Текст книги "The House on Fever Street"

Автор книги: Celina Grace

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“With you?”

He suddenly grinned. “Definitely with me. How about it?”

Bella stuttered, groping for the right words.

“What – do you – do you mean – “

She almost couldn’t say it. It was too sudden, too unexpected. She must have got hold of the wrong end of the stick.

“You want me to – “

“Move in with me.” Jake finished her sentence for her, the smile almost cutting his face in two. “That’s exactly what I mean, sweetheart. So – what do you say?”

*

“You’re going to what?”

Mrs Hardwick sat down heavily on the sofa. Bella almost giggled, nervously, but stifled the sound in time.

“Did I hear you correctly?”

“You did.” Bella swallowed, tried again. “I’m want to – I’m going to go and live in London with Jake.”

“But – but – “ Mrs Hardwick mouthed wildly. “You hardly know him. And London – why London? Why now? For God’s sake, you couldn’t get out of the place fast enough the other week. What do you – my God, you watched the news with me the other day, Bella – you know what’s happening up there!”

Bella felt her temper going, slipping through her fingers like an oil-coated bottle. She made a grab for it.

“Mum – it’s – it’s hard to explain. I need to do this, I need to get over the – the fear.”

“What?”

“Don’t you see, Mum? If I don’t go back there I’ll never leave here, I’ll never be able to. I’ll just stagnate here, I’ll be too terrified to go anywhere, I’ll never be able to leave.”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic!”

Bella flinched. The bottle slipped through her clutching fingers and smashed on the floor.

“Don’t fucking tell me about being melodramatic! Were you there? Were you there in the tunnels, Mum? What the fuck do you know about how I’m feeling? What the fuck do you know about anything?”

“Don’t you swear at me, young lady – “

“Why the fuck not? Why not? You’re not listening to me anyway so what the fuck does it matter what I say?”

Some small part of Bella marvelled at what she was saying. She’d never spoken to her mother like this before, not ever. She’d never needed to.

Mrs Hardwick leant back against the sofa. Her eyes were aghast.

“Darling – “

Bella stood there, panting.

“What?”

Her mother had tears in her eyes.

“Is this about your father? Are you saying you want to live with him and – and you can’t bring yourself to tell me? Is that it?”

“No – it’s nothing to do with Dad – “

“Bella – “

“Mum!” Bella’s voice rose and she turned her head away, looking unseeingly through the window at the garden. A magpie flicked its chequerboard tail as it strutted across the lawn. The room filled with the sound of stuttering breath.

Mrs Hardwick fought for control and managed a tremulous smile. “Darling – Bella – it worries me, what you’re saying. I think you need help, darling. You’re not – you’re not in your right mind. You’ve been through a shock, a terrible shock, you need counselling – someone to talk to – “

“I’m fine,” said Bella automatically. She realised her fists were clenched and forced herself to relax them. Her temper drained away as suddenly as it had appeared. She felt close to tears.

“Darling – “

She interrupted her mother, but gently this time.

“Mum, it’s alright. I know what I’m doing. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.

“You’re not fine.”

“I am. Really, I am. Let me – Mum – let me sort myself out, okay? I need to sort myself out.”

“Bella – “

“Mum – “

Her tone was a warning but she managed to make the next word a soft one. “Darling Mum, please let me go. I need to go. It’s something I have to do for myself.”

Bella looked out the window again, waiting for her mother’s response. The magpie flicked its tail again and flew away, its wings a zebra flash against the softer, duller green of the lawn.

Chapter Four

 

“That the lot?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, is it or isn’t it?”

Bella considered. “There’s a bag of underwear and stuff and then that really is it.”

“God forbid we forget the underwear.” Jake let the cardboard box he was cradling slip from his grasp and fall to the hallway floor with a crash. “These books on the other hand – they can go fuck themselves.”

Bella smiled. “You did offer to take the heavy stuff.”

“I offer to do a lot of things that I then end up regretting. Come here.”

Jake pulled her into his arms and kissed her heavily. The kiss deepened and lengthened until Jake said, with a breathlessness in his own voice, “Any more of this and I’ll take you to bed. Fuck the move.”

“No, fuck me.”

Bella had never said anything so bold before. For a moment she almost shocked herself. It was being here, standing in the hallway of Fever Street, with her arms about her boyfriend – it felt as if her adult life was finally beginning. She felt greedy for it, for all the new experiences that London was sure to bring.

Whatever she felt, it had been the right thing to say to Jake. He said nothing but swept her up – Bella shrieked – and ran with her into the nearest room, the living room. They made frenetic love on the sofa, clothes half off and swathed around their ankles, Jake pumping away urgently, Bella pushing the encroaching cushions away when they fell over her sweaty face.

