Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

Rosie

When my friendMolly left for London all those years ago, it had felt like she’d taken my fun of studying along with her. Goodbye, for ever. But I had hope now. I had excitement about having someone new in my life here, outside of the vague circle I’d been on the outskirts of.

Instead of heading for the college gates at the end of my lessons, I took a detour to the art block.

I hardly knew my way around it, so I sat myself down on a bench by the main design block exit doors, keeping an eye on the students as they walked on by. Lola was one of the last, walking alone. She was rummaging in her satchel as she approached. She didn’t see me until I called out a hey with a smile on my face. Her smile back in return was such a relief that I leapt up from the bench, slinging my backpack on to join her on the path.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here,” she said. “Whoa, seriously. Thanks for coming.”

That was one of the traits we must have shared, saying thank you for everything in the world, even when it wasn’t needed. She didn’t need to say thank you for me wanting to hang out with her. We walked in silence until we reached the gates, smiling at each other in that unspoken way that friends do. We waited until everyone else had passed us by before we sat on the wall at the side of the college.

“You coming up to me in the library meant a lot,” I told her. “I was so excited when I told Julian I met you. Feels like kindred spirits, a bit.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve needed one. I was crapping myself when I found you in the library, thinking you might just tell me to fuck off, but you didn’t. I told Peter all about it over dinner. He thought it was epic. We’ve both been lonely, you know? Both me and him this past year. I guess that’s normal when you’re kicked out of your whole community.” She looked at me. “Did Julian leave his family for you?”

“No, no. He left and moved across from Oxford. We’ll, actually, that’s not true. He got thrown out. They caught him cheating, except he wasn’t cheating, not really. Things with his wife were over, even though they weren’t technically. It’s complicated. Still feels weird to think he has a family out there. He always seemed to be just a guy upstairs on his own that people said to stay away from.”

I knew I was rambling, so I took a breath, cheeks burning, well aware I was spilling a lot of info to a stranger. She didn’t judge me or him, though, just nodded along.

“Peter’s past is complicated, too. It was a hard choice for him, but his wife didn’t even like him anymore. She used to dump dinner in front of him along with the kids’, and as soon as they were in bed she’d just ignore him, chatting to her friends on the phone. She went out every weekend. He’s pretty sure she was cheating. It’s one of those things I guess, though. They found out about me, and he was suddenly a piece of shit because I’m younger. They said he must have been grooming, which was bullshit. I’d been into him for years.”

“Were you the first person he fucked outside of his marriage?”

“There was one other woman, down the street,” Lola said. “Lasted a few months, but he didn’t like her like her. It was casual. It’s another load of ammo for people. Serial womaniser. He’ll fuck you over.”

“You trust him though, right?”

“Yeah, I trust him, completely. How about you? Do you trust Julian?”

“I trust him one hundred percent.”

“Cool.” She turned towards me. “So, how old is he? People say the age gap is huge.”

I didn’t flinch. “Forty-eight.”

Even she rose her eyebrows, but she didn’t frown.

“Yep,” I said. “Thirty years between us.”

“Plenty old enough for him to know his own mind, then. That’s the way I see it. Unless he’s an absolute total liar, feeding you a whole load of total and utter bullshit, he must be pretty damn sure you’re the one.”

I hadn’t seen it quite like that. “He’s definitely not feeding me bullshit. I know that.”

“You feel it, right? I’m like that with Peter. He goes crazy for me. Not just in the bedroom, but everywhere. It’s better than anything else I’ve ever seen in other couples. Most people always seem to be whining about the person they’re with, or their relationships are full of drama or shit, you know?”

Yeah, I did know.

She laughed. “If anything, it’s the other way around. It’s us people should be worried about fucking them over. We’re the ones more likely to change our minds. Or you’d think so, based on their logic, since we’re so immature.”

Another good point.

“I can’t see me changing my mind on Julian. Not ever.”

“Me, neither. Me and Peter are for ever.”

I looked at her fresh, feeling the friendship, wanting to know her.

Her hair was in the same kind of braid as yesterday, but the ribbon was green this time. It caught the light so well, she looked like a mermaid. She was dressed in a turquoise mini dress, with big black boots on her feet. Cute. Somehow I doubted she had Peter’s Slut written on her in marker pen, but who was I to make that call? She could have his name tattooed all over her pussy for all I knew.

