Carrie Goes Off the Map (12 page)

Later turned out to be
much
later. The sparks from the fire were white and orange and scarlet against the darkening sky as Carrie sat on the beach that evening. She had Spike's arm around her back and they were sharing a joint. Well, it was a birthday party—even if Lola hadn't actually turned up.

Baz was playing the guitar and Carrie felt mellow. Mellow yellow. Baz was really, really brilliant. He was fantastic. He should go on
The
X
Factor
, she thought. Maybe she should phone up Simon Cowell and tell him about Baz.

‘You should be on the telly,' she said to Baz when he'd finished his song, but no one seemed to hear her. Oh well, she thought, maybe she was invisible. Now that would be fun. She could sneak into the men's locker room at the health club… She laughed, laughed until her sides hurt and she was rolling about in the sand.

‘How are you, Caroline?' said a voice.

She turned her head, which took ages. Spike was next to her, grinning, and his mouth was huge, like a big open cave. ‘Can you get up, sweetheart?'

‘I'm amazing, and…' She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Did you know I'm invisible?'

‘I think not,' said Spike.

‘Oh, I am. You know. I think we've all become invisible,' she said. ‘Which is tricky, because if we can't see each other, we're going to be bumping into one another and—'

‘Carrie, you're talking out of your arse.'

His voice sounded harsh but she didn't care. ‘You know, I might be. Or you might be because I can't see you but I can hear you, so maybe you're
really
talking out of your arse.'

‘Come on. Get up. It's five o'clock in the morning.'

He pulled her up off the sand like a puppet on a string. She was bouncing slowly up and down and it felt so mellow. She blinked. Her eyes weren't working very well so she tried to hold them open really wide. She needed matchsticks to prop them open like Tom and Jerry did in cartoons. But hey. This was totally
weird
. ‘You smell nice,' she said. ‘You're not Spike. You're Matt.'

‘Have a gold star. Now come home.'

‘Nah. Don't be silly.'

‘You're stoned.'

‘No. I'm just enjoying myself. You're a boring old fart.'

‘You know, Carrie, I'm trying very hard to be patient here. But if you carry on like this, I'm going to get—'

‘
Very
cross. Very, very cross. I know. You'll report me to the head and I'll be expelled.'

‘For God's sake, woman, stand up.'

It was funny, being on her feet. It was so funny, she was laughing. Laughing like a drain, whatever a drain laughed like.

‘Ow! You're hurting me, you spoilsport prefect,' she protested.

‘Whatever you say. We need to take you home.'

‘I don't wanna go home. I want to stay here with my friends. Whoa…'

‘Your friends aren't here, Carrie… Be careful, Lola. She's heavier than she looks.'

‘I am
not
fat.'

‘It's fine. I can manage her,' the other prefect said as she took flight again. That was it. That was
it
! She was a kite caught by the wind, and Matt and his friend were flying her.
Wheeeee!

***

‘For fuck's sake,' said Matt, as Carrie collapsed on top of him and he struggled to wriggle free. ‘She weighs a bloody ton.'

‘Do you think she'll be all right?' asked Lola.

Carrie lay in the sand, waving her arms and legs. ‘Lola? Is that you? Look, I'm an angel.'

Lola knelt beside her. ‘Yes. It's me. Are you all right?'

‘Please don't let that nasty man take me home. I want to stay with you and my friends. I'm having such a great time. I can fly, you know.'

‘You
are
home,' said Lola.

‘Oh, lovely,' said Carrie, snuggling up under her warm Take That duvet, fresh from the airing cupboard. ‘You are so lovely, Lola. Like a beautiful mermaid. Will you wake me up when Terry Wogan comes on?'

***

The next morning, Carrie had a stomach like the contents of a hoover bag. She wasn't in a fit state to have a conversation, but she knew that she'd been brought back to the van in the early hours by Matt and Lola. She remembered having a beer, and then oblivion. It was like the whole night had been erased. She might have ended up in the sea, or Tuman, and she'd have been none the wiser. She thought that Lola or Matt—or both—had been stroking her hair as she knelt beside the loo, then held her up as she nearly passed out.

‘Ganja shouldn't make you sick. Unless you had some other stuff with it,' said Matt.

