The Sound (29 page)

I know. I understand. It’s OK. I’m coming home.

When?

Tomorrow. I need to do something first.

What?

I have to see if I can fix something.

OMG. Is this so you can shag Jeremy because if it is please feel free to ignore my earlier advice.

It’s not about him.

Good. You know, stay a virgin. Virgins are happier. Honestly. Come home an alive virgin.

It’s not about that. I broke up with Jeremy.
(If that’s what you want to call it. I don’t think we were ever going out. I was just a number. I can’t tell Megan
this yet, though. I don’t have it in me to explain everything right now. That will require several hours, a kilo of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk and a box of Kleenex.)

Why????

Long story. Tell you when I’m home. I need to get on.

OK. Ren, take care please. CW2CU.

I close my computer and start formulating a plan.

I take the kids to camp and then I drive as fast as is legal over to Miller’s bike shop. Even from a distance I can see the carnage. Glass still glitters in the road and on the pavement,
although I can tell a good portion has been swept clear. The entire front of the store has been taken out and bikes lie on their sides as though a hurricane has swept through town and tossed the
entire contents of the shop onto the sidewalk. I picture Tyler and Parker and Jeremy setting about the place and trashing it. Did they laugh? Did they think it was funny? I feel sick just thinking
about it. All those times that Parker talked about them doing something, the time he left the party at the beach early – were they responsible for smashing in the door to Miller’s the
day before I turned up to hire a bike?

Mr Miller is outside the store, directing some men in blue overalls who are busy fixing heavy boarding to the smashed window frames. He turns when he hears my footsteps crunching on the
glass.

‘Hi, Ren,’ he says. He even tries to smile and my heart (the part not already broken) breaks all over again.

‘Hi, Mr Miller.’ I glance around again at the devastation. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, feeling helpless. ‘Do you know who did this? It’s awful.’

He shakes his head. But I see the way his eyes move to the left. He knows. He’s just not saying. First his daughter gets assaulted, then his son goes to prison and now his business is
destroyed. The hatred I feel for Tyler Reed jumps up a scale and I get a gut-searing sense of what it feels like to be Jesse, just for a moment, before I wrestle it back under control.

‘It’s OK,’ Mr Miller says, walking towards me. ‘They might have done us a favour. The insurance company are coming out to pay a visit tomorrow. I just need to get this
all cleared up, now they’ve taken the pictures.’ He gestures to the bikes lying on the ground and the chaos of fishing tackle, helmets and bicycle pumps that lie sprawled across the
inside of the store. Whole shelves have been knocked down and the contents thrown everywhere. A rack of T-shirts is the only thing left standing. Mr Miller is surveying the scene with me. I look at
him briefly and note the way his shoulders are sagging in defeat and his eyes are heavy with bags.

‘You know Jesse had been sleeping in the store?’ he says to me.

I shake my head. I hadn’t known that.

‘He kept saying something like this was going to happen and I didn’t believe him. I’m just happy he wasn’t here when they attacked the place.’ He glances quickly at
me and his voice is thick when he says, ‘I think they were really after him.’

My mouth falls open. I stare again at the destruction. If this is what they did to the store, I can only imagine what Tyler and Parker would have done to Jesse if they’d found him inside.
But he wasn’t there, thank God. I shudder inwardly and have to wrap my arms around my chest.

‘He told me he was giving you a ride home.’

I turn to Mr Miller. I nod. Somehow I feel like this makes the vandalism of his shop my fault.

‘It’s not your fault,’ he says as though he’s read my mind. ‘Like I said, I’m just glad neither of you were inside.’ He puts his arm around my shoulder
and squeezes. ‘It’s all going to be OK, Ren,’ he says and for a moment I almost believe him.

‘Can I help at all?’ I ask, waving my arm at all the mess.

‘No,’ he says, ‘you get on.’

‘Is there any way of getting hold of Jesse?’ I ask.

He shakes his head grimly. ‘Not on the boat. I’m sorry. I told him to get out on the water, get some space. He wanted to stay and help clear up but being around all this . . .’
He sighs. ‘Well, it’s just going to make him madder than he already is. I don’t want him getting any ideas for revenge into his head.’

I wince. I want so much to tell him what Jesse has planned, because what will happen to him when Jesse goes to prison? But I can’t. Jesse would never speak to me again. But I’m never
going to see him again anyway I tell myself, so why not? It might be my only chance. But I just can’t. I can’t betray him.

