Nightingale Point. Luan Goldie

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СКАЧАТЬ off the safety latches and pushes them all wide open. The phone rings, startling him. Month to month it gets cut off so he’s always shocked when the thing actually works.

      ‘Hallo?’

      ‘Tristan?’

      ‘Yup.’

      ‘It’s Pamela.’

      ‘What is this? All the old ghosts are popping up today.’ He untwists the phone cord and walks back over to the mirror. ‘What you want?’

      ‘I need to speak to Mal.’ She has a desperate edge to her voice. It reminds Tristan of all the times he walked in on her and Malachi holding hands, knee-deep in a conversation about how much they loved each other. They were so intense.

      ‘He ain’t here. He’s gone out.’

      ‘Don’t lie to me. He never goes out.’

      ‘Well, you been gone a month; people change.’

      She sighs into the phone. ‘I really, really need to talk to him.’

      ‘For what? Can’t you find some mug in Portsmouth to buy you trainers?’

      ‘It wasn’t like that. And I’m from Portishead. But I’m not there anymore. I’m upstairs. Got back a few days ago. Is he really not there?’

      Tristan huffs.

      ‘Okay, listen. I need you to give him a letter from me. Will you come up in about fifteen minutes?’

      ‘Do I look like Royal Mail to you? Post it!’ Tristan doesn’t want to go back to being the third wheel in their relationship. He’s only just got his brother back.

      ‘Please. You don’t understand what these last few weeks have been like.’

      She rabbits on, blah blah blah. He rubs his lower abs and wonders how much it would cost to get a tattoo across them. Maybe some scripture or something. Some Chinese writing.

      Pamela is now crying down the other end. He has better things to do with his bank holiday.

      ‘Look,’ he cuts her off mid-sentence, ‘why you giving me this breakdown of your relationship? I ain’t Martin Bashir. What do you want from me?’

      ‘My dad’s locked me in,’ she says. ‘So, please, come up and take the letter.’

      He flops down on the sofa, wondering if he should help. Pamela did make Malachi happy while it lasted. It was good for him to get his lanky leg over something, even if it was her. But the drama of them was exhausting, all the crying and the constant threat of her crazy dad hanging over everything. Tristan used to get proper paranoid whenever she was in the flat and the door would knock; he was almost waiting for her dad to bust in and kick Mal’s arse. Or worse. So when Pamela up and left for Plymouth it was sort of a relief.

      ‘Tris? Will you help me?’

      ‘I’m busy,’ he says, and it’s true. Who has the time to go running about, trying to fix up other people’s love lives? Tristan’s not sure if the whole thing was even worth it. He knows plenty of hotter girls that would give it up for less than Pamela. A lot less. We’re talking a bag of chips here.

      ‘Tristan, please, come on. It’s not going to kill you to leave your flat for five minutes.’

      He purses his lips and remembers how Mal pestered him to find out who Pamela was after seeing her run around the field like a hamster in a wheel. It was unusual that he took an interest in any girl, but then he’d been so busy since Nan left, trying to juggle studying and ‘playing dad’. Tristan was glad when Mal gave that up. Finally they started up their Donkey Kong tournament again in the evenings. Except for the times when he would be sneaking about with Pam, probably kissing around the back of the bins or something, or sharing a milkshake in that nasty little café near the swimming pool.

      ‘Why won’t you help me?’ she pleads.

      So pathetic. But they did kind of like each other and it was rare of Malachi to do anything other than frown most days.

      ‘Tris, I’m begging you.’

      ‘Okay,’ Tristan finally says. ‘I’ll think about it.’

CHAPTER TEN

       Chapter Ten ,Mary

      ‘Mary, I didn’t know we were seeing each other today.’

      Mary gives Harris a weak smile as she steps over the threshold and kicks her plimsolls onto either side of the stripy woven mat.

      ‘I’ve just got in.’ He closes the front door from the prying eyes of neighbours before kissing her. ‘I had a union meeting about next year’s exams. Can you believe it? On a Saturday? Went on and on.’ He walks quickly into the large room that makes up the living space of the bungalow and over to the hob, where he fiddles with the knobs and stops the hiss of gas.

      ‘I was trying out a new recipe – cannellini bean mash – but it doesn’t quite look edible.’ He laughs and wipes his hands on the tea towel that hangs over his shoulder. ‘Sorry, I’m rambling. Are you okay, Mary? I really wasn’t expecting you.’

      ‘Harris, I need to talk with you.’ She takes a deep breath but already feels her resolve waver. Something about the smell of lemons, Harris’s frequent failed attempts to cook, and his thin, perpetually tanned arms make her want to change her mind, to not end the affair, to divorce David, to marry Harris and to be with him always.

      ‘I can’t sleep,’ she says. ‘I keep thinking about what we are doing. How wrong it is.’

      ‘Oh, not this again.’ He turns away.

      ‘Yes, Harris. We need to stop. I am having nightmares. All week, these horrible dreams waking me up.’ She does not want to say anymore, for speaking her visions out loud somehow makes them more real.

      ‘You are stressed. Overworked again. I told you, stop taking on so many double shifts.’ Harris sits down next to her; the smell of tobacco on his skin ignites a craving for a cigarette. She takes the fob watch from her pocket and passes it from hand to hand.

      ‘Oh, your watch broke?’

      ‘I’ve had it twelve years.’ David had set the time eight hours ahead when he gave it to her. ‘Now you always know what time it is where I am,’ he said, but she immediately reset it to show her time.

      ‘Here, let me see if I can fix it.’ Harris takes the watch into his speckled hands.

      ‘No.’ She snatches it back. ‘David’s coming home.’

      ‘When?’

      Mary shrugs. ‘He’s on standby for a flight. I’m not sure if he’s coming here directly or stopping by somewhere СКАЧАТЬ