New Places, New Problems
Chapter 11
"Nobody is expecting anything from you here," Stephen said to Claire when she was frowning so hard that he thought she might be trying to stop herself from crying. "Nothing like the common city expectations, at any rate." He looked at her for a minute without speaking. "I'm going to the mainland this afternoon. If you need to go, just say so and you can go with me. We'll agree on a time and then we could meet up and return."
Claire raised her eyes. He was offering to take her, but he was obviously not going to stay with her while he was in town. What was he going to do then? "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to the leisure centre and I'm going to look around the shops a bit, maybe," Stephen said vaguely.
"What time will you return?"
"On Fridays? Mmm…usually at around midnight, but sometimes later."
"Midnight?"
"I usually have dinner at a place with a few friends."
"Then I probably shouldn't come along," Claire said. She did not want to interfere with his plans.
"It doesn't matter. The other day Sean brought three cousins. Now, as long as people don't bring male cousins, you can bring any number of people you like," Stephen smiled. "Most of us are bachelors, you see. They're going to be very nice to you."
"And can I just come along? They didn't reserve places at this restaurant?"
"Reserve places?" Stephen was amused. "Ah no. That's a city thing. We just go there and if our table is taken, we just wait for the people to leave. We have plenty of time. We're bachelors."
Claire accompanied Stephen on his boat, enjoying the trip to the mainland very much. Stephen had not spoken much, but she did not want him to because it would disturb the peace that seemed to hang over this small bit of calm sea.
He was steering the small yacht to the other side, but his mind was elsewhere, Claire noticed. She took the opportunity to study him and she wondered what he was thinking about.
She was glad he had invited her to come along, even though she did not know what she would do once she got ashore. Lirra was small, but perhaps there were some shops she could look at. "Does Lirra have a library?" she called to Stephen. If she got bored, she could always seek refuge in the library to read some newspapers or books.
"Yes," Stephen called back.
The daintily coloured houses of Lirra came closer and closer and he steered into the harbour. Evidently he had done this before, because he knew where to moor his boat. Claire watched in fascination how he got the rather large thing neatly moored and tied to the quay. He did not seem to be afraid of falling into the gap between the quay and the boat either and jumped ashore confidently. Claire was still sitting on her bench when he beckoned her to join him. She stood up and was sure she could not leave the boat without falling. The quay was a little higher than the boat. How was she ever going to get up there? "I can't," she said, eyeing the distance uncertainly.
Stephen put down his bag and jumped back onto the boat. He would have to help her.
The boat shook when he landed on deck and Claire was afraid she would fall. She grabbed the nearest thing to regain her balance, which was Stephen. "Argh!" she exclaimed. "I'm going to fall!"
"Nonsense." Stephen steadied her with one arm.
"My legs aren't long enough to bridge that gap."
"I'll help you." He pushed her towards the quay. "Put your foot on the shore."
"I can't push myself up. It's too high," Claire protested with one foot on the quay. Did he think it was easy to do these ballet manoeuvres or something?
"Jump!" Stephen coaxed her.
"I can't! I'd fall."
Stephen placed his hands under her bottom to push her up, but he groaned when instead of letting him lift her like any sensible girl would, Claire removed her foot from the quay in shock. "Clai-aire!" he sighed in exasperation. "Keep your foot on the quay!"
"How can I do that when you're fondling me?" she cried.
"I can fondle a heck of a lot better than that," retorted Stephen, who was a bit annoyed that she had taken it the wrong way. Now why did he say that? He turned a little red.
"I don't want to know!" Claire cried with a blush.
"Then don't pretend that you do! Put your foot up!" he ordered her.
Claire put her foot back up obediently. She did not like it that a few old men in woollen sweaters had sauntered closer to look at the scene with interest. Now everybody in Lirra was watching how Stephen was carrying out what she felt resembled Operation Elephant.
