Apple of My Eye (43 page)

They reached the gates and faced each other. ‘I’ll wait for you this afternoon,’ he said. ‘We can do something, perhaps.’

‘I can’t this afternoon. Mum’s been feeling down. I should really be with her.’

He felt jealous. ‘She takes up too much of your time. I want some of it too.’

‘You get all of it. We’re soulmates, remember, and
soulmates are always together, even when they’re apart. You mustn’t be jealous of her. You’re the one I want to be with. You know that, don’t you?’

Then she kissed him. Properly this time, ignoring the others, who stopped and stared. He kissed her back and knew that it was true.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I do.’

She headed through the gates. He watched her go, feeling reassured. Feeling happy.

And suddenly he saw it. What his brain had tried to tell him outside her front door. Her stride was as measured as always. Her shoulders back and head held high.

But her physical presence was diminished. Her aura of invulnerability reduced. Just as it had been around her stepfather.

The man of whom she had been afraid.

Two minutes later Charlotte saw Susan rush into the first-floor toilets. Concerned, she followed her in.

Susan stood at one of the sinks, vigorously scrubbing her face. ‘What are you doing?’ Charlotte asked her.

‘Washing. What does it look like?’

‘Then ease up on the elbow grease. Soap’s supposed to clean your skin, not take it off. Anyway, you look spotless to me.’

Susan started to laugh. A shrill, edgy sound. Charlotte’s concern increased. ‘Is something the matter?’

The laughter stopped. Susan began to dry her face. The skin around her mouth looked raw. ‘Susie, what’s going on?’

‘Nothing. I just feel grubby. The air always seems dirty this time of year, don’t you think?’

Charlotte didn’t but nodded anyway. A pretty third-year girl entered and began to comb her hair, checking her reflection in the mirror above the row of sinks.

Susan continued to dry her face. ‘I enjoyed Saturday,’ Charlotte told her, ‘and so did Colin. He really liked Ronnie. He was saying that the four of us should go to the pictures. I’d like to see
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
but Colin wants
The Magnificent Seven
.’ She giggled. ‘I said I didn’t mind that either as I could drool over Steve McQueen and he got really jealous.’

Susan shook her head.

‘Doesn’t Ronnie like the pictures? We could do something else if you like. Colin’s got a friend called Neville who’s in a group. They’re more jazz than rock’n’roll but Colin says they’re quite good. Does Ronnie like jazz?’

‘How the hell do I know? Ronnie and I aren’t joined at the hip. Stop expecting me to know everything about him.’ Susan marched out of the toilets.

‘Is that Ronnie Sidney you’re talking about?’ asked the third-year girl. ‘He’s really gorgeous, isn’t he?’

‘Mind your own business,’ a bewildered Charlotte told her before leaving herself.

Half past three. Susan walked out of the school gates to find Ronnie waiting for her.

She had expected him to be and had her smile ironed
and ready to wear. It was only a short walk home. Ten minutes. Fifteen at the most. She could keep up the façade until then.

But for how much longer? Weeks? Months?

Years?

He walked towards her, looking just like the polite and charming boy everyone believed him to be. She felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming lorry. Cornered and helpless with no idea of what she was going to do.

But she would think of something. She had to.

For there was no one else who could help.

Once again the cameras were running. She kissed his cheek and restrained the urge to wipe her mouth. That gesture was not in the script and survival meant following the script to the letter.

‘Hello, Ronnie. How was your day?’

Wednesday evening. Charles heard Ronnie talking on the telephone in the hall.

‘Well, what about tomorrow evening? Surely she can spare you then.’

Guessing he was talking to Susan, Charles went to listen.

‘I know it’s difficult for her and I know how much she needs you, but what about me?’

The hiss of conversation from the receiver.

‘I’m not being horrible. I just want to see you, that’s all. We don’t seem to have spent any time together. Not really. Not since …’

The hiss started up again.

‘Friday, then. I’ll look forward to it.’ A pause. ‘I love you.’

Again the hiss. Softer than before.

‘Good. Because you’ll always be that. No one else could ever take your place.’

Charles heard the receiver being replaced. He walked into the hall. ‘All well, Ronnie?’

