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Roll your own, Laetitia says, and clicks her lighter. A yellow flame comes up from the end a the wee thin roll-up, then settles down. She leans back on her elbows on the bed with her fag in her mouth.

  Here, Danny says, and he pours wine into the other toothbrush glass and hands it to Julian. Get that down you. Then he takes the Coke can off us and sits down on the bed beside Laetitia. I don’t know how he does it, but he manages to pour a thin stream of wine from the wide neck of the carafe into the hole on top a the can without spillin any.

  Bravo! Laetitia says. Only it sounds more like Vravo! with her fag still in. She sits up and claps her hands and takes the roll-up out her mouth.

  Here, Clare, Danny says, and hands me the Coke can. I wish it was Coke in it instead a wine – I’m thirsty. And the wine’s no sweet like the kind I’ve drank afore at parties in Glasgow. But I take it anyway. There’s nowhere for me to sit except on Danny’s bed. Beside Julian.

  He must’ve saw me standin wonderin what to do, but he doesny budge; he’s still takin up most of the bed, leanin back on his hands, his legs spread wide, his eyes starin straight ahead. Danny and Laetitia are sitting close thegether on my bed. He’s pourin more wine into her glass. I looks at Julian again and I sit down on the end a the bed. Danny and Laetitia are lookin into each other’s eyes singin: ‘Little Old Wine Drinker Me’.

  I get a fright when I open my eyes cause it’s pitch-black and I don’t know where I am. I’m lyin there tryin to figure it out when I hear the snufflin noise in the room like somebody wae a bad cold.

  Danny, I says, is that you? No answer. I remember there’s a light above my bed, so I feel about for the cord and pull it. The room comes on like a headache and Our Lady’s lookin down fae the white wall. Danny, I says again. But when I look over it’s Julian’s dreads I see on the pillow. It’s Julian makin the funny noises. He’s cryin.

  I get out my bed. I don’t even remember taking my clothes off last night. I just remember gettin dead tired and closin my eyes when Danny an them were drinkin an talkin. I don’t remember putting on my big T-shirt either. I pull it down over my knickers and go over to the other bed.

  Julian, I says, you OK? Julian? All I can see are his dreads like a big tangled nest. I touch his shoulder. Julian? He turns over with his dreads all over his face and he shades his eyes and looks up at me.

  Clare, I’m … I’m… I just… And then he bursts out greetin really loud and he’s sobbin and snotters is comin out his nose. He’s a pure mess.

  Julian, what’s wrong? I says. But he can’t stop cryin. I go over and get my rucksack at the end of my bed and pull out a big wad of paper hankies.

  Here look, I says. And he takes some and rubs his nose but he just spreads the snotters all over his face. And there’s a line like a snail trail across his dreads. Julian, wait a minute. I sit down on the bed beside him and wipe the mess off his face and dab at his dreads.

  What’s the matter?

  Oh Clare, Clare… He reaches up and grabs my wrists. I drop the hankies on the floor. Clare, oh Clare, oh Clare… he says. And he puts my hand up to his mouth and kisses the palm. His moustache tickles me. Clare, you won’t tell Danny or Laetitia about this, will you? Please. He’s still heavin in between words.

  No, I says, I won’t tell them. And he pulls me down on top of him and he buries his face in my hair.

  Oh, Clare, you’re an angel, he says, and his voice is dead thick. He’s still got his combat jacket on and all his clothes.

  It’s OK, Julian, I says. You’re alright. It’s OK. And I try to get up.

  Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.

  No, I won’t, I won’t. But look, you would feel better wae your jacket off. And your boots.

  Don’t leave me, don’t leave me.

  I struggle out his grip, get off the bed and go to his feet. See, I’ll just get your boots off. I undo the laces and pull the big scuffed brown Docs off his feet.

  Pooh, I say, smelly socks! But they areny really. It’s just what I used to say to my da when I was wee every time I took his boots off when he came in from work. I thought it might make Julian laugh, but he’s still lyin there moanin. I set the Docs on the floor quietly.

  There, is that no better? Sit up now and we’ll get your jacket off. And he does sit up. I’m amazed. I unzip it and start to ease it over his shoulders. Come on now, you’ve got to help me, I says. And he starts shufflin his shoulders, shruggin it off.