Unconsciously she was pushing back, because she was still afraid to fall. It was making it harder for Stephen to push her up. He muttered something under his breath. "You don't look that heavy, but my God, do you feel it." With one final thrust of his hands Stephen sent Claire sprawling across the quay. He shook his head and jumped up after her.
"Next time we'll get that crane ready when we see you approach with the lady on board," said one of the old men, who chuckled. He said some more, but it was in dialect.
Claire felt rather humiliated, still being on all fours.
"Ahh no," Stephen told the old man. "Much prefer doing it myself." He gave Claire a hand in standing up.
"Never again," Claire breathed. "Never."
"Why are you so red?" Stephen asked as they walked over the quay towards the shopping streets. "You'd think you had done all the pushing!"
She turned even redder. How could he be so completely unaware of the humiliation he had caused her?
"Are you embarrassed?" he asked finally. "Why? They were laughing at me, for not being able to push such a thin girl up. But if you hadn't accused me of fondling you, it would have happened a whole lot quicker. Now I constantly had to mind where I put my hands. I'm probably more embarrassed than you are!"
Chapter 12
Claire had left Stephen at the leisure centre and walked through the quaint little town for a while. When the shops and the library closed at six, she had nothing left to do and she returned to the leisure centre. Stephen was not visible anywhere.
After Claire had waited for half an hour, he appeared, coming down the stairs and talking animatedly to a black-haired man. They parted at the foot of the stairs and Stephen walked towards Claire. "Have you been waiting long?" he asked.
"I can recite the activity leaflets backwards," she replied. Which was not true, since she had spent the time by watching some volleyball training and reading one of the books she had borrowed from the library.
"I'm sorry. I ran into a friend I hadn't seen for a while and I didn't look at my watch." Stephen seemed concerned that she had had to wait very long.
Claire chose not to pursue the subject any further. "Is Claire Elson, Tenrae a valid address?"
"Yes," Stephen answered. He wondered why she asked.
"They accepted it at the library. I became a member. I didn't know my -- your -- address. What is it? Stephen, Tenrae?"
"Yes." Basically, it was. Plus his last name.
"Odd."
"Yes," he admitted. Odd if you looked at it from a city perspective. Everyone knew everyone on the islands and directions other than the name were unnecessary.
"Can you say anything else?" Claire asked. "Where are we going?"
"The Miracle House." Stephen turned up his collar against the wind when he stepped outside. He ran a hand through his hair to feel how wet it still was. "Your becoming a member…does that mean you're staying?"
"I suppose so. You seem to need help at the school." Claire did not know why she had decided to stay. Perhaps it had always been the case. She was not someone who gave up easily. If she had taken the trouble to come all the way out here, she ought to give life here a try.
"I think you might be good," Stephen offered.
Was this praise coming from Stephen? Claire could hardly believe it. She stared up at him in surprise.
"The children like you. Even if you turn out to be an absolute disaster at teaching, you could always keep doing the little ones."
"But that means you've got to keep doing the bigger ones and I thought the plan was that you'd show me the ropes and then go back to whatever you were doing before…"
Stephen smiled a little. "Yes, that was the plan. I might have changed my mind. I've seen now that it's easier to make it a two-man job." That sounded very plausible, did it not?
"That's right. Does it pay enough to live on? It was my understanding that the school board could only afford one salary." It might be more convenient to have two teachers, but one had to stay practical as well, Claire thought.
"Claire, did you live alone before you came here?"
"I shared a flat with another girl."
"And now you're sharing with me. I don't know how many clothes you buy, but you can easily live off half a salary where I live if you don't spend too much on clothes and other useless stuff."
"Spoken like a true man," Claire said with a hint of sarcasm.
"New clothes aren't really practical on the island." Why dress up if there was no one to see it?
"I suppose not, if you have to dig up your own potatoes."
"I don't see how clothes come into that." Stephen used his hands and he did not wipe them off on his clothes. They would not get dirty from digging up potatoes.
