‘Is it all right if I have mine later?’ she said tentatively, picking up a strawberry from the bowl and biting into it. Sweet juice ran over her lip and she stifled a sigh of pleasure at the intense taste. It was the strawberriest strawberry ever. Even the glass of tap water she’d drunk just now was colder and sweeter and better than water usually was.
It was as though someone had come along with a big set of paints and made the world more colourful too; even the light was sharper and more crisp. Maybe it was just because it had rained earlier. Or maybe it was the thought of the swim later, just her and Leo in the water . . .
Mum was staring at her. Tara’s attention jerked back to the present. She smiled weakly.
‘One, stop pinching the dessert,’ said Mum, tapping Tara’s hand lightly with a finger, ‘and two, I wanted us all to be together tonight. Why? Where are you wanting to be?’
Don’t blush, Tara willed herself. Just DON’T BLUSH.
She blushed.
Tara pulled her hair across her face as though she was playing with it, in an attempt to hide the flush staining her cheeks.
‘Some mates at school have invited me round to go swimming with them at the pool.’ It was a pool, so that bit was true. It just wasn’t the pool her mum would think she meant, with or without the mythical BFFs.
She could see Mum’s mixed emotions playing across her face. She plastered on a pleading smile to her own, jutting her bottom lip and putting her palms together, prayer-style.
Mum let out a big sigh but Tara could see she was pleased by the warmth in her eyes.
‘I don’t know . . .’ She beamed then. ‘Between you and Beck, you wear me out with your social lives.’
Tara grinned back, relieved, even if she felt a nudge of sadness at Mum’s optimistic words. She’d known the ‘friend’ thing was her trump card. She knew how much her parents worried. Even if no one ever spoke about it, directly, the events in February still invaded their space.
Later, she stood outside the lido, trying to calm her cantering heart rate. She’d had to carefully time her journey so she wouldn’t be early. This had meant having to do a lap round the block to kill some time. And that had made her too hot. Now, she wiped her damp palms along the sides of her favourite green tunic dress and then looked down to check it wasn’t magically longer, shorter, bigger or smaller than when she’d left the house. She gave it a tug anyway and stepped forward, trying to lift her chin confidently.
It struck her then that she didn’t know how she would get in. There was a metal meshed door across the entrance so she could see into the pool. She knocked tentatively against the rough metal wire and it rattled noisily.
Leo appeared on the other side. His eyes met hers only for a second. Could it be that he was nervous too? He came forward and opened the door with a heavy bunch of keys. Tara had a momentary desire to flee but then he looked up and smiled. Something loosened in her chest and belly. He was wearing long swimming shorts, a short-sleeved checked shirt and flip-flops.
‘Hey,’ he said quietly. ‘You came then.’
‘Looks like it.’ She followed him into the pool area. It seemed tidier than usual. The loungers had evidently been given a bit of a wipe down. The cool turquoise water of the pool lay like a silk sheet, free of floating leaves and crisp packets.
‘Like what you’ve done with the place,’ she said and Leo gave a short laugh.
Goose pimples rose on Tara’s arms. The thought of getting undressed and stepping into cold water seemed ridiculous.
‘You can have the pool to yourself if you want,’ said Leo, his voice almost a whisper again. ‘I can go in after.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Tara hurriedly. ‘You can swim if you like. I don’t need the whole thing to myself.’
Leo’s face relaxed a little. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘see you in there.’
He was regretting inviting her here, she could tell. Maybe she shouldn’t have come . . .
Leaving now would be downright weird, she reasoned, so she headed off to a changing room. She glanced back to see Leo peel off his shirt and kick off his flip-flops before he dived neatly into the deep end. So easy for boys.
She spent a while getting comfortable in her bikini, fussing about whether it covered everything it needed to cover. And the opposite. She finally emerged from the cubicle, wondering if she was giving Leo the wrong impression by coming here.
Her shoulders were hunched over, her arm across her belly protectively, when she stepped out onto the poolside. She’d never felt so pale-skinned in her life and she had a savage longing for tanned limbs like never before. Surely she was glowing with her bluey-whiteness, like the neon planets she’d had on her bedroom ceiling when she was little.
