Digging Deeper

by Barbara Elsborg

  “Oh, it’s going to be all right,” she said and smiled.

  Beck’s gaze was fixed on Flick’s mouth. His lips ached for hers. He could just lean over and it would be like a jigsaw. Perfect match.

  “Do you think stroking would be okay?” Flick asked.

  Beck lost his train of thought. “I’d like that.”

  “Oh, she is sweet,” Flick whispered.

  Fluffy pattered over her hand, twitched her whiskers and sank her teeth into Flick’s thumb.

  “Fuck!”

  Blood ran down into her palm. Beck grabbed the hamster by the skin at the back of its neck and returned it to the cage, securing it inside before turning to Flick.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “The hamster bit me, not you.”

  “I don’t normally draw blood,” he said.

  She laughed.

  “I shouldn’t have pushed you into holding her.”

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  “It’s not your fault. It’s a complete psycho.” Flick sighed. She struggled to her feet and grabbed a tissue from the box next to the bed. “I feed it, clean it out, put it in its bloody ball and let it wander round the room every other night and the thing hates me. I have really tried but I cannot bond with it.”

  “You’d better wash your hand, use some antiseptic. Is there anything in your bathroom?”

  “It’s not my room. You think I sleep in here with that thing in the corner? I’m not that crazy. It’s my sister’s room. There’s some stuff in the other bathroom. It’s okay, I can see to it.”

  “Let me. I feel responsible.”

  Beck took hold of her hand and jerked as an explosion of desire ripped through him. His eyes met hers and he knew she’d felt it too. His heart pounded like rain on a glass roof—noisy, furious and very insistent. She was the one who looked away. Flick led him to the bathroom, showed him the medical supplies, and he washed the bite, sprayed it and stuck a dinosaur plaster over the top.

  “What are you thinking?” Beck asked.

  “That it was worth getting bitten by the bloody thing because you’re holding my hand, but I still wish it was dead.”

  He ran his thumb around her palm.

  “We have matching wounds now.” Beck smiled.

  “That’s true.” Flick flashed her eyes at him.

  He raised his other hand and stroked the outer curve of her breast. Her nipples immediately turned diamond sharp under the material and his cock swelled.

  “You’re not wearing anything under this are you?” he whispered. Beck couldn’t stop touching her, overwhelmed by an urge to unpeel her from the dress and prove he was right.

  “I think we better go downstairs,” Flick said.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  He twisted his fingers in the ribbons down the side of her dress.

  “No, but Kirsten will kill me if I drag you up to my room. Anyway, I want to dance with you. You’re the only one here who can move without looking as though you’re in pain.”

  He smiled. “That’s exactly what I thought about you.”

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  Chapter Eighteen

  “Are you all right?” Two Kirstens looked at Josh in concern.

  “Fine.”

  He wasn’t fine at all. His plan had gone wrong. He’d intended to have a few drinks to bolster his courage so he could tell Kirsten how he really felt about her but because he wasn’t brave enough, he’d had another drink, then another and now he felt rather unwell. He tried to turn two Kirstens into one.

  “Because you don’t look fine, Josh, and after lecturing us about being careful and not letting ourselves down, you seem to have ignored your own advice.”

  “I’m absholutely fine.” He wondered if he’d articulated that sentence properly. Maybe he should say it again. He needed to get beyond the feeling sick part and on to the “I’m-very-funny-and-everyone-loves-me” stage and all would be well. Maybe he’d got that the wrong way round. Maybe he’d already been funny and loveable.

  Perhaps he ought to lie down.

  “I’ll just…wash my face,” he hiccupped.

  He wanted to tell Kirsten why he’d got so drunk but he didn’t trust himself to speak. He was spinning on a whirling fairground ride and couldn’t get off. Better to lie down. The toilet floor looked lovely.

  As Beck and Flick walked through the hall, Kirsten grabbed Flick’s arm.

  “You have to help me.”

  “Now?” Flick tried to send a semaphore message with her eyes for Kirsten to look down at the two hands entwined in front of her and take in the fact that Beck had been with her for more than fifteen minutes and was still alive.

