Chapter Twenty-Seven

When we make our way back up to the house it's dark and Theo uses the torch on his phone to guide us. We walk close together but not touching, and yet my whole body is aware of him. I know that something has changed between us, and that when we get back inside we're going to have to talk about it.

I feel both terrified by that thought, and wildly elated. Because I'm done. I'm absolutely done with ignoring, and repressing, and being sensible. I have no idea if I will regret letting anything happen between me and Theo, but it seems pointless to continue worrying about it when it's abundantly clear that something already has. Now, it's just about acknowledging that, and working out what the hell we're going to do about it.

Theo opens the back door and moves to turn on a lamp. The sudden burst of light feels like a shock, and I blink, temporarily dazzled. When I open my eyes again, Theo stands in front of me.

‘Clementine,' he says, his voice hoarse. That's all, just my name, and it hangs there in the air between us.

I honestly don't know who moves first.

Maybe it's both of us at once, because we crash into each other with enough momentum behind us to have me rocking back on my heels, and what happens then is not sweet or slow or considered. It's a frenzy – his lips hard on mine, my tongue in his mouth, his hand gripping the back of my head. He makes a sound, a desperate sound that turns my knees to liquid as I press myself against him, wanting more. And, dimly, over the heat and the need and the hunger, I'm aware of a feeling flooding my whole body, rushing through my veins. Relief.

Thank God, it seems to say. Finally.

I lean into his body like I'm trying to melt into his bones.

I have no idea how long this goes on for – it could be minutes or hours or whole lifetimes – before a sound suddenly punches through into the moment, shrill and relentless.

My phone, I register. My phone is ringing. I pull back slowly from Theo, dazed. His eyes are unfocused, his chest heaving. I realize that his hand is up my shirt and mine is down the front of his jeans.

‘Theo,' I manage. ‘We… I…' I can't get any further because my brain is still lagging behind. My brain is too busy being the world's most enthusiastic cheerleader – doing somersaults straight into the splits and chanting Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! – to do anything useful like stringing words together.

Theo gathers his wits first. He drops his forehead to mine, just for a moment, eyes closed as he takes a deep, steadying breath. Then he wrenches himself back, away from me.

‘Too fast,' he manages, his voice sandpaper. ‘We need to talk first.'

‘Yes,' I agree dimly. ‘Talk first.'

‘You should get that,' he says, and I'm totally distracted by his hands doing his jeans back up. I want those hands all over me. I want those jeans on the floor or on fire, I don't care, I just want them off him.

‘What?' I say.

‘Your phone, Clemmie,' he laughs, rueful. ‘You should answer your phone.'

‘Oh, right.' I try harder to get a grip on reality, and then I pull my phone out of my pocket and answer it without looking at the screen.

‘Hello?' My voice is all breathless and husky. Theo combs his fingers through his rumpled hair. I watch his arm flex. His mouth is pink, his lips swollen.

‘Clemmie?' a man's voice says.

‘Yes?' I don't immediately recognize the voice and I pull the phone away to look at the number, but it's not in my contacts.

‘I thought you weren't going to answer,' the man says, his voice low, almost a purr. ‘I'm glad you did. I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.'

And that's when I catch up, that's when I realize who it is, whose voice is in my ear.

‘Sam?' I croak, and across from me Theo freezes.

‘Yeah, it's me. I got your number off Ripp, been trying to work up the courage to call you, and then I saw your sister post about your birthday on Instagram and it seemed like a sign from the universe, you know?'

I swallow. Theo reaches out, cups his hand around my elbow.

‘Why are you calling?' I ask.

Sam chuckles, and I hate that I remember that sound, that I used to love it, find it sexy and charming. Now it makes my stomach turn.

‘It was just really great running into you,' Sam says, and his tone is intimate, cajoling. ‘And I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. You looked good, Clemmie, really good, and it got me thinking about the way things were with us. I know it was a long time ago, but I just instantly felt that spark, you know? I felt twenty again, and I wondered if I could take you out… see if we were as good together as I remember. I think we could have a lot of fun.'

‘You… you're calling to ask me out?' Theo's fingers tighten on my elbow but I barely register it, because I am busy being consumed by a burning-white fury. There's a moment of silence before I combust. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?' I spit.

