by Dani Atkins
‘So, I’m guessing by the expression on your face when you walked in here that I look pretty bad.’
‘I wouldn’t say that. I’ve seen you look far worse.’
‘Oh yeah, like when?’
For a moment I was lost for a reply, and then the perfect one came to me.
‘When we had that Hallowe’en party in Warwick Road, and you dressed up as Beetlejuice.’
He frowned for a second, fighting the medication to pluck the memory from some forgotten recess in his mind. ‘Ah yes. That was quite a night, as I remember.’
I gave a long sigh, grateful he hadn’t forgotten the night that had been so pivotal in our relationship. For it was the night when everything had first begun to change.
Charlotte – Eight Years Earlier
The party had been Pete’s idea. ‘It’ll be great. It can double up as a belated housewarming bash.’
‘Very belated,’ David commented dryly. ‘We moved in over two months ago.’
Pete flapped his hand to bat away such a trifling detail. ‘We could have skeletons in the loo, and spiders everywhere, and those pumpkins with candles inside.’ He was like a hyped-up ten-year-old who’d consumed way too much sugar. ‘Come on, Charlotte, back me up here. They must have gone in for all that kind of shit when you were in California last year.’
I shrugged. ‘I guess so. It’s a big thing over there. For the kids,’ I teased, throwing a small cushion at his head.
He caught it deftly with one hand. ‘That’s us. A bunch of big kids. So it’s settled then?’
That was why, on a Saturday morning three weeks later, I was climbing a very rickety ladder we’d found in the garage, to begin transforming our fairly clean house into a haunted hovel. Positioned on the top rung of the set of steps was a box of decorations, consisting of numerous plastic spiders and metres of polyester fake cobwebs.
‘If we wanted it to look like that, we needn’t have bothered hiring a cleaner,’ observed David, walking past and casting a dubious look at the mildew-coated stepladder I was about to climb.
‘He is so not in the party mood,’ commented Mike, giving me a broad wink as I began to undo the roll of cobwebbing. ‘Have another fight with Ally, did you?’
My hands stilled on the roll of white billowy gossamer, as my eyes darted to David. His shoulders had flexed at Mike’s words, as though a sharply pointed arrow had found its way home, but aside from throwing his housemate a look that was more scary than any Hallowe’en mask I’d seen, he said nothing. I was desperate to know what Mike had been referring to, but it looked as though David had no intention of being drawn on the subject.
I thought back over the last three or four weeks, trying to remember if I’d seen or heard any hint of discord between them, and then felt guilty for realising I was disappointed when the answer came back as ‘no’. Not that Ally had been around much lately, but her schedule was more hectic than the rest of ours, and her work ethic considerably higher. Her absence had allowed me more opportunity to spend time in David’s company, which was a dual-edged sword, because the more I got to know him – on an ordinary day-to-day basis – the more I liked him. I had so wanted to grind my stupid seventeen-year-old’s fantasy of him to smithereens underfoot, but all that had happened was that with every passing week I liked him more instead of less. Thankfully, he continued to remain blissfully unaware of my pathetic little crush.
‘You’re going to need to hang those things right up in the corner,’ observed Mike, from the comfort of his armchair.
I looked up at the cornice that was still several feet above my head, even though I was almost at the top of the steps. I held on to the top rail and grimaced slightly at the slimy feel of the slippery wet wood under my fingers.
‘Careful,’ said Mike, levering himself out of the chair. ‘You don’t want to fall and break an ankle.’
‘Been there. Done that,’ I said, wondering if David, who appeared to have totally tuned out what was going on in the room behind him, was listening.
‘Let me hang on to you while you reach up,’ offered Mike, as I wobbled alarmingly, trying to find my balance before reaching up with the decorations.
‘Sit down,’ said David, moving with surprising speed across the room and cutting Mike off before he could reach me. ‘I’m taller than you, and stronger. I’ve got it.’
