How I Wonder What You Are Read online

  Maybe there was still a residue of the man he had been lurking under the accident-prone surface, maybe a trace of the charisma still sparked now and again. There was certainly something.

  Which was nice for my libido, and the rest of me didn’t care.

  I wrote a quick email to Mike, included the link to the YouTube clip, and pressed ‘send’ before I could change my mind or start analysing anything. Phinn could write articles for Mike, course he could. Nothing to do with me, I was merely the agent. Then I made myself a mug of coffee and sat down on the sofa, legs tucked up under me and the remaining custard creams close to hand, to carry on reading Caro’s father’s local folklore book. I’d just found out that the farm had once held a Screaming Skull that had vanished unexpectedly and I wondered if anyone had connected it to Howe End’s Moaner. But even Phinn would have mentioned a skull kicking around one of those dusty rooms, wouldn’t he?

  The phone rang. Caller display showed my mother’s mobile. I ignored it, and it rang out, leaving my palms sticky and my jaw aching.

  ‘Knock knock, are you in?’ The front door creaked as Caro came into the hall.

  ‘In here. Reading.’ I steadied my voice and wiped my hands down my thighs.

  ‘Ooh. I just dropped by to ask if you wanted anything from town. I’m off into York in a bit to buy a new rug for Stan. So, can I get you anything?’

  I laid the book down on the adjacent cushion. ‘Look, we both know you came over to find out how last night went, with a possible side-order of where was I off to this morning with a car that sounded like the coming of the undead.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. So? Come on, spill.’ Caro picked up my mug from the sofa arm, sat down on the chair opposite me and kicked her boots off into a distant corner. ‘You were seen heading out of the pub off to parts unknown with the gorgeous scientist – at a run, I may add.’ She sipped from my cup, pulled a face at the lack of sugar, then carried on drinking, watching me from under her eyebrows as she did so.

  ‘We were investigating something.’

  ‘Then I hope you had your good underwear on. Jeez, this is horrible coffee. Right, so you’ve, ahem, investigated, what’s the next step? If it’s a threesome with that well-built blond lad then I want you to take notes, do you hear?’

  I stayed quiet, knowing this was just Caro’s way of trying to get information out of me. If I refused to confirm or deny she’d be forced to take another tack. Which she did. ‘Is that Dad’s book?’ She leaned forward and slid the little paperback from my hands. ‘Are you enjoying it?’

  ‘It’s a bit of a hotchpotch, but some of it’s quite interesting.’

  ‘There’s apparently something in here about how he and Mum got together. I used to ask him about it and he told me that the secret was in the book, but I never found it. But then, Dad wasn’t exactly Dan Brown in the edge-of-the-seat stakes, and my eyes used to glaze over about four pages in.’

  ‘I look forward to reading about it then.’ I held my hand out for the return of the book. Caro stared at the print for a few moments then passed it back.

  ‘You are no fun, do you know that?’

  ‘Apparently not.’ I watched her stand up. ‘Oh, Caro, by the way, have you got any wire up at the house? Something I can use to fix the exhaust on the Micra?’

  She looked down at me and her face flickered with something that could have been sympathy. ‘Since when did you become little Miss Handy? Moll, you barely know the front from the back of a car, and now you’re bandying about terms like “exhaust”. You know that’s the really hot pipe underneath, don’t you?’

  I shrugged. ‘It needs doing.’

  Her expression reached her eyes and they softened to something even gentler. ‘You really can’t fix an exhaust for long with wire. It needs to go to the garage.’

  I gave a long blink. She was right. I wasn’t the most practical person on earth, I’d never really had to be. One of the advantages of dating men who drove fancy cars and had loads of disposable income had been their desire to do the ‘manly’ thing and sort out any functional problems that arose for me. I’d only had to flutter my eyelashes and mention that odd noise my car was making and it had been taken care of.

  Maybe Caro was right, maybe it was more of a ‘father fixation’. Maybe I really hadn’t wanted to grow up.

  ‘It’ll have to do until Mike pays me for the Halloween contribution.’

