Dark Heart Forever (11 page)

I grasped the door handle and pressed down to open it.

‘Please, Jane. Don’t go.’ Evan turned me towards him, his beautiful face pleading. It almost melted me, but Sarah had spoiled it all. And she wasn’t even here.

‘I want to go home,’ I repeated coldly.

He said nothing and I climbed out of his car, slamming the door. It had started raining, large drops of cold water, and I hugged myself as I walked quickly back to the house.

Mum was feeding the dog when I appeared in the kitchen, wet through. Miserable.

‘That was quick,’ she said, straightening up. Her eyes took in my face ‘Sweetheart? What happened?’

‘Nothing.’ My voice was flat. ‘I’m going upstairs.’

She moved towards me. ‘Did he … What did he do?’ She reached out her hand.

‘He didn’t do anything … I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘But—’

‘Please.’ I walked past her and into the hall. As I reached the stairs, Dot skittered out from the living room.

‘I missed him,’ she wailed, tugging at my hand. ‘I missed Evan!’ She swung on my arm, before she realised I was not smiling.

‘Janey.’ She stopped. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

‘Nothing, Dottie,’ I stroked her hair.

Everything’s wrong, I thought.

And then I moved past her and began climbing the stairs to my room. I knew she was looking up at me, anxious, but I just couldn’t comfort her. It was all I could do to comfort myself.

Later, lying on my bed, I heard the phone downstairs ring and my mother called up to me, but I turned out my light and ignored her.

I pressed my face against my pillow and longed for a friend. Someone I could trust. I’d begun to think that friend could be Evan, but the only person I could see in my mind right then was a tall, dark, delicate boy with the kindest eyes I’d ever seen.

T
he next day began with a fresh fall of snow. I woke to see ice draped around the panes in my bedroom window and pushed my quilt up to my neck.

Downstairs, Dot’s excited voice urged my father to go outside and play snowballs with her.

‘You’re late!’ I heard my mother yelling to my sister above the sound of the radio in the kitchen. ‘Get in the truck and Dad will take you to school.’

Dot’s protests faded and then the back door shut with a loud bang. At the same time, Mum switched off the radio and the house stood in silence. I waited for her to shout at me to get up, but there was only the sound of footsteps in the hall and the back door opening and shutting again.

As much as my family drove me mad sometimes, I didn’t like being alone in the house. Even though Mum had probably just gone outside to get the post from the box at the end of the track, I felt agitated. The house was eerie.

I turned over and slid my hand across the sheet then under the pillow, my fingers touching the hard case of the notebook. I dragged it out, and levered myself up to lean against the headrest, and examined the shabby cover once again. It had to be decades old, and holding it I felt a pleasant thrill. I was holding on to a piece of somebody’s life, somebody’s feelings. I opened the journal to where I had left off the last time.

There were more drawings, some done in ink-pen: ornate, detailed – a sketch of a face caught my eye and I turned the book to study it at the right angle. It was a slender face, rigid cheekbones, deep-set eyes, framed by curls. I couldn’t tell whether it was male or female. By the side of it was a sketch of gates and a large, grand building. I stared at the face again – something about it registered as familiar, but I couldn’t think how. Then I turned the page to find another short entry:

December
, she wrote.
Another freezing day and I’m beginning to think you aren’t real. That I simply dreamed you
…
If it weren’t for the pendant you gave me, I would certainly think so. I keep it somewhere safe and when she’s asleep I think of you, but you don’t come. Have you forgotten me already? My mother is getting better. Today she ate a whole bowl of soup, even some bread. It’s such a relief, when only a few months ago I thought she would never recover. But she is strong. I read to her at night and sometimes I want to tell her about you. About how much there is between us. And I get angry, because none of this is simple. And she would never understand. I’ve thought endlessly about us, and every way I look I can’t see a way it would work between us. But then how can I ever be without you? Sixteen years old and I feel my life is over. At least, if you are truly gone forever, I will be lonely forever.

