Keep Me (Beggar's Choice #3) (3 page)

Bram looks at me sceptically but in the end he obviously
recognises that I’m not giving in. “Well this is the quickest way. How about
you try it because you’re going to seriously add to your journey in rush hour
otherwise?”

I take a deep breath.
I can do this
I tell myself.
I’ll
focus on him and he’ll never know
.

Ten minutes later I take a deep breath and try to
unobtrusively blow it out. At first it hadn’t been too bad. The worst bit was
going down the steps and into the ground. Once I was down there the space was
large and well-lit, and as long as I kept my mind resolutely away from the
earth above us I was relatively okay. Bram helped by staying close and holding
my hand firmly in one of his large ones, his long fingers curved protectively
over mine. The tingles took my mind off it too.

We’d got on the tube and at first that too had been okay as
it was fairly empty, but then as the stations passed by more and more people
got on until now we’re packed in like sardines and I can feel the press of
people against me. I feel a trickle of sweat work down my back and everything
behind my eyes seems to go dark. I can’t see anything apart from people and the
knowledge that I can’t get out even if I want to makes it worse and I feel the
panic start to wing its way in. I know that I’m a few steps away from a bad
panic attack.

Bram has been standing hovering over me protectively since
we got up to let a young mum and child have our seats, and now he stoops over
me looking me in the eyes steadily. “Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes dark with
concern. “You’re ice cold babe.”

I nod jerkily unable to open my mouth for fear that I’ll
start screaming and I won’t stop. I become aware that he’s calling my name.
“Alys, Alys love look at me.” His voice is deep and sure, the Irish more
pronounced than ever and something in it calls me back. I look into his green
gold eyes and feel a welcome sense of calm start to seep into me. “That’s right
babe. Breathe in and out slowly. Don’t look round. Concentrate on me and
getting those breaths in and out.”

He keeps up a stream of nonsensical, low voiced chatter that
doesn’t require an answer until I feel a bit of calm come back and he sags in
relief. “That’s better sweetheart. You held your breath for too long and you
went a really funny colour.” He straightens slightly and looks at me intently.
“Fresh air and seeing the sights my arse. I
knew
that wasn’t the reason.
Is there something that you’re not telling me?”

“I might be a tiny bit claustrophobic.”

“There’s no might be about it. How tiny?”

I sigh. “Quite a lot. I panic quite badly even in a lift.”

“Shit Alys sorry. Is that why you went down the stairs from
the flat this morning rather than use the lift?” I nod. I’d made an excuse of
needing the exercise and he’d complied immediately but while he looked as fresh
as a daisy when he’d emerged I’d come out looking like the victim of an
apocalypse. He does look genuinely sorry and I smile affectionately at him but
then he jerks. “Wait, you came up in the lift?”

 I smile. “I closed my eyes and made my lists.”

“Lists?”

“I make lists and go through them to keep calm.”

He smiles affectionately at me. “Oh Alys my anally retentive
relation what are we going to do with you?”

“Find me a bus route,” I answer hopefully but he shakes his
head and sighs still holding onto my hand and almost unconsciously rubbing it.
The panic is slowly edging away as I focus on him. I’ve found in the past that
if I focus hard I can usually stave off a panic attack.

“I’m sure I can do better than that.” He looks at me
reproachfully. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I stare at him for a second. “It’s embarrassing.”

He looks angry now. “It’s not embarrassing. It’s a condition
which millions of people have and it’s very powerful. It’s not just a fancy.
I’ve seen panic attacks and they’re not pretty.”

“You sound like you know personally?”

He shrugs. “Not me. Seth’s claustrophobic.”

“
Really
? But he’s such a big man.”

He shoots me a sidelong look. “What? It’s not so
embarrassing now when it’s a 6’ 5” man eh?”

I shrug. “I think some people think it’s put on. I’ve been
accused of doing it for attention before so I keep quiet on the whole. I didn’t
want you to take the piss out of me if I had a panic attack.”