But Leo wasn’t looking at her. He was swimming with long, efficient strokes, his dark head emerging and dipping, seal-like, eyes hidden under his swimming goggles, the water fanning like angel wings behind him.
Tara plunged down the steps and entered the water far quicker than her usual hesitant dipping. She badly needed to do something, anything, with her awkward body. She pushed away from the edge and swam, determined to ignore Leo going the other way.
This was better. Soon she began to relax, concentrating only on the sensation of cutting through the cold, silky water.
She swam length after length until her arms and legs began to tingle with fatigue. Best not to dive today. Her hair probably looked bad enough anyway. She had a sudden, vivid image of herself wearing a hat like Daisy Lady. What would Leo think about that? She suppressed a surge of giggling inside.
When she climbed out, Leo was standing by the sun loungers, dressed again and in dry shorts. The checked shirt stuck damply to his chest. Tara forced her eyes to swerve from the perfect golden triangle at the V of the collar.
She flashed a damp smile at him and headed for the changing room, unclear about what was going to happen next. Her skin tingled with anticipation and nerves.
She got dressed and tied the belt on her green tunic dress with trembling hands, trying to arrange the slashed neckline at the most flattering angle. She combed through her hair and twisted it into a messy bun, pulling some strands down so it wouldn’t look too neat. She squinted into the small round mirror she kept in her swimming bag. Her hair looked too artful and deliberate now. Tara hastily pulled it down again and ruffled it a bit around her shoulders. That would have to do.
The sky was overcast when she emerged from the changing room but the air was soft and warm on her bare arms. In the distance she could hear laughter and voices from what sounded like an evening football match. Floodlights from the pitch bathed the lido in a yellow glow. A car alarm in the distance blared and then stopped. The pool water lapped gently at the tiles around the edge, a gentle breeze ruffling the surface. The details of everything seemed pin sharp but this wasn’t the scary pixelated sensation she had during her funny turns. It was like being even more alive than usual. It was the opposite of those bad feelings, in fact. They took her somewhere dark; here everything was light.
Leo had put a picnic blanket on the grass. Technically, it was a faded sheet as far as she could tell, but it was still a nice touch.
A bulging carrier bag sat on the sheet. Tara looked at Leo questioningly. He made a vague gesture at the bag, avoiding her eyes.
‘My dad,’ he said, ‘he cooks, like, all the time. There was a load of stuff we’re never going to eat and I thought I’d bring it, you know, in case you were hungry after the swimming. But it’s all right, you don’t have t—’
‘Brilliant,’ said Tara at the same time, ‘I’m starving.’
They both laughed. Leo dropped down onto the sheet to open the containers. Tara came over and sat, delicately pulling her dress down as it rode up. Sitting on the ground hadn’t been in the plan when she’d chosen her outfit earlier.
She gazed down at the various Tupperware containers. There was fancy bread, olives, some sort of cakes that looked a bit like cream horns, and slices of salami
.
‘Ooh, this looks great,’ she said and bit into a piece of bread, which was salty and oily and about the best thing she’d ever tasted. A wash of shame came over her for her snobby thoughts in Leo’s kitchen before.
‘It’s focaccia,’ said Leo. ‘Homemade. You’ve got to have one of these as well.’ He nudged the container with the cream horn things towards her. ‘They’re called cannoli. They’re like heart attacks on a plate, but they’re kind of great too.’
It seemed a strange thing for a boy to say. Tara finished the bread and bit into a cannoli. Creamy sweetness exploded in her mouth and soft flakes of pastry rained down onto her dress. It took some effort not to groan. Only then did she notice Leo wasn’t eating much but picking at the olives.
‘See what you mean,’ she said, as she finished it. ‘Lovely, though. He’s a brilliant cook, your dad.’
‘Yeah,’ said Leo ruefully, ‘bit too good.’ He caught her puzzled look. ‘I was a real porker when I was a kid.’ He made a funny face, puffing out his cheeks.
‘Really?’ she said.
