Love & Freedom (10 page)

Nevertheless, she kept looking behind. ‘So, that charming guy back there, why do you call him Frog?’ The setting sun wasn’t reaching over the houses and the shadowy street was lapsing into cool twilight.

‘Toby French. He’s the year above me at school. He’s a big brave man as long as he’s got his two Tadpoles with him.’

‘I know the type.’ She walked beside him in silence for a couple of streets. The lamps were coming on, now, burning orange in a sky like blue metal. ‘Looks to me like he’s giving you problems.’

Rufus shrugged and hunched his shoulders, jamming his hands in his pockets and walking faster. ‘It happens.’

She tried to keep up. ‘Happened to me a time or two but I had a badass friend and that helped a lot.’ Stef. She pictured him in high school with his tawny hair blowing, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. In the days when he’d been an asset and not a liability.

Rufus sniffed. ‘Yeah? Well, I haven’t got a badass friend.’

Pity. ‘Maybe we can get you a badass reputation, then.’

He laughed without humour. ‘I’ve got a reputation but not as a badass.’

Freak.
Honor heard the word spewing from Frog’s nasty mouth, remembered the way that Rufus had recoiled.

He led her down an opening and across the top of Saltdean Park, away from the beach, into one street after another. He was taking her back to Eastingdean. In fact, she suddenly realised, he was taking her in the direction of The Butts. ‘Do you live at your Mom’s tearooms?’

‘Yup.’

When they reached the broad sweep of The Butts, he hurdled a trough of petunias and made for a passage up the side of the tearoom. Then he paused, shooting glances at her from the corner of his eye. ‘I don’t want you to tell my mum. About Frog.’ He concentrated on his scuffling feet.

Honor leaned against the wall, tucking her hands into her pockets. ‘Your mom makes great cakes,’ she observed, as if just remembering.

‘Yeah. Do you want to, like, come in or something?’

‘Not if it’s going to make your mom ask lots of awkward questions.’

‘She will. She’ll get–’ He revolved his hands in the air as if juggling words and being unable to find the right ones.

‘Will she charge around to Frog’s house and try and sock him on the jaw?’

He shook his head. ‘No, she’ll charge round but put a spell on him or something. It’s well embarrassing.’

Honor snorted with laughter. ‘Like a witch? You’re kidding me.’

‘No, not really. ’Cos she’s not a witch, although she once bought a book of occult symbols,’ he replied, gloomily. ‘It would be cool if she could turn his eyes yellow or make his knob drop off or something. But she can’t. She’ll just rant and tell him that he’s got bad Karma and I’m “her little Ru” and he’ll wet himself making pathetic jokes about Kanga, Roo and Winnie-the-Pooh. Then he’ll tell everyone at school that my mum’s dead weird. Again. And I’m a freak.’

Honor twisted her ponytail with her fingers. ‘I don’t suppose this is his last year at your school?’

Despondently, Ru shook his head. ‘He’s got another year at least. Anyway, he lives near.’ He nodded towards some unspecified location. Then, suddenly, ‘Here’s Mum.’

A small white van rolled up to the kerb and Honor saw Robina staring at them through the passenger window. As soon as the wheels stopped turning, she jumped out. ‘Hello?’ she said, to Honor, curiously.

The driver of the van was Sophie, the woman who worked with Robina in the Eastingdean Teapot. She climbed out of the other door.

‘Hi!’ said Honor, in her best American tourist accent. ‘How are you today? We met already, didn’t we? In your tearoom? I was just asking your son about the community centre and wondering whether to join some classes. You know, I’m new around here.’

Robina looked amused. ‘I doubt Ru knows much about the community centre. We don’t do joining in, do we, Ru? We’re more
 
… free spirits! Eh, Sophie?’

Sophie beamed. Her hair, now it was free of its hairnet, hung straight to her shoulders. ‘That’s us.’

‘So, how was Crusty, at the hospital?’ broke in Ru.

‘
Kirsty
is still quite ill.’ Robina frowned. ‘Bloody doctors have no idea what’s wrong with her. “It’s a virus,” they say, but they don’t know which. Or how to treat her. They try her with no-good crap medicine and it has no effect. I took her St. John’s Wort and echinacea.’