There's another pause. ‘Wait… what?' Sam says, and I don't know if he's playing dumb or if he's really that stupid and genuinely bemused.

‘You want to go out for a drink? See if shagging me is as good as it was when I was seventeen? Absolutely go fuck yourself, you toxic piece of shit. I hope you die alone and get eaten by cats. Actually, cats are way too good for you, I hope you get eaten by… by… slugs!' I slam my finger down on the screen to end the call, and then I throw my phone across the room, letting out a roar of anger that comes from somewhere deep inside me.

I don't think I even realize Theo is still in the room with me for several minutes. I feel like I have pins and needles all over my body, like I can't get enough air in my lungs.

Then Theo's arms are there, gently guiding me to the sofa, pushing me down so that I'm sitting. He disappears, and then returns moments later. He kneels down in front of me, brushes a few strands of hair gently away from my face, holds up a glass of water.

‘Take a deep breath,' he says. ‘And drink this.'

I sip the water, realize that I'm shaking, feel myself start to settle back into my body.

‘I can't believe that just happened,' I say finally. ‘That did just happen, right?'

Theo is still on his knees, worry written all over his face. ‘Yes, that happened.'

‘He… he…' I can't finish the sentence, can't believe that Sam has intruded here, here again in this house.

‘Clemmie,' Theo says softly, taking the glass of water away, holding my cold hands between his and rubbing them gently. ‘It's okay. You're okay.'

‘Yeah,' I say. ‘I'm okay. At least this time I managed to say how I really felt.' I chuckle weakly.

There's relief in Theo's eyes as his mouth tips up. ‘Yeah, I don't think you left much room for ambiguity there.'

‘Did I say I hoped he got eaten… by slugs?'

‘You did.' Theo's smile grows. ‘It was a very intimidating threat.'

‘I suppose it would be very slow,' I agree.

‘So slow,' Theo says solemnly. ‘And slimy too.'

‘Yeah,' I exhale. ‘He deserves all the slime.'

There's a beat, two, and then Theo asks, quietly, ‘Do you want to tell me about it?'

I nod, gesture to the sofa. Theo gets up and sits beside me. I pull my knees up to my chest, wrap my arms around them. ‘I think I should have told you earlier,' I say. ‘Should have explained…'

Theo stops me. ‘You don't owe me an explanation. You don't owe me anything. If you want to tell me I'd like to understand, but if you don't, then there's no pressure. None.'

I smile quaveringly at that. ‘It's not a big secret, exactly,' I sigh. ‘It's just not a very nice story, and I don't like telling it.' I think about it. ‘And to be honest, part of me feels, I don't know… foolish to still be carrying it around. I don't know why I can't let go of it, something that happened so long ago. It's obvious Sam doesn't even remember it.'

‘I don't know what happened,' Theo says, ‘but I know there's nothing foolish about the way you think or feel.'

‘I'd better tell you the whole story before you go making assumptions like that.'

Theo shakes his head. ‘I don't need to hear it to know whose side I'm on, Clemmie. I'm on your side, always.'

I swallow past the lump in my throat and decide it's best just to jump straight in, not to give myself an excuse to chicken out. ‘I met Sam when I was seventeen,' I begin, nervously wetting my lips. ‘I was on a night out with Serena and Lil and he came over to chat with us, but somehow it ended up being just the two of us, sitting in a corner, talking until two in the morning.'

I think back to that night, to the way it had felt, Sam singling me out. The weight of his full attention had been powerful, had made me feel important.

‘He was good-looking, charming, and – though I didn't know it then – he was the drummer in this up-and-coming indie band, just starting to get noticed. He had a magnetism about him, people were drawn to him, and he was interested in me. Shy, bookish, ordinary me.'

Theo makes a noise of protest at this and it makes me smile. ‘As I saw myself at the time, anyway. And you have no idea what seventeen-year-old Clemmie was like.'

‘She loved weirdly sexy medieval literature and she had an unhealthy interest in Ryan Gosling despite his extremely average looks, which speaks to her benevolence. And seventeen-year-old me would have been her best friend,' Theo says firmly.

I laugh then, a proper laugh, and some of the heaviness I'm feeling shifts. It makes it easier to carry on.

I take a deep breath. ‘I gave him my number that first night and he called me the next day and the next and the next. He made me feel like I was the most amazing, desirable girl in the world.