  “Right now. It’s an emergency. Please.”

  “I’ll go and find a drink.” Beck released her hand.

  Flick groaned and groaned again when she saw Josh curled up on the floor of the bathroom. “Josh, wake up.”

  “Josh, you have to go upstairs and lie down. You can’t stay in here, people need to use the toilet,” Kirsten said.

  Flick sighed. “We’re going to have to get him to his feet. You take one arm and I’ll take the other.”

  They dragged him upright.

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  “So sorry,” Josh slurred.

  “You will be tomorrow,” Flick said. “I can’t believe you’ve done this after all you said to us. What were you thinking?”

  The three staggered out of the toilet and over to the stairs. Josh had an arm across each of their shoulders. As they started to climb Flick became aware his face had turned an unusual shade of green.

  “Do you think Josh looks that color because of the revolving disco lights?” she asked.

  “Well, you’re not green,” Kirsten said.

  “Quick, get a bowl or something.”

  “Why? Oh, right.”

  The moment Kirsten let him go, Josh slumped. Flick struggled to keep him upright but they fell onto the stairs. She let out a yelp of pain as Josh landed on top of her.

  “Sorry, Flickety, didn’t mean to hurt you, you know I love you.” He nuzzled against her chest.

  “And I love you too, Josh, you drunken idiot. Come on, up to bed.”

  She turned to look for Kirsten and saw Beck standing with two glasses in his hand. He looked at her and Josh whose drooling mouth was fixed to her breast and then disappeared. Flick sighed with frustration. Why couldn’t he offer to give her a hand?

  Why couldn’t he see the truth?

  By the time Kirsten came rushing back with a bowl, Flick had hauled Josh halfway up the stairs. Between the pair of them they managed to get him into his bedroom. After they’d maneuvered him on to the bed, they sat panting by his side. Kirsten turned to Flick. “Josh told me he loved me.”

  Flick smiled.

  “I also heard him tell Chloe, Anna and Bethan he loves them too and he’s only just met them.”

  Bugger, Flick thought.

  “Plus Bethan is that weird one with the tattoo of a coffin on her neck.”

  Double bugger, Flick amended.

  “Only the thing is,” Kirsten hesitated and looked at Josh who lay with his arms above his head, snoring quietly, “I feel differently about Josh now. He was just a friend, a housemate, but things have changed.”

  “Good change or bad change?”

  “Not sure.”

  “So if Pierce turned up tonight what would you do?” Flick asked.

  “He’s not down there, is he?” Kirsten’s eyes opened wide. 122

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  “Not as far as I know, but you didn’t answer my question. You have to decide what you want. Don’t mess Josh around. He wants to tell you how he feels. My guess is that’s why he’s lying here in a drunken coma. He’s frightened, Kirsten. He’s wanted this for so long. He’s watched you and Pierce and it’s eaten him up. If you’re thinking differently about Josh because you’re starting to have fe
elings for him then maybe you and Pierce aren’t quite what you thought you were. Not coming to your party was wrong but was that really why you were so angry? Maybe part of you is relieved. Maybe this has given you the chance to breathe unaided. Only don’t string Josh along and then fall back into slime boy’s arms tomorrow. Make your mind up and go for it. Stop dithering.”

  Flick looked at Kirsten’s face and realized she’d gone too far.

  “Brilliant advice, Flick. So why are you up here instead of downstairs dancing with Beck?”

  Flick resisted the temptation to remind Kirsten she’d come begging for help with Josh just when she’d managed to hold Beck’s hand for a few minutes without some disaster unfolding.

  “Fine, I’m going to go downstairs now and make him dance with me,” Flick said. Or drag him upstairs and get him naked and horizontal.

