‘I had surprise on my side, along with that handy bit of bamboo. Just as well, because I didn’t like the idea of getting clouted.’
She laughed. ‘Well, we’re both hugely grateful, thank you. And I – I’ve got something for you.’ She fumbled in the top pocket of her shirt and brought out the cufflinks. Her hand shook slightly as she let the cufflinks roll gently from her palm to his.
He studied them for several moments, revolving them between his fingers. ‘Did you make these?’
She nodded.
‘For me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Cool. They’re excellent.’
She flushed. ‘It was a pretty cool thing you did.’
‘And quite a nice thank you.’ He leaned closer, making her wonder ... Then, slowly, he pulled open her pocket, and tipped the cufflinks back in. She jumped at the sensation of them tumbling over her breast like two tiny mice. ‘But that’s not the thank you I want.’ He smiled.
It must be the schnapps. Darcie was actually on fire. Could scarcely lubricate her throat enough to speak. ‘What—?’
His eyes fixed on her mouth. ‘I want a kiss.’
She licked dry lips, tried a laugh, which came out squeaky.
His eyes never left her face. ‘Kiss me. Because you know you want to.’
She looked at his lips. Sexy, full lips, soft and smooth. Her own felt dry and rough.
‘Darcie, come on.’ His voice was no more than a breath, but it somehow trickled down her neck, her back, spreading like hot treacle.
She sighed, and leaned forward, feeling her eyes close gently as her mouth found his, as his tongue touched hers, as they tasted each other again. A gentle, languorous kiss. Then Jake’s mouth grew more insistent and he pulled her into his arms.
‘Ow!’ The cufflinks in Darcie’s pocket jabbed her soft flesh.
‘Whoops.’ Jake delved delicately into the pocket, touching her breast through the fabric of her shirt, removed the cufflinks and balanced them on the arm of the sofa. Then he climbed to his feet and pulled her up and into his arms, all in one movement. His hands dropped to cup her buttocks and pull her groin deliciously against his. She kissed him, nipping his lower lip.
He murmured against her mouth, ‘I have wanted you so much and for so long.’
She groaned. ‘Me, too.’
The ridiculously narrow stairs were a challenge for two people to climb side by side, but a stumbling kind of progress was possible if the two people were twined tightly enough around each other to slide between the walls. Undressing became a game of mobile, vertical twister. They reached the bedroom and nakedness at roughly the same time. For a moment they just held on.
Then Jake’s hands were tracing the bones of her back, his mouth touching her lips, her throat, her breasts, until she could only breathe in gasps, her body arching towards him, pulling him closer.
And when he entered her she experienced a spasm so intense that for several seconds she stopped breathing altogether, craving his body, the feel, the taste. When she cried out he was watching her face, and she thought she’d never seen anything so erotically beautiful as the blaze of hunger in his eyes. She wished that life were so simple that he could stay inside her forever, and she’d be utterly happy.
On Saturday afternoon, Ross walked to the Wellbourne Workshops, having decided that if he did the right thing without being told it might make Darcie happy. He’d been a lot of trouble to Darcie lately. Being off school hadn’t been as much fun as he might have thought; teachers had sent home tons of course work because he had his GCSEs next year. Being shoved downstairs had been even less fun but at least being back in school allowed his mates to see him before he healed. A black eye looked so cool.
The door to Darcie’s workshop stood open and he trod softly in. ‘I’ve come up to thank Jake for what he did.’
She jumped, almost dropping a cardboard box in her arms. ‘Ross!’ Then, recovering from his sudden appearance, as he’d hoped, she looked pleased. ‘OK. I’ve already thanked him. But I’m sure he’d appreciate you doing it yourself. I’m about to take these lampshades over to him for the shop.’
‘I’ll help.’ Ross stacked the first four boxes on the big wooden sack barrow that Darcie used on such occasions and manoeuvred it carefully over the steps, because it had a mind of its own, while Darcie warned, ‘Remember that stuff’s delicate,’ and went ahead to open the shop door.
As she stepped inside he heard her say, ‘Ross’s here. He’s manning the sack barrow for me.’
By the time Ross had manhandled the wayward barrow in, Jake was on his way over to receive the boxes, each labelled in Darcie’s loopy handwriting, affordable geometric red or affordable geometric green. ‘That eye’s pretty impressive.’