"I suppose you'd be wearing something," Claire said.
Stephen had an imagination that sometimes became too lively. "Oh why? You've seen where I live. Nobody could see me." He grinned at her misunderstanding.
She was disgusted. "No! Eew."
"You're a silly city girl," he remarked with half a smile. "Did you even know that potatoes don't grow on trees? I've known people who didn't."
"Then you knew some pretty stupid people," she said apologetically.
"Yes, thank you. You're about to meet some of the worst." Stephen slowed his pace and stopped in front of a pub. "Here we are. Do you still want to come?" He looked at her inquisitively. "I warn you. They're all men and they're all stupid. By your rules, that is. And they might all try to impress you."
"Why?"
"Because you're a girl. If you don't feel up to it, you can go in alone and pretend you don't know me." Stephen's eyes twinkled. That would be even worse.
Claire narrowed her eyes. "Ha. I don't think that's going to be a better option. Down here people seem to have primitive ideas about how to treat women, don't they? They'll be all over me in a second, won't they? Thinking I need men to keep me company."
"Primitive," Stephen muttered and shook his head. "But I see you're a quick learner. That is exactly what will happen if you leave my side." Not only his friends would try to flirt, but the rest of the pub would too once they saw she was unattached.
"They won't think I'm with you?"
"They know me," Stephen said mysteriously and held the door open for her.
Chapter 13
Claire got a taste of what would have happened if she had come here alone. One by one all the heads in the pub turned in her direction. Young and old both found her more interesting than their pints or whiskeys. Did they never see any strangers in this place? She halted, but Stephen was behind her. "You lead," she hissed.
He pushed himself past her and the men in the pub slowly regained their interest in their drinks and their own companions. Stephen grinned.
Claire saw his grin and she punched him. "You knew that! You're probably taking me to the most xenophobic pub in town as well!"
Stephen did not comment. He walked towards a large wooden table that was occupied by three men already. "Claire -- Sean, Peter, Tim," he introduced them and then hung up his coat.
Claire saw there was no need to be reserved with this lot when they immediately pulled out a chair for her and invited her to sit down. Two more drinks were ordered as well. She saw Stephen put a banknote in the mug on the table. Did she have to do that too? "What's that for?" she asked her neighbour, Tim.
"That's how we pay for our drinks and our meals."
"I should contribute too then." Claire reached for her wallet. She was not going to drink all that much. The pint in front of her would last her the entire evening.
"Stephen is not paying for you? Stephen!"
"Careful, Tim. We don't want to be thought primitive natives," said Stephen. "City girls like paying for themselves." But he had already contributed a double portion.
"Stephen has something against city girls," said Claire.
"Stephen has something against cities, period," Sean declared. "That's why he keeps coming back here. If he's ever negative about city girls, it must be because they never want to come here with him."
"You've got to be really fed up with life to come here," Claire commented.
"Are you?" Peter asked. "We can't have that. Drink that pint and you're not going to be fed up with life tonight."
Claire drank a little to please him. She feared all of them would be drunk before dinner. While they were listening to Sean telling them about his latest adventure with a city girl, she had time to study them. They were all a few years older than she was -- early to mid-thirties, she guessed. They looked friendly enough and certainly laughed a lot at each other.
Phil, Jack and Don joined them with short intervals. Like the rest of them, they were what Claire would call a bit coarse-looking -- suave businessmen they were not. But their good humour was evident and most were not devoid of intelligence, although they obviously did not gather in the pub to hold intellectual discussions. Claire liked them. More men joined their table, but she gave up on trying to remember their names. One was called Mike and the other was a dentist, but that was as far as she got.
Dinner was unexpectedly good there and unexpectedly much, but the advantage of sharing a table with a dozen men was that nothing would be left on anyone's plate.
