Forbidden

‘Why?’ I ask, gasping in delight. ‘How come? What happened? What changed?’

‘I’d been thinking about – about what you said, that I should take one step at a time and that, well, mainly that you thought I could do it.’

‘What was it like?’ I ask, struggling to keep my voice a whisper, looking into eyes that, even in the half-light, sparkle with a gentle triumph.

‘Horrible.’

‘Oh, Loch!’

‘My hands were trembling and my voice was shaking and the words on the page suddenly turned into this mass of hieroglyphics, but somehow I got through it. And when I finished there were some people – and not just the girls – who actually clapped.’ He lets out a short exclamation of surprise.

‘Well, of course they did! Your essays are completely amazing!’ I reply.

‘There was also this guy – a guy called Tyrese who’s OK – and he came up to me after the bell and said something about the essay. I don’t know what exactly, because I was still deafened by terror’ – he laughs – ‘but it must have been vaguely complimentary because he slapped me on the back.’

‘See?’ I crow softly. ‘They were inspired by your essay! No wonder your teacher was so keen for you to read one out. Did you say anything back to Tyrese?’

‘I think I said something along the lines of oh-umyeah-uh-cheers.’ Lochan lets out a derisive snort.

I laugh. ‘That’s great! And next time you’ll actually say something a little more coherent!’

Lochan smiles and turns on his side, propping his head up on his hand. ‘You know, recently, even when we’re apart, I sometimes think that maybe I’m going to beat this thing, that one day I might be normal.’

I kiss his nose. ‘You are normal, silly.’

He doesn’t respond but begins pensively rubbing a strand of my hair between his fingers. ‘Sometimes I wonder . . .’ He tails off abruptly, suddenly examining my hair in great detail.

‘Sometimes you wonder . . . ?’ I tilt my head and kiss the corner of his mouth.

‘What – what I’d do without you,’ he finishes in a whisper, gaze studiously avoiding mine.

‘Go to sleep at a reasonable time, in a bed where you can actually roll over without falling out . . .’

He laughs softly into the night. ‘Oh yeah, an easier life in so many ways. Mum should never have got pregnant again so quickly after me . . .’

His joke tails off uncomfortably and the laughter is sucked up into the darkness as the truth behind his words sinks in.

After a long silence Lochan suddenly says, ‘She certainly wasn’t meant to have children, but, well, not that I really believe in fate or anything – but what if we were meant to have each other?’

I don’t respond immediately, not quite sure what he’s getting at.

‘I guess what I’m trying to say is that maybe what seemed like a shitty situation for a bunch of abandoned kids actually, because of the way it happened, led to something really special.’

I think about this for a moment. ‘Do you think, if we’d had conventional parents, or just parents, you and I would have fallen in love?’

Silence from him now. Moonlight illuminates the side of his face, a silvery-white glow washing across one half, leaving the other in shadow. He has that distant look in his eyes which either means that his mind is on something else, or that he’s giving my tentative question some very serious consideration.

‘I’ve often wondered . . .’ he begins quietly. I wait for him to continue. ‘Many people claim that the abused often go on to abuse, so for most psychologists, our mother’s neglect – which is considered a form of abuse – would be linked directly to our “abnormal” behaviour, which they would interpret as abuse too.’

‘Abuse?’ I exclaim in astonishment. ‘But who would be abusing who? In abuse, there’s an attacker and a victim. How could we be seen as both abusers and abusees?’

The blue-white glow of the moon casts just enough light for me to notice Lochan’s expression turn from pensive to troubled.

‘Maya, come on, think about it. I’d be automatically seen as the abuser and you the victim.’

‘Why?’

‘How many cases of younger sisters sexually abusing older brothers have you read about? Come to think of it, how many female rapists and female paedophiles are there?’

‘But that’s crazy!’ I exclaim. ‘I could have been the one to force you into a sexual relationship! Not physically, but by – I du

Lochan nods slowly, his shaggy hair dark against the pillow. ‘Unless there was some really strong evidence to the contrary – an admission of guilt on your part, witnesses or something – then, yes.’

‘But that’s so sexist, so unfair!’

‘I agree, but people rely heavily on generalizations, and although it must sometimes happen the other way round, it’s gotta be pretty rare. For a start, there’s the physical aspect . . . So it’s not really all that surprising that in situations like this, guys are automatically assumed to be the abusers, especially if they’re older.’

I curl my legs up against Lochan’s stomach and ruminate on this for a while. It all seems so wrong. But at the same time I’m aware that I’m guilty of the same prejudices – if I hear there’s been a rape, or a child’s been abducted, I immediately think male rapist, male paedophile.

‘But what about if no one’s being abused?’ I ask suddenly. ‘What if it’s one hundred percent consensual, like us?’

He exhales slowly. ‘I don’t know. It would still be against the law. It’s still incest. But there’s not much info on it, because apparently it’s something that very, very rarely happens . . .’

We both stop talking for a while. So long, in fact, that I begin to think Lochie has fallen asleep. But when I turn my head on the pillow to check, I see his eyes are wide open, staring up at the ceiling, bright and intense.

‘Lochie . . .’ I roll onto my side and run my fingers down his bare arm. ‘When you said there’s not much info on it, what did you mean? How do you know?’

He is chewing his lip again. Beside me, his body feels tense. He hesitates for a moment, then rolls back over to face me. ‘I – I did a bit of research on the Internet . . . I just – I just . . .’ He takes a deep breath before trying again. ‘I just wanted to know where we stood.’

‘With what?’

‘With – with the law.’

‘To figure out a way of changing our names? Of living together?’

He rubs his lip, refusing to meet my gaze, looking increasingly agitated and uncomfortable.

‘What?’ I demand loudly, frightened now. ‘To see what would happen if we got caught.’

‘Caught living together?’ I ask incredulously.

‘Caught – caught having a relationship—’

‘Having sex?’

‘Yes.’

‘By who?’

‘The police.’

I am finding it difficult to breathe suddenly, as if my windpipe is constricting. I sit up abruptly, hair falling down around my face.

‘Look, Maya. It’s not – I just wanted to check . . .’ Lochan is pulling himself up against the headboard, struggling to find words to reassure me.

‘Does that mean we can never—?’

‘No, no, not necessarily,’ he says quickly. ‘It just means that we can’t until the kids are grown up and safe, and even then we have to be very, very careful.’

‘I knew it was officially illegal,’ I tell him desperately. ‘But pot’s illegal, so is speeding, so is peeing in a public place. Anyway, how would the police even notice and why would they even care – it’s not like we’re hurting anyone or even ourselves!’ I feel like I’m ru