Kisses for Lula (25 page)

Phew. A bit of space to deal with Dad. I glanced over at The Booth. Skinny Sue was looking put out, facing up to the fat man and pointing in my direction.

Now was not a good time to return. I’d do a circuitous route – back past the kitchen; maybe I’d see Dad and pass on the message.

It was a relief to get behind the wooden partitions that screened the bathroom and kitchen entrances and exits from the rest of the restaurant. It was quieter here, and dim. I was about to round the corner to the kitchen
area when I heard Dad’s voice, very agitated.

‘You’re a loser, and I don’t want you near my daughter!’

‘Who’re you calling a loser, mate?’ came Ben’s voice, suddenly sounding belligerent.

‘Don’t call me mate!’

‘Don’t call me loser!’

Dad and Ben?

‘Stay away from Tallulah. She doesn’t need your crap in her life.’

‘I wouldn’t talk if I were you! Take a look at yourself.’

‘I’m not interested in your opinion of me.’ My father’s voice was low and very, very angry. ‘It’s
my
opinion of
you
that counts, because there’s no way my daughter is going to go out with an a–’

‘Now you just hold your horses, mate! I’m not –’

DOODLIIDIIDIPPDIPIPIPDOODLEEDOOOOO. A ridiculous ring tone interrupted Ben’s angry response.

I took a chance and peeked round the corner. Dad was rummaging in his Chanel bag for his phone. He found it and flipped it open.

I couldn’t help a grin at Ben’s outraged face. He didn’t like being ignored. Dad knew what he was doing, stirring this guy up.

‘Hello, Anne darling,’ said Dad, and my hatred of him flooded back at his hypocrisy. ‘
What
? Okay. I’ll be right there. Love you, bye.’ He shut his phone and dropped it
back into his bag. ‘I’m needed at home. I want my daughter back by eleven. AT MY FRONT DOOR. No funny business.’ He was eyeball to eyeball with Ben, who suddenly looked a little cowed. ‘And this is the last time you see her. Understand?’

‘Whatever,’ said Ben sullenly, and he swung away from Dad, back to The Booth. I saw our waitress sashay over to him immediately.

Dad now came careering round the corner, leaving in haste. He didn’t even notice me skulking in the gloom. I bit my lip, thoughts whirling.

Something had happened at home, but it couldn’t be bad if my sisters were okay. I was going to put that out of my mind. Dad had just shortened all available snogging time. Eleven p.m.? That was so unfair! Last week Pen got back at two a.m. and no one had said a word.

I stomped back to The Booth. Right. I had work to do. And if Dad disapproved of Ben, then so much the better.

‘She returns!’ laughed Ben. ‘You take playing hard to get to another level! Look, our food’s arrived.’

I sneezed. My salad had been so liberally peppered it looked like a load of volcanic rock. ‘I see you got another glass of OJ.’

‘Susan says you headbutted our drinks.’

‘Now that’s not very nice, is it?’ I replied, raising an eyebrow. Ben sliced his meat with precision and raised one
in reply. Very sexy. Very, very attractive. ‘I didn’t see her there, that’s all. Did she remember my water?’

‘Nope.’ Ben laughed. ‘Please have some of my orange juice. There’s more than enough.’

‘Certainly is. She likes you – Susan.’

Ben waved his cutlery airily. ‘The one I want to charm is right here.’ He quirked both brows and I melted.

‘Uh . . .’ I replied, and sneezed again.

I picked up my cutlery and looked hard at my salad. Under the pepper, croutons covered every square centimetre of my plate. I started to move them into a tidy heap in the top left corner, scrutinising everything as I did so.

I did not trust this food.

Aha! Just as I’d thought!
That!
That right there!
That
– was not dressing.
That
– was saliva for sure.

‘We were talking about your hobbies?’ said Ben intently.

‘We were?’

‘Yes, I know nothing of them.’ He fiddled in his jacket pocket and when I met his eye, he flushed shyly and looked at his plate.

So sweet!
I thought.

‘Mm,’ I said, ‘I like singing.
Atshoo!
’ Singing was socially acceptable, though Tam called my voice throaty – and not in a good way.

‘Right!’ he said. ‘I didn’t know – I mean, wow. Are you good?’

‘Not at all,’ I said, and we both laughed.

‘Is there something you like doing that you’re no good at?’ I asked him.