He looks angry. “Why the
fuck
would you think that
and who the fuck in hell took the piss out of you for that?”

“Why? Are you going to beat him up?”

He snorts. “Maybe,” and then he brightens. “Was it Father
Reilly because I’m definitely okay with that?”

I smack his arm and he laughs before glancing over the heads
of people which is easy for him with his height. “We’re two stops away love.
Are you okay to keep going or do you want to get off at the next stop?”

“You’re not going to encourage me to keep going?”

He looks at me in utter incomprehension. “Fuck no, why?”

“That’s what most people do.”

He gives me a pitying look. “Alys surely you’re aware by now
that I’m not
most
people. Why the fuck would you keep going when it’s
terrifying you? Life’s too short for that. I’d rather walk in the fresh air
than have you faint. Besides you’ve done fucking well to get this far.” He
hesitates. “Does the deafness make it worse?”

I consider that. “A bit I suppose. It doesn’t help that I
just get this roar of noise and press of bodies around me and I can’t
distinguish individual sounds enough so it becomes really oppressive.”

“That’s really crap babe I’m sorry.”

“You can’t help it Bram.” I’m touched by his concern.

However, in his agitation he takes his beanie off to run his
hand through his hair and once his distinctive face and hair are revealed I
suddenly feel like the cynosure of everyone’s eyes. A few people had eyed him
when we’d walked through the station and onto the train but somehow he seemed
to merge with his surroundings like a very tall chameleon. He’d kept his head
lowered but not enough to invite attention and he’d walked smoothly as if he
didn’t expect any attention and therefore didn’t get any. However, now I can
count with a quick glance at least four people filming us on their phones and I
see the moment that he realises it too. “Fuck!” he mutters. “Sorry.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to attract attention. I want to make sure that
you’re okay. That’s my focus at the moment.”

I’m incredibly touched by this but just as I open my mouth
to thank him a man turns round. He’s middle aged with a massive belly over
which is straining an old Guns n Roses t-shirt. “Fuck are you Bram O’Connell?”
he asks in a very loud voice.

Bram gazes around desperately and at least ten more phones
train on us. Finally he sighs lightly and imperceptively. “Yeah I am mate,” he
says accepting the enthusiastic handshake from the stranger, who in his
enthusiasm knocks into me. At once Bram snatches me into his side protectively.
“Careful,” he says in a low voice. “Alys is a bit claustrophobic. Give her a
bit of space.”

“Sorry, sorry.” The man hastily moves back so that his belly
no longer nudges me. “You alright love? You’re a very funny colour.” I open my
mouth to answer but before I can get a word out he turns back to Bram who
smirks at me. This smirk is wiped right off his face with the man’s next words.
“Love the new album mate. Loads better than the last one which if you ask me
was a total sack of shit.” I snort out a laugh which I hastily cover as a
cough, but I needn’t have bothered because the man’s focus is now on Bram who
listens stoically as for the next two stops the man tears apart the Beggar’s
Choice back catalogue, critics Bram’s women, particularly the famous supermodel
who apparently had an arse like a pancake, and then moves on to offering
helpful ideas for the next album.

I’m shaking with laughter by now but not too much that I
can’t egg the man on. “Really Phil,” I murmur. “That’s very interesting. What
direction do you think their music should go next?” Bram glares at me making a
face like a gargoyle, but manages to wipe it clean when Phil turns back to him.

His ideas last us through getting off the train, manoeuvring
through the station and then up and out into the fresh air at which point Phil
stops suddenly, looking confused.

“Fuck this isn’t my stop,” he mutters. Bram tries not to laugh
and looks at him enquiringly. “Can I have an autograph mate?”

“Of course.” Bram looks around enquiringly as if a pen is
somehow going to materialize out of thin air and I sigh and dig one out of my
bag. He hesitates with his pen over the paper. “Shall I make it out to Phil?”

