TOURIST ATTRACTIONS Page 5

  "Yes. But that's not all you were going to tell me," he said. He turned, arm still around my waist, and we walked back toward the city lights.

  "It's not?" I tried.

  "Ah think you were going to tell me about a good friend. Maybe someone you're highly attached tae. Someone who wouldna like this."

  I cringed. "Must be nice to be psychic."

  "Well, one has to wonder. You come always meeting me on the sly, never where your companions can see. Must be something you don't want them to know."

  "It's true. Even if they never told Tony--my boyfriend--I hate to imagine what they'd think of me." I realized how that sounded, and hastily added, "I don't mean I'm ashamed of you. I think you're great. I wish I could talk to them about you."

  He seemed dryly amused. "In-deed. Everyone loves talking aboot me."

  "I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier," I lamented.

  "Nay, it doesn't matter. I forgive you. I'd probably have done the same." We kept walking, arms around waists. After a few blocks, he said, "I'm to assume you're staying with him, then. And this is not to turn into anything."

  I slowed him down with a pull to his skinny waist. "Well, don't say that." He looked at me, fine light eyebrows lifted curiously. "I want to give you a chance," I said. "I came all this way, didn't I?"

  "That you did." He glanced down the sidewalk, then crowded me into the shadows of a garden (another ten square feet of grass), where he kissed me again. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll stay oot o' sight of your friends till you say so. And I shan't tell anyone."

  Chapter Seven

  Liaison and Discovery

  Gil still lived with his parents and sister, so he didn't want to bring me home for make-out sessions if he could avoid it. And he could hardly come to the hostel with me; that was Danger Central for getting caught by my friends. Besides, they didn't let non-paying guests past the front desk; no native Scots welcome there, which I thought was a little rude.

  But we did what we could, taking long walks around the city, and spending late evenings in warm places like Waverley Station (one of the only establishments still open after about 10:00 p.m.), inside near the ticket sales or out on the sheltered platforms.

  Eventually we wanted more privacy, so we put on scarves and hats, and took to shadowed park benches. One of us would sit between the knees of the other, with a coat wrapped around us both, and with cold nose-tips we would kiss and tell our life stories.

  This might have gone on indefinitely, but one day while making rice in the hostel kitchen, I was startled to hear Eileen say to me, "You know how we used to say that Laurence couldn't melt ice cream if you put it in bed with him? Well, that just isn't true."

  I paused in my stirring and stared at her. "What?"

  She was demurely adding sugar to her tea. "Oh, it's just that the other night, while we were up at the castle, it got windy and I started shivering, and he tucked me inside his overcoat. I was quite warm after that."

  "Well. It's a good overcoat," was all I could say. This news was alarming. If they were cruising the city at night, cuddling in shadows under each other's coats, they might come across Gil and me doing the same thing.

  "He smells good, too," she added.

  "Yeah, he...stays clean," I mumbled. Then some lingering vestige of concern prompted me to ask, "Listen, you're not really attached to him, are you?"

  She lifted her dark eyebrows. "Should I not be?"

  "Come on, this is Laurence. None of us are being ourselves while we're here. He might just be bored, and I...well, I wouldn't want you to get hurt when he decides he's had enough."

  She gave her startled, insulted laugh. "Well, I'm not throwing myself at him. And you think it's not possible he could actually like me? Thanks for the vote of confidence."

  "Don't get like that." I threw away a soup cube wrapper impatiently. "This isn't normal. Normally, he drives everyone mental. Okay?"

  "He's intelligent," she answered. "And that's worth a good argument."

  And she walked off, so she would have the last word. I wanted to shout after her, He took Tony's side against you in an argument! -- but that wouldn't have solved anything.

  Luckily, my fresh-faced sister came in at that moment. The sight of her cheered me up a little. "Hey," I greeted. "Where you been?"

  "Out with Thomas," she answered. "God, I'm starving." She stretched up to get our basket of groceries. We had all been starving ever since reaching Scotland. Buying your own food and paying your own rent wasn't so great after all.

  "Thomas?" I said blankly.

  "Thomas Chester-Brighton. I told you about him the other day. English, University student, stage-managing a Shakespeare play."

  "English, as in English major?" I asked.

  She swallowed a bite of cheap white bread and shook her head, making negative mmmph noises. "History major. English as in from England."

  "And how did you meet him?"

  "I told you," she said patiently. "The magic pub. He wasn't actually there that night, but I saw some students with copies of 'Much Ado About Nothing.' It turned out they were auditioning at Edinburgh University. So I went over a few days later and asked if they needed costume help, and Thomas said sure." She unwrapped some cheese, and added primly, "Nice of you to notice that I've been gone all these evenings."

  "I--I'm sorry. I haven't been here much myself."

  "I know." She set her sandwich on a folded paper towel. "Laurence and Eileen have all kinds of theories about that."