  Clare, will you stay with me tonight? he says.

  I take his jacket and lay it on top of his boots. Well, I’m no goin anywhere, am I?

  No, but will you stay with me? Here? And he lays the flat of his hand on the bed.

  I look at his face. His eyes are even bluer in all that red puffiness and the dark bits underneath are like bruises. I sit down beside him.

  Aye, I’ll stay.

  He gives a wee kinda gulp like you do when you’ve been cryin a long time and says, Clare. You’re an angel! A beautiful red-haired angel. He pulls me down onto the bed beside him. His face is right close to mine now. The most beautiful red-haired angel in a red T-shirt in all of Florence. And he puts his hand up inside it and touches my navel stud.

  Aahh, he says. His breath smells sorta sweet and sorta sour and I’ve got a funny feeling in my belly. He slides his finger down and hooks it in the top of my knickers.

  Wait, Julian, I says. I’ve never did this before.

  Oh, my sweet, sweet Clare. He starts kissin me all over my face, on my eyes and my nose and my mouth. His dreads fall onto me and it’s like lookin through the branches of a tree. And then he lets go the band of my knickers and puts his tongue in my ear. And he moves his hand up and plays with my stud. Then further up and touches my nipple. Then he takes my breast in his hand and like, just holds it. And strokes it. Oh, Clare, let me see you, he says. And he starts to pull my T-shirt up. He leans on one elbow and his dreads are fallin down so I can’t see his face. He folds my T-shirt up over my belly and over my boobs.

  Ohhh, he says, you’re so lovely. And he holds me again, first one, then the other. And then he starts to kiss me and lick me. No on my face this time, but like on my breasts and my nipples and my belly and I don’t know where else. All over. I don’t remember where.

  Then…

  I feel his tongue inside me, right inside me, and I’m all wet and swollen and I want him further in. I can hear moanin and it must be me, it must be me. And then I don’t know what happens. He’s took his tongue out and he’s lickin me down there and lickin and lickin. I stuff the sheet in my mouth and then it happens, oh God it happens and it’s…

  When it’s died down I’m cryin and shakin and Julian’s came back up beside me and he’s saying, Shh, Clare, it’s alright, it’s alright, in between kissing my tears.

  That was…

  Shhh…

  That was so… Oh my God… I’ve never…

  And I put my arms round him and hug him tight.

  You’ve got such a sweet cunt, Clare. Do you know that? A sweet, sweet cunt. He untangles my right hand from his dreads and puts it on the front of his trousers. It’s hard. He moves my hand up and down. I know what to do now. I unzip him and put my hand inside his pants and hold him. I’ve never had one in my hand. Only felt it pressin against me when I was snoggin some boy at the club. It feels dead big. And hard. A bit scary. But I keep holdin it and Julian takes my hand and moves it up and down. I get a fright cause I feel like the skin might come off, slide off like the doobies you see lyin in the lane at the back of the scheme. But Julian keeps my hand there, movin up and down. He’s startin to groan and then suddenly he holds my hand tight and stops it.

  Clare, can I come inside you? he says. Please?

  And I’m like, Yes. I want him to do that to me again.

  He slides his jeans and pants down past his knees and pushes them and his socks off the rest of the way with his feet. I look down at him. His thing is standin up dead straight in front of his belly. It looks funny. The top is red and
shiny with like this wee hole. His balls are red too and kinda sore-lookin under the hair. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I reach down and put my hand round it again and I open my legs.

  We both hear the voices outside on the landing at the same time and Julian dives on top of me and pulls the sheet up over us.

  Shh, he says.

  I don’t breathe.

  The voices get louder. A man and a woman. I can’t hear what they’re sayin, but I don’t think it’s English.

  It doesny sound like Danny, I says, whisperin. He’ll be sleepin in Laetitia’s room.

  Oh Christ, Julian says. Oh Christ, oh Christ, oh Jesus fucking Christ! He sits up. The voices go past the door.

  What’s the matter? I say.

  Nothing. Nothing… Everything.

  I sit up too. Julian’s shakin his head. Everything, everything… His dreads swing round and hit me on the face, like skippin ropes hittin your bare legs in the playground. I hold his head and stop it movin.

  Julian, what is it? He looks at me a long time. His eyes are still red.