‘Is she okay?'

As Lola spoke, Carrie tried to turn her head. Big mistake.

Bleurghhh
…

‘I don't deserve this,' she muttered.

‘Me neither,' said Matt grimly.

When she'd stopped being sick, when she'd sat there on the floor of the cubicle for half an hour without throwing up again, he left, leaving her a pile of clothes and a toothbrush. She staggered back to the van, where Lola was sitting on the steps, her chin on her hand, like a Gothic pixie.

‘Are you feeling better now?' asked Lola, looking very worried.

‘Yes thank you,' said Carrie in a teeny, tiny voice.

‘Can I get you a cup of ginger and chamomile tea?'

Carrie smiled weakly. She was grateful for Lola's help, but the thought of chamomile tea made her want to barf again. ‘A glass of water would be nice. Matt said I was on my own. What happened to Spike and Baz and the others?'

Lola seemed embarrassed. ‘They were stoned in their van. I don't expect they meant to leave you. They might not have known you were there.'

Carrie was confused. Surely they hadn't just left her. ‘But how did you find me?'

‘I went out with Matt. We went clubbing in town, and when we came back we went for a walk on the beach.' Lola faltered as Matt appeared. ‘Then we found you.'

‘Oh God. Was I that bad?'

Lola nodded. ‘You were stoned. I think you had my birthday present.'

‘Thanks for bringing me back here. I don't know where I'd have ended up without you. Probably washed ashore on a desert island.'

‘Oh there was no need to worry about that. The tide was going out, but Matt said you might have choked on your own vomit if we'd left you.'

‘Nice,' said Carrie, feeling nauseous again.

‘Not really. I've seen it happen a few times,' said Matt, grinning.

Lola glanced up at Matt with an expression close to hero worship. ‘Do you think she's going to be okay on her own? Do you think one of us should be here to watch her? I don't mind staying with her but you're the professional.'

‘Oh, I think she can be safely left, if she behaves herself for the rest of the day,' he said.

Carrie bit back a very rude word.

‘The guys will be along to pick us up in about twenty minutes,' said Matt. ‘Why don't you go and get your stuff, Lola?'

Lola seemed reluctant but Matt spoke firmly. ‘Carrie will probably be better left on her own, and anyway, I promised to teach you to dive.'

‘Okay. I'll get my things. Back soon.'

When Lola was out of earshot, Carrie said to Matt, ‘You think I'm an idiot, don't you?'

‘No. I don't think you're an idiot. We've all been there. Don't you remember what I got up to at uni?'

Carrie watched him pack his diving gear into a bag, thinking that she hadn't really known him that well at university at all. He'd been Huw's friend but they hadn't hung out together that much. He'd just been one of the rugby crowd and a drinking buddy. Matt had existed on the outer edge of her universe, while Huw had been at the center.

Today Matt was wearing board shorts and a gray T-shirt that was a little too tight to cope with his broad shoulders. His thick, coal-black hair was wet from the shower and glistening in the morning sunlight. She could see why so many other woman
had
noticed him at university, and how easily he might have occupied the center of their universes. Lola certainly seemed to have an enormous crush on him.

Hoisting the bag on his shoulder, he said, ‘You seem fine now, so I'm taking Lola diving. Despite what I said about leaving you alone, you can come if you want to,' he added gruffly.

‘I think I'll pass if you don't mind, but thanks for asking,' said Carrie, knowing they both wanted her to come diving about as much as they wanted a hole in the head. But at least he'd asked… Suddenly she felt horribly emotional. It must be the drugs, she told herself, rather than how touched she was that Matt and Lola had cared when Spike hadn't given a toss.

Carrie was getting some fresh air on the beach that afternoon when she saw Spike. He was surfing and seemed as fresh as a daisy. Lucky bloody Spike. She watched him for a while and thought he hadn't noticed her. Then he walked out of the waves.

‘Hi there. How you doing?' he said, as if the previous night hadn't happened.

‘I've felt better.'

Carrie waited for him to elaborate or apologize. He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Yeah. Sorry about losing touch last night. I was so out of it, I can't remember what happened, but I knew someone would look out for you.'

He'd left her there. He knew he had and he didn't care.

