The Trouble with Love (9 page)

EIGHTEEN

Sam gave a long, relieved whistle. “Quick thinking. I couldn't have stood it much longer.”

Polly blinked back her tears. “You're not angry with me?”

He looked astonished. “Why would I be angry? If we'd stayed much longer, I might have punched that guy. I can't believe he called you a disco-dancing pixie!”

“He's a bit of a joker,” Polly muttered. “He doesn't mean it.”

“I'd rather have you to myself anyway,” said Sam, pulling Polly off the wall and kissing her. “We'll be back at your house in fifteen minutes if we walk fast. When you've changed, we'll do something else instead.”

The cold air against her wet clothes made Polly shiver. Sam walked beside her, keeping her warm in the crook of his arm.

She didn't know what to think about Ollie's behaviour. She was glad they had escaped, but she was upset that he and Sam got along so badly. She wanted Sam to like him. She also wondered whether Lila was yelling at Ollie right now for spoiling the evening. Polly didn't want to think too hard about the way Lila and Ollie's relationship seemed to be cracking around the edges.

“You must be Sam,” said Polly's mum brightly as they came in through the front door. “Polly's been talking about you for days.”

Polly groaned to herself.
Thanks, Mum. Now I look really cool.

“How do you do, Mrs Nelson,” said Sam, holding out his hand.

Polly's mother's smile thinned. “It's Ms Allen these days,” she said. “I'm sure Polly's told you all about the way her hopeless father ran out on us six years ago.”

Sam looked embarrassed. “I'm sorry to hear that. We haven't really talked about our families much.”

Polly wanted to disappear through the floorboards. Could her mother ruin her life any further? “Sam doesn't want to hear any of that,” she hissed. “I need to go upstairs and change.” She looked at Sam. “Will you be OK waiting?”

“Of course he will,” said her mum at once. “I'll look after him. We can get to know each other better, can't we, Sam?”

Polly fled up the stairs. The apple juice had dried now, and her clothes were sticking uncomfortably to her skin. She couldn't wait to get out of them and dive into a hot shower where she could scrub everything away. If only she could scrub the whole evening away as well.

She dreaded to think what her mother was telling Sam down in the kitchen. Would he think it was weird she hadn't mentioned how her parents were divorced? She felt as if she had been lying to him somehow. He was right about how they hadn't talked about their families. She didn't know a thing about his home life either.

She stood in the shower, shampooing her hair and conditioning it, washing herself with every product on the bathroom shelf. It was only when the water started running cold that she forced herself out of the shower and wearily studied her wardrobe for what to wear. Why was it always such a struggle?

Time was ticking. At last she pulled on the pink cigarette pants she'd worn to London together with a white jumper. They would have to do. If she left Sam alone with her mum for much longer, he'd never want to see her again.

Her phone rang as she was moving down the stairs. She yanked it out of her pocket, dreading a call from Lila asking if she had got home OK.

“Polly-Dolly! Great, I caught you. Are you busy?”

“Hey, Dad,” said Polly, taking the treads on the stairs two at a time. “I'm kind of going out right now.”

“Sounds fun.” He dropped his voice meaningfully. “With anyone nice?”

Polly laughed. “Not telling you.”

“Do you want to meet tomorrow? When would be a good time?”

By that, Polly guessed he meant “When will your mother be out?” The lightness she had been feeling at the sound of his voice wilted in her chest like old spinach. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, fiddling absently with the handrail.

“Whenever,” she said quietly.

“Why don't we say twelve? I'll pick you up—”

Polly's phone was abruptly snatched out of her hand.

“How many times must I tell you to leave her alone, Alex?” her mother hissed into the receiver, resting one hand on Polly's shoulder. “You can't see her, understand? I won't have you breaking her heart like you once broke mine.”

Through waves of shame, Polly saw Sam standing very still in the kitchen doorway. Right at that moment, all she wanted to do was run back up the stairs and lock herself in the bathroom until the whole misery was over.

I'm sorry
, she mouthed helplessly at Sam as her mother ranted on down the phone.

Forget about it
, he mouthed back with a shrug.
Shall we go?

It was the best idea Polly'd heard all evening. She grabbed a scarf from the hallstand and dragged Sam through the front door. Snatches of her parents' argument drifted through the door catch as she hustled him down the drive.

“Unreliable. . . Irresponsible. . . Thoughtless. . .”

Finally, blissfully, the sounds of arguing faded into the night.

“I'm really sorry about that,” said Polly in a trembling voice. “My mother's a nightmare at the moment. Did she bore you to death in the kitchen while I was changing?”

Sam shook his head. “We talked mainly about school, actually.”

His voice sounded funny. Polly felt crushed with anxiety. Would he hate her now he'd seen what her family was like?

“Everything was great between them once,” she blurted. “It's amazing what six years can do. It's like they're at war, and I'm the prize.”

They had reached the little park at the end of Polly's road. Sam held open the gate.

“Believe me, I know all about parents,” he said.

Something in his tone of voice caught Polly's attention. He sounded sad.

