He eyes me with a mixture of uncertainty and surprise. ‘You want me to come too?’
‘Yes please.’
‘I could just give you my pass,’ he points out.
‘But then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of your company.’
The flush rises again, but the corner of his mouth pulls upwards. ‘Mum said something about popping home today to pick up some clothes—’
‘I wasn’t thinking of going home.’
‘You want to walk the streets till three thirty? I haven’t got any money on me.’
‘No. I want to take you somewhere.’
‘Where?’
‘It’s a surprise. Not far.’
I can see his curiosity is roused. ‘O-OK—’
‘Great. Go get your stuff. I’ll meet you by the main entrance.’
I disappear back down into the playground before he has time to start worrying again and change his mind.
Lochan takes an age. By the time he arrives, break is almost over and I fear he’ll be questioned for leaving the building just before the bell. But the security guard barely glances at his pass as I slip unnoticed ahead of him through the glass doors.
Out on the street, Lochan turns up his jacket collar against the cold and asks, ‘Now are you going to tell me what all this is about?’
I smile and shrug. ‘It’s about having an afternoon off.’
‘We should have planned this. I’ve only got fifty pence on me.’
‘I’m not asking you to take me to the Ritz! We’re just going to the park.’
‘The park?’ He looks at me as if I’m crazy.
Ashmoore on a weekday in the middle of winter is predictably empty. The trees are mostly bare, their long spiked branches silhouetted against the pale sky, the large expanses of grass splashed with silver patches of ice. We follow the wide central path towards the wooded area on the far side, the hum of the city gradually fading behind us. A few damp benches dot the empty landscape, abandoned and redundant. In the distance, an old man is throwing sticks for his dog, the animal’s sharp yaps breaking the still air. The park feels vast and desolate: a cold, forgotten island in the middle of a big city. Curled sandpaper leaves skim across the path, carried by a whisper of wind. A scatter of pigeons dart excitedly around some crumbs, their heads bobbing up and down, pecking feverishly at the ground. As we approach the trees, squirrels dash out boldly in front of us, turning their heads this way and that to eye us with shiny big black beads, hoping for signs of food. High above us in an anaemic sky, the white orb of the sun, like a giant spotlight, fixes the park with its hard wintry rays. We abandon the path and enter the small wood, dried foliage and twigs crackling and crunching against the frozen earth beneath our feet. The uneven ground slopes gently downwards.
Lochan follows me silently. Neither of us have spoken since entering the park gates and abandoning the world behind us, as if we are trying to leave our daily selves behind in the noisy hubbub of dirty streets and jostling traffic. As the trees begin to thicken around us, I duck beneath a fallen log and then stop and smile. ‘This is it.’
We are standing in a small hollow. The shallow dip in the ground is carpeted with leaves and surrounded by a few remaining green ferns and winter shrubs, enclosed in a circle of bare trees. The ground beneath us is a tapestry of russet and gold. Even in the depths of winter, my little piece of paradise is still beautiful.
Lochan looks around in bewilderment. ‘Are we here to bury a body or dig one up?’
I give him a long-suffering look, but just then a sudden gust of wind causes the branches overhead to sway, scattering the sun’s icy rays like shards of glass into my corral, making it feel magical, mysterious.
‘This is where I come when things get too much at home. When I want to be alone for a while,’ I tell him.
He looks at me in astonishment. ‘You come here by yourself?’ He blinks in bewilderment, hands dug deep into his jacket pockets, still gazing around. ‘Why?’
‘Because when Mum starts drinking at ten o’clock in the morning, when Tiffin and Willa are tearing around the house screaming, when Kit is trying to pick a row with everyone who crosses his path, when I wish I didn’t have a family to look after, this place gives me peace. It gives me hope. In summer it’s lovely here. It silences the roar that’s constantly in my head . . .
‘Maybe, from time to time, this could be your place too,’ I suggest quietly. ‘Everyone needs time off, Lochan. Even you.’
He nods again, still looking around, as if trying to imagine me here by myself. Then he turns back to me, the collar of his black jacket flapping against his untucked white shirt, tie loosened, the bottoms of his grey trousers muddied by the soft earth. His cheeks are pink from the long cold walk, hair tousled by the wind. However, we are sheltered here, the sun warm on our faces. A sudden flurry of birds alight on the topmost branch of a tree, and as he raises his head, the light is reflected in his eyes, turning them translucent, the colour of green glass.
His gaze meets mine. ‘Thanks,’ he says.
We sit down in my grassy enclave and huddle together for warmth. Lochan wraps his arm around me and pulls me towards him, kissing the top of my head.
‘I love you, Maya Whitely,’ he says softly.
I smile and tilt my face to look up at him. ‘How much?’
He doesn’t answer, but I hear his breathing quicken: he lowers his mouth over mine and a strange hum fills the air.
We kiss for a long time, sliding our hands in between layers of clothing and absorbing each other’s heat until I am warm, hot even, my heart thumping hard, a sparkling, tingling feeling rushing through my veins. Birds continue to peck at the earth around us, somewhere in the distance a child’s whoop breaks the air. Here, we are truly alone. Truly free. If anyone happened to walk by, all they would see is a girl and her boyfriend kissing. I feel the pressure of Lochan’s lips strengthen as if he too realizes how priceless this little moment of freedom is. His hand slides beneath my school shirt and I press my hand up against his thigh.
Then, abruptly, he is pulling back, turning away, breathing hard. I look round in surprise, but only the trees surround us like silent witnesses, unchanged and unmoved and undisturbed. Beside me, Lochan sits with arms circling his drawn-up knees, face turned away. ‘Sorry . . .’ He gives a small, embarrassed laugh.
‘About what?’
His breathing is fast and shallow. ‘I needed to stop.’
Something tightens in my throat. ‘But that’s fine, Lochie. You don’t have to apologize.’
He doesn’t respond. There is something about his stillness that disturbs me.
I move over so that I’m pressed close to him and give him a gentle nudge. ‘Shall we go for a wander?’
He tilts away from me slightly. Raises a shoulder without turning. Doesn’t reply.
‘You OK?’ I ask lightly.
He gives a brief nod.
A flutter of worry rises in my chest. I stroke the back of his head. ‘You sure?’
No reply.
‘Perhaps we should set up camp here, away from the rest of the world,’ I tease, but he doesn’t respond. ‘I just thought it would be nice to have some time alone, just the two of us,’ I say softly. ‘Was it – was coming here a mistake?’
‘No!’
I cover his hand with mine and stroke the back of it with my thumb. ‘What then?’
‘Just—’ His voice quavers. ‘I’m afraid that all this will one day be nothing more than a distant memory.’
I swallow hard. ‘Don’t say that, Lochie. It doesn’t have to be.’
‘But us – this – it won’t last. It won’t, Maya, we both know that. At some point we’ll have to stop—’ He breaks off suddenly and holds his breath, shaking his head wordlessly.
‘Lochie, of course it’s going to last!’ I exclaim, aghast. ‘They can’t stop us. I won’t let anyone stop us . . .’
He takes my hand in his, starts to kiss it, his lips soft and warm. ‘But it’s the whole world,’ he says, his voice an anguished whisper. ‘How – how can we make it against the whole world?’