Danny barely glanced up, still crouched over by the beer kegs. I don’t smoke.
Neither do I.
Not unless I can blag em off someone, that is.
I grinned. Same.
He looked up at me then, his eyes squinting against the sun as he took me in, but nothing he saw seemed to impress him and he turned back to what he’d been doing. I took a few steps toward him, perched myself up on one of the wooden bench-tables.
What you doin?
What’s it look like?
Looks like nowt I’ve ever seen before. Looks mental in fact. But I like it, still.
I sensed him smile then and he stood, moved toward me, pausing before pulling himself up next to where I sat.
See this? he said, twirling the stem of a leaf between his fingers. I nodded. Ivy. He lifted it so that it was level with our noses. Bet you don’t see a lotta this where you’re from, do yer?
They’ve got bushes in Leeds, yer div.
He laughed. Yeah, but not as many as round here.
Danny’s interest piqued, and he tilted his face up from under his cap as though to get a better look at me. I kicked my legs back and forth, exposed under his gaze, aware of how much more he knew about me than I did about him. I’d felt like that earlier too, when Chrissy had stepped forward in the kitchen to give Mary a stiff hug. It had dawned on me then that I was the only stranger in the room. That Chrissy knew all these people already, that her life here had already begun.
What you starin at? I snapped in the end.
Nowt, he said. Just seein yer.
I pulled my legs into my chest, trying to cover the freckles on my knees, the dirt on my forearm. The smile in his eyes unnerved me and I reached forward, tipped the cap back from his head so that it fell onto the table behind him. Danny’s lips stretched into a grin.
There y’are. You can get a proper look at me now, and all.
It irked me, how cocky he was. I wanted him to feel some of the discomfort I did and so I screwed up my nose. Your hair’s messy.
A flicker of self-consciousness passed across his face as he ran his hand across the mass of tight black coils. I shave it off usually, he shrugged, pulling the cap back on, but lower this time so that it was almost covering his eyes. But me dad said if I grow it, he’ll take me to get it done.
Looks long enough to me.
Yeah. He kicked the heels of his feet against the bench below us. Just dunno when he’s comin back.
I leaned back against the rusted umbrella pole that pierced the center of the table. Someone had carved the words Si Dudley ’98 into the wooden slats of the bench where the varnish was peeling away in strips. Where’s he gone? I asked.
Who, me dad? He’s busy, man. Got a lot on, innit?
I nodded, rolling a strip of varnish between my forefinger and thumb and flicking it out of sight into the grass.
Mine too.
We stayed out there together until the end of Mary’s shift and, when Danny left, I headed back upstairs to the apartment. Stretching out on my new bed, I pulled my notebook from the waistband of my shorts, scrawled a story about a boy who had magical powers and could talk to plants. The minute I’d finished I ripped it out, shredded it with my hands and threw the scraps into the purple plastic bin in the corner of the room. Up until that moment, Chrissy had been the only person I’d ever written about, the only person who mattered to me. I didn’t understand what it meant, to feel for anyone other than my mam.
The next morning I woke early, crept over to the window, my stomach flipping at the sight of Danny already there. Quietly I padded down the stairs and outside, chucked him a cig as I walked past. Danny frowned.
Where d’you get this from?
Chrissy’s bag. I shrugged, sparking up and passing him the lighter. He took it, toying the flint with his thumb.
Chrissy? he asked, puzzled.
Yeah.
Danny kept his eyes on me for a moment longer, then threw the lighter back without using it and turned to the kegs again.
What you doin? I asked after a while.
Same thing I were doin yesterday.
We were quiet then. Danny’s mood was hard to read and the silence made me fidgety, uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to it. Where I came from, there was always noise. I started chatting on, mithering him with so many questions about what and why and how that in the end he sighed, beckoned me over with a nod, told me I might as well come and look with my own eyes rather than peck his head all day.
At the beginning I would just watch Danny, the way he handled the roots of each plant, how he’d consider every leaf and stem and then marry them together, pairing upright stalks with trailing leaves, blending and tinkering like a shaman casting a spell. But as the days wore on, he began to talk, teach, using names and terms and language I’d never heard before. Me, who considered myself better with words than any kid I’d ever met. Chlorosis. Begonia. Ericaceous. Clematis. In the beginning I took the mick, tried to make out he sounded daft, but only because I didn’t know what else to do. Before long I had quietened, his manner drawing me into silence, listening intently. I was enraptured by all the things he knew, how clever he was. And I could tell he liked me being there too.
What’s that? Danny asked one day not long after we’d first met as I peered over the kegs. I looked down, saw my notebook poking out of the waistband of my shorts. My cheeks flushed and I shirked back, yanking my T-shirt over the top of it.
Nowt, I snapped and he drew back in surprise.
Whoa, all right. Keep yer knickers on.
It’s just summat I like to do, I mumbled after a while. Summat weird. Like you.
What d’you mean, like me?
Like you. With yer weird plant stuff. I like…I dunno. I like writin stuff down.
What sort of stuff?
I dipped my head. Stories, mostly.
About what?
About…all sorts really. Different things. Like what it would be like to be someone different. To live a different life, be a different person.
The silence fell between us, longer this time, and I didn’t dare look up for fear of what I might see on Danny’s face.
That int weird, he said eventually. I like that.