  When she walked into the living room her heart dropped into the bottom of her stomach where it was attacked and torn to pieces by Rottweilers. Only one person was dancing—a tall, tanned blonde wearing minute triangles of white material masquerading as a string bikini. She had a mobile phone strapped to her thigh with a red shoe lace. She was the only one dancing because everyone else stood watching and every man had his tongue out. Flick wished the sight of her sister filled her with joy but it didn’t. Stef was a millstone around her neck and that might not be so bad if Stef cared, but she didn’t. The sad thing was that part of Flick was jealous that Stef had things so easy and yet it was Flick’s own fault. She was as annoyed with herself as she was with her sister. As Flick glared, Stef turned and smiled with her megawatt teeth that had cost Flick a fortune. The brightness level in the room went up a notch. Stef ran over and threw her arms round her sister.

  “Surprise! I decided to come to the party. How’s Fluffy?”

  “Your hamster has just taken a chunk out of my finger.” Flick was surprised she could speak, considering the size of the lump stuck in her throat. “How did you get here?” Please don’t say taxi. Knowing Stef, it wouldn’t have been a taxi from Menston or Ilkley but all the way from Leeds, costing at least forty quid.

  “Drew lent me his car.”

  “I hope you’re insured.” Flick cursed herself as she said it.

  “Of course, don’t nag.”

  “I wasn’t nagging. And where did you get that mobile phone? I bought you a bogstandard pay-as-you-go. I can’t afford a contract.”

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  “Chill out, Flick, for Christ’s sake. Drew lent it me. I lost the other one.”

  “I’m not buying you another.”

  “Whatever.” Stef turned her back on Flick and strolled over to Beck.

  “Hello, sailor.” Stef smiled. “Are you married, engaged or otherwise attached?”

  Flick wanted a hole to appear in the floor, hungry for human flesh called Stephanie Knyfe.

  “No, well…er…I…” Beck stuttered.

  “Good.” Stef linked her arm in his. “I’ve been driving for hours. Help me find a drink.”

  Flick’s heart exploded. That was the trouble with Stef, you couldn’t say no to her. Their father’s fault. When Stef was little, she whined, begged and pleaded until she got what she wanted. Within a couple of days she usually lost interest in her new toy because it was the procuring that held the excitement not the actual possession. Same with men. Stef liked to make men fall in love with her, although to be fair she didn’t have to make much effort. When you had long golden hair, a dazzling smile, cute button nose and legs up to your armpits, it required no more than a five-second sultry stare across a room before the victim swallowed the bait. Once Stef had someone on the hook she teased him for a while before she dumped him, jetsam in her wake, temporarily ruining a life. Flick had seen it happen many times. Boys had cried on her shoulder and told her they just didn’t understand what they’d done wrong. Flick could never make them see they hadn’t done anything.

  Now, just as she thought there was a chance for her and Beck, in walks Stef. Flick was tempted to believe in fate. When they’d handed out the bad luck, someone had thought, hey, I’ll give it all to Felicity Knyfe. I’ll give her a sister called Stef. Flick knew in the grand scheme of things many people were far worse off than she and she did feel terrible about starvation in Africa and all those people who died in natural disasters and everyone with horrible diseases. Reason enough to stop her sliding from one depression to another worrying over her own problems, but knowing others had worse luck didn’t make her feel any better.

  She watched Stef run her hand down Beck’s back and gritted her teeth. The crazy thing was had it been anyone but Stef, Flick would have walked over and run her hand down his back, but she sensed her body retreating, felt her heart closing all entry points. She was furious with herself but she couldn’t help it.

  Flick walked past Stef and Beck, through the kitchen and out the back door. The fairy lights had turned the garden into a twinkling grotto. In the dark, it looked magical, as though the stars had fallen to earth and all landed in one garden in Timble. Flick sat on a wooden bench her dad had made. Stef always managed to make her miserable. She’d steal a few moments feeling sorry for herself before she went back inside. Stef was selfish and thoughtless. Flick didn’t like her. Horrible admitting she didn’t like her own sister and she felt guilty about it, but not guilty enough to change her 124

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  mind. Flick wished they could change places for a while, so Stef knew what it was like to have responsibility heaped so high on your shoulders you felt like your feet were planted in concrete.

