by Louisa Reid
‘Love you too, pal.’ He felt Peter’s smile against his cheek and smiled himself.
It was the first time he’d spent the evening at the Grange and Leo wondered if his imagination had tricked him. He’d been sure there’d be something to be scared, or at least wary, of. They ate biscuits, drank flat coke and watched the film, sitting close on the sofa. It was cold, but Audrey pulled a throw over them and they huddled up.
‘It’s snowing,’ he said later, looking out of the window.
‘You’ll be all right walking back?’
‘Sure. It’s not far.’ He had his arm round Audrey and hadn’t actually been thinking about leaving at all.
‘What shall we do?’
‘I don’t know. Do you want to explore?’ Something in him wanted to see the place for himself. Check she was safe here.
‘Sure,’ she said, ‘get your coat. I know where to go.’
Audrey
We climbed the two floors up to the top of the Grange and I pulled Leo out on to the fire escape.
Snowflakes fell softly, melting flowers on to our faces.
‘I’ve seen you up here,’ he said, as I stuck out my tongue to catch the icy flakes.
‘Yeah. I’ve seen you too. Not that I’ve been watching or anything.’
‘Haven’t you?’ he said, and I raised an eyebrow, took off my glasses and wiped them.
‘Well. Maybe. I watch you and I wonder.’ His face was a little blurred now, and I stared into a muddle of brown and gold, soft and sharp. His collar was up, his scarf wrapped loosely.
‘What do you wonder?’
‘What you’re running from.’ I shoved my glasses back on, still all smeared. What a stupid thing to say. He was jogging. Taking exercise; people did that sort of thing – that’s all it was. But Leo laughed and brushed the snowflakes from my hair.
‘Running from? Nothing. Running to, Aud, running to. That’s the question you need to ask yourself.’
‘Oh.’ I sat down on the top step and he joined me, fitting in exactly. ‘Well, there’s a lot I don’t know about you,’ I said, staring out at the white winter sky.
‘Yeah? What like?’
‘Well, when’s your birthday for a start?’
‘August, annoyingly.’
I clapped my hands. Perfect.
‘You really are a lion, then!’
‘Oh, well, I suppose so.’ Leo looked at me, a bit puzzled.
‘Mum’s into horoscopes and all that. Leos are brave, I think.’
‘And proud and pretentious. It’s all the hair,’ he said, shaking his head. I nudged him with my elbow.
Leo went on, considering, ‘Anyway, I don’t think you can tell if someone’s brave or good or whatever because of their name, or when they were born. It doesn’t work like that.’
‘It helps.’
‘No, I think it’s different. Being brave’s about being strong. And being strong, well, strong comes from being loved, don’t you think? If you know you’re loved, then that’s all it takes. Love gives you legs of steel.’
I thought about Peter and how I was his armour and saw that Leo was right.
‘I still have your coat,’ I told him, ‘as you can see.’ I wore it all the time.
‘That’s OK.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll grab it back some other time.’
‘And I found this.’ I reached into the pocket and clasped my fingers round the tiny paper figure I’d found hiding there. ‘Did you make the others? The bird, the flower, the arrows?’ I held the figure on my palm, and it seemed to quiver as if it had a life of its own.
‘I think it was that pigeon you mentioned,’ Leo said, making me laugh.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I said. ‘Can I keep it?’
‘Of course, it was for you anyway. I don’t know if you can tell, but it’s supposed to be you, superhero-style. Because I reckon you’re brave too, Aud.’
I flushed. That was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to me and I wanted it to be true.
Leo
It was easy to make Audrey happy, to make her smile. And easy to kiss her then, with no one to spy or shout or interrupt, the easiest thing he’d ever done and it lasted a long time. Much longer than before. If Lorraine was working every Friday, then Leo would be here every Friday.
‘Shit,’ Aud said when they stopped. Her glasses had misted over and she pulled them off and wiped them clean with the tip of a finger before shoving them back on her face.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Just. Oh my God, and stuff.’
