Cold Comfort (5 page)

Every summer for years I had prayed he
might return, only to be disappointed. I had given up a long time ago believing
I would ever see him again. Now here he was. His face had matured, his body
changed and grown into that of a man’s, but his eyes were still the same as he
looked down at me. His warm chocolate gaze enveloped me as it had all those
years ago. “Happy birthday,” he said. I smiled that he had remembered.

“You know her, Hardy?” Clarissa said indignantly,
as if such a concept were shocking.

“How do you know Hardy Somerville?” Charles
Taylor asked at the same time as he placed an arm around my shoulders. Hardy
frowned at the sight, as did Emily and Clarissa. The whole situation had
started to feel very uncomfortable. I looked at my watch, shocked to see it was
already nearly half one in the morning.

“It’s late. We ought to be going.” I said,
looking at Emily in the hopes she’d agree.

“It’s not that late, and I’m enjoying
myself,” she grumbled. “Let’s stay a bit longer.” The guy whose lap she was on groped
about under her dress. I was shocked to see she’d let him do that to her in
public.

“Your friend’s right,” Clarissa told Emily firmly.
“I think it’s well past time you both left, thank you very much.” We were
dismissed. Her word was law; it was her party after all. As I made to leave, Charles
stood with me. “Charles, what are you doing?” Clarissa demanded.

“You said the party was over,” he answered
smoothly. “Or at least, the guitar music and singing is over, which is the only
good thing about this party, so I’m leaving too. Come on, Delilah.” He grabbed
a hold of my hand at the same time as Hardy stepped forward.

“Let go of her, Taylor,” Hardy said in no
uncertain terms.

“Have you got some sort of prior claim,
Somerville? I thought you were seeing the delightful Clarissa here.”

“I said let her go, Taylor,” Hardy repeated,
his voice cold and hard.

“Hardy,” Clarissa whined beside him, “what
does she matter to us? Let him go and fuck the little tart. It’s all girls like
her are good for anyway.”

At that I grabbed my guitar case and put
the precious item away before striding back up the lawn, ignoring all the
people that called after me. I hated the way Clarissa had spoken about me. Even
more, I hated the thought of Hardy being with her, letting her put her hands on
him.
How could he like a girl like her?
I wondered as I strode around
the side of the house, determined not to let any of them hurt me with their
words any further. I walked for nearly five minutes until I finally found a
route through the many flower beds, out onto the gravelled path at the front of
the house.

“Delilah,” Hardy called. I was surprised he
had reached the driveway before me but figured he had taken a more direct route
through the house.

“Delilah,” Charles called from behind me. Emily
was just behind him, staggering along in her stupid heels. I wheeled between
the pair of them, uncertain now we were all here what I was going to do or how
I was going to get home.

“I want to go home,” I said to Emily. She
shrugged and got out her phone to call a taxi.

“I’ll take you both,” Charles informed her.
Emily beamed at the prospect.

“No you bloody won’t,” Hardy said in a low
voice, his face hard as he squared up to Charles.

“Cool it, Hardy. I’ll drive them home. Nothing
more. I know she’s only just sixteen. Back off and calm down before you make
the whole situation a hundred times worse.”

“If you touch her,” Hardy threatened, his
eyes simmering.

“Go back and appease Clarissa before she
declares all-out bitch warfare on the lovely Delilah here. It’s the last thing
the girl needs or deserves. I’ll get the girls out of here,” he promised at the
same time as Clarissa arrived on the driveway, forcing Hardy’s hand.

Reluctantly Hardy moved towards her, to
head her off from a further confrontation. Simultaneously Charles herded Emily
and me towards an expensive-looking Audi TT. I cast a last look at Hardy before
I allowed Charles to lead me away. “Get in the back,” Charles said to Emily,
“there’s a dear. Delilah’s legs are longer than yours.” Emily scowled as she
clambered in. The car was clearly not made to have passengers in the back,
judging by the way Emily had to contort her small frame to fit in. I was in a
much comfier situation when I climbed into the passenger seat beside Charles,
my guitar case wedged between my knees.

Charles immediately picked back up from his
previous line of questioning. “So how do you know Somerville, Delilah?”

“My mother works for his father. I live on
his estate. We played together as kids.”

“I’ll bet you did,” Emily sniggered from
behind us.

“I was eight, Emily. We built the treehouse
together. That’s all. I haven’t seen him in eight years.” Charles nodded, looking
pleased.

