Undeniable (12 page)

He’s right – it does get rid of my headache.

Afterwards he slides behind me and puts his arm round me.

‘That was more than strictly friendly,’ I say.

‘All part of the service,’ he says, sort of into my hair.

‘You’re just my tour guide though,’ I say. ‘Don’t go getting above yourself.’ He can’t see how much I’m smiling.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

We spend the rest of the night curled up together. We just sort of fit. I don’t sleep for ages because millions of things are buzzing round my brain, but mainly I want to stay in this
moment for as long as possible.

Spencer’s gone when I wake up. And for a moment my heart plunges in my chest. Then I spot a note on the pillow. He’s drawn a cup of tea on it.

It is a bit of a shock to look in the mirror and see how monumentally rough I look this morning. Then I remember the mugs of wine. At least I have an excuse for looking a bit corpsey. I
don’t have any make-up with me, so Spencer will just have to deal with it. It’s best he sees my morning face now really, just so he doesn’t get a shock in the future. Assuming
there is going to be some sort of future. I can’t just pretend nothing happened last night, can I? Or that it wasn’t a big deal.

This is going against my rules. I want to keep it fun. No thinking. If I want to run downstairs and kiss him now, that’s what I'll do. I don’t need to go all
Dawson’s
Creek
and analyse everything.

I pop my head round the banister and peer into the kitchen on my way down the stairs. Spencer is on the phone and holding what looks like a business card. He’s speaking too quietly for me
to hear anything.

‘Who was that?’ I ask when he hangs up.

He laughs in a bit of a shocked way. ‘Don’t be nosey.’

That’s pretty annoying. I thought we’d begin the day kissing and saying nice things to each other, not with secret phone calls. He passes me a tea, like that will distract me.
Actually, it does a bit.

Maybe if I kiss him he will tell me. I put my cup down on the table and go over to him, slipping my arms around his neck.

He steps back and moves away from my mouth, sloshing his tea over his hand in the process.

I pull my arms away quickly. Flashes of panic are starting in the pit of my stomach. I hope I haven’t just made an awful mistake.

‘Gabi.’ He fixes me with a look I can’t read. ‘Did you know you talk in your sleep?’

That throws me. The panic dies down slightly, but I still have no idea what is going on. ‘Yeah, M— A couple of people have mentioned it.’

He frowns into his tea. What did I say? I know I’ve said, ‘Max, I love your sexy body,’ a couple of times when I’ve been in bed with Mia. She only really minded when I
put my leg over her at the same time. And once some stuff I said traumatised Mia’s little brother Matthew when we were on that family camping trip. It can’t be worse than that.

He’s not grinning like I said something funny, though. He’s frowning into his mug

‘You said, “I love you, Max”.’

The words hit me like a block of ice in the chest.

He finishes off the tea in one go and turns away towards the sink.

‘You should hear some of the stuff my friend Nish does in her sleep.’ My voice is coming out all sing-song. ‘I’m nothing compared to her.’

His mug clangs on the bottom of the sink and he walks back towards me. ‘Yeah? What does she do, then?’ He smiles.

And with that he lets me off the hook.

Spencer had to go to a meeting so I walk back to the station on my own.

I can’t help what I say in my sleep, can I? There’s no point in feeling weird and guilty about it. And Spencer and I aren’t even properly together. It was just a bit of fun.
Friends with benefits. All that stuff about liking him was just the alcohol playing tricks on my brain.

I don’t really have the money to keep calling France, so send Mia a text instead.

I kind of wish that I had got to speak to her properly. I’m making out like it wasn’t a big deal. And like the sleep-talking thing was funny. I think I’ll call home, though not
to tell them about Spencer, obviously.

It is Saturday so Dad will be making bacon bagels. He gets a bit annoyed that Millie and I just ask for bacon bagels all the time because he can cook loads of amazing food. Julia should totally
think of employing him at Radleigh, if he didn’t have his job selling pipes or walls or whatever, that is. The pulled pork thing he makes is tons better than the one they do. But on the other
hand, you can’t beat a bit of bacon.

