Lies Like Love (14 page)

November got darker but school got better. It was like I had bodyguards: Jen on one side, and then every break, every lunch, Leo. He would be waiting outside the classroom, like my timetable was tattooed on his brain or something, and then he’d sling his arm round my shoulders and we’d slope off. The last Monday of the month we wandered along like that, tied up in each other, a cat’s-cradle. I put both arms round his waist and he rested the side of his head against mine as we walked and I felt his brain whirring even through his blue bobble hat. He was always thinking, thinking, thinking.

‘You should be some sort of professor,’ I told him.

‘No, thanks.’

‘What, then? What are you going to do next year?’

‘Next year? I prefer not to think about it. I’m a
carpe diem
sort of guy.’

I butted his shoulder with my head. ‘Don’t be flipping daft.’

‘Daft?’ He raised his eyebrows in outrage, then spun me into his arms.

‘I’ll show you daft,’ he said, and we stood there in the playground among the footballs and the yelling and the bored kids chewing gum, stood amid the piles of autumn leaves, our foreheads touching, then our cheeks and chins
and I wrapped my arms round him, inside his coat, and he pulled me close like that, keeping warm.

It was the rain that woke me up the next morning, tapping and pattering on the window. I ran to the kitchen; Peter had already gone to school. I had a History test and couldn’t be late.

‘Why didn’t you call me?’ I said, hunting for my shoes. ‘Look at the time, Mum.’

Mum was sitting watching telly and knitting. She was making Sue a jumper for Christmas, to thank her for being such a good friend.

‘I thought you needed the rest. You were pacing again, Audrey, all night.’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘Yes, you were, and I heard you talking. I’ve been on the phone to the unit. I’m trying to get hold of Harry’

‘Mum, I don’t want to see Harry.’

‘Tough.’

I pulled on a pair of old plimsolls and ran out of the flat down to the lobby, checking the letter box on the way. Today there was a tiny bird. Not a real bird, but another paper creation twisted out of poetry, its wings spread wide, even its tiny feet perfectly fashioned. I made out the words –
I
,
heaven
,
light
,
dreams
– and I whispered them over and over, trying to decipher the code.

‘What are you doing?’ Mum said, appearing in the doorway behind me, her uniform on.

‘Nothing.’

I hid the bird behind me. It fluttered in my hand.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘get a move on. And get Peter after school – don’t forget.’

‘Course I won’t.’

‘Good. And I’ll get that appointment sorted, right?’ she challenged, her eyes popping at me as if daring me to complain.

‘OK,’ I said, and raced away to school.

That afternoon I stood waiting for Peter at the primary-school gate, wrapping my scarf high round my face so no one would talk to me. I stared across to the college. I’d not seen Leo all day; I’d done extra work at lunchtime with Jen on our English project and Leo had had a meeting with his tutor at break.

Peter emerged and I bent down to hug him.

‘This is my friend,’ he said, pulling me over to meet a little boy in a red anorak, then hiding behind my legs.

‘Hello,’ I said. The mum smiled briefly at me.

‘Pete, hey, why don’t you introduce us?’ I said, prising him out from behind me.

‘This is my sister. She’s called Audrey,’ he said to the little boy, who grinned at me, and then they started chasing.

‘Nicky, come back,’ the woman yelled, abandoning her buggy and dashing off after them. But Nicky was fast and he and Peter flew in circles. All I could do was laugh.

‘We’ll be late now,’ the woman said to Nicky when she caught him, pulling him along by his sleeve, and they hustled off without saying goodbye.

‘Right, Pete, I guess we should go too.’

‘Can we invite Nicky to play round our house?’

‘Maybe. Let’s ask Mum, OK?’

‘She’ll say no,’ he said, jamming his thumb in his mouth, and I grabbed his hand.

‘Let’s sing the going-home song,’ I said, but he stuck out his bottom lip, dragging his feet as I started to walk him out of the playground.

Where was Leo? I would have missed him by now, the last stragglers were just leaving college and Leo always got out first. He’d be halfway home along the embankment, I reckoned.

‘I’ve got a good idea,’ I said, ‘let’s go to the farm.’

‘I’m tired. My feet hurt.’

‘I’ll carry you?’

Peter stared at me, a big
no
in his face, so we stood at the bus stop instead and it began to rain.

‘Pull over, there’s Aud and Peter.’

Sue nodded and stopped. Leo wound down the window and leant out.

‘Lift?’ he said, thanking the gods, or whoever was in charge of life’s little tricks of fate for this. Usually Lorraine picked them up from school.

Audrey helped Peter up first and then squashed in beside him. Leo reached for her hand without thinking and held it.

Sue cleared her throat. She touched the indicator and pulled back out into the traffic.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘good job we found you, or you’d have been drenched by the time that bus came.’

