The Boy I Loved Before (27 page)

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Authors: Jenny Colgan

BOOK: The Boy I Loved Before
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‘I wasn't lying, Steph, I promise.' He looked absolutely wretched. ‘But my family needs me.'
‘My family needs me,' she mimicked, staring hatefully at me. ‘Right. And plain old Stephanie will be just fine. Of course. I'll just go home and drink a pint of tequila and take the sleeping pills on my own, shall I?'
‘Stephanie,' I said, moving forward.
She showed a residual flash of anger. ‘Don't talk to me, you little witch. OK, you won, with your boo-hoo eyes. Don't need to fucking gloat. You've got your whole life ahead of you. And you've left me with nothing. Hope you're proud of yourself.'
‘He would have left us for you,' I said to her, and meant it. ‘I promise. He would have. If I hadn't bugged him so much. He did love you.'
She sniffed heavily.
‘And my mum. I had to do it for my mum.'
She looked from me to Dad.
‘Oh, fuck it all,' she said, and pushed out of the room.
 
 
My dad was actually crying. And he kept saying sorry, over and over again. I hated it and didn't know how to get him to stop.
‘You've done the right thing,' I said. ‘You have. I promise. You'd have been unhappy later.'
He looked at me. ‘I'm unhappy now.'
‘Well, talk to Mum about it. Do something about it. Nobody promised middle age was going to be a walk in the park, did they?'
He looked at me through red-rimmed eyes. ‘You know, Flora Jane …'
Whatever he was about to say, he changed his mind. Instead he sank down on to a chair. ‘Let me tell you something about being a grown-up.'
And I gave him a hug. Just a small one, just enough to let him know everything wasn't entirely lost.
 
 
I left him there – I couldn't face it, and he had to go and see Mum on his own.
Outside, the car was gone. Stanzi was sitting on the kerb of the road, looking more petulant than ever.
‘Where's Tashy gone?'
‘Your made-up guidance counsellor went off with a man,' she said. ‘For no reason. Just to be mean to Stanzi and say everyone has man, even dried-up old lady.'
‘Who?' I said, surprised.
‘Fat. Bald. Old.'
I creased my eyes. ‘Her dad?'
‘Maybe,' Stanzi shrugged.
‘Did she know him? You didn't let my b—' I nearly said best friend. ‘You didn't let my friend get abducted, did you?'
‘I think unless very perverted, abductor would want me first.'
‘Didn't she offer to take you?'
‘Yes. I say no thank you. I care about you. I wait for you.'
‘Ah,' I said. ‘The thing is, I really need to go somewhere …'
My feet couldn't carry me fast enough. I dashed through the streets, tripping over my stupid, stupid wedge heels. When I got my hands on some money, the first thing I was going to do was buy myself a better pair of these fucking shoes. Please let him be in. Please. I had wanted to talk to him, I always had, and I had to say sorry.
Justin opened the door.
‘Hey,' he said, a mixture of confusion, fear and pleasure passing over his face. His hair was wet, so he must have been just out of the shower. Probably staring in the mirror, prodding at things, if my remembered teenage life was anything to go by.
I stopped short, suddenly feeling bashful and shy. ‘Hi,' I said, staring at the ground.
He looked ruefully at me. ‘Sorry about the other day. John's a dick. He thinks I'm still nine years old.'
‘He can't help that,' I said. ‘Actually, is he here? I wouldn't mind a quick word, if that's alright.'
Justin looked a bit perturbed at this. ‘Why?'
I had to make something up.
‘Oh, my mum asked me to give him something. It's boring. Grown up – some recipe or shit.'
‘Oh.'
He didn't look entirely convinced, but it would have to do for now.
‘Um, yeah. S'pose. He's just watching the football. But do you want to … go for a walk or something? My mum won't let me borrow the car. But they're out. So we could …'
‘Why won't she let you borrow the car?'
‘Doesn't matter. Actually, I'm a very good driver.'
‘I'm sure you are,' I said, smiling. ‘Maybe later?'
He stared at me for a while longer, then obviously remembered himself.
‘Want to come in then?'
‘Thanks,' I said nervously. I stepped over the threshold carefully.
‘JOHN!' shouted Justin. But he was already there, standing darkly shadowed in the hallway.
‘What do you want?' he said gruffly.
‘Um, my mum says we have to … talk,' I said.
He looked stupefied. How come the teenager could see through such an obvious ruse and the adult was just padding around?
 
