Love's Cold Burn

by Harry, Jessica

As they edged away, Karen looked back over her shoulder. ‘Nice meeting you Tom, Brian, Vicky. See you around,’ she said, all the time looking at Tom, something, which Brian spotted again, but said nothing. Andrew was too busy mentally kicking himself to notice who Pink Socks had been looking at.

  Vicky had also noticed that Tom had turned the head of another girl and her self confidence was tested. Why was this young man, who seemed too good to be true, with her, when he had so much choice? If she fell in love with him, it would be certain to end in tears. There would always be another girl waiting to grab him when her guard was down. Have a bit of belief in yourself she repeated in her head as they turned down the bread and cake aisle.

  Coming in the other direction was Sanita Harrison. This could be awkward thought Tom. ‘Hi Sanita. How are you?’ Tom said.

  ‘Good thanks Tom. Are you going to introduce me?’ Sanita replied curtly, all the time looking at Vicky.

  ‘Yes of course.’ He reached his arm towards Vicky. ‘This is my girlfriend Vicky Owen.’ Then he reached his arm towards Sanita, while facing Vicky. ‘This is Sanita Harrison. We are both in the Greenpeace Society.’

  Vicky had joined despite fearing what her father may think, but had not been to any meetings. This seemed a good opportunity to meet another member. Sanita looked quite pleasant and Vicky spoke with her about Greenpeace.

  Tom was alarmed to see them getting on quite well and was even more alarmed when they walked ahead together still deep in conversation. He was worried that Sanita would sabotage his chances with Vicky, but thankfully they were still all smiles as Sanita turned towards the check-outs, while the boys headed up the beer and wine aisle.

  As they walked back along Thief Lane, the winter sun warming their faces, the boys carried bags in both hands while Vicky carried a bottle of wine in each hand. Andrew struggled and fell behind with Vicky for company while Tom and Brian strode ahead. Andrew got on well with Vicky, just as he had done with Lisa Wentworth-Simpson. He was comfortable talking to girls when they were part of a couple. He knew that they knew that he had no hidden sexual agenda. That took the pressure off and he could be natural.

  Brian and Tom had opened up a gap of around 20 yards by the time they reached the football ground. ‘Did I tell you I got a letter from the hospital this morning?’ Brian asked Tom.

  ‘No. What did it say?’

  ‘It was an appointment to see a specialist about my lumpy ball-bag. I only had to wait four months. That must be an NHS record.’ Sarcasm from Brian.

  ‘They won’t operate though will they?’

  ‘No. I doubt it. They’ll probably have a look and then leave it for another four months. Still, I don’t mind. It’s uncomfortable, but not painful. But I’m sure the operation will be painful, so the longer the wait the better.’

  ‘I’m sure the operation won’t be painful, otherwise they would have told you there is nothing to worry about.’ Sarcasm from Tom.

  ‘On the subject of ball-bags,’ Brian changed the subject. ‘Have you boned Vicky yet?’ Brian’s language lacked subtlety. ‘That is, of course, if you intend sticking with her and not going back to Greenpeace Badge.’

  ‘Oh I’m sticking with her. And no, I’ve not. We’re taking it steady. Maybe you should try it. I saw you looking at that girl’s tits in the supermarket. Until you did that, she had been checking you out. I think you could have been in there.’

  ‘Maybe. But I don’t want to waste time taking it steady and, like you said, she had been checking me out. I’m not offended by that. If looking at her tits was a problem, she was not the girl for me.’

  ‘Fair point.’ Tom had to agree.

  Three hours later, Tom knocked on Vicky’s door ready for their dinner date. She pulled the door open. Tom hugged her and gave her a quick kiss on the lips before handing her a small gift wrapped in tin foil.

  ‘Ooh … thank-you Tom. What is it?’

  ‘Nothing much. I just thought you might like it.’ It was the first present Tom had bought for any girl. He hoped it would reassure her that she was special to him.

  Vicky had cleared her desk and grabbed an extra chair from the kitchen so they could eat in the peace of her bedroom. She had set two places and lit a scented candle, which she had bought from Third World Collective in town. She wore the same lilac dress she had worn on their first date at The Pepper Pot.