‘Even when I found out he was a musician it didn't bother me. I thought he was nothing like Ripp. He was so considerate; he listened to me, talked to me about books and music and art. He was a few years older and everything felt so grown-up. First love I suppose.' I wince. Theo stays quiet, his expression hard to read.

‘Then he started taking me out, partying more. I was underage but no one ever checked when I was with the band. They would play and I'd watch and then afterwards Sam would come and put his arm around me, call me his girl, let everyone know how lucky he was to have me. God, I bought into it completely,' I scoff, thinking – for maybe the billionth time at this point – that I must have been an idiot.

‘Why wouldn't you?' Theo asks. ‘From what you're telling me anyone would have. We're all romantic disasters at seventeen.'

I eye him doubtfully and Theo clearly reads my expression.

‘Hey, just wait until I tell you about my first girlfriend who was so nice when she was breaking up with me that I still thought we were together three weeks later when she stuck her tongue down Darryl Simmons's throat,' Theo says. ‘But there's plenty of time for my romantic disasters. We're talking about you.'

‘Right,' I nod, making a mental note to get the full story later, and feeling an irrational gut punch of jealousy and anger towards a nameless teenage girl.

‘So, we were going out a lot. Sam always insisted I went with them, said he didn't want to spend time away from me, said it was no fun for him if I wasn't there too.' I fiddle with the hem of my shorts, remember how stunned I'd been by the idea that there was someone who simply couldn't bear to be parted from me. I mean, you didn't need the years of therapy I had undergone to hear the foghorns screaming ‘DADDY ISSUES!!!!!', but hindsight is a bitch, isn't it?

‘At first it was fun,' I continue. ‘Then, one day the paparazzi started turning up, taking Sam's picture when we arrived or when we left. Just a photographer or two, not a big deal. Like I said, his band was taking off. They had fans. I didn't love it, but I understood. I tried to just stay out the way, hide behind Sam when the cameras flashed.' My palms are starting to sweat now, knowing we're approaching the more difficult bit.

‘Then, one night there were more paparazzi there than usual, and one of the photographers shouted my name… well, actually, not my name, but Clementine Harris, and the next day I was there, in the papers. I remember the headline: A RIPP OFF THE OLD BLOCK'.

Theo makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and an outraged splutter.

‘I know!' I wince. ‘Actually offensively bad writing apart from anything else. But there it was: this whole story about how Ripp's daughter was a party girl, shagging a musician. After that there were more pictures, more cameras everywhere we went and honestly it was just so messed up. In ways that I didn't fully understand at seventeen, but now…' I blow out a breath. ‘They'd try and take pictures up my skirt, catcall me, or shout questions about my sex life, anything to get a reaction out of me. At the time I didn't think of myself as a child, but I was, really, only seventeen. You're so vulnerable, aren't you? Right on the edge of adulthood and not sure what to do with it. The way they talked to me…'

Theo's stoic look is strained now.

‘It was awful. I was so unhappy. It really messed me up. I started having crippling panic attacks, didn't want to leave the house, and Sam kept saying they were all bastards but that we shouldn't let it stop us living our lives, that we knew it was all bullshit, so who cared? I wanted so badly to keep him that I just agreed, and it kept happening and it got worse and worse.' I'm talking faster now, the words pouring out of me.

‘They kept taking more and more pictures, choosing shots where Sam would be holding my arm looking like he was supporting me, or where I'd be looking wild and upset by them. I stopped eating, made myself ill. Eventually they ran this story about how I had a drug problem, and how my dad was distraught about it all and trying to get me into rehab.' I blink indignantly at Theo here. ‘And I never touched drugs. I mean, once I ate a hash cookie with Lil and Serena and I spent the whole night curled up in a ball thinking that words were shapes that were trying to squash me, and every time Lil or Serena spoke it was a deliberate act of attempted murder. So that pretty much soured me on the whole experience.'

Theo clears his throat. ‘What happened after that story came out?'

‘I mean, thank God this was before social media really took off, but I was still scared that the university I was going to were going to hear about it, that it was going to completely destroy my life, so I went to Ripp.' I grimace. ‘Big mistake. I begged him to talk to the papers, get them to back off, tell them that none of the stories were true. He just shrugged it off and told me it would all die down soon enough and not to let it bother me. He even made a joke about how I was finally showing everyone that I was my father's daughter, as if at last I'd done something to make him proud. I felt like I was going mad.'

