Still Falling Page 13

Then it’s time for what Dad calls the bun fight. My appetite has diminished since all the trouble, but there’s something about caramel squares and cupcakes that makes them very easy to eat. Ruth squeals when she sees my gingerbread men, and introduces me to a boy called Ben. He’s shy, and a bit weedy, but he tells me how much he loves our church and what great work Adam does. He has green eyes, proper green eyes, large and strangely beautiful. If I had met him before Luke I can imagine liking him quite a bit.

  Ruth brings me a glass of Schloer and I tell her she was brilliant. She giggles. ‘I was so nervous.’ She glances over her shoulder. ‘So?’ she says.

  ‘So what?’

  ‘Ben. Isn’t he lovely? I knew you’d like him. I’ve told him all about you.’

  ‘He seems nice.’

  She waits. ‘And?’

  ‘And I have a boyfriend, in case you’d forgotten.’

  Ruth plays with one of her red ringlets. ‘I thought – I wondered if maybe you weren’t still…’

  I wonder what my parents have said to her parents.

  ‘Well, we are still.’

  _____________

  Dad taking me to school is a nuisance. I only get in in time for tutor group, and Luke – and Jasmine – are always there before me. At least he’s not talking to her today; he’s at his desk, reading.

  Jasmine smiles at me as I’m putting my bag down. ‘Like the hair,’ she says.

  I don’t know if she’s being sarky or sincere, as all I’ve done is put it in a ponytail, so I just smile back at her.

  ‘Test?’ I ask, sliding into the place beside Luke.

  He nods. ‘Thought I’d get out of it, being off, but she gave it to me to do over the weekend. I’m just checking over it.’

  I squint at the pages of Luke’s neat writing. ‘Looks boring.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘So – is that what you were up to all weekend?’ Apart from texting and Skyping me from a bedroom that looked so freakishly tidy I wondered if he’d cleaned it up for the occasion.

  ‘Pretty much. I had two days of notes to copy up.’

  ‘So you might as well have been grounded too?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ He frowns at the notes, and then smiles. ‘Missed you.’

  ‘They let me go to this thing in the church last night. Brought me to the door, and Ruth’s dad left me home.’ With me and Ruth hardly talking the whole way.

  ‘Sounds wild. You aren’t going to go all holy on me, are you?’

  Before I can say anything, Toby comes up and says, ‘It was a nightmare; I reckon we’ve all failed,’ and Luke says, ‘I certainly have,’ and then Baxter comes in and the school day takes over and whirls us away from each other.

  _____________

  ‘I can’t believe you’re invited to Jasmine’s party.’ Because it’s Toby it doesn’t sound mean.

  It doesn’t seem such a big deal to me now, except that it’s on the first day of my release from being grounded, so it becomes the night that’s going to make up for my disastrous birthday.

  Everything has to be perfect. I have five days. I persuade Dad to drop me off at the chemist’s on the main road on the way home from school – and even he knows I’m not going to be meeting Luke in a chemist’s shop – and I stock up on face packs and lipstick and bendy things that are meant to make your hair curl.

  The trouble is what to wear. My jade dress was the most beautiful, perfect dress there’s ever been, and there won’t be another, even if I had the money. I saw it on the washing line, so I know Mum must have washed it, but I couldn’t bear to go and examine it closely, so it’s languished in the ironing basket ever since. As soon as I get in from the chemist’s – shouting a loud, ‘I’m back!’ so they both know they can trust me – I make myself go to the utility room and rummage in the ironing basket. I pull it out, the soft jade fabric all twisted and rumpled. It looks fine – but that’s the back, with the label sticking out at the neck. I hardly dare to look at the front. Puke and red wine – even separately they’re bound to stain horribly, but together – it must be lethal. There’s no point …

  The front of the dress is fine. Those horrible streaks have gone. I take it to the window, hold it up to the light, but the jade fabric just shines with a lovely dull unblemished sheen. Thank you God, I breathe – some habits are hard to break. I take out the ironing board and plug in the iron. And on a whim, because sucking up does seem to be working, after I’ve ironed the dress I tackle the rest of the stuff in the basket too – three of Dad’s shirts; a couple of voluminous skirts of Mum’s; my spare school cardigan. I quite like ironing: the clean steamy smell of it, the weight of the iron making everything smooth and perfect.

