Pretty Twisted (14 page)

‘You woke me up, y’know,’ said Hugh. ‘I hope you’re happy.’

‘Sorry. You can go back to bed now.’

He yawned and pulled on a shirt that was lying across one of the couches. ‘Maybe I’ll stretch my legs instead. Where are you off to, cute Ros?’

‘Somewhere.’ I made for the stairs and out on to the street. Hugh ambled after me. Dog slipped out too and trotted off down the street, sniffing at rubbish bins.

‘Is it safe for him to wander about?’ I asked. ‘He might get run over.’

‘Not that one; he’s a survivor. ’Sides, not many cars come down here.’ Hugh tilted his face skywards. ‘So this is what morning feels like.’

I made a non-committal noise and we walked in silence to the station. ‘Bye,’ I said, as I fed my travel card into the ticket barrier. My train was waiting on the platform and I hopped on, thankful to have lost Hugh. But as I sat down I saw him sauntering down the carriage.

‘We going shopping?’ he asked, taking the next seat. I glared at him.

‘Stop following me.’

‘I’m not following you. I’m accompanying you.’

‘You’re wasting your money.’

‘Nope.’ He waved an Oyster card at me. ‘This is Graham’s. I borrow it every so often. My good luck it was in my pocket from yesterday, isn’t it?’

I stared at him. He gave me a big grin.

‘Off to see your boyfriend, sweetheart?’

‘Do you specialize in annoying people?’

‘You shouldn’t be so secretive. Makes me curious.’

‘Don’t you have anything better to do – like finding a job? You keep saying how skint you are.’

‘Easier said than done. You seen the unemployment figures? I’d rather live off Graham for a couple of months than fill out loads of job apps that get chucked straight in the bin.’

The train pulled into Earl’s Court. I got off and waited for the Richmond train. When Hugh stepped on to the new train and sat beside me I began to feel a little panicked. If he was doing this as a joke, it really wasn’t funny any more. Trying to sound firm, I said, ‘I’m not going anywhere interesting. Why do you care, anyway?’

‘I’m bored, and you’re a funny kid I haven’t figured out yet.’

The train arrived at West Kensington. Several people got on and took the remaining seats, leaving an elderly lady on her feet. Hugh stood up.

‘Want to sit down?’

The old lady took his seat, thanking Hugh and telling him he was a gentleman. Hugh smiled and moved to hold on to one of the poles by the doors. Suddenly I was confused. The last time I had seen anyone give up their seat had been ages ago. It was easier to pretend you hadn’t seen, like everyone else on the carriage had just now.

When we neared Richmond, I stood up.

Hugh raised his eyebrows. ‘Why’re you looking at me like that?’

‘You gave up your seat.’

‘So?’

‘Nothing,’ I said quickly. Hugh rolled his eyes.

We got off. After gaining my bearings, I found my way off the high street, across the green and to a residential street near the river. In the middle of the road was an island with a few trees, and I sat down with my back against one.

‘I’m hungry,’ Hugh said. ‘Want a bite to eat? There was a Tesco Metro back there.’

Somehow, it didn’t feel OK any more to tell him to leave me alone. Hugh headed off and returned with a bag of doughnuts. He sat down beside me. I took one when he offered.

‘You and your doughnuts,’ I said.

‘Doughnuts make a very respectable meal. Out to lunch, that’s what we are.’

‘It isn’t lunchtime yet.’

‘Breakfast, brunch, whatever. So why are we here?’

After just a moment’s hesitation I took out the ring binder I’d been carrying under my arm and showed Hugh Freya’s photograph. ‘Fine. I’m waiting for her, OK? Don’t say anything when she comes out. I don’t want her to know who I am.’

‘Pretty girl.’ Before I could stop him, he had flicked to the next plastic wallet, which contained a picture of a catwalk model I’d cut from one of Olivia’s magazines.

‘Give that back.’ I tried to grab it, but he moved to one side and turned the page, this time to a newspaper clipping of a glamorous actress. I reached across and managed to snatch it away. Not looking at him, I crossed my arms over the folder and hugged it to my chest.

‘You weird kid,’ said Hugh, sounding amused. ‘Collect photos of hot girls, do we?’

‘I like looking at pretty people in pretty clothes.’ It wasn’t a crime, but I couldn’t help but sound defensive. ‘Lots of girls keep pictures of fashion models if they like their clothes. Anyway, I use them for drawing reference.’

‘The first girl’s not from a magazine.’

‘I’m curious about her – that’s all.’