‘I told you before, arm-wrestling is not a test of strength,’ retorted Mike, not bothering to disguise the irritation in his tone. But it had to be said that Mike was a good four inches shorter than David. He could hardly argue with that.
David placed two firm hands on either side of my waist, instantly centring me. ‘Okay?’ he questioned, and I gave a sharp nod in reply, suddenly not sure I could trust my voice. I stretched up towards the ceiling, and David’s hands which had been spanning my hip bones through my t-shirt were suddenly on my bare skin as the fabric rode upwards. I think Mike was still muttering something about an arm-wrestling re-match, but I could scarcely hear him above the dull thud of my heart. David’s fingers were firm against my body, gripping tightly enough to ensure I didn’t slip and fall and break my neck. He wasn’t to know that the skin beneath his hands was burning like fire under his touch. I gulped audibly as he repositioned his hold to get a better grip on me.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve got you,’ said David, totally misinterpreting the source of my panic. The warmth of his breath gently fanned a small patch of exposed skin at the base of my spine, which was on a level with his mouth. I leant higher, anxious for this to be over with, yet simultaneously wishing it could go on for ever. I was vaguely aware of Mike getting up to put the kettle on, and although he was still in the room, suddenly it felt as though David and I were completely alone. His hands had moved to my ribcage, so I knew he must have been able to feel the change in my breathing from the rapid hitching movements of my diaphragm. I was frantically jabbing drawing pins into the plaster, securing the last wisps of polyester in place, when I detected an almost imperceptible change in his hold. The hands supporting me had loosened their grip, and the pads of his fingertips were pressing gently on my sun-bronzed torso, as though forensically marking the fact that he’d been there. I gasped and dared to look down, to find David’s eyes were trained on my face, and there was a look in them that was impossible to read.
‘Hey, that looks great,’ Mike observed, returning to his seat with a cup of coffee. ‘Really mysterious.’
‘Isn’t it?’ said David, his hands leaving my body to grip mine in support as I clambered back down the steps a great deal faster than was probably wise.
Hours later, when I was slipping into my fancy-dress outfit for the party, I still hadn’t been able to shake off what had happened when I was on the ladder. Or even work out if it had happened at all. Nothing like it had occurred before over the last two months, and given how committed David and Ally were, it seemed far more likely that the whole thing might just have been the product of my over-active imagination.
I stepped in front of the full-length mirror to examine my outfit. I’d gone for a Bram Stoker inspired look, choosing a sheer floaty white gown for a funeral shroud, and hoping it was fairly obvious that I was supposed to be a newly created vampire. I carefully pinned my long blonde hair into a loose knot on the top of my head, exposing the two small red puncture marks I had painted on my neck. My face was dusted with pale powder, a few shades lighter than my usual cosmetics, and across my lids I’d blended several different shades of dark grey and inky black. I’d kept my lips unpainted, making them look truly bloodless. I was pleased with the overall effect; I looked decidedly deceased. Except, that is, for the pulse pounding visibly at my throat, and the rise and fall of my breasts, which swelled against the flimsy fabric that only just succeeded in covering them.
There was a knock on the door and my name was called. The pulse rate increased and my exposed cleavage surged up like the cresting wave on a tide I walked over to the door.
‘Wow, you look incredible,�
�� said David. His eyes were pleasingly directed solely on my face and neck; I felt sure Mike’s would have focused somewhat lower.
David was wearing an extremely eye-catching and instantly recognisable black and white striped suit.
‘Oh, are you not going in costume?’ I asked innocently.
‘No. I’m – ha, ha. Very funny. I need some help.’
‘What do you want me to do? Say your name three times?’
‘You’re killing me,’ he said with a twisted smile. ‘Can you give me a hand with my make-up? And believe me, that is not something I ever thought I’d hear myself say.’ He held out a small bag, which had probably come with his fancy-dress costume. I took it from him and looked inside: white base, black for the eyes and some green to look like moss, nothing too challenging there.
‘Yes, I can . . .’ I began, a little hesitantly. ‘But don’t you want to ask Ally instead?’
