by Jenny Colgan
Josh stared after her, blinking.
‘What?’
But she was gone.
The second half passed in a blur. Tristram and his band crashed through ‘THEY DESERVE TO DIE’ (a long list, including fox hunters, religious fundamentalists and white people), ‘IF DRUGS KILL, CAN WE FEED THEM TO THE PRIME MINISTER?’ and ‘I’M PROBABLY BISEXUAL, BUT I’LL KNOW FOR CERTAIN WHEN I GET ROUND TO GETTING OFF WITH A BLOKE’.
I barely noticed, however. I was standing close to Finn at the back, enjoying the closeness of us; the hairs on our arms were almost, but not quite, touching. Every so often, a lairy teenager would come crashing into us and send us hurtling into each other. I enjoyed this bit too; we would self-consciously apologize to each other, and hold each other’s gaze a little longer than necessary. My insides were squirming, I could hear my own heart even above the condemned wailing of the band, and I was finding it quite difficult to understand why, after all, this geeky, annoyingly direct chap was having this effect on me. It couldn’t just be because he was a good dancer, could it? I snuck a peek out of the corner of my eye. He was watching the band with an amused expression, but there was an aura of nervousness about him too. I assumed I was the cause of it, but I couldn’t fathom which way – was he desperate to get rid of me, and had a prank instituted by Chali gone too far? Or did he feel the same way I did – nervous but, frankly, desperate for a kiss? And not just any old kiss – a proper, movie-star, blistering yet infinitely tender kiss, the type you reach your face up for so readily, and receive so rarely. I realized suddenly that I was fantasizing about him and had my tongue hanging out like a dog, and shook my head briskly to clear it.
The band rolled off eventually, Tristram head-banging in order to spread his circle of sweat as far as possible, and taking rather more encores than the audience had strictly demanded, including ‘MY LOVE IS A FOETUS’. Finally, however, they were gone, and the audience started to drift away. Josh stayed rooted to the spot.
‘Well?’ I asked him.
‘She said stay here,’ he said rigidly.
‘I’m not sure she meant the exact square centimetre.’
‘You can’t be too careful.’ He thought for a second. ‘I’m desperate for the loo, though.’
‘Do you want Finn to stand there and pretend to be you for a minute while you get to have a wee?’
‘No, thanks, I’ll be fine.’
‘Yes, until you go to kiss her and accidentally wet yourself.’
‘That might happen anyway,’ said Josh, suddenly spotting her sashaying across the floor towards us with a purposeful expression on her face.
‘Shall we go?’ said Finn to me, subtly.
‘Oh! Yes, of course. Bye, darling. We’ll want a full report.’
‘Probably, nothing,’ said Josh, but he held up his fingers, which were tightly crossed.
I crossed mine back at him, and waved at Chali across the room, who was berating her crusty army for something.
‘See you tomorrow!’
She looked over, then laughed.
‘I will be extremely surprised,’ she yelled, ‘if either of us makes it into work tomorrow!’
I twinged with embarrassment.
‘Yes, well, whatever.’
Finn opened the door for me, and the huge doorman recognized me and laughed.
‘You know, I might have guessed you two would end up together when you came in.’
‘Matchmaker, are you?’ I was still cross with him for taking the twenty pounds.
‘Neh – you’re the only two wearing shoes.’
I glanced at my feet. Finn was wearing desert boots, and I had a pair of Startrite sandals for grown-ups on. Everyone else was in neon trainers.
‘You’re very good at your job,’ I said.
He tipped his head to me.
‘Thank you, ma’am. Have a good night now.’
Outside, it had started to rain. Finn shrugged back into his duffel coat, and immediately appeared more prosaic. Then he caught my eye and smiled warmly. My stomach started doing the samba again.
‘Now – dinner!’ he announced. I stared at him.
‘You know it’s quarter past midnight?’
‘No – is it really? I don’t wear a watch,’ he said disappointedly. ‘Time is just so completely irrelevant.’
