The Viking and the Vendetta Page 3

  "Take care of yourself," she said.

  Luke nodded but didn't speak and Julia followed her daughter into the sloping passageway which led to the train. As they vanished from his sight, Luke could not help but dwell on the contrast between Pagan's cold farewell and the warmth of her greeting in the same location at the beginning of the day. He clearly had not been forgiven for his impulsive words in the park. The pain of the cut inflicted by the mugger seemed insignificant in comparison.

  He walked in silence with Ned to the escalator and down through the advertisement-lined tunnels leading to the Underground station. A southbound Victoria Line tube arrived as soon as they reached the platform. The train was busy with commuters and they both had to stand all the way to Victoria. Luke found that his bloody top worked like an invisible protective barrier, ensuring that he had more space around him than any of the other passengers. He was becoming weary of the scandalised looks he was getting from their fellow travellers. He tried to hide the stains by wrapping his left arm and shoulder around one of the pale blue metal posts which supported the roof of the carriage and which the standing passengers had to cling on to as the train lurched jerkily through the hot, airless tunnels.

  The nearest people to him were a dark-skinned young man and woman whose attention was focused entirely on each other. They were the only people in the coach who appeared unaware of Luke's grisly appearance. Luke watched the couple kissing every time the train stopped at a station and found himself hating them with an equally strong passion.

  At Victoria, Ned led Luke upstairs into the small shopping precinct above the station where he insisted on buying Luke a new t-shirt from a men's clothes store. "Your mother will turn a knife on me if you arrive home covered in blood. You look as though you've spent the day as an extra in a horror film."

  Once he had paid for Luke's new top, Ned made him change into it, right there in the shop. Embarrassed, Luke pulled off his gore-spattered shirt and replaced it with the new one, humiliated at having to do so under the curious stares of the sales assistants. He stuffed the shirt into the Hamleys bag, out of sight.

  They secured a table to themselves on the train that would take them home; Luke's injury proving useful again as a deterrent to anyone who might have considered sharing their space. As the train left Victoria and began to pick up speed, its noise provided them with a degree of privacy. Ned took advantage of it to return to the topic of the mugger's attack. Luke had been expecting and dreading this: he was fairly sure that his neighbour had been dissatisfied with his earlier account and with the statement he had given to the police.

  "So, did you get knifed because you tried to stop the mugger from taking your things?" Ned asked.

  "No. I didn't dare. He was holding his knife at Pagan's face," Luke explained.

  Ned's eyebrows went up and his head tilted forward. He was back in cross-examination mode. "And yet yours is the one with the knife wound."

  Luke was reminded of the cigarette-end incident of the summer term, where Ned, in his role of headmaster, had used careful questioning to deduce Luke's plan to plant the incriminating evidence in the room of his rival, Benjamin Wharton. This interrogation felt as if it was going to go the same way. He suspected that Ned was not going to let things rest until he had got all the facts.

  Luke tried to change the subject, although he knew it was unlikely to divert the inquisition. "What did Mrs Randall mean, when she said 'see you next week'?"

  "I'm going back to Hawley Lodge on Monday and I'm going to pop by and make sure they've moved in to their new house OK on Wednesday," Ned replied. He returned to his previous line of enquiry as though there had been no interruption, this time with an open question which demanded a straightforward answer. "How exactly did you come to be cut?"

  Luke sighed. He was beginning to think that his neighbour had missed his true vocation as a police detective. He consoled himself with the thought that at least Ned wouldn't be landing him in detention as a consequence of nailing down the truth this time. "I provoked him," he admitted, going on to explain how, while keeping a wary eye on Ned, to see how he was going to react. "Then Pagan screamed and they ran off," he finished.

  Ned was frowning.

  "And then Pagan punched me," Luke added resentfully, rubbing the bruised part of his arm and hoping to distract Ned into offering sympathy instead of blame.