‘I would have done. But she texted earlier to say she’s got held up and won’t be here until later, and I haven’t got a clue how to do it. Without make-up, I’m just an idiot in a dodgy striped suit.’
I smiled and held my bedroom door open a little wider. ‘Come on in then.’
What he asked of me was every bit as much of a challenge as I’d feared it would be. It was all well and good telling myself to keep my distance, remember the boundaries, just keep things on a friendly footing, but having him sitting on the edge of my bed, his legs apart to allow me closer access to his face, was just this side of torture. I pushed the hair back from his forehead before I began, and it felt just the same as I remembered, thick and springy beneath my hand. I wondered if he had any memory at all of me sinking my fingers into it while we kissed in the snow. Somehow I didn’t think so.
Very carefully I smoothed the white base across his skin, knowing my fingers were trembling as they worked, and hoping that he couldn’t feel it. His eyes were on my face the entire time, and it was actually a relief when he had to close them as I painted on the panda-like black circles. David was too astute, too observant, and I knew how very easily he could slip beneath my flimsy guard.
I stepped a little closer, my knees bumping against the edge of the mattress, as I began to apply the speckles of green shading to the edge of his mouth. There was so little distance between us, I could feel his every exhalation gently fanning the exposed valley between my breasts. I felt the moment his respiration changed, and could pinpoint exactly when each breath began to come just a little bit quicker than the one before. I knew then that he wasn’t immune to my proximity. My heart was tripping and jumping erratically as I continued to dab patches of colour against his lips.
‘Charlotte—’ he began.
‘Don’t speak,’ I instructed.
He was silent for no more than a second or two. ‘Charlotte, I need to—’ Once again I cut him off, knowing that I must.
‘Seriously, David. Don’t speak. Not now. Not ever.’
His brilliant blue eyes burned into mine. Why? they asked.
You know why, my own replied.
But—
I shook my head sadly. Please don’t. We mustn’t talk about this ever again.
He nodded, and there was a lingering sadness in his look. The conversation was closed, and neither of us had uttered a single word.
Ten minutes later I stepped back to allow him to study his reflection in the mirror. He gave a satisfied nod. I too was pretty pleased with my handiwork, and even more so with my self-control. I didn’t know how far things might have spiralled away from us if we’d let them, but I felt proud that we’d both realised we could never allow that to happen. We walked together to my bedroom door, David saying something about retrieving his wig, while I was heading downstairs to check the guys had got the music sorted. We opened the door and then froze side-by-side within its frame, as we came face-to-face with Ally at the top of the stairs. She was carrying her coat, an excessive amount of carrier bags, and her trumpet case, which seemed to travel wherever she did. Several of the bags slipped from her fingers, making a series of tiny percussion sounds as they landed on the carpet. Her shock and surprise at seeing us emerge together from my room was apparent, although somewhat overshadowed by her bizarre costume. On her head she wore a black plastic witch’s hat, the type they sell in supermarkets, her pretty face half-obscured by the long straggly strands of green nylon hair attached to the brim. Her eyes were largely hidden from view beneath a crazy set of plastic glasses, attached to a large hooked nose, complete with a disgusting fake wart.
I couldn’t help myself. She looked so funny, that I just couldn’t stop the highly inappropriate snort of laughter from getting away from me. It was, quite possibly, the very worst thing I could have done, given the circumstances. Ally reached up and ripped the glasses from her face, throwing them angrily down to the ground where they landed among the fallen bags. She said nothing, not one word, just stared at us both for what seemed like an eternity, making up her own story of what she thought she was seeing.
‘Ally no—’ began David, stepping away from me and towards her. Always towards her, I thought. He reached out a hand, but she batted it away, her eyes still darting between us both.
‘Charlotte was just helping with my costume,’ he explained.
‘Really?’ she countered, her voice cyanide-bitter as she bent to retrieve her bags, the long green wig not quite managing to hide the hurt expression on her face.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ David countered, trying to pluck the bags from her unyielding fingers. ‘I needed someone to do the face paint. And you said you were going to be late.’
