“Everything,” said Evie.
“It’s a great spot.”
“Den I found a bit ago,” said Lawrence.
“Yes,” agreed the boy, making such a sincere kind of eye contact with Lawrence that he felt uncomfortable. It was like gazing into the eyes of those Jehovah’s Witnesses that had come to the door that time.
“How old are you?” the girl asked.
“Sixteen.”
“And still you’re calling it a den.”
Lawrence didn’t know what else you’d call it. Evie plunged a hand into her brown leather bag, the strap of which was slung over one shoulder.
“Seb,” she said. “Tell me you’ve got some.”
A pack of cigarettes sailed through the air and landed in her lap.
“Don’t call me Seb,” the boy said.
They both lit cigarettes.
“You know it suits you.”
“It’s not my name,” the boy explained to Lawrence, who could feel the spring warmth of this daydream on his neck.
“Duncan’s all wrong,” said Evie, “It’s too Scottish. Too matter of fact.”
“And Seb?” replied Duncan, shaking his head.
“Is way more you.”
Duncan began to smoke. He seemed to enjoy being talked about. By contrast, Lawrence felt conscious of his muddy uniform and bald head. It was that first encounter feeling: never making the impression that you wanted to make.
“There’s two things you should spend money on,” said Evie to Lawrence. “Beds and shoes. Because if you’re not in one you’re in the other.”
She nodded at his feet.
He tucked them beneath himself. “I expect you want me to say summat clever to that.”
“It might be nice.”
“Well I won’t dignify you.”
“I’ll dignify myself, thanks. Maybe we can start with something easier, if your filthy shoes have stumped you. What’s your name, Mr Den? Mr-I’m-not-in-school-when-I’m-supposed-to-be?”
Antwerp.
Lawrence almost said it, and realising this must have made his face change, because the girl seemed to think he was laughing with her.
“My name…” he said, trailing off.
Fucking tongue-tied again.
“Where have we moved to, Seb,” said Evie, “That the locals don’t even know their own names.”
Lawrence could feel an excruciating heat flushing up his neck. “Lawrence,” he said. “I’m Lawrence.”
“Duncan.” The boy pointed at himself.
“You said.”
“All right, clever clogs,” said Evie. “Why aren’t you in school?”
She had raggedy hair that somehow managed to shine: Lawrence had never seen hair like it. “I can’t be bothered with it, can I,” he said.
Evie grinned.
“I’m at the grammar,” Lawrence continued, sure his windpipe was thickening. “Top sets. Too many rules, though. Place is full of wankers.”
“And you live nearby?” Duncan asked.
“Kind of.”
“We’re on the edge of town.”
“Bleak fucking House,” said Evie.
“I suppose you mean Threndle,” Lawrence said.
“Place is practically derelict.”
Was that the trace of an apology in her voice?
Evie went on. “There’s like three rooms with things in them. The rest of our stuff’s in storage.”
“Still a mansion.”
Lawrence began to scuff a circle in the ground with his finger.
“It’s our Uncle Bram’s place,” said Duncan.
“He’s not our uncle, Seb.”
Duncan gazed coldly at his sister, then turned to Lawrence, “He hasn’t lived there for years. It was supposed to be renovated before we came, only the builders are local. They found out who Dad is and downed tools.” He rolled his eyes. “Honestly.”
“How come?” It was tiring having to ask questions you knew the answers to.
Evie began fashioning a triangle from the crisp packet. “You’re rather nosey, Lawrence.”
“Dad’s an MP,” Duncan said. “Or at least he’s trying to be. And not for the party of these parts.” He made a curious face, earnest yet somehow staged, as if he’d copied it from someone and was trying to perfect it. “What does your father do?”
“Oh… He’s a businessman.”
“Same as Clive,” said Evie.
“Dad’s not in business,” said Duncan.
“The business of numero uno,” Evie said, then to Duncan, “Oh, shut up.”
“Why do you call him Clive? You two not?”
“What?” Evie blew a smoke ring. She had a biggity look in her eye.
“Brother and sister?”
“What gives you that idea?”
“Dunno. You talk same,” said Lawrence. “Hold yourselves same. Open like.”
“Errrpen,” Evie mimicked. “What’s errrpen?”
“Just similar.” Lawrence blushed for the second time. “I thought—”
“For your information Seb and I met on holiday and now I’ve come to live with him. He’s a serious fuck.”
“Serious?”
“Oh, yes. He likes to take me from behind. You like doing it from behind, don’t you, Seb?”
“You think you’re so hilarious,” said Duncan.
“No, I don’t…” Lawrence began, anxious not to lose ground.
“Nerrr,” Evie went.
“I’m talking to her,” said Duncan. “We’re brother and sister. The only way I’d put up with her is if I had no choice.”
“Right. Sorry. I knew it… like I were saying, I guessed, but you can never be sure when you’ve just met someone, can you,” said Lawrence. “If they’re who they seem to be.”
“And not just when you’ve first met them,” agreed Evie, placing her hand on Lawrence’s knee. “I still don’t know who my parents are and I’ve known them my whole life.”
Lawrence was elated. He was not someone girls spoke to. He was not someone girls touched.
“I know the feeling,” he said.
Evie removed her hand. The way she lit her cigarette, flame angling as she sucked, made Lawrence’s toes curl.
Duncan stood up and patrolled the bunting line. “So what do you think of our improvements?”
“They’re brill,” Lawrence lied.
“Took us a long weekend. We’ve a lot of those at the moment.”
“How come? I mean why’s that?” Lawrence glanced at Evie, who’d covered her face with her novel and was lying flat on the blanket.
“Well Evie pretty much just has her exams, and I haven’t enrolled anywhere yet. Dad says I’ll be off to the West Ridings come September, if things don’t go to plan. Or back in London if they do. Till then we’re to be home-tutored.”
Evie blew a raspberry under her book.
“Suppose it’s nearly summer. End of school,” Lawrence said. “Would be daft starting somewhere just to leave.”
“And let’s face it,” said Evie, “Clive wouldn’t send his darlings to any of the schools around here.”
“Why, what’s up with them?”
“What’s oop wi’ ’em?”
Lawrence got to his feet. “Here, I know what I sound like, reight. But I’m not the one, it’s you who’s the new ones. You who sound weird.”
“Jesus, I only meant our dad wouldn’t just send us anywhere,” said Evie.
“This isn’t anywhere.”
“Lawrence, that’s exactly what it is.”
It was funny. Although he was himself allowed to criticise where he came from, the moment someone else cast aspersions upon Litten, Lawrence’s hackles rose.
“Oh, darling. Have I offended you?”
“Would it bother you if you had?”