  Caro smiled an awkward smile. ‘If things are tight I could … maybe … just sort of wait for the rent?’

  I took a deep breath, tempted. Grow up, Molly. You’ve discovered that you can find men your own age attractive, perhaps that’s your brain telling you it’s time to cut loose from the person you used to be. ‘Thanks, Caro, but I can manage. It’s not even as if I use the car that often anyway, it’ll wait.’

  ‘If you say so. Just remember that you’re going to look a proper berk trying to get back from Morrisons with a week’s worth of shopping on Stan, apropos of which, are you sure there’s nothing you want from York?’

  ‘You mean am I sure I’m not going to suddenly break down and tell you all about Doctor Baxter and his action in the sack? About which, incidentally, I have no idea?’

  Caro’s face softened again. ‘I’m sorry, Moll. I’m beginning to sound a bit motherish, aren’t I? It’s only because I care, you know that.’

  ‘The words “mother” and “care” should not be used in the same sentence where I’m concerned.’ My fingers had closed so tightly on the cover of the book that it made a squeaking sound. ‘Trust me.’

  She shrugged. ‘Well, you’re probably the nearest I’m ever going to get to kids, so forgive me for coming over all parental.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, you’re only ten years older than I am!’

  ‘I didn’t mean … ’ Caro sat down again. ‘I care about you, Molly. All this refusal to speak to your family and stuff, it hurts me, you know. Seeing you … well.’ She leaned forwards so that I couldn’t see her face. ‘I miss having someone who’s known all my nightmares, people who remember my first show, first rosette, first broken leg … It’s true, you know, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. My parents have gone, but you’ve still got your mum and I don’t think you realise how much she means to you. I just feel you should, maybe, put things behind you a bit and try …’ She twiddled her socked toes on the carpet.

  Caro had loved her mum and dad. She’d had a happy family upbringing, all ponies and puppies and Christmas concerts. She just didn’t realise it hadn’t been like that for all of us, but I couldn’t say that without getting into territory that hurt

  ‘I’m sorry. Honestly. Oh, and by the way, I’m not going to tidy my room and I shall stay out as late as I want. So there.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’ Caro hunted down her boots and took them out into the hall to pull them back on. ‘But you will tell me if you find any interesting stories in the book, won’t you?’

  I got up and followed her, finding her sitting at the bottom of the stairs yanking at the boots. This change of mood was something we were both working hard to keep going. It felt as though the depth of the previous conversation had scared us both a bit. ‘You seriously never read your own father’s book, Caro?’

  ‘He wrote it when I was fifteen! You show me a fifteen-year-old girl who’d rather read stories about hobgoblins and mysterious white hares than about Jason Donovan and Bryan Adams!’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Shut up, child.’ With a final savage tug she got her second foot into its tight leather casing and stood up. ‘There’s no need to rub it in. Who were you reading about in your teenage years then? Take That? Right, see you later then.’

  As she left I went back to my seat on the sofa. I’d been a bit shaken by her revelation that she wanted children – I’d got used to Caro as a repository for my angst, finding out she had angst of her own was slightly startling. It felt like a step forward into a different kind of friendship, maybe something deeper. More enduring?
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  I ate another custard cream and tried to put my thoughts in order. Caro. Pushing our friendship forward as though she’d had inside information that I was staying. Phinn. Who hadn’t shown any desire to push any kind of relationship further than we’d already managed to limp. So why the hell did I keep getting these flashbacks to tiny things he said or did? Why did my mind feel the need to linger over little details like the persistent line of stubble along his jaw, or the weight of his hand when he’d held mine to help me barefoot through the mud? Was he something to do with the reason I was starting to think of some kind of a future?

  Behind me the telephone rang. Again, the familiar number that I associated with postponed meals and broken promises. This time, in my spirit of ‘starting anew’, I picked up the receiver. I didn’t speak, but my mother’s voice rang out around the room. ‘Molly, I really need to see you, to talk—’

  ‘No.’

  ‘This is important.’