“I love you,” Jake gasped, his ribcage heaving.

“I love you too.” Bella said it automatically. Then she felt her eyes widen. She covered his face with kisses, wondering if her reply had been the truth. Did she love him? I do, she told herself fiercely. I do. She shoved at another cushion that threatened to smother her. They lay there, hotly entwined, feeling their breathing slowly returning to a normal pace.

“We’d better get dressed,” said Bella eventually, deciding to leave a discussion of those passionate declarations for another time. She pulled at her knickers, still looped around one ankle.

Jake lay back against the sofa. “I think I’ll stay like this, actually.”

Bella giggled, despite herself. “What happens if – if the others come home?”

At the mention of his brother, Jake stopped smiling. He bent down to yank at his jeans.

“They won’t be home for hours,” he said, in a tone that just missed the right, casual note. “They’ve gone to some festival in South London, God knows what – somewhere in Clapham. They won’t be home for hours.”

“Oh,” said Bella. She adjusted her bra straps. “I’m beginning to think they don’t exist.”

Jake frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh nothing.” She could see what she’d said had disconcerted him. “I just meant, you know, I haven’t met them yet. And I am going to be living in their house. You did – you did ask them if it was okay? I mean, they are okay with it, aren’t they?”

“You worry too much.”

Jake pulled her to her feet and kissed her again, lightly this time. She reached for him but he stepped back, shaking his head and grinning.

“Come on, Miss Insatiable. We’re never going to get this stuff unpacked if you keep trying to distract me with your feminine wiles.”

It was seven o'clock when they lugged the final splitting box up to Jake’s room. He phoned for pizza and he and Bella ate at the table, tearing at each damp red slice with their fingers and wiping the grease from their mouths with pieces of kitchen roll. Bella was so tired, she could feel her eyelids dragging themselves downwards. She put down a half-finished piece, rinsed her garlicky mouth with wine and said, “I think I’m going to have to go to bed.”

Jake grinned. “Great.”

“Not for that, idiot. I’m really knackered though. I can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Well, if you feel that bad – “

He reached across and wiped a fleck of tomato sauce from her cheek and she turned her face into his hand, kissing the palm.

“I really am tired.”

“Off you go, then. Have a shower and crawl into bed. I promise I’ll try and keep my hands off you.”

“Just for tonight.”

Jake smiled. “Yes, just for tonight.”

Bella stood up, stretching and yawning. “It’s a shame, I was hoping to meet Carl and Veronica tonight.”

“Oh, they won’t be back for hours yet,” said Jake, quickly. He stood up too and began gathering up the shards of pizza crust and the crumpled tissues. “You’ll meet them in the morning.”

“I know– oh– oh..” A yawn broke the rest of Bella’s sentence. She kissed Jake, a longer, more lingering kiss than she first intended. She managed to pull herself away, reluctantly. Exhaustion was pulling her down into a grey pit.

She brushed her teeth in the bathroom for the first time, wrestled with the controls of the shower for the first time. She stood with her head bent forward, feeling the thunder of hot water against her aching shoulders. She couldn’t quite believe that this was now her house, the home she was going to live in. It still felt as if she’d come for a weekend visit, despite all the hauling of boxes and unpacking of suitcases.

Out in the corridor, she hesitated, still unsure of which bedroom was now hers – hers and Jake’s. Once she’d found it, she stood for a moment in the doorway, looking at the room that was now hers. It was messy and dusty and smelt of him. I'll soon clean this up, she thought. There was an old fawn-coloured carpet on the floor, patched here and there with darker stains. Dust lay in a pale grey line along the skirting board. There was a big double bed with a heavy, thickly carved headboard and a smaller, although no less ornate footboard.  A blue and white striped tie dangled from one corner. It must be Jake's although it seemed strange to think of him wearing it – Bella had only ever seen him in casual clothes. Thinking this made her realise just how little she knew him and how much there was left to discover. She felt a pulse of something that was half unease and half pleasurable anticipation. Other clothes of his were scattered all about the carpet, jeans, socks, a thick woollen jumper that looked so cuddly she nearly picked it up to do just that.

There was a chest of drawers, its surface piled high with slipping stacks of paper, and a large, dark wardrobe that stood in the corner. Bella's boxes and suitcase had been stacked against the one free wall. She felt another enormous wave of tiredness wash over her. She looked at the walls, covered in smudged cream paint. There was a small, framed painting on the wall by the window – a picture of a blue sea and a sailboat, white sail billowing, scudding over the waves towards the shore. She didn't recognise the artist. On the opposite wall there was a cork pinboard, almost bare. She walked closer. The only photograph pinned to it was of Jake and a black man, their arms slung about one another's shoulders, faces split in wide grins. Jake looked younger and his hair was much shorter.