‘Fucking Ripp,' Theo mutters, only endearing himself to me more.

‘Yeah. I was so angry with him, but Sam told me it was wrong to hold this stuff against Ripp, that I shouldn't let my relationship with him be destroyed by childish hurt feelings.' I rub my fingers against my forehead.

‘In hindsight, he was pushy about it, saying he'd talk to my dad with me, that he'd be there, that he wouldn't leave me to face this alone, but at the time I thought he was being supportive. We had lunch together, the three of us, and Sam was on top form, charming the pants off Ripp, laughing, bonding over how much he loved Ripp's music, how much he admired him – which you know Ripp was just eating up. And I sat there, miserable. I couldn't do it, couldn't get past everything with my dad. I so rarely asked him for anything, it seemed cruel to withhold help when it would cost him so little, it felt too much like he'd abandoned me again.'

I blink back sudden tears. Theo mutters more swear words under his breath, and shuffles a little closer to me, though I don't think he's even aware he's doing it.

I take a deep breath. ‘The day Sam and I split up, he told me that Ripp had offered him a job as the drummer in his band. I was totally thrown, and I asked him not to accept. I couldn't understand why he would even consider it when he knew how complicated my relationship with my dad was, how hard it would be for me.' I hesitate here, because this part of the story is one I haven't told anyone except Ingrid – not even Lil and Serena.

‘He… he said that I was being selfish. That this was his big chance. He told me that he wasn't going to be another person whose dreams were destroyed by me. I didn't understand what he was talking about, until he spelled it out. He meant my mum, that she'd given up her career for me, to protect me. That she'd given up her dream, and it was all my fault.'

Theo gets abruptly to his feet.

‘Fuck.' He's angry now. ‘Fuck that guy. He actually said that to you? But you know that's bullshit, right?'

I smile weakly. ‘I mean, I know it's not my fault I was born,' I say. ‘But Sam was only saying something I'd already thought myself. And I've had a lot of therapy so it's not that I think it's my fault. It doesn't mean I don't still feel guilty.'

‘What? Why?'

‘Well, you know, the press went nuts when Mum and Ripp got divorced, the whole three babies thing. I think if she'd stayed in the business it would have been even worse, the attention on us. I can't imagine she'd have wanted that. And her and Ripp split up, so she was basically a single mum. I don't see what choice she had, really. And it's still hard for me – with the music – when my mum sings…'

Understanding dawns in his eyes. ‘Have you ever spoken to her about it?'

I shake my head. ‘No, maybe I will one day, but I don't know…'

Theo sits heavily back down on the sofa. ‘What happened after that?'

I grimace. ‘Believe it or not, things got worse. The news of the breakup leaked. We had paparazzi at the door; I felt I'd dragged everyone into my mess. My mental health took another hit. It was all quite… traumatic. The fact that Sam was working with Ripp now made the story bigger. In the end my mum stepped in. I finally came clean with her about what had been going on. I'd been doing my best to hide how badly I was handling things from, well… everyone. She got Uncle Carl to speak to the papers, and then Ava got involved too, started threatening everyone who even breathed near me with all sorts of legal action. That's how we found out…' My stomach twists, a memory of how I had felt the day it had all come out, the day Ava had had to sit me down at the kitchen table and break it to me.

‘It had been Sam all along. He'd told the press about me and about who my dad was; he told them where we would be and when, helped stage the worst of the pictures, sold them fake stories about me. He'd done it all to boost his profile, get his name out there.'

‘He… did what?' Theo sounds stunned.

‘Yup. Everything had been a big lie. He'd known who I was from the start, had his eye firmly on the prize. I tried to talk to Ripp about it, but Sam smoothed it all over, made it seem like I was some hysterical teenager, upset about being dumped. Mum offered to get involved, but – honestly – when Ripp wouldn't take my word for it, I just couldn't bear to have anything to do with either him or Sam anymore. They were welcome to each other. So Sam got what he wanted, while I ran up here to hide and wallow, totally devastated.'

Theo sits silently for a long moment, stared at his hands. The muscle in his jaw keeps ticking. ‘That was when you were up here with Granny Mac for the last time?' he asks finally.