‘Your friend sounds really sick,’ Honor commiserated. ‘I guess the St John’s will help if she’s feeling down and the echinacea is to help her immune system?’

Robina shifted on her leather-sandalled feet, then changed the subject, making Honor suspect that she had no idea about herbal properties and had simply grabbed a couple of things from the holistic health shop at Starboard Walk. ‘So, Ru, my little Ru, I’m afraid you’re going to have to help us out for the summer. Kirsty isn’t going to be well enough to work for weeks.’

‘Shit,’ muttered Ru.

Honor looked into his lean, sad face. ‘You weren’t looking for a summer job?’

‘I just got one.’ He shot a defiant look at his mother. ‘Taking money on a ride on the seafront in Brighton. It’s really cool on the rides. It’s wicked, Brighton.’

‘But Kirsty’s ill,’ Robina pointed out, delving into a large, green canvas bag embroidered with peacocks. ‘Me and Sophie can’t manage, Ru.’

‘Not on our own,’ agreed Sophie.

‘Put a card up in the window,’ Rufus wheedled. ‘Get someone.’

Pulling out her keys, Robina waved them around, as if wiping his words from the evening air. ‘I can’t get my head round interviewing and all that stuff. If I put a card up I’ll be mobbed. C’mon, Ru, don’t give me a hard time.’

Ru hunched even more. ‘You just can’t be bothered.’

Robina gave him a hug. ‘Don’t be grouchy, little Ru!’

Ru accepted the embrace but his brows lowered over stormy milk-chocolate eyes. Honor could see why he’d hate to give up a summer job on the Brighton seafront in favour of serving cake in his mother’s tearoom. Eastingdean’s aging holidaymakers wore comfy clothes and sensible shoes, whereas Brighton’s rides would attract crowds of giggling girls with short skirts and high heels. The rides would be a lot better for him. He’d have fun.

She opened her mouth and words slid out. ‘How about me?’

Robina cocked her head. ‘You?’

‘I’m working as a waitress for a catering company in Brighton but I’m looking for something else. I’ve worked in coffee shops before, when I was in school. I only expect to make minimum wage and I’m a local girl until September.’ She already knew enough about Robina to know that what she was suggesting was not necessarily a good idea, but Ru was looking at her with such blissed-out hope that the words just kept on coming. ‘My name’s Honor Sontag. Why don’t you give me a try?’

‘Yeah, Mum, give her a try,’ Rufus urged.

Robina frowned. ‘What’s wrong with the job you’ve got?’

‘It stinks.’

Sophie giggled. ‘She sounds OK, Robbie.’

Robina shrugged, as if who worked in the tearoom was of no importance, just so long as someone did. ‘OK. Come tomorrow, about eleven.’

And she brushed past, up the passage to a side door with a light that came on as she approached, Sophie scurrying after.

Ru didn’t follow. He leaned against the wall, his hair blowing in the wind until the door had shut behind his mother and Sophie. ‘Good one. Thought I was going to be stuck with a crap summer.’

‘You don’t like working for your mom?’

‘She’s OK as long as other people do the donkey work and she’s free to make her work-of-art cakes. Soppy Sophie does my head in, though. Crusty isn’t quite so bad but Soppy is so giggly.’ He grimaced. ‘But watch her. She’s sweet as pie only so long as Mum likes you.’

Honor pulled a face. ‘Maybe I ought to reconsider–’

He grinned and amended, hastily, ‘You’ll love them.’ And, as if to stop her thinking about the subject too deeply, ‘Are you seeing that Martyn Mayfair? Him from the buses?’

Martyn’s involvement with buses was news to Honor but maybe he drove a tour bus? It would explain why he was away from home for a few days at a time. ‘I just rent my place from his sister.’

‘I saw you out running with him.’

‘Yeah, we did, once. He nearly killed me because he’s superfit. I’m not dating him or anything.’ Definitely no ‘anything’.

Ru nodded. ‘That’s good, because Mum’s got a thing about him. She can get
 
… intense.’

