‘Don’t be like that,’ said Ginster.
‘Like what? I feel like you’ve both made a fool out of me. Why does everyone want to make me look stupid?’
Ginster glanced up at Clive’s hair and resisted the urge to say that he was doing a pretty good job of that on his own.
‘How are we trying to make you look stupid?’ asked Lynn, sympathetically.
‘Well, for ages Ginster’s been saying that you fancy me. And you, Lynn, kept looking at me when I was working and sending me texts, then when I asked you out you said no. Now that’s what I’d call playing games with someone.’
‘I’m sorry, Clive, you misunderstood. It wasn’t you I was looking at, it was Ginster. You both stand next to each other at the tills so it probably looked like I was looking at you. And I was texting to ask you about Ginster.’
‘Oh, right. That makes sense,’ replied Clive. He now felt even more stupid, but at least he knew neither of them was out to get him.
‘No hard feelings?’ said Ginster.
‘No, of course not.’ Clive said, still hurting on the inside.
Ginster held out his hand and Clive shook it. At that instance a violent screech of tyres came from outside, followed by numerous car horns beeping in protest. Everyone rushed to the windows to see what was happening. There was a blur of silver as a car sped past, its engine growling like a jet fighter. At the junction it nearly went through a red light and then its tyres screamed as it came to a halt beside the pavement.
‘Who the hell is that?’ asked Ginster.
‘That’ll be Lewis.’ Rachel answered.
The passenger door of Lewis’ Volvo opened first and out jumped a fearsome but beautiful blond-haired girl. She slammed the door hard enough to shatter all the windows. Her face was tightly pinched as she marched across the small park between the car and Le Bateau. She looked fierce enough to split an atom.
‘She’s really angry,’ said Cassie.
‘Who is she?’ asked Clive.
‘That’s Olivia, Lewis’ sister,’ said Rachel.
Clive was quite pleased to see that, for once, there was someone who looked unhappier than he did. A few seconds later, Lewis coolly emerged from the car, looking like he’d been plucked straight from the set of a Twilight movie. His face was the opposite of Olivia’s - a mask of pure calm.
Olivia pushed her way through the crowd and immediately found Rachel standing next to the bar. Everyone looked at Olivia to see what all the drama was about.
‘That freak of a brother of mine nearly killed us on the way here,’ she said. ‘He drove like a manic.’
‘Why?’ asked Rachel.
‘Why do you think?’ she snapped. ‘He wants to be Edward Cullen, so now he’s driving like him. He’s going to kill someone or get arrested. He’s an idiot.’
‘Take it easy, Olivia,’ Rachel put her arm around her, ‘Clive could you get Olivia a drink?’
‘Sure,’ said Clive. ‘What would you like?’
‘Don’t care, anything,’ Olivia replied.
Clive thought a ‘please’ might be nice. Who did this Olivia think she was? He didn’t like being ordered around. He’d had enough of that from Kat. He wondered whether he should just wander off and not bother getting her a drink, but Rachel was standing close by. He didn’t want to look rude in front of her. Clive could still hear what the two girls were saying and he desperately wanted to find out what was happening with Lewis.
‘I’m so sorry for getting angry just now,’ Olivia said, ‘but he’s getting worse. Do you see what I mean about him?’
‘Absolutely. I totally get it,’ Rachel said. ‘I’m going to talk to him, right now.’ Rachel left to find Lewis, leaving Clive alone with Olivia. He managed to get served and turned to face her holding out three drinks. His neck went hot as if he’d been sunburnt, as her cool blue eyes met his.
‘Er, I didn’t know what to get,’ he said. ‘So I bought you a range of things: vodka and orange, a Budweiser and a Bacardi Breezer.’
‘Oh, thank you. That’s very kind of you. The way I’m feeling I might just have all of them, but the beer will be just fine.’ Olivia took a large slug. ‘Sorry I didn’t catch your name.’
‘It’s Clive, Clive Richardson,’ he said, looking in every direction apart from Olivia’s. Why did he say his whole name? Nobody gives their whole name when they’re introduced. He sounded like he was at a job interview for a high street bank.