  ‘So was what you did. It was important to me. You might just think all you have to do is explain, be all practical, and everything will be all right, well it won’t. Never. Things will never be all right again as far as you are concerned. So please stop phoning me and trying to justify yourself to me, Mother.’ And I slammed the phone down again, my mouth drying and my vision breaking so that the room looked like a badly done jigsaw. As though she could see me down the line I flattened myself against the wall, heart beating so hard that it made my head thump against the plaster with each pulse. The cord hung from my fingers and I found that I was winding it around my hands so that the plastic wire cut through my skin and beads of blood burst onto my palm.

  Why did I answer? Now she’ll think I’m talking to her again, that all she has to do is to keep trying, keep phoning and eventually I’ll give in and we’ll be back where we were. When I know that we were never in a good place to start with.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘All right, git-features. What have you done now?’

  Phinn looked up. Link was lurking over him, rolling himself a cigarette and pretending not to be staring into the bag. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Packing.’ A hand, trailing wisps of tobacco, waved at the holdall. ‘You cutting and running on me again, man? Because I am a guy of limited patience these days.’ His lighter flared into life and he lit the tube, sucking smoke into his lungs with every evidence of enjoyment.

  ‘Oh, this? No, this is just a few bits and pieces, camera, video, gear like that. Molly and I … well, we thought we might try to intercept the lights.’ Phinn saw Link’s eyebrows raise and his heart jumped with a quick moment of guilty pleasure. ‘We’re going to watch tonight, and if they come, well, we’re heading up onto the moors to try to get a fix on them.’

  The eyebrows stayed up. ‘You are one slick mover, my friend.’ A hand clapped Phinn on the shoulder and a small heap of hot ash sprinkled the back of his neck. ‘She is a cutey. Fantastic arse on her too. Ask her if she’s got any sisters, would you? Hot ones, obviously, I don’t want to know if she’s got some humpster in the family tree.’

  ‘Link, you aren’t just a prat, you’re a sexist prat.’ Phinn slid the battery unit under a rolled up blanket for security and tucked it into a corner of the bag. ‘Molly and I are trying to find out what the hell the deal is with these mysterious lights, the ones that you say you can’t see. That’s all. No romance, no sweaty nights of passion, no condom-related panics, okay? Whatever your fevered little brain might be coming up with, it’s wrong. Some of us can see a woman without being seized by the urge to drag her into a dark corner – it’s called “evolution”.’

  ‘Woah.’ Link puffed a bubble of smoke and watched it scribble away into the air. ‘That’s a whole load of words just to say she doesn’t fancy you.’

  ‘She …’ Phinn saw the slow smile arrive on his friend’s face and dropped his head so that his face was hidden behind his hair. ‘How did you enjoy your horse-adventure?’

  ‘Cool. Nice to be aboard again.’ Link sat lengthways on the window seat, his feet braced against the opposite wall. ‘And that Caro is hotter than a mince pie on Christmas morning, know what I mean?’

  Phinn leaned back on his heels and looked at his friend. He and Link had known each other – how long now? Since their parents had dumped them together in that not-quite top echelon pre-prep school aged … God, four? That meant – he did a quick calculation in his head – that they’d been friends for twenty-eight years. A whole generation. Moving to prep school, then on to that ghastly private place where Link had managed to get the whole fourth form expelled and it had only been the fact that the school had been so keen to have Phinn on their roll that got them all readmitted.

  Link glanced across. ‘What the hell are you smirking at?’

  ‘Just remembering. Us as kids. That thing with the headmaster’s Range Rover and the donkey.’

  ‘Gods, you on some kind of nostalgia kick?’ Link swung his legs around so that he was sitting upright. ‘What made you think of that?’

  Phinn shook his head. Link had been in his life so long that he couldn’t remember a time before they’d been friends. Or rather, he could, but it was part of that whole barren wasteland of memories that attached to anything concerning his parents; he’d shut that all out a long time ago. ‘Just, you know. Wondering why the hell you left everything to come looking for me up here?’ And what I’d do without you …

  The question had haunted his mind for days now, ever since Link had turned up in this kitchen to hand him the kettle and scare him into a new set of underpants. He really, really hoped that there wasn’t going to turn out to be some underlying homoerotic thing that he hadn’t picked up on, the fear that Link would declare undying love for him was the only thing that had stopped him asking so far.