Leo laughed, he couldn’t help it. She was acting like this was a surprise or something.
‘Audrey, you’re hilarious.’ He kissed her again. ‘And lovely –’ she laughed, made a scathing noise – ‘and totally weird.’
‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘I like weird.’
They didn’t explore the rest of the Grange, didn’t waste time searching for secret hidden horror. Instead, they wasted all their time kissing, in secret, totally hidden from everything and everyone, high above the world, snow-blind and sure.
Audrey
I was glad Leo hadn’t come up to my room. I hadn’t had time to deal with it and didn’t want him to see the mess. After he left I sat on the bed, slowly taking off my clothes. My mouth was hot and swollen, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
I took off my pants and stood up, naked, my body turning to goosebumps in the cold. My scars ran up my arms, my legs, up my thighs. Running a fingertip over the bright white ridges, I searched for words, a picture, maybe a map. Like ancient hieroglyphics, I tried to read the messages.
‘So,’ I whispered, waiting for the Thing, looking round, searching. ‘Here I am. And?’
I listened for the hammer in my head, the drumbeat in my veins. But there was no answer. Not now I was so brave.
‘I’m fine, you see,’ I said. ‘I’m growing up. Grown up. I don’t need to be afraid of you now. You’re not going to stop me doing stuff; you’re not going to make me ill, get me thinking I’m mad again. I’m not going to die out here,’ I said. ‘I won’t drown.’
Since I’d been seeing Harry, my arms had healed and I held them out in front of me.
‘See? I’m better. It won’t happen again. I can promise you that. You won’t get me again.’
I pulled on my nightie, got into bed and covered my ears. It wouldn’t wake me; it wouldn’t dare disturb my dreams. Not tonight.
December
Leo
Suddenly there were only a few days of term left and Leo wondered where all the time had gone. Christmas party invitations were delivered and class nights out were planned, but Leo wasn’t bothered unless Aud could come with him.
‘I can’t. You know what my mum’s like,’ she said, staring at the floor.
‘Overprotective?’ he hazarded, which was the least offensive thing he could think to say about Lorraine.
‘Yes.’ Audrey stared up at him and he couldn’t look away. ‘You go without me.’
‘No, I’ll give it a miss.’ They lingered in the corridor, ignoring the bell. Leo considered. ‘We should just take the afternoon off. There’s nothing happening here, just DVDs and quizzes. It’s a waste of time. Come on – let’s go.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘I am. Never more so. I want to be with you, Aud. Just us again, OK?’
She looked up at him and brushed her fringe out of her eyes.
‘Just us,’ she said, an echo, a spell.
They couldn’t stop laughing, lurching through the slush and the mud, trying to run down the embankment away from school and back to the farm. Audrey gripped Leo’s hand and threw herself at the wind. He pulled her back to him and for a while they waltzed and he hummed ‘Twist and Shout’ as he turned and danced them home.
When they got back Leo made tea, passed Audrey a mug, and then carved big doorstep sandwiches from a fresh loaf and presented her with a plateful.
‘Last of the gooseberry chutney,’ he said, ‘just fo
r you, Aud.’
‘Thanks.’ She nibbled a corner. Leo crouched in front of the fire, which had already been laid with kindling and logs and coal. It burst into flame when he touched it with a match.
‘Good,’ he said, grabbing his own plate and sitting opposite across the pine table. ‘Come on – eat up.’
She nibbled again as Leo tore through his.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’
‘Not really; sorry.’ Audrey pushed her plate away.
‘But we didn’t have any lunch. And we’ve been walking. I can make you something else?’
‘No, it’s all right. I just feel a bit sick, that’s all. The tea’s helping.’
‘Why d’you feel sick?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe my meds.’ Aud wouldn’t look at him. He hated that.
‘I thought you’d stopped taking them?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Why?’
‘I just can’t.’ Her voice rose, frustrated, and Leo leant back in his chair and raked his hands through his hair. Audrey reached forward and touched his cheek.
‘Don’t worry, OK?’
