Skylarks Page 10

  But I just say, ‘Hopefully he will, yeah.’

  There’s a pause, then Kelly says, ‘Well, you can’t fix it today, but as for this thing with Annabel … tell me again what she said.’

  I do a swift recap and show Kelly the texts and she sighs as she scrolls through.

  ‘Well … it seems to me like she was nervous and had a brain fart. She’s said sorry about twelve times here.’ Kelly tosses me back my phone. ‘Mate, she clearly likes you. Question is, do you like her?’

  I start to shrug, then turn it into a nod.

  ‘Well then. You know, sometimes there’s such a thing as playing it too safe.’

  ‘You reckon that’s what I do?’

  Kelly’s not smiling now. ‘Sometimes.’

  Huh. I think about this later on after we’ve said goodbye. Do I play things too safe? I guess I do feel most right when I’m at home, where everything’s comfortable and familiar, but that’s a good thing isn’t it? To put your family first.

  I mean, without family, what’ve you got anyway?

  I can’t deny it; I’m nervous on the way to the library in the morning. I texted Annabel back last night in the end. I deleted about fifty drafts before settling on: It’s OK, let’s just draw a line. (Thanks, Mum.) See you tomorrow x. She hasn’t replied, but it was late when I texted …

  Her car pulls in as I’m getting off my bike. I plaster a smile on my face and then do a weird little wave too, even though she’s right there in front of me. Annabel waves back with the hand holding her car key fob thing, like she’s embarrassed too.

  I wonder if fate might send me one of those sinkholes round about now.

  ‘Hiya.’ My voice comes out weird and croaky. Oh yeah, sinkhole would definitely be a plan.

  ‘Hello.’ She’s fiddling with her key fob, pushing it from hand to hand. We catch each other’s eyes, both look away, then look back at the same time. There’s a pause that goes on for eternity.

  ‘I’m sorry –’ We both begin at the same time and then stop again. I suddenly want to giggle and I reckon Annabel feels the same way.

  Her face gets serious. ‘I really didn’t mean …’

  ‘I know, you texted. Once or twice.’ My mouth twitches. She’s gone all pink, but then she smiles again.

  I shake my head.

  ‘We’re a pair, aren’t we? Come on, let’s open up.’

  All through the day, there’s unspoken currents flowing between us. When Annabel passes me a book to shelve and her fingers touch mine, it feels like she’s set off bursts of colour up my arm. I lean down to show her something on the computer and for a mad second all I want to do is touch her hair. At lunchtime, Mrs H doesn’t even need to ask us if we want to sit out on the wall; we both head there in unspoken agreement.

  I keep a careful gap between us as we sit and look out at the row of houses opposite. A woman appears in her window, watching, and I consider giving her a wave, but instead I open up the foil around my sandwiches.

  ‘Peanut butter again,’ I say, more to break the silence than anything.

  ‘I love peanut butter.’ Annabel examines her lunch. ‘Olives.’

  We look at each other and wordlessly swap. It seems to push us over some sort of barrier and I see Annabel relax as she chews. I munch the salad she gave me, including the olives, which are bitter and strong tasting, and wonder what next.

  ‘So I know you said you want to draw a line, but last week …’ Annabel begins suddenly and then trails off. I take a deep breath, let it out again slowly.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I …’

  ‘Girls?’ It’s Mrs H calling down the steps. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed as we go in.

  As soon as we get inside, Mrs H claps her hands together. ‘Good news! We’ll be opening every day, barring Sundays of course, over the summer holidays, thanks to your father, Annabel.’

  Annabel nods.

  ‘Joni, will you be able to do every day?’ Mrs H says.

  ‘Er …’ I feel myself going red as I glance at Annabel and away again. ‘Thing is, would it be, like, paid? Because I might be able to get more hours in somewhere else.’

  ‘Yes, yes. Mr Huntington has kindly provided enough funding for us to have you here on a paid basis.’

  I’m not sure how I feel about Annabel’s dad paying my wages. I avoid looking at Annabel, my face still hot, as I nod and say, ‘OK. I’ll be here then.’

  ‘Wonderful.’