 
We sat in the kitchen, at the back, looking out on to the autumn leaves drifting across the garden. Justin hovered around, trying to listen in, but Clell told him to scram and
soon he was back in the front room, happily shouting at the television football.
‘I'm really sorry,' I said first.
Clell was up spooning coffee into mugs. ‘No filters, I'm afraid,' he said gruffly. ‘My parents don't believe in 'em. Milk and two, still?'
‘No,' I said. ‘Just water, please.'
‘Don't be a fucking coffee snob!'
‘OK. White and two. And by the way, before, when you weren't listening. I said I'm sorry.'
The kettle popped off, and he started to pour water into two beige mugs with harvest corn patterns that were as old as his parents' marriage. He took his time carefully pouring out the water, added milk and sugar and set them down carefully on the table. Then he exhaled and pushed a hand distractedly through his thick black hair. I found it profoundly irritating. And a little bit sexy at the same time.
‘I heard you,' he said.
‘Good,' I said. ‘Perhaps now you can stop pretending you're Mickey Rourke in a film.'
‘Well, if I'm Mickey Rourke you're …' He thought for a minute. ‘Some incestuous child molester I can't think of at the moment.'
I stood up, flushing hot.
‘I came over here to talk to you,' I said. ‘Is that a waste of time?'
He stood up too.
‘OK. No. Sit down.'
I sat down. We played around with blowing on our coffee a lot. I started stirring the sugar in the bowl, smoothing it down like one of those Japanese rice gardens.
‘You and me,' I started, swallowing nervously, and trying not to look him in the eye in case I got blown off course completely. ‘It was a long time ago.'
‘I know,' he said.
‘I don't know why I never got over it.'
‘I didn't know you didn't get over it.'
‘I realise that.'
‘Until I saw you again.'
At first I thought he meant at the wedding. Then I remembered he'd never seen me at the wedding, because the wedding hadn't happened yet.
‘Because we've never met!' I exclaimed, realising suddenly.
‘Um …'
‘As grown-ups, I mean. In my head I think we've met as grown-ups so I assume you know certain things about me so you know … so you can see what I'm really like. But you haven't.'
‘I'm confused.'
‘We meet at the wedding. As adults.'
‘OK …'
‘You think I'm just this little lost girl who never grew up, trailing the streets looking for you.'
He looked uncomfortable.
‘You think I'm just some manifestation of arrested development.'
‘The thought had occurred to me.'
‘I'm not, you know! I'm a proper grown-up! I have a flat, and a life – a good life but now, you know now, you have no idea what it's like for me,' I said. ‘I'm performing every day of my life. Every day is a whole new test which I have no idea whether or not I'm going to pass or fail. I'm acting the entire
time. Almost no one has the faintest idea who I really am.'
Suddenly I felt I was going to cry. ‘I am the only person in my class who can even remember Britpop. I'm the only one who ever used francs or lira, or remembers life without a remote control, or mobile phones or email or satnav.'
‘Or what?'
‘I don't know! I don't even know what that is, but they keep talking about it!'
Clelland tore off a piece of kitchen roll and handed it to me. I thanked him and carried on.
‘I'm the only one who knows how to change a plug or make a fucking restaurant reservation. I'm the only one who … I'm the only one who's had their heart broken. You know …' I was openly sobbing now, those big painful ones that come from deep down. ‘Our history teacher was talking about 9/11. And she said had anyone been to the World Trade Center. And nobody had, because they were all fourteen years old and don't even remember it that well. Except I have. There's a picture of me there, and now it never existed. And I couldn't even say how much I loved it and how much we all cried. And I am so alone.'
Clelland was rubbing me on the back. ‘Ssh,' he said.
‘I'm not a little girl,' I said. ‘I'm not.'
‘No,' he said.
‘I'm caught between two worlds. Umm, Like Britney Spears. And I was looking for comfort. And I'm sorry.'
‘I know.' His mouth was very close to my ear. ‘I'm sorry about what I said.'
I made a strangulated noise.
‘You're not the only one who took a long time to get over it, OK?'
There was a sudden, perceptible change in the room. Justin was standing in the doorway, in his stocking feet, a bottle of Coke in his hand. He was looking at us, astonished.
‘What's going on?'
Clelland didn't react. He just kept looking at me.
‘You'll be growing up again soon then, won't you?' he said softly. ‘I'm sure everything will be fine. Now we've sorted that out.'
I gulped, hard. ‘Yes,' I said. ‘Yes.'
He checked his watch. ‘OK. I'm late for Madeleine. I …' He seemed about to say something about that, then didn't. ‘OK, well, um, will I tell Tash and Olly you've decided?'
‘To go back? I have to,' I said. ‘I can't bear it.'
He stood up, giving Justin and me a meaningful look. ‘You two behave yourselves.'
Then he left.
Justin continued looking puzzled. ‘Is he still giving you a hard time?' he said.
I nodded. ‘He's not so bad.'
‘He can be a right dick, my brother.' He offered me the Coke. I drank it, making heavy swallows. ‘He's making me come to this stupid bloody wedding thing on Saturday too. I don't even know these people.'
‘I'll be there,' I said.
‘Will you?' His face brightened momentarily, then briefly coloured. Justin hadn't quite learned proper diffidence yet.
In that moment I realised something, something I must have known all along. That I was leaving and I wanted to give him a gift. Something that would hold him in good
stead. Something he could use for ever. Something I'd never given his brother.
‘Come over here,' I said.
 
