Free From the Tracks, Page 2

Chapter Two

  Summer graced the islands with sunshine until late evening during March and the New Zealand days seem blissfully endless. Dane proved a safe and confident driver, not showy or dangerous as Sophia expected. He cruised along with his right elbow on the windowsill, long dark fingers pulling at a thread on the rubber seal around the opening. Sophia’s bag moved around in the boot with a clunk at every corner; the back seat occupied by two tatty booster seats which she wanted to ask about, but didn’t.

  The Armitage house possessed an aura of silence as Dane’s battered old Subaru bounced onto the sloped driveway and cruised to a stop. Sophia turned to thank him for the ride but spoke to his back as he exited the vehicle. She exhaled, dreading the coming awkwardness as she pushed the door open, finding it harder than she expected. Dane wrenched it open and she almost fell out, grappling at his trousers as he pitched forward. “Steady,” he laughed. “It’s a steep driveway, ay?”

  Sophia nodded and clambered upright, finding herself standing very close to Dane. She breathed in the scent of deodorant, cigarettes and chewing gum. “I’ll just get my bag,” she said, edging around the vehicle. The hinges made a dreadful creaking as she tried to close the lid.

  “You have to slam it. It’s old.” Dane gave it a good thump and the metal clicked shut.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Sophia said, biting her lip and wondering how to end the unfortunate assignation.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Dane asked. He shrugged. “What’re you so scared of?”

  “Nothing!” she bit, her eyes widening in horror. She glanced up at the lounge window, knowing her mother would pitch a fit if she saw her get out of another student’s car. Dane followed her glance and then let his gaze settle on her face.

  “I’ve got my full licence,” he said. “I’m allowed to carry passengers.” His tone contained an edge of challenge. “Or is it just that you can’t be seen with me?”

  Sophia tried to disguise her unease. She raised her hand and placed her palm against his muscular chest, feeling the corded muscle move beneath her touch. His heart beat distracted her; regular and steady and nothing like hers. “It’s not that,” she said, shaking her head. Her ponytail flicked both shoulders and Dane’s eyes followed it from side to side.

  “What then?”

  Sophia straightened her shoulders and made a decision which left her heart thudding and her brain screaming. “Nothing. Would you like to come inside?”

  Dane nodded, his expression uncertain. He glanced back at the house, less sure of himself now she’d called his bluff. “Yeah. Okay.”

  They climbed the front steps while Sophia searched in the front pocket of her school bag for the door key. Her fingers closed around the wooden ‘S’ her brother made in woodwork and she drew out the key, slotting it into the lock and hearing the familiar click as it turned the mechanism. A landing met them, one set of stairs going up to the living area and the other down to the garage. “Come in,” she said, her fingers shaking.

  “Thanks. I’ve always liked your house. It looks Mediterranean with the roses around the door and stuff.” Dane followed her inside.

  “My mother’s English,” Sophia said. “She likes European styles. The back garden is native New Zealand though; she spent hours getting it all just right.” Sophia pushed down the pain in her gut and kicked her black school shoes off, shoving them into a shallow, wall mounted shoe cupboard. Dane pushed his off without undoing the fragile laces and left them on the doormat. Sophia spotted a big hole at the end of his right sock and four toes peeked out. Dane covered it with his other foot, his brow knitting at Sophia’s interest. She felt a wave of pity and pointed to her leg. “Join the club,” she said with a smile.

  Upstairs in the kitchen, the sun beat down on the worktops, filling the room with gorgeous heat. Sophia threw the ranch slider open, allowing the outdoor air to circulate inside. Dane pressed his forehead against the glass of a side window and pointed next door. “Declan Harris lives next door to you,” he said. “Do you see him much?”

  “No.” Sophia shook her head. “I hear him playing the guitar sometimes but their garden slopes away from ours. Callister Rhodes lives in the next house along too.”

  Dane jerked his head in an upwards movement. “I know.”

  “I don’t see her either,” she offered and Dane cocked his head.

  “Why?”

