Forbidden

‘This is where I come when things get too much at home. When I want to be alone for a while,’ I tell him.

He looks at me in astonishment. ‘You come here by yourself?’ He blinks in bewilderment, hands dug deep into his jacket pockets, still gazing around. ‘Why?’

‘Because when Mum starts drinking at ten o’clock in the morning, when Tiffin and Willa are tearing around the house screaming, when Kit is trying to pick a row with everyone who crosses his path, when I wish I didn’t have a family to look after, this place gives me peace. It gives me hope. In summer it’s lovely here. It silences the roar that’s constantly in my head . . .

‘Maybe, from time to time, this could be your place too,’ I suggest quietly. ‘Everyone needs time off, Lochan. Even you.’

He nods again, still looking around, as if trying to imagine me here by myself. Then he turns back to me, the collar of his black jacket flapping against his untucked white shirt, tie loosened, the bottoms of his grey trousers muddied by the soft earth. His cheeks are pink from the long cold walk, hair tousled by the wind. However, we are sheltered here, the sun warm on our faces. A sudden flurry of birds alight on the topmost branch of a tree, and as he raises his head, the light is reflected in his eyes, turning them translucent, the colour of green glass.

His gaze meets mine. ‘Thanks,’ he says.

We sit down in my grassy enclave and huddle together for warmth. Lochan wraps his arm around me and pulls me towards him, kissing the top of my head.

‘I love you, Maya Whitely,’ he says softly.

I smile and tilt my face to look up at him. ‘How much?’

He doesn’t answer, but I hear his breathing quicken: he lowers his mouth over mine and a strange hum fills the air.

We kiss for a long time, sliding our hands in between layers of clothing and absorbing each other’s heat until I am warm, hot even, my heart thumping hard, a sparkling, tingling feeling rushing through my veins. Birds continue to peck at the earth around us, somewhere in the distance a child’s whoop breaks the air. Here, we are truly alone. Truly free. If anyone happened to walk by, all they would see is a girl and her boyfriend kissing. I feel the pressure of Lochan’s lips strengthen as if he too realizes how priceless this little moment of freedom is. His hand slides beneath my school shirt and I press my hand up against his thigh.

Then, abruptly, he is pulling back, turning away, breathing hard. I look round in surprise, but only the trees surround us like silent witnesses, unchanged and unmoved and undisturbed. Beside me, Lochan sits with arms circling his drawn-up knees, face turned away. ‘Sorry . . .’ He gives a small, embarrassed laugh.

‘About what?’

His breathing is fast and shallow. ‘I needed to stop.’

Something tightens in my throat. ‘But that’s fine, Lochie. You don’t have to apologize.’

He doesn’t respond. There is something about his stillness that disturbs me.

I move over so that I’m pressed close to him and give him a gentle nudge. ‘Shall we go for a wander?’

He tilts away from me slightly. Raises a shoulder without turning. Doesn’t reply.

‘You OK?’ I ask lightly.

He gives a brief nod.

A flutter of worry rises in my chest. I stroke the back of his head. ‘You sure?’

No reply.

‘Perhaps we should set up camp here, away from the rest of the world,’ I tease, but he doesn’t respond. ‘I just thought it would be nice to have some time alone, just the two of us,’ I say softly. ‘Was it – was coming here a mistake?’

‘No!’

I cover his hand with mine and stroke the back of it with my thumb. ‘What then?’

‘Just—’ His voice quavers. ‘I’m afraid that all this will one day be nothing more than a distant memory.’

I swallow hard. ‘Don’t say that, Lochie. It doesn’t have to be.’

‘But us – this – it won’t last. It won’t, Maya, we both know that. At some point we’ll have to stop—’ He breaks off suddenly and holds his breath, shaking his head wordlessly.

‘Lochie, of course it’s going to last!’ I exclaim, aghast. ‘They can’t stop us. I won’t let anyone stop us . . .’

He takes my hand in his, starts to kiss it, his lips soft and warm. ‘But it’s the whole world,’ he says, his voice an anguished whisper. ‘How – how can we make it against the whole world?’

I want Lochan to say he’ll find a way. I need him to say we’ll both find a way. Together we’ll manage it. Together we’re so strong. Together we brought up a whole family.

‘People can’t separate us!’ I begin angrily. ‘They can’t, they can’t! Can they . . . ?’ And suddenly I realize I’ve no idea. However careful we are, there is always the chance we could get caught. Just as, however much we cover up for Mum, the threat of someone finding out and alerting the authorities gets stronger every day. We have to be so careful; everything has to be hidden, kept secret. One slip-up and the whole family could collapse like a house of cards. One slip-up and we could all be torn apart . . . Lochan’s defeatist attitude terrifies me. It’s as if he knows something I don’t. ‘Lochie, tell me we can stay together!’

He reaches out for me and I crumple against him with a sob. Wrapping his arms around me, he holds me tight. ‘I’ll do everything,’ he whispers into my hair. ‘I give you my word. I’ll do everything I can, Maya. We’ll find a way to stay together. I’ll figure it out, I will. OK?’

I look up at him and he blinks back tears, giving me a bright, reassuring, hopeful smile.

I nod, smiling in return. ‘Together we’re strong,’ I reply, my voice bolder than I feel.

He closes his eyes for a moment, as if in pain, then opens them again and lifts my face from his chest, kissing me gently. We hold each other tightly for a long, long time, warming each other, until the sun gradually begins to dip in the sky.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Lochan

In the mornings I shower with the speed of lightning, throw on my clothes, and as soon as I’ve got Tiffin and Willa settled at the breakfast table I run back upstairs with the excuse of a forgotten blazer or watch or book to join Maya, who has the unenviable task of trying to get Kit out of bed in the mornings. She’s usually tying back her hair or buttoning her shirt cuffs or stuffing books into her bag, her bedroom door ajar, and pops out sporadically to shout up at Kit to hurry; but she stops when she sees me and, with a look of nervous excitement, takes my outstretched hand. My heart pounding in anticipation, we shut ourselves in my bedroom. With only a few precious minutes to spare, my foot pressed firmly against the bottom corner of the door, one hand gripping the handle, I pull her gently towards me. Her eyes light up with a smile, hands either reaching for my face, my hair, or sometimes even pressing up against my chest, fingertips scraping against the thin fabric of my shirt. We kiss shyly at first, half afraid. I can taste whether she has used Colgate or just grabbed the pink kiddie stuff while supervising brushing to save time.

It always gives me a jolt, that moment when our lips first meet, and I have to remind myself to breathe. Her lips are soft and warm and smooth; mine feel harsh and rough against them. At the sound of Kit’s slow, dragging footsteps just the other side of the thin wall, Maya tries to pull back. However, as soon as the bathroom door slams, she gives in and slides round so her back is pushed up against the door. I dig my nails into the wood on either side of her head in an attempt to keep my hands under control as our kisses grow increasingly frantic; the longing inside me quells any fear of being caught as I feel the last precious seconds of ecstasy run through my fingers like sand. A shout from downstairs, the sound of Kit re-emerging from the bathroom, feet pounding up the stairs – all signals that our time is up – and Maya pushes me firmly back, her cheeks aglow, mouth stained red with the flush of unfinished kisses. We stare at each other, our hot panting filling the air, but as I press in towards her again, my eyes begging for just one more second, she closes her eyes with a look of pain and turns her head away. She is usually the first to leave the bedroom, striding into the vacated bathroom to splash water on her face while I cross over to my bedroom window and throw it open, clutching at the edge of the sill and sucking in great lungfuls of cold air.