“Where am I going?” he asked Emily through
the rearview mirror. She gave directions, and the remainder of the short
journey passed in silence, all of us caught up in our own thoughts.

My head was still spinning. I was
recovering from the realisation that Hardy had been close all this time. At St
Andrew’s. He’d just never bothered to come back to see me. And why should he
have? To see a stupid little girl who’d thought him to be her friend. That
their summer had meant something. I felt embarrassed that I’d allowed myself to
live off those happy memories for so long, believing them to have signified
something deeper than a means to occupy a few weeks.

When we finally pulled up a few houses away
from Emily’s I was relieved to get out of the car. I wanted to creep away on my
own and mourn the destruction of my happiest childhood memories. I hadn’t had
many to hang on to – they were some of my most precious. “Hold up,” Charles
called to me quietly as Emily clambered slowly out the back seat. I halted and
turned to look at him as he walked towards me. “I’m having a small gathering next
weekend. The weather’s meant to stay hot, so I thought we’d have a pool party. People
will be staying over. I’d like it if you came. Guitar most welcome,” he said
with a smile. “And Emily,” he added as an afterthought. I started to refuse
him, but Emily was in there straightaway.

“We’d be delighted,” she assured him. “Text
me the details,” she said, as she reached into his pocket and pulled out his
phone. He dutifully unlocked it, never taking his eyes off me, and she entered
her phone number, quickly calling herself so she had his too. Then she pulled
me towards the house, beyond excited at having got Charles Taylor’s number in
her phone.

I could feel Charles’ eyes on me until we
walked inside the silent building. We got back to her room, quickly changed and
got into bed. All the while Emily never ceased her chattering about the night
we’d had until I finally pretended to be asleep. Once I was certain her
breathing had slowed and she had at last fallen into unconsciousness, I lay
there in the darkness and cried.

Emily was even more insufferable than usual
the entire week. She’d barely left me alone for a minute, mainly because I
think she was afraid I might change my mind about going to Charles’. It meant
she was at my house from just after breakfast every morning to discuss
strategies for the forthcoming party. Fortunately that seemed only to involve
her talking and me listening – and agreeing to everything she suggested.
She was still convinced she was in with a chance with Charles, despite what she’d
referred to as his ‘slight infatuation’ with my voice. In reality I didn’t
think she really cared which guy she scored with, as long as she snagged a rich
boyfriend of some sort.

When I dared to suggest I didn’t want to go
to the party, she nearly took my head off with an irate blast of profanities. Apparently
I was about to ‘ruin her life’. The day Charles texted her with the address,
and said that people would be arriving any time from ten in the morning, she had
talked about nothing else for the rest of the day. The first dilemma was strategizing
how she should respond. After an hour of agonising she finally settled on a
‘lovely,
see you then x’
. Then I had to endure hours of speculation about what his
lack of a follow-up message meant.
Really, what more was there to say?
I
thought. I made the mistake of saying it out loud which only meant I’d then had
to listen to her harp on about it for another couple of hours as she’d tried to
explain it to me.

I couldn’t help thinking she also had an
ulterior motive for being round at mine so much. I hadn’t missed the way her
eyes had raked over Hardy at the party. I guessed a part of her was hoping he
might appear on the doorstep. Finally, by lunch time on Thursday I’d had more
than I could stand and sent her home, telling her there were things I had to do
and that I’d see her on Saturday morning. We had planned to be at Charles’ for lunchtime –
apparently it wasn’t ‘cool’ to be early. We, or at least Emily, had spun a
story about a school friend having a weekend party. There was no mention of
boys, and she’d assured my mother that the girl’s parents would be on the
premises. Mama, having never had any reason not to trust me, happily gave us
her blessing and even told us it sounded like fun. I churned with guilt at the
lies we’d told her.

I’d been collapsed in an armchair for about
fifteen minutes after Emily had finally left when I heard a quiet knock at the
door. I shifted myself reluctantly towards it, wondering what the hell she had
left behind, or forgotten to tell me, only to find Hardy on the doorstep.

He laughed at my obvious surprise. “I
thought she’d never leave,” he admitted, and I wondered how he knew she had
been here at all. “Can I come in?” he asked, looking over his shoulder. “I’d
rather not have my father see me here.” I stepped aside and let him in, acutely
aware of the way he seemed to fill the room now compared with the last time he’d
been here.