He nodded.
Tara was surprised. She couldn’t imagine Leo had ever been anything but gorgeous. Maybe that was why he wasn’t as confident as he might be, given the overall package. Maybe that was why he seemed a little shy.
‘Yep.’ He leant back and rested his head on his hands, looking up at the sky, which was pearly grey now. ‘Got bullied all the time. So I got to Year Nine and I decided to do something. Started swimming.’
Tara didn’t know what to say, but somehow it seemed okay to say nothing at all.
Leo bought Diet Cokes from the machine and he took a long drink from his can. Tara watched his Adam’s apple bob gently in his tanned throat out of the corner of her eye. Then she picked at a thread on the sheet, eyes down.
It took a few moments to realise it was raining. It was only when dark splotches began to star the sheet that they jumped to their feet. She helped Leo hastily gather up their stuff as the sky seemed to rip open and rain pounded on their heads and shoulders. Laughing, Leo grabbed the sheet and remaining food, Tara the towels and wet swim stuff.
Leo gestured to the loungers that were protected by a jutting section of roof. He sat down on one. Tara sat down uncertainly on the next one along. They were facing each other, their knees almost touching. His, strong and brown as toast, hers, pale as snow.
The sky was blue-black now, bruised and boiling. The pool was studded by plopping raindrops. It was dramatic and beautiful. It felt like anything could happen here. Anything at all.
‘Do you deliberately make it rain every time I come to this pool?’ she said and then shivered as she realised Leo was looking at her intensely, not smiling.
She smiled anyway, self-consciously pushing back the hair that fell across her face. Time seemed to stop. She felt aware of every single centimetre of him, as though heat throbbed from his skin, but maybe it was her who was burning up.
Leo leant over and gently touched her lips with his. Shivers ran down her arms and back, and she opened her mouth a little bit and kissed him back. He tasted of salt from the olives. His warm hand cupped the side of her face.
The rain pounded in a steady beat, splashing hard on the tiled floor. Tara’s feet were getting wet, her toes slippery in her sandals. The kiss went on, deeper and more intense, and then Tara pulled away. She’d had a sudden memory of kissing Jay, flustering her. Look how that turned out. She remembered how much it had hurt. Wasn’t she supposed to be protecting herself from this happening again?
Neither of them spoke.
‘I’m glad we’re not having an awkward silence, anyway,’ said Leo after a few moments.
A laugh burst from Tara and she looked at him, grateful he’d eased the intensity of the atmosphere.
‘Was that . . . okay?’ he said, his eyes navy blue in the fading light. ‘I mean, was it okay that I did it?’
‘It was definitely okay,’ said Tara, her voice a bit husky. She had to cough and clear her throat. ‘There was someone where I lived before and he . . .’ She swallowed. The last thing Leo would want was her getting all heavy on him. Didn’t boys hate that stuff? But he did seem different to a lot of boys . . . Different enough to give Tara the courage to be honest. ‘Well, he hurt me. You know. A lot. He was a real piece of work.’ She looked up, emboldened. ‘But that was more than okay.’
Leo was looking into her eyes intently. She could see flecks of gold in the dark blue of his irises. The tiny scar through his eyebrow seemed whiter, more sharply drawn than she’d ever noticed before.
He smiled and then leant over, kissing her very gently again.
The rain thrummed and pounded around them. It was like being in a bubble; protected from the world.
Some time later, as Tara began to feel quite lost, Leo pulled away and checked his watch. He groaned, then leapt up in one fluid motion. ‘Park closes soon so we’d better get going. I’ll drive you home.’
He smiled down at her. Tara smiled back, glowing inside.
The windscreen wipers throbbed and swished in a soothing rhythm, which added to the pleasant heaviness in Tara’s limbs. She’d like to have driven around all evening, listening to the rain and smelling Leo’s warm, chlorinated skin so close. He caught her eye and grinned, prompting warmth to ooze through her again. The headlights of cars were caught by the puddles in the road so they flashed gold.