She took a step back and looked around once more. The furniture looked like parental hand-me-downs. Bella wondered a little about Jake’s parents. He’d never mentioned them. Soon, no doubt, she’d have to meet them. She wondered if they already knew about her or if Jake hadn’t so much as mentioned her name.

She flopped down onto the bed, hearing the squeak of the springs that would soon be so familiar, and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Would Jake want to make love tonight? He’d said he’d let her off but did he actually mean it? For the first time, she didn't feel like it – the pull of sleep was much more insistent. Even now, she could feel her eyelids fluttering and exhaustion beginning to gather her into a grey fog.

Despite her fatigue, she stood for a moment by the bed, uncertain. Which was Jake’s side? Then, too tired to care, she lifted the covers and crawled beneath them, pulling a pillow against her chest. My first night here, she thought, and tried to preserve the moment in her mind, but it was too late and she was too tired. She lay back against the pillows, feeling unconsciousness come in a slow, crashing wave.

She woke early the next morning, the clear golden sunlight bringing her quickly up to the surface. Jake lay beside her, buried in pillows. She went to kiss him and stopped herself. He looked so peaceful, lying there, black curls falling across his forehead, his mouth slightly open, exhaling, inhaling, lost in sleep. Bella slid quietly from the bed and pulled on the first piece of clothing that came to hand, one of Jake’s t-shirts. She was going to make breakfast for them both, bring it back to bed and impress Jake with her domestic skills. She ran lightly down the stairs, naughtily conscious of her nakedness beneath the shirt, feeling the cool morning air move against her in unexpected places. She walked confidently into the kitchen, as if she’d lived here for years, and began to rummage in the fridge.

“Hello.”

The voice made her jump. She turned around, a little too quickly for casualness.

“Er – hello.”

For a second, she thought the man in the doorway was Jake. Time and another look showed her she was wrong. He was like Jake – the same dark good looks, the same height – but there were differences immediately apparent. This man was taller, heavier: his features subtly different, older, harder. He was bare-chested and before she thought of anything else, she was conscious of an almost indiscernible flash of attraction at the sight of his heavily furred, muscled chest. The feeling came and went almost before she was aware of it.

“Hello,” he said again. His eyebrows weren’t pitched upwards, but his voice sounded as though they were. Bella found herself blushing.

“Hi,” she said, wishing her voice was steadier. After that, she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Who are you?”

He seemed aware, after a moment, of how rude that sounded, and rephrased his question.

“I’m sorry, you are?”

“Bella.” Her voice sounded steadier now, belying the fact that behind her back, her hand was gripping the edge of the work surface. “I’m Bella. Are you – I’m sorry – er, you must be Carl?”

“That’s right.” He advanced a few steps into the kitchen. He wore a pair of tight-fitting cotton boxer shorts. Bella saw this in a split second glance and then, hotly conscious that he’d noticed her look, brought her eyes back up to his face, his Jake-but-not-Jake face.

“I’m Bella – “

She realised she’d said that before and faltered. He was looking at her in a way she couldn’t decipher. Before she could continue her sentence, he’d come fully into the room and moved to the counter opposite hers. He lifted the kettle from its stand, hefting it in one large hand.

“Nice to meet you, Bella.”

He moved to the sink and the splash of the tap obscured anything else he said. Bella remained where she was, rigid against the opposite counter. She was very aware of the brief hem of the T-shirt she was wearing. It was stupid, but she was struck dumb. Say something, say something, don’t just stand there…

“You must be Carl – “ she stammered, yet again.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

He’d turned to face her and somehow had moved a step closer. Suddenly his physical presence was overwhelming. She wanted to step back, to put some distance between them but the counter was behind her, pressing insistently into her back.

“I’m Carl.”

“Yes –“

“And – you’ve just told me your name.”

“Ye-yes.”

She heard herself parroting her answers and cursed herself for it. Say something else… Her mind was completely blank. She gripped the counter tighter.

“So…”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. For a moment, he looked achingly like Jake.

“So?” she quavered.

“So – “

Whatever he was going to say went unsaid. There was another footstep in the corridor outside and a girl appeared in the doorway. Bella’s eyes went from one stranger to the next. The girl was tall, blonde, milky-skinned. Veronica. She tried to say the name but her throat had dried.

“What’s going on?”

Carl – it was Carl, he’d said so – Carl laughed.

“We’ve got a visitor, V. Her name’s Bella. She appeared from nowhere. She’s a – what’s the word? A changeling?”

“What?”

The girl wore a large, white muslin shirt. Bella could see the shape of her breasts through the pallid material.

“She appeared overnight. Like a vision.”

“What?”

