“Okay, one question: do you love your room?”
She looked up at him, surveyed his face, but he was just
staring back at her waiting for an answer, arms folded on the pillow and he
rested his chin on them. He wasn’t giving anything away in the context of the
question.
“Um, why?” She asked.
“Just because.”
“Because what?”
He gave a subtle glance to his surroundings, then looked
back at her. “It’s really different to Becky’s, you know.”
“Yes, I do know that.”
“So- who’s do you love more: yours or Becky’s?”
Elisabeth laughed. “Am I really going to say I love
Becky’s room more than my own?!”
Paul shrugged. “Dunno. Has a double bed…” He trailed off
cheekily, and Elisabeth just glared at him.
“I’m fine in here, thankyou very much.”
“So how come when you moved in she got the bigger room?”
He asked, sitting up a little and holding onto the pillow whilst he drummed his
feet away on the bed. Elisabeth swore that he must be secretly about five years
old.
“Well she wanted it, and I didn’t,” Elisabeth said
matter-o-factly.
“Why not?”
‘I didn’t think I needed it.” She blushed. ‘Besides- I
like smaller spaces, anyway.”
He raised his eyebrow at her. “Oh- you do, do ya?”
“Paul!” She scolded him, and he laughed.
“Okay, okay! I wasn’t being rude.”
“You’re always being rude, Paul!”
“Hey!” He protested. “Since when?!”
“Since you walked into this room!” Elisabeth giggled.
Which was perfectly true, of course. He’d come into the
room and immediately took it as his: nosing around through all of her stuff,
asking questions, wanting to leaf through her wardrobe (she’d told him to go
take a hike), then moaned at her because the PC had no ‘playstation’ (?!!) and
then finally threw his shoes off and took up residence on her bed.
That’s why he was now lying on his stomach, leaning on her
pillow and generally being annoying and she, who owned the room, was sat
on the floor.
“I think I’ve been very well-behaved today,” Paul said to
her, distracted by looking around her room.
“Then I don’t want to know what you’re like on other
days!”
He laughed. “Noooo.”
“So don’t you like my room, then?” She asked him, curious
to know.
“Well, I wouldn’t live here personally. It’s too pink,” he
stated.
Elisabeth grinned. “And I thought that was your colour.”
He looked at her, playing along. “Oh no- I’d say I’m
generally more of a purple person.”
“Uhhhh!” Elisabeth made a sarcastic face at him and he
just replied by pulling one at her, and she laughed.
“You’re so stupid!”
“Well thankyou.”
“I can’t believe you’re 27.”
“Shut up about my age!” He laughed. “I wish I’d never said
now! Just go back to thinking how old I was before.”
“What- 30?”
He gave her a look; raising half of his eyebrow- Elisabeth
had no idea how he did it, but he did! “Oh, so now look who’s king-a-the-wit.”
‘I’m only joking,” she replied, smiling. “I thought you
were about the same age as me, that’s all,” she looked away at the floor.
“I was 3 years go.”
“Unbelievable.”
He laughed at her, and looked at her, even though she
couldn’t see. “I’ll never grow up, anyway.”
He leaned over and ruffled her hair, which made her look
up again. “You have nice hair,” he commented freely.
Elisabeth caught his eyes and blushed. Her hair was one of
her favourite things, so when people flattered her about it, she was so proud
inside.
“Thankyou.”
“It’s all different blondes,” he mused, picking a tress up
randomly and examining it. Elisabeth seemed very confused he was so fascinated
with his hair, and it felt weird him touching it.
“You sure you’re not Norwegian, or something?”
“No!” she laughed and playfully hit him on the arm.
“Hmmm, I’d love to be blond again,” he said dreamily.
Elisabeth coughed a choke out. “Ahem… pardon?!!”
He grinned at her and sat up. “I was blond this time last
year, I think.”
“You were blond?!”
“Yup, I bleached my hair. I was bored of my frosted bits,
you see. So went for the full rinse. And then after that I went all grey-y
blue-y. Great fun! But now I’m normal again.”
