Chapter 2 #2
‘Something like that.’ We continue walking down the high street, past Woolworths and the bookies. The corner shop is closed; the bright yellow Benson & Hedges banner wrapped around the front is dull at this time of night. Alice’s bright-blue dress and confidence feel at odds with my hometown.
‘What about you?’
‘Oh. I lost my job. Well… lost is the wrong word.’ She scrunches her nose, like the words smell bad. ‘It’s still there, but someone else is doing it. I wasn’t the right fit. I’m going to try something different.’
‘Different?’ I ask. The street light flickers as we pass.
‘I like history and research. There’s something so appealing about the past, you know?’ She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. ‘The lives that are long forgotten, lost loves, lost stories… I like the idea of bringing them back to life.’
I don’t say that being with her feels like that, that she’s bringing me back to life. Christ, I must be more pissed than I thought.
‘I like dates too. Numbers, maths…’ She trails off.
‘It’s just up here,’ I point to the phone box, and lead us across the road and round the corner.
She takes hold of the door with an ‘Ooof!’
‘Here.’ I move my arm around her and pull the door open with a yank.
Her hair grazes the side of my cheek, brown eyes sparking.
‘How gallant. Thanks. I wonder why they make them so hard to open? This thing weighs a ton.’ She looks at the phone, leans in and drags a finger down the adverts for taxis and lifts the receiver, crooking it on her shoulder.
I let the door close behind her, turning away, digging my hands in my pockets. The door opens again with a squeak.
‘Sorry, but I don’t suppose you’ve got—’ she looks back at the phone, squinting slightly ‘—a few 10p’s do you? I’ve not got the right coins.’
‘Oh, yeah, sure.’ I dig my hand in my pocket and bring out some change, passing it to her.
‘Thanks.’
I lean against the wall, trying and failing not to take surreptitious glances at her.
She’s biting her lip as she slots her finger into the dial.
Her eyes flick up to mine and she smiles, her head tilted slightly, before her attention is brought back to the phone.
She begins talking quickly, then looks through the glass and nods, hanging up. She tries another number.
‘Any luck?’ I ask as she steps out of the phone box.
‘Nope. Honestly, you’d think there’d be more than one cabby about after midnight. Do those always smell that bad?’ She angles her head back to the phone box.
‘Piss and despair?’
‘Yeah, that’s exactly what it smells of.’ She looks back at the phone box. ‘Well… That’s that then.’
I look back up the road as she leans against the wall.
‘We could go back to the club? It’ll be open for another hour, I reckon.’
She shakes her head.
‘There’ll be another bus in the morning. The factory bus comes through at half five. Goes on to the main depot after drop offs.’
‘Morning’s a long way off.’
I look at my watch. ‘Not that long…’
She chews the inside of her cheek, her lip quirking upwards. ‘Was there a chippy down the road?’
‘Aye. Stays open till after last orders.’
‘Fancy a bag?’
‘Sure.’ I nod. ‘I’m starving.’
We head towards Pete’s and order a bag each. Alice straightens the bottles of tomato sauce so that they’re all facing the front. ‘There.’ She grins at me. ‘Much better. What?’ she asks. ‘I like things to look orderly.’
I hold up my hands. ‘No judgements here.’ I think to the way my paints are stacked on my shelf, all front facing. She leans forwards on the counter as Pete scoops the chips onto the paper. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got any salad cream, have you?’
He pauses and looks at her like she’s just asked for a T-bone. ‘You see any salad here?’ He shakes his head and she grimaces at me.
‘So, salad cream with chips?’ I ask as we make our way back to the bench by the bus stop. ‘Yep.’ She nudges me with her shoulder. ‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’
We sit down, a few late-night couples stumbling past us up the road.
‘Do you have family?’ I ask, before blowing on a chip and putting it into my mouth.
The salt, vinegar and grease are just what I need to sort me out.
Maybe some food will sober me up and I’ll stop acting like I’ve just met my soulmate.
Soulmate? I’ve definitely had too many pints and nowt but a crisp butty for tea.
‘Yeah. Older brother, younger sister. You?’ she asks, spearing a chip with a wooden fork.
‘Younger brother.’
‘How old?’
‘Fourteen.’
‘Ouch. Tough age. I bet you make a good big brother though?’
I think of the way I laid into Carl just before I left for using my deodorant and leaving his stinking socks and dirty crockery around the room.
‘What makes you think that?’ She discards the fork and reaches for a chip, examining me again while she chews.
‘You’ve got a wholesome vibe about you.’
I laugh. ‘Vibe?’ I shake my head, frowning a touch. ‘Nobody has described me as wholesome. Prone to brooding, maybe. Shouts at the telly too much, and has the attention span of a fly, more like.’
‘But you’re an artist. That takes attention, right?’ She sucks the salt from her thumb.
‘That’s different.’
‘How?’
I take another couple of chips and think while I chew, trying not to sound like an almighty wanker before I say the following words. ‘It’s like time disappears when I draw… like it doesn’t exist.’
She stops eating, chip halfway to her mouth before replying. ‘That’s how I feel when I research. I can think ten minutes has passed, but then I’ll look at the clock and a few hours have slipped by. And there I am… lost in the past.’
We continue eating. A few groups pass us by, and I wonder what we look like to them.
Do we fit? Do we look like a couple? She’s out of my league, I know that.
Her eyes are dark brown, almost black, her eyelashes are long, her jawline is sharp but the dimple in the middle of her chin softens the clean lines.
‘You’re staring,’ she says, but she’s smiling. It’s not a shy smile, it’s confident, like she knows how good she looks and is comfortable with it.
‘Just committing you to memory, is all.’
‘Am I to be your next muse?’
I eat another chip and look at her again. There is something contagious about her confidence, like it gives me permission to be just as bold. ‘Maybe.’
She turns her head, showing me her side profile, lifting her chin. ‘How’s this?’
I smile as she meets my eyes. ‘Aye. You’ll do.’
She laughs. It’s low, as though it comes right from deep inside her. ‘Such a charmer.’
‘I’m a Yorkshire lad. Won’t do to throw about compliments left right and centre.’
‘And if you weren’t? A Yorkshire lad?’
I snort at her attempt at my accent. ‘Then I’d say that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. But I won’t, because…’
‘You’re a Yorkshire lad. Well, Michael, I might not have lived here for long, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re more than just a lad from Yorkshire. You’re really very beautiful yourself.’
I laugh. ‘Nowt about me is beautiful.’
‘Not true. Blue eyes, black hair that’s almost blue. Like a magpie. And then if we add the whole tortured artist thing too… It’s very sexy.’
I should have a witty comeback, but the words are caught in my throat.
She straightens the ring on her finger. It’s small, silver, with a sapphire raised in the centre, so small it could be missed. ‘That surprises you?’ She frowns, moving closer. ‘Huh. Interesting. You don’t see it at all, do you?’
‘Hard to see beauty around here.’
She licks her bottom lip, a playful smile on her lips.
‘Are you any good? At drawing?’
‘Aye. I’m alright.’
Alice rummages inside her bag. ‘Show me.’ She rips off an A5 sized piece of chip paper and passes it over with her blue eyeliner.
‘What?’
‘We’ve got a few hours to kill, right?’
The corner of my mouth twitches at that. The certainty that I’m going to be spending them with her.
‘Aye.’
‘Well then. Let’s make them count.’