She took out a pack of cigarettes from her satchel and offered me one, but I turned her down with a thanks. I watched her light up, then opted for a pretty hardcore question.

“What is it about Peter that makes him the one?”

She didn’t hesitate.

“A million things. He’s really creative, but he doesn’t think so. He went into scaffolding work along with his dad when he was a teenager, and that hasn’t ever changed. He seems to think that because he’s not Picasso, there’s no point in trying. I think he’d be a brilliant artist, actually, if he gave himself the chance. He’s great at pointing out stuff when I’m working on mine, and his colour skills are crazy good. I just wish he’d give himself the chance and believed in himself as much as he believes in me. Maybe one day.” She looked at me. “What’s Julian like? I heard the rumours that he’s posh.”

“He’s posh, yeah. Looks amazing in a suit. He was a university professor, before he left Oxford.”

“What subject did he teach?”

“English,” I tapped into her creativity thread. “Years ago, he wanted to be an author. He’s amazing, too. Seriously. I’ve read some of his old manuscripts.”

“That must be fun. Maybe he’ll show me some of his words, if I show him some of my art?”

That made my heart soar. I’d love to see his face as someone else applauded him, because they would. He could create whole worlds at his fingertips, and they were so vivid, so real, so… awesome.

“Fancy coming over to ours sometime? Julian suggested it, actually. He’s a great chef, cooks an amazing meal. It would be great to hang out. I’d love to meet Peter, too.”

“Really?” She grinned so bright. “Sounds good to me. Might be a stepping stone to hitting the great outdoors. Imagine that. We could be out partying together before you know it. That would be dream worthy.”

The idea made me so happy. Friends.

“I’d love to see your art, too,” I said. “I noticed your backdrop on your laptop yesterday. You did that?”

“Yeah, I did. Can’t wait to get qualified and have more of an outlet. Hopefully. Roll on summer.”

She was in the same year as me. My exams and qualifications were looming. But I hadn’t thought about that, yet. I hadn’t really ever considered it. I’d never figured it was likely I’d be leaving Mum behind, my attention was usually all on her.

I sat with Lola on the college wall for way over an hour before we said our goodbyes and headed home. It wasn’t just forbidden lovers and being cast out by everyone we talked about, conversation flowed easily around the rest of life as well. We were two very different peas in a similar pod, nothing alike, but that didn’t matter. There was something that seemed to click between us. It was so nice to feel like that after so long. Thank you, Julian and Peter.

There were none of the idiot guys from block seven outside the garage on my way home today, and I wouldn’t have cared if there were. Julian had put paid to any nerves I’d have had on that score, just from shooting them a hostile glance. My fears were disappearing. I ignored all of the not so sly glances as I walked, really not giving a shit, still bouncing high on my chat with Lola when the top of my apartment block came into view, but so did the figures on the street in front of me, laughing as they turned the corner in my direction. Fucking hell. I should have expected it.

Mum had obviously called in sick at work again, and she must have figured I’d been straight home from college and not hanging out with a friend at the gates, because she took a step back when she saw me, as though she’d been hit in the gut. Trisha was by her side, and took her arm to support her like she was the best friend in the world, and I stood on the spot, not sure quite what to do. It would have probably been easier to decide if Trisha hadn’t been there guiding the scene. Me and Mum on our own would have been easier.

Fuck, I missed my mum. It hurt really bad.

“Come on, Bev,” Trish said, and tugged her to the side, ready to cross the street away from me.

I picked up my pace instinctively, wanting try to build bridges, just on sight of Mum, but Trisha’s grip tightened on Mum’s elbow, like she really was on a mission to defend her. That’s when it occurred to me – seeing the fire in Trisha’s eyes. On some fucked up level, Trisha was probably delusional about her own part in this universe, as warped and incestuous and socially twisted as it was. She likely thought she really was the friend Mum needed her to be. And that was the thing about the place. Suddenly it felt claustrophobic, and boxed in, everyone knowing everything about everyone else and casting judgement.

Before Julian infiltrated that as an outsider, I’d had no true idea or sense of it. It was just a smog of stifled energy I accepted as normal, because it was all I’d ever known. But now it felt like the veils were coming down. My vision clearing. The edges crisping in front of me.

“Mum–” I tried, before she had the chance to cross the street, but she wouldn’t look at me.

“Leave her alone,” Trisha snapped, but I ignored her, just kept on scurrying towards my mother. “She’s too upset to speak to you!” Trisha tried again, and that was likely true, but it didn’t stop me. It couldn’t.

