Gone (13 page)

“I’m coming now.” I shout as I search desperately for where I threw my keys hours before.

I don
’t even stop to double lock the door, I run straight down the stairs and head for the beach where Faye has told me Bex is.

As soon as I get to the top of the beach I see Faye waving at me. I ditch the flip flops and sprint over to my rock. I can see a shape on the floor but I don’t recognise what it is until I get closer and see that Bex is passed out on the damp sand.  The sea is about stone’s throw away, a child’s stone throw.

Jesus Christ.

“How did you find her?” I try and get Bex’s head up on my lap, but she is entirely out cold not even registering that she is being moved.

“Andrew and I were going for a walk,” she says. I glance up and even in the shadowy light I can see her cheeks flush slightly.

“Thank god. Did you see anything?” I cast my eyes about and notice an empty bottle of vodka.

A little piece of the mysterious jigsaw that is Bex clicks into place. She acts out, but not because she is trying to get attention. If she wanted attention there would have been an empty packet of pills and she would have been further away from the sea.

A single bottle of vodka just tells me that Bex, for whatever reason is trying to forget something. She just can’t handle her vodka.

“Bex, wake up.” She does not respond to my voice at all.

I direct my attention to Faye. “I’m going to go and get Daisy. Can you sit with her until I get back?”

Faye bends to her knees on the cold sand. “Sure, Josh.”

“
I don’t want to ruin your date.”

“Shut your face.”

I don’t stop. I sprint back over the sand and dash up the lane to Aunt May’s to get Daisy who cranks to life with a thundering roar.

What was Bex thinking?

It’s all I can think as I negotiate the dark lanes back to the beach.

What was she thinking?

I get back to the beach and find Faye with Bex’s head resting in her lap. “She threw up.”

“Throwing up is good, we won’t have to get her stomach pumped. I don’t think her family should hear about this.”

“Get her to drink some sea water, remember when. . .” Faye stops talking. She doesn’t have to say anything else. I all too clearly recall the memory she is thinking of. It’s just one of our many shared memories.

“I remember.” I tell her, my eyes meeting hers in the moonlight. Then I lock the memory away, back in my box of things to never be discussed.

I turn my attention back towards Bex and away from the past. “Bex baby.”
Baby? Really?
“It’s time to wake up, Bex. We’ve got to get you home.”

She groans something and then throws up again, all down my shirt. Clear liquid soaks through to my skin, but I ignore the accompanying chill and slide my hands and arms under her neck and knees, lifting her easily. For a girl so tall she is alarmingly light.

I sink my way back over the sand to Daisy and open the back door somehow managing to wrestle Bex onto the back seat over a mass of rubbish lining the floor.  I switch on the middle light which flickers to life with resentment. Bex has some more colour now. Breathing a huge sigh of relief I just grab her into my arms. Shit.  The girl who is going, was nearly gone without me getting the chance to say good bye.

I wrap my arms around her tight, and so wish I could take back those shitty words I said to her today “Enjoy your holiday, Rebecca.”  Who the fuck was I kidding apart from myself. I should have followed her, chased after her. Anything.

I also wish I could take back the stupid arsehole comment I said to her the first time in shop. She must have thought I was a complete wanker. I don’t even know why she has been spending time with me. Her words outside the tea shop come back at me “I shouldn’t have trusted you,” and I realise her spending time with me is as unique to her as it is to me.
Dickhead.

As I breathe in the scent of sea water lingering on her skin a simple, enlightening fact hits me. I don’t want the girl made of sun to go. Not now. Not now she nearly washed away in the sea. I want her to stay on land right by my side.

“I’m gonna go, if you have this?” Faye’s voice is tight enough for me to glance up at her, wrenching my attention away from Bex. Faye’s eyes are shining in the dim light.

“You okay?”

“Yeah I am, and it looks like you finally are too.” She offers me a small smile and then steps away before I get a chance to ask her what she means. It doesn’t play on my mind long because I instantly turn my attention back to Bex who is making a strange gurgling sound.

“Bex, you need to open your eyes.”

She does not answer but waves her hand at me, which in itself is answer enough in the circumstances. Then she is sick again. She gets poor Daisy’s floor this time not me. I rub her back as she retches and coughs.

Leaning forward I place my lips against her hair. “What the fuck were you thinking?” I feel her move a little so I shift back to give her some space. She glares at me through her matted red hair.

“You said,” she slurs but then stops, glaring at me instead.

“I said.” I can’t help but smile. She looks so bloody adorable sitting there all soaked with wet sand, matted and covered in sick.

“I said.” She starts again but does not finish.

I squeeze myself onto the seat next to her and slide my arms around her tight
, tucking her into my side. “Ignore me. Sometimes I am a prick.”

She starts to laugh, well at least I think she is laughing but when my shoulder starts to feel damp I realise she is crying with her arms clung around my neck.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs so low I can barely hear her.

This is so not the Bex I thought I knew. I laugh when my thought registers with me. I’ve known her three days. Three bloody days and she has spun my entire world on its head. It’s still spinning to such an extent that I think I would rather ask her to stay than to be by myself like I was before. My arms tighten another notch.

“Why are you crying?”

She snivels into my neck before responding. “My parents are going to kill me.”

I chuckle and push her back to I can see her wide amber eyes staring at me.

“
Nah, come on, let’s get you sorted. I can’t have you grounded. I’ve got plans for the next few days.”

