Chapter Three
By the end of the week it was time for me to leave for France. Keith waited with me. Aimee had already gone so I had only my personal tape player for company. I grabbed a newspaper, noting the headline stating construction workers had drilled through the final wall of rock to join the two halves of the Channel Tunnel linking Britain to France. I wished it was finished now.
Both my parents greeted me at the station. “Joyeux Noel!” My father exclaimed, giving me a huge hug.
My mother peppered me with questions about life in London and saved the setting up of the creche so I could participate. “You always looked forward to this,” my mother said.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her it didn’t hold the same allure as when I was a girl. Still, I enjoyed filling my parents in on life in London as I unwrapped the wooden figures.
We sat down to a supper of shellfish and smoked salmon with a glass of sauvignon blanc and the traditional chocolate Yule log for dessert with champagne. I plead exhaustion when my parents went to midnight church. Church was something I’d lost interest in.
“Remember to put your shoes in front of the fireplace,” my father said with a wink. “Pêre Noel will be here soon.”
I smiled. “I am no longer a child, Papa.”
I enjoyed my visit, but I wondered what Keith was doing. He mentioned being on the outs with his biological parents but didn’t say why. He was spending Christmas with Ryan’s family. I missed his quirky sense of humor, him poking fun of my small size and making me laugh. Still, I wasn’t ready to tell my parents about him.
Aimee and I insisted on returning to London on the thirtieth. Spending New Year’s Eve watching a Piss Ants’ concert was more exciting than spending it in a small coastal town. My mother tried pressuring me to stay. “We’ve always spent holidays together. London isn’t safe on New Year’s Eve.”
My father, bless him, came to my rescue and believed my bluff that I was returning early to be rested up when school began on second January. I always felt my father understood me better. I was definitely a daddy’s girl.
It being cold and very windy, we left early, lest hovercraft service be suspended due to turbulent seas, leaving us stranded.
Thankfully the hovercraft wasn’t canceled, although it did its own rock and roll dance across the white peaks. The wind whipped the water into swirls that slammed against the windows. With the cold wind lashing us, the hovercraft finally docked and we headed to the train station on wobbly legs. After the hour-long train ride and the Tube home, we finally staggered to our bed sit by late afternoon. Keith huddled in the entrance smoking, clutching his tattered leather jacket as the wind whisked around him. I wondered how he knew when we’d be home.
Seeing us, he jumped up. “I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere?”
I was loaded with two bags and a backpack. “I need to take my things upstairs.”
He tossed his cigarette to the ground. “We’ll put them in the boot of my car.” He took my bags, unlocked the boot and tossed them in. He then opened the passenger door for me.
Aimee managed to pull me aside. “Does it seem like he’s stalking you?”
I shrugged.
“Be careful. I see a couple empty beer bottles here. He might have been drinking.”
I nodded, slipped into the car and slammed the door. Since Aimee mentioned it, I was now slightly apprehensive about Keith’s state of mind. He seemed agitated. I was willing to take the chance, though. I’d missed him so much. “Are you okay?”
“Now that you’re back I am. I missed you something terrible.” He thrust the car in gear and we zoomed into traffic.
“Are you okay to drive?”
“I’m fine. I only had a couple of beers.”
So Aimee was right. I chose my words carefully. “Maybe we should go somewhere.”
“I know what I’m doing, but we can go to my place.”
I’d been alone with him before at his flat. I could trust him. His small one-room flat wasn’t much bigger than the bed sit I shared with Aimee, except he had a small kitchen and private bathroom. There was even a doorman and lush furnishings in the lobby.
Inside his flat a few dirty dishes, empty beer bottles and some dirty clothes lay on the floor. An electric and acoustic guitar leaned on a far wall. Posters of The Sex Pistols, The Clash and The Who, to name a few,
Posters of The Sex Pistols, The Clash and the Who to name a few, plastered the walls and ceiling. Several trophies adorned what little shelving existed. I studied them. They were all awards for piano playing. I sat in the windowsill while Keith flopped on his bed and plucked his guitar. “I missed you. I wished you could have called.”
