by Emma Davies
Callum rubbed at the steamed-up window. ‘Tell me about it,’ he muttered. He turned the blowers up to full. ‘I’ll drop you home if you’re okay to tell me where you live,’ he said. ‘It’s the least I can do, I can’t leave you here in the rain.’
She shot him a look, but his eyes were twinkling. ‘In that case, I live on Greenfield Avenue.’
‘Ah, the posh end of town; I might have known. I’ll go to Phoebe’s first then if that’s okay; she’s on the way. Seatbelt please.’
Lucy grinned and did as she was told.
*
The rain hadn’t eased at all by the time they got to Phoebe’s house, and while Lucy didn’t expect Callum to be long as he hurled himself out into the weather again, it seemed only a matter of seconds before he was back in the car. He threw himself back against the driver’s seat and closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling a deep breath.
‘Is everything okay?’ she asked.
Callum let out the breath in one huge rush. ‘Yeah, but her boyfriend was upstairs and didn’t sound very happy. I did a runner when I heard him on his way down for a “little chat”.’ His eyes were staring straight ahead. ‘I mean, what is it with people? I try to do the right thing and somehow I just end up in the wrong. Do I honestly have the word “pervert” tattooed across my forehead, because I’m beginning to wonder?’
Lucy wasn’t sure that Callum actually wanted a reply. She stared out the windscreen at the river of rain sliding down, before turning back to Callum.
‘I don’t know about you, but I don’t really want to go home,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy a pint, do you?’
*
The pub was quiet as Lucy carried two glasses across to a table beside a traditional roaring fire. Callum had angled his chair towards it and stretched out his legs. His eyes were closed.
She smiled as she put down the glasses. ‘There you go.’
He sat up immediately, an apologetic look on his face. ‘Sorry,’ he said unnecessarily.
‘Drying out?’
‘Falling asleep,’ he replied. ‘When I get my own place I’m going to have a real fire.’
His voice was soft and wistful, and it was an unusual comment, thought Lucy, coming from a man of his age.
‘They are lovely, aren’t they?’
Callum leaned forward to pick up his glass. ‘Thanks for this, but I really should have got these.’
‘No, no – my suggestion, my shout. Besides, have you not heard we’re living in the age of equality?’
‘Where chivalry is stone dead, and good manners don’t matter? Yes, I had heard.’
She turned to catch Callum’s eye.
‘Bit too aggressive?’ he said.
‘Just a touch,’ she replied, softening it with a smile.
‘Sorry,’ he said again.
She laughed. ‘You really do need to stop apologising, you know… and actually as a point of view it’s—’
‘Soppy?’
‘I was going to say refreshing… but just don’t beat me over the head with it, okay?’ She looked at his downcast face. ‘And there’s no need to apologise again either…’
He caught the inflection in her voice and looked up, realising she was teasing him. A smile spread slowly over his face.
‘So, come on – tell me about your brothers.’
Callum groaned. ‘Do I have to?’
‘No, but then you’d have to tell me about Phoebe instead.’
He held her look. ‘Okay… Well, I’m the youngest of five. My brothers and I tolerate each other but that’s pretty much it, mainly because they think I’m a twat, or gay, or pathetic – or all three, actually – while I think they’re all arrogant, foul-mouthed, uncaring and selfish.’
‘So, who’s right?’
Callum’s jaw dropped, and he opened his mouth to protest before Lucy held up her hand. ‘And before you answer that, let me say that I don’t think you’re a twat or pathetic – and I don’t think you’re gay, either; not that it would matter if you were, but it clearly matters to you a very great deal.’
The hand holding his glass trembled slightly as he brought it to his lips and he took several large swallows.
‘Why are we having this conversation?’ he asked eventually.
Lucy smiled. ‘How old are you, Callum?’
‘Nineteen, why?’