  Mum comes in just as I’m finishing off a very large and ugly blouse.

  ‘Goodness, what’s got into you?’

  ‘I ironed my dress for the party.’

  I don’t want to dwell on either of these things too much, but Mum looks closely at the dress, hanging on its hanger from the jamb of the back door.

  ‘It’s come up good as new, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Um, yes.’ It suddenly strikes me that never mind thanking God, it was Mum who’d saved my dress. ‘Mum – thanks for doing that. It can’t have been – um – very pleasant.’

  ‘Oh, well. When you have children …’

  ‘It won’t happen again.’ I busy myself folding a tee-shirt to hide my embarrassment.

  Mum reaches behind me and switches off the iron at the wall. ‘Esther – we don’t mean to be unreasonable about Luke.’

  I chew my lip.

  ‘We’re just concerned because Luke’s background is so – well, different from what you’re used to. Growing up in care. It’s not –’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d be so prejudiced.’

  ‘I think …’ She takes Dad’s shirts and lays them carefully over her arm. ‘Luke deserves credit for doing so well. But… I didn’t like the way he reacted when we came into your room that night. So – violently.’

  ‘Mum,’ I say, ‘he didn’t even know what was going on. Dad startled him. You know what people can be like after a seizure.’ She’s been bitten and punched enough times by some of the kids in her class. ‘Luke’s really caring. You should see him with Lauren – this wee girl with epilepsy that we’re kind of buddying. He’s so –’

  ‘You didn’t see his face like I did.’ Mum isn’t going to be distracted by my tales of Luke’s good works. ‘You were too … anyway. He looked like he really wanted to hurt Dad. Totally out of control. I just want you to be careful.’

  ‘I am careful.’

  ‘I mean it, Esther. You’ve always been so sensible.’ She starts towards the door and turns back just as she reaches it. ‘Don’t let yourself get carried away.’

  Esther

  I accept a glass of champagne from Jasmine’s very solemn little sister Poppy and her giggling friend. They’re being waitresses.

  ‘For half an hour,’ Jasmine says, ‘and then they are going to bed and not showing their faces again.’

  ‘Ruby’s having a sleepover with me,’ Poppy says, showing gappy teeth in a big smile. ‘We’re having pizza.’

  ‘We’re going to sit on the stairs and watch all the snogging.’ Ruby covers her mouth with her small plump hands.

  ‘You so aren’t,’ Jasmine says.

  I wonder where their parents are. There are two BMWs in the driveway, but the house, a huge modern Grand Designs kind of thing perched on a hill overlooking Belfast Lough, is big enough to conceal any number of parents keeping a discreet eye on things.

  Mortifyingly I was first to arrive; Dad insisted on giving me a lift, and Jasmine, coming out to hang balloons on the gate – ‘They’re ironic balloons, obviously’ – saw me hanging nervously around the gate and made me come in.

  Now we stand around the huge white-painted hall, being all nicey-nicey and checking each other out – Jasmine’s wearing a tight midnight-blue shift dress with a deep V-neck. I sip my champagne out of shee
r nervousness, and it’s much nicer than red wine, which I will never drink again.

  Then Cassie arrives, hugs Jasmine and whispers something in her ear, then stands close to her, as if to protect her from me. When Ruby thrusts a glass at her she shudders.

  ‘Do you know how many calories are in that?’ She grimaces at the bubbling pale liquid in my glass as if it’s at least fifty per cent lard, and then at my stomach as if she can see me expanding as I drink.

  But she can’t; the jade dress is even more flattering than it was a fortnight ago. I catch sight of myself in the full-length mirror that takes up one whole wall. The bendy things worked, and my hair looks shorter than usual but fuller too in loose curls.

  The twins come in, Zara in dark pink, Zoë in light, carrying a huge (pink) bouquet for Jasmine. Jasmine kisses their cheeks and exclaims at the flowers, calling for Poppy to come and put them somewhere safe.

  ‘Jas gets hay fever, you know,’ Cassie says to the twins, who turn to me and shrug, rolling their eyes.

  And then lots of people pile in, glittery and loud. Some from school; some from God knows where. I try to speak to people; I want to look happy and integrated and relaxed when Luke arrives, even though I feel hollowed out with nerves. The rugby team arrive together. They seem to have won some match or other. Every so often one of them shouts out, ‘Fifteen–three!’ and they all high-five. One has a black eye he’s clearly very proud of.