  Her eyes burned bright as she pulled away the tin foil from her gift to reveal a deep purple silk scarf. ‘You shouldn’t have.’

  ‘No. No. I wanted to. I thought it would match your lilac dress.’

  She draped it around her neck. ‘Thank-you Tom.’ She wrapped her arms around him and they kissed. She then rushed off to the kitchen and returned with two wine glasses and a bottle of chilled wine.

  ‘I hope you like moussaka,’ she said handing Tom a glass of wine.

  ‘I certainly do.’

  ‘Vegetarian of course.’

  She rushed off to the kitchen again. Tom shouted after her. ‘Need any help?’

  ‘No thanks,’ she shouted from down the corridor.

  She set the plates down on her desk and sat with Tom before taking a sip of her own wine.

  ‘Wow. This looks good,’ Tom said with enthusiasm.

  ‘Let’s hope it tastes as good.’

  By the time they started the second bottle of wine and moved onto a dessert of sherry trifle, Vicky had grown tired of light-hearted conversation and, after questioning her own self confidence in the supermarket, wanted a bit of reassurance. The gift had been a good start, but she wanted more.

  ‘Tom,’ she said in a way that introduced a more serious tone.

  ‘Yes Vicky,’ Tom said in a way that showed he knew she wanted to introduce a more serious tone.

  ‘Have you ever been in love?’ A tough question from Vicky.

  ‘Hmm … Let me think … I don’t think so. No. Although I’m not altogether sure I know what it means to be in love.’ They were gazing into each other’s eyes, their faces almost too close for comfortable focussing. Only the flickering candle-light separated them. In the background, Vicky was playing a tape of Fleetwood Mac. ‘What do you think love is?’ Tom asked.

  ‘That’s a difficult question.’ Vicky raised one eyebrow in thought. It hid behind her fringe. ‘I think it is when somebody becomes so special to you that you can take pleasure from seeing them laugh and smile.’ Tom had nodded approval of her answer, so she went on. ‘Do you think you will ever fall in love Tom?’ An even tougher question from Vicky.

  Tom rubbed his chin in thought feeling a small amount of pressure to give the right answer. ‘Tough one. Quite possibly, but I would never tell a girl I loved her just to win her over. I would only say it if I meant it.’

  Vicky made her question more direct. ‘Could you see yourself falling in love with me?’ The toughest question yet from Vicky.

  Tom definitely felt pressure now, both in what he said and how quick he said it. He liked Vicky very much and hoped they would stick together for quite a while, but he was wary of making any firm commitment and, even acknowledging that he could fall in love at a later stage, was making more of a commitment than he wanted to. He saw his whole life before him like a winding road with surprises around every corner. He liked surprises. They were the spice of life for Tom. Making too big a commitment was like driving down a straight road. You could see too far ahead and there was not enough excitement.

  He was not prepared to make any real commitment to Vicky and she sensed this in his delayed response. When he finally replied, it was cagey and guarded. ‘We have a special bond. It is growing and I am enjoying every minute of it.’

  It was not the reassuring answer she had hoped for, but she hid her disappointment well. She felt she had already fallen in love with Tom, but dared not say so. She didn’t want a relationship where the commitment was all one-way. She would not tell Tom she loved him until she had some indication from him that he at least believed it was possible that he could, at
some point, fall in love with her.

  Tom could see she was disappointed. He reached his hand to her face and caressed her cheek. She squeezed his hand. He placed his free hand around her waist and pulled her towards him. ‘You know I’m very fond of you. Let’s just see how things go.’

  Vicky forced a smile. She felt like crying, but she didn’t.

  Tom lifted her clear off the floor. She squealed a little, surprise more than protest. He placed her on the bed and lay down beside her. They talked and kissed for a couple of hours before falling asleep, still fully clothed on top of the bed.

  At around four in the morning, Tom woke up. He crept out of the room to the toilet and returned without waking Vicky. The thin curtains were not enough to block out all the light from the footpaths and an amber glow softly lit Vicky’s face. Tom watched her sleeping peacefully and felt a hint of guilt. He could have said what she had wanted to hear, but he didn’t want to lie, just to keep her happy in the short term. Honesty kept things uncomplicated.

  Vicky rolled towards Tom and opened her eyes. ‘Hey Tom. You okay?’

