‘I know. I have your number saved.’
‘Could . . . could we maybe catch up again? Maybe? Could we?’
‘I’d like that.’ Kelly’s voice gives nothing away. I hear the rustling of paper. ‘I could meet you near Sutherbend on the weekend . . . or you could meet me near work for lunch.’
‘Where do you work, again?’
‘Lockwood.’
‘I can meet you there. I can get the train . . . I could get on the train in an hour.’
‘Alright,’ says Kelly. She gives me the address and I go home and get out a street directory to look up how to get there. Not far from the station. I take a deep breath and then head to the shower.
***
Kelly meets me in the foyer of a big, glass-fronted building. I wonder whether I should hug her; a handshake seems too formal. She doesn’t make a move to touch me. She pushes her dark hair back behind her ears and holds her wallet with both hands.
‘There’s a café across the road,’ she says.
‘Cool,’ I say. I wonder if I’m encroaching too much. Did she only agree because I caught her by surprise? I follow her across the road, a few steps behind her. This time, I’m not going to have a list of questions.
The café is a tiny, hipster place with scrubbed wooden tables and mismatched chairs.
‘The focaccias are good,’ she says, settling into a seat by the window.
‘I’ll have the tomato one,’ I say, pulling out my wallet.
‘I’ll pay,’ she says, and I try to remember who paid last time, but I can’t. I really only remember how Kelly had looked at me. And the feeling of Mum’s arm around me as we both sat out in the gutter.
‘Thanks,’ I say.
‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘Nah. Mum doesn’t let me. Thinks caffeine’s . . . bad . . .’ I trail off and fiddle with the menu. Really, Mum doesn’t care that much about caffeine. It’s just I’d read too many scary articles about it to let myself get addicted. I didn’t want to get addicted to anything, not ever. But I can’t tell Kelly any of that. Not yet, anyway.
‘A hot chocolate, then?’
‘Thanks,’ I say.
Kelly puts her phone on silent and goes up to the counter. I watch her. Every part of her is neat and uncreased. Even her high heels aren’t scuffed.
When she comes back to the table I look down at my lap. ‘Listen, I just wanted to say – if I’d known about the letters, I would’ve called you way sooner.’
She goes very still. ‘You would’ve?’ she asks, her voice suddenly very small.
‘I would’ve. Yeah. I was mad at my mum about it, but I think she genuinely was just trying to do what was best for me. She’s always been pretty protective. And maybe it’s worked out for the best – I mean, it might be hard to imagine, but I’m a lot less weird than I was a few years back.’
‘I’m sure she thought it was the right thing to do,’ Kelly says, her voice careful, and I get the feeling that she’s not that impressed with my mum. Not that I entirely blame her for that.
I study Kelly as much as I can without being creepy. It’s hard to see how I can be related to her, let alone be her daughter. I prod at my menu, feeling suddenly hopeless.
‘What did you do for Christmas?’ I ask.
‘Pardon?’
‘I was just wondering what you did for Christmas.’
‘I had lunch with my sister. We ate our bodyweight in oysters and then I needed a nap.’
‘Well, we had lunch . . . my parents and sister. And some friends.’
‘Right.’
I clear my throat. ‘I’ve got a job at a pub. And I thought Christmas would be a bit of a bummer, but everyone at Fairyland had a bit of a party and it was actually kinda cool.’
Kelly frowns. ‘Fairyland?’
‘Fairyland. It’s a caravan park. It’s not permanent or anything.’
‘You live at a caravan park?’ Kelly blinks. ‘Hang on . . . is that the one that had the meth-lab explosion a while back?’
‘The guy’s not there anymore and I think he’s an anomaly. And it’s not like our place is a caravan – it’s got bedrooms and things. And a bathroom. With a shower.’
We eat in silence, and when we finish Kelly pushes her plate aside and looks out the window.
‘I was meaning to call you,’ she says. ‘I just hadn’t quite gotten up the nerve yet.’
The idea of her needing to get up the nerve to call me is nonsense; ridiculous. But she doesn’t look like she’s mocking me.
‘I just wanted to let you know that . . . I’ve got a spare room.’
For a moment, I feel a flicker of anger. It seems like bragging. Then I realise where she’s going with this and I sort of hold my breath.
She dabs at her mouth with her napkin and folds it down on the table. ‘I’d like to get to know you, properly,’ she says. ‘I haven’t talked to your mum or anything, but I thought – if she’s okay with it, and your dad, too – that you might like to stay with me for a few weeks.’
I stare at her. She’s so self-contained, so elegant. She’s so utterly unfamiliar to me. The idea of her inviting me into her home seems completely unreal.
I open my mouth to refuse, then I think about Clem refusing to kiss me. I think about Taylor weeping and Mum resting her head in her hands and Dad trailing around and around Fairyland, calling Taylor’s name. I think of Matthew and the way nobody reacts when his house is full of the sound of things breaking and angry yelling that spills out into the rest of Fairyland. I nod, my throat suddenly thick. I know my mum’s going to see it as abandonment, but I can’t keep saving other people. ‘I’d love that,’ I whisper.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We eat sugary cereal for dinner that night after I met Kelly for lunch in Lockwood. Dad lies out in his hammock and Taylor and I sit in the annex with Mum.
‘It’s too hot in here,’ Taylor says, fanning herself. ‘It’s humid. We should open up the door.’
‘The mozzies’ll come in,’ Mum says.
‘Well, we need the fan on, then.’
Mum doesn’t look up. ‘There’s a breeze.’
‘There’s not! It’s too hot.’
‘Well, stop whingeing! Go plug it in, then,’ Mum snaps.
Taylor goes into the living room and I swirl the milk around in my bowl. ‘I saw Kelly,’ I say.
Mum slowly picks up her spoon. ‘You did?’
‘Yeah. Today. I met her for lunch.’
‘Lunch? Where?’
‘Lockwood. I had a focaccia.’
Mum frowns. ‘You went to Lockwood?’
‘Yeah. I just said.’
‘Without telling me?’
‘I go down there with my friends all the time!’
Mum sighs. ‘I don’t get this, love. I just . . . I didn’t think you wanted to see her again.’
‘Well, I changed my mind.’ I put down the spoon. ‘She said I could stay there for a while. To get to know me.’
‘Right. In Lockwood.’
I grit my teeth. Mum has a smudge of milk on her cheek and I really, really want to wipe it away. ‘Obviously.’