“I would have, but I haven’t told my parents about us. They’re paranoid something will happen to me in the big city.”
Keith placed his guitar on the bed and lit another cigarette. “Fuck parents. I tried to make a go of it with my dad.”
“Well, my parents are fine. It’s taking them awhile to accept I’ve grown up though.”
“I doubt my parents will ever understand me.”
“What about your mum? You never talk about her.”
He took a long drag and looked down. “I want nothing to do with either of them. My dad just wants to control me. I had a row with ‘im this morning.”
“About what?”
“I told you, he’s controlling me. Oh, never mind. You probably wouldn’t understand given your great childhood.”
“So you had what? A rotten childhood? That doesn’t mean I can’t understand. Talking to me might help.”
“I haven’t been able to with anyone except Ryan. But he knew anyway because his parents took me in when I was a kid. Then my parents went to court and got me back like a piece of property.”
I wanted to sit close to him, but didn’t want to seem forward. I chanced it anyway, crossed the room and sat beside him. “Did your father abuse you?”
Keith set his guitar on the bed. “My dad didn’t, no. But he’s a hotshot corporate barrister and was barely around. He’s getting ready to retire early and figures he can start his parental duties, since he doesn’t have work occupying his time.”
“What was the row about?”
“I received a letter from my bank notifying me of a trust fund my paternal grandparents left me before they died. I didn’t know about it because my dad kept it a secret so he could continue controlling me. He says I should invest it and let him continue supporting me. It’s more than enough to keep my flat and car. I haven’t decided about the academy. It depends on what happens with the band. But now I don’t have to do what my dad wants.”
“How much money?”
“Five hundred thousand pounds.”
I gasped. “Merde! Is this money to be used as you want?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t fucking stop my dad from telling me what to do with it. He and my mum always wished I’d become a concert pianist and don’t agree with my dreams of being in a punk band and my dad gets on me for everything, especially my drinking.”
“Well, someone should. Especially if you’re out driving.”
“I only drink beer.”
“Last time I checked, beer was alcohol.”
He sighed. “I’m not a drunk.”
“Well if you’d like a sympathetic ear, call me any time. I’m a good listener.”A smile crept slowly across his face as he ground his cigarette in a near-by ashtray. He started kissing me. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him back. Our kissing grew more intense. A tingling sensation rippled through my body when his hand went inside my blouse. I wanted more — yet was scared to death. His hand roamed up my skirt and he tried peeling off my knickers. I realized I wasn’t ready to go beyond kissing and heavy fondling. I pushed myself free. “No, not yet.
“Come on, we’ve been seeing each other practically every day for a month.”
“I want to take things slower.”
Keith collapsed against the wall. “Fuckin’ aye!”
“Besides,” I justified, “I’m inexperienced and don’t carry birth control.” I remembered my mother’s words, don’t trust that to the boy. “I know you have girls throw themselves at you . . .”
“You think that I only want you for a quick shag? I’ve only been with two girls. They were groupies and one night stands and I only did it because my mates pressured me. That was over a year ago – and the memory repulses me. I was never interested in anyone that way until you showed up. You always came with your girlfriend, so I assumed you were unattached. I tried finding a way to get to know you without you thinking me a complete twat. Finally Ryan got frustrated and went to find you that night you came backstage.”
We kissed again, and again things got intense. I was so tempted to go further, but when Keith’s hand again roamed up my skirt, I knew I wasn’t ready. I pushed him away again. “I said I’m not ready.”
“Believe me, you’re the only girl I want to be with.”
“I think I should go,” I said, straightening myself out.
“No, don’t. I’ll take you out to eat. I have to be at Ryan’s for practice in an hour. You can tag along.”
“I’d best get home. I have to change clothes anyway.”
My heart knew Keith was the one, yet something deeper told me to slow down. I hoped I wasn’t setting myself up for heartbreak. Keith had many issues and I wanted to help him. I really wanted this relationship to work.
[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]