Bex continues to stare at me. “I’m sorry,” she says when she has been watching my face for a few moments. She reaches one hand out and slides one of my dreads behind my shoulder.

“I’m sorry too.” I link my fingers through hers. “Ready to face the music?”

“No.”

“Come on, we are making a stop off first.”

Bex does not argue any further she gets up from the back seat clutching her head as she does and clambers over to the front seat resting her head against the window. I climb over as well and then lean against her as I buckle her in. I go to tell her that I am going to take us to my studio, but she has gone straight back to sleep again.

Two minutes later I pull Daisy straight onto the pavement outside the shop and jump down to let Bex out. She still has her eyes closed so I shift my arms about her again to lift her out of the car.

“I can walk.”

“I can carry you.”

“I should walk.”

Reluctantly I release my grip on her and she places her feet on the floor. I expect her to move away from me but she surprises me by sliding her hand into mine. I clasp hers tightly in response tying us together with our entwined fingers.

“Thank you, Joshua,” she says. Her voice is low and the way she says my name makes it sound like she is singing a song.

“We haven’t got you home yet, one thing at a time.”

Opening the front door I lead her up the flight of stairs to the studio. Something happens to the atmosphere on the climb and by the time we are at the top the air feels much heavier, like we have climbed a mountain instead of twenty steps.

“Through here.” I motion my way through the door and flip on the light. Swathes of brightness land on us, and I instantly regret the bright bulbs I put in for my late night painting sessions.

Bex has her eyes fixed on the easel in the middle of the room off the small hallway. I hear a small gasp escape her lips as she walks towards it.

Watching I wait for her to say something. She stares at my first work in half a year, and I feel a nervousness I’ve never encountered with my work before. Normally I just paint and expect people to like it, to gush over it, to want it. I don’t think she is going to do any of those things. She says nothing. And then a little bit more nothing.

Finally after what feels like an age she turns to me and the damp track marks of tears are painfully obvious on her face.

“Is that how you see me?” she says.”

I look between the real her, and the picture I have drawn of her on the beach in her bikini the first time I ever saw her. The goddess I created today when I made her half-light, half dark, and a continuous contrast.

“Yeah it is.”

“I wish I could see that too.” Her voice breaks on the final word and the note makes my stomach tighten. I push it away and reach my hand for hers.

“Come, let’s get you showered.”

I lead her to the small shower room Aunt May put in when she got fed up with me stinking out the place. A five day straight paintathon will do that to a guy.

I turn the dial of the shower and reach my hand under the water making sure the hot still works and then step back.

“Don’
t leave me,” she says.

“I’ll wait on the other side of the door,” I offer. Best try to make a stab at gentlemanly behaviour.

“Just stay here, okay.”

Something about the way she says it roots me to the spot and I don’t move a muscle as she peels off her damp shorts, top and underwear.

Shit.

My throat is ridiculously tight as I watch her get into the shower and stand under the water with her eyes closed. She is so beautiful. I am not even going to offend her by describing her as hot, because that just would not be adequate. Beautiful. It’s the only word to use.

“Wanna get in?” She still has her eyes closed.

“No. You’
re still sandy.”

“You could help me wash it off.”

I reach one hand into the shower and slide it up her arm, brushing at some of the sand. For a girl who was passed out an hour ago she moves surprisingly fast. Her hand snakes out grabbing mine and before I can form any level of physical resistance she pulls me into the shower with my clothes on, fitting her naked body against mine.

She does not make any moves at all. She just pulls me in tight and wraps her arms around my waist as the water slides over the both of us.

“Thank you for finding me.”

I say the words before I can stop myself, “I will always find you” But what I mean is that I will always want to find her. Even after she is gone.

NINE DAYS TO GO

Bridge Cottage

St Agnes

Cornwall

18th August 2013

Dear E,

She was back. London Bex. The one you got so cross with that night. I’ve been winning my fight against her, mostly, but yesterday I did something so crazy stupid.

You will hate me when you know, but I can’t not tell you. It was so silly but I saw Josh-u-a sitting with another girl in a café and I just flipped. I know I had no right but at the same time I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t control it. I don’t think I will ever win my fight against her. London Bex.

I drank a bottle of vodka and passed out next to the sea. I can hear you shouting at me. I can only think what it would have done to mum and dad if I’d been swept away in the sea. What would have happened to Emily? Would they have been relieved that the problem that is Bex had finally been taken care of?

Josh-u-a found me, took me home, cleaned me up, made me safe.

I don’t know why. I don’t deserve to be rescued by anyone.

He stood with me for the longest time wearing all his clothes under a steaming hot shower and his arms were so tight around me it felt like he may always be able to rescue me no matter what happens.

Crazy right?

Miss you as always

B.

xx

Rebecca

Breakfast

The sun is streaming through the windows and it burns into my one open eyeball like a red hot poker.
Bloody hell.

Then I remember the bottle of vodka, the throwing up, the shower and falling asleep in Joshua’s arms.

“You’re awake.” I feel the pressure of lips against the top of my head and I tighten my arms around his bare chest.

“I wish I wasn’t.” There is a second of hesitation while he tries to work out what I mean. That came out so wrong. “I mean my head hurts, quite badly.” He chuckles beneath me and kisses my hair again. In response I do something I have never done before. I snuggle. That’s right I snuggle against him, allowing my lips to gently brush against his skin with my movement.