“You miss me? What do you miss, exactly? Having a quick grope every now and then?”
“That’s not fair. I missed being with you, Noodle Girl.”
He leans in and lifts my chin with his fingers. When I look into his eyes, I feel all floaty.
We kiss. It’s gentle at first, and then he pulls me onto his lap and neither of us can stop. Even when I accidentally bash his nose with mine and he yelps, we can’t stop. He holds me tightly and all my bad feelings disappear. We are just in the moment, with each other. Until he tries to undo my trousers.
“Stop,” I gasp, still kissing him.
He pulls away.
“Sorry. I got carried away. It’s okay if you’re not ready.”
“How do I know you’re not going to leave again?”
“I won’t leave,” Tay says desperately. “I can’t. Mick gave me my job back at the diving club. I don’t want to leave again.”
“I filled in for you, while you were away.”
“I know,” he says. “I wish I hadn’t gone. We’ll just have to come up with a plan. You’ll have to tell Dillon that I’ve left again. We’ll have to keep this a secret.”
“Forever?” I ask, horrified.
“Not forever. Just until we’ve worked it all out.”
“Worked what out? Why did Dillon react like that? And what’s the deal with you and Danny? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No, El. I swear. I’ll talk to them both, tell them I’m serious about you, that I won’t hurt you again. Just give me some time.”
Back to “El.” The way he says it makes my chest burn.
“Okay,” I say. “Just fix it, and fix it quickly.”
11
THE NEXT DAY, MUM FUSSES OVER DILLON. SHE BRINGS OUT the whole first-aid kit just for one tiny cut.
“Who did this to you?” she asks, rifling through the bandages. I scowl at Dillon.
“Just a misunderstanding,” he says. I silently thank him.
Mum slathers antibiotic cream all over Dillon’s face. I will her to say something about how skinny he is. Surely she must notice that his cheeks are hollow. She must feel how tiny he is when she holds his face. If she notices, then she can be the one to help him.
“Why don’t you lie down, Mum? You look tired,” Dillon says. He wants her away.
“I want to look after you,” she says. “I want to look after both of my babies. You’re growing up too fast.”
“Why don’t you both go and lie on the sofa and I’ll bring you some lunch?”
“Elsie, my darling girl. My sweet children, who want to look after me when their father has gone and deserted us. Look! Look how beautiful it is outside. How can I go to bed on a day like this?”
She grabs her handbag. “I’m just popping out to get us some ice creams.”
“Chocolate for me,” I call.
When she’s gone, I shove the first-aid kit out the way and sit on the table with my feet on Dillon’s lap so he can’t move.
“Does it hurt, poor Dilbil?” I ask nastily.
“You should see the other guy.”
I grab his face, and for a split second he looks frightened, but then he starts laughing. I let him go.
“I have seen the ‘other guy,’ and you’ve probably broken his nose.”
“Good,” Dillon says. “He deserved it.”
“Why? I don’t understand. Did you really mean to do that? For God’s sake, we were just talking.”
Dillon stares at me, like he can’t believe what I’m saying.
“He’s the one who got you into all the diving.”
“So?”
“Can’t you see how dangerous it is? It’s messing with your head, making you think that you’re remembering things that aren’t true.”
“What is it you’re so afraid of, Dil? What do you think I might remember?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing to remember.”
“Yes, there is. I need to remember where Dad went, and I think you already know and you’re covering for him. I remembered that you were looking for someone that day. Not Eddie. Some girl. Who was it?”
Dillon shakes his head. “You’re crazy. You’ve turned into a fish. And I’m going to tell Dad everything. He’s asked me to keep an eye on you—one word from me and he’ll be straight down that harbor putting a stop to all this.”
It takes all my effort not to grab him by the throat. Instead I grit my teeth.
“You tell Dad anything, and I will tell him all about you starving yourself to death, about the laxatives. He’ll drive you to the nearest hospital, and they will lock you up and force-feed you.”
“That’s not allowed these days,” Dillon says. “Force-feeding is torture.”
“It is allowed. It happened to someone in my year.”
Dillon starts to cry. “Please don’t tell Dad. I’ll start eating again.”
“If you eat the sandwich I’m about to make you, and keep your mouth shut about the diving, then I’ll keep quiet.”