35. Nell
35
NELL
For the second time in as many weeks, I am sitting in a public toilet, crying.
The drinks I’ve just ordered are on the cubicle floor in front of me – probably not ideal from a health-and-safety point of view – and I’m perched above them on the closed toilet seat, sobbing into the heels of my hands.
I don’t know what happened. I was on my way back out to the garden with the drinks when I heard Charlie’s voice floating through the open door. He wasn’t talking about skateboarding this time – it was something about not liking school. And then Will started speaking, and like a total weirdo, something made me pause behind the door so I could keep listening.
Before I knew it, my eyes were swimming with tears. That story about Henry Fucking Arsehole Castle . . . I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear anyone making my brother feel like that. I realised how creepy it was to be standing at the door, eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help myself: it was an insight into a part of my brother’s life that I’ve never previously had access to. And not only that: it was an insight into Charlie’s life.
It didn’t particularly surprise me to learn that he’d been to a posh school. Ever since I first met him, it was easy to picture him as a swaggering teenager, rah-rah-rah-ing it up with a load of Bullingdon-esque dickheads. So it was beyond shocking to hear him talk so frankly about how he never fitted in with those ‘stuck-up, entitled idiots’, as he called them. How he’d had to pretend to be someone else the whole time. It just didn’t match the image I’d been building of him. Not for the first time lately, I’m wondering if that image was wrong.
It finally got too much to bear when Charlie had told Will – almost angrily – that things would get better. That this wasn’t the rest of his life. That soon he’d be out of that school and meeting new people and actually enjoying his life. It summed up so precisely what I’ve been wanting to say to my brother for years, but never have. I was so grateful to Charlie for saying it – for meaning it – that something just melted inside me.
I pressed a hand to my face and ran for the loos.
When I’m finally done crying, I gather up the drinks and dry my cheeks as best I can in front of the mirror. Before I step back out into the garden, I take a deep breath, resolving to act totally normally, as if I haven’t heard a thing. But then I see them, and it’s pretty clear that the emotional heart-to-heart has ended anyway.
Charlie is on the grass next to the table, wobbling madly on Will’s skateboard, trying to get his balance. It reminds me of seeing him on those stilts. At the table, Will is bent double with laughter watching him.
‘I can do this!’ Charlie shouts, trying to stand up straight. ‘It’s just been a while!’
‘Bend your knees!’ Will cackles.
Charlie bends his knees. ‘OK, the muscle memory’s kicking in now . . .’ He kicks out with his foot and makes the skateboard jump – about two inches – off the grass.
‘Yes!’ He punches the air as he lands. ‘Still got it!’
‘OK, that was good, man,’ Will laughs, applauding. ‘You still could be the next Jamie Foy.’
The sight of my brother laughing his head off, being happy and silly and carefree, nearly melts me again. It’s so, so good to see him like this. But I bite the inside of my cheek and walk over breezily.
‘Everything OK out here?’ I ask, putting the drinks on the table.
‘Yeah,’ Will chuckles. ‘I’m getting Charlie back on the board.’
Charlie holds his arms out and smiles at me. ‘What do you reckon, Nell?’
‘Very impressive,’ I say, smiling back.
In the end, we take the drinks straight back to the skatepark because Will wants to show Charlie some trick or other he’s learned.
I sit on the graffiti-covered wall, sipping my coffee in the sun, and watching the two of them pootling about on the other side of the park. Will jumping down the little set of stairs again and again, Charlie egging him on. When Will finally lands the trick, Charlie leaps into the air, cheering, and runs after him as he rolls away, even pulling him off his board into a hug. A load of other skaters are clapping too. Even from far away, I can see Will blushing, overwhelmed by it all. But he looks so . . . happy. I take a photo and send it to Mum. She replies a minute later with a whole screen full of hearts. And then a second message: Who’s the other boy . . .? A friend of yours?
Classic Mum. I opt to ignore that question and slip my phone back in my pocket. As I do, I see Charlie ambling back towards me. Will has started talking to some of the other skaters, who look about his age and are fist-bumping him for landing his trick.
Charlie hops up onto the wall next to me. ‘I swear your brother could actually turn pro one day. He is seriously good!’
I honestly have to fight the urge to grab his hand and squeeze it. I want to let him know how unbelievably grateful I am for what he said to Will back at the cafe. But I also don’t want him to know I was eavesdropping. So all I say is, ‘Thank you, Charlie.’
‘Thank you for what?’ he asks. The twinkle in his eyes shows me how he chuffed he is that I’ve not called him ‘Francombe’.
‘For . . .’ I nod over to where Will is still laughing with the other skateboarders.
Charlie shrugs. ‘Are you kidding? This is the most fun I’ve had in months. It’s actually making me think I should start skating again.’
‘Ha. Do it. But, seriously . . . Will has been a bit down recently, and I really feel like you’ve cheered him up.’
Charlie nods. ‘Yeah. He mentioned some stuff about school not being great.’
‘Oh, right?’ I try to keep my voice casual. ‘Did he mention anything in particular?’
‘Not really.’
The fact that he doesn’t tell me anything – that he doesn’t betray Will’s trust – only makes me like him even more.
‘He’s so obviously a great kid,’ Charlie says. ‘I just told him that he’ll be OK, and that this – right now – isn’t all there is. That things will get better.’
I have to fight the urge to squeeze his hand again. ‘Thank you. Seriously. That really means a lot. To him, and to me.’
He looks at me, smiling under his choppy blond hair. ‘Of course.’ He takes his phone and glances at it. ‘Shit, I’d better go.’
‘Oh, OK. Have you got plans today?’
‘Yeah . . .’ He looks away, and the first thing that flashes into my head is that he might be meeting Daphne. I want to find out more about what happened between them on Thursday night, but I can’t think of a chill way of asking.
Charlie scuffles his hair and laughs. ‘I’m meeting my mum, actually. Haven’t seen her for a while, so we’re having lunch.’
‘Oh, right.’ Relief courses through my body. ‘Well, it was really nice to see you. Very random . . . but nice.’
He hops down off the wall. ‘Yeah, it was great. I’ll go over and say bye to Will. See you Monday though, right?’
‘Yep,’ I say. ‘See you Monday.’