Page 30 of Musical Games
He nodded.
She smiled brightly at him. ‘Okay, then. I’m sure it’s beautiful.’
They walked more quickly down the high street, then Jamie led her off to the right, through a gap in a stone wall and down to the rocky shore. The rain clouds were emptying themselves over the water. The only thing before them was a wall of grey.
Sam pushed a wet strand of hair out of her face. ‘It’s er, very, er majestic.’
Jamie gritted his teeth. This was a woman who’d seen the world and he was showing her a whole lot of nothing.
‘Is this where you bring all the girls?’ She was still smiling, but the rain was running down her face and taking her eye make-up with it.
He jammed his hands deeper into his pockets. He didn’t want to answer her.
‘Were you ever interested in Zoe? Your mum said she wanted the two of you to get together.’
He stared at his feet.
‘Did you ever kiss her?’
‘It’s none of your business. I don’t want to talk about stuff like that. We’re here to write music. That’s all.’
Her laugh sounded flat. ‘I’m not going to tell Mrs McCreedie your secrets. Don’t you trust me?’
He looked up. She was soaked through and had started to shiver. ‘No. No, I don’t. Come on, let’s go. You look like a drowned rat.’
10
Jamie slept badly. Again. Even if he wasn’t in the same room as Sam, he was aware of her. It was like the air was different or every room in the house suddenly seemed smaller. Nothing had changed in his immediate surroundings for as long as he could remember. That had always been a comfort, but now he felt restless. He’d read his book to try and distract him from the noises of her downstairs with his mum, and the sounds of her in the bathroom on the other side of the wall from where he lay. He’d finally fallen asleep facing the direction of her room and had woken late the next morning with a sore neck, lying in exactly the same position.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his arms away from his body and outside the covers. He refused to touch himself. He knew it would only offer temporary relief. Then the raging need would return like a spring tide. He was torn between wanting to spend every moment with her and desperately counting the minutes till she was out of his life. As soon as she had gone, everything could go back to normal. He could love her four times a week through the television. He heard footsteps on the stairs, then a knock on his door. He sat, bunching the covers over his lap.
‘I’m awake. You can come in.’
She opened the door, her curves framed by the light outside. Why the fuck did she have to wear all those tight skirts? Why didn’t she dress more like Zoe?
‘Are you okay?’
He realised he’d dropped his head into his hands and audibly sighed. ‘Yeah, fine. Just didn’t sleep well.’
‘I wanted you to know I applied for permission to cook you breakfast.’
The smile spread across his face. ‘Are you now in an appeals process?’
‘Well, the committee of one did struggle to make a decision. However, I put in my request in front of a packed crowd in the post office and also volunteered the information that I spent three years as a short order cook in a greasy spoon café incident-free.’
Embarrassment burned through him. ‘You asked Mum if you could cookmebreakfast in front ofotherpeople? When?’
‘About ten minutes ago.’
He glanced at the bedside clock, then clutched his head. ‘Jesus Christ, no.’
‘It’s only eleven o’clock. It’s not that bad.’
He groaned. ‘It’s a weekday. Fuck’s sake. They’re going to think the worst.’
There was silence. He looked up to see her leaning against the side of the door, her arms crossed. ‘And what would “the worst” entail, Jamie?’
He was too hot. He needed to jump in a cold shower. Or the loch.