  ‘Your dress is pretty,’ says Poppy, who seems to have abandoned her waitressing duties.

  ‘Thanks.’

  I reach down and smile at its soft dull sheen. Luke must be on his way. Bill’s giving him a lift. It was easier, logistically, to meet here. I hope he gets here soon. We’ve waited too long for this evening to miss a moment of it.

  ‘Jasmine got a car for her birthday. I only got an iPad.’ She gives her gappy grin again and I can see Jasmine at the same age, the ice-skating pony party days. ‘Have you got a boyfriend?’

  ‘Yes. He’s coming soon.’

  ‘Do you love him? Do you kiss him?’ She giggles.

  ‘Yes and yes.’ I’m not sure, and not very often, actually.

  Poppy nods. ‘Ruby says when she gets a boyfriend he’s not allowed to kiss her, just hold hands, only he has to use hand sanitiser first because Ruby has two brothers and she says you wouldn’t believe where they put their hands.’

  ‘Has Jasmine – has she got a boyfriend at the minute?’

  Poppy looks wise. ‘Well, she never tells me, but I think she’s working on someone. She was going out with Simon – the one with the black eye? But she dumped him because – oh, well, I’m not meant to know why so probably I’d better not actually say – but that was yonks ago. Like weeks. So it’s definitely time for a new one.’

  ‘Poppy – you’re not meant to still be here.’ Jasmine swoops down and grabs Poppy’s arm. ‘Go on – Ana has your pizzas ready for you. And Coke. But you have to go upstairs now and not come back down.’

  Poppy trudges upstairs, her plaits drooping.

  ‘No Luke yet?’ Jasmine says his name casually, but her eyes glitter harder than usual. She isn’t drunk, but she seems jittery.

  And then suddenly Luke’s here. He puts his arms round me from behind and pulls me to him, and the unexpected contact, the clean smell of him, is so delicious that I swing round and hug him fiercely and find his mouth with mine. He tastes of chewing gum.

  We break apart and I let my breath out in a slow hiss. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘I know. You look amazing.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So do you.’ He’s wearing black jeans and a jacket I’ve never seen before. His hair looks blonder than usual in the light from the industrial-style chandelier.

  The rugby players are playing a drinking game which involves a lot of chanting. Cassie and Jasmine are talking on the stairs to some boys I don’t recognise. Jasmine gives one of them a play punch on the arm and he pretends to reel from it, but his grin splits his face. Through the open door of the living room – which is about the size of my entire house – I see people dancing, and the band. The music isn’t overwhelming but it’s good that there’s about an acre of garden round the house.

  ‘I wish all these people weren’t here,’ I whisper to Luke.

  ‘You didn’t expect it to be just you and me, did you?’

  In a way I had. All I’ve thought about all week was being with Luke again. It’s already after eight and I’ve promised Mum and Dad I’ll get a taxi home before twelve. They wanted to pick me up but I persuaded them not to.

  I nuzzle against Luke’s chest. ‘I just want to be with you.’ I can feel his heart through his shirt. ‘I thought we could – you know – find somewhere more private?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He gives a tiny frown.

  ‘Oh, Luke, what do you think I mean? Come on.’ I take his arm and pull him after me. ‘Let’s at least get a drink, get into the party mood. There’s champagne. I mean, actual champagne. It’s like’ – I have a sudden flash of brilliance – ‘Gatsby’s party!’

  ‘Ess, have you been drinking?’

  ‘One glass! It was lovely! Let’s go and have some more.’

  He pulls back. ‘I don’t drink.’

  ‘Since when?’ I ask. ‘You were the one brought the wine for my birthday.’

  ‘I know, but …’

  I look round at all the people, all the glass, and I know what he’s scared of, but at the same time I want him to relax more, or maybe I want to relax more, and I don’t want to drink on my own again.

  ‘You won’t have a seizure because you have one drink.’ I’m pretty confident about this.

  ‘I’m not risking it, Esther. Especially when it’s been so good recently.’ He smiles at me. ‘Let’s go into the garden. Did you see the fairy lights on the trees all up the drive?’

