Angel Kiss (4 page)

‘Thanks, Colin,’ I said when I’d logged out. ‘I really miss having Internet; you feel so cut off without it. I can get it on my phone but I never have enough credit and the coverage is really bad here anyway so it takes forever to load.’

‘Tell me about it – it’s so annoying. You’re welcome to come down here and use it any time you want,’ he said.

‘Oh, thanks!’

Colin was turning out to be a nice guy.

‘I’m sure you could even stay over sometime if you needed a break. I’d go insane if I had to live in the same room as my mam.’

‘Wouldn’t your mam have something to say about … y’know, me staying here?’

‘Nah, she wouldn’t mind, she knows you’re not my type,’ said Colin with a laugh.

‘Well, you’re not my type either!’ I snapped.

‘No, sorry, that’s not what I meant, Jacki. I’m … I’m gay. Sorry, I presumed you knew.’ Colin looked down at his feet, and I instantly regretted being so snappy.

He’d taken me completely by surprise. ‘Oh! No … nobody told me.’

‘Well, it’s not such a big deal any more, I suppose. It was hard at first, but I came out last year so by now most people around here just accept it.’

‘That’s really cool. And I would definitely like to stay over sometime.’

‘So what’s
your
type then?’ said Colin as I followed him back into the sitting room.

‘Em … I dunno really,’ I said, but Nick Reynolds’s name suddenly popped into my head. I had tried to forget about him, but I just wasn’t able to. Colin probably knew him … It was such a small village. Maybe I could find out more about him. ‘So …’ I said. ‘I was thinking maybe you could introduce me to some of your friends? I know literally nobody here.’

‘Sure, there’s a good gang in Avarna. I’ll let you know what’s going on. Here, let me take your number now,’ he said, taking out his phone.

‘Thanks,’ I said with a smile and called it out. ‘Well … I’ve already met two people: Nick from the shop and his girlfriend, but only briefly.’

‘Nick’s one of my best mates!’ said Colin excitedly.

‘No way.’ I tried to sound casual, but was really happy to hear that. I thought of quizzing Colin about Nick and Sarah’s relationship, but I didn’t want to be too obvious, so I decided to leave it till another time.

Through the sitting-room window I could see Des’s van pulling up outside his terraced house across the road. He walked round the van and helped an old woman out of the passenger side. Taking her by the arm, he led her to his front door.

‘Is that Des’s mum?’ I asked.

Colin glanced out the window. ‘Yes. He lives with her. She hasn’t been too well lately.’

‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘She had pneumonia.’

‘Oh no, the poor woman.’ I watched the dark figures moving behind the lace curtains.

‘She’s recovering though,’ said Colin, leaning back on the couch.

‘Did his wife die? Or is he divorced?’ I asked as I rearranged the cushions a bit to get comfortable.

‘He never married,’ said Colin.

‘Really?’ I decided not to mention Des and my mum. Talking about something can make it feel more real sometimes. And there was no way I wanted him to become part of our lives.

Just as Des’s door closed, the door of the shop opened and Mary walked out and got into her car.

‘Have you met the infamous Mary Reynolds yet?’ said Colin, nodding in her direction.

‘I have indeed.’

‘Very quiet woman,’ he said. I giggled. ‘Mary’s one of my aunt Lydia’s best friends,’ he added, offering me some more popcorn. ‘She and my mam are organizing a surprise fiftieth for Mary. Along with Joe Clancy.’

‘Oh, your mam was telling us about that earlier. I’d say Mary will be delighted.’

‘It should be good craic.’

I finished off my handful of popcorn, then looked over at the cabinet again.

‘Where did you get that?’ I asked, pointing at the porcelain egg.

‘The egg? Oh, it’s Lydia’s. It’s been there for years. Why?’

‘No reason really. I just think it’s really pretty. I used to have one with a little swan inside it. My dad bought it for me. But I broke it.’ I’d dropped it a few weeks before he died and had been really upset because I loved it. He’d promised to buy me a new one, but he never got the chance.

‘Where is your dad tonight?’ asked Colin.

‘My dad … he died a few years ago,’ I said.

‘I didn’t realize … sorry.’ Colin started to fidget with his sleeve again.

‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘You couldn’t have known. He died when I was nine.’ Sometimes it surprised me how easily I was able to talk about my dad now.

‘What happened to him?’ asked Colin.

‘He had a tumour. He’d been sick for a while.’

