Soulmates (3 page)

“Well, I loved the show,” Ruth simpered. “But I didn’t have a
physical
reaction to it…like Poppy here.”

At the mention of my name, my head snapped up and I looked at her in confusion.

“Poppy’s the one I was telling you about,” she continued, her voice still sickly sweet. “She enjoyed your little performance so much she passed out.” Then she tossed back her hair and laughed as I stared at her in disbelief.

A speedball mixture of humiliation, confusion, hurt, and rage surged through me. I started shaking, my cheeks blazing red, tears welling in my eyes.

“Is that right, Poppy?” Noah asked. His voice sounded controlled, like he was trying not to laugh. “Did you pass out? Was I that good? Am I that gorgeous?”

I took a deep breath, counting like I had been taught to, and slowly forced myself to look at him.

Looking at him, it appears, was a mistake. He was just outstandingly…yum – like someone you would see on television. His eyes burned into mine and my lungs deserted me. I could feel the walls closing again and forced myself to breathe. I gulped for air as he eyed me curiously. I knew I was supposed to reply but I couldn’t. The world had turned hazy again. My heart was still thumping; a fresh wave of sweat broke out across my body. I couldn’t take my eyes off his. Oh my God, he was going to think I was a total freak. Why did Ruth do this to me? What was her problem? Then the anger arrived, like a late dinner party guest, and it pushed away any other emotion I was feeling.

I opened my mouth to speak.

“Actually,” I said, spitting the words out, full of aggression, “I didn’t pass out.” I fixed my eyes on his. “I suppose you’re used to girls losing consciousness whenever you even look at them, and therefore assume you’re responsible for my little…episode. But you’re wrong. And, to be honest, it’s weirdly cocky of you to even
imagine
you could be to blame. I suffer from panic attacks. It’s a common physiological problem I have no control over, keep very secret, and is, quite frankly, nobody’s business.” I turned to face Ruth, who was staring at me all agog. “It’s not something I like to share with the world…just my dearest friends,” I said, imitating her sickly sweet voice.

“Ruth, of course, knows about this. And when I was collapsing at the beginning of your set, she used it as an opportunity to take my place nearer the front row so she could hit on you. And, as my
real
friends held my hair back outside while I was sick,” I said, pointing towards an equally surprised Lizzie and Amanda, “she was elbowing her way to your side.”

I took more breath, refusing to let my courage subside until I’d finished.

“Anyway, I’m sure this is all very amusing to you both. Why don’t you just go off and enjoy how
hilarious
it is that Ruth’s stupid friend had a panic attack.”

I was quite certain I sounded mad, but the anger kept the words tumbling out of my mouth like sick.

“Anyway, on that note, I’m going to go home now. Ruth, in the future, can you please refrain from using my illness as a pulling method?”

I turned on my heels and made for the door, forcing myself not to break into a run. In one last moment of courage or madness – whatever you want to call it – I turned back and examined the stunned looks on their faces.

“Oh, and watch out,” I added. “She’s had chlamydia twice.”

And I flicked my head round and walked out into the night.

Dr. Anita Beaumont listened to her heels clacking on the polished floor as she made her way down the corridor to the laboratory. She was in a bad mood, a really bad mood. She’d already planned to take it out on her assistants. How dare they beep her on a Saturday? Didn’t they know how important she was? She’d given those idiots her beeper number for emergencies only. What could possibly be an emergency on a Saturday afternoon while she was having a manicure?

The click of her shoes echoed loudly, bouncing off the clinical white walls. They only had a skeleton crew at weekends and most of the building was empty. She held her swipe card to a wall and a door appeared from nowhere. She turned left through it, looking down at her half-finished nails and cursing herself for hiring that new assistant. He was much too eager to impress, too earnest. He was straight out of college and excited to be working somewhere so secret, so important – a place where he could make his childhood superhero fantasies a reality. He would soon realize how hard it was. He’d probably only beeped her to show off some minor accomplishment so she could pat him on the head and praise him like a schoolkid. What was his name again? It was something ridiculous. River? No, that wasn’t it. Storm? Nope. Oh yes, she remembered with a wry grin. Rain. His name was Rain, poor guy. His parents used to be hippies apparently.

Dr. Beaumont reached the end of the corridor and faced another security door. She held her card up again and a computer keyboard slid out from another hidden compartment. She quickly keyed in the password – smiling to herself as she tapped out the letters. S…O…U…L…M…A…T…E.

A blue laser took a retina scan before the security door glided open. She walked briskly into the lab.

“I hope this isn’t a huge waste of my time,” she called. “Now who the hell is going to get me a coffee?”

Rain and another assistant appeared before her.