‘Clive Richardson?’ Olivia said. ‘I know that name from somewhere.’
Clive was now really confused, why in the world would this attractive and angry girl know who he was?
‘I remember, you wrote that story, didn’t you? A Love like… something.’
‘A Love Like Blood?’ Clive didn’t mean to say it as a question. He sounded like one of those annoying people who always go up at the end of their sentences.
‘That’s the one. I loved that story,’ Olivia said with a huge and perfect white smile. Clive wanted to hide or faint, or possibly both.
‘Do you mind if I drink this Bacardi Breezer?’ Clive said.
‘No go right ahead.’
Clive hated Bacardi Breezers but he needed to do something while he thought of something to say. His brain needed rebooting. Not only was Olivia stunning and charming, and a little angry, she had also read his book – and liked it. This wasn’t real, surely? Stuff like this never happened to him. He wasn’t stupid. Maybe someone was setting him up for a laugh. Clive regained what little composure he had.
‘But how, I mean, where did you get it?’
‘I found it on a chair in my house, I think Lewis left it there. He said he got it from Rachel.’
‘Ah, makes sense. She helped me write some bits of it.’
‘It’s really good stuff. Do you write anything else?’
‘Yeah, now and again.’ Clive said, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He was watching her face to see if she looked to the left, apparently people who were lying looked to the left. Or was it the right?
‘What sort of things?’ she said.
‘Sorry?’ said Clive.
‘What sort of things do you write?’
‘Oh, er.Lots of different things.’
‘I’d love to read some more of your stuff.’
‘Oh, er, wow. Superb.’
As far as he could tell, she wasn’t looking either left or right when she spoke, but right at him. Short of asking her to take a lie-detector test, she seemed genuine, which made it harder for Clive to deal with. She was actually interested in him. Clive could feel his shallow well of small talk dry up before the conversation had even got going. He stole a glance at her while she looked around the room. She was prettier than a summer’s day, and by far the most beautiful girl in the room, even more so than Rachel. It was all too much for Clive. He felt like he’d just stood up too quickly after a hot bath. Spaceship Clive began to go into a tailspin.
He told himself not to be so infatuated; he’d only just met her. But that was what he was like; he couldn’t pretend not to like someone. He had only two options: stay and get more tongue tied and ridiculous, or leave now with at least some dignity in tact. He chose the latter.
‘Er, listen, I need the loo, I’ve been drinking loads.’ Clive said, cringing inside and cursing himself for such a rubbish excuse.
‘Don’t let me stop you, then,’ said Olivia, with a little laugh.
Clive lost himself in the crowd and tried to find a quiet spot to sit and think. He felt odd that his feelings for Rachel could be so easily substituted by someone else. Maybe he wasn’t the deep and sensitive soul he thought he was. Perhaps he was shallow but never knew it.
Clive found it impossible to find anywhere remotely peaceful - the place was packed. Instead he went out to a small patio area at the back that was reserved for smokers. Clive looked strange standing there without a cigarette staring into space. A few people offered him a smoke but he declined politely. After a while he was left wi
th a slightly tipsy girl who swayed while she smoked.
‘That hair doesn’t suit you,’ she said, trying to focus on Clive.
‘What?’ said Clive.
‘I said that hair doesn’t suit you.’
‘Oh, why not?’ said Clive. He wasn’t so offended by the comment, it was more that his train of thought had been broken.
‘That style makes your head look fat.’ The alcohol had clearly robbed her of any subtlety she may have had. ‘You’ve actually got a nice face. You just need the right hair to suit it. Let me style you.’
‘What?’
‘I can style you. It won’t hurt. I won’t cut it or nothing.’ Without warning she grabbed Clive’s hair, still clutching her cigarette between her lips like a builder. It flicked up and down as she talked and she had one eye closed to stop smoke going in it.
‘Hey, get off,’ said Clive.
‘Trust me, I’m a hairdresser.’