  We spend the rest of the afternoon sitting at one of the tables in a corner, brainstorming ideas for a timetable over the summer. Mrs H wants us to get the kids involved in a float for the annual carnival and summer fete, plus extra groups – including the dreaded toddler group, while Annabel’s going on about art and yoga. It’s pretty hard to concentrate though, because Annabel is sitting next to me and I can smell her perfume. At one point she shifts her legs, and her knee presses lightly against mine and I swear this is not helping the whole drawing a line business.

  Just before it’s time to close, Mrs H says, ‘Could I have a word before you go, Annabel?’ And a part of me falls inside, because I was hoping she’d leave early and we could lock up together, just me and Annabel.

  Annabel gives me a fast look that I’m sure means she was thinking the same thing, before clearing her throat and saying, ‘Of course.’

  I shift out of there quickly, throwing one last look at Annabel from the doorway, still torn between wanting to see her, while my sensible head says this is probably a good thing. Kelly’s take is to relax and see what happens, but I am feeling way less than relaxed right now.

  At home, Mum looks even more tired than before; dark circles ring her eyes and her cheeks seem a little sunken. Jack’s in the middle of shoving some fish fingers in the oven, while Mum sits with a load of paperwork, and the calculator on her phone open on the table.

  I give her a hug, then go to take my own phone out of my pocket. ‘Oh, boll–’ I stop short, but Mum doesn’t seem to have noticed.

  ‘What’s up?’ Jack says.

  ‘Left my phone at the library. I’m going to have to go back and get it – can’t go all week without a phone. Can you keep my tea warm?’

  Jack nods.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ I mouth at him and he jerks his head upwards. So Dad’s still in bed. That’s not good. Mum looks up through watery eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  ‘Did you say something, love?’

  ‘I’ve got to pop back to the library. Won’t be long. You’ve got it all under control, haven’t you, Jack?’

  He nods and Mum goes back to her paperwork.

  ‘Back soon,’ I say, just as there’s a knock at the door.

  ‘I’llgetit!’ Jack shouts in one rush. He’s always loved being the one to get the post or answer the door. I think it’s got to do with him being the baby of the family. It’s probably Dylan anyway; no one else is likely to be knocking this time of day. Jack bounds out of the room and I decide to take the opportunity to speak to Mum.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Hmm? Yes. Trying to work out some sums.’

  ‘Look, Mum, you might not need to worry yet. Me and Jamie have got a pl–’ I leave the rest of the sentence hanging because Jack’s just come back into the kitchen, with an oddly shy look on his face, and behind him is the last person I was expecting to see here.

  Annabel, my phone in her hand.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  For a moment, I can’t speak. I look around, at the hole in the lino, the stained roller blind hanging down on one side where it’s come out of the wall, the dirty washing-up piled on the side. We don’t even have a proper carpet in the hallway; just some rubbish mismatched offcuts Dave from our estate gave us that don’t cover the gripper rod. I feel my face heat up.

  Mum looks to me and then to Annabel and stands up. ‘Hello.’

  Annabel doesn’t seem fazed at all. She holds out her hand to Mum, saying, ‘Mrs Cooper. It’s lovely to meet you.
I’m Annabel. I work with Joni at the library.’

  Mum shakes her hand, her eyebrows high in surprise, her old-fashioned reading glasses on top of her hair, which is gathered in a straggly ponytail. ‘Nice to meet you,’ Mum says, and then starts pushing all the paperwork together. ‘Sorry, you’ve caught us at a … Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘Ah,’ Annabel looks at me. ‘I only came to bring Joni back her phone.’ She holds it out. Jack’s looking from one face to another, clearly interested. I take it, avoiding Annabel’s fingers.

  ‘Thanks then.’ I can only think I need to get her out of here now, before Dad comes downstairs or Jamie gets home. ‘Shall I walk you out?’

  ‘Joni.’ Mum gives me a look that says I’m being rude. ‘I’m sure Annabel can stay for a cup of tea.’

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Jack says and I try to signal to him with my eyes to leave the damn thing where it is.

  Annabel catches the look and takes a step backwards. ‘No really, I can see you’re busy. I wouldn’t want to impose.’ She probably wants to get out of here anyway.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure?’ Mum says.