The man shakes his head. “Bloody hell no mate, make it out
to Julie. That’s my wife,” he offers to me. “She’s a huge fan. I’m more of an
Iron Maiden man myself.” He snatches the paper and within seconds he’s gone and
I break into peals of laughter.

Bram slumps against the wall running his hand down his face.
“Fuck!” he mutters.

“Was that one of your super fans?” I enquire, trying to stop
laughing and he makes a face.

“Shut up. I’ve had worse.” He looks at me intently. “You
okay there?”

I consider it, feeling the air cool on my face. “Yeah I’m
fine now.”

“You did brilliantly.”

I seesaw my hands. “I might have had a panic attack if it
wasn’t for Phil. Do you think he’s available for day trips?”

He laughs. “I don’t think my ego would take it.”

“Your ego’s fine.” I mean it. He’d impressed me today
accepting the man’s comments with extreme good grace.

“Well I still think that you did well.”

“Maybe not enough to want to do it again though.”

He looks at me intently. “No I don’t think so babe. I don’t
like the idea of you suffering through that on your own. Maybe I could …”

“What?”

“If I rearrange the band’s practices I could travel back and
forwards with you.”

“You would travel to university every day with me so that
I’m not on my own with claustrophobia?”

He looks at me in consternation and then says simply, “Of
course I would.”

“Oh Bram.” I’m unbearably touched. “There’s no need for
that. I’m a big girl. I’ve been on my own for a long while now. I’ll be fine.”

He looks at me searchingly. “How long have you been on your
own?”

“Since I was thirteen.”

“What?”

“Yeah, my mum died then.”

“But you had a stepfather didn’t you? I dimly remember Ma
going on about it.”

“Yes, Richard, but he couldn’t cope with a deaf child so he
put me into fostering.”

“He did
what
?” His voice is deadly.

“It doesn’t matter Bram.”

“Yes it fucking does. Your stepfather put you into care.
That’s fucking unbelievable. Wasn’t there anyone else who could have had you?”

“No, mum was my only family. It wasn’t so bad.”

He hesitates. “Were they good to you?”

“On the whole yes babe.”

“On the whole?”

“Some good, some bad, but nothing unendurable.”

“I somehow think that your idea of unendurable might not
match other peoples.”

I smile. “Maybe you’re right but I’m a big girl and I’ve
been looking after myself for a long time now. I’ll be fine.”

“Does your …?” He stops.

“What?”

“Does your claustrophobia come from your time in care?”

I shrug, not wanting to go into the story of being locked in
a cupboard for being cheeky by one particular gem of a foster carer. “I don’t
remember. I’ve been claustrophobic for years.”

He doesn’t look convinced and furthermore he looks as if he
might be about to launch himself over to Ireland to find Richard and all the
others and fight my battles and I’m so touched. “It’s done now Bram and I came
out fine. I’m used to being on my own.”

He looks at me for a long time, examining my face as if it
holds secrets. “Well you’re not on your own now alright. I’m here.” I stare at
him and as if he suddenly realises that he’s been serious for too long the
familiar lighthearted grin slides over his face. “That’s what family’s for
Cousin Alys.”

Alys

I’m up the next morning bright and early and ready for the
induction day at university where I can check my courses, get my union card and
meet my tutors. I’m nervous but less than I would have been if Bram and I
hadn’t spent yesterday afternoon pottering around the campus, checking out the
buildings and where everything was.

The campus proved to be huge and as too much chaos when I
was a kid has made me chary of racing into things without thinking first, I was
prepared to spend all day there if needed. What I wasn’t prepared for was to
find that Bram had stuck to me like glue. When I’d protested that he was
supposed to be going to band practice he’d instantly demurred, stating that he
wanted to see me settled, and I’d have been more worried about imposing on him
if he hadn’t shown such an eager, interested expression.