We stood awkwardly in the small lounge and stared
at each other. I feasted my eyes on all the small details I’d missed at the
party the other night. I hadn’t had a chance to take in just how much he’d
changed physically when I’d seen him in the dark. He’d certainly grown up. He
was tall, easily over six foot and broad at the shoulder, but not too broad, tapering
to narrow hips. The t-shirt and jeans he had on clung to him and showed off his
fit, defined physique. I felt my mouth go dry in response to his very male form.
He must be eighteen now… there was little evidence of the boy I had once called
my friend, except for the occasional flash of emotion in his eyes. “You’re all
grown up,” he said, echoing exactly what I’d been thinking. “God, look at you. You’re
so fucking beautiful,” he groaned. “I always thought you would be, but Jesus. I
mean, you’re….” He seemed momentarily lost for words. “When I saw you at
Clarissa’s the other night, heard you singing… All those people transfixed by
you. I knew it had to be you. I would have known that voice anywhere. It had
the same effect on me when I was a kid.”

“I’m not sure your girlfriend was so keen.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said
dismissively. “Just a hook-up. Casual, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” I replied honestly.

“No, I don’t suppose you do. I’m glad about
that,” he admitted. His voice was gruff when he said it. He took a step towards
me.

“Why are you here, Hardy?”

“I had to see you.”

“Why? After all these years. Were you
really at St Andrew’s all that time?” I couldn’t hold back the note of hurt in
my voice. He flushed with embarrassment.

“I wanted to see you again. I missed you so
damned much after that summer. Especially that first term at school. I nearly
came back the next summer… I just couldn’t face seeing
him
,” he said,
glancing in the direction of the big house. “I can’t stand him.”

“I understand.” I did. He was horrible. The
few occasions I’d come into contact with him over the years he’d made my skin
crawl. I kept away, so I couldn’t blame Hardy for wanting to keep well clear of
the man when he would have been forced to live under the same roof as him. I
wanted that for him too. “So you’re at St Andrew’s,” I said again, calmer this
time. “I never thought to ask before.”

“I wasn’t then. I was being tutored to pass
the entrance exam. I only started after that summer. Mostly I’ve spent the
holidays with my mum in California, but sometimes I’ve stayed with friends. Like
Charles.”

“You’re staying with Charles?” I was
surprised. They hadn’t seemed all that close when I’d seen them together. More
like at each other’s throats.

“You need to keep well clear of him.”

“Why? He seemed okay. He was nice, nicer
than anyone else at that party, which isn’t saying much, I know. Anyway, you
must like him if you’re staying with him.”

Hardy stepped closer again. “He’s no good
for you. Please don’t come to his gathering this weekend, just stay away. I
know he invited you, and he’s talked about nothing else all week. I don’t want
him near you… can’t stand the thought of him touching you. You’re young. You
don’t know what men like him are like yet... I hope you never do. You’re too
good for him.”

“I may be young, but I’m not stupid. I
think I have a fair idea what men like him are after.” I was irritated by him
telling me what to do. As if he had any right to march back into my life and
start dictating my choices to me. “What on earth gives you the right to come in
and tell me who I should or shouldn’t spend time with? I haven’t even seen you
for eight years. You don’t know anything about me.”

He took another step forward, bringing him
to within an inch of where I was standing, and my words dried up. His physical
presence overwhelmed me.

“I know, you’re right, but I feel like I do
know you. I feel like there’s a connection… even after all this time.” He
trailed off. “I don’t know,” he said as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I
know it sounds crazy. Jesus, you make me feel crazy. I hate my best friend at
the moment for even looking at you that way. God help any other man who goes
near you.”

“You are crazy. You know nothing about me,”
I repeated.

“Please, don’t go to Charles’.”

“I have to. Emily would never forgive me if
I didn’t.”

He looked pained by my words. “Promise me,
then. Promise me you won’t let him touch you, don’t get cornered alone with him.
Promise me you won’t let anyone touch you. Please,” he begged. He was so close
to me now I could feel the fine hairs on my arms standing to attention. I
thought for a brief moment as I watched him close his eyes that he was going to
kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me. Instead he took a deep controlling breath and
stepped away.

The stubborn part of me refused to bend to
his will, as he tried to sway me with his intense chocolatey gaze. I held my
tongue and jutted my chin out defiantly, daring him to press me again. I had no
intention of letting anyone near me at the party, but he didn’t need to know
that. He sighed, saying nothing before finally nodding once more and leaving. It
felt like a small victory, but instead of feeling pleased I just felt even more
confused.