The entry stopped abruptly then, but I lingered on that last sentence. Melodramatic as it was, something about it resonated strongly with me.

I shut the book quickly, not wanting to dwell on how it made me feel. Then I slipped the notebook under my pillow and lay back. By now I should have felt happy. At the beginning of something wonderful. But instead I felt muddled and sad. I wrinkled my nose, willing the melancholy away, and thought of Evan. The crinkles around his eyes and their colour, that unearthly bright blue.

I rolled my head on the pillow and my eyelids drooped, but a scratching sound opened them again. I shifted and propped myself up on my elbows. A familiar face looked down at me.

‘Luca?’ I grabbed the quilt with one hand and sat up properly. There were two pink spots on his alabaster cheeks, but the green of his eyes was as intense as ever.

‘Good morning, Jane.’ He perched on the bed, rubbing at his knees. His coat was covered with bits of twig and flakes of snow. ‘Sorry to wake you.’

‘How did you … ?’ My eyes darted to the window, which swung open.

‘I hope you don’t think this is indecent.’ He grinned, studying my quilt. ‘Visiting an unmarried lady in her chamber.’

I shuffled back down under the covers. ‘It is a little indecent,’ I said, smiling. ‘And quite a risk.’

‘Ah. I saw your mother walking to the town,’ said Luca. ‘I figured it was safe to come in.’

I shook my head.

‘God knows what she’d make of you,’ I said wryly. ‘You look like a Victorian urchin.’

He looked blank. ‘I have no idea what that is, but I’ll take it as a compliment.’ He started undoing the buttons on his coat and shed it. He wore only a white T-shirt and dark-blue carpenter jeans. He looked delicate. Pale. Regal.

‘You must be freezing.’ As I spoke an icy blast from the open window drifted over to the bed. Luca seemed unaffected.

‘I’ve been on the move,’ he explained. ‘I’m still warm from travelling here.’

I yawned, looking at the alarm clock.

‘It’s very early,’ I said. ‘Has something happened?’

He shifted on the bed. ‘Not exactly.’ He paused, sniffing and picking at an invisible thread on the bedspread. ‘But I have had a request from my mother,’ he went on. ‘She wants to meet my … girlfriend.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘You have a girlfriend?’

The pink in his cheeks spread across his face. It was adorable.

I waited a beat before putting him out of his misery.

‘OK,’ I sighed. ‘So you told your mother about me?’

He hesitated, then, ‘Not me. Dalya. The demon.’

‘Oh.’ I smiled sympathetically. ‘So … ?’

He looked a little pleading. ‘I wouldn’t ask …’

‘But you need me to pretend?’ I stuck my arm out of the bed and gestured to my hoodie. ‘Pass me that – and close the window would you?’

Luca stood obediently and did as I instructed, bringing my sweatshirt over to the bed. He perched on the edge, watching me as I wrapped myself in the hoodie. I sank back against the pillow, surprised at how unselfconscious I felt in front of him.

‘My parents are going to spend time with the greats,’ said Luca. ‘They will be away for a week or so.’

‘The greats?’

‘What you call “grandparents”.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Which is a very long-winded term if you ask me. You people are weird.’

‘I hardly think you’re in a position to call mortal traditions weird,’ I said, raising an eyebrow.

‘Perhaps.’ He eyed me, amused. ‘The point is … I have foolishly agreed … to bring you to our midday meal today.’

It was clearly meet-the-parents week. I suppressed an ironic smile.

‘If this is too much,’ Luca began, ‘I will understand.’

For a minute I thought of Evan. But what was the point?

‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t doing anything anyway.’

Luca gave me a curious look. ‘It’s a liberty,’ he said, glumly. ‘You’re spoken for, I know that.’

I tried not to give anything away in my expression. It was humiliating somehow to have to admit that I’d made a mistake with the smooth-talking Australian boy.

‘You know what,’ I said, brightening, ‘I’d like to meet your family.’

