Chapter 5: THEN - The Safe Room

The texts were innocent to begin with, like playful nudges reminding me he existed. Wot u up to? I agonised over my responses. I was texting a nineteen-year-old boy and that meant I had to sound grown-up. Should I tell him I was cooking? Reading a book? Or be honest and say I was flipping through Now! Magazine with the radio on?

Do u like pop music or dance?

Umm, both? I typed.

U askin or tellin?

Lmao

I felt conflicted. Peter was too old to be texting me and showing me this much attention. We couldn’t be friends, and we definitely couldn’t be more than friends, but I liked knowing he wanted to talk to me. Not Honey. Not girls his own age. Me. He was fit and he could probably pull anyone, but he chose me instead.

Keeping this secret was one of the biggest thrills of my short life. It was Honey who usually got to rebel. She stormed out of the house after arguments with Mum or played her music too loud or cried down the phone because of some drama while I did my homework and kept my mouth shut. But now I had my own tiny rebellion. A thrill trembled through me every time he messaged me. I liked him so much.

Join me for a drive tomorro. I got that CD 4 U.

I bit my lip. The summer holidays were ending soon, and I wanted to grab every opportunity with both hands. Mum and Dad would be at work, and Honey was supposed to watch me. She wouldn’t though, she’d meet Oliver or her mates and leave me to my own devices. Honey knew I’d never get into trouble. Well, I could show her.

All right, I responded. What time?

11. Meet u at the park.

K. C u soon xx

As soon as I realised I’d typed two Xs I wanted to reach through the phone screen and pull the message back. Now he’d know how much I liked him! My stomach sank to my feet in embarrassment. There was no way he’d ever text back now. But he responded a minute later with a winky face and a heart.

Did it seem like a sudden escalation? When Hannah was texting with Danny during Maths we analysed his emoticons for hours trying to decide if they meant he liked her or not. Hannah didn’t want to be the first person to send the heart. She didn’t want to seem needy. Peter clearly didn’t care. Was that because he felt so secure in himself? Maybe it was because he was older.

I remember not sleeping well that night. I felt like I was breaking all the rules. I got up early that morning and applied make-up, put on jewellery, and brushed out my hair. I wore shorts again because it was still hot and sticky out and put on one of my best tops. It was a sage green colour that brought out the hazel flecks of my irises.

Then I snuck down the stairs and into the corridor, pausing to put on my trainers from where I had dumped them by the back door.

“Where are you going all dolled up?”

I turned to find Honey standing there with her arms folded, a strange expression on her face, something between amusement and concern.

“I’m meeting Hannah at the park.”

She nodded slowly. “Can I come?”

“No,” I said, too quickly.

She grinned then. “Are you meeting a boy?”

“Shut up, Honey⁠—”

“You are!”

I grabbed my keys and yanked open the door. “Just leave me alone!”

The slam reverberated, and I stepped back surprised at my actions. Guilt crept over me, but I didn’t linger. I needed to get to the park to meet Peter. It was Honey’s fault, anyway, being nosey and poking me for a reaction like always. I could leave her alone, but she always had to put the knife in and then blame it on something I did to annoy her years ago. Like the time I cut the hair on her Sindy doll when I was five. You’d think I’d murdered someone she was so arsey about it. Why were big sisters so mean?

The whole estate was loud that day. A football almost hit the back of my head and some boy yelled out to duck. Then I tripped over someone’s dog’s lead when their terrier ran off along the pavement. A frazzled, top-heavy woman sprinted after the dog, her slippers threatening to fly off. I turned a corner towards the park and saw all the kids screaming and running around under the hot sun, the queue at the ice cream van, the mothers wiping tiny mouths. Then I saw the blue BMW and waved limply.

Everyone on the estate knew this park, and everyone used it. Mum and Dad brought us here for sticky picnics with finger sandwiches and bags of crisps. Last year Dad had to collect Honey from the swings at midnight after she’d got totally wasted with her friends and couldn’t walk home. It made sense to meet Peter here. Of course, this new chapter of talking to a boy would start at the park. It felt destined.

“All right?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I climbed into the front seat and tried to act like I’d been getting into boys’ cars for years, like it was no big deal.

“You look well pretty.” He grinned and stroked the side of my face.

I hadn’t been expecting that. He told me that the CD was just a friend thing. He’d sent the heart, but I also thought that I might be making too much of it. Now here he was touching my face. The car started before I could get my thoughts together. Was this a… date?

