‘No.’
Mikey inhaled, exhaled. He knew it was up to him to say something else, but most girls would’ve laughed when he mentioned a boyfriend, would’ve been flattered. Now everything that came into his head sounded fake. He sat and smoked and tried to work out what to do next.
It was solved for him – her phone rang and she stood up to fish it out of her pocket. ‘Tom, yeah, I did text you,’ she said. ‘Because I couldn’t see you anywhere, that’s why. This is madness. Do you even know half these people?’ She glanced back at Mikey only briefly before walking off down the slope. When she got to the fence, she opened a gate he hadn’t even known was there and disappeared through it. Now what did he do?
Across the grass, Jacko was talking to some bloke in a suit and tie. He was taking his responsibilities seriously by the look of it – nodding and smiling, asking questions, gathering information. Mikey felt his throat tighten. That Jacko would do this for him when it wasn’t even his fight – it was like having a brother.
He stood up, determined. He was going to walk across the grass and go through that gate and make Tom Parker’s sister talk.
As he crossed the lawn, he realized how massive this garden was. Holly would love to live in a place like this – so big she could have her own frigging football pitch. Beyond the fence was the river, so that gate must be a private entrance to it. He imagined him and Holly running down this slope to their boat, jumping in whenever they wanted and getting the hell out of this town.
The lights from the party didn’t reach the river, but he could still see the girl through the gate. She was off the phone now, standing there gazing across the water. A train was moving slowly along the tracks on the other side of the river. Its lights splashed the grass at her feet, her face lit up for a second and then went dark again. He’d envy this party if he was on that train – the marquee, the music, the enormity of the place. Funny how things could seem better from far away.
Before he even got through the gate she said, ‘You shouldn’t sneak up on people in the dark.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘Yeah, you were.’
He shut the gate behind him. ‘What’s so interesting through here anyway?’
‘Nothing.’ She waved her hand at the water. ‘It’s a river. There was a train and now it’s gone.’ She turned to him. ‘As you can see, it’s totally fascinating.’
‘You should be careful,’ he said, ‘wandering about on your own.’
She didn’t even blink. ‘Is that supposed to be funny?’
Her eyes burned with something. Anger? Sadness? He had to look away. Karyn had eyes that deep. He swigged the last of his beer and chucked the empty bottle at the river. They both watched it – a dark missile, arcing against the sky before splashing into the water. Somewhere not far away, a duck called in alarm and then everything went quiet again.
Now what should he do? He wasn’t going to look at her again, that was for sure. He didn’t want to get to know her in that way, didn’t need bridges between them. He tried to remember the plan. He had to believe he’d come to this party for something. He was supposed to be getting information out of her, that was it. But before he could think of anything to ask, she nudged his arm and pointed across the water to the field beyond.
‘See the horses?’ she said. He hadn’t even noticed them – three of them beyond the railway line, marooned together under a tree. ‘Keep watching them. Watch by their feet.’
It made his eyes go funny to stare into the darkness. The field became dark blue and thunderous as he watched, although as he kept looking, the colours got less dense and the edge of his vision became ragged with grey. Then, from below the tree, a shadow moved, hesitated, moved again. A fox, low and sleek, stood exposed on the grass, one paw raised, before gathering itself and vanishing diagonally across the field.
‘See that?’ she said.
‘Yeah.’
She sighed, as if she was satisfied it existed now he’d seen it too. He glanced at her briefly, even though he’d told himself he wouldn’t. He noticed her scar again. She saw him looking, ran her tongue along it. ‘A dog bit me.’
‘Serious?’
She nodded. ‘I was on holiday and it came running out of the woods and jumped at my face. They thought it had rabies, but it didn’t.’
‘Rabies?’
‘We were in Kenya.’
The closest he’d got to Africa was Dex teaching him how to roast goat meat with garlic.
She peered at him. ‘Have you got any scars?’
Imagine she’s some girl in a pub, he thought, and make something up. It helped not to look. ‘I got shot once,’ he told her, ‘but it’s on my arse.’
She laughed for the first time and he felt ridiculously pleased with himself. ‘Some guy shot me five times at point blank range. You want to see?’
She shook her head, still smiling. ‘You were running away if he shot you in the arse. Which makes you a coward.’
Now that wasn’t an ordinary line – too quick‑witted. Again, he felt confused. He wondered about this girl. She wasn’t even drunk, not remotely, and there was loads of booze at the house. He decided to get back to the point.
‘Tell me about your brother,’ he said. ‘Tell me two things about him.’
‘I thought you knew him.’
‘He’s a friend of a friend really.’
She turned to him, frowning. ‘Why don’t we talk about you instead? Why don’t you tell me two things about yourself?’
If he had to give something away to get something back, then he would. ‘My special skills are cooking and kissing.’
She half smiled. ‘How do you know you’re good at them?’
‘I practise. What about you?’
‘I’ll swap cooking for swimming.’
‘And keep the other one?’
She looked at her feet, shy now. ‘Maybe.’
‘You like swimming? What’s your favourite stroke?’
‘Front crawl.’
He wanted to ask if she did competitions and stuff, if she’d ever won anything. He wanted to ask if she was genuinely good at kissing and did she want to prove it? But he wasn’t supposed to be chatting her up. He needed to concentrate and steer the conversation to something useful.
‘So, does your brother like swimming?’
She hesitated a moment too long. ‘I’d rather not talk about him, if that’s OK with you.’
Well, that shut him up.
He didn’t say anything else. Girls liked the sound of their own voices and she’d probably speak again in a minute. But he wasn’t going to. He wanted her to feel as stupid as he did.
While he waited, he looked at the way the river puckered in the breeze, dead leaves swirling on its surface. If he lived here, he’d be at this river all the time. He’d teach Holly stuff about it – the names of things and how to catch fish. He’d have to learn it himself first, of course, but that would be easy – he’d have a personal trainer, like people who joined a gym.
‘What are you thinking about?’
Her voice startled him. But this was a good question. It meant she fancied him. ‘I was thinking about you.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Serious. I think you’re gorgeous.’
She sighed. ‘Do you even want to have a proper conversation?’
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t, but he looked right at her again. ‘I was thinking about the river.’
‘What about it?’
‘I like the way it’s moving, how it never stops.’
She thought about that for a minute, then said, ‘Everything’s moving really. The forward momentum of the earth is sixty‑seven thousand miles an hour and the rotation is nearly two thousand miles an hour. We’re also spinning around the centre of the Milky Way at some rate I forget.’ She grinned at him. ‘I’ve been revising Physics. You probably think I’m a total geek.’
He shook his head. ‘Why don’t we feel it then?’
‘That we’re moving?’
‘Yeah. If we’re spinning about so fast, how come we’re not dizzy?’
‘Because our perspective doesn’t extend beyond our fixed surroundings.’
‘What?’
‘We only notice movement if it relates to what’s right in front of us. In a plane above the clouds you don’t notice speed because there’s nothing to compare it with, but on the ground as you take off, you can feel you’re going fast.’