‘Because I’m wondering why someone who’s nineteen comes into my library nearly every day and yet although clearly very intelligent doesn’t seem to have a job. I also wonder why, while most unemployed nineteen-year-olds I know are surfing the net for mindless crap, this chap seems to be researching the analytics of web commerce, among other things, and has now taken a young lady under his very knowledgeable wing to help her plan her wedding.’
Callum swallowed hard. ‘I told you I was pathetic.’
‘No, you told me everyone else thinks you’re pathetic, and somewhere along the line you’ve started to believe them. What I see is someone who longs for something better but doesn’t quite know how to go about getting it. I see someone who knows very clearly what he wants from his life, but somehow doesn’t think he can ever attain it.’
‘Ouch. And I thought you were nice.’
‘Bit too aggressive?’
‘Just a touch.’
She raised her glass at him. ‘Touché,’ she said, smiling.
Callum visibly relaxed and started to grin. ‘That was very clever,’ he said.
‘See, I said you were intelligent. Most people wouldn’t have spotted my subtle ploy but I don’t hear you denying it. You do see where I’m coming from?’
‘I do,’ he sighed. ‘So, tell me then, clever clogs: what is it I want from my life?’
Lucy stared into the fire, wondering just where the conversation was going. ‘Well, I might be clever, but I’m not clairvoyant. Why don’t you tell me?’
‘Because it’s weird.’
‘Go on,’ she said slowly. ‘How can it be weird? Everybody wants something from their life, and underneath I think we’re all pretty much the same when it comes to that.’
‘Okay then,’ Callum challenged. ‘Tell me what you want from your life, and I’ll consider sharing my innermost desires. But you better make it good.’ He grinned at her.
Now she was on sticky ground. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go at all, and Lucy wouldn’t even be able to put her own thoughts about her future into words. ‘It was a general remark,’ she said, avoiding his question. ‘And anyway, I asked first, so that’s not fair. Come on, why are you weird?’
‘Because I’m too young to want the things I do. I’m not supposed to get round to thinking about these things for ages.’
Lucy frowned at him. He wasn’t making a great deal of sense. ‘Spit it out then. I promise I won’t laugh.’
His dark eyes bored into hers for a moment. ‘I want the romantic dream,’ he said, holding her look. ‘I want a wife, two kids, a dog, an open fire… Holidays by the sea, birthday cakes and candles, a pipe and slippers. Love, security and commitment – all of it.’
Lucy nearly dropped her glass.
‘But that’s lovely!’ she exclaimed. ‘Why wouldn’t you want that?’
He stared at her. ‘Because it’s mad, it’s a soppy fairy-tale… it’s not normal.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m nineteen.’
‘But I thought we already agreed that you’re not like most nineteen-year-olds.’
He shot her an exasperated look. ‘Jesus, you don’t ever let up, do you?’
Lucy sat back quietly, giving Callum some space. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly after a few moments. It wasn’t fair of her to keep pressing him when she couldn’t admit to her own dreams. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I guess it’s difficult when you come from a home that has none of the things you want for yourself.’
‘They can’t see it. None of them can. My mum and dad just spend their evenings drinking and smoking. They neve
r tell one another they love each other, we never hug – not me and them, or me and my brothers. There’s just no feeling, nothing nice, nothing human about it all. It’s all so meaningless. My brothers think it’s normal to treat people that way, to shag everything that moves and not give a toss. They make fun of me because I’m different. It never crosses their minds that there might be a better way.’
‘But that shouldn’t stop you from believing in it, from going out and getting what you want.’
‘I know, but it isn’t always that easy.’
Lucy nodded. ‘No, I don’t suppose it is,’ she said. ‘But you’ll get your dream one day, I know you will. It’s just a matter of time.’ She winced slightly at her righteous-sounding comment. Easy for her to say. Perhaps she should try and follow her own advice rather than preaching to other people. But then again knowing how Callum felt did make it easier to help him.
She took another sip of her drink. ‘Can I ask you one more question, Callum? Only one, I promise.’
‘Can I even stop you?’ he said, but he was smiling.
‘Where does Phoebe come into all this?’