‘He likes you, you know.’

I look up. Mr Miller is smiling at me. I smile back weakly, thinking
not enough
.

‘I haven’t ever seen him so taken with a girl before. Don’t you go breaking his heart now.’ He says it lightly but I don’t mistake the tone in his voice, the worry.
‘He’s been through a lot in the last year.’

My hand clutches at my stomach. I can only shake my head and I turn around quickly and head to the car so he can’t see the tears falling down my cheeks.

I spend the rest of the day sitting by the harbour with a hot cup of coffee in my hand and another slowly cooling on the seat beside me. I am watching the waves for Jesse. He’s out on a
boat called
Morning Sunshine
. But I see no sign of it and I’ve gone so far as to find and ask the Harbour Master who says she doesn’t expect Jesse to be back until just before
sunset. I wait nonetheless until it’s time to pick up Braiden and Brodie and then I pick up the cold cup of coffee on the seat beside me and throw it into the garbage can.

I guess I won’t get to say goodbye after all.

Brodie comes bounding across the playground and flies into my arms. I have Braiden in his car seat so I’m holding her awkwardly on one hip. She grabs my head, twists it
and whispers in my ear, ‘I know where the book is.’

I pull her away so I can see her. She’s grinning widely at me, showing all her teeth.

I squeeze her tight. ‘You rule, Brodie Tripp.’

For the first time all day I feel some hope start to seep into my leaden limbs. I was planning on breaking into the Reeds’ house anyway to try to find the book but if I know where it is
that makes the whole burglary thing a bit easier.

After I put Brodie to bed and read her a story, she reaches a hand up and strokes my hair. ‘Will I see you again, Ren?’ she asks.

I lean forward and kiss her on the forehead. ‘Most definitely,’ I say but I can’t quiet the voice in my head that starts wondering about that. Will I ever come back? Will I
ever see her or Jesse again?

‘What are you going to do about the book?’ Brodie asks, her voice bubbling with excitement.

‘I’m going to get my hands on it,’ I tell her, ‘and teach Tyler Reed a lesson.’

‘Are you doing this because you love Jesse Miller?’

‘What?’ I ask, straightening up.

‘I saw you talking to him the other day. Outside the house. When Mom was yelling.’ She hides her mouth behind her hand and giggles. ‘I think you love him.’

‘I do not!’ I answer indignantly but an answering tremor in my tummy makes me alert to the possibility that this four-year-old might be on to something.
I am not in love with
Jesse Miller.
I refuse to be in love with anyone so stupid. The feeling of being impaled on an electricity pyre whenever I’m around him or think about him is just lust, not love.

Brodie wiggles her eyebrows at me and giggles some more.

I stroke her hair and then creep out of the room, stopping first to tuck Braiden in and give him a peck on the cheek.

I walk slowly back to my room and then I start to prepare. I pull on a pair of tight black jeans and a black T-shirt. I tie my hair up in a high ponytail and then I slip the can of mace and my
inhaler out of my bag and into my back pocket. I find my iPod, check the battery and slide it into my other pocket.

Before I head downstairs I check my email and see that Paige has finally sent me a Facebook message. I skim it and then get a move on. I am planning to tell Mike and Carrie that I’m having
an early night but really I’m going to wait for them to lock themselves in the den and the study respectively, as is their habit, and then sneak out the back where I’ve stashed my bike
(I have already prepared an envelope containing the rental money and a letter for Jesse and left it on my desk). Then I’m going to cycle over to Tyler’s house.

I know that the Reeds are going to be out because earlier that afternoon I overheard a conversation between Mike and Carrie which ended with Mike telling Carrie that he never wanted to see any
of her friends ever again because they were all snobs, and Republicans to boot. Carrie didn’t even try to defend them. She sighed and mentioned a cocktail party at the Harbour Club that
everyone was going to tonight, including the Reeds because they were sponsoring it or something. Mike told her she could go if she wanted but he’d rather stay in and watch infomercials
(another sigh from Carrie). And then Mike said something which caught my attention:

‘I hear they’re trying to buy Miller’s out from under him. Richard Reed makes revenge a full-time job. And frankly his daughter scares the shit out of me.’

‘She’s five, Mike,’ Carrie countered.

‘Well, she’s walked straight off of the set of
The Omen
.’

