Chapter 23 #2
After a few wide strides, he’s caught up with me. I turn round to see Len shaking his head at us both before ushering the rest of the department in before anyone else can change their minds.
‘You didn’t need to do that.’
‘I know, but I haven’t spoken to you all day, and I’d rather hang around with you for a bit than poke around some dead dude’s house.’
‘That’s nice of you. Don’t ever let Len hear you saying that, though, otherwise you’ll be finding your own way back.’
‘Can’t let that happen. I’ll miss part two of the Jeffrey Archer, and I need to know what happens.’
I tap him lightly on his arm to reprimand him and remember instantly that no, nope, I should definitely not be touching Elliot this weekend.
Elliot in Stratford-upon-Avon is completely different territory to Elliot at school or even Elliot in Karina’s flat.
Being with him here feels risky, like there’s far too little of our familiar friendship to tether myself to.
He presses against my arm in what I’m sure is meant to be nothing more than a playful gesture.
I might be oversensitive, but I’m sure I detect a linger, an unwillingness to break contact with me.
‘Come on then, rebel, what’s the plan? Do you really have a headache?’
‘No. I just needed to be outside for a bit. Maybe we could take a wander. If that wander takes us into a cake shop at any point, so be it.’
We spend some time in the centre, window shopping, before I realise how starving I am, having survived all day on service station snacks.
But the cafés are fuller than they looked as we walked past them, and after a few failed attempts at getting a table, we give in.
Elliot nips inside a Tesco Express to get us both a Diet Coke and a prawn mayonnaise sandwich instead.
I find a bench and we scoff them down gratefully.
As soon as we’ve finished, he pulls me up off the bench and we carry on walking.
We chat about nothing but silly, irrelevant things, our usual school-based conversation taking a holiday too.
I spot an open-all-year Christmas shop that I make him join me in, and I buy us both a decoration of a sausage dog wearing sunglasses to remember the trip.
He takes a selfie of us outside the shop, his face pulled into an unimpressed scowl to counter my huge grin.
He then shows me it, and I laugh. He stays on his phone for a few seconds longer, probably sending the picture to Teddy.
After that, without discussion, we pull away from the shops and head back towards the river, where groups of friends and couples are sitting on the banks, coats still on despite the sunshine.
‘We should hire a boat,’ Elliot says within thirty seconds of us sitting down.
‘Oh God. You’re one of those people, aren’t you? I’ve a crystal-clear image of you on holiday, sitting by a gorgeous pool saying how bored you are and seeking out excursions to caves to see stalactites instead of actually relaxing. Am I right?’
‘One hundred per cent correct,’ he says, smiling. ‘Now about that boat.’
He stands up and holds out his hands for me. I relent, and he pulls me up before setting off towards The Boating House, a large boat hire shed for the tourists.
‘What will it be?’ he asks, reading the board with the various options we could take. A cruise on the river sounds the safest bet, but when I suggest it, he scrunches up his nose. ‘Nah, we want to be masters of our own boat.’
‘Captains, you mean?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ he says. ‘Don’t let that slip up make you think I don’t know exactly what I’m doing. Now, do you want to go motorboat or rowing boat?’
‘Definitely rowing boat,’ I say, opting for the slowest option. ‘As long as you’re the one doing the rowing.’
‘Great choice.’
Elliot speaks to the teenage boys who seem to be running the show while I stand outside in the sun.
He calls me over to the river’s edge once he’s paid.
A disinterested teen helps me into the little wooden boat, and Elliot clambers in after, rocking it so much I sit down as quickly as I can and grip on to the sides.
‘You sure about this?’ I ask as he stumbles into his seat.
‘Yeah, fine. The water’s moving more than I thought it would be, but I’ll get the hang of it.’
‘I’m afraid water does move, Elliot.’
‘Smart arse,’ he mutters as he takes up the oars and begins to row.
At first, it’s funny. We’re laughing as he struggles to get into any sort of rhythm with the oars, and the boat wobbles from side to side.
I act like I think I’m going to die when I’ve actually discovered I’m perfectly safe as he’s going so slowly.
We wave to people on other boats and get a wahey from a group of lads on a motorboat who see Elliot almost drop an oar into the water.
Then he gets the hang of it. We move out of the busy part of the river and to a quieter stretch with grassy banks rather than pavements lined with cafés and pedestrians.
There are less boats around, and it becomes quiet and still.
I’ve been busy watching everything going on outside our little wooden boat, but when I turn to Elliot, he’s looking right at me.
His face is lit up by the sun, and he’s smiling at me, his face full of warmth.
I swallow as it hits me how romantic this could be.
If he started laughing about Len again or making fun of how I’ve still not released my grip on the side of the boat since we set off or telling me for millionth time that he wishes he lived near the water, it would help dilute the romance a little, but instead, he doesn’t talk, and it’s the worst thing he could do.
He keeps smiling, but he bites his lip a little, and a new focus comes into his eyes as he looks at me.
It’s like he can see right through me, all the way to my galloping heart.
I have to look away from him and tell myself to calm down.
I’m the one turning this into something, not Elliot.
I remind myself it’s my feelings I’ve done such a poor job of containing, my feelings that have spread over this moment and turned it into something else not his.
But then I look at him again and begin to wonder if this was an accident like I first thought, or if there was any part of this he planned.
He was the one who wanted to go on a quaint rowing boat so small our knees are touching, and he did choose to lead us out to the quietest part of the river.
He might not know how I feel, but he damn well knows he’s got a girlfriend.
Despite that, he’s planned an obviously romantic activity for the two of us. What the hell is he playing at?
He must see the shift in my expression as I slam the brakes on my runaway thoughts.
‘What’s wrong? Do you want to turn back?
’ There’s nothing in his tone that suggests he’s also struggling with the intensity of his feelings, and his expression has flicked back to being untroubled and open, which only adds to this building anger I’m feeling towards him.
Does he not care about Teddy? Does he not see how uncomfortable this is making me?
‘Yeah, I do.’
His eyes flash with surprise as he notices the sharpness in my voice. ‘OK. Once I work out how to turn this thing around, I’ll take us back. Are you OK?’ he asks, scrutinising my face.
‘I’m fine,’ I lie. ‘I just think we should go back. This was a bad idea.’
‘Was it?’ The question sounds sincere, but I can’t believe he hasn’t a clue how dangerous this feels.
‘Yes.’