The Burning Girl

Chapter 5 - A N N A

The stars are out, I can see then through my skylight.

I lie awake thinking about my Da and James again. I know I should think about happy things; but I can't get this image out of my head. James being blown apart and Da falling to the ground in agony.

My face is clammy from my drying tears and hot cheeks. I'm pretty sure I look like a tomato right now. Red, puffy eyes, streaky mascara residue and mussed up hair. Real pretty, I think. The mascara just adds to the patheticness.

Above my head, my glow in the dark stars and fairy lights grow elongated as I squint my eyes together. I always thought that if I could get the lights to look like real stars, then I would be closer to James in heaven.

I try not to think about that anymore.

There's a soft clinking noise coming from somewhere, I realise. I stop squinting and concentrate on the source. My window. I sit up carefully, and quietly pad over to the curtains, listening. There it is again, tick tick tick. I twitch the curtain back, ever so slowly, and see the golden shine. Arran. He's looking up and see's my face appear at the window.

He mouth's "Let me in" and points vigorously at the door. I grin down at him and scamper across my room to grab my dressing gown. I tip-toe down the stairs, so as not to wake Ma, and creep towards the front door. I grab the keys from the hook and turn the lock quietly. Arran's on the doorstep, still in the clothes he was in two hours ago. He usually comes over when there are family problems, but not this late. He looks happy to see me, but I can tell he's worried about something. His shoulders are hunched and his smile too wide.

"So you gonna let me in then? Or shall I freeze to death?" He asks, laughing.

"Oh right, sorry." He sidles through the door, taking off his coat. I can smell that rich earthy smell of the woods as his moves to take of his boots. He definitely  hasn't been home.

We walk through into the kitchen. I sit on the armchair, and Arran sits on top of the Aga, warming up.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Oh, you know, arguing parents" He says. "Thought I could crash here tonight?"

"Of course," I reply, "I'll go find you some pyjamas, Ma should have left them in the laundry room."

I swear to God, Arran has more of his clothes at my house than at his. Almost his entire collection of PJ'S are here, not to mention various shoes and coats. There's an entire cupboard full of them; band shirts, big raincoats and trainers. I pull out a t-shirt that says 'sarcasm is one of the many services I offer.' I laugh and pick out a pair of blue checked pyjama bottoms. I walk back into the kitchen and hand them to him.

"Cup of tea?" I ask.

"No thanks An, I'm really tired."

I look at my watch, 11:20pm. "Jeez, I didn't realise the time!"

Arran jumps down off the Aga and walks through the door that leads to the stairs. I follow him and quietly we make our way to my room.

I pull out the spare mattress that lives under my bed and go to find the duvet and pillow in my wardrobe. Arran stands in the door way and watches me walk around the room. Only then do I remember that my pyjama's consist of a shirt and underwear, under my dressing gown. I blush furiously and hope that my face is hidden from him.

I find the duvet and make the bed. Next I plump the cushion up and put it at the top. Arran comes over and flops down, still clutching his clothes. He lies there for a few minutes and then groans as he sits up. He starts to take his top off, then seems to remember that I'm standing near him. I swear I can see a blush creeping up his face, but he quickly pulls the top down, leaps up and pads across the hall to the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of his flat stomach, just as gold as the rest of him, and I smile to myself.

He pads back in, muddy clothes in a bundle and puts them in the laundry basket in the corner of my room. Again he flops onto the mattress, bouncing slightly from the impact. I climb into my bed taking off the dressing gown quickly, and praying he saw nothing. I sink into the cool, cleaness of my sheets and sigh.

"Alright Anna?" Arran asks.

"Yeah, it's just so nice to have a comfy bed after a long day. So warm," I mumble, I hear Arran chuckle softly. There's a slight rustle of sheets, as he gets under the covers.

We start talking; nothing important, just meaningless things. We lie like that, looking out the skylight at the stars, until the haze of sleep comes.