Matthew arrived after dinner. He had had to look after his patients, but apparently this happened more often, because nobody was surprised at his late arrival. The rest, who had left the table for a standing place near the dance floor, greeted him with cheers.
Since the others were more attentive than Stephen -- Claire called it social -- she had lost sight of Stephen for a while, until she saw him sitting at the bar talking to an older man. Well, if he liked that better, he should do that. The ever-changing composition of the group around her began to confuse Claire and she was glad to see a familiar face. "Hi Matthew."
Matthew wriggled himself nearer. "Come and dance!" he shouted.
Claire did not really like dancing, but she had some trouble understanding Phil and Peter's accents and she had completely lost track of what they were talking about. She allowed Matthew to pull her onto the dance floor, into a group of six others of the men who were making spastic movements that would have been frowned upon where Claire came from, but that were perfectly accepted here. She never danced because she always feared she might move just as spastically, but compared to Sean and the dentist she would be the essence of grace and she gave it a go.
The music was good and it was quite amusing to dance, actually, but it soon grew crowded. By necessity they all had to move a little closer and Claire escaped to the toilets when Matthew showed signs of wanting to dance too close to her, placing his arm around her possessively when another man smiled at her. She did not know whether she wanted that. It was best to take a little break, especially since Matthew had not been the first -- although he had been the first of Stephen's friends.
She got stuck in the crowd halfway and suddenly found herself stomach to stomach with Stephen. He was obviously a more experienced pub crawler than she was, because he pulled her out of the way of a fat man, who was apparently also headed for the toilets and making a wide path for himself and whoever was right behind him. Stephen wasted no time in following the man. He grabbed Claire's hands and made them circle his waist from behind, pressing them against his stomach.
"Stephen, what are you doing?" she called, but he did not hear her and she was forced to go with him, as awkwardly as it went. He delivered her to the queue for the ladies' toilets without a word and disappeared in the men's. Claire stared after him. He was so strange. How had he known where she had been going? And all this without talking.
When she came out of the toilet, she found Matthew waiting for her. "I talked to Stephen," he said. "If you want to stay, I can drop you off at home, no problem, but Stephen wants to go home soon."
"When will you be leaving?" she asked.
"A place around the corner is open till six. This one is closing soon."
Claire looked around herself. There was no sign of that yet. It was still full.
"Come with us. It'll be fun," Matthew coaxed.
Where was Stephen? Why was he not telling her himself that he wanted to go home? Where had he gone? Did that mean he would rather have her stay behind? Claire moved aside to win time. "Uhh…"
"Do come."
She was tired. "Maybe next week," she smiled.
"Next week?" Matthew was obviously disappointed. "Oh Claire! Come on."
Somehow that only made her reply more firmly. "Not tonight. I'm tired. Where's Stephen?" She had to find Stephen soon, because it was not unthinkable that she might succumb to too much pleading. She could already see Sean approach and no doubt he would be called upon to help to convince her.
"He's outside," Matthew said reluctantly.
"I'll go and talk to him," Claire said hastily when another fat man passed. "Bye, Matthew!" She could not escape a kiss on her mouth that tasted too much of beer, but then quickly pushed herself ahead to follow the fat man. She used the same tactic Stephen had used and soon found herself near the door. It was easy to get outside, since there was a steady flow of people headed in that direction towards closing time. Stephen was sitting outside, scribbling something onto a piece of paper. "I'll go with you," Claire said to him, spitting out the beer taste that lingered on her lips.
He looked up with a start. "Oh. I hadn't seen you." He smiled, glad that she was coming with him. He had not been certain of that, although he had hoped that she would.
"But my coat," she suddenly realised.
"I have it here. I was hoping you'd come. Why are you spitting?" It was not a very ladylike thing to do.
"Someone kissed me." Claire took the coat from him, wondering if it had not been presumptuous of him to hope that she would come. He must have been pretty certain of her, considering that it would be impossible to go back inside, what with all the people coming out. Or would she have to come out anyway because the place was closing?
