Ru gazed miserably at his plate. ‘I won’t say anything to her. I know how she’ll be if she knows I’ve been up here.’ He shot a glance at Martyn.
Slowly, Martyn nodded. ‘Thanks. That’s good to know.’
‘I know she’s weird,’ Ru rushed on. ‘I keep thinking that she’ll just get over you but she’s been weird since Tucker died — weirder. But you know what she’s like. She’s got this massive thing about you. If I knew how to stop her, I’d do it.’
Martyn forked up some pasta. ‘Thanks for understanding that she freaks me out,’ he said, ironically.
‘Yeah,’ Ru agreed, bleakly. ‘Freaky, that’s us.’
‘But it’s not Ru’s fault,’ Honor protested, hearing unwelcome echoes of Frog’s‘freak!’She looked at Martyn, lifting her eyebrows in elaborate expectation, trying to fry him with her stare.
After a few moments of the stare treatment, his eyes gleaming with amusement, he gave in. ‘It certainly would make my life easier if you said nothing about visiting me tonight, Rufus. I appreciate that you’re in a difficult situation.’ One corner of his mouth moved in something that might have been a smile.
Rufus went dark red. ‘’S’alright,’ he muttered.
The grin Martyn sent Honor under his dark brows suggested he was beginning to remember his company manners. And expected her approval. ‘Your pasta OK?’
But Ru, gazing into his plate that way, made Honor feel soft with sorrow. He was a good kid in a bad situation and Martyn Mayfair Superstar’s graciousness needed work, so she looked at Ru as if the question had been directed his way, obliging himto pick up his fork and taste the food so that he could say, ‘Yes. Thanks.’
When they’d eaten and Martyn had filled the coffee machine, he did finally make a proper attempt with Ru. ‘You ever taken any self-defence classes? Seems to me that you ought to.’
Ru gave his usual, fatalistic shrug. ‘Mum doesn’t like me going to classes.’ And then, at Martyn’s uncomprehending silence, ‘She doesn’t like me joining things. She says we’re free spirits.’
‘That’s true,’ Honor put in. ‘I heard her say that.’
‘She’d keep me out of school, if she could.’ His plate removed, Ru had returned his morose gaze to the granite. ‘She doesn’t like conforming. I’m probably the only kid you know who sneaks off in the morning to changeintohis uniform. I buy it from the school thrift shop and carry it round in my backpack.’
Honor struggled to understand the school uniform thing. ‘So all the kids in your school have to wear a certain thing, and she won’t let you?’
‘Black trousers and a burgundy sweatshirt,’ he agreed. ‘But she says a uniform is designed to strip me of my individuality and make me one of a herd. It’s important for each person to be valued for how they are and not forced into superficial conformity. She tells me not to be a clone.’ He laughed, humourlessly, and Honor thought she caught the glint of tears in his eyes. ‘She’s certainly made me an “individual”. It’s no wonder the kids at school call me “freak”. They think I live with a coven of witches.’
Martyn snorted. ‘It’s what comes of being brought up in a non-standard household. People start giving you a hard time for it, as if there’s something you could do about it. Your mother seemed OK with Tucker.’
‘Yeah.’ Ru glanced up. ‘It was better when Tucker was alive.’ His hair slid slowly over his eyes. ‘He was the most normal bloke Mum ever had.’
Honor’s heart ached. ‘So Tucker wasn’t your dad?’
‘No. Some bloke she used to be friends with did the business for her when she wanted a baby. He went off to work in South America. They didn’t keep in touch.’
Honor sighed. ‘At least she wanted you.’
Sliding off his stool to collect the steaming coffee jug and a carton of milk from the fridge, Martyn put out three mugs. His voice was softer, now. ‘There’ve been a lot of blokes, then?’
‘Yeah,’ Ru said, gruffly. ‘’Specially at festivals. She’s always sending me off “for a walk”, or pointing out what tent she’ll be in if I need her during the night.’
Honor’s anger bubbled over. ‘That just stinks! She’s a mom and she ought to know better than to embarrass you that way.’ But then she caught Martyn’s eye and subsided. She wasn’t helping, any more than when she’d antagonised Ru’s bullies. He was probably wishing her to hell.
Martyn sipped his coffee meditatively, and then, sighing as if making a tough decision, pulled out his phone and dialled with a few touches to the screen. ‘Hi, Clarissa,’ he said, into the flat, shiny instrument. ‘Do any of your mates do self-defence classes?’ He reached into a drawer for a pen and wrote a number on a scrap of paper. ‘No, not me. Just someone I know.’
Ending the call, he gave the number to Ru. ‘Call this number and say Clarissa gave it to you. It’s a guy called Hughie. His classes are pretty full but he went to school with Clarissa, so he’ll fit you in.’ He made a thoughtful face. ‘I’m not sure that he knows how to beat up three thugs with fish and chips, though.’
Honor blushed. ‘I thought I did a good job.’
His eyes smiled, even if his lips were late to the party. ‘You were heroic. By the time I opened the door, there you were, StGeorgina taming a deeply unpleasant dragon with a takeaway and impressive American swearwords.’
They both looked around at a sudden squeaky, creaky noise. It came from Rufus, laughing almost soundlessly. ‘It was wicked,’ he gasped. ‘Frog dancing about trying to get hot fish out of his boxers. He looked such a tosser.’
Martyn actually began to laugh, too. ‘It’s the American hot-fish dance. Frog should be honoured that Honor came all the way from Connecticut to teach him.’
