The moon lit up the trees as she clambered over the low hedge in the back garden. Through the shadows Victoria could see the Volkswagen camper parked under the trees behind the church, exactly where she’d told Seth was the best place.
She was disappointed to find he’d brought another boy and two girls with him. She felt a pang of jealousy. It must have shown on her face because he laughed.
‘Chill out, sweetheart, you didn’t think I’d come all the way to this cruddy place on my lonesome, did you? It’s taken us ten hours to get here.’
‘No, not really.’ Victoria felt the warmth of embarrassment rise from her throat.
Like a Rolling Stone, boomed out from two transistors inside the van. She clicked her fingers to look casual but couldn’t resist saying, ‘Think you need to turn that down; someone might come to see what’s happening.’
‘Oh, man.’ Seth rolled his eyes. ‘Zen?’
The other boy switched one of the radios off. ‘Better?’ He looked at Victoria.
She nodded, feeling stupid.
‘Remember me? Amber?’ one of the girls put her arm around Victoria’s waist. ‘We met at the festival?’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ Victoria managed a smile.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll make ourselves scarce,’ Amber murmured.
The boy called Zen winked and grabbed hold of other girl’s hand. ‘C’mon, Jasmine. Let’s find ourselves a cosy corner.’
‘The church is always open,’ Victoria said.
‘Ooer, let’s go and find God.’
The three of them walked away, laughing.
Seth took hold of her hand. His skin was warm and dry. He came closer. She closed her eyes and swallowed. ‘Open them,’ he muttered, his lips against hers. It was a command. He was kissing her all over her face, licking her neck, her ears, pausing every now and then as though watching her reaction. She pulled her jumper over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra and she leaned back savouring the sensation as he sucked her nipple.
The heat spread inside her and she felt for the buckle of his belt. ‘Undo it,’ he said. Her legs trembled as she pulled at the belt on his jeans, unzipped them. His skin was warm there too, warm and hard. He pressed against her.
Then she was lying across one of the seats in the back of the camper, vaguely aware of the coldness of the leather as he eased her jeans, her panties, along her legs, kissing her waist, her stomach, her thighs. She opened her legs to him and he gently moved his fingers in her, gradually increasing the pressure until she was rising each time to meet the rhythm. And then there was a sudden, sharp pain and she gasped. He was inside her. But the pain subsided and suddenly she was driving herself against him, pulling him in. In that moment the decision was made for her; she would go with him, wherever he wanted her to go.
When she got back to the cottage it was in darkness.
Back in her bed, she touched the places Seth had been and smiled.
Chapter 4 : Victoria Schormann
Llamroth: Wednesday, September 17th
It would be the perfect time for her to leave. As soon as her parents had left with her brother for the train station she’d run upstairs, drag her duffle-bag from under her bed and pack her things.
She read the note through once again, before folding it and pushing it back into the envelope. She thought it said everything she wanted her parents to know. To make them leave her alone. For now. To make sure, she underlined a couple of the lines.I need to get away, to find where I truly belong. To find myself. My spirit is crushed in this place. My spirit needs to fly. I’ll write. Please don’t look for me.
She’d see them sometime in the future – when she wanted to. But for now she needed to be free. Free from being a twin. Free to be…to do what she wanted. Just like last night. The tingle in the pit of her stomach returned as she thought about Seth making love to her. Finally…
Victoria shivered at the thought that she might never have known Seth. If she hadn’t gone to the pop festival at the beginning of the summer she would never have met him.
She wasn’t meant to be there, but her parents had been with Richard at an open-day event at one of the hospitals in Manchester and she’d refused to go with them. She was sick to death of always hearing them going on about how brainy their precious son was. And it had been bad enough having to trail around to all the relatives the day before. Even worse, having to stay at Auntie Jean’s with grumpy Uncle Patrick because they had the most room.
‘Look Mum, I don’t want to come with you. I’ll be bored and you’ll only get mad at me. And I don’t want to stay here on my own. Please, just let me go into Manchester and look around the shops there. I almost never get the chance to shop in a city. Please. Dad, tell her, tell Mum to let me.’