  ‘Another time perhaps. It was lovely to meet you,’ Annabel says.

  I follow her up the hallway, wincing at every scuff mark on the skirting board, and the motley heap of shoes at the bottom of the stairs, then want to kick my own shins, because I don’t usually care about stuff like this. But it’s pretty hard not to compare, after seeing where Annabel lives. I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing. I’m almost afraid to watch her too closely in case I see some telltale sign, a curl of the lip or wrinkle of her nose. Something that would make me feel small.

  I lean past her and open the door. ‘Thanks for the phone. Guess I’ll see you next week.’ I’m mumbling fast, wanting to hustle her out of here, get rid of this scratchy feeling, like my house is wrong, my family’s wrong.

  That I’m wrong.

  But when I do meet Annabel’s eyes, there’s only confusion and something else … disappointment, I think. She steps past me, then takes a half step backwards and stops again, running her fingers through her long hair.

  ‘I wondered … You wouldn’t want to …? No, never mind. Next week then.’ She starts to go and it’s only when she’s nearly at her car – which is bound to be causing some curtain twitching from Lorraine next door – that I call, ‘Want to what?’

  ‘I don’t know. We could, ah, go for a drive?’

  ‘Now?’

  She looks at me and that energy is there again, alive in the air between us. ‘Would you like to?’

  ‘All right. Give me a sec.’

  I shout back to Mum that I’m going out, grab my phone, keys and coat and give the door a hard yank closed – it sticks, so you have to – before Mum can protest or start quizzing me on homework or worse, like what the deal is between me and Annabel. As I get into her car, I give silent thanks Jamie’s not home, or this evening could’ve been even more awkward than it already was. Though judging by the shadow at Lorraine’s window, he’ll get wind of the ‘swanky car’ round ours soon enough. For now, I simply worry about getting my seat belt done up. It slides smoothly, not like the ones in our car, which always get stuck. The seat’s really comfy too, with about an acre between where my feet finish and where the footwell ends. Annabel starts the car up and backs out carefully, then sits at the entrance to our estate looking left to right several times, even though there’s no traffic.

  ‘Where should we go?’

  ‘It was your idea.’ I feel a little mean about the short way I say it, but part of me is still smarting from how I felt earlier and even though I know she hasn’t said anything, I can’t help feeling like it is partly down to her. I mean, I never asked her to show up at mine, did I? If she’d asked, I’d probably have made some excuse to stop her coming. Preferably forever.

  Annabel bites her lip, then says, ‘Let’s just drive and find somewhere to stop. It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?’

  I don’t think she can see me shrug sitting next to her, but she pulls out anyway. We drive up the country roads, going slowly around all the bends, climbing towards the top of the Downs. I bite back an exclamation as I feel something warm underneath me. For a second it feels like I’ve had a horrific accident, then I realise the seat’s heated. I don’t think I like it. Finally, as the light is really fading, she spots a lay-by and pulls in, then switches off the engine.

  I realise I’ve barely spoken all the way here, too preoccupied with running images of our two houses side by side, and then with looking at the narrow space between where my leg ends and hers begins. Plus the whole wondering if I accidentally peed myself and didn’t realise. If Kelly had been in the car I would definitely have said something, because she would think that’s hilarious, but I can’t bring myself to with Annabel right now. I give a tiny sigh.

  I reckon Annabel’s feeling awkward too; she half turns in her seat towards me, but when I meet her eyes she looks down quickly, then back up again a moment later. ‘I hope you didn’t mind my coming to your home.’

  What am I supposed to say to this? I mean, she clearly knows I do mind, otherwise she wouldn’t be twisting her fingers in her hair all nervous like that. But it seems rude to say and even ruder to ask what she thought of it, like she’d tell me anyway.

  Annabel gives a little cough. ‘It’s only I couldn’t call you as I had your phone so it seemed like the simplest solution.’

  ‘You just … surprised me, that’s all,’ I say and it comes out stilted. Why is this so awkward? Why do I care so much?

  ‘I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’

  ‘I wasn’t embarrassed.’ I snap the words out louder than I meant to. ‘Why, d’you think I should be?’