  "Now that attack seems more than justified," said Ned in a tone that was far from sympathetic. "She must have been scared stiff. Luke, you do realise that you could both have been killed just because you couldn't keep your mouth shut, don't you?"

  Ned's voice rarely betrayed his feelings and this was the first time Luke had ever heard him sounding genuinely angry, although he was not shouting in the way that Luke's other dad normally did. Luke supposed that Ned's exasperation was perfectly reasonable under the circumstances but he felt ill-equipped to cope with it, especially as he knew he was likely to face a similar response from his parents when he got home. One of the significant disadvantages of having two fathers in his life was becoming all too clear. As far as Luke was concerned, the throbbing cut on his cheek and the chilly nature of his parting with Pagan were painful reminders enough of how reckless his words to the mugger had been.

  "I know!" he snapped back. "And now Pagan's not talking to me, I've had my face sliced open and I've screwed up the whole day for everybody. I'M SORRY, ALRIGHT?"

  Luke didn't have anything like Ned's control over the volume of his voice. By the time he reached the end of this short speech, his shout was much louder than the background noise of the train. Passengers around them in the carriage were lowering their newspapers, phones and novels and staring at the two of them with open curiosity; perhaps pleased to have the monotony of their daily journey broken by this unusual helping of drama. Ned and Luke glared at each other for a few moments and then Luke broke the tension by letting out a sound that was half-laugh and half-sob. "And now I'm arguing with you like I do with my old man. Just perfect."

  He overlapped his forearms on the table and dropped his forehead onto them, hiding his face (and the tears that were threatening to fall and shame him further). Ned said nothing for a few moments, and then placed his hand lightly on the back of Luke's head. It was a gesture of comfort and, perhaps, forgiveness. When he spoke, his voice was back to its usual even tone.

  "Pagan will come round, Luke. When someone cares about you, they can't help but be angry when you put yourself at risk like you did today. It's just a temporary thing."

  Luke filled his lungs with a deep breath and tried to absorb some of Ned's restored calmness into himself. He let out the air in a long, slow exhalation and pushed himself upright again, feeling more hopeful."D'you think so?"

  "I'm positive. But you will need to explain how sorry you are, first. And it might be best if you can manage to do that without shouting at her."

  *

  On the Manchester train, the Randalls were also exchanging information about the way in which they had spent their day. Pagan didn't want to talk about Luke, so pressed her mother to tell her what she and Ned had done.

  "Well, we went to the museum and looked around the American prints exhibition, which was interesting," Julia started. "Then we had a really lovely lunch there and wandered round some of the other parts of the museum. I was pretty tired by the afternoon, so we decided to go on one of those tourist bus tours of the city. It was such fun: I haven't been on an open-topped bus for years!"

  Julia laughed at the memory but then stopped and paid attention to her daughter.

  "And then you rang and we jumped off and got into the taxi. I know your day ended badly, Pagan, but did you have a good time before that last part?"

  Pagan's feelings were muddled. She shrugged and said nothing, staring out of the window at the arch of Wembley Stadium which was glowing orange as it caught the light of the evening sun.

  "Don't give me that, Pagan Randall." Julia's voice was sharper than usual and Pagan turned
to look at her, startled out of her dejection. Heavy-handed parenting wasn't her mum's usual style. "You stopped talking to me about your feelings once before and look what happened then. Tell me what's the matter."

  Pagan smiled and shook her head. "I'm not planning on running away this time, Mum. Although I made such a fool of myself that I almost wish I could. It was when that guy slit Luke's face open with the knife, I-," she covered her face with her hands, unwilling to complete the sentence.

  "What?" insisted Julia.

  Pagan slowly raised her head out of her fingers, her face screwed up, as though she was in pain. "I screamed," she said. "I screamed like a flipping eight-year-old. It was so humiliating. Luke must think I'm a complete idiot."

  "Well it sounds like a perfectly natural reaction, to me," Julia reassured her. "I should think he's more worried about the fact that you barely spoke to him when we left."

  "I was too embarrassed. He must have been thinking what a big girl's blouse I was."

