Page 60 of Something Borrowed

“Has Raff seen Saoirse or Rollo lately?”

“He met Saoirse for lunch yesterday. Why?”

“Just wondered. His mention of me rescuing him took me back, that’s all.”

Rafferty had been five when he and his parents moved in next door to us. Before then, my mum and dad had been the famous ones in the neighbourhood. My mum had been a well-known stage and screen actress, and my dad was a Hollywood film composer, but they’d been quite normal. My mum rarely wore makeup outside a film set and was prone to doing the school run in her pyjamas. And my dad spent most of his time muttering to himself and looking like he hadn’t brushed his hair for a year.

However, Saoirse and Rollo took the neighbourhood’s X factor up a notch when they moved here from Ireland. They hosted glamorous parties constantly, with music on until three in the morning, and the street crowded with expensive cars. The Kendricks had been rackety and carelessly charming.

My excitement, however, was all about having someone of my own age to play with. My sister considered herself too mature to play with me, and I, in turn, felt the same way about Vinnie. We went to school across London, so none of our friends were within reaching distance.

I met Raff for the first time when he walked casually up the drive to call for me. He hadn’t waited for our parents to make introductions. Saoirse and Rollo might never have gotten around to it, as they tended to spend their time ignoring their son, being stoned, or both.

I’d stared at the small boy. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt like me, but, unlike mine, his clothes were immaculate.

“Hello,” he said, a smile hovering on his mouth. “I’m Rafferty.”

“Stan,” I offered.

“I came to see if you wanted to play.”

I’d hung on the door, observing him. Even then, with tousled strawberry-blond hair and a naughty expression, he’d looked effortlessly glamorous.

“Yes,” I said cautiously. “Do you want to come in?”

“Or you could come round to my house.”

“Are your mum and dad there?”

“Not really,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Saoirse is drunk and asleep so she won’t get up until tonight, and Rollo is out with another woman.”

I blinked in surprise at that information but then focused on the important part. “You call your mum and dad by theirnames?” I said in awe.

He shrugged. “Yeah. Don’t you?”

“No,” I said, startled. I’d only just stopped calling them mummy and daddy, but I kept that fact to myself.

“So, are you coming? We can play in the garden. It’s really wild, so that would be good fun. Or we could play hide-and-seek in Saoirse’s rooms.”

“Yeah, of course.”

I’d happily followed him the same way I’ve done ever since.

We’d been walking down the drive chatting when, my mum’s call stopped us in our tracks. “And just where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

We looked back to where she was standing at the front door. “Oh, we’re off to Raff’s house. Saoirse is drunk and still asleep, and Rollo is out with another woman,” I said blithely. “So, we’re going to play hide-and-seek in her dressing room.”

She’d blinked, but to her credit, she just said gravely, “Well, how about the two of you stay here to play instead? Dad’s home from the orchestra early, and I’ve made scones.”

Raff cocked his head. “What are those?”

“They’re a bit like bread with raisins in them,” I told him. “They’re lovely when they’re warm with butter and jam.”

“Hmm,” he said dubiously, like the smallest gourmet in the business. “That sounds fine to me.”

And so, he’d come to our house. After that, we rarely went to his, but when we did, I was in awe. Our house was shabby and in a constant state of disrepair, as my dad started jobs and then promptly forgot about them when a tune came into his head. We actually lost our lawnmower in the long grass for a few months. Raff’s house was like a film set—filled with expensive furniture and glamorous people. People always hung about, like a royal court with Saoirse and Rollo at its centre.

From then on, my mum insisted on us being at our house most of the time. Raff seemed happy to be with us and away from the racket of drink and drugs. At first, he was like a small and very charming wild animal, but gradually that summer, he’d edged closer, allowing my mum to treat him as one of her own children, enforcing hugs and lots of her opinions.

---