  Oh fuck! He takes my hands off him and jumps off the bed. He’s only got a shirt on and a T-shirt. I look down at him, at his thing. It’s wee now and pink and sort of crumpled. Peepin out at the edge of his white T-shirt. I think I’m goin to cry again. He grabs his clothes from the end of the bed and pulls on his pants. And then his jeans. Then he sits on the bed, unrolls his socks and plunges his feet in. He reaches round for his boots, sets them in front of him and swivels them on like he’s stubbin out a cigarette. He stands up. He’s no even did up the laces and he’s pickin up his jacket and walkin to the door. He opens it. Then he turns.

  It’s not you, Clare. It’s just… I can’t… He stops and looks at me. You’re a lovely girl, Clare. It’s not you, believe me… and if… I’m sorry, Clare… I’ve got to go.

  And he’s went.

  I sit looking at the closed door for ages.

  When I wake up, I’m scared. There’s a key really loud in the lock. The door opens and the light goes on. But it’s only Danny.

  OK, kid. Breakfast, he says, and he claps his hands and rubs them thegether. I keep my eyes half closed. He looks dead happy. You never see him this happy at home.

  What time is it?

  It’s twenty to nine. Time to rise and shine. Here, I’m a poet! He walks over to the window and bends the shutters back. Sun comes pourin in. It’s a crackin day! Chilly, but. Good demo weather. The gods are smilin on us.

  You been out already?

  You’re rootin tootin I have. Come on. Cappuccino and brioches await you.

  What’s bree-osh?

  They learn you nothin in that school these days? It’s like croissants. Some with jam in, some with chocolate. All mouth-wateringly delicious! He’s talkin like Julian again.

  Where’s… everybody else?

  Laetitia’s in the dinin room on her fourth espresso. Julian’s no appeared yet. Come on, come on. You’ll miss the best of the day.

  You sound just like my da. I fling the duvet off and head for the bathroom.

  I’m goin to have a shower.

  You and your showers, Clare. Too much washin can be bad for you.

  You sound exactly like my da. I close the door behind me.

  Danny shouts through it, See you down the stairs. Don’t be long; breakfast is only on till nine thirty.

  I’ve never saw Danny like this.

  I look in the mirror over the sink. My coldsore’s a lot better. It’s shrank quite a bit. My hair’s a mess, but. I pull some of the red tangles out with my fingers and smooth it down. I’m glad it’s grew again; maybe I’ll let it get really long this time. One of the toothbrush glasses is back in the metal bracket with a circle of dried red wine in the bottom and browny-pink lipstick marks on the side.

  Or maybe I’ll get it cut like Laetitia’s. She just runs her fingers through hers and gives her head a wee shake and it falls back into place. As if she’s just walked out the hairdresser’s. It’s worth payin extra for a good cut, my ma says. Saves you in the long run.

  I pull my T-shirt up over my boobs and tuck it under my chin. I hold one boob in one hand and one in the other and look at them in the mirror. Even though they’re no that big, they feel heavy. I think about Julian. My face gets hot and I turn away. I pull my T-shirt off over my head and step in the shower cubicle.

  The white tiles are cold. I lean my cheek against them and close my eyes. The things we done last night come back dead strong and I get a warm melty feeling low down in my belly. I turn the shower on quick and the water’s pure freezin. I gasp but I stay under it till it gets warm. Then I let it run and run over my head and face for ages. I’ve forgot to take my shampoo in with me, but there’s a wee bar of soap on a dish inset in the tiles and I take the waxy pink paper off. It smells like roses. I run it under the water and rub it between my hands till it gets lathery. Then I rub the suds all over my hair and my body and I think about Julian. The feelin in my belly turns into a kind of an ache like period pains and I want him to touch me down there again. I put my hand on my pubes and I curl my finger round. I don’t like the feel of it but. All the wee bits. Heather McLaren at school says she’s saw hers. Looked at it in a mirror between her legs. Farkhanda and me didny believe her at first, but she says, Honest, it’s true; her mother told her how to do it. They are a bit weird, right enough. Live in a bought house and it’s pure manky. And her ma has straggly grey hair and wears like long purple skirts with bells and embroidery on. Find your clitoris, she says to Heather, and you’ll never need a man for sexual gratification. Good job she doesny see the way Heather chases Scott Wilson.