He’d kept his beanie tucked down low on his forehead and
with his casual clothes and half laced combat boots he’d looked like just
another student rather than a twenty six year old multimillionaire rock star.
There had been a few people milling about, mostly foreign students who came the
week before everyone else, and apart from a few keen glances at him which had
probably been more to do with his male beauty and loose limbed stride than
recognition, we’d gone undisturbed. He’d seemed relieved by that and had dogged
my steps all over the campus like a very determined puppy, chattering away
happily about anything that came into his head.

I’d been amazed by how easy I felt with him. After all, he’s
a complete stranger, a major player and a rock star, but he’d made me laugh a
lot and he’s surprisingly astute and wise for someone that affects such a
carefree, careless attitude.

Dismissing the previous morning I roll out of bed and head
into the shower which is a true thing of beauty and I think when I have to
leave it I’m going to cry. Multiple jets pummel me from all angles and I swear
I’m cleaner than I’ve ever been in my life when I emerge.

I blow dry my hair and leave it loose and wavy. After adding
some light make up I pull on my black ankle length skinny jeans and ballet
pumps, pairing them with a white shirt which I leave loose and over which I add
a shorter black jumper. I grab my black jacket and pink scarf and snatch up my
old backpack. It’s a khaki canvas bag that I’ve had since I did my GCSE’s but
I’ve never seen the point in replacing things just because they’re old.
Thinking about never throwing away old things I’d have actually made a good
partner for a sugar daddy if I was so inclined.

I skip down the stairs following the scent of coffee like a
bloodhound and I hear the mumble of voices as I get closer. As normal I can’t
make out the details but the timbre of voices tell me that there’s two people,
and as I enter the room they both turn away from the breakfast bar which is
strewn with papers to face me. Bram smiles crookedly at me and I beam back at
him making him blink slightly. I turn to the other man and it’s my turn to
blink because he’s absolutely gorgeous – tall and leanly muscled with shaggy
blonde hair and warm brown eyes.

Bram clears his throat pointedly and I become aware that I’m
still staring at the man. Looking enquiringly at Bram I’m amazed to see a scowl
on his pretty face, and I start when he lopes over to me and grabbing me familiarly
around the waist he pulls me to face him. For a second we stare at each other
and I try valiantly not to focus on his lip ring which he’s worrying at with
his tongue, but then I gasp in indignation as he takes my jacket, pulls it onto
me and then starts firmly buttoning it up.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I gasp, grabbing hold of his
fingers only to stare open mouthed as he slaps my fingers away lightly.

“No need to waste these on Matt, Alys,” he says, nodding his
head at my breasts and then gesturing to the other man who is now staring at
him curiously.

“What the fuck?” I gape.

“Yep, that’s Matt and you need to cover these up because
they’re wasted on him seeing as he’s more of a one for cock if you know what I
mean.”

I stare at him in disbelief as Matt chokes out a laugh. “It
would be hard to find someone who could possibly misinterpret that Bram,” I
finally settle for saying faintly.

Matt sighs and rubs his eyes. “You suck at fucking intros
Bram. You totally suck.”

Bram fastens the last button on my jacket under my neck and
then fastens the small press stud with a happy sigh. “Dude I’m awesome. You
both love me and you’re both heavily in denial about it.”

“Mate the only thing that I’m in denial about is just how
much psychiatric care you need,” Matt mutters and then comes forward to shake
my hand as I quickly remove the jacket. “I’m Matt,” he smiles, showing
beautiful white teeth. “You’re Alys and I’ve heard a lot about you already from
Bram.” He’s obviously heard that I’m deaf because he’s facing me and talking
clearly but I can’t concentrate on that at the moment.

“You’re so pretty,” I say in disbelief and Bram gives an
annoyed chuff.

“You talk about my filter Alys. I think you might be lacking
one too. Matt is not a sexual object.” Matt looks like he might like to demur
but settles for giving Bram a very focused look which he ignores, instead
waggling a cup at me. “Coffee?”