‘You can talk to me,’ Leo said.
‘It’s nothing. Just leave it,’ she told him, and he pushed his own plate away and took her hand, pulling her up and over to the fire.
Audrey
There was no way I could tell Leo the way things were. That if I didn’t take the meds and talk to Harry and go to Caldwell, then the Thing would come worse than ever. Who’d want a girlfriend who said stuff like that? I just had to keep things even and calm, in fine precarious balance. Mum happy, Peter. Even Leo. Give everyone the version of me they needed.
‘Audrey,’ he whispered when I started to kiss him, like he still wanted to talk. But I didn’t. I wanted to be close to him, so close you wouldn’t even fit a blade of grass between us. I wanted to kiss him for longer than thirty seconds for a change, to forget everything here and now, in his arms.
‘Shh,’ I said, pulling closer, kissing harder and he moved towards me. I undid his buttons, pushed off his shirt, his jeans too, kissed the muscles in his shoulders, in his arms. And he took off my clothes, gently, his eyes full of questions.
But there was no question. This was just now, and the afternoon dipped and swung like the comfiest bed, and everything was right. That’s how it felt. I forgot to hide when it was Leo’s eyes looking; I forgot to be frightened of feeling, forgot to be ashamed. If he said I was all right, then that was the truth, because Leo didn’t lie. He was mine. And I understood the point of everything, right then and there. That happiness was being loved for who you were without reservation or hesitation, without stepping backwards and checking your phone or seeing what someone else thought. It was trust; it was faith; it was knowing that the love you gave was safe in someone else’s heart.
Leo sighed and breathed and stopped. He kissed my hair and my eyelids and the tiny mole on the right-hand side of my jaw like I was precious.
Leo
Someone had to be the sensible one and Leo guessed it would have to be him, although his brain was burning like the coals in the fire, glowing with heat; his whole body too.
‘Aud,’ he said. He had his shirt off. So did she. And her body was beautiful. He leant and kissed her breast and she shivered.
‘We should stop,’ he whispered, looking up at her. ‘Sue’ll be home soon.’
‘OK,’ she answered, not moving, looping her arms round his neck. Leo lay next to her again and ran his lips across the sharp line of her collarbone. She tasted of the winter day outside and of fire, of hot, dancing fire. Audrey’s hands clutched at his shoulders; her mouth was everywhere and his body was ticking like a bomb.
Kissing her like this, and her holding him, pulling him tightly against her, it was impossible to stop. No one would. But it was all so fast: from a kiss, to this, to lying with her, naked, her long legs and arms, her hair wild and everywhere, and her heart thumping so hard against her ribs.
‘Is this right?’ she said as she touched him. He nodded, of course; how could he say no?
But he couldn’t go on; he couldn’t let it happen.
‘OK,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’m getting dressed. And you should too.’ It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, he reckoned, to stand up and pull on his T-shirt and jumper and compose himself. He opened the back door and let in a gust of cold December air.
When he turned round Audrey was still sitting on the rug, her knees folded to her chest, her head resting there, her hair cascading down her back. She was a willow, a lily. She looked up at him, her eyes big without her glasses, and blinked, then said, ‘Is it because of this?’
She held out her arms.
‘No.’ Leo shook his head and went to her. ‘No. Don’t think that.’
He held her and kissed her again until the moon passed the sun and the sky ached into evening.
School broke up and so there was no more skiving off to be had. In theory he should have been able to talk to Audrey all day: to make plans, plot and whisper. Because now Audrey was the only thing; he thought of her and his stomach swung, his eyes blurred and usually he had to sit down. Leo stood in the field; he was supposed to be bringing the pony up to the stable. The vet was coming later. Frost glittered on the fields in the morning light and he looked over the woods to the Grange, thinking how he should be revising maybe. A line of poetry came. Thank you, Mr Donne, he thought, whispering the words in the direction of the Grange: ‘I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I did, till we loved?’ Perhaps he could smuggle Audrey into the farm. They’d hibernate for the winter, up in his room or out in the barn. His head swam at the thought. Sue kept looking at him, an exclamation mark in her eyes, and he guessed it was written all over him: love. That’s what this was. It had happened in a hurry, in the end, and now it was the feeling of running incredibly fast, the feeling when his legs began to fly as if barely touching the ground, like you could conquer the world in a stride. He put his head against the pony’s face and breathed in the sweetness, stroked her velvet nose. Love. Should he tell her? Not yet.