  My hair’s still wet when I walk into the dinin room. The B&B guy with the smiley face is standing at a big silver coffee machine with a cup in his hand. Steam’s hissin out and there’s a strong coffee smell. He looks round and smiles at me.

  Ah, buon giorno, signorina, he says.

  Bon jurno, I say back.

  You like cappuccino? And he points to the coffee machine. Is our new espresso maker, he says, and he pats the top of it like it’s a wean and looks at me dead proud.

  Yes… grazie.

  Please. Sit. I bring to you.

  I look round the tables. Most of them are empty. Danny and Laetitia are sittin at one in front of a big window. They’re holdin hands on top of it, leanin towards one another, talkin low. The sun’s shinin in on them and Laetitia’s hands are whiter than ever on the green cloth.

  Hi, I says.

  They look surprised to see me, then Laetitia smiles and takes her hand out of Danny’s.

  Hi, Clare. Do come and join us.

  Yes, do, Danny says. And Laetitia laughs and gives his hand a swipe. What kept you? Danny says. Sit down, I’ll get you a coffee.

  I’ve already ordered one off the guy. I sit down facin the window. It’s right on the street and folk are walkin past, talkin loud.

  The B&B guy comes over with my coffee and a wee basket with three pastry things in. Cappuccino e brioches, he says, and sets them on the table. Buon appetito. He smiles at me again and goes back to his shiny machine.

  Oh good, Danny says, wan each.

  Greedy boy, you’ve had yours, Laetitia says. These are for Clare. Her dark eyes are turned to me and she smiles. Did you have a good night?

  I wish I could stop it but I can’t. I feel the riddy comin up my neck and right over my face. Yeah, OK.

  Your coldsore looks much better, anyway.

  Aye, that stuff you gave us was great. Thanks.

  Don’t mention it. Better drink your coffee before it gets cold. Right, I’m off to my room to put on my slap; can’t let the side down with this. She makes a face and points to it, then she twinkles her wee white fingers at us. Ciao. See you later.

  Danny’s smilin up at her. Aye, ciao, he says. His eyes follow her across the room. She stops and has a word with the B&B guy and points at his coffee machine. He nods and smiles and says somethin to her. Ciao, she says then
and walks out through the door. Even with her holey black jumper she’s beautiful.

  Danny’s still watchin the door. I spoon some chocolatey foam off my coffee into my mouth. I’m starvin. Some kind of orange jam oozes out the first brioche when I bite into it. It’s warm and sweet and dead light. I eat the rest of it fast and wipe my greasy fingers on my napkin.

  You and Laetitia in love? I mean, are you goin thegether?

  What? He looks at me as if he can’t remember who I am. His eyes are brilliant green in the light. The colour of leaves with the sun through them. In love? Don’t know about lurve, but she’s gorgeous, in’t she? He pulls a face and talks out the side of his mouth. Put it this way, I wouldny fling her outa bed. When he sits back in his chair, his face looks dead soppy, but.

  Better no let my ma hear you talkin like that. I take another brioche out the basket.

  You better no fuckin tell her, he says, and looks back to the door. Julian, my man!

  I nearly jump out my skin. I turn round and he’s walkin towards the table. His dreads are tied back and he looks dead white. Strained. As if he’s no slept. He’s wearin the exact same claes as last night. He sits down in Laetitia’s seat without saying a word.

  You’ve missed breakfast, pal. But maybe my wee sister’ll give you a bite of her brioche.

  Julian looks at me then. Hi Clare, he says, dead low, then looks away.

  Here, have the last one, I says. They’re great. I hold the basket up to him.

  He lifts his hand and shakes his head. A couple of his dreads snake out of the band at the back of his neck and hang down beside his sharp cheekbones. No. Thanks… coffee’s all I need. D’you think they might bend the rules for that?

  Well, why don’t you try your ineffable charm on Mr Abensur? Danny says.

  Who’s Mr Abensur?

  Guy that owns the pensione, ya tadger.

  Julian’s looked up then and his face is even whiter and his eyes are blazin. Who’re you calling tadger, you Glaswegian prick. Even his voice sounds strained. Danny squares his shoulders and sits forward.

  Danny, you’re out of order, I says in a low voice, just like my ma does when him and my da are into wan. Stop it.