happen if her parents lock her up for acting like a kid.’
‘I hate when you’re all sensible,’ Megan pouted.
‘Me too. I prefer it when you’re the stick in the mud and I’m the super fun one,’ he grinned, ‘so let’s return to our regularly scheduled programming, shall we?’
***
A little while later, Megan jumped up in shock, finding herself asleep in Lucas’ bed.
‘Shit!’ She started looked for her clothes. ‘My parents are going to kill me for being out this late!’
Lucas burst out laughing, watching her trying to untangle her underwear.
‘What?’ she asked, pulling them on and doing up her bra.
‘Just…nostalgia. Some things don’t change however old you are.’
‘Hey, their house, their rules,’ she grinned, moving back to kiss him. ‘This was really…something.’
He held her chin and kissed her again. ‘It really was. Up for a few more walks down memory lane before you go back to London?’
‘We never did that on memory lane!’ Megan pulled her dress over her head, turning around for Lucas to zip her up. ‘But yes, I would love to spend some more time with you.’
‘Good. I’d love to hang out with Skye too, sometime. If that’s okay…’
He watched as Megan pursed her lips, thoughtful, pulling up her leggings.
‘Don’t have to though, we can keep this just about us. I know trusting other people with your daughter is a big deal.’
‘I trust you,’ she shrugged, tailing off.
‘Either way, it sounds good to me,’ Lucas said softly, kissing her palm. ‘You going now?’
‘Well, as soon as you’re ready to drive me,’ she said primly, ‘I can’t be seen leaving Lucas Bright’s house at…two am! The scandal!’
He stood up wearily, reaching for his underwear. ‘Anything to keep your reputation intact, kid.’
***
September 2002
They were sitting in her room. She was lying on the bed, feet up against the wall, and he was across the room in her armchair, rolling a cigarette.
‘You can’t smoke that in here,’ she said for the hundredth time.
‘I know.’
‘So why bother?’
‘Something to do?’ Luke shrugged, examining his black painted fingernails.
They sat around, unsure of what to do any more. School was about to start again, and something had shifted over the summer. Megan had started dating Greg, the boy from the baker’s, and Luke was sort-of-almost-nearly seeing this girl who worked at Blockbusters. They’d pretty much spent their summer buying cakes and watching movies, each nudging the other forward in the quest to find someone to stick their tongue down your throat. Fliss was about eighteen, had tattoos and piercings, and looked permanently unimpressed with the world. But she did lend them certificate 18 movies with no questions asked, so Lucas thought it must be love. Greg was in their year at school, one of those rugby boys with the winning smile. They’d known him before his growth spurt, back when he’d been this normal shy sort of boy. Then suddenly he was six foot, the braces came off and he had abs. He was the dream scenario for all those Year nine boys just desperately hoping that they were the lucky duckling who was destined to be a swan. Even if it meant getting bashed in the head by a bunch of posh gits every Sunday.
‘We need to do something!’ Megan growled, bored out of her mind. Tomorrow there would be school and GCSEs, coursework and nothing else but ‘focus, Megan, focus’.
‘We do stuff!’
‘We listen to music and watch dumb movies, and talk about the same shit over and over! I want to do something that will change something.’
‘Write a book,’ he shrugged.
‘More work, no thanks.’
‘Paint? Collage? Macramé?’ Lucas listed the things his mother had picked up and dropped each month for the last year. ‘Pottery? Candle-making? Stamp collecting?’
Megan sat up. ‘Hey! How about you teach me to play guitar?’
Lucas looked up from underneath his dark eyelashes. ‘You can’t be serious.’
She shrugged.
‘Meg, I love ya, honestly mate, but…you think I could teach you something without us wanting to kill each other?’
She fluttered her eyelashes and trembled her bottom lip, thinking of her dad’s acoustic guitar downstairs. ‘It could be fun…’
‘It could be hell.’
‘All right, you play, I’ll sing,’ she compromised, ‘pick something.’
‘Megan, I’ve known you for almost ten years – when have you ever sung anything? Except belting out “Summer of ’69” when it comes on the radio? Which sounds terrible.’
Megan widened her eyes and just grinned. ‘Try me.’
***
The next couple of days passed quickly enough, with Heather doing at least three more ‘last minute’ shops for things that were apparently absolutely necessary. The girls for the most part read their books, went wandering around the village, baked gingerbread cookies, listened to music with Jonathan, or played guitar.
‘Is this right?’ Skye looked at her fingers, stretching across the frets. Megan adjusted them a little, then nodded.
‘Is it uncomfortable?’
Skye nodded.
‘Then it’s right.’
‘Wasn’t this painful when Trouble was teaching me,’ Skye said slyly, strumming a little with a leopard-print plectrum Megan had found in her jewellery box upstairs. ‘Is he going to show me any more?’
‘You want him to?’ Megan asked casually.
‘Sure, he was good.’
So Megan asked, and around Lucas came to sit in their living room with his acoustic guitar, and a pocket amp for Skye. Jonathan nodded, and shook his hand. ‘Good to have you back around, son. Sorry for all that messy business.’
That