  ‘Yes thanks. Bit cold though. Shall we get in?’

  Vicky wanted to keep him waiting. No sex without commitment she told herself.

  Tom could see she wasn’t sure. ‘Don’t worry. We don’t have to do anything. We can just keep each other warm.’

  She stripped down to her underwear. Tom followed her lead and they cuddled up together in a warm embrace.

  Chapter 23

  Room number one

  The day after: A cold pan of beans sat on the cooker hotplate in the Dickens Court kitchen. It would stay cold until Brian Hill remembered it was on the broken ring. Six pieces of toast were burning under the grill as he stared at the naked girl on page three of his newspaper. It was lunchtime.

  Tom Hill was deep in thought staring out of the window at the cherry trees in the courtyard below. The smell of burning toast brought his focus back into the kitchen. ‘I think lunch is ready.’

  Brian jumped up and pulled the black toast out of the cooker. As he began scraping the black surface off the toast, he looked into the pan of beans and wondered why they weren’t bubbling. Dipping his finger into the cold pot, he remembered the ring was broken. He cursed and switched to the other ring. There were only two. ‘It’ll be a few minutes yet. I had the beans on the wrong ring.’

  Brian finished scraping the brittle toast before sitting back down by the coffee table. He watched Tom looking out of the window and guessed that Vicky Owen must be the reason for his vacant stare. ‘How did it go with Vicky last night?’

  ‘Ooh … not too bad,’ Tom said, almost sighing.

  ‘Did you?’ Brian asked with a naughty smile.

  ‘Did I what?’ Tom replied.

  ‘Did you?’ Brian repeated, this time with a knowing nod and a thrust of the hips.

  ‘We spent the night together for the first time, but no, we didn’t.’

  ‘Why not?’ Brian couldn’t understand why his brother was so patient.

  ‘Well, to be honest Brian, that’s what I’m trying to work out.’

  Brian nodded for Tom to continue.

  ‘From what she was saying, I think she may be in love with me and I don’t know how I feel about that.’

  ‘Did she say she was?’

  ‘No. But reading between the lines, I got the feeling that she was, but didn’t want to say.’

  ‘Why not?’ Now Brian couldn’t understand Vicky. His understanding of girls was extremely limited at the best of times, but this was beyond him.

  Tom thought he had read the signals right, but wasn’t sure. ‘I don’t think she wanted to say, because I wasn’t very kind about her.’

  ‘What did you say?’ Brian was intrigued now.

  ‘Nothing bad, but nothing good either. I think she wanted some kind of indication from me that I felt the same way as her before she was prepared to tell me she loves me. And.’ Tom paused for effect. ‘I don’t think she wants to have sex until I tell HER that I love her.’

  ‘So why don’t you just tell her.’

  ‘Because I don’t.’

  ‘So?’ This was the most confusing of all. Tom just had to say one little fib and he could shag Vicky. What could be more straight-forward.

  ‘I don’t love her. I may, eventually, but I’m not prepared to lie.’

  ‘Not even for a shag?’

  ‘Not even for a shag,’ Tom confirmed to Brian, and probably to himself as well.

  ‘So what are you going to do then?’ Brian thought Tom was wasting his time with Vicky if she was waiting for something that Tom couldn’t give her.

  ‘I don’t know. I like her a lot and, you never know, I may fall in love, but I’m only 18. I can’t see myself with the same girl for ever. There are so many others that I would be missing out on.’

  ‘That’s a good point. Might be time to cut and run.’

  ‘No. I don’t think so and besides, I could be completely wrong.’

  Just as the beans began to bubble, Andrew Leopard walked in the kitchen followed by Hugh Grundy, Colin Dean and Ian Mellor. Next through the door was Roger Evans, who silently made a cheese sandwich and left. Nobody spoke to him. He never replied so people had stopped noticing him at all. He was just part of the furniture like the table or fridge.

  Andrew had been waiting all morning to see Tom. He had an idea and needed his opinion. ‘I think I’ll send Pink Socks some roses on Valentine’s Day,’ he said, expecting enthusiasm from Tom.

  ‘That’s not for another week,’ Tom said sharply. He wanted Andrew to move faster. He wanted Vicky to move faster, but he didn’t want to push her, so he took his impatience out on Andrew. ‘But okay. It’s better than nothing. What message do you have in mind?’

