A Kiss in the Dark Page 7

  A woman stood in front of the stove, stirring the pot in front of her. Kate nipped over to the iPod dock and turned the music down, which made the woman turn around.

  So this was Kate’s mum. Her hair was really short and greying, but it suited her. She wore a long burgundy skirt and a black blouse. Ornate silver earrings dangled from her ears. The whole look was smart and elegant … until you looked down at her feet. She was wearing a huge pair of furry pink slippers – the kind Mum used to buy me when I was a kid. I figured someone who wore slippers like that couldn’t be that scary.

  Mrs McAllister smiled when she saw us – a quick, nervous sort of smile. ‘So this is the famous Alex! It’s lovely to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

  We shook hands and I tried to go for a proper man’s handshake, squeezing harder than I normally would. ‘It’s lovely to meet you too, Mrs McAllister.’

  ‘Please, call me Belinda.’ She was wincing slightly so I must have been squeezing too hard. I dropped her hand and coughed to cover the awkwardness. She looked down at my shoes and I thought she was about to say something, but Kate intervened with ‘Look, Mum! Alex brought you flowers. I told you he was a gentleman, didn’t I?’

  I held out the flowers, obstructing Mrs McAllister’s view of my not entirely spotless Vans.

  ‘Oh, you shouldn’t have! Gosh, it’s been years since a man bought me flowers! Thank you, Alex. They’re beautiful.’ She took the flowers and sniffed them, because that seems to be what you’re supposed to do when you get flowers.

  ‘Mum, don’t you think you’d better get back to stirring that risotto. Remember the Great Risotto Disaster of 2012?’

  Mrs McAllister’s eyes widened and she rushed back to the stove and started stirring frantically, flowers in one hand, spoon in the other. ‘Don’t you even think about sticking to the bottom of the pan. Don’t you dare.’ Yup, she was talking to the rice. It was easy to see where Kate got some of her more eccentric qualities from. As for the rest, I had no idea. She hardly ever talked about her dad.

  Kate took my hand and said, ‘I’m just going to show Alex my room, if that’s OK?’

  I thought Mrs McAllister might have something to say about that – there might be a ‘no boys in the bedroom’ rule – but she just waved us on our way, too busy glaring at the rice.

  Kate led the way along the hall and into her room. It was small and very, very feminine. The walls were pink and the bed was covered with more cushions than there were in my entire flat. There was a white dressing table with a white stool in front of it. There were a few cuddly pandas dotted around the place, the largest of which had pride of place in the middle of the bed.

  ‘It’s a bit babyish, isn’t it?’ Kate sat on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Not at all. It’s … nice.’ It really was. There was something very Kate about it.

  ‘Really? I was going to tidy all those things away – get rid of the pandas, at least, but I decided not to. I … I think I wanted you to see it like this. I didn’t want to pretend to be something I’m not, you know? I do enough of that at school.’ I sat down next to her and took her hand in mine. ‘I don’t have to pretend with you, Alex.’

  ‘You really don’t.’

  We kissed and I tried to focus on the kissing, pushing the guilt down as far as it would go. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. Whenever she said something like that, I was torn between wanting to punch the air in joy and wanting to drop down to my knees and confess everything. Nothing was simple anymore; every morsel of happiness was slightly tarnished. But even tarnished happiness is better than no happiness at all.

  Kate obviously sensed that I wasn’t feeling it, and she pulled away and looked at me questioningly.

  ‘Your mum seems really nice.’

  ‘Wow. You’re thinking about my mum when I’m kissing you? I’m clearly going to have to work on my technique.’

  I gave her a withering look. ‘Your technique’s just fine and you know it! I could kiss you forever and never get tired of it.’ Saying something soppy often seemed like the best way to distract her.

  ‘You do realize that you’re about as smooth as sandpaper, don’t you?’ She kissed my nose. ‘But I appreciate the sentiment.’

  ‘I appreciate your appreciating.’

