‘Thanks so much, Mum.’
‘You’re welcome. I couldn’t have you in those old ones forever, could I?’
‘I promise I’ll take good care of them this time.’
‘Yes, please do. No more taking them off while you’re out and about. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘How do they fit?’ she asked. ‘If they’re not right, we can pop to the optician’s tomorrow and get them adjusted.’
Elliot stood up and walked around the table, giving her a bear hug that left her gasping for breath. ‘No, they’re perfect.’ He grinned. ‘No one will recognise me at school on Monday now. They’ll be like: “Who’s this cool dude in the funky specs?” I’ll have to introduce myself all over again.’
‘Go on with you, silly sausage. Go and get changed out of your smart new uniform before you spill your tea down it.’
Saturday, 21 July 2018
Chloe was seriously freaked out. The minute she got up to her room, she messaged her best friend, Holly, whose house she’d stayed at the night before.
C: Are you still awake?
H: For now. Mum says I have to go to bed soon, seeing as we barely slept last night. It was fun, though, right?
C: Definitely! I’ll ask my parents if you can come for a sleepover here soon. What are you up to?
H: Not much. Chilling, watching some YouTube videos. You?
C: Something seriously strange happened tonight. I have to tell you about it.
H: Sounds exciting. Btw, before I forget, you left your hairbrush.
C: Wondered where that was. Thanks. Will pop round for it sometime.
H: So what happened?
C: Mum had this old friend over for tea – a man called Elliot. They were BFFs when they were kids. (They didn’t say so, but I think he might be gay.) Anyway, like twenty years ago, Elliot moved to Australia and they never saw each other again – until now. He turned up yesterday and surprised Mum. He’s staying at The Grange.
H: What’s he like?
C: Nice, I guess. He has an odd accent, somewhere in between English and Australian.
H: What’s so strange?
C: Coming to that now. I was on my own with him in the kitchen when we were tidying up after tea. The two of us were emptying the dishwasher. I picked a sharp knife out of the cutlery rack and it slipped from my hand. It fell, blade first, straight towards my bare foot. There was no time to move. And this is what freaked me out: right at the last minute, the knife changed direction. Suddenly, without any obvious explanation, it went flying to one side, out of the way.
H: Eh? So it didn’t hit your foot?
C: Nowhere near. It ended up on the other side of the room, like some invisible force had swiped it away.
H: What do you mean? Did it hit a cupboard or something on the way down?
C: No, definitely not. There was nothing between the knife and my foot other than air. That’s what was weird.
H: And Elliot?
C: He was putting away some plates at the time. He wasn’t anywhere near close enough to knock it away. But somehow I still think it was him.
H: You’re confusing me.
C: I think he did it without touching it – using his mind or whatever.
H: Is this a wind-up, Chloe?
C: Seriously. I looked over at him after it happened and he gave me this kind of embarrassed look, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Then he smiled and said: ‘Close call, kiddo. You need to be careful with knives.’
H: What did you say?
C: Nothing. I was too busy trying to wrap my head around it.
H: Did you tell your parents or Ben?
C: Of course not. They’d think I was crazy.
H: And you thought I wouldn’t? Lol. Remember we basically had no sleep last night. It’s probably your mind playing tricks. Sorry, got to go. Mum’s breathing down my neck about having a shower. Chat in the morning?
C: Sure. Night. X
H: Night. X
Chloe placed her mobile on the bedside table. It was 8.32 p.m. Her parents were still busy entertaining downstairs. Better that than biting each other’s heads off, anyway.
She hoped Elliot wasn’t any more to Mum than an old friend. Chloe was already worried enough about her parents’ marriage, without anything or anyone else to complicate matters. Certainly Dad hadn’t looked as enthusiastic about their visitor as Mum had. And neither of them had been keen to chat about their evening out together last night, which suggested it hadn’t gone well.
She thought back to Holly’s words about how tiredness might have led her to imagine the kitchen incident. Really? No, that wasn’t possible. She knew what she’d seen.
So what did that make Elliot? A magician? A superhero? Some kind of supernatural being? A vampire, perhaps?
They’d studied Gothic literature in English class at school this year, looking at classic novels like Bram Stoker’s Dracula and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. She’d loved the idea of these books but found the reality hard going. Instead, she’d turned to something more modern: Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight saga. She was hooked, currently enjoying the second book in the series, New Moon, which was next to her mobile on the bedside table.
Could Elliot really be a vampire? She laughed at herself for considering this option. And then she came back to it, since only a fantastical explanation could come close to explaining what she’d seen. And was it any more ridiculous, any more unbelievable, than the idea of him being a superhero?
The big argument against the vampire theory was the fact that Elliot had eaten with them earlier. In Twilight, Edward ate a small amount of pizza at one point, Chloe recalled, but it definitely wasn’t a pleasant experience for him. He compared it to a human eating dirt, from what she remembered. Well, there was definitely no sign of that at the table tonight. Elliot had dug into Mum’s lasagne with enthusiasm, commenting on how delicious it was, and even having seconds.
On the other hand, Elliot appeared younger and in better shape than either of her parents. He was good-looking, for an adult: the right combination of slim and muscular, with a jawline that actually reminded her of Robert Pattinson, who played Edward Cullen in the Twilight movies. (She was saving these for later but had seen plenty of photos.) Such things, together with that supernatural ability, were ticks in the potential vampire box.
What