Ross grinned. ‘Doesn’t hurt much now, unless you press it.’ He pushed it with his fingertip and grimaced, to illustrate his point. ‘Thanks again for helping me out. I was definitely outnumbered.’
‘Guys like that wouldn’t have it any other way. The police haven’t been able to pin any involvement on your old friend, Casey, then?’
Ross snorted. ‘The police called Darcie yesterday to say that they’d spoken to Casey but, by the sounds of it, she’d just looked them in the eye and denied any involvement. There’s no evidence, and gut feelings don’t score points with the police.’ He hadn’t thought of a way to get back at Casey, yet, and that was irritating. He began to reverse the barrow. ‘I’ll go get the other four boxes.’
In a few minutes he returned with the second load. The shop area was deserted but he had been in the shop often enough to know where the stockroom was. He trucked his fragile load carefully past the glass shelves and propped the barrow upright outside the stockroom, hefted the top two boxes, groped at the handle with his elbow, pushed simultaneously with his shoulder and made his entrance.
Just in time to see his sister spring away from Jake Belfast so fast that she made the closed circuit TV monitor rock and Jake had to shoot out a steadying hand. Darcie’s cheeks flamed.
Ross halted. Oh. Right. Fine. So, what? Was he supposed to pretend not to notice? He passed the boxes to Jake and went out for the others. Pausing for the door to swing shut behind him, he knocked loudly. ‘Is it safe to come in this time?’
Darcie snatched the door open, redder than ever. ‘Of course!’
He dropped the boxes into the waiting arms of a grinning Jake. ‘You should tell me what’s going on and then I would be more careful.’
Darcie glanced at Jake with a growing smile. ‘It’s all quite … new.’
Jake winked at Ross. ‘Maybe for her.’
‘You still could’ve told me.’
‘She could,’ Jake agreed, raising one eyebrow at Darcie.
Darcie met his gaze. ‘And have you told Kelly?’
He grinned, suddenly. ‘Now that you mention it … not yet.’
Darcie nodded, and moved the conversation on to the new stock. Apart from casting the occasional glance at the closed circuit TV monitor, Jake seemed content to leave the shop to itself for a while, linking his fingers loosely through Darcie’s.
Seemed like the kind of thing you ought to do with someone you liked. Not be pushed off all the time, like bloody Casey did …
On the TV monitor, Ross noticed a girl come into the shop, long dark hair hanging down her back, and thought for a frozen moment that he’d actually conjured Casey up from his thoughts. But, no – the girl turned around to face the camera and he saw that it wasn’t her. Jake took a moment away from Darcie to watch, and check that the video tape was rolling but, picking up and putting down, the girl was obviously a browser rather than a shoplifter.
Ross stared at the black and white image of the girl leaving the shop, an idea forming at the edge of his mind, quickening his heart. ‘Think I’ll go down town,’ he said, carelessly, before the idea could fade. ‘I’ll dump the barrow back in your workshop, Darcie.’
It was over a mile from the workshops to the town centre but Ross’s long st
ride ate the distance. He wandered up and down High Street, in and out of shops, hands shoved in his pockets as he tried to find what he wanted. It took a little while, but then he found exactly the right place, Patsy’s Emporium, the cool shop in town that played whale music and sold henna tattoos, scented candles and silver jewellery. It was exactly the kind of place Casey would hang out.
Even then, he couldn’t really see exactly how to make his plan work without knowing more about what was happening with Casey. The school was alive with rumours, but he needed to know.
Chapter Fifteen
Darcie arrived home almost at the same time as Ross. She was glad to have the opportunity to talk to him alone. Jake’s presence was disturbing on all kind of levels and trying to give Ross answers when she wasn’t sure of them herself would feel like a special kind of awkward. ‘Do you mind I didn’t tell you about Jake?’ she demanded, pulling off her jacket and hanging it over the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. They could do that now Mum wasn’t there to sigh about it.
He shrugged. ‘Just wondered why you hadn’t.’
She gave him a quick hug. ‘I suppose I didn’t know what to tell you. There’s something happening but I don’t know what. It really just—’
‘Happened?’ he supplied. He gave her a quick squeeze before letting her go. ‘Will you do me a favour?’