“Oh yes please.” I settle down gratefully on the bar stool
and look at the piles of papers and the massive diary with papers bulging out
of its sides. “Am I interrupting you both?”

Matt smiles kindly and shoves them to one side. “Not at all.
We were just sorting out Bram’s schedule and dealing with the latest of his
diva demands.”

“Mate I just asked for only blue smarties. How fucking diva
is that?” Bram says indignantly but Matt waves him off mouthing ‘diva’ at his
back.

I laugh and wave my hand at the mess. “Are you …?”

“Yes,” he says. “I am Bram’s assistant for my sins.”

“Oh dear, poor you,” I commiserate and he laughs, pushing
his wavy hair back off his forehead.

“I know. Can you see my wrinkles?”

“No wrinkles. You have a very manly forehead,” I sigh
theatrically and we laugh out loud. I like him immensely and I’ve already got
that feeling that you get with some people where you instantly know that
they’re going to be important to you.

Bram huffs crossly as he sets my cup down in front of me,
passes me the cream from the fridge and shoves the sugar bowl at me. I smile my
thank you at him but then I’m distracted by the look of utter amazement that
Matt is giving Bram.

“
What
?” Bram asks defensively. “What have I done?”
It’s obvious that this is a well-worn phrase by the way.

Matt shakes his head. “You know how she takes her coffee.”

“So?”

“It’s just that I’ve known you since I was thirteen Bram and
we’ve been best friends all that time and you still can’t remember the most
basic details about me.”

“I can.”

“Really? Was it you serving me prawn fried rice the other
night when I’m allergic to shellfish?”

“That was a fucking accident,” Bram says indignantly.
“Anyway I can’t keep up with your faddy eating habits.”

Matt laughs loudly. “Faddy! I’m fucking allergic to
shellfish. It’s not a lifestyle choice you twat.”

Bram waves his fingers at him dismissively. “Jog on kitty
and take your prawns with you.”

They both laugh out loud and I watch them fascinated as they
dive back into the paperwork as it’s obviously a very established friendship.
They both obviously love each other a lot and finish each other’s sentences and
understand the cryptic comments thrown around.

I eat some cereal watching them and make a mental note to
buy some food so that I’m not scrounging off Bram. The sound of my spoon
hitting the bowl interrupts them in a very lengthy conversation about haircuts,
bass guitar strings and a record company party. I’m surprised that I’ve managed
to follow it at all but when they look at me I seize my chance. “I’ll buy some
food today,” I say cheerily. “And you’ll have to let me look at some of the
bills so that I can give you some money for the gas and electricity.”

“Give me money?” Bram is staring at me open mouthed and Matt
reaches over and gently closes it for him. “Why would you be giving me money?”

“For bills,” I say patiently.

“Why the fuck would I need your money to pay the bills
babe?”

The incredulity in his voice angers me. “I might not have
much Bram but I’m perfectly capable of paying my way.”

“No fuck off.”

“Pardon?”

“I know you’re perfectly capable of it but I. Am. Not.
Having. It. So put your fucking purse away.”

We’re both standing up in our agitation and Matt clears his
throat looking at Bram curiously as if he’s never seen him before. “I think
Bram is trying to tell you that he thanks you for your kind offer Alys but he’s
going to have to refuse you because you are a guest in his house and the Irish
take that seriously. And Bram, Alys is trying to kindly offer you money because
she doesn’t wish to be seen to be imposing on your hospitality.”

Bram’s face slowly loses its anger. “Have you swallowed a
dictionary,” he asks slowly and Matt laughs.

“What’s got into you this morning mate? Alys is just trying
to help. This isn’t you - you never get cross.”

Bram rubs his fingers along his beard and flashing me a look
he says something to me as he turns away and wanders over to the window. I
flush, suddenly mortified. I can’t hear him and I know he’s still talking but
it’s a faceless mutter. Matt catches my eye and says
Bram
urgently. Bram
turns and catches my expression.