  We get waylaid in the hall by Jasmine who gives Luke a kiss on the cheek. I stiffen in annoyance.

  ‘Luke!’ she says. ‘You look gorgeous. So do you, Esther,’ she says after a pause. ‘That’s a sweet dress. Isn’t it the one you wore for the results party?’

  ‘I’m surprised you remember what anyone wore that night, Jasmine.’ Oh, thanks, Sassy Girl!

  Her eyes glitter. I take Luke’s hand and drag him away.

  The front door is open – if you did that in Palgrave Crescent all the neighbours would know you were having a party and they wouldn’t be long complaining, but all you can see here is the dark sweep of garden, the fairy lights and the lough below. I know the garden doesn’t go down to the sea really – there’s at least a mile of houses and motorway and normal stuff underneath it – but it feels like that. We stand on the driveway and look over Belfast Lough. There’s a big ship in the harbour, all lit up against the black water. The Titanic building is a silver shark.

  ‘Trust Jasmine to live somewhere fancy,’ I say.

  ‘I can’t believe her parents let her have a party like this in their house.’ Luke’s standing slightly behind me; he rests his chin on my shoulder.

  ‘I suppose they want to show it off. And she didn’t put it on Facebook or anything. I don’t think anyone would dare to do anything stupid. I think she’d make them pay for it. Though I suppose you might do something stupid without meaning to.’

  ‘Says the girl who got blind drunk in her own bed.’

  ‘Says the boy who didn’t notice.’

  He puts his arms round my waist and I clasp his hands. I could stand here for ever. Hardly anyone’s outside. Music pulses out of the downstairs windows. I look up and see lights upstairs. Poppy looks out of a window and waves at me. She jumps up and down, her blond plaits flying round her. I wave back.

  A boy and a girl I don’t know run out of the front door, laughing, the boy holding a bottle, the girl with a pint glass. They glance behind them, then make for a dark clump of shrubbery, still giggling. I hear the chink of glass on glass then more giggles. Then silence.


  ‘Luke.’

  Desire shoots through me. I don’t even have to summon up Sassy Girl. I turn round to face him, kiss him hard; tangle my fingers in his hair. He steps backwards, nearly losing his balance, and I fall against him and kiss him more and more and more, harder than I’ve ever kissed him before. I slip my tongue into his mouth, and my hands leave his hair and slide down his back and cup his bum and press him to me, tighter, harder. I don’t want there to be any space between us at all, and –

  ‘Whoa.’ He takes my hands and puts me away from him. ‘Steady on, Ess.’

  The shock is like a slap.

  ‘Don’t.’ He rubs a hand over his face.

  I don’t understand. Aren’t boys meant to be pushing for it all the time? It’s me; I’m not arousing enough, not desirable enough. But no – he said I looked amazing. Do I need to be more encouraging?

  ‘Luke, I’ve missed you. Come on.’ I take my hand from round his waist and place it on the crotch of his jeans. This is way out of my comfort zone.

  Luke shudders. His face is crazy-patterned pink and green and blue under the fairy lights. He bites his lip and closes his eyes. Then he pulls away.

  ‘No,’ he murmurs thickly. ‘No.’

  ‘What do you mean no? I thought boys always wanted to –’

  ‘Stop it!’ He grabs my hands. His fingers burn into my wrists. ‘Don’t tell me what I want!’

  I can’t believe I’ve been so crass. I want to explain that I’m not some kind of nympho, I just need some reassurance that he actually fancies me.

  But he so obviously doesn’t.

  Now it’s me pulling away. The fear that’s lurked for weeks surges up from deep inside. ‘Why won’t you admit you don’t fancy me? You hardly ever touch me.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ He frowns, twisting his face as if it hurts. ‘It’s not you. I … really … like you, but –’

  He leaves the ‘but’ hanging.

  My chest swells with pain. I’m tumbling down the dark, scary hole where I’ve buried all the uncertainties about Luke and me, and I hadn’t realised how deep it was until I started falling.

  ‘But you don’t fancy me? You only like me because you feel safe with me. Because I don’t freak out about the epilepsy.’ I’m sobbing now. That memory that I thought was so beautiful – Luke in my bed, feeling so close – he wasn’t even conscious. He doesn’t share that memory – it was just an illusion, it was just me making it beautiful and special when it was nothing of the sort.