  My throat suddenly constricted. "Oh? Such as?"

  "My favorite is that you fell in love with one of those ghost-tour guides. You know, the ones up by the castle that dress like Dracula."

  I smirked, actually relieved. "Doctor Jekyll, I think it's supposed to be. Well, I have been sightseeing, but not like that." I drained the hot water off my rice, and took an aluminum bowl from the shelf. "What would Eileen and Laurence know about it, anyway? Haven't they been too busy flirting to notice anything?"

  Sharon looked over her shoulder at the pair chatting at a table in the corner. "Yeah, that's weird, isn't it?" she said. "You'll think I'm an egotist, but I always thought Laurence liked me the best. Of us three, I mean."

  "I thought he liked you the best, too."

  "I was never interested." She put away the bread and leaned against the counter, studying him from across the room. "I mean, he's very good-looking..."

  "He is?" I interrupted in disbelief.

  "Sure." She seemed unruffled. "But he's kind of mean to people. Never considers new ideas."

  "Like Eileen's ghosts?"

  "Right."

  "Well, it's only reasonable to be skeptical about that."

  "I don't know," Sharon said calmly. "I think the ghosts are real, and I'm sane." She looked at her watch. "Ooh, I said I'd call Mom and Dad. Come down if you want to say hi to them."

  And she was off.

  As I spooned rice into my bowl, Laurence came up beside me. He opened one of the small fridges and pulled a pint container from the freezer section.

  "Ice cream?" I asked him, suggestively.

  "What was your first clue?" he answered.

  I stirred my rice and smiled.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Nothing."

  "You girlies are so strange," he said.

  * * *

  Staying out late with Gil so often was wrecking my sleep patterns. I was getting reliant on coffee in the morning, which I never used to do. But it would only last a few months, I told myself. I'd be back to normal after that.

  I would also be far away from Gil after that. It was a sad thought that I didn't let myself dwell on.

  And no amount of sleep deprivation could have made me listless on one particular late-October night. Gil and I had walked for about half an hour, talking about our obscure bands, and ended up in a quiet part of town with many tree-shaded parks. We found a wooden bench tucked into a ten-foot-high hedge, almost invisible in the nighttime shadows. "Shall we rest
?" Gil invited, and we settled down.

  There was a cold wind, but clear skies. No rain or police officers arrived to interrupt us. The pattern so far had been relaxed kissing and gentle teasing. Tonight it became urgent kissing and determined groping. Within fifteen minutes we were whining to each other, "It's not fair; we have nowhere to go; this bench isn't comfortable enough..."

  And though we lasted a good long time in that location, the cramping coldness of the wind and hardness of the bench eventually separated us and forced us to our feet. We walked back toward the center of town with our arms tightly latched around each other's waists.

  "Someday when my family's not at home," he said, close to my ear, "I'll let ye know. We can be there on the bus in twenty minutes."

  "Okay," I answered, too aflame with desire to spare a serious thought for Tony.

  We were near the hostel before long. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning, and the city was much quieter than usual. I couldn't resist kissing him long and deeply before going in. His arms clasped close around me. Then we grinned at each other, and I dashed across the street into the hostel.

  I greeted the Australian guy behind the front counter, and breezed up the stairs, ready to fall into a dreamy sleep.

  But as I reached the stairwell landing at the third floor, and lifted my hand to push open the doors, a voice startled me from behind.

  "You know," said Laurence, "if you're going to suck British face while you're here, you really shouldn't do it where your friends can see."

  I spun around. He was sitting on the steps that led up to fourth floor, in pajamas, robe, and slippers. My heart hammered, and I couldn't answer for a moment.

  He looked amused. "Ooh, neat. I didn't know you could change color so quickly."

  I had felt the tidal surge in my circulation, but didn't know if I'd gone from red to white, or from white to red. It hardly mattered.

  "How did you..." I said stupidly.

  "Nice view from up in my room. Didn't you know?"

  "I thought everyone was-" Asleep? No, that would be an admission of guilt. I appealed with a direct lie instead: "It's not what it looks like."

  "I only wish it hadn't been so dark," he mused, ignoring me. "I wanted to get a good look at his outfit. Eileen said he dresses so badly."

  They even knew it was Gil. Oh, God. I let my voice turn bitter. "So Eileen's up there, too?"

  "No," he said. "I was just reading by the radiator, which happens to be by the window, and..." He waved his fingers to fill in the scene, smiling slowly. "You should know I'm not asleep at this hour. Did you want to get caught, or what?"

  "I wasn't thinking about you."

  "That's good. I'd be a little disturbed if you had been."

  I crossed my arms and sighed heavily. "So now what? You're going to tell Tony, I suppose."

  "Why would I do that? I don't want to crush his little world. I like him."

  "But you probably don't want to 'deceive' him, either."

  He shrugged. "You're doing just fine without my help."