‘No,’ he said, and we laughed again. This was so lovely! This was worth waiting for – what others didn’t get a chance to see – how beautifully Ben’s personality measured up to his gorgeous exterior.

I looked at his lips – yummy – and then looked away quickly, but Ben had caught my glance. He dropped his knife and grabbed my hand, running his thumb in a slow circle, ever so lightly, in my curled palm. The intimacy of it took my breath away. A pity because he leaned over the table then and if I’d had oxygen in my brain I would have moved towards him and that would have been it! The first kiss!

Did it happen?

It did not.

I blame the pepper for that sneeze and fully acknowledge that being an inch away from that kind of velocity is a big turnoff.

‘I’m so sorry!’ I gasped.

‘Bless you,’ said Ben, expressionlessly wiping his face with a serviette swiped from my place setting.

He replaced my serviette and sat back.

‘I –’

‘Don’t worry about it. Listen’ – he turned to rummage
in his bag (very respectable boysy satchel) – ‘could you help me out with something?’

‘Sure!’ I blurted.

‘A friend of mine is doing some research for the Science Fair and he’s running a bit behind schedule. He was supposed to get a load of questionnaires answered, but hasn’t had a good response. Could you do one for him . . .’ He rummaged some more ‘. . . It’s in here somewhere. Could you?’

‘Fill out a questionnaire for you?’

‘Pardon?’ Ben was flushed from bending over his satchel. He pulled out a wad of stapled papers. ‘Not for me. For my friend.’

‘Sure,’ I said again.

‘Don’t look at it now,’ said Ben hastily. ‘Let’s not ruin the mood.’

What mood
, I thought moodily. I pushed my pepper and crouton salad away from me.

‘Should we just go?’ asked Ben, reaching for my hand again, and dropping his voice to a husky whisper. Although maybe all that blood from his food was sticking in his throat.

‘Let’s have dessert,’ I said decisively.

‘That might be a problem,’ said Ben.

‘Why?’

‘Our waitress has gone home.’

I looked at him hard. No, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kiss a bloody mouth unless it had been thoroughly cleansed by something before me. ‘We need chocolate,’ I said.

Ben grinned and nodded. ‘The lady shall get whatever she desires,’ he said, hailing the fat man across the restaurant.

Pudding had been sooo good. So, so good.

And it was such a novelty having someone interested in
me
. All we did was talk about me, my life, my friends. It was wonderful . . .

Then after very much chocolate mousse we took a slow amble home.

‘You’re completely different to any of the girls I’ve ever been out with,’ said Ben, taking my hand.

‘Uh-oh,’ I said, thinking,
Get ready to take this on the chin
.

‘I really like the way you were open about your jealousy when Susan was flirting with me,’ he continued.

‘Er,’ I said, wondering how best to put my violent response to him.

‘You were very
male
about it. Y’know, just said what you felt. Is that a trait learned from a strong paternal figure, or is that something you’ve inadvertently learned as a child growing up in a house where the father is perhaps not so very’ – he paused – ‘manly.’

I was a little astonished. Okay, a
lot
astonished.

‘W-w-wha– Pardon?’ I asked.

‘Oops – too much psych talk,’ laughed Ben.

‘I can understand the psych talk,’ I said sharply. ‘I’m just thinking that my dad is actually a very masculine guy, more’s the pity.’

‘Hm,’ said Ben. ‘Okay. And your mum? She seems sweet.’

‘She has a marshmallow outside and a titanium inside,’ I said firmly. ‘And my sisters are totally different to me. We bicker lots, but actually . . .’ I warmed to the topic. It was fun putting my blood relatives under the microscope. Putting Ben straight. I didn’t want him to misunderstand the family he was getting into. (So to speak.)

‘And your friends are important to you?’

I stopped and looked at him seriously. ‘I’ve got sisters, y’know, that I love with all my heart. But my friends . . . I can tell them anything.’

‘Do you talk about your family with them? Troubles you may have at home?’

I started walking again and he fell in step beside me. It was funny he should ask that. I mean, I
can
tell my friends anything, but sometimes I choose not to. Like the Dad situation right now. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about that. I wanted to fix it and make it better,
then
turn it into conversation. A conversation I could laugh in. That didn’t mean I didn’t think I could talk to the girls about stuff that
was hurting me. I can. This just felt different. Private.