  Sophia widened her eyes. “No reason. Declan hangs with the God-squad and Calli isn’t in many of my classes this year.” She gritted her teeth and watched him glance around her home as though casing the joint for a burglary later. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

  Dane shrugged. “Nope.” He plunged his backside into the comfy sofa near the ranch slider and left Sophia to produce a drink of cold orange juice from the fridge.

  “Thanks.” Dane accepted the glass, never taking his eyes from her face. She squirmed under his open scrutiny. Noticing her gaze fall on a family portrait hanging on the wall, he stood to examine it. He pointed at Matthew. “Your brother?” he said, smirking and jerking his head towards the picture. Matt smiled back from the photograph, his right hand placed on his sister’s shoulder. It was all an act instigated by their mother. The five-year-old photo hid the thumping Matthew gave her afterwards for something quite minor and Sophia’s subsequent crocodile tears after she got him into trouble with their father.

  “That makes sense,” Dane mused, running a hand across the bridge of his nose. “He’s got a hard forehead.”

  “I don’t remember you fighting him,” Sophia replied, sounding confused. “He’s a year older than us.”

  “Yeah. I know.” A smirk crossed Dane’s handsome features and he took a swallow of the juice before returning to his seat. “Wish he could see me now.”

  “Why?” Sophia stood between the kitchen and the family room, keeping a safe distance between them. “Oh, I remember. You played soccer with him last year.”

  Dane nodded, his eyes narrowed into slits, giving nothing away. “Yep. How’s he doing?”

  “He’s on a soccer scholarship in Chelsea. He seems happy when he rings Dad.” Her brow furrowed and she sounded hesitant. “Why do you wish he could see you now?”

  Dane shook his head and snorted. He raised the glass to her. “He head butted me but if he could see me now, he’d hurt me properly.”

  Sophia swallowed. “I don’t understand.” She glanced at the photo, confusion in her eyes. “Matt didn’t fight without good reason.” She finished her drink and put her glass in the sink, her mind occupied by thoughts of her brother. Matthew left after New Year and her mother not long after. He rang on Sundays wanting to speak to them all and Sophia’s father had lied for the past eight weeks, saying she was out. It couldn’t go on for much longer.

  “You ok?” Dane’s eyes fixed on her and Sophia felt embarrassed, flushing pink to the roots of her hair. She floundered for conversation and an idea blossomed in her fuddled brain.

  “Matt’s old school uniform is still here somewhere. Shall I get the pullover out and see if it’s any good as a replacement for yours?”

  Dane didn’t answer and flustered, Sophia charged back out to the landing and through a door to the bedrooms, flinging open Matt’s door and catching the momentary smell of his aftershave. It made her miss him, the silly sibling rivalry and aggravation, but also the loyalty that transcended everything else. She shook off the sensation of loss, opened his wardrobe door and lifted down a blue plastic box. “I’m sure it’s here,” she muttered. “It’s not like anyone’s around to complain anymore, is it?”

  “Who isn’t around, Soph?” Sophia quashed her bitterness as Dane tracked her into her brother’s bedroom and asked the question.

  “Nobody,” she replied, forcing brightness into her voice. “If it fits, you can have it.” She located the pullover, fingering other items belonging to Matt as they tumbled through her hands. Even though her mother washed them before storing them away, they still reminded Sophi
a of her brother’s smell. “Here it is. You can take it if you like.”

  Sophia pulled the navy pullover out by the sleeve and almost overbalanced as it resisted and then popped free. She knelt down on her hands and knees and balled it up before holding it out to Dane. His long angular fingers reached out to take it from her. To her horror, he pulled his ruined pullover over his head and dropped it onto the carpet. Sophia saw a flash of taut brown stomach as he put Matt’s pullover on over his untucked shirt. The arms looked a little long and the yellow band around the V-neck and cuffs less bright than when new. Dane patted it down and nodded. “Yeah, that looks great. Thanks, Soph.” He straightened out the hem and Sophia peered into the bottom of the box, spotting Matt’s old trousers and some shirts underneath. She hauled them out.

  “You can take these too, but only if you want.” Her voice sounded soft, not wanting to force Dane to accept second-hand clothes belonging to a boy who head butted him for no reason.