  "You bastard." I took a few steps forward and dropped onto the stair below him. I rubbed my eyebrows with the heels of my hands. "Do you have to ruin every bit of fun you come across? Is that it?"

  "What have I ruined? All I did was look out a window."

  I shook my head, finding myself at a loss for words. I was angry. I was miserable. I was scared.

  I was caught.

  "Look, if you think I wanted to know this information..." he added.

  I clenched my hair between my fingers. "God, I wish you didn't."

  "I wish I didn't, too." He yawned, and crossed his ankles on the stairs. "You know, I was just kidding, about chasing kilts. Didn't think you'd take it as a suggestion."

  I lifted my head and glared at him. "All right, you think I should feel bad? I do feel bad. But what you saw down there is pretty much the worst thing I've ever done. Oh, I'm not proud of it, but it's hardly high treason, even you have to admit. I don't expect anything resembling mercy from you, so go ahead." I waved a hand toward the stairs. "Go tell whoever you're going to tell. Get it over with. Then move to Maine and leave us all in peace." I jumped to my feet and went to the door.

  He was laughing. "Eva," he said.

  I stared impatiently at him, my hand on the door.

  He came down a few steps toward me. "I'm just giving you a hard time. I'm not going to tell anyone."

  "Not even Eileen?"

  "Why should I? She's your best friend, not mine."

  "I'm not so sure of that anymore," I said.

  "Whatever. I stand nothing to gain by telling anyone. Go get some sleep." He started back up the stairs, then paused. "It would be worth remembering, though, that I do know." He waited until I looked at him, and added, "Don't ever push me, girlie."

  I felt my lower lip pout by itself. Somehow this quiet threat made me want to cry, when his relentless teasing hadn't.

  "'Night," he said, cordially, and walked up to his room.

  Chapter Eight

  Laurence, the Best Person We Know

  I got through work the next day only by force of will. Going on four hours of sleep and an extra cup of coffee led to dizziness. Facing my exposed betrayal of Tony in the harsh light of day drove it to nausea. I sipped herbal tea and nibbled crackers during my lunch break, hating Laurence, blaming Laurence for it all.

  He was the reason it seemed so bad. If no one had found out, I could have continued believing it wasn't wrong. A touch naughty, sure, but everyone was naughty sometimes. However, anything that merited that kind of a shocked reaction from one of my so-called friends must look worse than I realized.

  And this made me question it myself: what the hell did I think I was doing?

  If Gil called me at work, which he often did, to arrange a date--a wave of nausea now rocked me at the thought of it--would I accept? Would I still have the audacity to hop on a bus with him and go to his home, where there would be a private bedroom in a quiet house?

  Feeling the way I felt that day, I didn't think so. All that appealed was my bedroom in Wild Rose, with Tony hugging me to keep me warm as I slept, and my parents ready to tell me town gossip when I came downstairs. I looked out the kitchen window of the Dalrykirk Hotel, at the centuries-old stone courtyard with its little trees, bare now from the autumn winds, and wondered grimly why I hadn't just stayed home in the States.

  Gil did call that afternoon. The sound of his local-color accent, rich with amorous intent, made me cringe and lean my forehead on the wall. However, he was telling me that he couldn't meet me that evening, as his mother was getting fed up with his late nights, and he'd stay home tonight just to appease her.

  This was fine with me.

  I felt only marginally better after work. On my way back to the hostel, I stopped at a grocer's stand and bought some bananas, which I thought might give me strength when I was ready to eat them. By the time I pushed through the hostel doors, nothing sounded good except bed.

  Laurence, to my fabulous luck, was working behind the front counter. Too sick now even to hate him, I just gave him a hurt look, and set the bananas on the desk. "Here," I said. "I thought I wanted these, but I don't feel well enough. Take them."

  "All right," he said mildly. He even looked the slightest bit sympathetic, behind his characteristic smirk. "Late nights getting too much for you?"

  I nodded, and went up the stairs to Room 17, where I climbed into bed.

  When I opened my eyes some time later, Laurence was standing there, at eye level to my top bunk position. "Brought you your mail," he said.

  I extended one hand from the blankets to take it. A letter from Tony, cartoon smile decorating the back of the envelope. I grunted and dropped it beside the pillow.

  "I'm making beef barley soup," Laurence went on. "From scratch; none of this canned stuff. If you're up to it, I'll bring you some. Looks like you need it."

  "Why are you being nice?" I murmured.

  "You're ill, and y
ou're not taking care of yourself. I'm tired of dealing with you when you're like this." He rested an elbow on the bed frame. "I knew it must be bad when you didn't even have the strength to make nasty comments to me when you came in."

  I curled my knees up closer, and tugged the blanket over my neck. "How could I?" I grumbled. "I have to be nice to you, or you'll tell everything."

  "That's not what I said. I just advised you not to be stupid. However, the world is no fun if people stop making nasty comments to me." He took a step back. "Will you want soup?"