*

By the time Saturday arrived, the visit
from Hardy felt like it must have been a dream. Emily was beside herself with
excitement, having spent the time since she’d turned up on my doorstep at eight
in the morning trying on every bikini she possessed. I didn’t know how it was
possible to own so many in a country that had about three weeks of the year (if
we had a good summer) actually warm enough to wear one.

She’d been trying to determine which outfit
showed her assets off to best effect. It seemed that less was more where she
was concerned, despite my voiced concern that she should leave something to the
imagination.

“Don’t be such a prude,” she scolded me. “You’ll
never get a boy interested in you if you dress like you normally do.” She
nodded meaningfully at the dress I was wearing. It was a long white maxi dress
that I loved. I’d twinned it with some flip-flops. I didn’t care what she
thought of it. In fact, given what she was wearing – a dress so short I
could see her crotch every time she bent over – I took it as a compliment.

I had only one bikini, a red halterneck,
but I wasn’t sure I’d be brave enough to put it on in front of a bunch of
strangers. I’d stuffed it into my weekend bag, along with my sleep shorts and
vest top, a dress for the evening and some clean clothes for the next day. “God,
you piss me off,” Emily told me, as she watched me sweep my hair up into a high
ponytail. “You don’t even have to try and you look stunning.”

“You’re prettier than me,” I reassured her.

She looked at me intently. “You really
think that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I replied, bemused. She shrugged
but said nothing. She’d been slightly off with me since the bonfire, warning me
not to get in her way if there were any guys she liked. I had promised her
repeatedly I wouldn’t.

“Girls, everything okay? Are you ready to
go?” Mama’s voice drifted up from downstairs.

“Yes Ma,” I replied, grabbing my bag and
heading for the stairs.

“Oh, baby, you look lovely,” she told me
with a smile when she saw me. I smiled back as I took the last few steps down
and hugged her. I felt terrible I was lying to her about where I was going this
weekend.

“Do you need some money for the card?” she
asked. I blinked, not understanding what she meant until Emily chipped in.

“No, Mrs Thomas, we’ve all clubbed in
together to get Amanda something.” Guilt filled me again. She’d been offering
me money for the birthday card for the girl whose birthday party we were
supposedly attending. “We only need money for a taxi there and back is all,”
Emily continued. She was a natural with the lying.

“Oh, I could give you a lift if we’re
quick,” Mama said, looking at her watch.

“No need, Mrs T. It’s a good few miles
away. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with Mr Somerville. We’re happy to
get a taxi.”

“Well if you’re sure?” Mama sounded
relieved.

“We’re sure, Mama.” She kissed me again on
the cheek.

“Text me and let me know you’re okay
tonight, won’t you?” she asked.

“Of course,” I assured her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Look after each other,” she said, a little
sterner this time. “No alcohol, please.”

“Mama, I don’t even like it.” Emily just
shrugged and then turned so her back was to us as she called the taxi firm on
her mobile.

“I’m not stupid, I know there’ll be boys
there,” Mama whispered to me as Emily talked to someone at the taxi company. I flushed
with guilt.

“Mama, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.”

“Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. You’re growing
up. It’s normal. Just be sensible. Don’t do anything you don’t feel comfortable
with. Alcohol removes your judgement. You’re a good girl – I couldn’t be
any prouder of you than I already am. You’ve never given me a day of worry. Go
and have some fun and don’t worry about me. I’m here if you need me, though, no
matter the trouble. You can call me… anytime. Okay?”

“Okay, Mama, thank you. I never wanted to
lie to you.”

“You didn’t. Emily did,” she said, looking
over at my friend and frowning. “Have fun, sweetie, and make sure Emily doesn’t
have too much.”

I laughed. “I will,” I promised her.

*

As we pulled up in front of Charles’ house,
Emily was nearly popping with excitement. She had texted him to let him know we
were on our way, but he’d not replied. The house was yet another enormous
mansion, and I wondered what we’d let ourselves in for –
a repeat of
Clarissa’s?
The driveway, like last time, was filled with expensive cars. I
hadn’t been certain who else, other than Charles and Hardy, would be here; Charles
had suggested it would be a small gathering. It seemed, however, his idea of a
small gathering was a little different than my own. I hugged my trusty guitar
to my chest, with my weekend bag over my shoulder, and walked to the front
door. It opened before I’d even reached for the bell.

“You’re here.” Charles grinned at me. “Come
in, come in, let me take those,” he said, reaching for my guitar and bag.