Colin nodded and then looked away.

‘Is there something inside that one?’ I said, changing the subject.

‘Which?’

‘The egg; is there something inside it?’ I’m not sure why, but I really wanted to touch it. Maybe because it brought back memories.

‘Open it if you want.’

‘Can I?’ I didn’t know why I felt such a rush of excitement.

‘Yeah, sure.’

I opened the door of the wooden cabinet, clasped my fingers round the smooth turquoise porcelain and lifted the egg out. I gently pulled it open. Inside there was a little silver heart, studded with tiny sparkling crystals.

‘Wow.’

‘Nice, isn’t it?’ said Colin. ‘I used to be fascinated by it as a
kid. But I wasn’t allowed to touch it. I used to open it when Lydia wasn’t here. She’d have killed me if she’d found out.’

I stared at it for a few moments. As I placed it back in the cabinet I could hear loud music blasting through the wall.

‘Is that Iggy Pop?’

‘Yep.’

‘Where is it coming from?’

‘Lydia’s shop,’ said Colin. ‘She’s a little bit crazy, in a good way. Come on and I’ll introduce you.’

I followed Colin out the front door. Just a few steps away was the bright shopfront of Lydia Jones Designs. I’d spotted it on our first visit to the village, but figured it would be way too expensive for my budget. Colin pushed open the door and we stepped into a wonderful little clothes store. Racks of beautiful handmade dresses hung on multicoloured beaded hangers, and pink shelves held suede clutch bags and charming costume jewellery. A half mannequin in the centre wore a pretty red dress with an empire waist and lace hem.

Colin weaved through the racks towards the back of the shop where a woman whom I guessed was Lydia sat at a desk working on a sewing machine. She was surrounded by a mess of fabric and buttons and beads, and clearly hadn’t heard us come in. She was bopping her head up and down, and singing along to the music. Like Colin she had pale skin, but hers had only a few freckles. Her hair was dyed purple and she wore what looked like one of her own designs, a yellow shift dress with a collar of white felt daisies. It was the kind of outfit that only somebody very quirky could pull off.

Colin waved his hand in front of her face and her head jerked up. She reached for the stereo and turned the music down.

‘Hello!’ she said in a cheery voice.

‘This is Jacki,’ said Colin. ‘She’s just moved here.’

‘Hi, Jacki, nice to meet you.’ She stood up and held out her hand. I noticed that her fingernails were painted neon pink.

‘Nice to meet you too,’ I said, shaking her hand. ‘I really like your dresses. They’re amazing.’

‘And your dress is adorable,’ she said.

‘Oh, thanks!’

‘I love vintage too. I use a lot of antique materials in my designs.’ Lydia sat back down on her swivel chair.

‘People come from all over to get dresses made here,’ said Colin. ‘She’s practically famous.’

‘Oh, stop!’ said Lydia with a giggle.

I liked Lydia immediately. She was wonderfully weird.

‘We could hear your music through the wall again,’ said Colin, picking up a piece of blue fabric from one of the chairs and fashioning it into a belt round his waist.

‘I can’t concentrate without loud music,’ Lydia explained. ‘I need it, but it drives my sister crazy.’

‘You need to get earphones,’ said Colin.

‘It’s not the same,’ said Lydia and I in unison, and we both laughed. ‘I play albums on repeat when I’m working on a design,’ Lydia added. ‘Each dress a different album.
Lust for Life
will forever be fused in my brain with metal sequins and lace.’

Colin was so lucky – I would have loved an aunt like Lydia. I couldn’t imagine her being best friends with Mary though. The two of them were completely different.

‘Anyway, what do you guys think?’ Lydia held up the dress. It was beautiful, turquoise with a purple lace hem and metal sequins on the bodice.

‘Wow. That’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen,’ I said.

‘Fabulous!’ said Colin.

‘It’s the same colour as your porcelain egg,’ I noticed.

‘Yes, it’s exactly the same colour,’ said Colin. ‘Where did you get that egg again?’

‘What egg?’ Lydia enquired, fixing the dress’s collar.

‘The porcelain egg in the cabinet. Jacki was admiring it.’

‘Oh, that thing. A friend gave it to me. A long time ago.’

‘Which friend was that?’ asked Colin.

‘Just an old friend – you don’t know her.’

‘It’s lovely,’ I said.

Lydia looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Yes, it is nice,’ she agreed.

‘Colin, are you in there?’ called Brigid from the doorway. ‘Jacki’s mum is heading home.’