  After their parents died, Flick had tried to look after Stef, to protect and care for her, to be the mother and father she’d lost. Flick did it because she was the older sister, but did it more because it was her fault their parents had died. That day, Flick had locked herself out of the house. She called her dad and they’d rushed home and never got there. No one knew. She hadn’t even told the police. Even thinking about it made Flick feel so ill she was barely able to breathe. And it was partly her fault that her sister had turned into a self-absorbed airhead. In pandering to her every whim, Flick had done Stef no favors, only bought herself expensive and temporary peace. All Flick wanted was for Stef to love her, but all Stef did was take her for granted. Fortunately, Stef kept her visits to Yorkshire brief. Long enough to wreck her bedroom and swap her dirty laundry for Flick’s clean clothes before she went to stay with some wealthy friend. Kirsten and Josh couldn’t understand why Flick let Stef treat her as she did, nor why Stef got the large bedroom that had belonged to their parents, since Flick was in the house far more than her sister. But Flick didn’t want to sleep in there. It made her unhappy. She’d tried. She’d spent a lot of time and effort changing the room but it made no difference. It remained her mum and dad’s room. Since she’d given the other two bedrooms to Josh and Kirsten, Flick had retreated to the attic. Her bedroom was small, too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, but safe. Flick knew Stef would only play with Beck. He wasn’t her type. Not rich for a start. Maybe she ought to go and rescue him. He’d wanted to kiss her earlier, she knew he had, so all she had to do was find him and take up where they’d left off. She’d explain about Josh’s mouth on her breast and everything would be fine. Hope flickered inside her, a need to be held and told her life would be what she wished for. When she walked into the house and saw Stef in Beck’s arms, Stef’s lips on Beck’s lips, she carried on walking—upstairs to her room. Before she could change her mind, she picked up the phone.

  “Hey, Gerry, it’s me.”

  “Hey Flick, what’s up?”

  “I wondered if you needed me tonight after all.”

  “I thought you had a party to go to?”

  “It’s turned out not to be much fun. I can’t drive but if you want to send a car I’ll come in.”

  “Two girls down tonight. I’ll order a cab from Otley, so ten minutes or so. See you later, babe.”

  * *
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  Beck thought Stef danced well, though not as well as Flick. Stef wanted to impress others rather than simply enjoy herself. She reminded him of Dina—young, attractive, spoiled and selfish—wanting something for the challenge of having it. When the beat changed to a slow number, she moved closer and put her arms round his neck. Beck sighed and removed them. She’d already tried to kiss him once. He didn’t want Flick to see them and get the wrong idea. He glanced round.

  “Are you looking for my sister?” Stef asked. “I think she’s in the kitchen. Come and get a drink.”

  Beck followed but there was no sign of Flick.

  “So what are you studying?” he asked.

  “Land Economy. I’ve just finished my second year. What do you do?”

  “Teach.”

  “Oh.”

  Beck smiled to himself. He knew that wouldn’t impress her. “Did Flick go to university?”

  “Yeah. Have you ever been to Aruba?”

  “No.”

  “It’s fantastic. My boyfriend’s family has a huge house there. They’ve just come over to play golf at St Andrews and invited me to join them. I’ve only come home for some clothes.”

  “Leaving Flick to look after your hamster?”

  “Have you met Fluffy? Isn’t she the sweetest, most adorable little thing?” Stef beamed.

  Beck found her broad smile annoying. “Your hamster bites.”

  “Flick doesn’t have my skills.” Stef winked. “I don’t get bitten.”

  “Why don’t you take Fluffy back with you?” Beck thought he ought to try to rescue Flick.

  “Too busy.” Stef shrugged. “I have so much to do in the evenings, I’m not around when Fluffy’s awake. Anyway there’s more room here and Flick has plenty of time.”

  Beck didn’t like Stef. While she’d been talking to him, her gaze darted around so he never felt she listened to what he said.

  “I think you’re the best-looking guy here.”

  Beck gave a short laugh. She hadn’t said it in any sort of complimentary way. Stef stared at him for a moment. “You remind me of Marcus.”

  “Who’s Marcus?”

  “Flick’s boyfriend. A television producer. He’s not around at the moment. He went to Australia to make a film.”