  ‘I appreciate your appreciating my appreciating … Now this is just getting silly.’ She looked towards the door like she was using X-ray vision to check her mum wasn’t earwigging on the other side. ‘Right, here’s the lowdown: there’s nothing Mum likes more than good manners, so try not to talk with your mouth full or put your elbows on the table … not that you would – I’m just saying! Try not to talk about religion if you don’t want her to go off on one and quiz you about what you do and don’t believe. Um … other things to avoid … let me see … probably best to steer clear of politics. And she’s a total feminist, just so you know.’

  ‘You’re babbling again.’ I stroked the back of her hand with my thumb. ‘You told me to tell you when you babbled.’

  ‘Sorry. I know. I’m just … I was feeling fine about this – looking forward to it, even – but now that you’re here I just really, really want it to go well. I want you two to get along.’

  I pulled her into my embrace and held her tight. ‘There’s nothing to worry about, OK? Everything’s going to be fine.’ I said this as much to reassure myself as to reassure Kate.

  ‘DINNER!’ Mrs McAllister’s yell was loud enough to summon diners within a five-mile radius.

  I tried to remember my words as we headed into the kitchen. There’s nothing to worry about. Everything’s going to be fine.

  chapter fourteen

  It was fine, mostly. I negotiated my way round the risotto, telling Mrs McAllister that it was the tastiest risotto I’d ever had. This wasn’t even a lie, although technically it wasn’t the whole truth either. We drank organic elderflower cordial from wine glasses. Mrs McAllister drank the same as us – my mum would have been caning the wine, for sure.

  I left most of the talking to Kate and her mum. They had this big debate about the merits of vegetarianism, which seemed pointless because neither of them were vegetarians. When Mrs McAllister eventually asked for my opinion I came out with ‘Um … I can see both sides … but I like bacon,’ which made her roll her eyes and say ‘Men!’ with an exaggerated sigh. Kate grinned at me and I had to take a sip of cordial to mask my smile.

  Kate clearly seemed to think things were going OK. Occasionally her bare foot would brush against my leg, like a reminder that we were in this together. It was comforting. Mrs McAllister asked me a few questions. Nothing too tricky – what subjects I liked at school, what I got up to in my spare time. I answered each question honestly, which made me feel better about the whole situation. A couple of times I caught her looking at me weirdly – eyes slightly narrowed as if something wasn’t quite right but she couldn’t put her finger on it. But maybe that was just me being paranoid.

  When Mrs McAllister went rummaging into the freezer for sorbet for pudding, Kate scooted over in her seat and kissed me, slipping her tongue into my mouth. I pulled away so fast my elbow knocked my empty glass off the table; it smashed on the floor and Kate’s mum yelped in shock. Great. Those glasses are probably family heirlooms – handed down over generations, priceless.

  Mrs McAllister hurried over. ‘Oh my word! You nearly gave me a heart attack!’

  My face was red and hot. ‘I’m sorry, I …’

  Kate interrupted me. ‘I’m such a klutz! Sorry, I was just trying to help with the clearing up.’

  ‘Not to worry. I was due a trip to IKEA soon anyway. Just be careful of the broken glass.’ So it wasn’t a family heirloom after all.

  Mrs McAllister got out the dustpan and brush and started sweeping up the glass. I mouthed ‘thank you’ to Kate over the top of her head and Kate smiled sweetly. I didn’t feel bad about her taking the blame – it was her fault in the first place.

  We sat and ate our sorbet;
it made my teeth hurt. Whenever her mum wasn’t looking Kate kept licking the spoon in a very non-PG sort of way. She was just joking around rather than trying to do a genuine porn-star thing … I think.

  After dinner we went through to the sitting room. The piano was definitely the focus of the room – the sofa was angled towards it instead of facing the TV like in a normal house. There were loads of pictures of Kate – one of them was a photo of the fattest, smiliest baby I’d ever seen. I made a mental note to tease her about that later.

  Kate sat next to me on the sofa. We were holding hands even though I really didn’t feel comfortable doing that in front of her mum. We’d been chatting for maybe two minutes when Mrs McAllister said, ‘Kate, why don’t you play something for us?’

  I could feel Kate tense up immediately; her hand gripped mine even tighter. ‘Oh Alex isn’t really into classical music, Mum.’