No answer. Ronnie kept his back to him, staring down at the phone.

‘Ronnie?’

‘What?’

‘Is everything all right?’

‘Susie’s busy at the moment. She has to look after her mother. But that’s all it is.’ Ronnie’s voice was calm but his body gave off tension like static. Charles was concerned. The last thing Ronnie’s relationship with Susan needed was turbulence. If they were to fall out then who could tell what the consequences might be?

‘Well, that’s understandable,’ he said soothingly. ‘Her mother’s been through a lot. They both have.’

‘That’s all it is,’ said Ronnie again. ‘There’s no other reason.’

‘Of course. What other reason could there be? Anyone can see how much she loves you, Ronnie. No one could take your place in her life.’

‘The way you tried to take my place in my mother’s, you mean?’

He was taken aback. ‘I’ve never tried …’ he began.

At last Ronnie turned, transfixing him with those
eyes. But this time the barriers were gone, allowing the real Ronnie Sunshine to reveal himself.

Hate-driven. Savage. Murderous.

‘You tried to buy her but it didn’t work. She’s still mine and always will be. Just like Susie. And no one, least of all you, is ever going to change that.’

They stared at each other. For a moment Ronnie’s expression was almost bestial. As if he could attack at any minute.

And then, suddenly, the barriers were back in place. Ronnie began to laugh. ‘Don’t look so worried. I was only joking.’ A pause. A dig. ‘You should see your face.’

He nodded, swallowed and found his throat bone dry.

‘I’m going upstairs to do my homework. See you at dinner. Mum’s making lamb chops.’ Another dig. ‘One of my favourites.’

Ronnie walked upstairs. Charles remained where he was. His heart was racing. Afraid for Susan.

And, for the first time, himself.

Friday, late afternoon. Susan walked through Market Court with Ronnie.

They were on the way to his house. She was spending the evening there just as she had agreed. It was the last thing she wanted but she couldn’t keep using her mother as an excuse to avoid him. The façade of normality had to be maintained. He must not guess that anything had changed.

Though she was beginning to suspect that he had done so already.

He was talking about Vera’s accident. Describing it with relish and in detail while all the time studying her with eyes that seemed to be searching for something. ‘One night,’ he told her, ‘soon after it happened, I crept into her room when she and Uncle Stan were sleeping and pulled back the blankets. I needed to see it. To see how bad it was. You understand that, don’t you?’

‘Of course.’

Are you testing me? Is that what this is about?

‘I wanted to touch it but didn’t in case I woke her up. I only ever touched it once. On the day I left. When I told her how much I hated her.’

She forced herself to smile. ‘That must have felt good.’

‘It did. I wish you’d been there so we could have shared the feeling.’

‘We shared Uncle Andrew dying. I doubt anything could have felt as good as that.’ She kept her voice steady and her smile in place. If this was a test then she had to pass. No matter what it cost her inside.

‘Who knows what else we’ll share?’

‘Everything. That’s what soulmates do.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘And that’s what we are.’

His eyes roamed over the Court. Suddenly he began to smile. She followed his gaze and it led her to a little boy with curly blond hair, holding hands with a woman who was presumably his mother.

‘Does he remind you of anyone?’ Ronnie asked.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

‘It’s incredible. They could be twins. All he needs is a pair of shorts and a beach ball.’

Her stomach was churning. The image of the body in the quarry forced its way into her mind like a drill in spite of all her attempts to keep it out. His eyes returned to her. Again they were appraising. They made her afraid.

But fear was for the weak and survival depended on remaining strong.

‘I love you, Ronnie. You see what needs to be done and you do it. People say I’m strong but I’ve never met anyone as strong as you. You make everyone else look weak and me feel safe. And I love you for it.’

Then she leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips. For a moment they felt hard. Then they relaxed. He began to respond, probing her mouth with his tongue while the churning in her stomach increased.

She released him and stared into his face. At last it was warm and tender. The face of the boy she had fallen in love with, only to discover that it was a mask more concealing than any she had ever been forced to wear.

They were standing outside Cobhams. ‘I need to use their Ladies,’ she told him. ‘I would have gone straight after school but I was too keen to see you.’