“Hi, Anita.” Rain could barely contain the excitement in his voice.

She glared at him. “My name’s Dr. Beaumont. Where’s the coffee?”

The other assistant ran towards the kitchen while Anita approached the computer bank, with Rain trailing after her.

“So what did you drag me here for?” She bent over the largest computer and typed another password in. “It’d better be good.”

Rain grabbed a stool and sat next to her, encroaching too far into her personal space for her liking.

“Oh, it’s good.” His smile stretched right from one side of his face to the other. “The reading came in less than an hour ago.”

The other assistant arrived with coffee. Anita grabbed it out of her hands before batting her away.

“What reading? On which machine?”

“The matchmaker. What else?” Rain always delighted in calling it that. Although now was no time to enjoy a good pun.

Anita was shocked. “You mean there’s been a…?”

“A connection between two matches.” Rain nodded. “Quite a big one.”

Her manicure was instantly forgotten. “Show me.”

Rain started jabbing coordinates into the keyboard and brought up a graph on the monitor. To the uninformed eye it looked like a seismogram, showing the impact of an earthquake. A green line travelled steadily across the screen before exploding into a flurry of ups and downs, like a toddler’s scribble.

Anita felt a slight stab of guilt for doubting Rain’s ability. He was right to have beeped her.

“Wow.” She stared at the screen. “It’s huge.”

Rain looked delighted at her response.

“Have you been able to pinpoint the location?”

“Not exactly. Looking at the coordinates, I think it’s definitely in Europe. At a guess I would say France, maybe Germany or the UK.”

Anita traced the green line on the screen with her finger.

“It starts and stops so violently. Whoever they were, they obviously didn’t stay in the same place for long…thank God,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“I thought that too. I don’t think they met each other. They might’ve just ridden the same bus or something.”

Anita thought about it. “How…romantic.” Her lip curled slightly.

“So what do we do?”

She stood up and drained her cup of coffee.

“You were right to beep me. I think we’ve narrowly avoided something potentially catastrophic. What’s important though, is that we avoided it. I’m quite sure it’s a one-off. Fate just messing with us.”

Rain nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

He was annoying her again. Smug jerk.

“Just keep an eye on all possible locations for the next week or so. Let me know if another reading comes up. I doubt it will.” She tried to ignore the instinctive shiver rippling down her spine. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t.”

Then she turned on her heels and walked out of the lab.

It didn’t take long for the tears to come. As I stormed home I could feel them streaming down my cheeks. I couldn’t tell if they were tears of rage or humiliation. What had I been thinking? Normal people don’t have emotional outbursts like that. It wasn’t like I lived in a movie where the hero makes evil people recognize their wrongs just by delivering a dramatic monologue. This was real life. Reality. Mean people never worry about their misgivings and generally flourish. Whereas people like me keep their mouths shut, take the abuse, and waste their lives waiting for karma to arrive before sorrowfully realizing that it doesn’t exist.

What a night. I started to shiver, ignoring the looks I was getting from passers-by. I guess a sobbing teenager running alone in the dark isn’t something you see often. My phone was beeping manically in my bag but I chose to ignore it. I would deal with tonight’s fallout tomorrow, when I had the strength. I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Ruth’s face when I mentioned her chlamydia. And I had promised her so reverently I would never tell anyone. Oops.

As I got closer to home the streets got quieter and darker. The houses got further apart until, eventually, they all had their own moat of perfectly manicured lawn. My tears were beginning to subside, and the crying had calmed me.

You can’t change the past,
I told myself. Another little lesson from therapy.
So there’s no point in obsessing over it.

I tried not to think about Noah, but it proved difficult. I’d not reacted like that to a boy before. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, and my mind flashed to the first moment our eyes met. Maybe I was delusional but I was sure his eyes had found mine through the crowd. Like he was searching for me. Okay, definitely delusional, but it had felt that way. My heart began thumping like a nightclub bass beat just from thinking about it. So I did have a crush then. Well, that wouldn’t do. Especially as it had taken less than five minutes for him to reveal himself as a complete asshole. Imagine laughing at someone’s mental illness. Especially as Lizzie said he’d suffered from depression himself.

I turned the familiar corner into my road and dug in my bag for my keys. As I walked up the drive, I forbade myself to think about any of it until I was a tad more sober, less sweaty, and less emotional.

Dad was waiting for me in his usual spot. I dumped my bag on the living room coffee table, and he peered at me through his half-moon spectacles, lowering his newspaper.

“Good night, hon?”

“It was…” I paused for a moment. “…Okay.”

He coughed and folded his newspaper up neatly. Then he tapped the arm of his chair in invitation. “That bad, eh? Come on, tell me all about it.”

