1993
Mark returned two hours later. He was wearing a blazer. An actual blazer. To go to the Ridinghouse Grand.
‘What’s on?’ Tony asked, seeing them off at the door.
‘Cliffhanger,’ Mark replied, his hand in the small of Kirsty’s back.
‘Oh, yeah, that’s supposed to be thrilling,’ said Tony.
‘So I’ve heard,’ says Mark.
Kirsty was edging out of the door, looking keen to be on her way. She’d claimed under heavy questioning from Gray that she really did want to go to the cinema and that Gray was imagining things when he’d suggested that she hadn’t looked that keen earlier.
At the sound of their voices disappearing up the street towards town he jumped to his feet. His mum was cooking spaghetti in the kitchen and he stuck his head around to the door to say that he was popping out to buy a bottle of Coke.
‘We’ve got Sprite,’ she said.
‘I want Coke.’
‘Well then, can you get a lump of cheddar while you’re at it?’
Kirsty and Mark had been walking slowly and he was able to catch up with them halfway to the high street without running. They’d stopped to look in the window of an antique shop. There was a display of old china dolls and they were talking about how spooky they were. Mark again put his hand into the small of Kirsty’s back and gently guided her onwards towards the cinema.
He watched from a distance as Mark held the doors open for his sister and gallantly ushered her through. And then they were gone.
Mark brought Kirsty home at ten. Gray could hear them from his bedroom over the street. There was a kind of heaviness about their voices, as though they were on the verge of an argument. He peeled his curtain back a little and peered down on to the crowns of their heads. He saw Mark try to kiss her and he saw Kirsty duck to avoid the kiss.
‘Oh, come on,’ he heard Mark say. ‘Not one single kiss throughout that whole ridiculous movie. And now not even a little one outside your door? That’s not very kind.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m really tired. I just want to go to bed.’
‘You can go to bed very, very soon, I promise,’ he said, looming towards her again with puckered lips.
She ducked away again and said, ‘Honestly. I’m shattered.’
‘Really?’ he said in a disbelieving tone and Gray heard him tut under his breath. Then: ‘What about tomorrow?’ He sounded sulky, petulant almost. ‘Or are you going on another day trip?’
And there it was, the kernel of everything that Gray had been feeling uncomfortable about all week. Mark thought they were amusingly provincial. He thought he was better than them. Yet he was pursuing his sister as though she was the love of his life.
‘I don’t know,’ he heard Kirsty reply. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Well then, shall I come and call for you? We could spend the day at my aunt’s. I’ll make you lunch.’
‘I don’t know,’ she repeated. ‘I need to ask Mum and Dad.’
‘Can you ask them now?’ His tone was clipped and impatient.
‘I’ll ask tomorrow.’
‘Why not now?’
‘It’s late. I’m tired.’
He heard Mark tut again and then say, ‘Fine. I’ll call round tomorrow morning. You can tell me then.’
His sister hesitated and then said, ‘OK. See you tomorrow.’
The door clicked shut behind her and Gray heard her talking quietly with their parents before going straight to bed. Through his bedroom window, Gray watched as Mark stood for a moment or two outside Rabbit Cottage, his hands in his pockets, staring darkly at the front door, the muscles in his hollowed-out cheeks twitching slightly. Then he turned and crossed the narrow cobbled street, looked out to sea for a moment before suddenly and fearsomely kicking the sea wall, once, twice, three times, then finally heading away from the cottage, a thin, angry silhouette disappearing from view into the misty summer’s night.