‘Yes, and you know how awful that was.' I sigh. ‘But even when I was the world's worst house guest – either snapping at her or haunting the place like a sad ghost – she took care of me. She got Lil and Serena to come up and do the ritual. She knew all about our witchy games, and I think she was pretty desperate at that point. But it did help; it was… cathartic. We cast the spell and then we buried it here in the garden with all the other spells we'd ever cast. It felt final, momentous. Lil and Serena made wishes for me as well as a curse on Sam, just to get me to do something hopeful. It was the first time I started to feel better. It took me a long time to get back – medication and lots of therapy, but it started there.' My eyes are wet now and this time I let the tears fall. ‘I never even thanked Granny Mac for making it happen.'

Theo pulls me into his arms, and I crawl into his lap, letting him wrap himself around me. ‘I'm so sorry, Clemmie,' he murmurs into my hair. ‘I'm so sorry that happened.'

‘It was a long time ago,' I say against his collarbone.

He only tightens his grip on me.

We sit like that for a while, until I feel the tension start to ebb out of my body, until I soften against him, my head nestled in the crook of his neck, my hands tucked around his waist, pressed between his back and the sofa cushions. He strokes my hair and my breathing slows, my eyes flutter closed. I've never felt so safe, so comforted.

The next thing I'm aware of is that I'm being hauled around like a sack of potatoes.

‘Gah!' I flail, smacking Theo in the face.

‘Fuck!' he exclaims, trying not to lose his grip on me and sinking his fingers hard into my hip.

‘Ow!' I squeal. ‘Put me down!'

‘Why are you trying to kill us both?' Theo puffs, setting my windmilling feet down on the stair above the one he's standing on.

I take a second to reorientate myself, grab hold of the banister before glaring at him. ‘Why are you carrying me up the stairs?'

‘Because you fell asleep. It was supposed to be a tender moment, but I think you've broken my nose,' Theo grumbles, lifting his hand to his perfect nose and checking for damage. I eye Theo's face, which, aside from being a bit pink (I am no lightweight no matter how many bicep curls you do), looks absolutely fine.

‘Next time just wake me up,' I say.

‘Oh, if only I had thought of that!' Theo smacks his palm against his forehead. ‘No, wait, I did try – very gently – to wake you up, and you growled at me.'

‘I did not!'

Theo is laughing now. ‘Yes, you did. You drooled on my T-shirt and then you growled at me, and honestly I was afraid you were going to start biting me again next, so I very chivalrously decided to carry you up to your bed.'

‘Is it chivalrous to point out when a woman has drooled on you?' I ask, turning and climbing up the rest of the stairs, Theo behind me.

‘Imagine if you'd broken my nose, Clemmie,' he says from over my shoulder. ‘You wouldn't be getting any more flowers from David then.'

‘Oh! My flowers.' I spin back. ‘I need to put them in water.'

I'm standing at the top of the stairs now, but Theo is still a step below me. Our faces are almost level, and I get to enjoy a close-up view of his amused expression. Our lips are almost level too, and that is even more distracting.

‘I put the flowers in water earlier,' he says, and I watch his mouth form each word.

‘Oh, good.' I lick my lips, and something flares in Theo's gaze.

The moment stretches, heavy with promise.

I move aside so that Theo can climb the final stair, which he does, his whole body brushing up against mine.

‘Well,' I say, and then no other words seem to happen. My heart picks up again, pounding. We haven't talked about the kiss yet. The whole Sam thing was obviously a mood-killer, but where do we stand now? Should I invite him into my room?

Theo takes a step towards me, crowding me back against the door to my bedroom. Oh my God, my body screams. This is it!!!!

‘Goodnight, Clemmie,' he says softly, leaning forward and brushing a kiss across my cheek, an all-too-brief moment of contact. ‘And happy birthday.'

Then he turns and walks towards his own bedroom.

‘Oh, yes. You too,' I squeak, flustered. ‘I mean, not happy birthday to you, because it's not. Your birthday, I mean. But goodnight to you… too.' I think I hear Theo chuckle as he closes the door behind him, clearly no longer in any hurry to rip my clothes off.

My head crashes back against the door and I close my eyes in mortification.

Super cool, Clemmie.It looks like thirty-three is off to an auspicious start.