  Strange question Andrew thought. ‘Nothing. It’s a Valentine’s card. It’s supposed to be anonymous … it is.’

  ‘Then you’re probably wasting time and money. You’re not going to win her over if she doesn’t even know the roses are from you. In fact, worse than that, Colin or Hugh will probably dive in and pretend they sent them.’

  ‘Aah … but what if I tell her before anybody else dives in?’

  ‘Sticking your name on the card is the only way to guarantee that and you’ve not exactly been quick so far in talking to her,’ Tom pointed out. ‘I need a wee before we eat.’ Tom disappeared.

  Colin threw his books on the floor in the corner, sat in one of the soft chairs and lit a cigarette. He then leant forward and, using the red-hot tip of his cigarette, burned a row of dots along the rim of the coffee table.

  Hugh couldn’t find any clean pots. ‘Where’s your small pan Wanker?’

  ‘I’ve hidden it,’ said Ian.

  ‘Why?’ asked Hugh, a little annoyed.

  ‘Because you always use it and never clean it.’ Ian was tired of washing his own pots after Hugh and Colin had borrowed them. ‘If you promise to wash it when you’ve finished, I’ll lend you it.’

  ‘Fine. I will,’ Hugh lied. He had no intention of washing it and was irritated that Ian had made such a fuss.

  Brian and Andrew had finished their lunch before Tom returned from the toilet.

  ‘You took your time,’ Brian said loudly.

  ‘That’s because I have just been in room number one,’ Tom proudly announced to the whole room.

  Everyone immediately turned round, eagerly waiting to hear more. Anything to do with the mysterious room number one commanded instant attention.

  ‘Go on then,’ Brian urged him. ‘What’s he like?’

  The boys gathered around the coffee table.

  ‘The door was slightly open so I knocked and there was no answer, so I pushed it open a little,’ Tom said.

  ‘And?’ Hugh said at the same time as Colin said, ‘go on.’

  ‘There was nobody there, but I took one step in so I could have a good look around.’

  There was disappointment because Tom had not seen the student, but they sti
ll wanted to know what Tom had seen.

  ‘He’s got some strange stuff. I think he might be a post grad research student, possibly something to do with music, because there was some sheet music on his desk. And he must have some money. There were shelves packed with books and pictures all over the walls, not posters with Blu Tac holding them up, but fine art abstract prints, or originals, in fancy gold frames. There was an old tapestry on one wall, probably an antique, with some kind of classical scene on it, nymphs and shepherds dancing by a lake. There were loads of shiny silk cushions on the bed and there was a sculpture of Napoleon. I think it was Napoleon … just his head and shoulders.’

  ‘Sounds like a weirdo,’ said Colin.

  ‘Sounds gay,’ said Hugh.

  ‘Sounds rich,’ said Brian.

  ‘Oh … and one other thing,’ added Tom. ‘The sculpture of Napoleon had a big black tear under one eye. Just one eye and it looked as if it had been cut out of black cardboard and glued onto the white marble.’

  Chapter 24

  Focus on the thug

  Six days later, February 14, 1984: Hugh Grundy plodded steadily along Thief Lane, past the football ground, on his way back to Southside University after a very unpleasant trip into town. It was a dark day for Hugh in many ways. He was bitterly cold wearing only his usual black jeans and leather jacket. Fashion came before common sense. Besides, he was supposed to be a hard man and that meant you didn’t feel the cold. A biting wind battered his wide face with ice-cold drizzle. His shaved head kept no heat in and he was ‘too cool’ to wear a hat.

  It wasn’t just the weather that had made it a dark day for Hugh. Nobody had sent him a Valentine card, none of his ‘easy-money’ schemes had paid off, but worst of all, he had just spent the last of his grant on something he didn’t really want, but knew he needed.

  After two years of tripping over his feet, Hugh had begrudgingly accepted that he needed glasses, which he now wore. The arm, which rested over his left ear, cut right through the neck of his tattooed lizard and the large deep red frames, which matched his Dr Marten boots, perched on his nose making him, in his opinion, look like a geek, an extremely aggressive geek, but, nevertheless, a geek.