At first, Clive tried to put up a fight as the girl ran her fingers through his hair, but then he realised it was quite a pleasurable experience. He swiftly gave in to the massaging effects of her fingertips.
‘What have you put on this?’ she asked.
‘Soap.’
‘Soap? No wonder you’ve got problem hair. We need to get it off. Look there’s a tap down there,’ she said pointing to an outdoor tap sticking out of the wall.
‘Are you sure this is necessary?’ asked Clive, who was now way out of his comfort zone, but curious to find out if this girl could make him look more attractive and less fatheaded.
‘Definitely. Now get your head under it,’ she said, pushing him towards the tap.
The gush of cold water made him gasp and he could feel it going down his neck.
‘Going on holiday this year?’ she said, laughing. But Clive didn’t get the joke. When she had finished she dried his hair as best she could using her jumper. Then she took a small tin out of her handbag.
‘What’s that? Hair gel?’ asked Clive.
‘No, wax.’ She took a generous dollop, rubbed it in her hands and started massaging it into Clive’s head, which was another very pleasant sensation. She pushed his hair back, but this time it had loose curls which seemed to be behaving themselves thanks to the stickiness of the wax. ‘The trick with curly hair if you’re a bloke is not to hide it, just to tame it. There you go,’ said the girl holding up a small mirror from her handbag.
‘Wow, that looks great,’ Clive replied, looking slightly Tarzan-ish. ‘I look quite cool.’
‘And sexy,’ said the girl slurring her words so the ‘s’ sounded like a ‘sh’. She grabbed him and planted an open-mouth kiss on his lips. ‘It’s all part of the service. Now go get ‘em tiger,’ She slapped him on the bum and disappeared back into Le Bateau.
Clive chuckled to himself. There was something bizarre happening in his brain, a weird sensation. He realised he was actually having fun. It made him relax like he’d never relaxed before and he even felt slightly mischievous. He’d allowed a complete stranger to wash and style his hair in a yard filled with cigarette butts, and it’d been exciting.
Normally whenever he went out nothing would ever happen to him, and he was always the one sitting there reading beer mats for something to do, which was why he never went out. He simply couldn’t see the attraction in it. Now he realised he needed to lighten up and just get stuck in and be sociable, that’s when things happened. Fun things. If he carried on taking himself off to the dark lonely corners of pubs and clubs then he’d always be the one left studying the beer mats. Clive decided to go and find Olivia.
*
Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off Lewis. She sat opposite him with a dopey half smile on her face. Her defences were well and truly overrun. The only thing spoiling the moment were the two daft yellow contacts he had in his eyes. They were a continual reminder of what she had to do: de-Cullenise him. But she kind of liked the way he looked. It was naff, corny and possibly a bit creepy, but he had been willing to transform himself into her hero. It was touching and exciting and definitely proof of his commitment. Lewis got plenty of giggles from passers by but he didn’t seem to care. He just stared back at Rachel, as if he couldn’t look anywhere else.
‘You look amazing,’ said Rachel.
‘Thank you, so do you,’ Lewis replied.
‘I’m pleased your nose is back to normal. I’m so sorry about that …’
‘Don’t say sorry again, it was an accident. Let’s just forget about it, okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘That dress looks incredible on you.’ Lewis smiled.
‘Thanks. I love your shirt,’ Rachel said, returning the smile.
‘Thanks.’
Rachel wondered where to take the conversation next. It seemed they might just bat compliments back and forth all night. He did look magnificent though. Another hand grenade of excitement went off inside of her, but it was a guilty pleasure. He wasn’t really Edward Cullen and the whole charade wasn’t very healthy for either of them. Looking at him was like eating too many cream cakes, nice at first but then it started to make you disappointed at your lack of self-control. More importantly, she had made a promise to Olivia. She decided to cut to the chase.
‘Why did you do it?’ she asked.
‘What?’
‘This Edward thing.’
‘I think you know,’ he said. Rachel saw his eyes darting around her face, taking her all in.
‘I want you to tell me.’ Rachel tried to look serious.