  "Pagan, I'm sure he was thinking no such thing. I saw his face when you walked off to the train. He looked heartbroken when you barely said goodbye, as if you'd just slapped him in the face."

  "I did punch him quite hard after we were mugged," admitted Pagan.

  "When he'd just been sliced open with a knife?" asked her mother, her voice shrill with disbelief.

  "Er, yeah," said Pagan, thinking that perhaps it did sound rather unkind when she put it like that.

  "Well, you really know how to show a boy a good time, don't you? First you nearly kill him by poisoning him, then you punch him when he's already been stabbed. If the poor lad's got any sense he'll run a mile from you!"

  Pagan knew she was only joking, but she began to wonder if her mother might not have a point. Perhaps this relationship had been cursed with bad luck from the very beginning.

  Chapter Four

  Ned accompanied Luke to his parents' house. The door flew open before they reached it and Luke's mother rushed out to greet them. She examined Luke's face and gave him a powerful hug. Finally releasing him, she turned to Ned and took his hands.

  "Thanks for looking after him. I'm so glad you were there."

  Luke's dad joined them and added his thanks to his wife's.

  "We've kept supper until you came home," said Luke's mum. "You'll join us, won't you, Ned?"

  Ned agreed and the four of them entered the house. Mum had made a quiche and there were bowls of potato and green salad next to it on the kitchen table. The twins were already in bed. The four of them sat down and began to help themselves to the food. Luke's stomach growled in anticipation of the meal; it seemed a long time since he'd eaten that hamburger beside the Thames with Pagan.

  It was strange to be eating a meal with all three of his parents at once; it was only rarely that Luke spent any time with all of them together. He felt unusually self-conscious, as though he were somehow having to live up to each of their expectations of him. Seeing his mother and Ned together always made him feel uncomfortable, anyway, as it made him remember that they had once (however briefly) been lovers. And no-one likes to think about their parents in those terms. He found it difficult to understand how they could now act neutrally towards each other, having once been so close. Surely there must still be some spark of feeling between them? Luke tried to imagine being equally cool towards Pagan and then felt another stab of almost physical pain as he remembered the way they had parted. Perhaps that was what it felt like for Ned, when he was around Luke's mother.

  Absorbed in these dismal thoughts, Luke hadn't noticed that he was being asked a question, but the way the adults were all looking at him told him that an answer was expected. "Sorry, what?" he asked.

  "I think you mean 'pardon'," said his mother, reprovingly.

  Oh yeah, I'm supposed to be on my best behaviour for her, in front of Ned, thought Luke. He eased his resentment by stabbing his fork into a piece of potato.

  "I asked you how you ended up getting knifed," his dad repeated.

  Here we go again, thought Luke. He looked over at Ned, reluctant to face a re-run of their row on the train, but unable to avoid telling them the truth when Ned already knew what had happened.

  But (not for the first time) Ned came to his rescue, apparently interpreting Luke's glance as an appeal for help. "As I understand it," said Ned, "Luke was trying to distract the mugger's attention from the bag holding Pagan's things. But the man reacted violently, punched Luke in the stomach and cut open his face."

  Luke nodded to confirm Ned's version of events and gave his neighbour a half-smile of thanks, wondering why he hadn't thought of explaining it that way to Ned in the first place. But then he felt dishonest, so he added, "It was my own fault, really."

  "You're not to blame that there are people out there who think they can go around stealing things at knifepoint," Luke's mum said, hotly. "I hope the police catch him and lock him up for good."

  "Is Pagan OK?" asked Dad.

  Another difficult question to answer, but Luke couldn't leave this one to Ned. "She's fine," he managed to say in a slightly hoarse voice. He did not feel like being honest about the fact that Pagan had hardly spoken to him since the attack and that he was worried she would never speak to him again.

  He remained quiet for the rest of the meal, listening to the others making polite small talk and trying to ignore the pain which was radiating from the cut on his face with every mouthful he ate. As soon as he felt he could, Luke excused himself and went to bed.

