over the frets easily now. It was almost impossible to remember how stiff and awkward they’d felt at first. We worked on some of our favourite stuff, then tried out a couple of new tracks Cal had written.

I got totally lost in the music, not thinking about what I had to do next, just going with it, letting it flow, listening to how Cal was improvising around me.

We stopped for a beer. I caught Cal looking at me with an expression that might almost have been pride. ‘You’re not bad, now, you know,’ he said gruffly. ‘Might even let you try out my Gibson someday soon.’

This was about the highest praise Cal could give me. I was so pleased I even forgot about Eve for two minutes. Then I checked the clock. 9.30 pm.

Where was she?

What was she doing?

It started obsessing me. I couldn’t concentrate any more. By 9.45 I was practically screaming with frustration and Cal was starting to giving me odd looks, like I was some kind of psycho.

And then Eve and George walked in.

He had his arm round her shoulders. That was the first thing I noticed. Then that Eve was wearing clothes I hadn’t seen before. A long, fitted coat that looked really expensive. He must’ve bought it for her.
Jesus.

He was buying her away from me.

Eve’s face went red.

Jealousy surged through me, making me feel sick to my stomach.

George slid his hand off Eve’s back. He started talking at me, too fast, trying to smooth everything over.

I just stared at Eve.

‘Fancy a beer, Cal?’ George said, edging towards the kitchen.

I propped the guitar against the sofa and walked silently to the front door.

‘Luke?’ Eve smiled at me and my jealousy twisted into this huge miserable knot in my stomach. ‘D’you want to go for a walk?’

I nodded and stood back to let her leave. I didn’t look round or say goodbye to the others.

I followed Eve down the stairs and out onto the pavement. It was cold and clear, the sky a deep, dark, blue.

‘Nice coat,’ I said, drily.

Eve nodded. ‘It’s another one of George’s sister’s things. He gave it to me before we left Cornwall. He’s lent me a mobile too.’

‘How thoughtful of him,’ I said.

Eve frowned at me. ‘Luke? For God’s sake. You don’t . . .?’

I raised my eyes.

‘Luke, he’s not . . . We’re not . . .’

‘No?’

‘No. I
asked
Cal to call you up and get you round. And I
asked
George if we could go out for a couple of hours while I got up the courage to come back and talk to you.’