He sat up cross-legged on her bed above her head and
started running his fingers through and pulling at bits of her hair playfully.
But Elisabeth thought she was hearing things. Paul was a
peroxide boy? No way!! She couldn’t imagine him doing anything with his hair!
“You were really blond?”
He laughed. “Is it so hard to believe that a crazy guy
like me would dye my hair?!”
“Er… yes!”
He laughed, and started parting her hair into little
strands. Elisabeth felt herself buzzing when he did that; his fingers were so
soft going through her hair.
“I’ve had a red mohican before then. And a silver one. I
love doing stupid things with my hair! I shaved it in November, but it’s all
grown back now.”
“You don’t seem the type to do that at all!” Elisabeth
laughed, trying to imagine all these haircuts! “Was it for a1?”
“Nah, not really. Just me being completely crazy.” He
paused and leant down to her face. “Can I plait your hair?”
“Pardon?!” She looked up at him, amazed.
He grinned. “I want to plait your hair!” He sat up again.
“I love your hair, it’s wicked.”
“Paul- are you supposed to be playing the girly best mate
or something?!” She laughed at him, wondering if he had just stepped too far
into his feminine side.
“Oooh yay- let’s do makeovers!” He said in a phony
accident and Elisabeth laughed.
She was beginning to realise how much fun he was to be
around. Except he still puzzled her, and he freaked her out when he got too
close and serious… too close and serious?! What did that mean?!
“So, I think we should get you down to the hairdressers
for a serious perm young lady!” Paul carried on in the now fake American
teenage girl accent. “And soooo do your nails! And then after that, we’ll go
shopping at the ma-hall!”
“Paul!” She laughed.
“Yes girlfrennnnd?”
“Shut uppp!” She laughed.
“Okay, okay, sorry,” he laughed, carrying on with his
plaiting until he was finished, and then he took the two plaits and started
waving them around.
‘Look- you’re Heidi!!”
“Paul- stop it!” She scolded, reaching up, and pulling her
hair back down. “I don’t want to be Heidi, thanks very much!”
“My last girlfriend was called Heidi,” Paul abruptly said,
letting go of her, and trying to regain his position on her bed again.
Elisabeth sat unravelling the plaits, but felt stunned
when he said that. A million thoughts ran through her head at once, colliding
like heated up molecules in a boring chemistry lesson; she felt herself tingle
and go hot all over.
Was Paul talking to her about past girlfriends?!
It had never been something she’d thought about before.
Paul having a girlfriend. Maybe he did! Who knows. She wanted to know.
Now he’d brought the topic up she was going to manipulate it.
“Was she?”
“Ahuh, she was blonde like you.”
Okay, another thing: why did he keep saying his last
girlfriend was like her?
“Swiss?”
he hit her on the head lightly. “Noooo! Swedish, actually,
I picked her uu… I mean, we met in Stockholm.”
Elisabeth gave him a look when he said that- it sounded
awfully seedy.
“So how long were you together?”
“A while. 6 months? 8?”
“Cool.” Wow, Elisabeth thought, it was so hard
to imagine Paul in a long term relationship!
“We didn’t see each other enough, though- what with a1 and
she was a model…”
Oh, how contraire.
“… plus the age gap was a bit… well, iffy sometimes.
Anyway, we’re still good friends, so that’s okay.”
“Age gap?” Elisabeth questioned, intrigued.
“Um, yeah,” Paul blushed. “She was a lot younger than I
was…”
“Tell me!” Elisabeth said, fascinated and sitting up.
“No, you’ll think I’m some kind of pervert!”
“Nooo, I won’t!” Unless she’s 16.
“Yeah, ya will. Think everyone did. She was 17 when I met
her, 18 a lot of the time we were going out.”
Elisabeth didn’t know how to reply to that. Her eyes did
though; they widened in shock.