“A kitchen vision. A – what’s the word? – a sprite. A domestic changeling.”

He was making fun of her. Bella felt her back teeth lock.

“I’m Jake’s girlfriend,” she said, loudly and clearly, surprising herself.

“Are you now?”

The kettle was boiling behind Carl, huffing clouds of steam. He leaned over and flicked the switch, scarcely glancing at it. “Well, that’s very interesting. Where is Jake?”

“He’s in bed.”

She’d said it in a non-committal way, but she heard Veronica giggle and flushed hotly, fired suddenly with furious anger. She could feel her fingers behind her, clenching, clenching.

“He is,” she said, aware of how ridiculous she sounded. She managed to uncurl her fingers from the bench behind her. This was all going wrong, before she’d even had a chance. “Look, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean – “

The two of them faced her silently, amusement on both faces. She heard how she sounded and raged inwardly. She was stuttering, incoherent, idiotic. Escape seemed like the only possible option but the two of them were blocking the doorway. Bella took a deep breath. It had all gone horribly wrong but surely it was fixable?

“Look,” she said, trying to smile. “I think we’ve started off on the wrong foot.” It took some effort just to say that but she persevered. “I wanted to meet you before, well, before I moved in but Jake didn’t seem to think it would matter. He said you’d be fine with it. You are –“ she faltered in the face of their obvious incredulity, “ – you are okay with it, aren’t you?”

“Moving in?

It was Veronica that said it, continuing her previous form. She almost spat it. Bella felt a prickle of sweat on her upper lip – she could almost feel it coalescing on her forehead.

“But, but – didn’t he say anything? Didn’t he mention me?”

Veronica was shaking her head slowly. Carl said nothing. He had a mug of coffee in his hand and the steam rose in slow, curling wisps, drifting past his quirked half-smile.

Bella put a hand up to her mouth.

“Oh my God.”

They were both staring at her. For a wild moment, she thought of just running out, pushing past them, running down the street in bare feet and her big t-shirt.

Then there was a gallop of footsteps on the stairs and Jake entered stage left, bare-chested and in boxer shorts, hair mussed and an innocent grin on his face.

“Thought you were making breakfast – oh –“

He skidded to a halt and to silence at the sight of the motionless tableau in the kitchen.

“Jake,” said Carl. “When were you thinking of introducing us to your girlfriend?”

“More to the point,” said Veronica, “When were you thinking of introducing us to our new housemate?”

Jake smiled feebly. Bella held herself rigid, waiting to hear his excuse.

“Well,” he said and stalled.

“Well, what?” Veronica took a step towards him.

“Well, well, I – it just – it hasn’t – you haven’t been here and it – “ He stopped, swallowed. “Look, I’ll introduce you now. Bella, this is Carl, my brother, and Veronica, his girlfriend. Carl, V, this is Bella, my – my girlfriend.”

The three of them looked at each other, united for a moment in disbelief.

“Amazing. Just fucking a-ma-zing.” Carl put his mug down on the table with a sharp little click. “You are just unbelievable. Unbe-lie-vable.”

“Oh, fuck off Carl. It was a mistake, that’s all. An oversight.”

“You shouldn’t be apologising to us,” said Veronica, unexpectedly. “Well, I mean you should but – surely you should have told Bella that you hadn’t told us?”

Bella looked at her, aware of a sharp little impulse of gratitude. Why hadn’t Jake told her?

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, surprising herself again. “It was a mistake, like he said.”

“Fuck’s sake…”

Carl ran an exasperated hand through his hair. He looked so like Jake, leaning back against the counter. Bella looked from him to her boyfriend, who stood like a chastised child in the middle of the schoolroom floor. He looked back at her, miserably.

“I’m sorry, Bella.”

Perhaps it was his woebegone expression, perhaps it was the sudden release of tension. Bella gave a great snort of laughter, loud enough to make Veronica jump. She couldn’t stop herself, she heaved with laughter, giggles bubbling out of her. Jake looked at her as if she were crazy, just for a moment. Then he too collapsed, hiccupping hysterically.

Carl said nothing. He just stood there, leaning back, watching as Veronica slowly succumbed to laughter too. After five minutes of the three of them heaving with laughter, clutching the walls, the table, each other, panting and shaking with mirth, a tiny smile began to surface on his face, a minute crack in the façade.

Eventually he began to snigger too, softly, as a measured counterpoint to the snorts and guffaws of the others. The sound of their hilarity rose to the ceiling of the kitchen and echoed through the dusty hallway, filling the empty spaces of the house with gasps and yelps of merriment, laughter holding the four of them in a room, saying stop stop, feebly, holding one another up as if they were suffering terribly, as if their cackles and grunts of happiness were something quite other.