  I resented the implication that I was some kind of heathen. ‘That’s not true. I’d love to hear you play.’ The look on Mrs McAllister’s face told me that I’d earned a gold star. The look on Kate’s face told me I’d earned a black mark. So they pretty much cancelled each other out.

  ‘I don’t really feel like it. Alex, why don’t you tell Mum about that tour we did? She reckons she’d be too scared but I told her it’d be fine, wouldn’t it?’ Kate looked at me intently. There was definitely something weird going on.

  ‘Yes, yes, you can tell me all about that in a minute. Why don’t you play the Chopin you’ve been working on? I really do think you’ve mastered it now.’

  ‘I said I didn’t want to play.’

  ‘It’s fine, Mrs McAllister. Really. Kate’s right – I don’t know the first thing about classical music … but yeah, you should definitely do the tour of Mary King’s Close – it’s really interesting and–’

  ‘Why are you being so stubborn about this, Katherine?’ All the softness had disappeared from Mrs McAllister’s voice.

  Kate let go of my hand. ‘I’m not being stubborn! I just don’t feel like playing, that’s all. I’m not some performing seal, you know!’

  ‘You’re going to need to get over this phobia of yours if you’re going to be a professional pianist. It’s really getting beyond a joke now, don’t you think?’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to be a bloody pianist?! You NEVER listen to me! I can’t believe you’re doing this in front of Alex – you ruin everything!’ She stood up and stormed out of the room. There was no door slamming, at least.

  My first instinct was to go after her, but I didn’t know if that would be rude or disrespectful to Mrs McAllister. I didn’t know the rules.

  Kate’s mum was sipping her coffee as if nothing had happened. Clearly this was a regular occurrence in the McAllister household.

  ‘Um … I should go and see if she’s …’ It felt like I needed her permission to leave the room.

  ‘She loves the piano, you know. She wants to play professionally more than anything. And she could do it – her teacher said she’s got real potential. She just lacks … focus. That’s what makes the difference. I know it’s hard for a girl her age – I really do understand that. But it’s so important to think about the future and not get distracted.’

  Mrs McAllister’s eyes bored holes into my brain when she said ‘distracted’. There was no doubt what she was getting at, I just wondered whether she was going to come right out and say it. Was she actually about to launch into the whole stay-away-from-my-daughter thing? I stayed quiet, resisting the urge to apologize or reassure her or say whatever it was that she wanted me to say.

  ‘You seem like an intelligent boy, Alex.’ I shrugged – she was half right. ‘I’m sure you care about what’s best for Kate.’

  I nodded. Of course I cared; I just wasn’t sure exactly what was best for her. I didn’t want to think about it too much in case it turned out that what was best for Kate didn’t include me. I thought I made her happy – Kate said I made her happy. But what if her mum was right? What if spending time with me was jeopardizing her future? What if … I shook myself. It wasn’t going to work. If Mrs McAllister wanted me to stay away from Kate she was going to have to say so, or lock Kate in her room or something. And for some reason I reckoned she wouldn’t do either of those things.

  I stood and hitched up my jeans. ‘Thank you for a lovely dinner, Mrs McAllister. I’m sure my mum would love the recipe for that risotto … I’m just going to check on Kate and then I’d better be getting home. Mum really doesn’t like me staying out late on a school night.’ I smiled my most genuine parent-pleasing smile and left the room before she had a chance to say anything else.

  *

  Kate was lying face down on the bed, crying. I sat on the edge of the bed and put my hand on the small of her back. ‘Maybe I should have told your mum I think a woman’s place is in the home … Might have taken some of the heat off you, eh?’

  ‘Alex, would you mind leaving?’ Her voice was thick with tears and muffled by the pillow. ‘I don’t want you to see me like this.’

  ‘Hey, it’s OK. It’s nothing to stress about. We all argue with our parents.’

  ‘I can’t believe she did that in front of you. I’m sorry.’

  ‘No sorries, OK?’

  ‘She just … I hate her sometimes. I really do.’ She turned her head to look at me; her face was blotchy and her eyes were red. ‘How bad do I look?’