“Seeeee!” Paul laughed at her. “Everyone thought it was
wrong, but it wasn’t. She is such a lovely girl. She’s at Uni over here
now, so I look after her a lot. She’s my ickle baby.”
“Awww.” Elisabeth couldn’t help it- it was just so cute
the way he spoke about her, with such care and compassion- they’d been happy
and didn’t care what everyone else thought- that’s the impression she got from
Paul. Awwww.
“So when did you break up?”
He made a face. “January. Few weeks after New Year.
Was a mutual thing, anyway. Like I said, we’re great mates and I check up on
her lots at University- she’s doing a fashion degree.”
“So you’re single now?”
‘Prrrretty much,” he said.
“Hmmm… so that your longest relationship?” Now a door had
been opened into his past, she wanted to keep delving and delving until she was
completely inside and she knew every little last fact about Paul Marazzi. But
maybe she unintentionally dipped too far this time.
“No.”
“No? You had longer?”
Paul started to look uncomfortable. “Yeah,” he muttered.
But Elisabeth didn’t take heed of the signs, she just
pelted full ahead. “Really?! When?”
“Um, a while ago.”
“Wow- so how long ago did that go on, then? What was her
name?!”
Paul looked away from her, so she couldn’t see the pain in
his eyes- she had no idea how hard it was for him until he said it.
“Clara- and we were engaged.”
She turned right around to look at him then, completely
knocked over by that comment- and when she saw him she realised she’s made a big
mistake in bringing that topic up. But all the emotions that had just been
brought out in her spilled over and made her speak.
“Really?!”
He nodded.
“Oh my God! When was this?!”
“I was engaged when I was 22.”
She couldn’t believe this! This was surreal: Paul was
going to be married. Once upon a time…
She breathed in; it all sounded like some dramatic tale-
he clearly wasn’t engaged now, was he? So what had happened?
“Wow… I had no idea!” She exclaimed aloud. “So what
happened?”
That had been the wrong question to ask. In fact, bringing
this up, wanting to know any details about this incident at all should have
ceased ages ago.
“I really don’t wanna talk about it,” he said to her; with
a slight edge in his voice- not of anger, but a kind of definite firmness that
he wasn’t going to tell. “It was a long time ago, and it went wrong.”
The defeatedness in his voice really got to Elisabeth. He
sounded so sad: not something he wanted to remember at all, obviously.
It sounded like one of those deep, hurtful memories you know you can’t learn
from because they’re too difficult, so you push them deep down in the hope that
they’ll fade away with time, and then all the time knowing that they never,
ever will.
“I’m sorry,” she said meaningfully.
“S’ok.”
The room was cast under an uneasy silence then; something
that hadn’t been supposed to surface had come up… like… like that dead guy in I
Know What You Did Last Summer. And it wouldn’t go away- it was now out in
the open- the topic was closed, but you still had to do something about it.
Elisabeth held her tongue in respect, putting a temporary
halt to all of the questions billowing in her mind:
Who was Clara?
Where did they meet?
Were they living together?
How old was she?
How did he propose?
What went so ‘wrong’?
And what happened next?
All of these questions burned in her brain, her tongue
dying to ask them… and then she looked at Paul; looked how desolate he looked,
head hung down looking at the bed aimlessly, old thoughts haunting his soul,
and Elisabeth realised the damage she’d done- but so unintentionally.
She apologised again. “Paul, I’m really sorry, I didn’t
mean to pry.”
He looked up at her and gave her a gentle smile. “I know
you didn’t- just never talk about that, okay? It makes me upset.”
She nodded furiously, anything to help. “Ahuh, sure- I
won’t. No problem.”
He looked away again, returning to what seemed utter
torment, and Elisabeth just babbled to try and change things around again. It
was up to her- she’d caused all this mess. They’d been acting silly and
laughing a minute ago- now Paul was subdued and wallowing in past heartbreak.
“Wanna see my most prized possession in the whole world?”
She suddenly posed.
He looked up at her, still slowly, sadly. “What’s that,
then?” He said.