‘I did it for you,’ he said, sounding just as serious.
‘For me? And what were you hoping to get out of it?’
‘You, of course.’
Rachel looked at the table savouring the moment. Finally she said: ‘Well, you’ve got me.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Oh man, this is the happiest day of my life.’ Lewis jumped up and knocked his chair over. ‘We’re going to be so good together. I’m going to make you the happiest girl on the planet.’ He leaned across to kiss her. She moved back out of the way, so his lips missed.
‘There’s one condition,’ she said.
‘What? Anything, I’ll do anything for you. Tell me what it is.’
‘I want you to stop acting like Edward Cullen.’
Lewis looked like he’d been hit by an invisible brick wall. The smile left his face. He picked up his chair and slumped back down like a sack of beans.
‘I like the way I look,’ he said. ‘I thought you did too.’
‘Yep, I do and I love Twilight. It’s just … I want to go out with Lewis, not Edward.’
‘But I thought that’s what you wanted,’ Lewis said. He wasn’t looking at her now and his hands were pushed deep into his pockets.
‘I don’t want an Edward clone,’ she said. ‘What I do want is someone who’s going to be my soul mate.’
‘I want to be your soul mate,’ he said. But there was no conviction in his voice.
Rachel knew she would have to work hard to pull this back.
‘I’m flattered you did all this for me,’ she said, ‘but it’s not necessary. Let’s keep Edward where he belongs - in the books.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t think I can do this.’ Lewis slid further down his chair.
‘Lewis, don’t do this,’ Rachel said, reaching across the table hoping he would reach back and hold her hand. But it stayed firmly at the bottom of his pocket. ‘We could have something really brilliant together. Don’t ruin it for the sake of this.’
‘It’s who I am now.’
‘No it’s not. Edward is a made-up person, you’re not, you’re real and I like the real you. Besides you did this for me, remember? We’re together now, you don’t need this anymore.’
‘Yes, I do.’ Lewis stood bolt upright, making his chair topple over again. Without looking back, he disappeared into the mass of bodies that were n
ow pushing Le Bateau over the edge of health and safety standards.
‘Edward!’ Rachel called out. ‘Damn it, I mean, Lewis!’ She tried to follow him but he’d been swallowed up by the mass of bodies. She pushed her way through the sweaty crowd and saw that Cassie and Matt hadn’t moved. They were deep in conversation. It looked like their relationship had got off to a better start than Rachel’s.
‘Have you seen Lewis?’ Rachel asked.
‘I think he just left,’ Matt replied without taking his eyes off Cassie.
‘Is everything okay?’ asked Cassie.
‘I’ll tell you later.’ Rachel opened the front door of Le Bateau and felt the cold air graze her face. She looked up and down the street but it was deserted. Then she spotted Lewis across the road standing in the middle of the park. A mist had descended and he looked like a dark statue. Rachel crossed the road and walked towards him. She was worried that if she surprised him he might bolt like a wild animal.
‘Lewis,’ she called out. ‘Are you okay?’
Chapter 19
*
As more people stuffed themselves into Le Bateau’s, it was becoming like the tube at 5.30 on a Friday afternoon. Ginster and Lynn were getting squished further and further into a corner so that Lynn’s bum was getting moulded into a right angle. Ginster’s personal space was being violated and, not being much of a people person, he was finding it hard being this close to real human beings.
Everyone, including the men, wore sickly sweet perfumes; the sort that cost ridiculous amounts of money because they’re named after some dumb celebrity, who’s also got a fitness DVD and twenty three autobiographies. The concoction of stenches, heat and alcohol was getting too much for him and he wanted to pant like a dog, or go and eat some grass to make himself sick. A thin film of sweat was forming on his forehead and all he could think about was being somewhere else.
‘Ginster, would you like to go somewhere else?’ Lynn asked.
‘Could we?’ he replied.
‘Of course, come on let’s get out here.’
‘We should say goodbye to Rachel first.’
Faye Meredith - Becoming Edward Page 19