‘I’d better go,’ I said. ‘I’ll be back to have a look around your shop sometime.’

‘Yes, definitely drop in,’ said Lydia. ‘We can listen to extra-loud music together.’

Colin walked me out to the shop door and even gave me a hug as we said our goodbyes.

I lay in bed that night smiling, pleased that I’d actually made a new friend. Colin was so cool and, as an added bonus, he knew Nick really well. I realized Nick had a girlfriend, but maybe they hadn’t been going out that long. Or maybe they’d been going out for ages and were headed for a break-up. A girl can dream.

The following afternoon I sat on my bed, reading Mum’s copy of
Vogue
. I was flicking absent-mindedly through the pages when I came across an article called ‘Interpreting Your Dreams’. I sat up a little straighter, excited that I might finally get some insight into my one. I scanned through it and, sure enough, there was a bit about recurring nightmares.

‘
These dreams are probably trying to tell you something. Dreams like these are often chilling and frightening, which makes you take notice of them.’

So my dream was trying to tell me something. What the hell was it trying to say?

‘Read my horoscope!’ said Mum, having spotted me with the magazine. She stirred her coffee and sat down at the table.

‘Mum, you know I think horoscopes are a load of rubbish,’ I reminded her.

‘Read it anyway – it’s a bit of fun. Go on …’ she said, poking me on the shoulder.

‘Fine.’ I put on my best mystical voice. ‘
Love is on the horizon, and a long-term union may materialize in the near future. A certain someone could revolutionize important aspects of your life.’

Mum smiled to herself and I rolled my eyes.

‘I’ll read yours,’ she said, snatching the magazine before I could object. ‘
A testing time awaits you. Events force you to examine your fundamental beliefs and to question your path in life.
How dramatic! A testing time awaits you, Jacki!’

‘Yeah, me and all the other Capricorns on the planet.’

‘You’re so sceptical,’ said Mum in exasperation.

‘I don’t see a problem with that,’ I said, adjusting my pillow. ‘Have you got any other magazines?’

‘No. But I do have this.’ She threw a copy of the local newspaper on to my lap.

I flicked through the pages, spotting some people I recognized from the village in the ‘Out and about’ section. There were photos from an eighteenth birthday party, and it looked like the birthday girl had been snapped mid-sentence, because her face was weirdly scrunched up. It reminded me of the photo of Hannah and me that Sophie had put online a few months ago. We’d been laughing at something, and hadn’t realized there was a camera around. As a result we both looked deranged and very unattractive. Sophie was terrible for not censoring her photos and just putting anything up. At least the paper would be in everyone’s recycling bin next week but those photos were online forever. There were a few planning notices at the back of the paper and then a list of anniversaries. My eyes were drawn to the last one.

CULLEN – Birthday remembrance of our dear daughter Beth Cullen, late of Miner’s Way, Avarna, whose birthday occurs on 16 July. Always remembered by your loving family.

I wondered if she was related to Jim Cullen, the man who’d just died. Avarna was a small village so it was possible. The notice didn’t say when the daughter had died but if it was the same family then they’d been through a double tragedy.

Later that evening, Mum put on her long grey cardigan and stepped into her pink wellingtons. ‘I’m just going out to the house for a minute,’ she said.

‘I’ll come with you,’ I offered.

Mum took the torch with her as the evening light was fading and the electricity wasn’t connected in the house. I closed the caravan door and followed Mum up the front garden. When we’d first visited the house, the garden had been my favourite part. The house had been shabby and rundown but the garden was overgrown and beautiful. It was full of wild flowers and reminded me of the gardens in Jane Austen adaptations that my mum and I used to watch on TV when I was little. Right now it was in a bit of a mess because of all the work that was going on, but the house was coming along nicely. The new windows and doors had been fitted, the gable had been painted and the broken roof tiles had been replaced. I couldn’t wait until everything was finished and we could move in. I had convinced myself that once we moved into the house my recurring nightmare would stop and things would start to fall into place. At the moment we were in a kind of
limbo. The caravan was a capsule, suspending us between our old life and our new one.

There was a quarter of an acre of barren ground at the rear of the house, surrounded by a rotting wooden fence and an overgrown hedge. It was full of building materials and rubbish
and I tried to imagine it with nice paving and potted plants. On a bright day you could see the beautiful mountains in the distance and I was sure it would be a nice place to sit once it was cleaned up.