Callum grinned, put down his glass and squinted up at her. ‘Well, this really is the pathetic part.’
Lucy raised an eyebrow.
‘She’s safe – Phoebe I mean. That’s how I can talk to her.’
‘I’m not sure I follow?’
Callum blushed slightly. ‘I don’t have much experience with girls… okay I don’t have any experience with girls. I’m a nerdy computer geek with a bunch of arsehole brothers who would make mine and any potential girlfriend’s life a living hell. Believe me it’s easier not to bother. And that’s fine except that it’s probably not going to get me very far along the road to my pipe and slippers.’ He took a glug of his beer. ‘The other thing I find is, as you quite rightly pointed out, my approach to… er, love and romance is not necessarily the same as many other blokes my age. It’s a very cynical world we live in, and you’re just going to have to trust me on this one, but if you start talking to a young girl and you’re nervous and tongue-tied and generally feeling like you need a large hole to swallow you up, they usually think you’re a creep, or hitting on them, or worse, and the conversation usually turns out to be not so great.’
‘So, it’s easier with Phoebe because she’s a bit older, is that it?’
‘No, it’s easier because she’s engaged to be married, and she knows I know she’s engaged to be married, which means she isn’t expecting me to be cool or flirty with her, and the fact that I’m actually helping her as well only serves to re-emphasise the fact. Ergo, I’m safe so she can talk to me, and she’s safe, so I can talk to her. Simple.’
Lucy gave him a disparaging look.
‘We are fulfilling a mutual need. I really need some help in not behaving like a total prat, and Phoebe has some great ideas, she just doesn’t know how to go about researching them. Plus, she can barely use a computer… could barely, she’s getting a lot better.’
Lucy picked up her own glass and drained the last of its contents, feeling her heart lift a little. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I’ve had an idea about that. Drink up and you can go and buy me another Coke.’
Callum gave her a quizzical look but did as he was asked. The idea had occurred to her before, and it seemed as good a time as any to see how Callum felt about it. All she needed now was to work out the detail. She frowned, staring into the fire. She wouldn’t be able to pin everything down, but she could flesh out the basic idea now and leave working out the rest until later.
‘I think you should be the library’s IT support, er, person,’ she said as soon as Callum had sat back down again.
‘Excuse me?’ he replied.
She leaned forward to pick up her drink. ‘I haven’t worked all the details out yet, but there are plenty of people like Phoebe who need help with the computers and, to be honest, we don’t always have the time.’
Callum grinned. ‘Or in Carrie’s case, the ability…’
Lucy shot him a look. ‘So, what I’m saying is, how would you feel about being on call to give advice? We could run sessions maybe two times a week and you wouldn’t have to do anything unless someone actually needed advice – just be there, that’s all. It would be a massive help to us.’
She could see the possibility running through his head.
‘And maybe in time, if it takes off, which I’m sure it will, we could even offer some structured classes one evening a week, so that you could give proper lessons.’ She bit her lip. ‘Only problem is that we wouldn’t be able to pay you, not for the drop-in sessions anyway – you’d have to be a volunteer, but if you’re going to be there anyway… and besides, just think how good it would look on your CV.’
Callum held up a hand as if to ward off a blow. ‘Okay, okay!’ he laughed. ‘Blimey, you don’t half get the bit between your teeth, do you?’
Lucy blushed. If only she could, at least where her own future was concerned. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I was getting a bit carried away, I know, but don’t you think it’s a brilliant idea?’
A slow smile worked its way up Callum’s face. ‘I do actually,’ he said, ‘which is why I’d love to do it. I mean, the thought terrifies me, but yeah, why the hell not?’
Chapter Eleven
Lia felt like she was flying, in her head at least. They hadn’t learned many steps yet, it was early days, but already she could see how the movements would flow together, how they would carry her around the room, her neck arched, her arms extended. She took a deep breath, like the wind filling her sails, and stepped forwards.