Elisabeth got up off the floor and made her way over to
the wardrobe, desperate to do anything to cheer him up.
She slid the door across to get into it, and then started
rummaging around in the top slot of the cupboard. She hoped Paul would like
this; it had been given to her by her grandfather ages ago, just before he
died, and now it was more valuable than ever. She kept it hidden away though:
fear of theft, harm and complacency.
“It’s here somewhere,” she called out from the closet,
fumbling around for the box.
“What’s that?” Paul suddenly asked: he’d noticed something
else.
“What?” Elisabeth turned to face him.
“That.” He pointed to the bottom of the wardrobe, where
she flung all her shoes. And where he was pointing- it was the little space in
the corner where she kept something that she really didn’t care for much
anymore.
“Oh- they’re my old dancing shoes,” she passed aside.
He looked at her. “You used to do ballet?”
“… and tap, and modern and jazz. Was fun!” When I’d
been about 16, she added in her head.
“Wow- can I see them?” He said, suddenly interested.
Elisabeth had no idea why. They were just a pair of old
ballet shoes, nothing massively important, and certainly they weren’t anymore-
she’d given up dancing completely. Except dancing to jazz of course at the
festivals- that lived on!
But if it was going to make Paul happy, then all for it.
She stooped down and picked them up, the pink slipper
shoes that had worn soles and handed them over to Paul.
“Look- size one’s! I haven’t done ballet since I was about
12,” she said to him.
“Wow…” He turned them over. “Can see you all dressed up in
your lacy tutu.”
She made a horrified face at him. “I did not! You
know, people think ballet is so graceful and pretty to look at, and yay, you’re
a floating ballerina! It isn’t like that at all. It’s hard, grafting work. You
have to be strong to be graceful, you have to be good to make it. Very,
very good. Delicate whimsy girls soon grow up.”
He laughed at the sternness in her voice, of the
experienced old-hand coming through.
“Could you do the standing on your toes thing?” he asked
her, intrigued.
She laughed. “Not all the time! It hurts, a lot.”
He smiled at her, the happiness returning to his cheeks a
little. “Ben did ballet.”
“Whaaaaaat?!”
He laughed. “He sure did! When he was younger- bless him.”
She forced a laugh out, astonished. “Oh my God!”
“Can’t say it rrrreally helped his dancing though!” He
grinned.
Elisabeth was so happy to see him looking cheerful again-
for a moment there it had been absolutely horrible- she’d felt like it was all
her fault, that she’d actually made someone feel miserable and that clung onto
her conscience more than anything.
He now had a smile on his face and looked as though he was
putting all of that uneasiness behind him- but Elisabeth realised that it had
changed something inside of her. She felt more for Paul than she ever had done
before- just watching him look at the ballet shoes, his eyes all intent and
shimmering, he looked like such a young boy- she suddenly saw him as a normal
human being. He’d been through pain like everyone else had in their lives, gone
through the same emotions as everyone else, and of course, it had affected him.
Obviously some things more than others… just realising all of this made
Elisabeth feel she could relate to him so much more. Okay: she hadn’t been
through exactly what he’d been through, but that he understood heartache for
one thing was good; because she felt heartache over Steve.
“I wonder if I’ll ever get over Steve,” Elisabeth mused
aloud, sitting down next to Paul on the bed.
He looked up at her sharply, wondering where that had come
from. “What makes you think that?”
“That I’ll be heart broken forever,” she let out a little
laugh.
He turned to face her fully. “You’re heart broken?”
Elisabeth shrugged. “I don’t know what state I’m in at the
moment. Am like in huge grey-area land- it all happened way too fast and way
too soon for me. Maybe because it went to quick it’ll just disappear out of my
head, but maybe because it was such a jump it’ll be something I live with for a
lonnnnng time.”
“Time can be a healer, and time can divide…” Paul
sang softly, surprising Elisabeth, but then he looked up and smiled at her.
“Steps song. Anyways-”
“Steps?!”