‘Probably,’ she agreed, cautiously, heart beginning to sink. Her relationship with Dean ending so soon after the loss of Mum and Dad, maybe Ross felt weird about something to do with Jake? She hadn’t really done more than go out on the occasional date in the last couple of years and Ross hadn’t had to deal with her love life. Maybe he was anticipating Jake staying the night. She could imagine him stigmatising it as ‘gross’ and—
‘Would you ring Casey’s mum?’
Her attention skipped awkwardly to the fresh subject. ‘Why?’
He scowled. ‘There are all these rumours at school about her being arrested but I don’t even know whether she’s coming back to school. Whether I’ve got to deal with her at some point. Nobody tells me. It’s really getting to me.’ He rubbed at the pattern on the carpet with his toe.
‘Oh,’ she said slowly. ‘I suppose I could ask her. But her first reaction might be to tell me to go jump.’
‘Yeah, OK. Thanks.’ And, in the way of teenage boys, he launched himself suddenly at the bottom step and disappeared up to his room.
Darcie took a shower and blow-dried her hair, thinking about Ross’s request. She wasn’t totally on board with it, if she was honest with herself, but she’d do almost anything to help Ross. He’d had so much to deal with, losing Mum and Dad so young, and then, just when he seemed to be getting used to his new normality, being made a mug of by young Casey. It wasn’t to be wondered at that the uncertainty of whether Casey was returning to school was playing on his mind, especially if she had been behind the attack on him.
Reluctantly, she went down to find the entry for Lynda McClare in the telephone directory, and dialled. ‘I hope you don’t resent this call,’ she began.
Lynda, obviously a much nicer person than her daughter, made a sound that could have been a laugh, or a sob. ‘I should imagine your family has more right to feel resentful than mine. Casey has behaved badly and your Ross is on my conscience – although he doesn’t seem to be on Casey’s; she’s just lying around in her room as if the holidays have started early. They’ve allocated her a new school, but she won’t go. Now the authorities are talking to me about a special educational unit but I suppose the truth is that she’ll be sixteen in less than a year and past the age of compulsory education.’ She drew in a wavering breath, before bursting out, ‘I’m worried sick about her, if you want the truth.’
All antipathy dissolving in the face of such wretchedness, Darcie’s heart melted, and even though Ross had padded downstairs when he heard her voice and had now propped himself against the door jamb to listen, she was sympathetic. ‘I’m really sorry to hear that. I was trying to find out whether Casey would be returning to Rowlands for Ross’s sake, but I hadn’t really thought how horrible it must be for you. I expect Casey was arrested, was she, like Ross?’
‘It was a nightmare. The police were quite nice, and we had a solicitor and everything, but they had all those phones as evidence and that friend of Ross’s gave a statement that she sold his own phone back to him, so she was charged and we’re waiting to hear when she goes to the Youth Court. The school doesn’t want her back.’
‘And what about Zoë?’
‘Her! Never heard of again. Casey simply refuses to admit she ever existed and if I hadn’t seen her with my own eyes I might even believe her. But,’ she lowered her voice, ‘I think Casey’s pining for her. Waiting for her to get in touch. I suppose the woman’s got more sense than that, though. Knows the police are interested in her.’ She paused. ‘And then I understand that Ross got roughed up? The police came to see Casey again, but she denied it was anything to do with her.’
‘Well, there wasn’t any evidence, was there?’ said Darcie, diplomatically.
‘No,’ said Lynda. And sighed.
Darcie ended the call and filled Ross in on the details he hadn’t been able to glean from her end of the conversation. He nodded, slowly. ‘Thanks. I feel better, now I know she’s being done. Nasty cow,’ he added, venomously. ‘Thanks, Darcie. I’m going to Jonny’s, OK?’
Ross was soon knocking on Jonny’s from door and saying hi to Jonny’s mum, who knew him well enough to send him straight up to Jonny’s room. ‘Casey McClare wouldn’t recognise your phone number, would she?’ he asked, as soon as he’d settled on a corner of Jonny’s bed to watch him play Super Mario Kart. Jonny was Donkey Kong, predictably enough, which meant he could only drive the heavy cars, barging everyone out of his way. Ross preferred Yoshi – still cool but you could select a medium weight car and use a bit of skill and finesse.
