‘You remember what I said?’
‘Of course. So, what did you mean?’
He sighs. ‘Is there any chance you’re going to let this drop?’
‘No. Plus, if you don’t explain it to me, I’m going to tell everyone I had to fish you out of the sea. That wouldn’t do your bad-boy image much good, would it?’
‘That’s blackmail.’ The northern edge in his voice sharpens.
I shrug, waiting.
At my silence, he huffs. ‘Fine. Yes. The day we first met—’
‘The day you moved into my old house,’ I murmur, still able to recall how furious I was at Mum for leaving, holding her responsible for us selling up and leaving town, and all my friends, behind. ‘What about it?’ I prompt, embarrassed to remember how resentful I was of the new family moving into my house. ‘Come on.’
‘I was out front, and you were in your dad’s van. We spoke—’
‘Yes. I was worried about you.’
‘You were?’ An odd note creeps into his voice.
‘Yeah,’ I admit. ‘I watched you and your dad. I didn’t like what I saw. I thought he was scary.’ It makes me feel bad all over again about the comment I made earlier when we argued. Sure, Jake grabbed Shaun, but he didn’t beat him to a pulp or enjoy the scene the way I suspect his dad would have.
‘I know.’ He sighs, clearing his throat. ‘Well, before that conversation, I’d been in the house for the first time. Dad had put me in your old bedroom; he thought that was funny because it was pink. But when I went upstairs and saw the paintings of all the doors on the walls, and how many worlds you’d imagined stepping into … it made me feel hope. Not something I was used to. I also discovered what was under the bed. I saw what you’d created there. It was like a magical place I could e-escape to …’ He stumbles over his words. ‘I felt like I was walking in your footsteps. It made me feel like I already knew you.’
There’s so much pain in his voice when he talks about escaping that I daren’t ask any more questions. But, God … Squirming, I recall the picture he’s talking about, the one under the bed. I think of the fairy who was based on me, with silvery hair and starry eyes, holding a magic wand and a paint brush. That piece is so deeply personal and childish. The thought of another person seeing it makes me feel a bit sick. It feels intrusive, like he’s seen parts of me he shouldn’t have. On the other hand, there’s something about his confession that touches me. He used my creation to escape a world he didn’t want to live in, just like I did after Mum left. Perhaps we’re not so different, and maybe he’s not as hard-faced and cocky as he sometimes appears.
‘So, when I had the opportunity to help you in return,’ he continues, ‘at the same time as helping myself, I took it. Happy now?’ Before I can answer, the moon reappears, lighting the beach around us. I glance around. While we’ve been talking, the party has broken up, the music’s been turned off and a few kids are drifting towards us, heading for the steps carved into the grassy cliff. As he notices them, Jake shifts away, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘Anyway, enough of all that,’ he says, breaking the mood. ‘You’ve had your explanation.’
I stare at him, confused at his abrupt turnaround, my mouth open as I search for the right thing to say. ‘Well, thanks for telling me,’ I reply, uncomfortable. The moonlight catches my bracelet with a glimmer as I move my arm, and I spin it around my left wrist, rubbing the dog charm between two fingers. To fill the silence, I start babbling. ‘My dad finally bought me a puppy as a reward for taking all my exams,’ I blurt. ‘I’ve been on at him to get me a dog for years. As an only child I always wanted company growing up. Anyway, I got her the other day and her name’s Fleur. She’s really cute. She keeps following me around and wanting to play.’
‘That’s nice.’ Tilting his head to the side, he asks, ‘After the character in Harry Potter?’
‘Yes,’ I say, surprised by his observation. ‘The charm arrived this morning. Grandad found it in an envelope that came through the door.’ I press on, wanting another answer from him. ‘You know him, right? The day you left he wanted to go after you, to stop your dad taking you.’
‘He didn’t need to; he knows that.’
‘What?’ I glance at him sharply. ‘How does he know? Have you been in touch with him?’ Hot jealousy shoots though me. I’m not sure whether that’s about Grandad, or Jake.
‘You don’t need to worry about that. Jones, look, there’s something I need to—’
‘Jake!’ A voice shouts above us on the stairs, and I recognise Owen’s lanky frame and shaggy hair. ‘We need to go,’ he hollers. ‘We’ve got a problem. Your dad—’
‘Coming,’ Jake calls back, interrupting his friend. He starts backing away and I go to follow, but he holds his hands up, palms out, to stop me. ‘Don’t. If it’s about my dad, I’ve gotta go now.’
‘Jake, wait—’
‘I can’t.’
‘But what did you mean about my grandad?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ He darts off to the side, grabbing a black rucksack from a pile of bags. Slinging it on his shoulder, he lopes up the steps. ‘Just for the record,’ he says in a rush, ‘I would have been okay without you. There was no need to help me. I’m a strong swimmer and I know my way around the sea. Really.’ As he starts climbing, he gives me a half-salute, touching a hand to his forehead. ‘But thank you. Not bad for a feminist,’ he smirks. ‘And by the way, Jones, I’m glad you grew your hair.’ He points at the sodden ropes hanging almost to my waist. Before I can reply, he nods to the screwed-up T-shirt I’m clutching in front of me. ‘And nice top, but I preferred it on. It definitely looked better on.’ Spinning, he leaps up the steps, taking two at a time without once glancing back.
‘What?’ I stare after him, embarrassment colouring my face. Why did I ever think we were friends?
The Car Charm & The Sea Charm
‘Holy Fuck, what the hell?’ Jake stomps his trainer on the brake pedal, the BMW juddering to a stop.
Whipping his head round, he glares between the head rests, a green car filling his rear-view window. He yanks the handbrake on and leaps out of the door. Racing to the rear end of what he sees now is an old VW Beetle, he slaps an open palm against the back window. ‘Stop. Stop moving, for God’s sake.’
The car halts and the driver’s window is rolled down, a blonde head emerging. The hair is so pale it’s almost silver. ‘Huh?’ Turning her head, she flinches, ‘Oh, Jake. It’s you.’
Jake’s heart jolts in his chest. Leila. He figured she’d have gone to college in town to study art by now. The last time they’d seen each other was eighteen months before, when she’d dragged him from the sea. After he’d made an idiot of himself laying into her friend, and she’d accused him of being like his dad. Not his finest hour, but he’d been embarrassed and, to his shame, his pride had got in the way of manners.
The shock of seeing her now unexpectedly, unprepared for the emotions it causes, adds to his anger. ‘Yep, it’s me.’ His voice rises, a slight northern lilt coating it. ‘And don’t play the innocent. You backed into my car and were trying to drive off. We need to exchange insurance details. Also, it looks like the bumpers are caught on each other, so you’re only