“What did I do?” he asks coming back and running a hand
gently down my hair.

Taken aback by the gesture I hesitate and then give in. “My
hearing’s bad today so I can’t hear you properly when you turn your back on
me.” I’m so mortified and suddenly I fucking hate this disability so fucking much.
I hate that I can’t even have a disagreement with someone without having to ask
them to face me. Sometimes it seems to make everything I do so artificial. I’m
drawn back by Bram stroking my hair more forcibly until I look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says clearly. “I didn’t think.”

“No, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to think of it.”

“
Why
?” It’s the utter incredulity in his face which
stumps me.

“Why, what?”

“Why shouldn’t I have to think of it?”

“Well you’re in your own home and you’re having to make
allowances because of me.”

“Not because of you.
For
you.”

“What?”

“That’s what mates do babe. We do things for each other. You
can’t hear properly sweets. It’s a fact so we just deal with it. No use getting
embarrassed about it with me.” He suddenly looks a bit hurt. “I can’t believe
that you actually thought that I’d be put out by it.”

“I’m sorry,” I say instantly, grabbing his hand to stop its
absent minded caressing of my hair. I’m amazed by his casualness over the whole
thing and it’s almost like that breath of cool air that you get when you leave
a hot house. It refreshes me and bolsters me in some strange way, and watching
him I think that he knows it because he relaxes.

“So, no turning my back on you. Anything else we should know?”
He gestures between himself and Matt as if they’re a team and I smile slightly
and then brace myself.

“Noisy backgrounds make it difficult to pinpoint one voice,
it just all blurs into one noise.” They nod encouragingly. “I sometimes can’t
locate where a sound will come from and I can’t hear when someone mumbles, but
equally don’t shout at me.”

“Why? Does it hurt your ears?” Bram asks anxiously.

“No, no,” I soothe and I see Matt staring at him again. “It
just makes it incomprehensible, plus it’s bloody rude.”

He snorts. “Okay.”

I’m gathering strength now. “Don’t talk down to me. I’m deaf
not stupid. Sometimes I’ll mispronounce new words. Don’t laugh at me.”

“Who the fuck …?” Bram begins but I shake my head and he
subsides to Matt’s not hidden amusement.

“I can’t lip read properly when a man has a beard. I sing
out of tune and when I’m tired my hearing gets worse because my concentration
lapses and then I get headaches. However, my hearing in my other ear is very
good and probably better than one of yours, and I can hear my own voice so my
tone hasn’t suffered.”

I falter to a stop and Bram looks thoughtful. “Beards eh?
I’d never have thought of that.” He shakes off whatever thought he’s had like a
dog shaking off water and then smirks. “Out of tune singing is nothing new
anyway, you should hear Matt.”

“Fuck off!” Matt says but he’s interrupted by a phone
ringing. Bram saunters over to it.

“Hi. Yes that’s brilliant mate. Five minutes okay?” He hangs
up and walks over holding out my jacket.

“What?” I ask letting him help me into it and pull my hair
out of the collar for me.

“That’s your driver. He’s waiting downstairs at the front.”

“My
what?”

“Your driver.” He shrugs as if he’s not just dropped a
bombshell.

I sigh. “Bram what have you done?” I ask as I rub my
forehead.

Matt laughs. “That expression there. You should get used to
that because you’ll wear it all the time living with this one.”

“Hey!” Bram says indignantly.

“What? It’s the truth. I think that scientists have
officially named that cluster of wrinkles as The Bram O’Connell Area.”

Bram sticks one finger up at him and then turns back holding
his hand up. “This isn’t negotiable babe. Henry’s going to drop you off at
university and pick you up when you’re done.” He thrusts a piece of paper that
Matt passes to him into my hand. “That’s his number. Ring him when you’re
ready. No, no,” he puts his hand up again. “No argument. It’s happening.”