I kicked off my smelly ballet pumps and curled up next to him.

“Well,” I began, “I had another panic attack. That was pretty embarrassing.”

He raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. If my news upset him, he kept it to himself.

“And then Ruth told this guy I had passed out because I thought he was so good-looking. I think she was trying to impress him by making fun of me.”

Dad’s face didn’t register surprise. “Sounds like Ruth.”

“Yep, that’s her alright.”

He picked up the paper again. I squinted to see his page.

“So what’s going on in the world?” I asked, more out of habit than real curiosity.

Dad shook out the pages. “Oh, you know, the world is ending, etc., etc.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “Just another normal day then? Complete misery?”

He smiled. “Indeed.”

I watched him read, snuggling into the maroon woolly jumper Mum kept trying to put in the charity shop but he kept buying back because apparently Paul McCartney once wore the exact same one. Is it weird to say I loved the way my dad smelled? It was so comforting. So well known.

The thing is, I was a complete Daddy’s girl. His little princess. I was a “happy accident”, as my mum so adoringly put it. They weren’t expecting to have another child after my sister Louise, especially as late afterwards. And when she got married and moved away, I think it freaked them. My dad especially. So I was lavished with a lot of attention. And sometimes I wished I wasn’t, because I couldn’t imagine meeting anyone else who treated me as well as my dad did.

I started to get sleepy, but stayed nestled.

“I yelled at Ruth,” I said. “I told her off for using my panic attacks as a pulling mechanism.” I paused, wondering whether to continue. “And then I told the bloke she was trying to pull she had an STI.”

Dad was definitely surprised by that. He put his paper down again and stared at me.

“It’s such a mess,” I continued. “I don’t know what came over me. I was just so angry. She’s never going to talk to me again. And now this random bloke knows all about me. I’m so humiliated.”

I came to a stop and waited for his response, his wisdom to make it all better.

“So…” he said. “Just another normal day then? Complete misery?”

And despite myself, I laughed.

Waking up on a Sunday morning is supposed to be a pleasant experience. And for about the first five minutes, it was. The light streamed through my curtains and I happily savoured being warm and snugly in bed. Then, of course, I remembered what had happened. I jerked up and dived for my phone, which I had left buried in a discarded pile of last night’s clothes. Flicking open my screen, I saw I had nine missed calls: four from Lizzie, four from Amanda, and one from an unknown number.

I shouldn’t have run off like that. At the time it had seemed dramatic and important, but now I saw it was selfish and silly. They must’ve been worried. Angry as hell but still worried. I ran my fingers through my hair and sensed it was going to be a day for apologies.

The doorbell rang and I heard my mum answer it. Probably one of the neighbours asking to borrow some milk – it was that type of road. We had a neighbourhood watch scheme and street parties.

I was surprised when Lizzie stormed through my bedroom door, her face livid.

“So,” she said, “you’re alive then.”

I picked up a hoodie from my floor and quickly pulled it over my head. “Lizzie, I’m so s—”

She interrupted me. “If you’re going to apologize for your hysterical outburst last night, then don’t.”

My stomach relaxed in relief.

“It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The look on Ruth’s face. And Noah’s. Priceless. Okay, the whole thing was a tad overdramatic, but you bloody well had a right to do it. Although I think you’re absolutely mental. Taking on Ruth? You’re braver than I gave you credit for.”

“So Ruth is…?”

“Absolutely furious, of course. Do you blame her?”

“No,” I squeaked. “And you?”

“Let’s just say you’re not my favourite person this morning. Why the hell did you run off like that? And not even bother answering your phone? You could’ve been hit round the head with a hammer for all we knew.”

“I’m sorry, Lizzie.”

She smiled. “Yeah well, by the time it got to midnight and we hadn’t had a frantic call from your neurotic mother, I assumed you’d made it home unscathed.”

I patted the empty space next to me and she sat down.

Good. I was forgiven.

“So what happened after my dramatic exit then?”

Lizzie shuffled herself back on the bed so she was leaning against the wall. “Oh, it was brilliant. Amanda and I were trying to contain our hysterics while Ruth went schizo. Of course we had to nod furiously when she told us what a conniving bitch you were.”

“Great, thanks.”

“Ha ha. She’ll get over it…eventually.”

“Is this whole thing going to make things awkward…you know…between the group?”

She waved her hand vaguely. “Nah, it’ll be fine. I figure you’re even stevens. What she did was pretty low and you trumped her. I think even she realizes she took her seduction technique a bit far this time. Poor Noah.”

My body spasmed at the sound of his name but luckily Lizzie didn’t notice. As casually as I could, I said, “So what did he make of it all?”