  ‘Oh, really?’ Link leaned forward, elbows on knees and smoke trailing from the inadequate roll-up. ‘You didn’t think that, oh, I don’t know, maybe I might be worried or something?’

  Phinn blinked. ‘Worried? Why? What about?’

  ‘You stupid bastard.’ It was said mildly, but the emotion was on Link’s face, not in his words. Phinn saw it, registered it like a punch to the lungs. ‘I see it as my mission in life to get you sorted before I can rest.’ Link sprawled back against the wall, feet and legs forming a triangle. ‘Anyhow, without me you’d still be wrapping yourself in newspaper and lighting matches to read by.’ He waved at the Arctic-quality sleeping bag Phinn was sitting on. ‘You’re not the most practical guy on the planet, admit it.’

  ‘I can’t help who I am, Link.’ I tried, for Suze I tried, but … I couldn’t even do that, couldn’t even pretend.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, gotcha on that, but …’ Link secured the cigarette between his lips and dug a hand into a pocket. ‘Look, man. I want to see you out there again. Like you used to be, okay, no, you’re not exactly the one-night-stand king, but, hey.’ He shook his head. ‘You used to be fun, or, maybe not fun but you used to talk to people.’ Out of the pocket came a tiny foil packet, like a very small condom.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ Phinn had his suspicions but, knowing Link, it could be anything from heavy-duty mood changers to the flavouring from a Pot Noodle. Why am I even listening to this?

  Link shook his head, dismissive. ‘A touch of mood enhancer, kick of self-confidence, squeeze of front-it-out. Oh and a pinch of Viagra. Just a little helper.’

  Phinn stared at the tiny package. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said, and even to himself his voice lacked conviction. ‘I’m not going to start doing drugs just to be able to do what you seem to manage to pull off so effortlessly, which is being a dickhead, by the way.’

  ‘Hey, man, no harm in keeping it in your pocket, though, eh?’ Link pushed the metallic square into Phinn’s jacket and patted it into place. ‘You never need it, all well and good. But if you find yourself needing a little bit extra … well, this’ll give you a touch of the Tarzan’s when you want it most. Suze was right about a lot of things, y’kn
ow. You exist in your own little bubble, your thoughts, your feelings, and no one else’s even crawl into your consideration, do they? By the way, heading back to the main topic of today’s conversation … I was scared for you, man. The anti-D’s, the booze, the whole not-sleeping-walking-the-streets thing? And then when I came over to the flat and there’s just a bunch of students living there, who said that you’d let them have the place rent-free, just packed up and gone? What did you think I’d do, shrug and wait for a postcard?’ He shook his head.

  There was a creeping cold in his soul. Phinn felt it settling at the edges, freezing off, shutting everything down. ‘I didn’t realise,’ he said stiffly. Knew the words were inadequate but what could he say? What could he do? He tried for a smile. ‘Sorry, Link. I’m glad you’re here, really. But you don’t have to worry about me, I’m okay now. Better, anyway. You could go back.’

  ‘What, and miss the next instalment?’ Now the smoke followed the grin and formed a Cheshire Cat smile in the air. ‘You are better than the telly, man.’

  Phinn shook his head and concentrated on the holdall, checking the contents. ‘But what about your love life? Aren’t you after a bit of action? I haven’t seen you without a woman attached to some part of your anatomy since you were about sixteen. Or are you still in hiding?’

  Keep it steady, Phinn. Don’t let him know what he’s said … Don’t let him know that he’s finally confirmed your greatest fear.

  Link shrugged. ‘I’m giving the old man a bit of a rest before I start my onslaught on the female masses again. Don’t want him worn out before his time.’ He patted his groin affectionately. ‘Moll’s friend Caro in action on a horse, phwoar, I’m hoping that translates to humans. And round here they’re not exactly spoiled for choice in the male market, I’ve seen the local blokes. Like shooting fish in a barrel, mate.’