  He didn’t seem bothered and it was difficult not to stare as Dane tried on the uniform. His tanned, muscular body moved with grace and strength as he stripped off the pullover and his old shirt to try on Matt’s. Healed scars littered his torso and Sophia pretended to fiddle around in the box to hide her intense embarrassment. Any enjoyment at his proximity became soiled by the memory of Sandra and what she might do if she ever found out. The shirts looked a perfect fit, but Sophia folded the trousers up and pushed them against Dane’s chest as he buttoned up the last shirt. “Try these on at home and bring them back if they don’t work out.” She felt hot enough already without him stripping to his underwear.

  Dane nodded and smiled with his eyes, searching for something in her face. Sophia forced herself to look away, her throat closing with anxiety. She shut the box and Dane helped her manhandle it back onto the shelf in the wardrobe, his body too close to hers. All she needed to do was reach out and touch him. It would be easy and yet so stupid. Dane McArdle was dangerous but his terrifying girlfriend would be deadly.

  “My Dad will be home soon,” she said, biting her bottom lip. Dane took the cue, moving into the hallway. Sophia was grateful for his easy acquiescence, having broken most of her parents’ rules in one sitting; don’t travel with in student’s cars, don’t have boys in the house alone and especially, no boys in bedrooms. Sophia shook her head at the irony of having broken all the rules in a single hour, luckily without a parental audience.

  Dane’s striking blue eyes were level with Sophia’s as he stepped down onto the first step. He looked at her hard and his gaze penetrated her soul. A moment of awkwardness arrived where it seemed like he might say something and then it passed. Dane walked down the stairs to the front door. He slipped his shoes on without bending down, walking a few steps while the backs popped up around his foot. Catching her gaze, he smiled. “They’re wrecked anyway.”

  “They are now,” she replied, hearing her mother’s sarcasm emerging through her own lips and taking herself by surprise.

  “See ya,” Dane said at the front door, tapping the frame with his fingers. He indicated the clothing items stuffed under his arm. “And thanks for this gear. I appreciate it.”

  “That’s okay.” Sophia swallowed as yet another awkward minute passed, leaving her heated and confused. She waved to Dane as his car belched to life and left an oily streak on the driveway, guaranteed to incite her father’s interest.

  As the sound of his dodgy exhaust roared onto the main street, Sophia leaned against the closed front door and contemplated her peculiar afternoon. Dane’s company went part way towards negating her misery at the doctor’s surgery but the threat of Sandra hung over her like a dark cloud. Upstairs she reached out to pull Matthew’s bedroom door closed and noticed Dane’s old pullover screwed up on the carpet where he left it. Picking it up, she held it to her nose, feeling the scratchy wool against her face and remembering his unexpected tenderness in wiping her tears away. She smelled his deodorant and a cheap aftershave brand she recognised. Sophia folded the pullover and hid it in her bag, intending to take it back to Dane at school after the weekend. Somehow the thought of seeing him again made her feel happier than she had for a while, as long as she kept the darkening fear that he might be toying with her at bay.

  Sophia’s father arrived home late home from work and peered at the oil patch on the driveway. “Who the hell did that?”

  Sophia avoided the question. “Can we go for a driving lesson before it gets dark, please Dad? My parallel parking is still rubbish and I want to go for my full licence soon.”

  “Not tonight honey.” Edgar sighed. “I’m too tired to concentrate. We’ll end up arguing and I’m not in the mood.”

  He was uncommunicative, slumped in a chair watching pictures move across the television screen without registering anything he saw for most of the evening. Sophia burned sausages for dinner under the temperamental grill, forgetting the other components of the meal until the blackened offerings looked lonely on the plate. In desperation, she added bread and tomato ketchup, passing it off as sausage sandwiches.

  “I’m not hungry, sorry.” Edgar pushed the food into his mouth without tasting it and left Sophia to clear up alone.

  “Geez thanks for all your effort, Soph,” she grumbled to herself loading the dishwasher. She retreated to her bedroom at the end of the long hall and didn’t see her father again that night. His master bedroom was right next to the family lounge at the other end of the house but as usual he didn’t quite make it there, instead falling asleep on the sofa and waking up stiff and cold next morning.