‘I went home with Lola and Matt,' she said, leaving out the part about being carried home. The odd snatch was returning to her. She remembered something about flying a kite…

‘Are you coming in the water today?' Spike asked.

The sea was seething and boiling, the waves shifting and rolling, rather like her stomach had been. ‘Maybe not today, thanks.'

‘Like I've said already, in a few months you'll start to get the hang of it. You might even get to stand up for more than a few seconds,' said Spike with a grin she guessed was meant to be cheeky but just seemed guilty.

‘I'll take your word for it.'

He seemed twitchy and picked up his board. ‘I'm going to catch some waves. Not every day you get surf like this; it's too good to waste. I'll see you tonight then?'

‘Maybe. Maybe tomorrow,' she said.

‘I think you should know, I was planning on tonight being my last one here,' he said casually.

So he was moving on already. She waited for the pang of regret, the twist in her stomach, but only felt a kind of freedom. Like she'd been scoured out and cleansed, though that could have been her hangover. He carried on. ‘I've been off work long enough so I can't hang around here any longer. You should, though. You might even get Matt on a board.'

‘I don't think so. I thought you said you were going to spend the whole summer surfing. I thought that was why you quit your job in the first place.'

He toed the sand, and Carrie realized this was the first time she'd ever seen him look anything other than totally sure of himself. ‘Yeah. I know it's crap, but I'm twenty-eight. I can't spend my life surfing. I need a job. A place to live.'

‘You said you used to work in an office and you hated it. What are you going to do back home?'

If it hadn't been so tanned, his face might have turned red as he looked away at the sea and then, almost, back at her. ‘I was a tax inspector.'

Carrie burst out laughing but Spike didn't. He looked like a schoolboy who'd been caught cheating. ‘Somebody has to do it,' he said.

‘But a tax inspector? I just didn't think you… You mean you worked for the Inland Revenue?'

‘So what? We all get shafted by society in the end. We all get in our family sedans and trundle off to the rat race. I can still surf at the weekends and holidays. So I'll see you tonight on the beach? We can have a farewell party,' he said, a wheedling note creeping into his voice.

Carrie knew he was hoping she'd sleep with him again. After what he'd done, he expected just to pick up where they'd left off. The scales had fallen from her eyes with a resounding clatter. Spike wasn't a free spirit. He was selfish and shallow, and his world revolved around him alone. She didn't want that; she deserved better.

‘Why not?' she said, but she knew she wouldn't be at the party. He leaned forward and gave her a salty kiss before jogging back to the sea, his board under his arm.

***

When she got back to the van, Matt was lying outside the awning, flicking through some medical journal. He was lying on his stomach, in shorts. His bronzed back was bare and his tattoos were startlingly obvious. They really were something, and she had a strange urge to reach out and touch them.

‘Had enough of the ocean?' he said without turning round.

She dumped her stuff on the grass. ‘For today. You had enough of hunting mermaids?'

Flipping over, he propped himself up on one elbow. He had dark hair around his nipples, a trail arrowing down his stomach.

‘My friends are on the night shift at the hospital. They had to get back and get some rest.'

She sat down next to him and hugged her knees. ‘Matt?'

‘Yes, Caroline?'

‘Do you mind if we move on from here?'

‘What? Now?'

‘Yes. I'd like to see somewhere different. We've spent long enough here.' She hesitated. ‘If that's okay with you. I don't want to ruin any plans you might have.' She was thinking of Lola.

‘What about your plans for tonight?' he said carefully.

‘I don't have any plans for tonight. I've never had any plans other than to enjoy myself.'

Matt still didn't know, of course, that Spike had asked her to stay one last night and that she had decided to pass on the invitation. She wasn't sure why she'd decided to walk away, but it definitely wasn't the fact that he'd turned out to be a tax inspector and more to do with his obsession with himself.

‘If we are going, I need to say goodbye to Lola first,' Matt said.

‘Oh. Yes. Of course. I don't want to ruin anything…'

‘She won't mind,' he said, pushing himself to his feet.

Carrie thought he was wrong and that Lola would mind very much, but it was too late now to withdraw the request. Maybe Matt needed to walk away too. But poor Lola… Could any relationship be simple? Couldn't you just shag someone and forget about it? And if not, why not?