The Things I Know(55)

‘It’s like,’ she began, ‘it’s like looking at the stars, all those blurry dots of light as far as your eye can see, but upside down, like a mirror of the night sky. It’s beautiful.’

‘I’m glad you think so.’

‘Now show me the slice of moon you can see through the window!’ She wriggled out from the bed and stood in the narrow gap of floor between the bed and the wardrobe.

‘Okay.’ He laid his head back on the pillow. ‘You have to tip your head back and close your right eye.’

She jumped back into bed and copied his pose and, sure enough, there in the top corner of the window was a slice of the moon.

‘I see it!’ She kicked her legs against him in excitement. They laughed, remaining still until their breathing had settled. Thomasina shifted until her cheek again lay on his chest. He placed his arm around her and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head.

‘Can I ask you something, Grayson?’

‘Yes, anything.’

‘When I asked if you had been with anyone before and you said yes, who was it, or have there been lots of people?’ She wanted to understand the measure of him, learn the Grayson before they met.

‘Oh!’ He swallowed nervously. ‘Not lots, no. It was only one time, with a girl called Melinda Liebermann. An American intern who was leaving the trading floor at the bank, and we had to go out. Everyone was invited and we all got very drunk. And it was then.’ He shrugged, suggesting at worst disappointment and at best indifference to what clearly should have been a moment of great note. ‘I didn’t see her again after that night. I can’t really remember her face. What . . . what about you?’ he asked nervously.

She answered honestly in spirit with his own directness. ‘I’m telling you because I remember what you said, and I never want to lie to you either. I don’t want anyone knowing something about me that you don’t.’

‘I appreciate that. I’ve always thought that if my parents had been able to talk openly about everything then there might have been a different solution other than him running out on us.’

‘That might be true.’ She drew on all her courage. ‘I had sex with Tarran Buttermore, one of the local farmers. Now, he is an idiot!’ She watched him closely, trying to gauge his reaction.

‘Did you think he was an idiot before you had sex with him?’

She gave an inappropriate snort of laughter, wondering how to explain her simultaneous revulsion and attraction for a boy she knew at an intimate level and yet who was still a stranger in so many ways. ‘I did, yes, but I didn’t care at the time. I just wanted someone to want me . . . and he kind of did for a little while, a few minutes. But not really . . .’ she whispered, thinking of her recent humiliation in the car park.

‘I want you.’

‘You do?’ She kissed his face.

‘I do, and before I couldn’t see how we could make it work, not with things how they are here and you so far away, but then not seeing you . . .’ He shook his head. ‘That’s not going to work either. I hated it.’

‘I hated it too. There are lots of things I want to do, Grayson. I want to see the world, try a new life, and I want to do it with you.’

Grayson leaned forward and kissed her. ‘I’d like that. And as for Tarran, we can’t change or worry about what has gone on before, that would be completely pointless. We are brand new, remember?’

‘We are, Grayson. We are brand new.’



In the morning, as the sun rose over the city, Thomasina reflected on the extraordinary night, quite something in this very ordinary room in which seemingly nothing out of the ordinary ever happened. Grayson hummed a tune of his own composition.

‘I don’t know how many thousands of nights I’ve spent in this room, but I know I’ll always remember this one. Will you be okay while I go and shower?’

‘Yes,’ she said, nodding, his concern touching.

He took his time in the shower, and she sat listening to him sing, unable to wipe the happy smile from her face and yet equally anxious about the next hour or so of her life, when she would again have to face his mum, whom she could hear rattling around in the kitchen. Her skin was suddenly covered in goose bumps and she shivered at the prospect of coming face to face with the sober version of his mother. Thomasina sat on the bed and took deep breaths, consoling herself with the thought that, when drunk, the woman lost her filter and was more than a little mean, but this morning she was probably regretting last night’s outburst and might be all sweetness and light to compensate. Thomasina certainly hoped so, feeling a sudden flash of homesickness for the cosy kitchen table in front of the range and the feel of Buddy’s muzzle against her cheek in greeting.

The door opened and in walked Grayson, newly shaven with wet hair, and apart from his long fringe hanging down to the tip of his nose, he looked smart in his freshly ironed shirt and trousers.

‘Breakfast is on the table!’ she heard his mum call.

Thomasina leaned back against the headboard with her knees up and her arms clasping her shins. It was the first time he’d seen her in daylight in a state of undress and with her hair all messy. He sat on the edge of the bed and gathered a section of it, running his fingers over the ends as if fascinated by the cascade of hair that spilled over her shoulder. ‘It’s not one colour, but a thousand shades of brown and, where the light catches it, it’s almost gold.’