  ‘Blotchy and red?’ I grinned and Kate swatted at me, but there was a tiny smile on her face at least.

  ‘Oh God, you probably hate me, don’t you?’

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes. ‘I could never hate you, Kate. Never. Listen, I’d better be heading home, but I don’t want you to worry about anything. I mean it. I think you should talk to your mum, explain how you feel. I’m sure she’ll understand.’ I had no idea what I was talking about, but the words sounded sensible enough.

  ‘You don’t know what it’s like. I’m really sorry I put you through this – no wonder you were so freaked out at the thought of meeting her! It’s better when it’s just the two of us, isn’t it? Everyone else can just go and …’

  ‘Jump off a bridge?’

  ‘Yes. The whole lot of them. And we’ll have the whole city to ourselves and do what we like, when we like, and sit on the front seat on the top of the bus every single time, and we’ll just have this perfect life.’ Kate was properly smiling now.

  ‘But who’s gonna drive the bus if everyone’s jumped off a bridge?’

  Kate’s brow wrinkled in thought. ‘You! You can drive the bus and it won’t matter if you’re not very good at it because there won’t be anyone else on the road. I’ll sit upstairs and shout where I want to go. You can be my chauffeur.’

  We talked for a few more minutes, Kate getting more and more into the idea of everyone else disappearing off the face of the planet. I was quite taken by the idea too. If no one else existed, I’d be able to tell Kate my secret. She wouldn’t have to worry about what anyone else thought or said. It would just be the two us, together. Like we were meant to be.

  chapter fifteen

  From then on we agreed to keep our parents out of it. It was Kate’s idea, and she had no idea how relieved I was that I didn’t need to come up with reasons why she couldn’t come to my house. One less thing to worry about.

  We met up at least a couple of evenings a week and usually spent either Saturday or Sunday together. As far as Mum was concerned I was still hanging out with Jonni and Fitz. Kate’s mum stayed off her back as long as Kate kept up with her piano practice, which meant that she was practising harder than ever to make sure she was allowed to see me. There were a couple of awkward moments, like when Kate didn’t understand why we could never meet each other straight after school. She said she wanted to spend every possible minute with me but I told her I had to train. The truth was I was skipping training sessions whenever they got in the way of me seeing Kate, but I still needed the time to go home a
nd get ready.

  Things were good. We got into a little routine, had our favourite places to go. Kate thought it was brilliant that I was always happy to get the bus to see her rather than for her to come to me. Apparently I was the best boyfriend ever. She said so when we were walking along the promenade one Sunday afternoon. That was the first time either of us had put a name to what this was. Kate blushed fiercely as soon as the words were out. ‘I didn’t mean to say that … Can we just pretend it never happened? I wouldn’t want to presume that–’ I put my finger up to her lips to silence her. ‘How about we don’t pretend it never happened? How about I’m completely fine with you presuming?’ My finger on her lips stopped her from asking ‘Really?’ but I beat her to it and said ‘Really’. It was one of those perfect moments that seem so far removed from everyday life.

  It was like a dream, those few weeks. A crazy, exciting, amazing dream. But it differed from most of my dreams in one fundamental way: I knew I’d have to wake up eventually. And as time went on, that ‘eventually’ was getting closer and closer to becoming ‘soon’. I wasn’t entirely stupid – I knew, deep down, that things couldn’t carry on like this. The guilt got worse every single day.

  I felt like I was running out of time and I was desperate to make the most of it – to wring out every last drop of happiness before my world imploded. Kate wasn’t helping – with the physical side of things at least. She’d made it abundantly clear that she wanted to go further than kissing. A lot further. Lucky for me we did most of our kissing in public places.

  It surprised me that she was so keen to take things further. I guess I’d thought she was all sweet and innocent. But I think the fact that she was sweet and innocent was part of the problem. Kate didn’t want to be like that anymore. She was desperate to break away from that image of herself in any way she could. And sex was another way for her to do that. At least that’s how I read the situation. Or maybe she just wanted to be closer to me.