Jonny kept his eyes glued his TV screen, his thumbs busy on his blue Wii controller and his black nunchuk. ‘Nope. Never had more to do with her than I had to.’
‘Can I use your phone to text her, then?’
‘Why?’ The thumbs moved faster and Jonny gave a little crow of delight as he barged a virulently coloured Bowser off the track.
‘Piss her off.’
‘OK.’ A quick pause of the game for Jonny to dig his phone out of his pocket, then Jonny went back to racing virtual circuits, cursing quietly under his breath as he drifted wide at a corner, tyres sparking blue, whilst Ross took Casey’s number from his own phone and began to text.
Its me. Got new phone number cops wont know. Z xxx
He watched Jonny’s Donkey Kong get bounced over some rocks, the virtual tyres squealing as if in dismay. Jonny never watched his power ups or where opponents were on his circuit map. He hoped this tournament was finished soon, so Jonny would go two-player with him, and Ross and Yoshi could kick his arse.
To his satisfaction, he had to wait only a minute for Casey’s reply. She wasn’t even cool enough to wait half an hour before replying.
Wicked lol r u OK xxxxxx
Fine thx r u?xxx This was really easy.
Yeh but my mum is a cow and cops r shit. im supposed to go to new school but not going. I didnt tell cops anythin lol
Love ya for that hun. Miss u. Can we meet up? R u grounded? xxx Ross grinned to himself to think of Casey receiving that and wondering how serious that love ya might be.
I can get out. want to meet Where? xxxxxxxxoxoxox
How bout tomorrow afternoon at 4 at patsys emporium. Round corner where crystals r so no one sees xxx
Yeh cant wait xxxxxoxoxoxo
Z x
Ross dropped Jonny’s phone on the bed and picked up another games controller, because Jonny’s fourth level was just ending and they could go to multiplayer. ‘If she texts your phone, forward it to me.’
Jonny just grunted, sighing in frustration as he was overtaken on the line, which pushed him back to fourth, off the
podium.
It seemed like school would never end. Ross had to spend lunch and break wearing one of those loathsome yellow bibs and stuffing litter into black bin bags, then get his report card signed by his form teacher at the end of the day. Then he sprinted off into town, hiding himself in the cheap clothes shop opposite Patsy’s Emporium and flicking through the same rack of jeans, over and over, waiting for Casey to appear.
Then, just when he thought she’d smelled a rat and wasn’t going to turn up, she strode into view, hands stuffed in the pockets of a floor length black coat, hair flying. He gave her ten seconds after she’d disappeared into the shop, then sprinted after her, ducking through the door and flashing the woman behind the counter a smile as he made his way to the back of the shop past purple wizards, whose long thin wands were really incense sticks, and cases of vaguely gothic looking jewellery, following round to the right until he reached the place where crystals were displayed under pink spotlights.
And there Casey McClare stood, checking her phone.
‘Hey,’ he said softly, as he popped into her view.
She stared out from between artistic sweeps of eyeliner, glancing behind him.
‘She’s not coming.’ He made himself as wide as possible, arms folded.
‘What do you mean? What are you doing here?’
‘I’m pretending to be Zoë, who has dumped your arse.’ Ross grinned. ‘Like I pretended last night by text. “Love ya for that, hon,”’ he quoted. ‘You’re such a loser, Casey. Mooning after some older babe who’s been using you as a fence but letting you think she had feelings for you.’
Casey’s dark eyes burned with anger and she stepped to her right as if to dodge around him. Ross easily moved left and blocked her in. ‘Loser,’ he taunted. ‘Stupid little girl loser. You thought you were so fucking clever, didn’t you? Trying to make a mug out of me? But I’m OK, Casey. The police let me off, because all the evidence pointed to you. Zoë got away by dumping you, knowing you were too in lurve with her to dob her in. Neither of us are going to court to get community service or crap. Neither of us have been kicked out of school and have to go to a special unit. It’s just you, lost-your-girlfriend-Casey.’ He stepped right, blocking her path again. ‘Nothing bad happened to me. Just you.’
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