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“Do you need anything?” George asked. “Did you eat?”
Lucy nodded, looking up at him from where she sat on her bed.
“For what it’s worth…” he started then stopped. “For what it’s worth I think your mother sounds awful and I wish you didn’t have to go back there. You deserve better.”
If there were any tears left in her she might have cried at that. George sat next to her and hugged her around the shoulders. It was slightly awkward but comforting nonetheless. She leaned her head against his for a long moment. For all his strange peevishness she had grown quite fond of George. She would miss him.
After a long moment he released her. “Right,” he said, slapping his thighs and standing up purposefully. “I’m off.”
“Where?” asked Lucy, her brow furrowing.
“I have an errand to run,” he said, heading for the door. “Don’t wait up.”
He opened the door, then looked back at her one more time. “And don’t forget to eat.”
George waited impatiently in the queue at the TCKT booth. When he got to the front, a young man waved him over and he had to let two other people go ahead of him before the window he wanted was free.
“Georgie!” cried Flo as he hustled up.
“Flo, I need your help,” George said without preamble.
“Why, what’s up? Where’s Locky and his little girlfriend?”
Oh boy.
“Funny you should say that,” said George. “Lockwood and Lucy have had a row and he’s disappeared. I think he’s gone home. To his house, I mean. I need to find him, do you know where it is?”
“Hold up,” Flo said with alarm. “If Locky’s disappeared then he probably wants to be left alone.”
“I don’t care,” George said, trying to keep the frustration and anger from his voice. This wasn’t Flo’s fault after all. “I’ve left him alone all week and look where that’s led.”
“If you push him to open up when he’s not ready he might just block you out completely,” Flo said, not unreasonably.
George sighed. “Somebody needs to fix this and I’m sure it won’t be Lockwood.”
“Georgie,” Flo said kindly, “You can’t make decisions for other people. You’ve got to trust them to figure out what they need.”
“He needs to get his head out of his arse is what he needs. Come on, you’ve seen them together.”
Flo nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, he’s different around her. Any idiot could see that. So I’m sure he hasn’t.”
“Have you ever seen him so… like that? With anyone?” George flailed his hands, willing Flo to understand.
“Sure,” she said, looking away. “But it was a long time ago.”
“Look, there’s no time for them to figure this out. I don’t know exactly what went wrong, but if this doesn’t get fixed soon she’ll leave and we’ll never see her again.” He didn’t know what his friend would do if that happened. He might close off, shut everyone out completely, or it could be much worse.
Flo considered him, her expression closed.
“Please, Flo,” George fairly begged her. “I just want to talk to him. See if there’s anything I can do.”
She sighed. “Fine. But on your own head be it. I get off in an hour, I’ll walk you over. Can’t remember the address off the top of my head.”
Relief washed through him. “Thanks Flo, you’re the best.”
“I know,” she said with a cocky grin.
—
George made use of the time to acquire emergency supplies: doughnuts, biscuits, bags of crisps, and a box of tea just in case. He loitered around the back of the TCKT booth eating a takeaway fish and chips until Flo sashayed out an hour later.
“Right, let’s be off!” she said by way of greeting.
George scurried to catch up and together they walked through central London, in the direction of Regent’s Park.
After a while, George spoke. “Flo, can I ask you something?”
“‘Course you can. Doesn’t mean I’ll give you an answer,” she said.
“Did you know Jessica Lockwood?”
A long pause was all the indication of surprise that Flo gave. “Jessie? Yeah I knew her. We were mates before…” she trailed off.
“And you knew Lockwood then too?”
“Yup. Scrawny little kid always tagging after us. He had her wrapped around his little finger.”
“Did it… did it change him? When she died.”
“In some ways yes, in some ways no. He was always good at hiding his true feelings. He’d be bleeding from falling out of a tree, or whatever, and he’d be biting his lip and telling us he was fine and just needed a bandaid when any other kid would have been bawling. And he was expert at using his big puppy eyes and cheeky grin to charm his way out of trouble. Or into it. He’s always been reckless and heedless of consequences.”
She was silent for a long moment. “After Jess died I tried to reach out occasionally. Make sure he was doing okay. But he would never say if he wasn’t. And he won’t talk about her at all. Always changes the subject if I bring it up. I’m amazed he told you.”
“He didn’t tell me. He told Lucy.”