‘Thanks, Sue,’ said Audrey. Leo squeezed her fingers and leant across Peter to whisper in her ear.

‘Where’ve you been?’ he murmured. His mouth was very near her neck. Her skin smelled of the cold, and roses, deep-red winter roses. He let his lips touch her ear and she jumped.

‘We’d better drop you off at home,’ said Sue. ‘We’re on our way to visit friends.’

‘Oh, thanks; thanks for that.’

‘It’s no problem,’ Sue said. ‘Get those sweets out of my handbag, Leo – share them out.’

When they got to the Grange Leo got out of the Land Rover too. He walked them up to the front door.

‘Right,’ he said, ‘I have to see you – so, when? School’s not enough. Lunchtimes are too short. And cold.’

‘Soon,’ Aud promised. ‘Friday. Mum always works Friday nights. Can you come?’

‘Yeah.’ He looked back at Sue, who was pretending not to be watching. Peter was kicking at the front door.

‘Aud,’ Peter said. ‘Come on, Aud.’

‘You’d better go.’

‘Yes,’ Audrey said, still standing there.

‘Bye, then.’

‘Bye.’

Then they stumbled into one another, very fast, and there was the smudge of a kiss, but it burned his mouth and she fumbled with her keys and that was all.

At some point his mother had to find out about Audrey. Sue claimed she hadn’t mentioned her, or if she had she certainly hadn’t meant to. But his mum just knew. Leo wondered when he’d stop being an open book to her, how thousands of miles away she could still read him. It was after they’d got home to the farm, after the dull supper at some WI mate of Sue’s, that she called.

‘So. A new girlfriend?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Leo, I can guess, just by the look in your eyes.’

He dodged out of view and she shouted at him from the computer screen, half laughing.

‘Well, I hope she’s a nice girl, bright and gives you a bit of challenge. And I hope she appreciates how lucky she is. Jecca only emailed the other day, said she wondered if you two might hook up in the Christmas break. But I suppose you’re staying in the sticks?’

‘That depends. If you want me to come to London, I will. You’ll be coming over, right?’

‘Sorry, darling, I’m not.’ Her voice was tinged with regret, then she justified herself: ‘Work’s hectic. You could always come out to us, you know. Either way, Jecca would love to see you if you make it to town. And take the girlfriend. What’s her name?’

‘Audrey. She’s not really my girlfriend.’ He scratched his nail on the wood of the table, caught a splinter in the soft skin of his thumb. He didn’t know why he’d lied.

‘Good.’

‘Mother,’ Leo warned, and his mum smoothed her hair back, regarded him with a cool, appraising stare.

‘And how’s school? I hope this Audrey isn’t getting in the way of your work.’

‘As if, Mum. You know I live and breathe my work.’

‘Don’t be sarcastic. Lowest form of wit, darling.’

He’d been surprised: she left it at that and their conversation had finished soon after. Like she said, she was busy. And he ought to have been busy on his latest essay for Mr Bruce. They’d moved on to Renaissance poetry: John Donne. He had to admit he rather liked John Donne.

On Friday, instead of grappling with metaphysical longings, Leo called round for Audrey, as they’d planned. When he knocked on the door of the flat she answered, pink-cheeked and smelling of sugar.

‘Pete and I made biscuits. Here –’ she held out the plate – ‘they’re good. A success for once. Despite the crap oven.’

He crammed the warm biscuit into his mouth, grinning while chewing. There was no sign of Lorraine, and Leo let the tension out of his shoulders. They had the place to themselves and it smelled better; that musty, mouldering odour had all but gone. Leo spied a bottle of bleach in the kitchen bin, rubber gloves on the worktop and guessed Audrey had been cleaning. Up close she smelled of swimming pools. He didn’t mind.

‘Pete’s going to bed soon.’ She cast him a swift look, brushed her hair out of her face and smiled.

Audrey was still tidying up and Leo watched her wiping the counters, bustling about, and that made him smile too. It was good to be here and see that she was OK. He didn’t know what Lorraine had been talking about; the Audrey she described was never the one he saw. ‘I’ll read Pete a story if you like,’ he said, ‘and then we could watch a film. I brought a DVD.’

Leo could hear Audrey humming downstairs as he read the bedtime story. She wasn’t exactly tuneful, but he liked the cheerful sound. Peter had his thumb in his mouth and snuggled under the covers.

‘I love you, Leo,’ he said when Leo closed the book and stood up.

‘Thanks, Pete,’ he told him, surprised, not sure what to say, really. ‘You’re a good chap,’ he added, which he knew was the kind of thing his own father would have said to him on receipt of such a declaration of affection. Regretting it, he bent down, tucked the covers over Peter and kissed his forehead.

‘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.’

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.

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.