As they approached Tara’s road, she asked him to pull in down the street a little way, to prevent the third degree from Mum when she got in. He turned off the engine and looked at her. She felt shy now, unsure what to do, but Leo leant across and kissed her quickly, a gentle pressure on her lips. He smiled.
‘I’m glad you came tonight,’ he said.
‘Thanks for the swim,’ she whispered. ‘And the picnic. Tell your dad I liked his food.’
Leo grinned. ‘Better not. You’ll never hear the end of it. Here . . .’ He reached for his phone. ‘Let’s swap numbers.’
They did so, exchanging shy, pleased grins too. Tara noticed another missed call from an unknown number. Must have been when she was swimming.
‘See you at the pool?’ Leo said.
She grinned. ‘Oh, I expect so.’
‘When?’ he said.
‘Soon. Not sure when.’ She knew better than to be too keen. ‘Night.’ She leant over and gave him a quick peck before opening the door and almost tumbling out onto her wobbly limbs.
Tara tried to replay the entire evening in her head, but it infuriated her that she had already forgotten tiny details. What was Leo’s exact expression when he’d moved in for the first kiss? How long had it really gone on for? She wished she could watch it all, like a film, pressing pause on the kiss so she could live through it all over again.
So much for protecting her heart, she thought. It already felt too late for that. Maybe she deserved a chance at happiness after all?
CHAPTER 11
KNIFE
Tara glided around for most of the evening with a dreamy expression on her face. No one noticed, thankfully. Before bedtime, she was looking for her lip balm and remembered it might be in her messenger bag. She padded downstairs in her slipper socks to find it. Mum and Dad were watching television, and didn’t hear her coming down. She was grateful, hoping to keep the delicate bubble of time with Leo around her a little longer. She didn’t want to talk to anyone else.
She found her bag and took it back up to her bedroom. Then she dumped the contents out onto the bed. Distractedly, she rifled through the books that lay scattered over the green throw.
She quickly found the lip balm under her history book but as she went to remove the lid, her hands stopped and her breath froze in her throat.
The silver treble clef earring she’d found in Melodie’s locker lay there, accusingly.
Tara’s stomach clenched. She’d forgotten she’d dropped it into her bag. Should she give it to Leo? But how would she explain having it in the first place? She should have th
rown it away when she had the chance. Tara reached for the earring and as her fingers made contact, the walls seemed to suck inwards. Her heart pounded in a slow, sickening rhythm that hurt her chest and her throat seemed to close. The familiar bedroom around her faded and again she saw the single lightbulb swinging over a narrow cot bed, where she could now see a figure lay hunched.
Tara gasped and tried to pull herself away but it was too late. Images flashed inside her head with sickening speed, coming and going as though lit by a strobe light.
A figure hunched over, holding a knife. Water lapping somewhere nearby with rhythmic slaps.
The delicate skin of an inner arm. The knife drawing ever closer . . .
Shhh . . . it’ll only hurt a little bit . . . be brave.
The blade cutting into soft flesh. White-hot agony.
No! Stop!
Words typed onto a piece of paper.
YOU HAVE TILL FRIDAY
THEN WE’LL CUT HER SOME MORE.
Please . . . I’m frightened! Help me! Someone!
With a sharp cry, Tara threw the earring out of her bedroom window.
Nauseous and icy cold, she pulled her legs to her chest and rocked, head resting on her knees.
‘Oh God, why me?’ she whispered. ‘Why does this keep happening to me?’
She started to cry softly and lay back against the cushions on her bed, staring up at the ceiling even though her eyes burned and throbbed. She was too frightened to close them. Who knew what she might see?
After a while she fell asleep. She dreamt she was wrapped in chains at the bottom of the lido pool. Someone was smiling down at her and she knew she was going to die soon. Then the face became a stone angel. It had Melodie’s cold, pretty features and it gradually began to topple towards her.
She woke up and found she was crying again.
Why wouldn’t it all just stop? She shook her head, trying to clear away the memories of what had happened earlier. The knife. The threat about something happening. On Friday? This Friday?
‘STOP IT!’ Her voice sounded shockingly loud in the slumbering house.
Hold Your Breath Page 10