The class was quite small in number, only twelve altogether, with Lia, Hattie, and one other much older chap the only singletons. They were also the only real beginners; despite the fact that the class was advertised as ‘Beginners’ Ballroom’, everyone else had been coming for at least a term. It didn’t seem to matter though and now, on their third week, Lia was beginning to, quite literally, find her feet. She wasn’t entirely sure the same could be said for her friend, though.
Lia wondered whether Hattie was regretting her offer to come along for moral support. It wasn’t that she couldn’t dance, she picked up the steps just as quickly as everyone else, but she seemed rather ill at ease – self-conscious even. Most of the women wore the same sort of flippy skirts that Lia favoured but Hattie had insisted on a slightly longer black stretchy one, which she claimed was all she had. Coupled with a baggy tee shirt it was hard to see the lines her body was making in the large mirrors that surrounded them, and the skirt slightly hampered the movement of her legs at times. Still, she had a smile on her face – and perhaps that was the main thing.
Lia turned back to her own partner and grinned. Joe and his wife had been dancing for well over a year but now both of them had been paired with newcomers. At first Lia had worried that he wouldn’t be happy with this new arrangement, but he didn’t seem bothered by it and Lia was grateful for his easy-going personality; she’d lost count of the number of times she had stepped on his feet already, but he never seemed to mind. It hadn’t even occurred to her that they would be dancing with partners, or more specifically, men, and Lia had felt quite faint with nerves the first time she had been put with Joe. Hattie’s raised eyebrows and cheeky grin behind him did little to help.
The first time she simply held hands with Joe had aroused in her such a multitude of emotions it had pulled her up sharp. She was so used to having women around her and to suddenly find herself in such close proximity to a tall, rather solid man gave her the most vivid realisation of just how cloistered her life had become.
Joe was five feet nine; not the tallest of men, but not the shortest either, and to Lia he might as well have been a giant. Everything about him seemed huge: his hands, his feet, and the massive wall of chest that Lia couldn’t even see past if he was standing straight in front of her. She wasn’t used to it. The deep boom of his voice in her ear and his smell, which wasn’t unpleasant in any
way, but simply so very different from her female counterparts. The first time she had mentioned any of this to Hattie she had been met with shrieks of laughter, and had found out just how base her friend’s sense of humour could be. Hattie hadn’t meant any offence by it and on one level it had helped Lia to overcome her shyness and laugh at herself; she even felt a tiny flutter of excitement that she might one day be able to behave like any normal adult her age – but that prospect had also terrified her. The gulf between where she was now and where she might hope to be was vast, and Lia wasn’t sure the distance could ever be travelled.
So for the time being she had decided simply to dance; to focus her attention on the steps, the holds, the techniques, and to ignore any other emotions than those she felt when she was dancing. Those feelings she let fill her up, imprinting them on her brain so that the memory of them might sustain her through the week until it was time for the next class. She practised in the privacy of her own room at night, letting the sensations flood through her – but only ever of the dance, the passage through space, the form her body took, the beautiful stretch of her limbs. Beyond that she was not prepared to think, or feel.
Now, she came to rest again, another circuit of the room completed. They were still practising basic waltz steps, but instead of only turning slightly through the box shapes their feet were making, their tutor had encouraged them to step wider and turn further, playing the music over and over, each time slightly faster than the last. By the end of the class, the couples were whizzing around the room and Lia had completely given in to the wordless communication from her partner that kept her where she needed to be. She had never felt more alive. She didn’t know whether what she was doing was right or wrong, but for now it didn’t matter; what was important was being able to move, to relax and let her body take over. There would be time for technique and intricacy – now was all about trust and learning to let go.
Hattie came to a stop just behind her and Lia caught sight of her flushed face, still smiling but with a hint of sheen to it; they had been moving at quite a pace. She giggled at something her partner said, and then blushed an ever deeper red as she caught Lia’s eye and winked. The class would be ending in minutes and Lia was looking forward to their coffee together, something which had already become a tradition. No doubt she would find out then what Hattie had found so funny.