All this went through my head, but I didn’t say anything to Ben. He was great to talk to, his eyes so soulful and understanding, but the way he looked at me made me feel ever so slightly like I was under the microscope too.
Silly
, I thought. I gave myself a mental headshake. This was how mature people dated. Meaningful conversation. Getting to know each other.
Before
kissing the night away.

‘Talking with the girls?
We know every one of each other’s darkest secrets
,’ I said in a deep, melodramatic voice, like a narrator for one of those supernaturalist shows.

‘Do you know your family’s darkest secrets?’ asked Ben, pulling me to a stop and smiling at me from under a streetlamp. (Note all the bright and efficient town lighting in this place. Not a single corner for romance anywhere from Albert Drive to Wellington Lane.)

‘They have none,’ I said lightly.

‘Everyone’s got secrets,’ replied Ben, still smiling. ‘I hope you feel you can trust me?’

‘Sure . . .’ I started, but he interrupted by touching his finger to my lips.

My heart stopped.

Literally, folks.

I could NOT breathe.

Then, ‘Can I be really old fashioned?’ he murmured into my ear as we turned the corner of the high street.

‘Old fashioned? You want to walk me home?’ I said hopefully when he lifted his finger, keeping it poised over my mouth.

‘Of course I’m going to walk you home!’ he said.

I grinned and he took my hand, pulling me close. Even though we were both wearing coats, I could feel the heat of him next to me and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get the whole way home without falling down in a faint.

Ben cleared his throat. ‘Tallulah, can I ask you a question?’

‘Yes,’ I answered in a small voice.

‘Can I kiss you?’

We were just coming into Hill Street now, under the tall trees that had dodged the moon on the night I’d been escorted home by Jack. My mouth was dry. I couldn’t answer.

I coughed, then said, ‘A kiss . . . would be . . . nice,’ through a wide smile, and looked up at Ben.

His blue eyes sparkled at me in the moonlight. He laughed and said, ‘Right, I hope there’s a romantic spot on the way to your home.’

‘Just past the crematorium,’ I said decisively.

Ben burst out laughing. ‘Sounds perfect,’ he said drily, and squeezed my hand.

You know what the weird thing was? As we walked along, I felt completely safe. No prickling feeling at the back of my neck that someone was watching. No half-heard footfalls
behind me. No shadows merging with dark trees and hidden corners. I snuck a look at Ben, tall and confident, striding purposefully beside me, and a smile caught the corners of my mouth.
I’d found my knight in shining armour!
I may well be a girl that can kick a lurker in the groin harder than Jackie Chan, but it’s still nice to feel safe around someone.

‘Something funny?’ asked Ben.

‘Uh, just wondering how much further to the crematorium . . .’ My smile crept out into a full-blown grin.
I was flirting!

‘It’s just at the top of the rise.’ Ben squeezed my hand again and smiled back. ‘We’ll need that quiet corner. Unusual amount of traffic tonight.’

I was still smiling when I put on an American accent and said, ‘You come here often?’ wiggling my eyebrows. ‘How come you know all the traffic patterns?’

I was only joking, but he dropped my hand and said quickly, ‘No. I’ve never been here, actually. Just seems busy for Hambledon.’

‘Oh,’ I said. I was still smiling, but must have looked a little uncertain because he kind of shook his head and said, ‘Sorry, sweetie, cramp in my fingers,’ and rubbed them hard.

‘Oh,’ I said again. Right, note to ridiculous self, too important to put in brackets: Do not flirt. Do not joke. This man means business. And I put the alarmed
Sweetie?
He’s calling me sweetie?
thought out of my head.

I wondered how he remembered the crematorium was at the top of the hill if he never came here, but resolved not to ask. It was his turn to make conversation. I watched my feet stepping one in front of the other, reluctant to look up at Ben, and even more reluctant to check the night sky for dead-people smoke coming from the chimneys of Cluny’s Crematorium.

If my first kiss had to have the taste of other people settling in hot ash on my tongue, then so be it. My birthday was tomorrow, dammit. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

‘What the –’ said Ben suddenly, stopping immediately so that I was a few steps ahead of him before I stopped too.

‘What?’ I asked, turning back to look up at his face.

He pointed wordlessly at the sky ahead of us, and I turned to see what he was staring at.

Oh, dear heaven, no. I’d tempted the fates. I had decided on a kissing place and Now Look.

Cluny’s Crematorium was up in flames.