‘Oh-kay.’ Unease slithered down her spine. She hadn’t really considered Robina’s stalky tendencies. ‘Isn’t she quite a lot older than him?’

‘S’pose. She’s not bothered about things like that.’ His forehead settled into lines that he seemed awfully young to have.

Honor felt bad for him. ‘Thanks for the heads up. So, what are you going to tell Frog, when he asks about the cops?’

He shrugged. It seemed the gesture most familiar to him.

‘Tell him a tourist made a complaint,’ Honor suggested. ‘Just say something like, “I didn’t know I’d hurt him” and refuse to give details. It’ll be just enough to make him wonder.’

He managed a smile. ‘OK. Thanks.’

Honor wished she could come up with something better to stop Frog picking on Ru. Although creating a badass reputation seemed a good idea in principle and it had worked for Stef, who rarely had to get physical to keep trouble at arm’s length, she wasn’t really sure how to go about it.

Chapter Nine

Martyn liked where he lived. It didn’t sound glamorous to say that his place was over shops, but as Starboard Walk was right at the sea end of The Butts he had a fantastic view over the cliffs to the Channel. The small block had been renovated specifically to appeal to those discerning enough to patronise Belinda’s hat shop, Holistic Harmony, a nice Italian restaurant and an upmarket confectioners, the kind that sold sugared almonds in cellophane tied with curly gold ribbon.

He liked the black iron external stairway that ran down past the flint-studded walls at one end of the block and the black iron balcony that bellied out at the other, with enough room for him to sit with the occasional beer and watch the waves and the road disappearing east towards Peacehaven or west to Saltdean, Rottingdean and Brighton.

Before he let himself out on Saturday morning, he did a quick check of the car park from his bedroom. And there was Robina, hanging idly around as if looking for something. He stepped back as she looked up. Waited until, with one last look, she wandered off with that
life has disappointed me
look.

To give her time to get clear, he opened his laptop and spent twenty minutes on Facebook, before he set off on his favourite run along the undercliff to Rottingdean; it didn’t matter if it wasn’t early because the day didn’t threaten to be hot. An army of ragged white clouds marched before a scurrying breeze but it didn’t feel as if rain was on the way. He’d lived all his life on this cliff top, and knew.

Locking the door, he turned to run down the iron stairway only to find Clarissa on her way up. ‘Oh cra– Hello,’ he said.

She gave him A Look but didn’t comment on his unenthusiastic greeting. ‘I was hoping to catch you. Could you please call on our American friend?’

Oh. ‘If you need me to.’ He put the slightest stress on the word
need
.

Clarissa’s sharpened gaze told him that she hadn’t missed the emphasis. ‘Not if you’ve got a full day,’ she said, evenly.

‘Running and volleyball. Then I have to talk to Ace.’

Clarissa’s nose wrinkled. She had never met Ace Smith but disdained as an affectation his having rearranged his name from Jason, through Jace, to Ace. But if you were a Smith, you had to do something if you wanted to be memorable, in Martyn’s view.

‘So does that count as a full day?’

He debated staying where he was, towering above her, but decided it was unnecessarily combatant – exactly the trait he disliked in her – so jumped down several steps until their eyes were level. He even managed a smile. ‘How about you tell me what it is you need help with and then I’ll tell you whether I can do it?’

When she returned his smile, ten years fled her face. ‘It’s that brilliant digital thermostat thingy that Duncan put in at the bungalow. Honor “cain’t figyure it out”.’ She put on a horrible American accent that owed more to Jesse James than to Honor’s musical New England syllables. ‘It’s an unco-operative thing and you have to get it into a certain mode before the water will heat without the radiators.’ She pulled a pamphlet from her pocket. ‘I found the instructions. I’ve been asked to take on a tap class in Hove or I would have gone myself. The instructor is ill and I might be able to keep the class permanently, if I get them out of a hole, now.’

‘OK.’ He took the instruction leaflet and slid it into the pocket on the front of his sweatshirt. He supposed his path was bound to keep crossing with Honor’s, what with Clarissa being her landlady and a pain in his backside. Prickly Clarissa. She was all attitude. Why couldn’t she have explained about the class from the start instead of trying to guilt him into helping by hinting he had nothing else to do?