Vintage (25 page)

Oh my god oh my god.

I'm going to die.

It's all over.

End of story.

I'll never get back.

The car screeches to a halt.

The bumper's close to my right arm.

I hold onto the puppy.

I'm shaking.

The puppy licks my face.

Marilyn ran back to the pavement, and it was her own pavement. Her own house was in front of her, with the fence and the plants in the front garden. The car drove on. The dog disappeared down the side road opposite.

A motorbike skidded to a halt on the other side of the road and Dave Richards got off. He pulled it onto the stand, and walked over. He wouldn't take any notice of her, he never did. She turned away, walked towards the wooden gate.

“You okay? Saw what happened with that car. I was coming back – to see you.”

Marilyn was so shocked she stood with her hand on the gate. This was Dave, who everyone fancied. And he was talking to her as if he knew her, as if he cared.

But everything had changed.

She turned to him and smiled. “At least the puppy's safe.”

He came up close. She didn't care if her mother was looking out of the window, didn't care about all the stories about Dave. He put his arms round her and she let him, let her head drop onto his shoulder.

“Go out again – on the bike?”

Holly had ridden on his bike? She couldn't have.

But she stopped herself. “Yeah, that would be great.”

She could get used to this. This and her life to come, university, the travelling, the sixties and seventies. There was no need to be afraid.

She was fine.

A big smile spread over her face.

She smelt the leather of his jacket, pulled him closer.

Kyle's out of the door of my house. He races across to where I'm sitting in the road. My arms round the dog.

And I'm okay. Shaking all over. But basically okay.

There's a huge jam of cars beeping. I'm wet. It's raining here too.

“Kyle, you're here!”

“Course I am, you only left me half an hour ago.”

“The dog – he's safe?”

“Looks fine to me. Where'd he come from?”

The puppy's warm and wet. There's no collar or lead. He slips out of my arms, makes a run for it across the road and disappears along the side street opposite.

Kyle stands up. Helps me to my feet and onto the pavement. The driver gets back in his cab. Starts it up. Drives off. The traffic moves on.

It's as if nothing ever happened. How can I ever explain it all?

“Let's get on with your project, I've found loads on 1962.”

“Me too. A different way. Kind of original. I've just got to write it all down.”

He gives me one of those Kyle looks.

I hug him tight.

He lets out a yell.

“Sorry, I forgot.”

“You only just left, remember?”

“No, but I haven't been here. I've been a long way away. I met this guy, Dave.”

“You're so changeable. Does that mean I can have the guy across the road?

“Saleem?”

“How come you know his name?”

“Marilyn told me.”

Come on. You can tell me all about it.”

“I'll try. Not that you'll believe me.”

I don't know where to start. Who would ever believe this?

We head back into the house. Mum's standing in the hallway. Looking like she means business.

“I want to check that cut on your arm, my girl. It could go septic.”

She reaches for my arm and pulls back the sleeve.

There's a cut, between the wrist and the elbow. Not deep. Healing over now. A few centimetres long. It wasn't there five minutes ago.

“Can I have the truth now? Did you get into a fight, Kyle? I can't believe the times we're living in.”

“I'm with you on that one, Mum,” I say. I go right up to her and give her a big hug.

She's in shock, I can tell. I haven't given her a voluntary hug for months. But she likes it.

And I'm seriously glad to see her, my mum.

Better than Marilyn's any day.

“I'm fine Mum, really. And how was your date? What was he like?”

“You met him this morning, at the coffee shop.”

I'm going to have to be careful here now, till I work out everything that's happened. “Looked great. It went well then, you two an item?”

“Hey, hold on, we've only just met.” She's looking coy.

Kyle's grinning like a madman. I see the purple eye. It looks painful.

“Let's get that makeup sorted. A bit of concealer will do it. Come on up, I'll do it for you. And Kyle?”

“What?”

“It's so good to see you. Really.”

“You having one of your turns again?”

Everything that's happened seems to be fading out, like it's going down a tunnel, or into a black hole. Now seems so solid, so real, so familiar. It can't have happened, it can't have, can it? Do I need to go and see the shrink?

All I know is, everything looks different. Feels different.

Better.

Even Mum.

It looks cool to me, being here.

We go upstairs. Kyle shows me the websites.

I'm laughing, it all looks so familiar now.

1962.

I look at the Warhol postcard on the wall. Of Marilyn.

And I do Kyle's face for him.

So he doesn't look like roadkill.