To Be Honest(43)

“The fact that Taff knows,” he says, above groans from the kitchen, ‘cos the white sauce has gone all nasty, “is alright as long as he doesn’t do anything false, or lie either. So that requires honesty from every party.”

I tell him that’s fine (but I do draw the line at admitting I find Taff quite sexy). He’s looking well fit and his sparkling wit has been really on form since my taxi dropped me off back at home. He gets up to roam round the house like he’s never been in it. I say,

“What’s wrong, Taff?” and he looks kind of amazed but then shakes himself.

“Wine’s well nice, innit?”

We sit down at seven. The lasagne’s heaven and I think Miss Mint’s missing a treat, but when we’ve all eaten the main course, with feet on the table, Taff rocks back his seat. Resisting the urge to say, “Mr Broxley-Hunt, feet off,” I just smile ‘cos it looks like he’s waiting to speak.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, and he’s picking his teeth with a

Little gold toothpick.

“What about something less daunting?” He’s flaunting and rocking and flexing his muscles in front of Mr Morlis in a rather strange way, I would say. “Let’s just see how it goes, yeah?” and he wiggles his toes in his socks, ‘cos his shoe’s fallen

Off.

Mr Morlis looks grim. He leans forward and picks up his knife, stabs it down on his plate, once. “Does Kai know?”

There is silence, then Taff shakes his head.

“No!” and then yells, “ow, ow, ow!!!” and he grabs at his knee. “Sorry, kids, I just have like, a recurring thing. Torn cartilage, right, Lisi ... Phee?”

And I think, Phee ? And kids ? And innit ? And why this great pain in his knee? And my skin starts to bubble and boil like there’s been burning oil dumped on top, like in history where they chuck it on your head and things are out of sync now, they’re odd; they don’t

fit together like they were just beginning to.

Mr Morlis gets there first.

“Kai Swanning?”

And Taff takes his feet down immediately.

* * *

“So, when did it happen?”

I’m perching on Posy , all liquid, with Mr Morlis solid, chilled, next to me. Taff’s letting off steam by pacing the floor. I mean, Kai is.

“Monday. In the storm. I saw Taff when you both walked to school.”

I think back to yesterday. Yes, big rain, in the morning, when he’d walked me and dropped me and Kai’d said, my hero and I’d seen Debono and Joe and I’d talked to Miss Mint by the gate and he’d got in my car and he’d driven ... wait.

“You drove? You drove my car home? You’re sixteen. That’s illegal !”

He says, “you can talk! It’s not even your car!” and I think, Taff’s Lamborghini. Did he get home, take it out?! Then I think, this is a lot of unnecessary exclamation mark-type comments to be making, and anyway, that isn’t the point. Mr Morlis agrees.

“Let’s get back on track,” he says, templing his fingers. “This makes things all quite awkward.” And he twists his face so his forehead disappears into his scalp, then comes back again. It happens twice, then he’s got it.

“The thing is,” he says, “with four people it either makes it doubly hard to switch back or it might , in fact should make things easier.”

“How do you work that out?” I say, but only half-listening ‘cos I’m thinking of the night I’ve already spent in this house with Kai Swanning and the fact we’ve only got three days left to switch back if we’re going to and how can we still be in with a chance.

“Well, with two people, they need to be utterly honest, which can be draining. But with four, you all know what’s in store, so you can use each other for support.”

“Will we swap back the same time?”

I’m quite scared, to be honest. ‘Cos what if the KaiTaff swap stops Pheebs’ and mine from reversing? What if we all get held back?

“I can’t see why not if no one breaks the rules. So no lies. Just stay true to yourselves.”

He smiles, winningly, charmingly and I think of Olly Goddard in physics last term, shivering in swimming trunks, climbing into a dustbin full of water to demonstrate density and

Displacement.

That’s why Mr Morlis is a legend. I cheer up a bit and when he’s gone and it’s Kai and me, first thing I say is, “we’re not sleeping in the same bed.”

He looks at me, touches my hair like outside his house a lifetime ago and it’s better then ‘cos he says, “yes, so Taff said. That’s totally cool. I mean, you’re a schoolgirl.”