The air con started blasting and goosebumps erupted along my arms and legs. Peter Harlow wanted to take me for a date. Me! And he touched my face! But the butterflies in my stomach were frantic. Deep down I knew this was wrong, but I pushed it down as far as it could go. We were moving, leaving the park behind, all those families playing and laughing. Suddenly I wanted to be part of that instead. This all felt too grown up too fast.

“The moment of truth,” he said, putting the CD into the slot. “Hope you like it.”

I didn’t. It was loud and there were no melodies or choruses. People chanted over a thrumming bass that put my body on edge. But I nodded along and widened my eyes to make it seem like I was impressed.

“Saw this guy in Ibiza,” he said, moving one hand to the music. “Legendary.”

“Cool.”

I hadn’t even asked where we were going but we were certainly putting some distance between us and the estate. After about twenty minutes the scenery changed from urban to rural and there were fewer than half as many cars on the road. A headache formed behind my eyes, not helped by the loud music, and I began to regret agreeing to this. I glanced across at Peter, still dancing while driving, and wanted to tell him to turn around. Then I convinced myself that this was fine, Peter hadn’t been inappropriate, he was just having fun. I’d known him since I was a kid, nothing bad was going to happen to me. Besides, look at him. He was so hot. He probably didn’t even fancy me like that.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

He laughed. “I like you, Amber.”

That familiar tingle returned. He liked me. “You do? Like as a friend?”

He laughed. “Yeah. A friend. Or…” He shrugged. Then he said, “You’re a sweet girl, do you know that? Now, there are two kinds of girls in this world, the kind like your sister, and the kind like you. You’re sweet, she’s… trouble. I don’t like trouble. I like a nice easy life with a girl who’s right for me. A good girl.” He grinned.

I rubbed my sweating palms against the denim of my shorts.

“You’d make someone the best girlfriend.”

I smiled, not knowing what to say.

“Do you like me, Amber?”

I nodded.

“I thought so. I thought you liked me.”

He drove in silence for a few minutes. The music continued to pound, and the headache stretched across my head and down to my neck.

“Sometimes girls tell me they like me but then they go back on their word.” He changed gear and revved the engine. “I hate it when girls do that. But you… You mean it. I can tell.”

All of a sudden, he pulled sharply into a lay-by next to a field full of cows. I grabbed hold of the armrest and gasped.

“That’s better,” he said, ignoring my reaction, or not noticing it. “We need some quiet time just you and me.” He turned the engine off. “Now I can look at you instead of the road. You’re much nicer to look at.”

“Thanks,” I said, quietly.

He stroked my hair and sighed. “Mum keeps telling me I need a girlfriend, but like I said to her, there are so many girls out there getting in trouble.” He shifted himself closer. “You’re a virgin aren’t you, Amber?”

The warning bell was a screech inside my head, wailing like an ambulance. I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears to shut it up.

“I… um… I think… maybe…”

He scoffed and made fun of my ums. “It’s not a hard question. Either you’re a virgin or you aren’t.”

“Yes,” I muttered, my face boiling hot. Then, before I could lose my nerve, I added, “Thanks for the CD. Maybe I should go… home?”

“Are you asking, Amber?” He leaned closer and gently touched my face. “Or are you telling?”

“Yes… I… I’m asking. Please.”

He pushed my hair behind my ear.

“Can I kiss you?”

I shook my head.

He frowned, paused with one finger on my chin. “I thought you were a good girl. Did I get the wrong impression of you?”

I shook my head again. I wanted to cry now.

“Just a little kiss.” He planted his lips on my cheek.

I froze.

“How about on the lips?”

“No,” I mumbled. “Take me home please.”

His hand bunched up in my hair, pulling it back a little. His eyes widened slightly. Then he let go. “I’d be disappointed to take you home, but I get it. You’re a sweet girl and I’m rushing you.”

Air whooshed through my lips. He was listening to me. He was going to take me home.

“Sorry I got a bit pushy,” he said, an easy smile back on his face. “You’re just like a diamond, you know? You’re so rare. I want to treasure you.” He started the car. “From the moment I met you, Amber, I knew you were special. You deserve to be treated right. A gentleman would take you home, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

He pinched my cheek, turned the car around, and that was the first and last time I ever went on a date with Peter Harlow.