Nightingale Point. Luan Goldie

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СКАЧАТЬ her and twisted a lock of her hair around his finger.

      ‘You’re not scared of my dad, are you?’ she asked suddenly.

      ‘It depends. What did he do to your last boyfriend?’

      ‘I told you, I’ve not had boyfriends.’ She moved away from him then, as far as the single bed would allow, and he braced himself to hear bad news. ‘But when I first moved to London one of the youth coaches from running club called my house to ask me out.’

      ‘And?’

      ‘Well, Dad answered. He went nuts because the coach was twenty-one.’

      ‘So you do like older guys then?’

      She picked up the pillow and hit his shoulder with it. She was constantly trying to play down their age gap, it embarrassed her, but to him it wasn’t an issue, she felt so much older, more mature than most of the girls he met at university.

      ‘Dad accused the guy of being a predator, almost got him fired. He said if I saw him again he would send me back to Portishead. That’s always the threat, sending me back.’

      ‘The coach thing is a bit dodgy, though. It’s like that teacher and student barrier. It’s not meant to be crossed. Let’s wait till you’re out of school, then you can tell your dad.’

      Malachi pictured it often, the first time he would meet her dad, Jay, properly. How it would be awkward at the start but eventually Jay would be won over by the fact that his daughter was with someone about to gain a university degree, someone with goals and ambitions, someone who would look after Pamela and make sure she was always happy.

      She shook her head. ‘He never needs to know. It’s not worth the aggro.’

      This issue, it was the only thing that ever annoyed him about her, this feeling that he needed to be kept hidden. It didn’t make any sense, especially when they talked about long-term plans, the trips they would take, the cities they would work in and the home he would design for them in some perfect location far from the city. But none of that stuff could happen if their relationship was to remain a secret.

      Malachi hated to give a voice to the thing in his head, but it was there and wouldn’t go away. ‘So apart from my age, there isn’t anything else your dad would have a problem with about me, is there?’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘You know what I mean, Pam. Don’t make me ask you outright.’

      She pulled her hair up into a ponytail and looked away. ‘Mal, I’ve told you already, he’s not like that. He doesn’t like me seeing anyone. Black, white, purple, green.’

      ‘You say that, but have you ever heard him say that?’

      ‘He hates everyone and everything. He wants me sitting in the living room, right under his nose, where he can see me. I’m all he’s got.’

      Malachi nodded. It wasn’t a conversation worth ruining their afternoon for. ‘So, you wouldn’t want to live with your mum again?’

      ‘She doesn’t want me. She’s got her new life now, new husband, new job. Why would she want her teenage daughter messing it all up? She always made Dad out to be the bad one, but he’s the one who looks after me. He’s a little over-protective sometimes, that’s all.’

      Malachi pictured her dad waiting at the front door for her to return home each evening, ready with his interrogation about where she had been and who she had been with.

      ‘A little over-protective?’ he says.

      ‘Dad’s sister got pregnant at fifteen and it ruined her life. He doesn’t want me going the same way.’

      ‘That would never happen with us.’

      She rolled back into the bed next to him. ‘Boys are troublesome.’

      ‘Except me. I’m the least troublesome boy you could have found.’

      ‘Really? We’ll see.’

      Why did he allow himself to mess up so badly with her? How could he let her dad get the better of him?

      He needs some air, some perspective. He scribbles a note for Tristan: Gone out for a walk. Need to clear head and goes out. As he walks down the stairs he hears humming on the third floor. Shit, Beryl must be tending to her plastic garden again. He could do without being caught up listening to her go on today.

      ‘Hello, Mr Long Legs,’ she calls.

      ‘Hi Beryl, can’t stop.’ He catches her disappointment as he runs past and immediately feels guilty; swears to pop by later. Beryl, like most women in the block of a certain age, seems to have a certain fondness for him. Tristan says it’s sometimes like Nan has them all on payroll for interfering.

      He takes the steps two at a time till he reaches the ground floor.

      ‘Your lifts are out again?’ he shouts towards the open door of the caretaker’s cubbyhole.

      A grey head pops out, mop in hand. ‘What did you say, son?’

      ‘The lifts are out.’

      ‘Yep. Both on the blink.’ The caretaker smiles, as if having announced some welcome news. ‘And you’re not the first person today to point that out to me either.’

      The sun is searing, it’s full summer already and Malachi’s clothes feel too heavy and warm for the day. He hadn’t even registered the seasons change.

      There’s a crack of laughter from by the car park. He spots Tristan, glowing in his white shorts and T-shirt, with the local hoods. Malachi doesn’t want to be called over to touch fists with them like he is part of their group, like he won’t, later on today, have a go at Tristan for associating with them. He jogs off quickly across Sandford Road and out onto the green. He looks back at Nightingale Point and counts up the floors to Pamela’s flat, half expecting to see her on the balcony, chewing her ponytail and observing the world below. But of course she’s not there, she’s gone. He didn’t expect to still feel this way, a month on. He thought being without her would have gotten easier, that he would have stopped missing her. But every day it seems to get worse.

      There are more people than usual on the grass. Some look prepared for the weather, with supermarket food, blankets and sunglasses. Though most, like him, are caught off guard and look uncomfortable in their dark colours and too-warm clothes. Malachi used to love summer; him and Tristan would sit out on the balcony and suck on the coloured chunks of ice they would make themselves by pouring diluted juice into ice cube trays. Mum loved the summer too; it made her want to get out of the house. He can’t remember her depression ever taking hold during the summer months. But then he tries not to remember too much about her.

      It wasn’t planned but when he looks up he realises he’s walked all the way to the swimming pool, the place he and Pamela first started talking, and across from it the café where they spent so much time together. He walks in alone and sits at the usual table, СКАЧАТЬ