“I'm going to challenge you to a swing-off,” he said before she could ask him anything else. He jogged towards the set of swings which stood in the centre of the park. “Are you up for it?”

Polly laughed, feeling marginally more cheerful. “Definitely.”

Sam's long legs made his swing go much higher than hers, even though she worked her legs like a blur to beat him. The moon shone overhead, casting strange shadows. Polly tipped her head back, feeling her hair swinging in the evening breeze just as it had done the first time she ever came to this park.

Sam flew off the swing and landed in a perfect commando roll on the ground. Polly flung herself from the swing after him. For just half a second she felt weightless, carefree.

“Nice landing action for a fish,” said Sam, catching her as she hit the ground. “Roundabout next?”

They took turns pushing each other on the roundabout. Then one pushed and ran and jumped aboard with the other, holding on and laughing in the darkness.

“I'm so glad we didn't go and see that film,” Polly said as they slowed to a squeaky halt. She swung her feet off the side of the roundabout.

“This is so much better,” Sam agreed. “Cheap. Fun. Dark.”

He gathered her in his arms and kissed her beneath the moon, their shadows striping the dark grass behind them. And Polly knew that Sam was completely perfect. Finally she had found someone to replace Ollie in her heart.

They left the roundabout and sat on a cool shadowy bench, side by side, their heads resting against each other.

“Do you find it hard?” Sam said into the darkness. “Having divorced parents?”

Polly remembered laughing with her parents round the kitchen table in San Francisco, sunlight pooling on the waxed kitchen floor at their feet. The memory swelled and threatened to burst.

“It's hard when I think about it,” she said. “But most of the time, it's OK.”

She sensed that he wanted to say something more. A dim recollection of how he had sounded when he told her he understood parents swam to the surface of her mind. She shifted round to see his face a little better.

“Why do you ask?”

Sam looked down at his hands. “My parents are getting divorced,” he said. “It's going through at the moment.”

Polly took his hands and held them. She of all people knew the pain that he was feeling. Further proof, if she needed it, of how perfect they were for each other.

“Are you going to live with your mum?” she asked. “Or your dad?”

“Mum.”

“So where's your dad going?”

“Dad's not the one who's leaving town,” Sam said.

A shard of ice pierced Polly's heart. “Your mother's leaving Heartside? And . . . and you're leaving Heartside with her?”

Sam squeezed her hand. “Mum's been offered an incredible job in government in London. To make the whole transition easier for me, she's arranged an apprenticeship for me with this amazing politician – a green campaigner who knows everything about environmental issues. He's exactly the kind of politician I want to be when I'm older.”

Polly had the strangest sensation that the bench was breaking beneath her, and that she was falling.

“When are you leaving?” she whispered, dreading his answer.

He looked at her, willing her to understand. “I'm moving after half-term.”

NINETEEN

No!
Polly wanted to shout. After half-term . . . that was next week. Sam
couldn't
leave Heartside in just a few days' time. They'd only just found each other.

Why did everyone leave?

She gave a choking sob as an awful feeling of grief swept over her.

“Polly, please don't cry.” Tears were glistening in Sam's eyes as well. “We'll be fine. London's not so far away. We'll still see each other.”

“It's not enough!” Polly's heart was breaking all over again. “Long-distance relationships don't work, Sam. It's stupid to pretend they do.”

She pulled her hands from Sam's grasp and ran towards the park gate.

“Don't go!” Sam ran after her, trying to pull her back towards the bench. “We can talk about this—”

“Let me go,” Polly wept. “We can't fix this, Sam. It's broken for ever.”

“It doesn't have to be—”

“I don't want this,” Polly said. “You in London, me here. Making arrangements to see each other, and then cancelling when other stuff comes up. Waiting by the phone . . . I can't do it. Don't you understand?”

“But I'm falling in love with you,” Sam said desperately.

His words hardened Polly's heart.
Love is nothing but trouble
, she thought savagely.
People in love just hurt each other more
.

“Let's be honest and end it here,” she said. “Goodbye, Sam.”

He let go of her arm as if she had slapped him. Unable to bear the look on his face, Polly ran for the park gate, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Her breath came in loud, ragged gasps as she pounded down the quiet street, her scarf flying, her legs pumping. Where was she going? She didn't know. She didn't care. She just wanted to run and run until she fell to the ground and stopped feeling the pain. Anything was better than this.

Sam's face would haunt her for ever. The betrayal in his eyes, the tears on his cheeks.

She swerved away from the streetlights, aiming instead for the darkness of the lanes that wound up from Heartside Bay into the hills. The further she ran, the darker it became. Streetlights were few and far between now, which suited her fine. She wanted to run into the darkest place she could find, and hide there for ever. Her knees shook. Her lungs felt as if they were going to burst. She plunged on.

The sea gleamed beyond the town, lit by the pure white light of the moon. Now her eyes were accustomed to it, everything felt as bright as day.