"Eew," he commented with a smile. She must not have liked it. That was a relief. "Not one of my friends, I hope? I didn't know they would be that bad."
"Yes, but…" Claire shrugged. "I'm sure it was just a goodbye kiss." Stephen did not comment. He stood up and stuck the piece of paper into the pocket of his coat. Claire wondered what was on it. She pulled on her coat and followed him. "Why didn't you dance?" she asked, not having seen him on the dance floor.
"It was a bit crowded there," he answered. There had been so many men around her that he had preferred to watch from a distance.
"But do you do it on other occasions?" Claire was curious to know if he liked it.
"Sometimes. You had enough people to entertain you, didn't you? You didn't need me."
"Do you dance better than Sean and the dentist?" Claire asked with a wicked smile. Maybe he was even worse.
Stephen laughed. "Doesn't everyone? Even you do."
"Have you been watching me?" Claire asked in amazement. She had not seen him do that at all.
"I had to keep an eye on the lads. They had to behave in front of my houseguest."
"Would you have interfered?" She wondered how she would have reacted.
"I already did," he said curtly. "I usually go with them if they go on to the night club, but we usually don't have girls with us. That changes matters."
"But you're not responsible for me."
"You don't know them well enough yet," he answered. "Some of them might act as though they have serious intentions when they don't."
"Which ones?"
Stephen shook his head. "That doesn't matter. It's best for you to find out by yourself, but don't take their flirting seriously for the first…" he thought about it. "…month. You can probably take them seriously after that."
Claire had been mulling over Stephen's words on their walk back to the boat. It was strange to say about one's friends that they could not be taken seriously and if he had been flirting with her himself, she would not have believed him. But he was not. He never said anything that could even remotely be considered as flirting. It was likely that he could not even do it.
She thought about the others. Some had definitely betrayed an interest in her, but she did not really need Stephen's advice, did she? She was smart enough not to put too much faith in men's interest in her. It could fade as quickly as it had appeared. But perhaps he had been right in bringing the matter up. She had not been giving it any thought before, but she supposed that men here were more desperate than those in town, because of the relative scarcity of women. Whether this was really true, she did not know, but it sounded plausible.
Take the dentist -- she still did not know his name. If he had moved here before he had got himself a wife, he was not very likely to ever find one unless he lowered his standards, Claire thought, knowing dentists were considered a good catch in town and that they literally had their pick of women. They would be a good catch here as well, but they would have a more restricted choice. There could not be very many educated women around, she supposed. They would all have left this remote corner to go and study somewhere else. That was all assuming the dentist would prefer educated women, which might not be the case, but she would not know that unless she asked him.
The arrival of an educated single woman would arouse the interest of all the educated single men in Lirra and its surroundings, Claire reasoned. But she did not quite see why Stephen should say that they did not have any serious intentions.
And what about Stephen himself? So far she had heard that Stephen did not like island girls and that he did not like city girls either. He was picky, but how silly to hold her place of birth against a girl, when that was entirely the parents' fault. Indignation welled up in her again like it so often did after Stephen had said something. She completely forgot to protest when Stephen jumped onto his boat and stretched out his hands to her waist to swing her down.
It was dark, but Stephen knew the boat like the back of his hand and he put her on deck with a sure movement. He guided her to a seat in the small cabin. "Sit here until I'm ready," he said, wondering at her meekness. She had to be extremely tired not to protest against any of these innocent actions. Did this mean he could for once behave normally without her accusing him of being a complete jerk? It would be a nice change.
There was no comment about useless females having to stay out of the way as he prepared the boat for their departure, although he had half expected one. He steered the boat out of the harbour, something he liked to do without interference in the dark, and she remained seated until just when he increased speed. "Oh #$$#," Stephen said when Claire stumbled. He had not sped up on purpose, but a paranoid mind would never believe it. He was sure she glared at him in the dark, but he could not see it. "Sorry."
