Chapter Thirteen
‘You’re going to the classes, too?’ Martyn said, slowly, wondering why he hadn’t seen that coming.
Honor nodded firmly, sliding her phone away. ‘Ru, the class is Thursday evening in Eastern Road in Brighton. I’ll find out where that is and look into the buses.’
Rufus slid off his stool to dump his coffee cup in the sink. He still looked dubious about the whole self-defence thing but offered, ‘Kemptown’s this side of Brighton. The bus that goes to the hospital will get us to Eastern Road.’
She hesitated. ‘What will you tell your mom?’
He quirked his eyebrows. ‘That I’m going out. She never bothers. It’s the upside of her thing about personal freedom.’
‘Great.’ Honor beamed and Martyn’s heart flipped. It was written across her fine, delicate features that she was set on helping the kid. It wasn’t the kid’s fault he had a mad mother; Martyn hadn’t needed Honor’s hard stares to tell him that — but that didn’t stop the mad mother making the kid a trouble magnet. Anyone allied to Rufus Gordon was going to attract some of that trouble and what possible reason could Honor have for making herself part of that? He sighed. Any moment now he was going to say something really stupid. He could feel it building in his gut — or somewhere south of that. There was something about Honor that made him come over all helpful.
‘So we could get a bus from Marine Drive?’ Honor was asking Rufus. ‘We could hang around in my front yard until we see it coming, because that way we’d be less likely to run into Frog.’
‘Suppose,’ said Ru.
Martyn knew what the stupid thing was going to be before he said it. Honor might have the heart of a lion in the body of a ballerina but she was a hell of lot smaller than Frog. ‘I’ll drive you,’ he said. ‘It’s only a few minutes along the coast road.’
‘But—’
He cut across her. ‘It’s no problem.’
‘Oh. Well then, thank you.’ Her smile was golden.
* * *
It wasn’t long before she began doing the polite thing, apologising for invading his home at no notice and insisting that it was time she and Ru left.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘As you have no fish-and-chip cloak of invincibility, we’ll walk Ru home then I’ll walk you home.’
She laughed as she flexed her feet neatly into her shoes but he noticed that suddenly she wasn’t meeting his gaze. He almost reassured her, ‘I won’t try and kiss you, this time. Even though, that day, I’d never wanted to kiss a woman so much in my life.’ To feel her body against his. Had been anticipating the rush of desire that would hit him as he explored the warmth of her mouth and the softness of her lips . . . The connection had been that strong. Until he’d cut it.
‘Thank you. You’re sweet,’ she said.
‘No, I’m not.’ A sweet man would have listened when she wanted to tell him about her marriage. Let her talk out her problems, cry on his shoulder if necessary, and take the obligatory step back out of respect for the relationship with its prior claim. Well, he’d already taken the step back. It just hadn’t been respectful.
And now she was looking at him with laughter and reproof warring in her green eyes, as if she could read his thoughts. Because the connection was that strong.
The evening was clear, the kind of summer twilight that slides so slowly through the deepest shades of blue that it doesn’t meet black until really late. He noted Ru pause on the metal stairs to glance around before continuing nonchalantly on to solid ground. It didn’t sit well to see Ru enduring his teen years instead of enjoying them and he remembered how it felt to be different. He’d had the advantage of a wide circle of friends, which was more than Ru seemed to have, but he’d always been aware of the other kids talking about his weird family.
He watched Honor as she skipped alongside Ru on the narrow pavement, talking earnestly. His eyes fell to her round bottom, rolling perfectly. A row of tiny wispy curls had escaped her ponytail at her nape. He made himself look away. Then looked back.
When they’d seen Ru up the passage and into the door that would take him to the flat above the Teapot, they swung around and walked back down The Butts and into Marine Drive. ‘I feel real sorry for him,’ Honor observed.
‘I’d feel “real sorry” for anyone with Robina as a mother. She’s a pain in the arse.’
Turning the corner into Marine Drive was like stepping through a door to a new weather front. The wind slapped their hair around and rushed into their ears and they saved conversation until they reached the comparative shelter of the bungalow’s patio, tucked in the L of the building.
There, Honor paused, studying her door key. ‘So, what does “Wind your neck in” mean?’
‘Was that too English for you? “Get out of my face”, is the nearest translation, I suppose. Or “Back off”. It’s used when someone’s getting out of order.’
She nodded. The gathering dusk was taking the colour and detail out of her hair and eyes, gradually hiding her from him. ‘I saw you today.’ She cleared her throat. ‘You were on a bus.’
He nodded.
‘You’re a model .’
He frowned. ‘That a problem?’
She turned to lean against the door, crossing her arms. ‘Of course not. I just feel so stupid.’
‘Why?’ he asked, blankly.
‘Because when your sisters gave you a hard time about only working a few days each month, I assumed you were down on your luck.’
A laugh shook through him. ‘No. I do OK.’
‘“OK”! I guess you do. I’m so glad I didn’t offer you yard work. I nearly did, thinking you would maybe welcome a little extra in your pocket.’