‘Unless you’re trying to eat in London after midnight.’
‘God, if only Einstein had thought of that. It could have changed everything.’
‘It could have changed us getting food poisoning,’ I said, looking around. There were places open around the railway station, but they were frankly terrifying – unidentifiable kebab shops next to watery hamburger joints, with little tin ashtrays full of an evening’s worth of anxious cigarette butts from prostitutes, drug dealers and runaways – the standard clientele of the King’s Cross cuisine trade. I had been hungry, but one look at these places would put a scabby dog off its dinner. Also, I could have been starving to death, but if there was a possibility of kissing on the agenda later on, then I wasn’t going near the oral hygiene minefield that was a kebab. These things need careful planning.
This may also have occurred to Finn, because we wandered about for a while, unwilling to end the evening, uncertain of what our options were. Finally, thankfully, we stumbled across a late-night coffee shop, and Finn acquired two great mugs of soapy coffee and thin slabs of chocolate biscuit cake and sat down next to me on the tiny moulded plastic chairs.
‘My ears are still ringing,’ I complained.
‘Well, it was worth it just to see the start of a new phenomenon, wasn’t it?’
‘A phenomenal pile of poo.’
‘Oh – I didn’t know you were reviewing it for Time Out.’
I sipped my coffee, looking closely at his hands. They were long and wiry, with long pale fingers. One was holding on to the cup so tightly the handle was in some danger, and the other was drumming nervously on the table top.
‘So, what do you want to do when you grow up, then?’ I asked him.
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘After I win the Nobel Prize, I thought I’d become the new Dr Who, and then go into space.’
‘Don’t you get to go into space anyway, if you’re Dr Who?’
‘Whoops, yes, I keep forgetting it’s a documentary.’
‘You’d be a good Dr Who,’ I said. He would; he was the right mix of bright, confused and severely dishevelled.
‘And you can still win the Nobel Prize, can’t you?’
He sighed, and rattled his coffee cup. ‘Not at thirty, I don’t think, unless I come up with something quick. Physicists tend to peak when they’re about twenty.’
‘Wow, just like …’
‘Yes, yes, yes, I have heard it. And I was too busy doing physics to pull … and, of course, I was doing physics, which rather limits your options in the first place.’
‘Never mind,’ I said.
‘I’m sorry: do I sound like the most moany person in the world? I feel like I’ve just been moaning all night.’
‘Well, it’s closer to singing than Tristram was.’
‘What about you? What are you going to be?’
‘Hmm. Film star, I think.’
‘Good choice.’
‘Thank you. Although I’m not looking forward to all the porn I’ll have to make before I get there.’
‘Seriously. Are you a dedicated florist?’
I fiddled with a sugar packet.
‘I don’t know. It’s OK. After my parents split up, neither of their flats had a garden, and I really missed it. This seems about the closest I can get at the moment. And I’d die if I had to work in an office. I couldn’t handle … you know, the low-denier tights.’
He nodded. ‘Why don’t you go and work in gardens then? Or at least, you could go to an evening class.’
I stuck my hands in my ears. ‘Not listening … la la la la la … I know that … la la la la … I am completely pathetic … la la la!’
He smiled, and folded his arms, waiting for me to take my hands down.
‘I’m sorry, but …’
‘La! La la la la!’
‘Or you could …’
‘La la la! La la la la!’
‘OK, OK. Ehm … do you want to go into space?’
‘You asking?’
He smiled again. ‘Well, I’m a bit busy this month.’
‘Oh, yeah, me too. Well, you know how it is.’
‘I think I’ve got a window about 2017, though.’
‘Really? That’s amazing. I’m free that decade too.’
‘Maybe we could go then, then.’
‘Only if I get the window seat.’
‘OK. But no opening the duty-free space dust until we get in to land.’
‘You’re no fun.’
Suddenly, I found myself yawning. It was after one, and the coffee-shop owner was looking at us grumpily over the top of a mop which, judging from the floor, he had no intention of using.