City people lost their balance so easily. He always remained on his feet himself, unless something major happened, but they were only going fast at the moment. They were practically no waves. He held out a hand so she would not fall if she walked towards him. "Maybe you should stay seated. We don't want you to fall overboard in the dark," he said.
Claire grunted and gingerly crawled towards him on all fours. She was not going to give in by staying in the cabin.
"Ahh, independent woman," Stephen nodded, one hand lightly on the helm. He should have told her to come to him, instead of mentioning that it would be better for her to stay seated. It was kind of funny. There were more benches on deck and Claire fell down on one. He looked at her. "Do you feel sick?"
"No. You're going faster than on our way over," she said.
"Yes," he agreed. "To save time, because we're going to lose some in a minute."
"Why?"
Stephen looked around himself and judged he distance between him and the lights ashore. This was a good point. He turned the engine and the boat glided on quietly. "Because I like that." He stretched himself out on a bench and looked up at the sky.
Claire could only hear the sloshing of the water against the boat. For the rest it was completely silent. She stared at Stephen. He was not asleep, because his eyes were open, but he was not moving either. He was just lying there and the boat was drifting at sea. What if some big oil tanker overrun them? She panicked slightly. Was he going to sleep in his boat? What was he doing? If he fell asleep, she could not go anywhere, because she could not sail boats. "Stephen?"
Stephen heard a tone of anxiety in her voice. "Yes?"
"What are you doing? We might collide with something."
"A lost whale, maybe," he replied. "But I think the last one turned up here in 1926."
"Stephen…please get us to the island," Claire begged.
He sat up. There was nothing around. He could see the lights of the island and the lights of Lirra, but for the rest there was only sea and sky. How could she not notice the beauty of it? "Alright, I had my fix," he said resignedly. "But use your eyes." He was reluctant to disturb the peace by switching on the engine again. If he had been the type, he would have said it was very inspirational. She would not be seeing anything sitting there and he pulled her up, placing her between himself and the controls so she would not have any opportunities to sway across the deck like a drunk. He did not know how she managed to still lose her balance when he turned on the engine and the boat sped forward, but she did it. "Are you drunk?" he asked finally, not understanding how someone could still be unstable if she was hemmed in between one definitely unmoving thing and a relatively unmoving person.
"My legs might be a little wobbly," Claire confessed. She was trying to use her eyes and wondering what had given Stephen his fix. Was it his fix of teasing her? Or could he just be wild about floating on the sea in the dark? He was odd in any case. But the cold air and the smell of the sea were sobering her up a little and she noticed there was something appealing about sailing in the dark. It was a bit cold to stand here, because did not have a windproof coat like he did. But it was also nice to be held in place by Stephen. Maybe she was more drunk than she had assumed.
"A little!" Stephen guffawed. "I don't want to know what you consider really wobbly."
"I don't know. I've never experienced that."
"Are you steady enough to walk home?" he asked.
"I got to the boat, didn't I?"
"That's right," he agreed. "It's just that it's a bit far to carry you."
"You wouldn't carry me," Claire said immediately. "I bet you'd tell me to sleep in that little cabin if I couldn't walk."
Stephen knew he did not exactly become more sober during a boat trip in the night. If anything, the views only put him more of a trance if he had already drunk a little. He frequently wrote for a few hours after coming home, but seemingly it could also have another effect on him, something he had never noticed before, since he was usually alone if he came back. "I'd never let a girl sleep in the cabin all by herself," he said gallantly. "I'd join you." This caused him to frown at himself. In him, it was his mind that was becoming a little wobbly and not his legs.
Claire was amazed. "It's rather tiny, you know, Stephen."
"I'm familiar with my boat, yes."
"And yet you suggest that we both sleep in there?"
"I never suggested such a thing," he denied. "You suggested that I'd leave you in there and I said I wouldn't leave you there alone."