  It wasn't a good night's sleep. Every time he rolled on to his left side the pain in his face woke him up. Then Luke would find himself reliving the events of the previous day and found it difficult to nod off again. At six o'clock in the morning, he woke once more and knew that it was pointless trying to get back to sleep. He got up and went downstairs to the computer in his father's study. During the night he'd decided that he would send an email to Pagan in the hope of re-establishing a friendly relationship with her. He spent a long time writing it, trying to hit the right balance between apology and humour, without coming across as desperately needy.

  Hi Pagan

  Just wanted to say sorry for being a complete idiot yesterday.

  Ned gave me a bit of a bollocking on the way home cos I had to tell him why I got cut with the knife. He did buy me a new t shirt to replace the bloody one, tho, so i cant complain too much (except he made me change into it in the store in front of the shop assistants, which was well embarrassing!!).

  I havent got your home phone number, or i'd ring you to say sorry properly. Totally understand if you never want to talk to me again,

  Love,

  Luke

  xxx

  ps i've got quite a big bruise on my arm where you hit me... :-)

  Luke hit 'send' and hoped that this email would soften Pagan's feelings towards him.

  *

  Julia and Pagan spent the morning packing up books in their living room in Manchester in preparation for their move. Pagan was uncharacteristically quiet; still brooding, her mother assumed, on the state of her relationship with Luke. At lunchtime Pagan took a break and logged on to the computer while Julia went into the kitchen and started to prepare some cheese-on-toast. Her concentration on the task was interrupted by a loud squeal from her daughter, who ran into the room and gave Julia a hug which nearly knocked her off her feet. "You were right, Mum!" she shouted and then practically skipped out of the room again, flinging the words "I'm phoning Luke!" over her shoulder as she left.

  Julia surmised that her daughter's relationship with Luke was back on track. She turned to look at Pagan's father, who was smiling out at her from a photograph attached to the door of the fridge-freezer. "I wish you were here, Roy. I don't know if I can handle this teenage love affair by myself," she told him, shaking her head.

  *

  On the Friday of that week, Luke and Ned had arranged to go out for one last hike over the Downs before Ned's return to Hawley Lodge. The weather was overcast and
cool: more like autumn than summer. The combination of the weather conditions and their map-reading turned Luke's mind towards school and the forthcoming orienteering season. These thoughts raised a question which had been bothering him and which he needed to sort out with Ned. The problem was, that doing so would involve reviving memories of the confrontation they'd had at school in the previous term. He waited until they stopped for lunch before broaching the difficult topic.

  "Er, Ned," he began.

  "Mm?" Ned replied, his concentration on the hard-boiled egg that that he was peeling.

  "Will I be able to join the orienteering team at school again this year?"

  He had been banned from the team by Ned for going out of bounds while on a training run in the summer term. Luke was not sure whether this was ban was just for the previous school year, or if it was supposed to continue into the new one. It made sense to settle the issue while they were out on the Downs together rather than to wait until they had resumed their school roles and Ned had retreated to his headmasterly distance, but Luke was uncomfortable about bringing up the subject during the holidays: a time when they usually avoided mentioning their life at school.

  Ned glanced over at him, looking surprised at the question. "I suppose I wasn't explicit about the duration of the ban, was I?"

  "No," said Luke, adding (in an attempt to keep the conversation light), "but I'm hoping it wasn't a life-time one."

  "New year, clean slate," declared Ned. "Goes for everyone."

  "Oh, good." Another thought struck Luke. "So does that mean Wharton might get back on the team too, then?" he asked, dismayed.

  "You can't expect to have your slate wiped clean and not his," Ned pointed out, fairly.

  "I s'pose not," said Luke, pleased to have resolved the niggling question, but less thrilled at the idea of Benjamin Wharton being allowed to compete again. Wharton was an obnoxious member of the Viking house at school and he and Luke couldn't stand each other.