Hugh gave me a look, but didn’t say anything. I wished he’d go away. Even though he possibly wasn’t as bad as I’d thought, I felt embarrassed. Minutes passed. A few people came by, some giving us curious glances. We probably looked a strange pair. At about one, the door to number fifty-seven opened and Freya stepped out. Just like with Jonathan at the station, it felt odd coming face to face with someone I’d seen in photographs. I’d secretly been hoping Freya was one of those people who only looked great through a camera lens, but she was just as vibrant-looking in the flesh – the kind of girl people didn’t forget. Today she was wearing a floral-print minidress and bright green tights. I did my best to look nonchalant as she walked past.

Hugh, however, wolf-whistled. Freya paused and turned her head. He gave her a broad smile and a wave. She regarded us quizzically for a moment, then moved on.

‘I told you not to say anything!’ I hissed.

‘I didn’t. Since when was whistling talking?’

‘Go home!’

‘No way. I’m far too interested.’

I got up and walked after Freya, who was almost out of sight. She headed to the station. I waited until a couple of people had got between us and followed her through the barriers and on to a train. I was ready to duck down if she looked my way, but she got out a magazine and read it until we changed on to the Central Line.

‘We’re going shopping after all,’ remarked Hugh as we got out at Notting Hill Gate.

Freya disappeared into a shop called Retro Babe.

‘Going in?’ asked Hugh.

‘No. She’ll notice us. I just want to see what she buys.’

‘Why are you stalking her?’

I backed away from the window, almost colliding with a passer-by. I’m not.’

‘What? You waited outside her home and followed her here. In my book, that’s stalking. This a random hobby of yours, or is Miss Sixties special?’

‘I’m just checking her out,’ I mumbled. ‘Not against the law, is it?’

‘Ah! Hadn’t got you down as that way inclined, but if it’s what floats your boat—’

‘Shut up, Hugh, she’s not the one I’m really interested in, OK? If all you’re going to do is poke fun, you can just get stuffed!’

Hugh looked at me a moment, then nodded. ‘I get it. She’s your boyfriend’s girlfriend.’

I couldn’t disguise my surprise. ‘How did you work that out?’

‘You’re dressing like her. Biggest telltale there is. Listen, kid, however much you want to, you can’t become her. You should get out before you do anything you’ll regret. Cos stalking, you know, is gonna turn you into a crazy psycho sooner or later.’

I stared at him, biting my lip.

Freya reappeared clutching a carrier bag. Seeing a bus just down the road, she ran towards it, waving her arm, her kitten heels clicking along the pavement. On automatic I followed, flashing my travel card to the driver, and took the seat behind her. Hugh sat across the aisle. I turned my face to the window so I didn’t have to look at him.

‘He’s not worth it, sweetheart,’ Hugh said softly. Then, sharply, ‘Hey, Miss Sixties, the kid here’s been stalking you.’

Freya turned from inspecting the shoes she’d bought, looking startled. Her eyes connected with mine before I bolted from my seat, pressing one of the stop buttons. The bus came to a halt and I jumped off, not looking back. Noticing a litter bin, I jammed my ring binder inside. Then I walked, and kept on walking. I didn’t care where I ended up. I just wanted to get away.

How could I have become so wound up in Jonathan that I hadn’t realized following his girlfriend was creepy? Stalking wasn’t normal, not in any way. And why did being friends with Jonathan seem so important? I’d never even met him. It made no sense to feel so strongly, but I did.

I really ought to leave it, like Hugh had said.

But I knew I wasn’t going to.

From: ‘Jonathan H. Oxley’

To: ‘Ros Fielding’

Date: Sunday 12 October, 10:30

Jonathan

Saturday 18 October, 4.40 p.m.

‘Family thing’. I wasn’t convinced, but I decided to let it go. I’d missed Ros, more than I thought I could miss someone I’d never met. Funny how talking on a screen seemed more real than the conversations I had with people at college. I could never tell
them
how worried I was about Freya. After the evening at the conservatoire, the weekend had gone OK, but I’d felt a distance between us that hadn’t been there previously. Even my birthday present to her – genuine sixties gloves I’d found online – hadn’t helped. And despite me saying we needed to talk more, if anything we talked less. Since I’d come home, Freya was increasingly difficult to get hold of, not always returning my calls and rarely chatting long when she did. She said mid-term performances were taking up all her time. Perhaps I was being paranoid again, but I did wonder how true that was.

maybe shes just busy with other ppl,
Rosalind said one night.
she still likes u, but ur just not no1 rite now.

I felt special before. Now I get the feeling I’ve become a bore.

wd u b sayin this if that wkend b4 her bday had gone ok?