Flo pursed her lips, then nodded.
It took three quarters of an hour and several wrong turns to bring them to Lockwood’s front door. Or what Flo assured him was Lockwood’s front door. He wasn’t quite so sanguine. She stood on the sidewalk while George went up and rang the doorbell.
A muffled clang sounded from within the house. After a few seconds he tried again. And again. He couldn’t decide if this was a bad sign that nobody was home or good sign that they had the right house.
“Maybe he’s not here,” called Flo from down below, echoing his thoughts.
“I’m not giving up that easy,” muttered George.
He rang the bell seventeen more times before Lockwood finally pulled the door open.
“What the fuck, George!” He said, clearly annoyed. George noted the rumpled shirt, missing necktie and dark circles under Lockwood’s eyes.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” said George flatly. “May I come in?
“How the hell did you even find…” Lockwood looked past George and spotted Flo standing on the sidewalk, chewing on a piece of licorice. “Ah.”
“Evening Locky,” said Flo, waving her fingers at him. “Well, I’ve gotta split. I’ve got a five pound ticket to the Globe tonight.” With that she saluted and loped off down the street.
George turned back to Lockwood, waiting expectantly. Manners dictated that Lockwood invite him in, and Lockwood was a stickler for manners. After a long moment Lockwood threw his hands up in defeat.
“Fine,” he said and stood back so George could enter. George did so, pleased that the first part of his errand at least had gone to plan.
Unfortunately the next bit was trickier and he wasn’t at all confident his plan would work this time.
Lockwood showed George to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. George emptied the contents of his rucksack onto the table and snagged a doughnut. He needed to fortify himself for the battle ahead.
“So,” he said. As first volleys went it wasn’t the greatest, but it was a classic.
Lockwood just brooded at him from where he leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” George asked as neutrally as he could.
“It’s nothing, George.” Lockwood said it with practised ease, but his faintly knit brow gave lie to the casual tone.
“Is it?” George said, a sarcastic note creeping into his voice.
“George, what are you doing here?” Lockwood asked gruffly, clearly trying to change the subject.
“I’m eating a doughnut and waiting for you to make me tea,” George replied.
“You know that’s not what I meant.” There was a flintiness to Lockwood that George was unaccustomed to. It was like he was trying to contain his emotions but they were still all sharp pieces and jagged edges that cut through his mask. It gave George a glimmer of hope.
“I’m here because when I woke up you were gone,” said George. “Vanished off the face of the Earth. No note, no nothing.”
Lockwood just looked at him.
“I’m here because I’m your friend and I want to help.”
Nothing.
“I’m here because this morning I found Lucy in a right state and the story she told me makes you sound like an absolute dickhead.”
That got a wry snort.
“To be honest, it wasn’t the most coherent story I’ve ever heard but the thing that seemed clearest is that she thinks you’re angry at her and won’t ever speak to her again,” George said matter of factly. “And actually, she said that you’ve been angry with her off and on for weeks. Ever since you two went on that date that nobody wants to acknowledge was a date.”
Slight twitch. Getting warmer.
“And look, I think I missed a lot, and I was mostly trying not to pay attention anyways, but I think she’s right. You’ve been pushing her away for the last two weeks and then it finally all exploded last night and I can’t help but think that’s exactly what you wanted to have happen.”
“What?!” Exploded Lockwood.
Finally.
“George, you have no idea—” Lockwood shouted, his arms flailing uncontrollably.
“Don’t I?” George shouted back. “You didn’t see her this morning!”
“That’s not my—”
“It is! It’s entirely your fault!”
“You can’t possibly know that,” Lockwood said, looking away from him.
“Then tell me!”
“I don’t need to explain myself to you, George.”
“I’m all you’ve got,” said George, crossing his arms stubbornly. “And I’m not going anywhere until you do. We can stay right here all damn week if that’s what it takes. They can present Hamlet in the dark and much abridged for all I care.”
That got an angry huff of laughter from Lockwood. George felt he had battered the walls as much as he could and now needed to settle in for a protracted siege.
Lockwood turned away to pour the tea. George got up to find a plate to put the doughnuts on, waggling them under Lockwood’s nose until he was forced to take one out of sheer politeness. George was not above using Lockwood’s posh upbringing against him. Lord knew when he would have eaten otherwise. George suspected there hadn’t been an edible crumb anywhere in this kitchen.