‘I don’t know…’ Mary looked to Peter for help.
‘Perhaps if we find out the times of the bus we can make sure she is safely on it and then we can meet her after we have finished at the hospital.’
‘I know the number of the bus to catch, Dad. I found a timetable in Auntie Jean’s kitchen. Come on, trust me, I’ll be okay. Honest. And I’ll probably be back before you, anyway.’
She didn’t mention the poster she’d seen on a lamp-post advertising the festival.
When she jumped off the platform of the bus she could already hear the music. A group was playing‘A Groovy Kind of Love’ and she hummed along with it, studying the long queue at the entrance. Looking around she saw a gap in the fence further along the road and sauntered towards it. She stood, waiting for a couple to pass her, then quickly ducked through.
‘Got you.’ A strong hand held her shoulder. She looked up at whoever had caught her. He didn’t look official; he had a flowered full-sleeved shirt on and feathers stuck in a cotton band around his head.
She took a chance. ‘Get off me.’ Twisting away from him.
‘Whoa.’ He held up his hands in a gesture of submission. ‘I surrender myself to the hip Welsh chick in the red dress.’
He’d obviously picked up on her accent. Victoria couldn’t help giggling. ‘You’re not a steward or whatever, are you? You’re not anybody in charge.’
‘Only of myself.’ He grinned. He gestured towards the hedge. ‘Actually that’s the way we got in.’
‘We?’
‘Some friends and me.’ He looked around in a vague manner. ‘They’re here somewhere. Some of them wanted to see Herman’s Hermits. Not my thing but one of them insisted. You like that group?’
Without wavering, Victoria said, ‘Oh no.’ She thought quickly. ‘Joan Baez is more my thing.’
He beamed. ‘And mine too. I knew we were fated to meet.’ He held out his hand, wiggled his fingers. ‘Want to look for my friends with me?’
Victoria took hold of his hand. This was going to be even more exciting than she’d thought.
The opening notes of‘I’m Into Something Good’wafted towards them. ‘See? They’ve started already.’ He began to run, pulling her with him and dodging through the scattered groups of people on the edge of the field.
‘I thought you didn’t like this group?’
‘I don’t, but I want you to meet my f…my friends.’
She thought he’d almost said his family. Perhaps they were there as well? It didn’t matter; for once she was free to do just what she wanted and free to meet who she wanted. She laughed. ‘I don’t even know your name,’ she shouted, trying to keep up.
‘Seth.’ He spun around taking her in a wide circle around him. ‘You?’
‘Victoria. Vicky,’ she said, breathless. ‘Stop, I’m dizzy.’
‘Not a Welsh name then?’
‘Nage…No. My parents are…’ she hesitated, ‘English. From around here, actually.’
He ignored her voluntary explanation. ‘Boring name. I shall think of a better one for you.’
‘Oh, will you, indeed?’
‘I will.’ He untied the band from his head, fastened it around hers and, picking up the fallen feathers
, stuck them in it. ‘There. Awesome!’ He bent to kiss her.
She turned her cheek to him, suddenly shy. ‘We should find your friends.’
He scanned the field. Victoria did the same, even though she hadn’t a clue who she was looking for. It had filled up a lot since she’d arrived and now seemed to be a kaleidoscope of colour, girls in kaftans, shawls and large-brimmed hats. A group of boys pushed past them, dressed almost identically in flares and multi-coloured waistcoats, their bare arms painted with flowers. Victoria recognised the sweet smell of cannabis that they left in their wake from a party at college. She remembered she’d been too scared to try it. She watched the boys move through the crowds, bending to kiss some of the girls, touching the outstretched arms of others swaying to the music.
She felt drab and boring in her red mini-dress.
‘You’re cool,’ Seth said, almost as though he could read her mind.
She smiled. He was gorgeous.
The last notes of the song floated towards them on the light breeze, almost lost in the piercing screams of girls. The stage was at the far end of the field. The group looked small, insignificant against the large wooden structure. But Victoria lost sight of that, too, as the crowds stood up to cheer.