"So you suggested that we stay there together."
"Which, as you correctly pointed out, is nearly impossible for two people unless they enjoy all the discomfort of being nearly on top of each other on a hard bench." Stephen had lost his original thought. He did not know what he had meant by saying he would have joined her.
"You always struck me as the spartan kind, though," Claire remarked. No, this was not flirting. This was just having words with Stephen.
"Er…well." He did not know what she meant now. "I wouldn't feel anything if I'm so spartan and you'd be too drunk to feel anything of those hard benches either."
"Oh! But don't you have something like cushions?"
"It took you a bit long to give me the credit for maybe having cushions," Stephen remarked.
"But do you?"
"Yes, I do."
"But I didn't see them."
"I only show them to people who are nice to me."
"And I'm not?" Claire asked. She suspected she was not.
"I'm sure you'd know that best yourself." Stephen steered into Tenrae's small harbour and made for his own spot. "But despite the cushions, it's a hard lie, so forget about your intentions of testing my meanness by misbehaving so badly that I'd leave you on the boat."
"What?" Claire exclaimed. He had hit too close to the truth. She was curious.
"Ahh, you know I'm right. It's not going to work. I told you I'd stay with you and I'm not sure you'd enjoy that, because as you said, it's tiny in there and you wouldn't be able to get away from me."
"I can't do that at the moment either," Claire pointed out. She was stuck between him and the controls.
"But you'd rather not prolong the state," Stephen said. He jumped ashore to fasten the boat. "Always happy to oblige."
"Now that's a lie."
"No, it's not. I'm seemingly always capable of enforcing your opinion of me, however far from the truth that might actually be."
"So you're saying you're a gallant gentleman?" Claire asked unbelievingly as she watched him fasten the ropes.
"No. Get ashore yourself, chicky," Stephen said in an amiable voice, crossing his arms and looking down onto the boat. "I love to see you stumble and make a total fool of yourself."
"Chicky?" she cried, trying to find an elegant way of getting onto the landing.
"Look, is this some trick to get me back aboard or are you really incapable of climbing ashore?" Stephen asked. Even a baby could do it.
"I hate you, Stephen," Claire fumed, calling him names under her breath. It was not helping things along that she was wobbly and that he was making fun of her. And the most irritating thing of all was that she was having great difficulties climbing onto a landing that was as high as her knees.
Stephen took pity on her and dragged her onto the landing, so she ended up on her stomach. "You must really be drunk," he remarked in amazement. "Poor girl. I'm sorry I underestimated your drunkenness." He pulled her up to her feet. "If you promise not to vomit in my neck, I'll carry you home on my back."
"Ugh," Claire remarked. She would rather walk.
Stephen did not think that was a good idea. It took a while before he had got her onto his back, but it finally worked and he began to walk home.
On the other hand, Claire reflected, there was something about being carried home that appealed to her as well. Perhaps one should not take what Stephen said too seriously, since he was always taking good care of her. Or did it just seem that way because she was a little drunk?
Claire was glad she could sleep late because there was no school on Saturdays, not even here, but she was woken up by persistent hammering towards noon. When she arrived downstairs, she found it was Stephen's father working on something. Abby was reading a book and Stephen was not around. He was probably in his own part of the house. Claire did not mind. While she had been getting dressed, she had tried to remember what had happened last night and she had discovered that Stephen had probably carried her home part of the way. Her memory was a bit vague in that aspect and she was not looking forward to having that part cleared up.
"You'll be wanting some breakfast," said Abby, getting up energetically.
Lunch would be more appropriate at this hour, Claire though, but she nodded. "I can help myself if you show me where things are." If she was going to be staying here for longer, she did not want people to do things for her as if she was a guest.
"Nonsense."
"But you're reading a book."
"I've read it three times already. It can wait." She got Claire a plate. "Sit down. How was last night? Did you like it?"