Paul laughed. “They’re good mates of ours! We have the
same managers- I’ve heard every single Steps song ever. Want me to dance
to 5,6,7,8?”
“Erm, no thankyou,” Elisabeth replied hastily.
Paul laughed. “Look sweetheart, I believe you’re strong-
you’ll get through this, it’ll make you a better person. A better judge of
character. Also give you confidence- to go out there and find someone you
really like, who will treat you right.”
Elisabeth laughed gently. “Yeah right.”
“I believe there’s someone out there,” Paul said, and then
got up and methodically put the ballet shoes away for her in the correct place;
Elisabeth sat and watched him.
‘I’ll go make us a cuppa,” she said, and quietly left the
room.
When she returned, Paul was back in his stomach position
again, moving his feet in the air, seemingly engrossed in looking at some
photographs.
Elisabeth frowned as she sat herself back down on the
floor again; although with the feeling that normality had returned.
“What are they?” She asked.
Paul looked up at her and took his tea. “Photos. Found
them on your bedside table.”
“Paul!” She exclaimed, and laughed. “You can’t just pick
something up! What if they had been like, private photos?!”
“What- like Elisabeth style playboy ones?” He looked up
and grinned at her, that cheekiness returning.
Elisabeth just gave him a look, and drank her tea.
“So where are these from?” He asked her, leafing through
them.
“Cyprus.”
“When d’ya go there?”
“Last summer- August, for two weeks.”
“Alone?!”
“No, I went with my friend Jess who lives in
Hertfordshire,” she replied.
“Ahhh cool- that her?” He said, pointing to a picture of
the two standing under a massive tree.
“Ahuh,” Elisabeth replied.
“Cooool. Never been myself,” he drank some tea, and looked
at more photographs.
“It’s so lovely there. All nice and warm, and everyone is
so friendly,” Elisabeth enthused.
“Hmmm, sounds like Spain,” Paul muttered to himself.
“Spain must be so cool,” Elisabeth imagined aloud. “I
couldn’t imagine living abroad- it would be amazing. Can you speak Spanish?”
“Fluently.”
“Say something, then.”
“Usted tiene un dia malo de cabello.”
“What does that mean?” Elisabeth scrunched her
nose.
“It means, you’re having a bad hair day.” And he
lifted up an awful photo of her that Jess had taken on that wind-swept day in
the town, and winked at her.
“Pauuuuuullll!” She cried, seriously embarrassed, and
snatched the pile of photos from him. “You are so incredibly mean!”
He laughed. “Noooo, I’m not! Can I have them back now,
please?”
“No! You’ll just insult me more!” She held them to her
protectively.
“No I will not,” he insisted, sitting up a little.
“You will. You’re mean like that!” Elisabeth
defended.
“Give them here, I wasn’t finished,” Paul stuck his hand
out, grinning.
“No,” Elisabeth replied, firmly, holding them right to
her, very self-conscious.
“Usted es es muy injusto.”
“Huh?”
“You’re being very unfair.”
‘I don’t care!”
“Give them here!” Paul laughed and he started to
pull them off her, and then used the dreaded tickling tactic, which always
worked a charm.
“Paul- stop iiiit!” She squealed, as he tickled her
lightly all over her arm, willing her to drop her photos.
Paul just laughed and carried on. “Not until I have them
back,” he said calmly.
Elisabeth tried to break free, struggling hard. “No-
you’ll be meaaaan!”
Paul leaned in closer and tickled harder, making her
squeal and laugh louder.
“I said one bad thing about your hair and you turn
into Mrs fragile bones,” he tutted, with extreme placidity continuing to
totally reduce Elisabeth to a hilarious fit, but she still kept hold of the
photos.
“Stop making me laaaaaaughhh!” She spluttered, as
he started trying to tickle her under her arms, and that just made her squirm
even more towards him, and he locked her in a hold and started pulling at the
photos.
“Aha!”
“You’ll rip them!!”
“Won’t be my fault.”