‘Think we might as well stay here.’ Seth sat down cross-legged on the grass and patted the ground at the side of him. ‘Unless there’s a group you really do want to listen to?’
She could tell from the dismissive tone that he was expecting her to say no. And, to be honest, she would much rather stay with him. But she pretended to deliberate before shaking her head and kneeling down. His body was warm through the thin cotton of his shirt as he casually put his arm around her waist and drew her to him. His lips were warm and firm. She felt the slight touch of stubble against her cheek for the first time; the boys she’d kissed in the past had skin as smooth as hers and she liked the roughness of Seth’s. And then his tongue was pressing on her lips, gently opening them, entering her mouth. It was the first time she’d been kissed in that way. And, as the minutes passed and she felt his hand on her breast, the first time a thrill had surged through her body and along her thighs.
Seth drew back, laughing softly, searching her face. ‘So…?’ he murmured.
Mortified, Victoria wouldn’t meet his gaze. She moved from her knees to a sitting position a little way from him and affected to concentrate on a girl who was weaving her way through the crowds, towards them. She was singing and turning from side to side, waving a bubble-wand over the heads of everyone. Victoria watched the bubbles as they drifted around, iridescent in the sunlight. One floated in front of her and then landed on Seth’s nose where it burst. He sneezed and Victoria giggled.
He grabbed her. ‘I’ll teach you to laugh at me?’ Rolling around on the grass he tickled her until she begged him to stop. He fell back, taking her with him and they lay, gasping for breath and gazing up at the sky. Another group began playing, the thrum of a bass guitar vying with the drummer. The awkward moment was gone.
They lay for a while, pointing out the various shapes of the clouds to one another, breathing in the ubiquitous scent of hash. Dozing.
The sound of arguing startled Victoria. She sat up, leaning back on her arms and watching a couple exchanging heated words before the girl flounced off. Another girl came and sat beside the boy and started necking with him. The casualness excited Victoria. It’s a freedom thing, she thought, just doing what you want to.
She glanced down at Seth over her shoulder. ‘Your friends will be wondering where you are.’
He waved a lazy arm. ‘They’ll find me.’
‘Oh.’ She shivered; the day was beginning to cool down. She rubbed her arms briskly. There were grass stains on her knees; she’d have to get rid of those before she went home. She checked her watch and took in a quick breath. ‘I’ll have to go,’ she said, ‘I promised to be back before…’ She realised she hadn’t said anything else about her family to Seth. In fact they’d hardly talked about anything at all.
Seth sat up. ‘So soon? I was hoping we could make a night of it.’
The implication was obvious and she blushed. And then laughed; she could just imagine her parents’ faces if they’d seen her this afternoon. It was the most exciting day she’d had. Ever.
‘No, I’m sorry, I really must go.’ She stood, brushing the grass off her dress, smoothing down the skirt. She’d taken her shoes off and now balanced on one foot after the other to put them back on.
‘Wait. Here come the others. I want you to meet them.’ Seth jumped to his feet and waved towards a knot of people coming towards them. They were laughing. Victoria’s eyes were drawn to the centre of the group where two girls, dressed in ordinary mini-dresses like her, were clinging to one another, heads close. They were whispering together. But then they joined in with the cheers and shouts of greetings as they neared Seth and Victoria.
He took her hand and pulled her upright. As they stood together she was aware of a sense that, somehow, she was important and that, for the first time in her life, she belonged.
Victoria propped the note against the kettle; she knew it would be the first thing her mother would go to as soon as she came through the door. Her parents were so predictable. They didn’t realise things were different these days. That was why they didn’t understand her: why there were so many rows. They’d never lived in a time that was changing so much, that was so electrifying … so dangerous in a way. Oh, she knew about the war; hadn’t she been taunted about Dad often enough by some of the kids in school repeating what their parents said: ‘Dirty Hun’, ‘filthy Jerry’s kid’. Not that it’d bothered her; they were the ones sorry for themselves in the end.
