‘I’ll respect that you don’t want to talk about it,’ Gloria says, ‘but whatever it is, you can always talk to me.’
‘What about?’ Ray leans casually against the doorframe.
‘Not for your ears, mister.’ Gloria’s voice is suddenly, dramatically bright and light, and though William knows she’s doing this to protect him, he’s annoyed that Ray has put an end to their conversation.
‘I’ll mind my own business then,’ Ray says, unperturbed by the brush-off. ‘So’ – he grins and rubs his hands together – ‘still on for the dance tonight?’
William remembers a dance being mentioned, but he can’t dance, or compete with Ray’s constant charm offensive, so he said no.
‘You bet,’ Gloria says, picking up the bag she left on the floor. ‘You coming, William?’
‘No, not tonight.’ He turns his back on them to rinse his cup under the tap.
‘Pity,’ she says, ‘got myself a new pair of shoes specially.’
40
It’s nearly two weeks since that unfinished conversation, two weeks since Gloria and Ray went dancing. It’s been raining all day, and there’s a bare tree branch that taps on the dark bedroom window with each gust of wind. Ray’s at the cinema with a cousin who’s in London for two days and Gloria’s downstairs watching telly with her parents. William is at peace. If Gloria and Ray are out together, he can’t settle. He tries to lose himself in his studies and sometimes it works, but when the front door finally opens and they’re home, he realises that the gentle click and grind of the key in the lock is what he’s been waiting for. Then he has to contend with Ray coming to bed, but at least when he’s in their room, he’s not with Gloria.
The branch scratches the window again at the same time as a gentle knock at his door. For a moment, he’s confused.
‘Hello?’
The door opens slowly, shushing across the carpet. ‘All right if I come in?’
‘Of course.’ He tries to look casual, though Gloria has never come into his room before.
She leans on the door she’s quietly closed behind her. The red cable-knit jumper is bulky, leading him to imagine the hidden contours of her upper body.
‘Everything all right?’ Gloria, normally so at ease with herself, is subdued, awkward.
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘I miss our chats.’
‘Me too.’ He makes a long job of putting his pens and ruler in the jam jar on the desk, concentrating on his hands. ‘They’re really piling the work on.’
‘You could take half an hour’s break, couldn’t you?’ She gathers her glossy hair in one hand and coils it round her fingers. ‘Just a quick chat over cocoa, William, I’m not asking for the whole evening.’
‘I’m sure Ray would be happy to oblige.’ The barb is out before he can stop it.
‘Yes, William’ – there’s a sting in her voice now too, and she’s no longer leaning against the door – ‘but I was talking about you, not Ray. And in any case’ – her face is all frustration now – ‘why can’t the three of us be in a room together!’
‘He moans if I keep the light on to study, so I have to get it done before he goes to bed.’ He hates how he sounds, hates the crinkle at the top of Gloria’s nose, drawing her dark eyebrows together, but he can’t stop. ‘And frankly, I’m with him all day. Why would I want to stand around in the kitchen with him in the evening as well?’
‘Because I’m there too?’ Her voice hardens to match his; her arms fold quickly across her chest. William’s shocked at how angry she suddenly is. ‘I came to tell you two things.’ Her voice is loud enough to make William worry that Mr and Mrs Finch will hear. ‘First, I miss talking to you, but you clearly have your reasons for staying away. Second, Ray has asked me to go out with him.’ She’s glaring at him. His eyes keep dropping to the carpet but he forces them back up to her face. ‘Proper, like,’ she says, ‘and I just wanted to see if you had anything to say about that.’
What to say? He stares at her now. What to say? They consider each other in a stony, hard silence and a coldness cascades through his insides, as if Matron is under his skin giving him the dips. But, miraculously, his shoulders rise, as if of their own accord, in a casual shrug.
‘I thought you already were. Do what you like, Gloria.’
Apart from a slight shift in her jaw, Gloria remains motionless, her green eyes boring into him. When she speaks at last, her voice is entirely different; soft and quiet, and not quite hers.