I am not as bad as Max though. The time he came round for dinner and told my parents that he liked eating Chow Mein Pot Noodles with ketchup, I think Dad almost stabbed him with a fork.

‘Hello?’ goes a voice.

Oh, no. I’ve got Millie on the landline.

‘It’s me, can you put Mum on?’

‘Ugh, you smell.’

‘Shut up, ugly. Put Mum on.’

‘I can, like, smell you from here.’

‘Shut up.’

‘It’s like you’ve pooed yourself.’

‘What have you been doing? Missing me?’

‘I changed Dad’s Facebook status to say you were covered in hair.’

‘I know.’

‘Okayluvyabai.’

‘Wait! What about Dad? Can I speak to him?’

‘Dad’s mental again. He’s baking a wadload of cakes.’

‘Don’t say wadload!’

‘Okayluvyabai!’

She hangs up. Argh! She is so annoying. Next time we play the fighting game, I am really going to hurt her. I say ‘game’, but it’s just me and her fighting, really. With
weapons. I think Mum and Dad were a bit disappointed that we didn’t just play with the dolls and stuff.

My phone rings. It’s home. I hate my sister.

‘Piss off, you knob.’

‘Gabi?’

‘Oh, hi Dad!’

Talking to Dad was like being wrapped in a big warm blanket. He asked me all about the job and kept saying how impressive it was, even though I was mostly talking about coffee
and photocopying. When I told him I might have the chance to do something different, he said, ‘Ooooh,’ and asked what sort of thing. I said probably looking at trends and things. He
said, ‘Ooooh,’ again because I don’t think he knew what I was on about.

He was telling me about his job. He’s back at work now after his break and apparently Sue Someone placed the wrong order and Jacqui Something was going to tell her off but couldn’t
because of her hyperactive thigh. I think that’s what he said. Dad’s job is very boring, but he likes to talk about it a lot and we all pretend to listen, except Millie, who tells him
to stop boring her. Because she is fourteen. And a demon.

When I told him about the girls visiting and us going to a house party he paused for a moment, before saying, ‘No boys.’

‘Dad!’

‘You should focus on the summer. And your friends. Don’t bother with men – they’ll only annoy you.’

‘Should I tell Mum not to bother with you, then?’

‘Oh, I annoy your mum all the time. I mean it, though. You should have a break after Max. Focus on you.’

I told him that boys were the last thing on my mind, and ignored the tiny bubble of guilt at the lie as I thought of last night.

I also asked if he wanted to come visit me in London, but he said it wasn’t a good time at the moment, so I made him promise to make and send me a bacon bagel. He didn’t technically
agree, but I told him if he really loved me, he would find a way.

When I hang up, I look around and have no idea where I am. I’d wandered off from Spencer’s and have ended up on a bridge over a canal. It’s pretty, though, with a golden glint
on the water from the sunrise.

I stand there staring down at the water for a while and think how difficult it is to sort one thought from another.

I want to see him but at the same time I want to run away.

Shooting starts at midday, so it doesn’t really seem worth going back to Granny’s. I text her saying I will see her tonight. Her reply doesn’t make any sense
and is mostly nonsense words, because I think she is texting while out on a run. I wonder what people with no friends do in London.

When I arrive on location, Spencer is already there. He is talking to Heidi and the director, Mark. I am sure his eyes flicker in my direction as I go past, so I wave, but he seems not to have
seen me. Why is he even here? He filmed his line the other day. I know he’s in the background for lots of scenes, but still.

At my desk (a bit of shelf where I put my things) there’s a note waiting for me.

Well, that’s rude. And wrong. How hard is it to spell Gabi? And who writes
Regards
on a Post-it? And I don’t have any paper cups. God, I want to kill
people.

Then I see Angry Skull milling about outside, talking to Heidi and a woman I’ve seen a few times, who I think is one of the writers. Spencer is still over there, and it looks like he is
being handed a script. He must have given Heidi my name, though not the additional brain cells to spell it. I want to talk to Angry Skull about the more interesting things I might get to do. Would
he think it was bad if I didn’t provide paper cups for his star actress, though? It could come across as if I was deliberately injuring her hands. There must be something I can do.