And all that war stuff was in the past.
She heaved a long sigh, the queasy exhilaration in her stomach making her restless. But, until Seth came for her in the morning, she had to wait. She’d wanted to go in the night, to get right away before her parents woke but he’d said no; he wasn’t spending another ten hours on the road without a sleep (he’d leered, grinning, as he said the word and she’d blushed, hoping the others hadn’t noticed). But she supposed he was right; it was a long way, especially in the dark.
So she’d tried to persuade him to let her go to him as soon as her parents left the cottage, to meet him at the camper van but he’d told her not to; he was adamant they would come for her. She didn’t understand why she had to wait. But she’d agreed in the end.
Gelert, their Alsation, nuzzled her hand and followed her when she went through to the living-room and over to the window. The road was empty. Beyond the trees across the road the grey sea shifted slowly, the waves sluggish on the shoreline.
She sighed, turned and sat on the window-sill, lifted her arms and let them drop again. She liked the jangling of the bangles as they fell so she repeated the action twice more. She glanced at the bookshelves. After packing the new clothes she’d been secretly buying over the last few months – the frayed bell-bottomed jeans, two tie-dyed shirts and, best of all the purple, flowing chiffon kaftan – on top of her art stuff, she’d hesitated over one or two of her books. But Seth had told her last night to travel light. Still, she’d slipped in one of her records. She was sure he’d approve of Joan Baez and ‘We Shall Overcome’.
Absently stroking the dog leaning against her, his front paws on the windowsill, she studied the family photographs on the wall. There were loads of her and Richard. Always together; she couldn’t remember ever having had her photo taken on her own. All at once it was vital she looked for one. She pushed the dog away, went over to the cupboard that the music centre was on, riffled through the boxes of photographs, invoices and receipts and miscellaneous papers. Not one photo on her own; always with Richard. Byth yn blydi teg, she thought: never bloody fair. She felt justified in her resentment: looking back it was always him who was the important one, she’d always been in his shadow. She banged the cupboard door closed, remembered there were more photos in the old roll-top desk on
the landing.
Gelert followed close on her heels when she ran upstairs, just as he had for the last hour.
Unlike the rest of the house there was always a jumble of things in the desk. Opening the lid, she went through the top drawer: old papers fastened together with a bulldog-clip, lists, an old wallet. Why Mum hadn’t thrown half of this stuff away she’d never know. She pushed a glasses-case, with the arm of a broken pair poking out, to the back of the drawer and slammed it shut.
Tilting her head she listened for the sound of an engine. But all she could hear was the pounding of the pulse in her ears and the low breathy whine of the dog. She pulled the second drawer right out, tipped the contents onto the desk-top and scattered them. A pile of small photographs spilled out of an envelope. Most looked quite old. And then she found one: a picture of her on her own. She looked about three years old. One arm was held out to her side. Holding it closer to her face she could see a small hand holding hers. Must have been Richard but somehow whoever was taking it hadn’t got it right.
A tiny photograph fluttered off the desk-top. Victoria picked it up and studied it; it looked quite old and was a picture of a woman, plump with curly hair and a wide smile on her face. She turned it over and read the words on the back; ‘Gwyneth, Llamroth, 1950’. She shoved the two pictures into her skirt-pocket, pushed the drawer back into its rightful place and cleared the desktop with one sweep of her arm but then hesitated. Nobody would miss a few pictures. And, despite the rows, she still loved her mum and dad. So it would be good to have a few family memories with her while she was away. She took the envelope.
Moving swiftly to the landing window she checked her watch. ‘Come on, Seth, it’s nearly half nine. You said half nine.’
‘Make sure the “oldies” are out of the way in the morning,’ was what he’d said. She wished he wouldn’t call them that. But he was right; they were old … and old fashioned. Not like him and the group. Her group, he’d said in the last letter. She pulled it out of the pocket in her long skirt and skimmed through the words … ‘your group now, your new family … we can’t wait for you to join us … a whole new life, an exciting new world will be yours… All my love, Seth.’
Living in the Shadows Page 2