Finn seemed a bit crestfallen. ‘You’re right, I am no fun and am in fact boring you senseless. Can I take you home?’
I waved him away. ‘Don’t be silly, of course you’re not boring me. It’s just late, that’s all. I’ll get a night bus, don’t worry.’
‘A night bus? On our date? I think not.’
He jumped up and stuck his head outside the door and, amazingly, hailed a cab almost immediately.
‘Cab,’ he said, sticking his head back round. There was rain dripping off the front of his glasses.
The mood changed as soon as we stepped into the cab. A man, a woman, in a cab, after a date. There must have been millions of us doing exactly the same thing all over the world at that very moment, with the same nerves and worries going through all of us. All the way back we edged closer and closer together, but remained in almost complete silence. Occasionally, we’d smile nervously at one another. I wasn’t really used to doing this without rather more alcohol in me than there was at the moment, so I was feeling terribly anxious. Finally, the cab pulled up, and Finn turned to me.
‘Ehm … I’ll just ask it to wait.’
Make your mind up time.
‘You could … come in for coffee, if you like,’ I said, staring hard at my hands.
‘More coffee … ehm, great!’ said Finn, paying the driver. I hopped out of the car, mentally checking what pants I had on. As we walked up the path, he reached out and gently took my hand, and I thought my heart was going to leap out of my mouth.
We went up the flight of stairs to the front door – underneath it there was a light on. We both saw it at the same time. And, just as I took out my key, Finn took me by the shoulders, and looked at me quizzically, as if checking everything would be all right. When I assured him with my eyes that it was, he leaned in very slowly and gently, and started to kiss me.
It was an international-standard kiss. Not desperately sexual, like one of those dog-humping-your-leg ones, and not coy either; strong, and sexy and very, very good indeed.
Eventually I pulled away.
‘Your mother didn’t put you in that class at school,’ I said breathlessly.
‘It was a very progressive school,’ he said, adding, ‘No, of course not!’ when he saw my face.
I unlocked the door. ‘Come in,’ I said, taking him by both hands. ‘Please.’
He followed me through the door. And we were gazing so intently at each other that I nearly fell over Addison, who was curled up in a ball by the telephone, silently crying his eyes out.
Seven
‘What!?’ I regained my balance, and let go of Finn’s hands. ‘Addison, what’s the matter?’
He didn’t look up. Finn crouched down beside him.
‘Ehm, hello there … are you all right?’ he asked, rather lamely.
I crouched down.
‘Add? Addy?’ I touched him lightly. With the desperation of a child, he grabbed me round the shoulders and clung to me as if his life depended on it. I glanced at Finn and grimaced.
‘Would you mind making some tea?’
He nodded, and it was as if, on some level, we both knew that regardless of what was going on with Addison, making tea was not the same as having coffee.
I heard him clattering about unsteadily in the kitchen.
‘What’s the matter, Add? Speak to me.’
I took his chin in my hand. A sudden dash of fear ran through me like icy water.
‘It’s not Kate, is it? Kate came back, didn’t she?’
He nodded miserably.
‘She’s asleep,’ he sniffed.
‘You mean she came in and didn’t see you on the landing?’
‘I pretended it was my contact lenses.’
Addison’s glasses were as thick as beer bottles, and sitting on the telephone table.
‘Wow. She must have been tired.’
‘I’m tired,’ said Addison quietly.
‘Come on.’ I hoisted him up. ‘Come and sit in the kitchen and we can sort this out.’
I half hauled him into the kitchen and dumped his long frame into a chair.
Finn was still shuffling around the cupboards.
‘Ehm … which tea should I use?’
I looked over my shoulder.
‘The own-brand, obviously. The Earl Grey is Kate’s, and she’d kill us.’
He nodded. ‘And who is it lives off Penguin biscuits?’
‘Ehmm … a penguin. Watch out if you want to use the bathtub.’ I turned back to Addison.
‘Oh, right.’