As she swerved round a corner, she realized dimly that someone was running towards her at full speed. Head down, headphones in, black wires trailing down the front of a pale hoodie. He hadn't seen her. He was going to crash right into her. She saw all this as if from a distance, as if it was about to happen to someone else, someone who wasn't her at all.

The jogger glanced up just in time.

“Whoa!” he said, skidding to a halt. Stones flew up from beneath his trainers.

Polly wobbled in shock, lost her footing and staggered to the side of the road, where her legs folded beneath her like a deckchair and she sat, suddenly, on the verge. She buried her pounding head in her hands.

Of all the people she could have bumped into tonight, she thought in despair, why did it have to be Ollie?

Ollie pulled his headphones from his ears. His blond hair looked wet and dark in the moonlight. “Polly?” he said in astonishment. “Are you OK?”

Polly peeped at him through her fingers, struggling to breathe. Now she had stopped running, her legs were agony
. I probably look like a lunatic
, she thought hysterically.

She felt him sit on the verge beside her. “I thought you were a ghost, looming out of nowhere like that. What's happened? What are you doing up here?”

She scrubbed at her eyes, which felt gritty and red. “Escaping,” she mumbled.

His eyebrows lifted, mystified. “From what? A hungry lion?”

She was still trembling from head to foot. “My life,” she said in despair.

“What's wrong with your life?”

“Everything,” she groaned.

“Hey, hey, don't cry,” Ollie said, putting his arm round her. “Talk to me.”

The kindness of the gesture made Polly cry all over again. Burying her face in his warm fleecy front, she sobbed and hiccupped and blurted out the whole story about Sam: how they had met, how they had lost and then found each other again. And how it was over already, before it had properly begun. She was beyond caring what Ollie thought of her as she sobbed all over his hoodie.

“He's probably congratulating himself on escaping,” she wept. “I'm neurotic, obsessive, insecure – everything that Sam's not. I know it's better this way. So why does it hurt so much?'

“Just because we know something's right, doesn't make it easy,” Ollie said over her head. “And as for Sam congratulating himself – I don't think so. Look at you, Polly. You're bright, funny, original. Any guy would be lucky to have you. This is totally Sam's loss. He's not good enough for you.”

Polly punched Ollie weakly in the shoulder. “You were horrible to him tonight.”

“That's because he's a pompous idiot,” Ollie said promptly. “I mean, goat's cheese and rocket pizza? Are rockets even edible? Rockets should stick to what they know: powering through the universe, full of astronauts.”

“It's a great pizza combination, actually,” Polly said, wiping her eyes.

“Sure it is,” said Ollie. “If you're a hungry astronaut with an allergy to nice normal cows.”

Polly laughed in spite of herself. “You're pretty original yourself, you know.”

“Aw,” said Ollie, resting his head against hers. “That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

It probably was, Polly realized. She had spent so many years bickering with Ollie, teasing him, winding him up, desperate for him to notice her but desperate for him not to know how she really felt about him. She could hardly believe he was here with her, in the moonlight, sitting on the side of the road. His arm felt warm on her shoulders, like it was meant to be there.

“How was the film anyway?” she asked, sniffing.

Ollie pulled a face. “We didn't go. Lila was so mad at me she left pretty much straight after you did, leaving me to sort out the bill. It wasn't our best date ever.”

The atmosphere changed at the mention of Lila's name. Polly suddenly felt guilty sitting out here in the dark with Ollie's arm round her – as if they were Eve and Max sneaking around behind Rhi's back. Confusing feelings threatened to overwhelm her.

“We should try and get along better,” she said into the silence, trying to move things along. “You know. For Lila's sake.”

Ollie abruptly took his arm away. “I've always been nice to you,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You're the one who won't lay off the dumb-jock jokes.”

Polly groped for a response. “You're the one who compared my dress to a curtain!”

“Only after you said my brain was made of marshmallows.” His voice sounded strangely tight. He stood up and brushed his joggers down. “Why am I even sitting here like this with you? You should run back to your brainy boyfriend in the park. You two are made for each other.”

Polly was cut to the quick. Where was his anger coming from? Barely seconds ago, she had been resting her head on his shoulder. Now he was looking at her like she was mud.

“Thanks for nothing,” she managed. “Oh, and remind me never to spill the contents of my soul at the feet of a football player again!”

“Don't tell me.” Ollie slotted his headphones back into his ears. “You think I'll kick them into the back of the net.”

“You just did!” Polly shouted. “Are you going to pull your jumper over your head now and run around the pitch like a dumb gorilla howling at the moon?”

“Ug!” Ollie grunted, beating his chest and capering around on the moonlit road in front of her. “Ug ug! That's me, Polly. All brawn and no brain. Ug!”

Polly covered her ears. She hated him so much right then. “Go away!” she screamed. “Sam's right about you. You're . . . you're stupid and lazy and . . . and. . .”

“You deserve each other,” Ollie said bitterly.

He jogged away into the darkness with a sarcastic wave.

Polly felt worse than ever. It was as if those precious moments of kindness had never happened. Those moments when it had just been the two of them against the world.

This had truly been the evening from hell.