They sat. They ate. They drank.
George sensed a private war happening on the other side of the table and kept quiet. Lockwood fidgeted with the handle of his teacup. He jiggled his leg. He stopped jiggling his leg and sat with forced stillness. His eyes roamed around the room like a pair of restless ferrets, wild and twitchy.
“You talked to Lucy?” He asked finally.
Ah, now they were getting somewhere.
“I did,” said George gently. “But I want to hear your side of the story.”
“I don’t expect it will be very different,” Lockwood said sullenly. “I kissed her. She told me to stop. She said we would never see each other again after this week and she didn’t want to start anything. What more is there to talk about?”
“Let’s start with why did you kiss her?” George asked.
“Seriously?” Lockwood huffed in disbelief.
“Yes. Seriously,” said George. “You took her on that date and then you showed her this house and then you didn’t kiss her for two whole weeks. So why did you last night? And why not before?”
Lockwood stared at him as though he’d just been asked a particularly difficult geometry question.
“It wasn’t the right time…” he said, his brows knitting.
“And the middle of the night was?” George asked pointedly.
“Clearly not,” said Lockwood, his mouth compressing into a thin line.
“So why did you?”
“Because… because she looked so sad and alone and I…” He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep out the memory or hold it to his chest, George wasn’t sure. “She looked how I felt. How I always feel inside.”
George nodded. That made sense. Lockwood’s eyes were distant so George waited for him to finish following whatever thread he’d picked up. After a while he thought Lockwood might be spiralling. Time to try a different tack.
“Do you know why she was sad?” He asked.
Lockwood shook his head.
“If you had to guess?”
Lockwood stared for a few seconds. “We had a fight... A few days ago.”
“Was that the one about Kipps?”
“Yes.”
“She said she found out about the song and told Kipps off for it,” George said squinting, trying to remember the details. Lucy had been most unclear on this part. “I wasn’t sure why you were angry at her for it.”
Lockwood gave a derisive snort. “She sure as hell wasn’t telling him off when I saw her.”
“Do you think she was lying?”
“I know she was,” Lockwood said grimly. “I just don’t understand why.”
George polished his glasses, thinking. “Well,” he said eventually. “She’s not one to grab the spotlight. Or push anyone else into it. Maybe she knows something we don’t.”
“Like what?” Lockwood asked truculently.
“I don’t know,” said George. “But I don’t see any reason not to trust her on this. It’s not like you caught her snogging Kipps.”
Lockwood shot him a glare that was so vehement George was forced to polish his glasses again.
“So anyways, you had a fight, you never really patched things up, and then you found her sitting in the hallway, in the middle of the night looking sad. And you kissed her.” He slid his now very clean glasses back on and surveyed Lockwood through them. He looked angry and sad and frazzled and lost all at once. “When was the fight?” George asked.
“What?” Lockwood asked distractedly.
“The fight about Kipps, you said that was a few days ago.”
“I think it was… Wednesday? Why?”
“Because that’s still a week and half since you two went on that not-a-date,” George pointed out.
“I’m not sure why you’re so fixated on that,” Lockwood said, picking up his teacup. His hands shook slightly as he brought it to his lips. “It was just a play. And it was in the evening so we crashed here.” Lockwood shrugged as if it was no big deal. Bollocks.
“Uh huh. And at no point that evening did you think about kissing her?”
Lockwood’s eyes darted to the side so quickly a less keen observer might have missed it. George did not.
“Right,” he said. “So you wanted to kiss her then, but you didn’t. And after that there was the whole duel with Kipps. Lucy was really agitated about that in the lead up, you know.”
“It was silly,” Lockwood muttered.
“Was it?” George lifted his eyebrows questioningly. “I’ve never been entirely sure how real your feud with Kipps is and I’ve been there for most of it.”
“Are you sure she was even worried about me?” Lockwood asked angrily. “I remember her showing a lot of concern for Kipps afterwards!”
“Was that before or after she bandaged you up?”
Lockwood opened his mouth to retort but then stopped. He stood there with it half open looking like a fish who’d been ambushed by a dam.
“What?” asked George.
“Nothing. I just… nothing.”
“Out with it!”
“I almost kissed her that night. While she was checking on my… wounds.” Lockwood shuffled his feet against the floor.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because you walked in!”
