‘I know what you mean. You can imagine what it used to be like when it really was a village, before all the cars and stuff.’
They fell into silence again, just walking slowly past the Scientific Institution and then the United Reformed Church.
‘Shall we walk down to the Heath?’ said Gabriel.
April shook her head reluctantly. ‘I should get back. I don’t want my dad to come down and attack you with a golf club.’
Well, not any more,
she thought to herself.
‘I’d better walk you back, then.’
‘So that’s it?’ she asked, not wanting the moment to end, but feeling her face start to go numb. That wasn’t a good look, whatever the Botox addicts claimed.
‘I wish you didn’t have to go,’ he said in a low, quiet voice.
‘If you’d come a bit earlier ...’ she teased, but his expression was serious.
‘Believe me, it would be better for both of us if I had stayed away, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, I was miserable, I needed to see you. And -’ he smiled ’- if I’m going to be your protector, I need to be here, don’t I?’
They were back outside her gate and she reluctantly shrugged off his coat. Handing it back, their eyes locked.
Please kiss me, please kiss me,
she said in her head, hoping the positive thinking would work again.
This time, he has to,
she pleaded. For a moment, the wish seemed to hang in the air and in slow motion, April watched Gabriel’s lips part slightly. Then he reached out and brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. She tilted her head towards his touch, loving the warmth on her skin.
‘What is it?’ he said.
April couldn’t speak; she just shook her head and frowned.
‘What’s your favourite place? D’you remember? You said you were going to show me your favourite place.’
‘Oh,’ she said, a little disappointed. ‘Covent Garden. There’s a little patisserie there I love.’
‘Good doughnuts?’
‘Chocolate éclairs, actually.’ She smiled.
‘Well, you’ll have to take me there one day, soon.’
‘Maybe,’ she said, turning towards the door, but he caught her arm.
‘No, definitely,’ he said. ‘Definitely.’
April slipped back inside the house and closed the door, leaning her back against it.
Good God, what was all that about?
she wondered, putting her hand to her cheek where Gabriel had touched it. Then she slipped off the borrowed shoes and ran all the way up the stairs, grinning like an idiot.
Chapter Sixteen
For once, April didn’t need an alarm; she was out of bed and into the bathroom before the sun had made it above the horizon. Despite the grey light, April felt perky and full of energy and, after a brisk shower, was ready for the most important task of the day: getting ready for school. Today, what she wore had taken on a whole new dynamic; not only did she need to look studious and clever, she also needed to be devastatingly sexy. Obviously, whatever she wore was going to be better than her impromptu date outfit, but even so, she wanted to look amazing in case she bumped into Gabriel, which was highly likely as this was Wednesday and she had Philosophy first thing. Tops, skirts and trousers were tried and discarded and her entire wardrobe was soon piled up on the bed. Finally she decided on black leggings, a navy and white striped T-shirt and ballet pumps, which she thought looked very Kate Moss chic but at the same time didn’t look as if she’d spent an hour picking it out. She skipped down the stairs and was surprised to find her father already sitting at the breakfast bar, bent over a bowl of Rice Krispies.
‘Hey, rabbit,’ he said, ‘you’re up bright and early.’
She gave him a kiss and waltzed past to pop some bread into the toaster.
‘What’s all this?’ Her father said. ‘Has your mother been feeding you her Prozac? Yesterday you had a face like a wet weekend. Why the bouncy mood?’
‘Why not?’ said April playfully. ‘Can’t I just be happy?’
William looked at her with amusement. ‘Of course, be my guest.’ He smiled. ‘But if you see the real April, let her know she’s welcome back here any time.’
April stuck her tongue out at him and went to get a plate from the cupboard. ‘So what’s on at work today?’ she asked.
Her father shrugged. ‘More on these murders. It’s not often you get a murder in this neck of the woods, let alone two, so I’m under pressure to come up with something solid and exclusive pretty quick before the national boys do. It’s tough being on a weekly, with no crime desk and a fraction of the tabloids’ resources.’
‘And are you getting anywhere?’
‘Dunno, maybe. I’ll know more tonight. I’ve got one pretty strong lead. If it’s genuine, it might well be a big break in the case.’
‘Sounds exciting.’
‘Hmm, perhaps. Might also tie in with the book I’m writing. And you? What’s on at school?’
‘I’ve got Philosophy first - oh no!’ April’s sunny mood melted away as she realised two things in quick succession. First, she hadn’t read the book she was supposed to be discussing - and given her performance in the last class, Hawk was bound to ask her something - and secondly, Benjamin Osbourne was going to be there. And where Benjamin went, Marcus Brent was sure to follow. She shuddered involuntarily at the thought of seeing him again.
‘What is it, honey?’ asked her father.
‘Oh, uh, nothing,’ said April quickly.
‘It doesn’t look like nothing.’
‘I, um, I forgot to read that story. You know, that John Wyndham one?’
Her dad put down his spoon and reached for his briefcase. ‘Ah, well, that’s where I can help you.’
She looked at him with hope. ‘Have you read it?’