Carrie giggled and I tiptoed away, having heard all I wanted to. I mentioned the bit about Richard Reed trying to buy the bike shop in the letter I wrote to Jesse. I’m not sure what it
means but anything I can do to hijack their ambitions works for me.

I’m halfway down the stairs when the doorbell rings.

‘I’ll get it,’ I call out.

I pull open the door and Jesse Miller is standing there as if my imagination has summoned him in 3D and coloured him in perfectly. He’s out of breath, his dark hair windswept and his face
tanned from a day on the water. His eyes have dark shadows under them and he’s unshaven, but even so he takes my breath away. Quite literally. I have to hang on to the door for support.

‘You were looking for me?’ he says, his expression full of hope and caution, like a puppy that’s scared it’s about to be kicked.

I nod and step out onto the deck, pulling the door closed quietly behind me.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I wanted to see you before—’ I stop, unable to continue. I cannot kick this puppy.

‘Before what?’ he asks, suspicion suddenly clouding his eyes.

I take a deep breath. There’s a part of me that wishes he hadn’t come because this is making it so much harder and I’ve made a plan now and I’m risking being late.
‘I’m leaving tomorrow morning,’ I say finally.

I watch the colour drain from his face. ‘What?’

‘I’m going back to London.’

He shakes his head slowly. ‘You can’t—’ His voice catches. ‘You said a month.’

Why does it have to be this way? I hold on to the wooden post by the door and will myself not to move, even though my whole body is desperate to cross the distance between us and find out what
it feels like to be buried against his chest and what it feels like to kiss him.

I remind myself again that this is
his
choice. ‘I know I said a month but my mum’s worried about me,’ I say in a rush, unable to look at him in case I lose my nerve,
‘and she wants me to come home. She’s already changed my flight. I’m leaving first thing in the morning.’

There’s a silence and I look up. For a second Jesse stays staring at me as though he cannot believe what I’m saying, and then I see the look of disbelief fade. His expression hardens
and he seems resolved all of a sudden. Over what, though, I’m not sure. He moves so fast I have no time to react before I feel his hands either side of my face, and then his lips are against
mine and he’s kissing me. Just like that. I’m so shocked that at first I don’t even move, but then I come to my senses, am blasted back into them by the pressure of his lips. I
knot my hands through his hair and start kissing him back as though my life depends on it, as though he owns all the air in the universe and I need to kiss him just to stay alive.

And I swear to God, it’s the most incredible feeling I’ve ever experienced. I’m giddy drunk. My head is spinning. It’s like I’m made entirely out of helium and ice
and electrical current. Like I’m going to melt and float away and burst into flames all at the same time. His lips are warm and his stubble scrapes my cheek but I don’t care. It just
makes me want him more. His arms are ridiculously strong and he’s holding me close against his chest which is good because I’m not sure my legs contain bones any more.

It’s the most perfect kiss of my life and I know as soon as he pulls away and stares straight into my eyes with such unspoken desire and protectiveness that Megan is wrong and Disney was
right all along. There
is
such a thing as
THE ONE
. Hah!

Jesse pushes a strand of loose hair out of my eyes, tucking it behind one ear. He smiles at me – and it’s tinged with sadness. ‘If you’re only here until the morning I
want you all night,’ he says.

Definitely no bones. Anywhere in my body.

He looks suddenly pained. His arms fall away from my waist and I sway a little (no bones remember?). ‘I mean, not like that,’ he adds hurriedly, ‘I’m not Jeremy Thorne. I
just . . . I just want to hang out with you. I didn’t plan to come here and for that to happen . . . ’ He gives me a one-sided smile accompanied by a one-shouldered shrug. ‘I just
couldn’t let you go without knowing what it was like to kiss you,’ he says now. ‘I know I said I wouldn’t—’

‘No,’ I say, cutting him off, my voice equally hoarse. ‘I want to spend the night with you too.’ I am glad the blood is currently circulating in other regions so my
cheeks don’t flame iridescent like they otherwise might. I want to spend the night with Jesse Miller more than anything in the world, even if all we do is sit opposite each other in silence
and don’t touch (though, given the choice, I’d rather there was touching involved. And kissing). Jesse grins brightly at me then takes a step towards me. Desire almost overwhelms me but
I manage to dance back out of his arms. ‘The thing is, though,’ I say, swallowing, ‘I was just about to go out. I have to be somewhere.’