  ‘God, no! Of course not. I only meant that you seemed … damn, I keep getting it wrong, don’t I?’

  She looks properly upset. I’m breathing heavily, my jaw aching where I’ve gritted my teeth. Part of me is thinking I knew it, and This is stupid, it’s never going to work, we’re way too different. But then she turns back to me, looking right into my eyes.

  ‘I really didn’t mean that at all. I promise.’

  I hold her eyes for the longest time, trying to work out what I’m feeling, what I want. Then she shifts her gaze to the side and lets out a gasp.

  ‘Look.’

  I turn my head to where she’s looking and suck in a breath through my teeth. The sky to one side of us is a brilliant pink. It’s so luminous it’s almost eerie, with the dark ridge of the Downs and a clump of trees in the distance silhouetted against the sky.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Annabel says it quietly, on a long out breath, and her voice is so full of wonder I suddenly know that she does feel it too, the beauty you get out here. She sees it like I do.

  I get out, hear Annabel doing the same, and then she comes to stand next to me and we’re shoulder to shoulder, looking up at that amazing sky. Her house, mine, they seem to shrink down in front of it – not like they don’t matter at all, but perhaps not as much, not out here. After a minute, her fingers find mine and we hold on, watching the colours deepen above us. The feel of her hand sends a pulse all the way through me. Then the pressure of her fingers increases and we turn towards each other at the same time. Our kiss isn’t tentative this time, like by the lake. This is a full-on kiss, mouths open, tongues moving together, my body against hers. I’m on tiptoes, my fingers reaching up into her hair as she leans down and into me, her arms at my back. My heart feels like it’s going to drum itself right out of my chest in a way I’ve never felt before, not with Lara, not with anyone. It’s as though some sort of invisible thread is looping from me to her and back again, drawing us close, heat rushing through me at the places where our bodies meet.

  Then a car goes past, its engine roaring from one of those souped-up exhausts on the back, making us both jump. Annabel immediately pulls away, one hand going to her chest. It’s hard to read her expression in the fading light.


  ‘That was loud,’ she says.

  I wonder for a second if that’s the only reason she moved back sharpish. I haven’t exactly asked her anything about, well, anything. Is she gay, bi, something else? Is she out to anyone? To herself? Does it matter at this moment?

  I decide it doesn’t have to. Not right now. ‘Yeah, there’s some proper dickweasels around here,’ I say. She looks startled, but a moment later she laughs.

  ‘Dickweasel. I like that word. In fact,’ she gives my fingers a squeeze, ‘I think I’m going to keep it.’ And the look in her eyes seems to suggest it’s not just the word she wants to keep.

  We drive back in near darkness now. Annabel pops on some music but refuses all my pleas for her to sing. ‘That was strictly a one-time only event.’

  ‘Go on, you’re not that bad,’ I say, and Annabel risks taking her eyes off the road to turn her head towards me, presumably to give me a look I can’t really see on these dark roads anyway.

  ‘Joni. It would have to be an absolutely exceptional circumstance for me to ever sing in front of anyone. Even you.’ I can hear from her voice she’s smiling and I grin back, looking at the shadowy trees and the pool her lights make on the road in front of us.

  ‘You saying I’m not exceptional, eh? I think I’m hurt.’ I know she knows I’m teasing and it feels like we’ve taken a tiny step, together, joking like this.

  She replies in a low voice I almost don’t hear over the CD which, by the way, is the Beatles – apparently she likes the classics.

  ‘I think you’re just exceptional enough.’

  I’m still grinning when I shove the door shut behind me. I go into the kitchen because I’m suddenly totally starving. Jamie’s sat at the table and when I say hi he gives me a grunt and a dark look. I ignore him – I’m not letting anything wreck my mood tonight – and root about in the cupboard, coming up with a tin of beans at the back. There’s no bread, so I put the whole tin in a saucepan on the hob; the microwave’s busted, but it doesn’t matter because beans taste better out of a pan anyway, especially if there’s any cheese left which … yes! There is. I swing round with the last of the block in my hands, feeling stupidly happy. It’s only cheese.