‘No,’ he said, opening up his laptop. ‘But I bet Wikipedia has.’
‘Oh, Dad, you’re a genius!’ she said, throwing her arms around him from behind.
‘Steady on.’ He laughed. ‘I’m not sure I should even be doing this. It’s not exactly in the parenting handbook - “help your child cheat on homework”.’
‘Maybe just this once it’s okay.’
The phone rang. April’s heart leapt.
Gabriel?
‘I’ll get the phone, you keep on the homework,’ she said as she ran towards the hall. She skidded to a halt by the hall table and realised that the phone wasn’t in its cradle.
‘Dad! Where’s the phone?’ she cried.
‘It might be in my study,’ her dad called from the kitchen.
Damn this wireless technology.
She ran into the study and began rummaging through his mess.
Why can’t he keep this place tidy?
she thought, picking up handfuls of paper and books desperately. She finally tracked the insistent chirping to a shape hidden under a copy of
New Scientist
and snatched it up.
‘Hello?’ she almost shouted.
‘Hey, my ears!’ It was her grandfather.
‘Oh, hello, Gramps.’ She was unable to hide the disappointment in her voice. There was no reason why Gabriel would call this soon, but at least, after last night, she was pretty sure he
would
call. Wasn’t she?
‘Is that all the hello I get?’ said her grandfather testily. ‘Have I upset my granddaughter in some way? Have I insulted you by calling to see how you are getting along?’
‘Sorry, Gramps.’ April sighed. ‘I didn’t mean ... I was expecting someone else.’
‘That much I know!’ roared Thomas. ‘That I can see! And who is more important than your own flesh and blood, hmm? Tell me that!’
April held the phone away from her ear as he continued to rant. It wasn’t an unusual situation; her grandfather’s phone calls often descended into anger and shouting over imagined slights. Last week, he had yelled at April’s father for taking five rings to pick up the phone. ‘Why does it take you so long? Am I not important enough to leave your stupid work for one minute?’ It was easy to see where her mother got her hair-trigger fuse from. April knew it was just the way her grandfather was and, at his age, it was futile to expect him to change, but this morning she just didn’t have time or patience for it.
‘Listen, Gramps, I love talking to you,’ she said firmly, ‘but I’ve got to go to school right now and before that I’ve got to do something important for my coursework.’
‘So I am not as important as your school—’ he began, but April wasn’t listening.
‘Love you Gramps, speak later,’ she said and pressed the ‘end’ button.
April was overcome by a wave of guilt. It wasn’t her granddad’s fault that he wasn’t Gabriel of course, but why did he - and every other adult in her life - have to give her a hard time about nothing? She stood there tense and anxious, annoyed that her previous buoyant mood could be so easily shattered by one disappointment. Sighing, she bent to pick up the papers that had scattered onto the floor during her frantic phone search. As she was scooping them up, one caught her eye. It had a familiar logo on the headed notepaper:
The Sunday Times
. Curious, she picked it up and before she knew what she was doing, she had read the first few lines.
Dear William,
I’m so glad you were able to come in for interview last Thursday. I’m sure you’re well aware how highly you are regarded here at the ST—our editor Peter Noble is a particular fan of yours. I was hugely impressed by your ideas for setting up a dedicated investigations team in Glasgow and your vision for revamping the reportage in the Scottish edition of the paper.
What’s this?
April thought as she read.
Why didn’t he tell us he was going for an interview with
The Sunday Times? She quickly read the rest, the last paragraph making her gasp.
...
on that basis, and subject to agreeing a mutually beneficial remuneration package, I’d like to formally offer you the position of Senior Editor, to begin immediately. Please let me know your decision as soon as possible. I look forward to hearing fom you.
Yours sincerely,
Paul Bingham,
Publishing Director
April felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. Her brain scrambled to make sense of it. Why, if you’ve been offered a top job on one of the most prestigious papers in the country, would you turn it down for some crappy reporter’s role on a local rag covering parking issues and village fetes? It just didn’t make sense. Then she spotted more of his brightly coloured Post-it notes stuck to the shelves. ‘Vampire hierarchy?’ read one, with the words ‘Three nests? Four?’ scribbled beneath it.
‘Bloody vampires!’ she growled, ripping the note down and striding back into the kitchen.
‘Who was it?’ said her dad, looking up from the computer. Then he spotted the letter in her hand and his eyes widened.
‘What’s this?’ demanded April, waving the letter in his face. ‘Why didn’t you tell us about this?’
His face paled. ‘Listen, April, I was going to talk to you about that.’
‘Oh yes? When, exactly?’
‘I can see that you’re upset, but it was something I had to decide on my own.’
April couldn’t believe her ears. ‘On your
own?’
she shouted. ‘Aren’t I part of this family? Doesn’t this affect me too? I suppose I’m not allowed an opinion?’
‘It’s not that—’
‘Well, what is it then? What? You think it’s perfectly okay to choose to take me away from my life and my friends and dump me in some freaky backwater without even asking me how I feel about it?’
Her dad got up and walked towards her, but April backed away.