‘Really?’ The serious green eyes lit up. ‘Wonderful!’ He grabbed my hand with his, and it was as though I had sunk my fingers in warm, soothing water. Momentarily I closed my eyes, enjoying it, before I stopped and pulled away. We looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of us knowing what the other was thinking, before the thud of more snowfall against the bedroom window made us both jump.

‘I’m ready when you are,’ said Luca then.

I took a deep breath, glancing at the slag heap of clothing on my chair.

‘Oh dear,’ I said, sighing. ‘I haven’t got a thing to wear.’

Luca waited with his back turned as I dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt and my trusty, long grey cardigan.

‘I’ll have to steal something from my mother I suppose,’ I said, tugging one plimsoll over my heel. ‘For the ball.’

‘It’s not for a couple of weeks,’ Luca said, finally turning round. ‘I would offer to pay for something, but … our currency would not be accepted on mortal Earth.’

I grinned. ‘Oh, I’ll think of something,’ I said, then looked down at myself. ‘Something more suitable than this. Your mum’s going to take me for a boy.’

‘No chance of that,’ Luca muttered, and for a second our eyes met, in an awkward kind of acknowledgment.

‘I need to call my dad,’ I said. ‘Tell him I’ll be out for a bit. I think he’s picking up some timber this morning, but this snow probably means he’ll be back early.’ I picked up my address book and flipped through to find Dad’s number.

‘Don’t you have one of those portable telephone things?’ said Luca, looking curiously at the book.

‘Nope.’ I located Dad’s mobile number, which I still hadn’t memorised. ‘No point.’

‘Quite right,’ said Luca. ‘I am amused by the mortal obsession with constant communication. What do you all find to talk about?’

Keeping my finger on the right page, I closed the address book and poked him with it.

‘Not everyone shares our antisocial tendencies, Luca,’ I said. ‘But for the record, it baffles me too.’

‘You’d better make your call,’ he said gruffly, looking out of the window. ‘I do appreciate this, Jane.’

‘No problem.’ I opened the bedroom door. ‘Stay here. I’ll be right back.’

Downstairs, I left a message on Dad’s phone. Mum was still out somewhere and when I ended the call, I glimpsed a piece of paper on the table with her handwriting on it.
GONE FOR A WALK TO ABIGAIL’S HOUSE
, it began. Abigail was Mum’s best friend and she lived the other side of Bale, which meant Mum would be gone hours.
EVAN CALLED. TWICE. LAST NIGHT
.

I held my breath. Should I call him back? Right on cue the phone rang, and I stared at it for a few seconds before picking up.

‘Hello?’ I said cautiously.

‘Jane.’ It was Evan, sounding distinctly less self-assured than usual. ‘I feel so bad about Sarah. I had no idea. Honestly …’ He paused. ‘Can we at least talk about it?’

I hesitated before answering. ‘I don’t know …’

‘You know you can trust me,’ he went on. ‘You do know that, right?’

‘Yes …’ I said uncertainly. Did I know that?

‘I can’t stand the thought of you being mad at me over her. She’s not worth it.’

I said nothing, waiting.

‘And the thought of not seeing you … What can I do to make it better?’

‘I don’t know. And I’m busy today,’ I said, winding the phone cord around my free fingers. ‘I’ll call you.’

‘OK.’

Evan sounded so despondent I felt like I should say more. Give him more. But Luca was waiting for me. I swallowed, torn and guilty, but a movement from upstairs resolved me.

‘I’ll call you,’ I repeated. And I hung up.

When I got back upstairs my bedroom was empty. The window was still open, creaking, and I walked over to shut it, looking down to our yard as I did. Luca was lurking behind Dad’s shed, fully wrapped in his coat. He lifted a hand to wave at me. I grinned. I hadn’t thought through how I would get him out of the house the conventional way.

I put another layer on – the poncho – and sprinted downstairs to where he stood.

‘This won’t take long,’ said Luca. He slipped around the back of the shed and I followed, glancing behind me to check that nobody had seen us.