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.I kept walking.‘Jump in,’ said the voice.‘I’ll give you a lift.’Silver-spoke wheels, black soft-top.Four o’clock in the afternoon and freezing.‘I’m on my way to your place.Amanda wants the tray.’‘The tray?’‘The lunch things.’‘Ah.Fancy a drive?’What a wild idea.Hopping into someone’s car and leaving Brightley.The kiss.I remembered the kiss.‘I prefer not to be dismembered.’‘Hop in.I’ll take you for a spin.Then I will dismember you in the privacy of my own house.’He was a lot friendlier in his car than he had been in his house.He was wearing black leather driving gloves so he wouldn’t leave any fingerprints on my body after he’d killed me.There wasn’t much room in the front.I eased my legs out as far as I could.Seatbelt a long way behind me.He held out one hand and I shook it.‘The official New Year greeting,’ he said.‘Hello then, officially.’‘Right then,’ he said.He was perfectly at ease with me in the front of his car.Used to it, picks up girls all the time, kills them before he paints.The car sped off and I sat there, feeling the engine throbbing under me.He glanced at me, and drove faster than anyone I knew.My head was going to fall off.We roared down the lane.Maybe Mum heard the sound of the engine and had no idea her daughter was sitting in that noisy little car.Perhaps Algernon Keats was watching from my bedroom window.Would he see me if I waved?Soon we were on the main road heading to Hartley, leaving Brightley behind.‘Let’s see what this baby can do,’ he yelled.‘Okay!’He was driving at a speed that could kill me and I didn’t really care at all.Faster and faster, the road hurtling away under the wheels.I felt untouchable, one point heading towards another.My mind flew in every direction.It was exhilarating.The muscles in the side of his face tightened.We passed car after car, his foot on the throttle, wheels spinning, car singing low in its throat.‘Fancy a drink?’ he said.‘You’ve got time for one now.’‘I haven’t had lunch yet.’‘I’ll buy you dinner then.’The pub was called the Red Lion and had a jukebox in the corner and an empty bar.‘Dinner’s not until six,’ said the barman.‘Wine and crisps will have to do then,’ said Alex March.I felt light-headed from the drive.He put his arm around my shoulders.I liked the feel of it, the weight of it.I thought I was going to shrug it off but I didn’t.Meat and Two Veg‘Can you please tidy this wardrobe? It is a complete and utter mess, Rebecca.And can’t you find something nicer to wear than that?’ Mum knew she would be waiting a long time for an answer, a prelude to all kinds of arguments, none of them winnable.‘I’ll stay and tidy it now.Please, Mum, I really don’t want to go.Tell them I’m sick.’ Please, Mama.‘Not tonight.I promised your father.I’m going with him to the parish council meeting.’‘Exciting.’‘You have no idea what they’re like.’‘Flora’s all right.’‘Flora Shillingham is all right, but there are others who have lived here a long time and are used to getting their own way.They like things to be exactly the way they want them.Which isn’t always what your father wants.Now go and enjoy your dinner.’I walked under my father’s large black umbrella in the pouring rain.Walk walk walk.‘D’yew remember January 1974? The weather was foul, one of the worst nights any of us could ever remember? Wasn’t it wasn’t it Rebecca?A battered mud-spattered Land Rover stood in the driveway.There was a soggy cardboard box by the front door with empty wine bottles in it.The box was falling apart in the rain.I wanted to run back down the drive and keep running.Perhaps girlie, you vould like to be plugged in, ve always plug ourselves in on Friday nights.See vot it has dun for me.And Sebastian’s standing there in a lab coat with a scar down his face and a smile saying I am so glad you could come, meine liebchen, although why he would be talking with a German accent and not his usual deep treacly voice, I wasn’t too sure.The front door opened.I recognised the blonde woman immediately.‘I’m so glad you could come, Rebecca,’ said Mrs Sophie Rutherford.I knew at once that this was an entirely different house to ours.I was used to shrieks, shouts, arguments, shelves full of yummy things.I was used to the slamming of doors, the sisterly exchange of clothes, shoes and books, and my mother in between us all, keeping us apart, bringing us together.I was used to my father striding through the house looking for someone to tease.(My mother, usually, as she was the only one who laughed at his jokes.)‘Please do call me Sophie, Rebecca.’I was unprepared for such informality.Mr Rutherford appeared behind his wife, trying to find the front of his head with his fingers and pull some more hair over it.I was racking my brain for a sudden excuse to leave and get home to the safety of shepherd’s pie and apple strudel and custard when several things happened at once.A car roared up the driveway and its headlights shone through the front windows.A car door slammed.Another car door slammed.The house yawned and woke up.Someone was shouting, ‘Get off me, GETTT OFFF.’Mrs Rutherford opened the door with Mr Rutherford loitering behind her with a kind of oh yes, we were expecting this on their faces.A black leather jacket appeared holding a bundle of blue-eyed bad temper.A pair of girl’s legs kicked violently over Alex March’s leather-clad shoulder.He set the legs down in the hallway where we stood and the rest of the body followed.‘I do believe we’ve met,’ he said to me.‘Hi.’There was he was again.Lucy Rutherford shook herself free from her captor, shoved him in the chest, ignored both her parents and walked straight past me and up the stairs.‘Why did you make me come here?’ She yelled this at Alex March as if her parents had nothing to do with the house.‘Drink anyone?’ asked Mr Rutherford.‘So sorry,’ said Mrs Rutherford.‘Lucy, please come and say hello.’Alex March said loudly, so all of Brightley could hear, ‘Rude.Little.Cow.’Mrs Rutherford said, ‘I’ll just go and get her and then we’ll eat.She’s been looking forward to meeting you properly, Rebecca.’I doubted that.Mrs Rutherford seemed to be trying to explain her daughter through her smile.The corners of her mouth turned up.She disappeared up the stairs.Alex March reappeared minus his jacket.Different family, different rules.More and more I understood less and less.‘Hi there, again,’ he said in that smooth way he had of lowering his voice to invite me in.‘If you’re wondering why I’m here—’ he touched the edge of my jacket collar with his fingers ‘this is my sister’s house.’ I remembered the weight of his arm on my shoulders.‘And that,’ he pointed upstairs, ‘is my niece, Lucy No-Manners Rutherford.’He turned to Sebastian, who stood in the hallway cradling his drink with a doleful expression on his face.‘Look, I can come another night if it’s more convenient,’ I said.I insist.I insist on leaving now.‘Absolutely not.Won’t hear of it.Come through.’‘What’s for dinner, Sophie?’ asked Alex.Mrs Rutherford—Sophie—was back downstairs, smoothing her cardigan sleeves and looking distracted.‘Spag bol.I thought the girls would like it.’‘Lovely,’ said Alex, striding into the kitchen as if he owned it, which he probably did.As we sat there eating Sophie Rutherford twirled her spaghetti half-heartedly round her fork.‘Do your sisters like it here?’ she asked.‘I think so,’ I said.‘I wonder what it would be like to live here all the time
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