Leo racked his brains for something special to plan, maybe they’d go up to town and see the Christmas lights. Go Christmas shopping, hear a band, ice-skating, anything. He wanted plans, decisions, and so he rang the landline. And for once someone answered: Lorraine.
‘Hi, it’s Leo,’ he said, worrying in that moment that this was a mistake and that he should have hung up. But he needed to hear Audrey’s voice, at least, just for a minute or two.
‘Who? Pardon?’ Lorraine hadn’t been over for the past two weeks and Sue had wondered if she was OK. He could confirm now that she was not.
‘It’s Leo,’ he repeated, keeping his voice polite, formal. ‘May I talk to Audrey, please?’
‘No. She’s not home. I’ve told you before; don’t ring here. I don’t want you pestering my daughter.’ There was a tightness to her voice like she was holding something back, like she’d have preferred to swear at him, scream or shout. She hung up before he could answer.
‘What happened?’ Sue asked, staring at him.
‘Nothing. Wrong number.’
‘Oh, well, try again.’
‘No, no it’s OK. I’ll call later.’
He walked up to his room – he should have been revising – and tried to read, but the sentences ran into one another and made no sense.
Audrey
‘Mum! Was that Leo? Why did you speak to him like that?’ I snatched at the receiver. She held it away from me.
‘You what?’ Her face reddened, eyes popping, staring at me as she put down the phone.
‘What are you trying to do? Are you trying to ruin everything for me?’
Mum’s voice was pretend calm. Patient. ‘Audrey, you know fine rightly that your welfare is my only concern. And, that aside, I thought I told you. I don’t want you seeing that boy.’
‘There’s no big deal. I just like him. He likes me. That’s it. There’s nothing horrible
going on. Don’t you want me to have friends?’ Stupid question. Where were all my other friends? And hers? And Peter’s? Our emails, letters, phone calls, texts? Even my dad hadn’t bothered to keep us. I saw our lives and our future spinning and spiralling in smaller and smaller circles, then disappearing into the dust of time. Just Mum and me and Peter. And nothing.
‘There’s no need to be hysterical about this, Audrey. I don’t want that lad interrupting our precious family time, end of. You’re on another planet these days, racing off out of here every chance you get.’ She threw up her hands, exasperated. ‘I get little enough time with you and Pete. That is why I asked your boyfriend not to call.’
‘You shouldn’t have. I could have spoken to him and explained.’ We stood there, not close, held apart; two magnets, poles repelling.
She rolled her eyes and sighed as if I were the unreasonable one. I got that Mum had taken time off again for the holidays and we were going to spend that time together, but Leo had only phoned; that wasn’t a crime.
I looked at Peter – he had his coat on already and was waiting by the front door. Mum had said she might take us up to town Christmas shopping, or maybe to the cinema or the panto. He was dying to go to the panto and was practising shouting, ‘He’s behind you,’ every time he caught one of us off guard. A minute ago Mum had been smiling, looking like she could be persuaded.
‘I don’t want to hear it,’ she said, walking away, lighting her fag, pretending to watch the TV.
‘What about the panto, Aud?’ Peter said, looking from Mum to me and back to Mum. I nodded and whispered it’d be OK.
But when I spoke she turned up the volume.
‘Mum, please, let me tell you, let me explain, please.’
She lifted the controller. The volume increased until the flat shook with the noise of the saleswoman’s voice as she squawked about the range of kitchen utensils on special offer, and I saw Mum rummage in her handbag for her credit card, then scan the room searching for the phone.