Ooh no, I thought, inwardly wincing at his mistake. Don’t make it sound like this was her fault.
‘Yeah well. I made an excuse and got out of the last hour of rehearsal. I thought I’d surprise you.’ She turned and flashed a quick glance in my direction. ‘I guess I was the one who got the surprise, though.’
It was a good exit line, I had to give her that. She turned sharply, and wrenched open the door to David’s room and disappeared into its darkened interior. David fixed me with one last helpless look before he followed, shutting the door firmly behind him. His words were an indistinguishable low rumble through the door, but Ally’s stinging reply travelled clearly into the hall. ‘This is nothing like that time with Max, and you know it.’
The Hallowe’en party had been a complete disaster. Even without that awkward and embarrassing misunderstanding with David and Ally in the hallway the night was a total write-off. Not that I could blame the party for the killer hangover I’d had the next day. That was all my own doing.
I hadn’t lingered long on the staircase after David and Ally had disappeared into his room. Even so, the sound of their raised voices was easily heard through the thin walls. I hurried into the lounge, where Pete was busy filling a bucket full of water with several bags of shiny red apples. He looked up at my arrival, and grinned widely, dislodging his plastic fangs. Muffled shouts from above came through the ceiling and Pete and I both looked upwards, as though the script for their argument was written on the plaster.
‘Again?’ Pete questioned, before turning his attention back to the apple-bobbing preparations. ‘I wonder what it’s about this time.’
I shrugged. I had no intention of telling him – or anyone else for that matter – that on this occasion I knew exactly what our housemate and his girlfriend were in disagreement about. Me.
‘There, that ought to do it,’ Pete declared, positioning the bucket on a thickly folded towel.
I bent down and examined the metal pail. ‘Isn’t that the one Mike threw up in last week?’
Pete looked at me a little sheepishly. ‘I recommend giving the apple bobbing a miss,’ he advised.
The house was packed, and I recognised almost no one in the heaving throng. David and Ally had eventually come downstairs, and from a safe distance across a crowded room, it appeared that they’d settled their differences, or called a truce. Either way, I t
hought it wise to keep my distance from both of them, and allow the red-hot dust to settle a little more.
The kitchen was a sea of bottles, and the floor a horrible sticky mess of spilled beer and other substances, which probably didn’t bear closer inspection.
‘Vodka eyeball?’ asked Mike, carrying a tray of shot glasses where small gruesome sweets wobbled and bounced inside jelly shots. I grabbed one, and allowed it to slither into my mouth. I could feel Mike’s eyes on me appreciatively as I ran my tongue lightly over my lips. You had to admire his persistence. And while I had every intention of drinking far more than I probably should that evening, there wasn’t enough jelly or vodka in the world that could make me that stupid. Nevertheless, at his urging, I took another couple of small glasses ‘for the road’.
The music was loud and pounding, and with the front and back doors thrown open for ventilation, I could only hope that one of the guys had remembered to warn the neighbours we were having a party. Or better still, invite them. I peered through the hazy residue from the dry ice machine, that Pete had insisted we hire for the party, but could see neither of our elderly neighbours among the crush of people. I giggled to myself at the thought.
‘What’s so funny, beautiful?’ I looked up at the tall stranger with long straggly blond hair, who was standing with a group of his friends near the doorway. I think I knew straight away that they’d probably crashed the party. For a start, they all looked a little too old to be students, and from their overheard comments, I suspected that educationally they may have peaked at primary school.
I gave an inward shudder, hearing echoes of my mother in my patronising comment. Perhaps what happened next was because I was over-compensating for that wayward thought, or perhaps I was always destined to do something foolish that night. I just don’t know. Because when the blond guy reached for my hand and dragged me towards the centre of the floor, saying, ‘Come on, dance with me,’ I didn’t do what any sane person in the world would have done, and tell him ‘no’.