He smiled. ‘Hurry, then. I’ll be waiting.’

From her table by the window Alice watched Susan enter Cobhams.

Ronnie remained on the pavement outside. He looked handsome and happy, and the sight of him filled her with a mixture of aching desire and blinding hate.

But Susan didn’t look happy. Her face was pale and strained and there was something odd about the way she moved. Slowly, but as if fighting the urge to run.

Susan entered the Ladies. Curious, Alice rose to her feet and followed her in.

Ronnie waited outside Cobhams.

Alice appeared and walked towards him. ‘Who’d have thought it,’ she said sweetly. ‘Not me. I’d have thought you’d be rather good.’

‘At what?’

‘Kissing. I saw you and Susie kissing just now.’

‘So?’

‘So it looks like I’ve had a lucky escape.’

‘From what?’

‘A boy whose kiss makes girls vomit. Because that’s what Susie’s doing right now. I heard her in one of the cubicles.’

‘That’s a lie.’

‘Ask her if you don’t believe me. Or, if she tries to spare your feelings, then smell her breath.’ Alice smiled. ‘Poor Ronnie. You must be really terrible if even the town tart needs to be sick every time you touch her.’ A soft giggle. ‘Just wait until I tell people. If you take my advice you’ll get the first bus back to that slum you came from, because you’ll be a
laughing stock in this town by the time I’ve finished with you.’

‘And you won’t have a face by the time I’ve finished with you.’

The smile faded. ‘What do you mean?’

‘That the skin on your face is very delicate. A single cup of acid could strip it bare.’

The blood drained from her cheeks.

‘So please don’t stick your pretty little nose into my business. Not unless you want to lose it altogether.’

She hurried away. He remained where he was, waiting for Susan.

A minute passed. Then another. What was going on? Why was she taking so long?

She appeared, looking relaxed. ‘Sorry I was so long. There was a queue. You’re lucky being a man. Being able to answer the call of nature without having to sit down.’

He nodded. It was plausible enough. He had spent enough time waiting for his mother in similar situations. Alice was lying. The way vicious bitches always did.

Susan gave a sniff. ‘I think I’m getting a cold. Better not kiss you again in case I pass it on.’

And that was plausible enough too. He believed her. He wanted to believe her.

But he had to know for sure.

She opened her mouth to say something else. He put his hands around her face and pulled it towards him.

To smell the rotten, acidic stench on her breath.

She struggled free. ‘What are you doing?’

He stared at her. The girl he had killed for. The girl he loved and believed to be his soulmate. The girl who knew him better than anybody. The girl to whom he had confided his greatest secret.

But she didn’t love him. He frightened and repulsed her. Even more than her stepfather had.

He could see himself reflected in her eyes. Two magic mirrors that distorted his image, turning it into something ugly and monstrous. He gazed into them, seeing himself as she saw him.

Seeing himself as he really was.

And it hurt. More than anything or anyone had ever hurt him before.

‘I’ve got a headache,’ he told her. ‘I should go home and lie down.’

‘But …’

‘You should go home yourself. Be with your mother while you can.’

He turned and walked away. She called out his name but he didn’t look back.

Saturday, half past six in the morning. Susan sat at the kitchen table, cradling a mug of tea in her hands.

She had been there for hours. Unable to sleep. He knew. She was sure of it. All her years of drama training under Uncle Andrew had been for nothing. Less than a week of playing opposite Ronnie had exposed her for the pathetic amateur she still was.

Be with your mother while you can.

What did he mean? Was it a threat? Was her mother in danger?

Was she?

From the garden came the first chirping of the birds. Soon light would come creeping through the window, banishing the shadows from the room but not from her head.

There were footsteps. Her mother appeared, wrapped in a dressing gown. ‘Susie? What are you doing up so early?’

She didn’t answer, just stared down at the stone-cold tea in the mug.

‘Is something worrying you? You can tell me if there is.’

‘Can I?’

‘Of course. I’m your mother.’

She looked up at the pretty, fragile woman she had spent most of her life trying to protect. But now, more than anything else, she wanted some protection herself.