She forces a smile and says, ‘Of course you don’t. You’re covered in other people’s sweat though.’
He returns her smile and gives the back of her neck a small squeeze before getting to his feet. ‘Message received and understood,’ he says.
As he leaves the room and they listen to the sound of his bare feet heading up the stairs, Tallulah’s mum turns to Tallulah and says, ‘He’s a good boy. He really is. I’m so glad you’ve let him back into your life.’
Tallulah smiles tightly. She thinks,You didn’t see the look he gave me just now on the stairs. You don’t know how he looks at me when you’re not in the room; the way his voice sets hard like stone, his eyes bore through me like lasers. You really don’t know.
Scarlett is waiting at the bus stop on Monday morning.
‘Morning T from the B,’ she says, sliding along the bench a little to make room for her. ‘Happy Monday. You look tired.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Tallulah replies. ‘Are you going back to college?’
‘Hell, no,’ says Scarlett. ‘I’m here to see you.’
Tallulah’s eyes widen. ‘Why?’
Scarlett loops her arm through Tallulah’s and rests her head against her shoulder. ‘Because I missed you.’
Tallulah laughs drily. ‘Right,’ she says, casting her eyes across the street, towards her house, imagining eyes upon her and this blue-haired girl with her head on her shoulder.
Scarlett lifts her head and pulls her arm back, stuffing her hand into the pocket of her furry coat. She narrows her eyes at Tallulah and says, ‘Do you like me?’
Tallulah laughs again. ‘Of course I like you.’
‘But do you, you know,likelike me.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Scarlett sighs and blows out her cheeks. ‘Never mind,’ she says. ‘I’m just so fucking bored. So fucking bored.’
‘Why don’t you come back to college?’
‘Never,’ she replies.
‘But why? I’ve seen your work. You’re so talented. What happened? Why did you leave?’
Scarlett sighs, drops her head and then raises it again. ‘Oh, you know, juststuff.’
They both turn at the sound of the bus approaching from the other side of the village.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Scarlett says, getting to her feet. ‘Keep you company.’
Tallulah glances across the common again, towards her house. She feels very strongly that she’s being watched.
On the bus, they take the back seat. Scarlett squeezes close to Tallulah, who has the window seat. She keeps up a running, slightly hyperactive commentary about the scenery, about a smell on the bus (toenail cheese), about how much she likes Tallulah’s trainers (they were £19.99 from New Look), about how bored she is, how she misses her brother, hates her mother, wishes she had bigger breasts, wishes she had bigger teeth, a bigger nose, wishes she lived in London, hates her voice, misses making art, wants a puppy, wants a Sunday roast with all the trimmings. And Tallulah nods and smiles and thinks,Why are you telling me all this? Why are you sitting so close?
Finally, as they cross the roundabout and draw closer to town, Scarlett stops talking and turns to look from the window on the other side of the bus. Tallulah waits a few beats before saying anything. Scarlett’s like a cat, the sort that lets you tickle their stomach for quite some time before suddenly scratching you and running away.
She gently touches her arm and she says, ‘Are you OK?’
Scarlett shrugs and Tallulah notices a film of tears come to her eyes.
‘Oh, you know,’ she says, her voice cracking slightly. ‘Just your typical level-two fucked-up rich girl having a stupid crisis. Just ignore me. It’s best.’
‘What happened with your boyfriend?’ Tallulah asks, wondering if maybe Scarlett has a broken heart. ‘The one who’s at the Maypole?’
Scarlett shakes her head. ‘We finished,’ she said. ‘Just before Christmas.’