“Paauuuuullll!” She laughed, and two of them didn’t hear
the front door open and close, no way they heard any calling out, they didn’t
hear footsteps up the stairs, and they had no idea Becky was stood looking at
them in Elisabeth’s doorway until she said,
“well, well, well- what do we have here?”
The two stopped play-fighting immediately, and Elisabeth
cursing every adjective in her head warily looked up at her. She was leaning on
the frame, a huge grin on her face, looking at the scene with a degree of
fascination.
Oh no, Elisabeth thought. What the hell is she going
to think?!
“Hiya Becky!” Paul grinned at her, nonchalantly,
completely unbothered, looking up at her and swinging his feet in the air. “So
you’re back!”
“I ammmmm,” Becky said, her grin getting ever wider and Elisabeth
just curled up inside over how bad the situation looked with them up in her
room, Paul on her bed, the two of them messing around, and what with Becky’s
overactive imagination, she knew exactly what she thought was going on…
“Lib and I were just discussing Cyprus,” Paul beamed at
her.
Elisabeth coughed and sat cross legged on the floor, she
couldn’t bear to look at Becky’s face, even though she had nothing to be guilty
about.
“Ahhh riiiight,” Becky grinned again.
“Did ya have a good time?” Paul was making all of the
conversation. He didn’t care that to Becky, it would look like he and Elisabeth
were… something.
“Yeah- great! Am still kinda hungover though,” Becky
replied.
“That’s the way to do it!” Paul grinned, and they both
laughed.
“You okay, Liz?” Becky said.
Elisabeth’s cheeks flushed red. “Fine,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, she’s good,” Paul emphasized, and leant over and
ruffled her hair in a soft way like he had done before, but Elisabeth just
wanted to die.
Becky was finding all of this rather amusing. “You staying
for dinner, Paul? I bought a Chinese back.”
“Nah thanks- I’ve been here about five hours already,” he
replied, getting up off the bed.
Ohhhhh myyyyy Goddddd… Elisabeth buried her
head deeper.
“Oh, so you’re going?” Becky said, disappointment evident
in her voice, but Elisabeth was glad he was going. The situation was bad
enough.
“Yeah- have an early start too,” he said, and then he
looked down at Elisabeth. “Come on Lib- you comin’ to say goodbye to me?” He
grinned, standing up, and Elisabeth uncomfortably got up too, trying to keep
her head down.
But he put his hand on her shoulder and made her look up.
“Remember what I told you, okay?”
He meant about Steve.
She nodded slowly, and he smiled a real smile back at her,
and then took her hand (Oh God) and led her out the room. Becky
swivelled around, grinning stupidly at the two of them, and followed them down
like an expectant puppy.
They got downstairs, and Paul opened the front door an
inch or two, and turned to Elisabeth. “You okay now, sweetheart?” He checked
before he went, and she just nodded, her voice lost because her heart was in
her mouth, she was so worried he’d do something that would Becky even more
suspicious of their relationship- when there wasn’t even anything going on!
“Thanks for a great day,” he said (oh no, could that be
classified as a bad comment?!), “just remember to be strong.” He squeezed
her hand one last time, and then let go.
“I’ll call you,” he promised her, and she nodded.
He turned to her left and grinned. “Bye Becky! Two
paracetamol and some water,” and he winked, stepping outside the door.
“Thanks Paul!” Becky laughed.
He turned back to Elisabeth. “Bye,” he said softly to her,
and she managed a smile- she thought about how great he’d been today.
“Thankyou,” she uttered briefly.
He smiled wider. “Anytime.” And then he walked out of the
door and down the driveway to his car.
Elisabeth watched him as long as possible; aware that as
soon as he was gone she’d return to the house and be under a serious grilling
from Becky over what the hell she and Paul had been doing in her bedroom.
Elisabeth shuddered- she was never going to get Becky to believe her, never.
They were just friends, and that was all.
Eventually the car started up, and drove away. Silence
resumed.
Paul had gone; and Elisabeth sighing, closed the door and
got ready to face the Spanish inquisition.