Girl Next Door - Alyssa Brugman [51]
And that would be the end of it.
See, what happened was, I was at Declan's after the whole ringing Dad business, and we were talking about other things, the way you do. Declan said that he had been looking at vaginas on the internet, but he needed to see a real one, just for scientific research. I said I thought the photos were probably pretty accurate and the real ones were most likely much the same, but he said they weren't in three dimensions. Anyway this back-and-forth went on for a while, and we laughed a lot. Eventually I agreed to flash him for half a second in the name of science. Except it didn't end up being for half a second.
When I went over to Declan's house he was listening to my story, and he was saying all the predictable things. He was genuinely interested in everything that I said. He'd missed me, because he loves me. He made me laugh.
When I saw him again after being apart I'd missed him too. It's as if when we first met we were two separate shapes but over time our personalities have rubbed together so much that now they're moulded into two complementary shapes – like a jigaw. Yin and yang.
This morning it was so nice to fit into the mould again, and be in a safe happy place with someone I trust, and to be able to laugh at the things that happened, to be able to cry, and have Declan be genuinely, sincerely, earnestly . . . and all that.
So that's why it happened.
And also it felt good at a time when everything else felt bad.
The big question is, what do we do about it? Almost the second we stopped I realised it was a really, really dumb thing to do. Especially when he said the thing he said afterwards, which was meant to be a joke, but wasn't.
Who knew this was how events were going to unfold? Even twenty minutes before, if someone had suggested it I would have said pfft! If I'd known beforehand I would have worn nicer undies, for starters.
Now the mould is broken because our whole relationship had been based on him making dirty suggestions and me turning him down, and neither of us believing that it could ever occur. Those are the shapes we are.
Were.
Now I'm sad, angry with myself, and scared too, because the one thing I could rely on in my whole life was the shape of Declan.
But here is the magic solution! We just tell Declan's mum about the affair, like tipping over the first domino.
This is what I'm thinking as we pull into the caravan park – dominoes. The car stops. Bryce Cole, Mum and Will are all staring at our caravan, which has these weird black and grey blotches around the windows like smudged mascara. While we were away having Chinese, someone has set the caravan alight and then hosed it down.
21
THE PLOUGH
AND PEANUT
On the inside, the caravan is not as burnt as I imagined, but it still leaves a hollow feeling in my gut. Everything stinks like an old ashtray. There's also the acrid odour of melted plastic, and some kind of fuel. Not petrol, but maybe paint thinner, or kerosene. Someone came in here to wreck our stuff. Why would they do that? Why do they hate us so much? They don't even know us.
The beds are soggy. There are beads of sooty water leaving trails down the wall and in pools on the uneven floor. My green shopping bag is damp. My dirty clothes on the top are sooty and smell really bad, so I take them out.
You'd expect that people would be milling around, and maybe there was excitement a while ago, but by the time we came back it was old news.
The guy from the neighbouring van seems disappointed that we weren't in there at the time. 'Yeah, I told the firies that I hadn't seen yous, and they went in there just in case. Then they washed it down, and that.'
Nobody saw who lit it.
'But your mum smokes, eh,' the neighbour says. 'Yeah, I told the firies that.'
The woman from reception says there aren't any other vans available, and she gives us a look, as if we were the ones who lit the fire – as if we're trouble.