I picked up Addison’s hand, waiting for the last few tear drops to squeeze their way down his cheeks and for him to become composed enough to talk to us without snortling. Finally Finn put down the mugs of tea, and a plate of biscuits that everyone ignored.
‘Do you mind me being here?’ he said.
Fatally, I looked to Addison for the answer to that question. What I should have done was say, ‘No, I don’t mind – Addison, do you?’ But I didn’t. I didn’t make any sign that Finn and I were in any way connected.
Addison lifted his head a fraction.
‘I don’t mind.’
‘OK,’ I said, grasping his hand more firmly. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Well,’ he sniffed, ‘the phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing …’
‘You never answer the phone.’
‘I know. But it wouldn’t stop ringing.’
‘It’s not Claudia, is it?’ I said, wondering before I could stop myself whether she’d met someone else.
‘Oh no – Claudia! I haven’t spoken to her all night. She’ll be wondering where I am.’
‘Well, let her wonder for just a little bit longer, tiger. Who was the phone call from?’
‘My mum.’
‘Your mum? She usually phones on a Sunday, doesn’t she?’
He nodded.
‘Well …’
‘She phoned to wish me a happy birthday.’
‘Oh, when’s your birthday?’
His face crumpled.
‘Today. And I forgot!!!’
He burst into noisy sobs again. Finn and I looked at each other, concerned.
I put my arm round his shoulder.
‘You know, Add, that might be a little bit flakey, but I wouldn’t get too upset about it.’
‘You don’t understand. The date of my birthday and the date of the fire … I get them mixed up, and I always remember the wrong one.’
It was the seventh of June.
‘What was the date of the fire?’ I asked quietly.
‘The seventh of July.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Eleven years and – sniff – one month.’
‘Ohh, Addison.’
He felt chilled and damp through from crying.
‘Drink some tea.’
‘When I know it’s coming, it’s not so bad … but this year I forgot.’
I wondered how he could forget his own birthday. As soon as N
ovember dawned, I was jumping about like a bumblebee in anticipation. Well, it used to be anticipation. These days, it was more like dread.
‘I forget mine all the time,’ said Finn. ‘I’ll be up to my eyes in the lab and someone will shout out the date and I’ll remember.’
Addison nodded.
‘I usually schedule some really difficult coding … just to take my mind off things.’
‘I’m sorry, mate,’ said Finn.
‘I miss him, Holly,’ said Addison.
I thought for a moment he meant Finn, then cottoned on.
‘Your dad?’
‘He bought me my first ZX81.’
‘Err … did he? That was nice.’
‘And he taught me C+. Rudimentary, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ said Finn.
‘OK, scientist boys …’ I thought for a moment. ‘You know, Add, I think maybe this year we need to celebrate your birthday.’
He looked up. ‘I don’t …’
‘I know. But I think maybe you should. In fact, I think you have to. I think, maybe, it’s been too long since you had a birthday party.’
Finn nodded in agreement.
‘But …’
‘We’ll make it on another date. We’ll crown you a new birthday.’
He sat, silent and worried.
‘Don’t worry, it will just be us in the flat.’
‘Will you be there?’ Addison asked Finn.
Finn looked at me. ‘Yes, of course he will,’ I said.
Addison appeared unconvinced.
‘Now, come on. We’ll talk about it more in the morning. Let’s put you to bed. You don’t sleep enough; you must be exhausted.’
There was a sense of tired relief on his face, as if just being able to tell someone had helped; was all he wanted. Addison let me lead him off to bed as dopily as a child. Finn looked up with a hopeful expression on his face just as I left the room.
I turned back.
‘I’m going to … sit with him while he goes to sleep … just to make sure, OK?’
He seemed briefly disappointed, but quickly covered it up.
‘Right, well, I’d better be … you know, it’s pretty late.’
‘It is,’ I said.
‘OK. I’ll just … see you soon? You know, date two?’
‘Yes – ehm, I’ll ring you about Addison’s birthday,’ I said. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’