The square outside the main university buildings seems to have some sort of Saturday market. As I head on over, it looks promising, though I must not get distracted by the smell of meat. I walk
through, absorbing the hum of chatter interrupted by fizzing and sizzling from the stalls. There are olive stalls, stands piled high with cheese, a man selling bacon bagels – a whiff of that
one nearly wipes all thoughts of my cup mission from my mind.

The aroma of coffee beans keeps poking through all of the other smells and eventually I track down the stall it’s coming from. The man standing behind it looks only a bit older than me.
His nametag says
Felix
and so I am guessing he is Spanish. He also looks Spanish and the stall is called A Taste of Spain. Could I tell him it is a strange English custom to give free paper
cups to women?

‘Excuse me,’ I say, loudly and slowly.

‘Yes, madam?’ he says. In a London accent. I won’t be able to fool him with made-up English traditions. I’ll have to just ask.

‘Could I borrow one of your cups?’

‘Will you bring it back?’

‘No.’

He laughs. ‘Then you can
have
one of my cups. Can I ask why?’

‘I’m working on the TV show filming over there. I have to give people coffee and someone says that plastic cups injure her hands.’

I show him the note.

‘So you’re . . . Gabie?’

‘I’m Gabi, without the “e”. I didn’t think it was that tricky to spell. Although once when I got a coffee at Starbucks they’d written what looked like
Nip
on it.’

He laughs again and hands me a stack of paper cups and plastic lids for them. I shove them into my handbag, checking the time on my phone. Shooting won’t have started yet. It is good I
arrived early, even if the reason for it was that I have no friends and nothing to do.

‘Thanks so much,’ I say.

‘Wait a sec,’ Felix replies and I see he’s started making a coffee. He steams the milk, puts the lid on and holds it out to me. ‘And this one’s for you. Tell your
friends to come to A Taste of Spain.’

‘I don’t have any friends.’

‘Oh.’ The pause is awkward.

‘But when I do make some, I will tell them!’

‘Great!’ He looks relieved – probably that I am leaving.

I hurry back out of the square, across the road and into the campus. The same group are still standing there talking. Heidi sees me.

‘Oh, you got my note. Great!’ She gives me a huge grin. Then she reaches for the nice coffee with the steamed milk. I keep hold of it just a second too long, but she gives a firm tug
and then she has it. I catch Spencer’s eye. For a moment my heart leaps, getting a brief image of last night, but the feeling falters a bit when I think of the morning.

‘Thanks,’ Heidi chimes in and winks at me.

‘Gabi.’ It’s Angry Skull talking. ‘Do you have five minutes? I thought I’d set up some meetings for you.’

Spencer shifts from one foot to the other and looks down. I am sure I see a frown cross his face.

‘Yes, sure.’ I try to stop thinking about what Spencer is doing and focus. ‘I just have to make the drinks, so after that?’

‘I can talk to you while you do that. Lead the way.’

As he follows me into the university building, I hear Heidi’s voice ring out behind me.

‘Why does my cup have
Nip
written on it?’

It was another one of mine and Max’s stupid arguments about nothing. We always had them. Like the time I told him he put his socks on in a really annoying way and he
shouted, ‘I literally don’t know what you mean!’ Or when he was in a bad mood because he fell over putting his trousers on and I couldn’t stop laughing, even though he hit
his head on the floor and it ‘could have been really serious’. But this argument didn’t feel like it was about nothing.

I’d invited him round for a night in together. My parents were out and we were going to cook dinner. Rosie had been out on a date with this guy who’d taken her out to dinner and
they’d got all dressed up and it was really romantic. So I told Max we needed to do something nice, because we never bothered doing anything except watching TV and playing
Call of
Duty
. Max kept saying that I should be taking it easy after all the family stuff that happened and stop trying to organise things, but I told him not to be stupid. I was fine.