Claire hesitated. Should she say she had been slightly tipsy? Maybe Stephen had already told his mother about it. "It was interesting."
"Interesting? You didn't have fun?" Abby asked in concern. "There were too many men?"
"No, I had fun," Claire said hastily. "But I might have drunk a little too much. Did Stephen have fun?" She was curious. He did not seem to be the type to reveal that.
"I haven't seen him yet this morning," said his mother. "He's been to the shops for me, though. The shopping list is gone and the fridge is full, so he was up early. He's probably working. I think he has a deadline on Monday."
"For what?"
"Some freelance thing," Abby said vaguely, not helping Claire much. "The internet is a blessing for parents. It means he can live here with us and not somewhere miles away. Did you live with your parents?"
Claire shook her head. She was still wondering about Stephen. What could he be doing? She wondered why she could not ask outright, but somehow she could not. "No, I shared a flat with another girl." She thought about her parents. "Maybe I should call my parents to let them know I've gone here."
Abby looked surprised. She gave Claire a quick glance and then looked back at the egg she was frying. "Why don't they know?" It was very odd that Claire had not told them. Perhaps she should not ask. It was none of her business.
"Didn't think they'd care," Claire mumbled self-consciously. She should not have mentioned her parents in the first place. Now Abby was going to say that of course her parents cared, because they were parents, but Abby did not know them and she did not know they cared very little.
"You can always use our phone," Abby offered. She did not want to ask anything if Claire did not want to tell her. "If you feel you want to call them."
"Thank you." Claire pulled the book Abby was reading towards her and started to read the back. "I read one of these."
"Really?" Abby turned. "Did you like it? Which one was it?"
Claire deduced that Abby must be liking the book very much, which would be why she had already read it three times. "I think so. I don't remember much…" She almost felt guilty about that. "I think I liked it."
The sound of footsteps announced that Stephen was on his way. The door opened a few seconds later. "Morning," he said, sitting down opposite Claire at the table. "Hangover?" he questioned.
"No!" She shot an uneasy glance at Abby. What would Abby think of that? "I didn't drink that much. And you?"
"I can't. Unless I stay ashore. I might end up on the wrong island if I drink too much and Mum would be worried if I didn't come home, wouldn't you?" Stephen asked cheerfully.
"How old are you?" Claire blurted out. Surely Stephen was old enough to decide for himself if and when he wanted to come home. "What if you decide to stay with a friend?"
Stephen gave her a strange grimace and left the room.
Claire was baffled. "What did I do now?"
"You're communicating on different levels," said Abby with a shrug. "It'll sort itself out eventually once you know each other better." She slid the fried egg onto Claire's plate. She was his mother, but sometimes even she did not know what Stephen was doing.
Claire ignored the egg. "Did I insult him? I don't understand."
"Don't worry about it," Abby told her. "It's nothing." Or rather, it was nothing that was important at this moment.
Stephen returned a few moments later. "I had to go," he announced. "I was going to say something bad."
"Quite right. Not front of your mother," said Abby. "Do that if I'm not there."
"Yes, I wrote it down so I can remember it."
"I don't even want to know you do that, Stephen." Abby slid another egg onto a plate and placed it before him.
Stephen grinned. "Thank you."
Claire felt confused. She did not understand a thing of what they were saying. Perhaps they were talking about her. They were making fun of something at any rate. And they obviously got along so well. She would have loved to get along so well with her mother. Claire stared at her food and tried to eat it. Someone kicked her. It had to be Stephen, since he was the only other person seated at the table and she looked up. He pushed a small scrap of paper towards her, all the way to her plate when she did not extend her hand to take it. He nodded at it when she still did not touch it and she picked it up. I tend to exaggerate, it said. She read it again and then looked at him to see what he meant by it, but he only gave her a kind smile and then started eating. Claire crumbled the piece of paper.
© 2000, 2001 Copyright held by the author.