‘Offer. I might do it.’ A picture flickered through his mind of working alongside her in the sunshine on the patch of sandy grass that constituted a lawn, rolling up his manly sleeves to tackle the jobs she couldn’t manage.
‘Not now I know! That was before you rode past me this afternoon, fifteen-foot tall, looking like the Dolce just offering to give the kid a lift had made his instincts howl at him to stay away. ‘He’s an unhappy kid. Not surprising, with a mum like that.’
‘No.’ Honor nodded, sadly. She heaved a sigh. ‘She’s a piece of work.’
‘And to think you came all the way over here to find your own mother.’
She laughed shortly. ‘Robina’s enough to put a girl off having a mother. Maybe meeting her the way I have is meant — telling me to leave well enough alone.’
He allowed himself to be distracted by the way the wind was whipping her hair gradually out of its ponytail. Until—
‘Robina’s in love with you—’
‘No, she’s not,’ he cut across her. ‘Lust, possibly, but it’s a lot more stalky than love. Love means that you do the best for the other person, not make life uncomfortable for them to satisfy your own transient and unrealistic desires.’
‘She thinks you and she could be “relationshippy”.’ Honor continued to study the door lock.
‘Trust me. Robina’s love for me is no more real than the word “relationshippy” is.’
Finally, Honor turned the key. ‘Trust me . Both are real in her mind. I can’t explain how uncomfortable it makes me.’
He walked back along Marine Drive telling himself that she was right not to have invited him in. He’d told her he stayed away from other men’s wives; she’d told him that she was married.
End of.
End of . Except here she was living under his nose and getting under his skin. And there was no actual husband to be seen . . .
He rounded the corner in The Butts, feeling for his keys. For a moment he hesitated, looking across the road at where the Fig Leaf’s burning bright windows were open to allow the sound of laughter to lift on to the evening breeze. The idea of strolling in and leaning on the bar for an hour was hugely tempting. There was always someone he knew, someone who would laugh and chat and be undemanding.
But last time he’d gone in for a quiet beer Robina had paid the girl behind the bar to take him over a drink, like in some cheesy movie. So he’d ended up standing there with a drink in each hand, feeling conspicuous and uncomfortable. And Robina had winked at him, which had made people snigger.
He turned across the car park. And then halted. Stared into the black shadow behind the straggly line of bushes that, to someone’s mind, constituted the landscaping of the area, positive he’d seen movement. Fuck’s sake. Robina? Frog?
He stared into the darkness in silence, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. And, as hesitant as a bird, Rufus Gordon stepped into view.
Martyn frowned, not letting himself relax. ‘I thought I’d seen you home.’
Ru nodded. He put his hands in his pockets and scuffed his feet.
‘So what are you hanging around for?’
‘I’m not waiting for you.’
‘So who are you waiting for?’
Ru scuffed his feet again. His trainers looked overlarge for his skinny legs. ‘Not anyone. It was you came charging around the corner. Made me jump.’
Martyn stared at him, tapping his keys against his leg, trying to work out what was going on. ‘Did Robina send you?’
Ru looked up, startled. Wounded. ‘No!’ He turned away. ‘I’m not here for anything, OK? I just don’t want to be there. I’m on my way down to the beach.’
Martyn’s conscience pricked. ‘Have you had a row with your mum?’
Ru slowed. Shrugged. ‘Kind of.’
‘Was it anything to do with you coming here, earlier tonight?’
Ru swung back. ‘I told you I wouldn’t tell her and so I didn’t . OK? Just take a chill pill, will you? Not everything’s about you.’
Unwillingly, Martyn laughed. He let his shoulders unbunch. ‘Sorry. So what’s the problem?’
‘It’ll blow over.’
Perversely, now Martyn wanted to prevent Ru from melting into the night. Unhappiness radiated from the kid like a bad smell. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?’
Ru looked up at the stars that were just beginning to prick through the sky. He shook back his hair. Finally, he muttered, ‘Crusty came out of hospital a day early and Mum and Soppy got drunk on Malibu, to celebrate. Crusty went to bed, probably feeling like shit and wishing she was back in hospital, and Mum and Soppy are being really stupid. They’re dying their hair and they wanted to dye mine, too; coming into my room and getting hold of my arms and trying to drag me into the kitchen, giggling like twats. Mum got really stressed because I wouldn’t do it. Screeching at me.’
Martyn’s lips twitched. ‘Crusty and Soppy?’
‘Kirsty and Sophie,’ Ru clarified impatiently. ‘Who live with us.’
‘Yes, I know who you mean. So what colour did they want to do your hair?’
Ru began scuffing again. ‘Flamingo.’
A pause. ‘Like . . . pink?’
‘Yeah.’
Martyn turned for the metal steps. ‘Want to come up, then? I’ve got some stuff to do but you can watch Sky.’
Ru breathed, ‘OK.’ But it took him a moment to start up the steps behind Martyn, as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d been invited.