“Pheebs wouldn’t do that, though.” He’s starting to frown.
“But she’s trying,” I plead with him, hoping he’ll see that I’m telling the truth: that, “I’m really Lisi Reynolds. Year 10 at Fairmere. I’m in Miss Mint’s class.”
Silently, he watches her lift the glass gateaux covers and expertly wipe the stands. Then we’re interrupted by Martha’s loud cough.
“We’re closed now,” she barks, ‘cos she’s always direct. Her gappy mouth smiles, which has the effect of scaring off customers if it needs to.
We start to move out but then I need the loo. Or toilet, as I used to say in another life last week. She stops me as I knew she would, lurking in the corridor, winding and stretching a rubber band from the coffee bag tight round her fingers; dull gold like a wedding ring. She’s taken it out of her hair, which is gleaming bright; shiny with sparkles which seems a bit OTT for dishing out gallons of coffee and tea. To me.
“What did you say?” She’s mother-cat fierce.
“I told him.”
The rubber band
Pings.
“You did what? ”
“Unlike you,” I say, “I’m not sure I want to have sex with your other half. ‘Part from the fact it’s illegal .”
She pulls up, all regal, and if people saw they’d think, ‘weird, why’s that blonde, teenage waitress’ fist just appeared?” ‘Cos Miss Mint’s got hers in my face and is baring my white teeth and snarling and growling and doing all this, which then fades. ‘Cos the door’s just pushed open by Taff. He says,
“Ladies,” he’s thrown. “Pheebs,” I’ve got all the stuff, just need a pee too. Have you been?”
And we’re there in this cramped-up, odd space and I smile and say, “not yet, I’ll go. Can you wait here?” But I don’t want to leave them alone. There’s a small, high up window just over his head and it’s cloudy outside. Miss Mint says. “I hope you enjoyed your beer, sir.”
He looks at her hard, then at me, turns away, then turns back. Clouds scud past his eyes. He says,
“Pheebs?”
I’m not sure who he’s talking to. But we both say,
“Yes.”
And I see some blue sky. And we start to confess.
* * *
We go back, through the streets, holding hands, but quite limp.
“So it’s true.”
It’s like rowers who’ve raced to the end. Pulled and pulled, heaved and screamed, hoped and lost. He’s still taking stock. And I’m not sure he’s ready to lose.
My ears tingle from cold and I’m full and I’m queasy. So I think it might help if we just take it easy. I rest on the wall of the railway bridge that leads to the posh bit of town. And his tweedy sleeves join me, ‘cos they’re a bit tired-looking too.
“She lives over there,” I nod back to mine; to my mum’s.
“You mean you do? As Lisi?”
I nod.
“This is strange,” and he leans down and looks at the rusty rail tracks underneath, that split in the middle and lead off in separate directions, just below our feet. “How’d it happen? Who knows? Will it last? How’s it feel?”
And he rattles these questions in time to the rails, which are waking and shaking and throwing off snails as a train races up from behind us. I mouth, ‘wait a minute,’ and though his tweed’s knackered, his proud, puffy gilet’s like some padded duvet. And I snuggle in. It’s ok.
And he whispers. He takes me and comforts me; holds me, protects me and lets me go free as the train gathers speed and then blasts
Past, too fast,
And it’s yellow, red, yellow, red, then
Disappears.
And though the sky’s clear and my hands should be freezing, they’re really not cold now.
In fact, nothing is.
Chapter 16: Monday, eighth night
The taxi man looked a bit miffed. He’d turned up to get me at twenty past seven regardless and I’d just said, “no need this morning.” Taff and I walk the whole way into school and he carries my books.
It’s a whole brand new week. Seven nights in the body of Miss Phoebe Mint and no sign of a change. The chic clothes are wonderful, my house is a dream and elegant but I want my life back, for certain. And I’m starting to wonder if that’s ever going to happen, to be honest.
We see Kai on the way. With Felix, shooting hoops. And he whoops as we enter the gate. He stops, mid ball-spin and he scratches his chin and I think he says, “Broxley? Damn straight? What a hero!” But only to himself and Taff chucks him a smile and checks on the sky ‘cos it’s deepening, darkening and maybe we should have got in that cab.