I grabbed Mum’s other arm before they stepped out into the road, my own tears springing up as hers did.

“Talk to me,” I said. “Please, Mum. At least give it a chance.”

“Give him a chance, you mean,” she said. “No fucking way, Rosie. No chance. He’s disgusting. One day you’ll open your eyes and see the truth for yourself. Until then, you can both fuck right off!”

I broke my grip on her arm, taken aback by just how much she meant that. Any wavering she’d shown when I’d revealed the truth had shrivelled away, replaced by pure, nasty certainty. It took my breath when she walked away with Trisha, because it truly hit me then. I didn’t give a shit what anyone else in this estate thought, or at college, or on the street, but I cared about what Mum thought. I cared so much it hurt.

It was obvious that she wasn’t going to be messaging or trying to talk to me anytime soon. She wasn’t hovering with the message window open every evening on her phone, contemplating reaching out, like I’d been.

I watched her and Trisha walk down the road towards the Brewery Tavern until they disappeared out of view, my eyes filled with tears. I could imagine Trisha being proud of Mum for turning her back, but if only she knew the man Julian really was. I just wished she’d taken the chance to see for herself.

I tried to hide the tears when I reached our block, not wanting to put a dampener on Julian, or add to his shame, or take away from what a great time I’d had with Lola, but he saw right through it. He put his hands on my shoulders as soon as he saw my face.

“What happened?”

“I saw Mum.”

“I see.”

I tried to laugh it off, just a little. “She isn’t going to be knocking at the door any time soon.”

“Not unless it’s to punch me in the face.” His eyes were so caring. “Do you want to leave this place? Move away from this block and away from this drama, I mean? I know it must hurt, maybe too much to bear. You can still get to college. We’ll make sure of it. There are buses.”

I had a strange aversion to that idea, even though on some level it sounded like heaven. Getting out of Crenham Drive would have seemed like a dream a few months ago, but there was a deep sense of terror at that thought now. It felt like that would be the end of it – any chance I had of making up with Mum. If I left her behind. If I left this place behind. If I left my home behind…

She wouldn’t be coming after me.

“I can’t leave her,” I told him.

“I understand that, Rosie,” he said. “Believe me. I know how hard it is to walk away.”

For the first time, I got a true glimpse of the extreme pain he must have been in to leave his family behind in Oxford, with them telling him to fuck off and never come back. It was hard enough thinking of moving away from the same apartment block as Mum, let alone disappear from her life completely, without her even caring where I was going.

I pushed the thoughts aside as well as I could, taking a deep breath. No point darkening the day completely.

“I saw Lola again,” I told him. “We got on great.”

“We’ll be seeing them both, then?”

“Yeah, for sure. She was happy to come over. I told her you’re a great chef.”

“Let’s hope I live up to your praises.”

“You will.”

I dropped my bag on the floor before I spotted his laptop, sitting proudly at the dining table.

“You did it?” I asked him, looking up with a grin. “Did you really manage it? Did you write me a chapter?”

“It was incredibly easy to write you a chapter, angel.” He kissed my head. “You’ve given me an awful lot of content. I could write a whole series of filthy fantasies with you as the star. I could produce Julian Lockley’s dirty work, volumes one to seven hundred, no problem at all.”

His words made me smile, but I was already deep in the forbidden zone, desperate to read but nervous at the same time. Would it be me he was describing? How would I appear on the pages? How did he see me, when I was like that?

Only one way to find out.

“Can I read it?” I asked, and he gestured over to the dining chair.

“It’s ready and waiting. Sit yourself down. I hope you enjoy it.”

“Actually, I’m crapping myself,” I said. “I can’t believe this is going to be about me.”

He laughed at that, and pulled the chair out for me.

“You’re not the only one crapping yourself. I’m not feeling overly optimistic about my achievements.”

I took my seat, looking back at him as I plonked my butt down.

“How come? Your words are always amazing.”

He bent over to press his mouth to my ear. His breath was a whisper that gave me tingles right the way down to my clit.

“Because no filthy words could ever do you justice, my pure little angel, and this gets graphic. Extremely graphic.” He licked up my cheek, his filthy self coming to the fore, and my clit throbbed so hard I had to clench my thighs.

“Welcome to my imagination, sweetheart,” he said. “I hope you’re ready for it.”