She paused.

“Bless him,” she said. “He looked like he’d been smacked in the face. Don’t think the poor bloke is used to being spoken to like that. God, he was fit, wasn’t he? Didn’t I tell you?”

I nodded, frustrated we had gone off track. “Yes, very gorgeous. Well done, Mystic Meg. So…what did he do next?”

“Ooooo,” she cooed. “You’re keen, aren’t you?”

I flushed red. “Shut up.”

“Ha ha. Poppy’s got an uber-crush,” she said, elbowing me in the side.

“Yeah yeah, very funny. Okay, so there’s a man in Middletown whose face doesn’t resemble hell. It doesn’t mean I’m in love with the guy.”

I wasn’t, was I? I couldn’t be. Shut up, thoughts.

“I believe you, thousands wouldn’t. He’s a nice guy actually…”

My mouth fell open. “Lizzie! How can you say that? After he laughed at me and my panic attacks?”

“No he didn’t. He just thought you’d fainted. He was mortified when he found out the real reason, kept asking me for your number so he could apologize.”

I swear my heart stopped beating. “He did?”

“Yeah. He kept insisting until I gave it to him.”

The unknown number on my phone. It must have been him. I blushed again but crossed my arms stubbornly.

“Yeah, well, why would I want to talk to him?” I said in a sulky voice.

“Jesus bloody Christ, Poppy. I swear you’re crazy. God, if he was calling me I would lick the phone.” She leaned back against the wall and fanned her face with her hands.

“And you’re calling me crazy? You’re the one who wants to dribble on a piece of technology.”

“Yeah well, I think he wants to make it up to you.”

The words triggered a warm gooey feeling. I quickly summoned the rational side of my brain. He wasn’t interested in me, just wanted to make peace. I supposed I could let him. But what if he
was
interested? I entertained the thought for a second – it made me quiver just thinking about it. His hand on the small of my back, those dark eyes locked on mine, the touch of his lips brushing mine…

Lizzie interrupted my fantasizing by standing up.

“Where you going?”

“I’m off to Middletown Lakes,” she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Umm…why?”

“I heard the council has drained one of the ponds too shallow by accident and some fish died. Mum saw it this morning when she was walking the dog. I thought I would go down and get some pictures and quotes and then try and flog the story to the
Middletown Observer
.”

Her ambition never failed to stun me. “Lizzie. It’s a Sunday. The day of rest.”

“The news never rests, my dear,” she said, acting like my mother and patting me on the head like a child. “You know that.”

“You’re mad,” I yelled as she strode out of the room.

“You smell,” her voice called back.

As I heard her footsteps descend the stairs, I leaned back into my pillows. I closed my eyes and Noah’s face appeared instantly. This had to stop. I was turning into an obsessive – I was beginning to scare myself.

“One more thing.”

I jumped and my eyes snapped open. Lizzie was peering round the door.

“Ring Ruth and make it up, will you?” she said. Then she disappeared before I even had the chance to protest.

I eventually got up, showered and pottered about – the usual mild hungover Sunday activities. Every so often I examined my phone, but the blank screen stared back at me. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted Ruth to call. Or Noah. Or both. Or neither.

After nearly a day of driving myself insane I decided to get out and pulled on my trainers.

As I stepped outside I knew I’d made the right decision. Much as I despaired of where I lived, I couldn’t deny its luscious lawns and green-belt land were beautiful. My phone felt lighter in my pocket as I walked to the common. I passed several middle-aged neighbours, squatting in their front gardens, bums out, eagerly tending to their immaculate flower beds or topiary hedges. Some children were playing on their bikes in the road, which was always clear of traffic at the weekend. Massive cars sat hibernating in everyone’s double driveways, resting before the perilous school run on Monday morning.

I turned a sharp left into a slightly overgrown alleyway, the trees on either side forming a green tunnel. I’d walked this path so many times I knew exactly when to raise my legs to avoid stinging nettles. The path got steeper and I pulled off my jumper and tied it round my waist – hoping like mad that no one would see my fashion crime. Eventually I emerged into startling daylight. I was here. My favourite place.

To anyone but me, it wasn’t anything special. Just a clearing where dog walkers exercised their pedigrees and a meeting place for fourteen-year-olds to drink a bottle of cider together and dry hump. But I loved it here for several reasons. Firstly, the view. The clearing overlooked the whole town, making everything look tiny, like Toytown. Any silly problem my brain manufactured would relinquish its hold the moment I sat down on the lone bench and looked out. I could see the local airport’s landing strip in the distance, miniature planes stuffed full of people landing and taking off.