Jenny Downham - You Against Me

He said, ‘It’s probably some religious nut, or someone selling dusters. Don’t open it and they’ll go away.’ He looked over at Ellie. She stared at her shoes and pretended not to be listening. How long was he going to give them? She had all day. All night too, in fact.

He said, ‘Well, I expect she’ll come out when she gets hungry and at least you get to choose what’s on TV. Listen, I’ll call you later. I can’t think about this now.’ He ended the call, rolled his eyes. ‘Sisters.’

Well, that was good. Not a girlfriend at least. ‘How many have you got?’

He stuffed the phone back into his pocket and looked around. He didn’t answer. He appeared not to have heard.

She stood up suddenly. ‘You want to do something?’

‘Like what?’

‘I know a place we could go.’

She didn’t wait for a reply, just walked away from him and headed down the slope. She didn’t even turn to see if he was following. The grass was longer here and smelled damp from the river. It was as if the boundaries of the town got smudged and everything became wilder.

He jogged up behind her. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Trust me.’

She didn’t know why she’d said that, but it sounded cool, as if she knew exactly what would happen next. She felt as if she’d been given a break from the real her – as if she could reinvent herself with this boy, say anything, be anyone.

She led him up a track, towards a cluster of oaks and beeches. They grew close together, their branches cutting the sky. The path became tangled and thin.

‘Are you sure about this?’ he said.

‘Through here.’

She picked a daffodil and twirled it. She picked another and threaded it in her hair. A bird flew from a branch and startled her. She watched it flap away until it disappeared against the pale sky, her breath coming quick and shallow.

The spaces between the trees began to stretch. Sunshine danced again through the branches. The mud path turned to grass as they came out of shadow and into a glade that sloped gently down to the river. On the other side were fields and above them a faultless sky.

‘Is this it?’ he said.

‘Yeah.’

She sat on the grass and looked down at the river. He sat next to her. She wondered if he was disappointed, if he’d been expecting a fairground or something.

‘I didn’t even know you could get to the river this way,’ he said. ‘It’s pretty.’

It was. And it was slightly warmer away from the trees. Sitting here with him reminded her of the night of the party, looking across the train track together. She wondered if he was thinking that too, but she didn’t ask him in case he said no.

‘I used to come here a lot,’ she said, ‘when we first moved from London.’

‘You used to live in London? My mum’s from there.’ He blinked at her as if he couldn’t believe it. ‘Why would you ever move?’

‘My gran and granddad lived round here and they got sick. My mum wanted to be closer to them and the timing suited my dad. He works in property and house prices in London were sky-high, so he sold our house, changed jobs, then bought a house twice as big here when the prices fell. He often does stuff like that. I can never work out if it’s clever or not.’

‘Sounds pretty clever to me.’

‘We had to leave all our friends behind and then my granddad died as soon as we got here and my gran freaked out and had to go into a nursing home. It all seemed a waste of time after that. My dad was the only happy one.’

There was something solid about the way he listened to her. It encouraged her to ask the question that had been troubling her for days.

‘Why did you knock on the door and pretend to know my brother?’

It seemed to surprise him, because he actually blushed. ‘What makes you think I was pretending?’

She laughed. ‘Something to do with you not recognizing each other?’

He pulled up a handful of grass and chucked it towards the river as if he wanted to feed the water. He pulled up another handful and laid it next to him. ‘I don’t know him, you’re right, but there was a rumour going round that he was having a party and I wanted to blag an invite, that’s all.’

She was relieved. It was such a simple answer. If he was lying, surely he’d think of something more complicated.

‘I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I thought it was funny. But you do realize I don’t even know your name?’

Again, he blushed.

‘Is it Rumpelstiltskin?’

‘What?’

‘From the story. You know, the one about that little bloke who gets the queen to guess his name?’

He shook his head – obviously didn’t know what she was talking about. She felt foolish suddenly. Other girls didn’t talk about this crap. She should have kept her mouth shut.

She took off her shoes and wiggled her toes on the grass, but stopped when she saw he was looking at her and covered them with her hands. She thought of Stacey and her mate, of all the girls at school, who if they saw her now would be amazed that she’d walked out and texted a boy and brought him to her secret place. It made her feel strong thinking of them.

She took off her coat and flung it on the grass, stood up, unzipped her skirt and let it fall to her feet.

‘What are you doing?’ he said quietly.

‘Taking off my clothes.’

‘Why are you doing that?’

She took off her cardigan and tights, but left her underwear and shirt on. She tried not to think about her fat thighs, but was really glad she’d shaved her legs the night before.

She turned to him. ‘You fancy a swim?’

He looked astonished. ‘In the river?’

‘Why not?’

‘It’ll be freezing!’

‘Are you scared?’

‘No, I just haven’t got swimming stuff.’

She waved a hand at herself. ‘Neither have I.’

He frowned, pulled his jeans down an inch, as if he was checking to see if, by a miracle, he had swimming trunks on. She saw the top of his boxer shorts. There was very fine hair at the bottom of his belly, gathering to shadow. He caught her looking, and to stop herself blushing, she said, ‘I dare you.’

He stared back at her for a moment, and then he laughed.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘If you’re going to dare me.’

He kicked off his trainers, pulled off his jacket and unbuckled his jeans. Ellie couldn’t look, didn’t want to melt. She turned away and walked down the slope towards the water. The grass ran out near the edge, turned to mud pocked with gravel. It sucked at her toes.

She doubted herself now. She’d done this loads of times before, but it looked dark in the water today and so murky that anything could be hiding. There were weeds at the edge and rushes gripping the side of the bank. But she couldn’t show him she was afraid. She needed to keep being interesting to hold his attention.

She didn’t even look as she jumped. She knew if she did, she wouldn’t be able to do it. Instead, she screwed her eyes shut and leaped into the air. The cold shock of the water was crazy. It was like falling from a plane, plummeting somewhere so alien-cold that ice might gather on her outstretched arms.

‘What’s it like?’ he called. He was hugging himself on the riverbank. He looked old-fashioned standing there in his underwear.

She couldn’t answer. She had to keep moving it was so cold. She swam breast stroke to the opposite bank, then front crawl on the turn. She loved that feeling – swimming without thinking, celebrating the water like she owned it. She enjoyed the rhythm and discipline of it. When she’d been a member of the swimming club, she’d swum forty lengths every morning and come out feeling brain-washed, clean, alert.

‘Coming in,’ he shouted. He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. It made her smile. She recognized that male bravado from Tom, convincing yourself at the same time as you convinced everyone else. Her dad did it with maps.