 
He felt so beautiful; so lean and strong. His body was almost hairless, and his surprise exceptionally comical. When I had not only accepted but welcomed his skirmishes at my breasts, his eyes had popped open, widened as I gently showed him exactly how I would like him to caress and squeeze them, and how I would like it to go.
‘God,' he sighed, and immediately I had felt him up against my leg. I pulled off his T-shirt, and I was going to take my bra off for him too, then realised that wouldn't be terribly helpful for him in the future. So I took his hands and guided them into unclipping the clasp. He would have lain us both down on the linoleum floor at this point – blind with need, there is very little he wouldn't have done at this point, I suspect – but I took his hand and guided us upstairs to his bedroom, which, as well as being comfortable and warm had the added bonus of giving us a few moments if anyone arrived back unexpectedly.
As Justin, his sweat smelling sweetly on his body, buried his soft curls in my neck, and I could feel his disbelieving hands roaming everywhere, I couldn't stop thinking of Clell and me, in this very same room. The same probing hands, but with me, anxious and uncomfortable, holding back, making us both embarrassed and frustrated and uneasy. I couldn't think about that, and I certainly couldn't think of what he might be like now. I had business to attend to.
‘What you're looking for,' I whispered tenderly in his ear,
‘it's here. Give me your hand.' And I guided it between my legs.
I laid back, revelling in the sweetness of my young body; feeling no urge to hide before his eyes, which were drinking me up like a dying man in a desert. I could tell what he was doing. He was desperately trying to imprint the sight of me on his memory banks in case he never saw another naked woman ever again.
‘Do you like it?' I asked teasingly.
‘You're … you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,' he stuttered.
I had never been the most beautiful thing anyone had ever seen. But I knew he would never forget me.
‘Come here,' I said. ‘Have you ever put a condom on before … ?'
 
 
I hadn't for a second thought that I would enjoy it. And I hadn't thought I would feel pain. But both things happened. I was so tight – and Justin so unbelievably hard – it took a little while to get everything arranged just so. But once we did, the fit was unbelievably snug and perfect, and the sheer joyful plunging enthusiasm of him, the feeling of his strong young muscles under my hands; his inability to keep from muttering his astonishment into my hair. It was all so different, so old and new at the same time, and as he came, hard and fast, I took off with him, and felt myself bite his shoulders, pull him in and, eyes tight shut, squealing as he let out a depthless cry somewhere between a sob and a roar.
 
 
He couldn't stop staring at me in some kind of wonder, as if I was a figment of his imagination.
I checked down the bed. ‘Look,' I said, in astonishment. ‘There's blood.'
His eyes widened. ‘Was that your first time?'
‘Erm, yes, obviously,' I said. ‘Not bad, eh? No wonder school keeps telling us not to do it.'
He leaned over. I was cradled in his arms.
‘It was my first time too,' he whispered confidentially.
‘Really?' I said. I snuggled into him, smiling that broad smile you get like a happy cat after sex. I kissed him on the chest.
‘It was special,' he said.
‘It was special to me too,' I said, propping myself up on one elbow and tracing his beautiful young chest with my fingertips.
He grinned. ‘Can we do it again?' Even as he spoke I could sense him rearing up under the covers.

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