“Oh great, so now it’s my fault?”
“That one definitely was!”
George huffed. This was unhelpful. “Okay, maybe it was. But then from what I remember, right after that you disappeared to be with your gang of admirers all weekend.”
“It wasn’t all weekend. We went to the theatre together, remember?” Lockwood sounded defensive. George needed to keep pressing.
“I remember you were very frosty toward Lucy the whole time and I had no idea why.”
“I wasn’t… I wasn’t frosty towards her,” Lockwood protested. “She’s the one who was upset about the play!”
“Uh huh,” George said sceptically. “But basically what I’m hearing is, for a few days after the duel with Kipps, after you almost kissed her, you barely spoke to her, am I right?”
Lockwood looked at the floor for a long minute. Finally he looked back up at George. “You’re driving at something, what is it?”
George sighed. He would have preferred to keep his hypothesis to himself a bit longer. But he supposed he had the evidence he needed. It was time to put it to the test.
“Before you and Lucy had the fight about Kipps.” he said slowly. “Earlier this week. Was there another time you wanted to kiss Lucy?”
Lockwood stared at him. Then he looked up at the ceiling. Then he looked down at the floor. Finally he looked back at George. “Many, many times.”
“Tuesday?” George asked.
“Wednesday.” Lockwood swallowed, his eyes haunted. “Wednesday morning, we were talking outside the mess… But there were people around and Lucy was worrying about talking to Wade, so I didn’t. I was just trying to comfort her.”
“Goddammit Lockwood.” George couldn’t help it, he needed to polish his glasses again.
“I don’t… how did you know?” Lockwood asked quietly, staring down at his hands.
“Because Lucy told me that every time it seemed like you were getting close, you would suddenly push her away. Looks like she was absolutely right.”
He let Lockwood sit with that for a few minutes, digesting it.
“So, to summarise,” said George. “You pushed and pulled and hemmed and hawed and confused the hell out of her for two weeks. So that when it did inevitably blow up you could tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. She’s the one who rejected you. When we both know that this was your plan all along.”
“George that’s not—”
“Isn’t it? You managed to convince her both that she needs to protect you from your own feelings and that you don’t care about her at all.”
Lockwood’s head snapped up, his skin even paler than usual. “That’s not true!”
“No shit.”
“So you’re saying this is all my fault?” Lockwood asked heavily. “I drove her away.”
“Yes.”
Lockwood’s jaw worked convulsively for several seconds. Then he hung his head in defeat. “Shit,” he said dully.
“Well, that’s that then,” said George, feeling pleased with himself. Who said he wasn’t good at interpersonal stuff?
“It doesn’t matter. She’ll want nothing to do with me now,” Lockwood said disconsolately.
George rolled his eyes. “You could try apologising.”
“After everything… I’m not even sure I should. She’d be better off with anyone but me.” The hopeless look Lockwood gave him made him think he might have gone too far. Still, Lockwood had needed to hear the truth. And now he had. George sighed.
“Look,” he said as kindly as he could. “I don’t know how to fix this. But I’m sure you can. Lucy was devastated when I spoke to her earlier. She cares about you as much as you do about her.”
“How do you know?” Lockwood whispered.
“Because if she didn’t, this wouldn’t hurt so much.”
Lockwood stared at his empty tea cup for so long it made George decide they both needed a refill. He pulled out a biscuit and took a bite, then got up and put the kettle on again. While it was boiling he opened a bag of crisps. Good to balance sweet and savoury, after all.
Lockwood still looked like he was locked in his own inner turmoil when George put his refreshed cup of tea in front of him. He added a couple of biscuits to try to tempt him. Then he sat with his own tea and sighed. He felt like he’d just run a marathon.
“Oh, by the way, my mum invited you for dinner tomorrow,” George said. He had just thought of it and didn’t want to forget.
Lockwood looked at him like he’d just spoken in Farsi. “I can stay here tonight if you want,” George offered.
Lockwood shook his head slowly.
“You sure?”
“I want to be alone for a while. I need to think.”
“Sure,” said George. “Take your time. I’ll come back tomorrow to pick you up. But don’t go disappearing again. My mum will be really put out if you miss her Zereshk Polo.”
Lockwood nodded and absently reached for a biscuit.
George smiled. Then he grabbed another biscuit and dunked it in his tea, his reward for a job well done.