Hartley Durrant?' I said warming to my theme.
'What about her?'
'She's the only nought woman to make it into this year's list of the one hundred most beautiful women in the world. And d'you know why? Because she looks like a Cross.'
'No, she doesn't,' Cara argued.
'Yes, she does.'
'D'you think she's attractive?' asked Cara.
'Yes, she's gorgeous. But that's not the point,' I replied impatiently.
'Don't you think that beauty is as beauty does?'
'What does that mean?'
'It means too many people, Nought or Cross, are caught up in the things that don't mean a damn – like how people look and how much money they have. Who cares!'
'So what does matter then?' I asked.
'What people are on the inside,' said Cara.
What a load of naive, happy-ever-after nonsense, I thought sourly. And easy for you to say.
'Yes, I know it's easy for me to say.' Cara smiled, reading my mind. 'I'm on the inside. I'm part of the majority – I know that. Most magazine covers have Cross women and men on them, not Noughts. Most film stars are Crosses, most TV dramas are about Crosses. I know all that. I'm on the inside but that doesn't mean I can't see what's going on outside. And it doesn't mean I approve of the status quo.'
'Why not? Why should you care?' I couldn't help asking.
'Because my mum and dad brought me up to believe that people are different but equal. And that I should treat everyone, no matter who, with the same respect I'd like to be shown,' said Cara.
'So you're with me to show you can put your parents' philosophy into practice?' I could've bitten off my tongue the moment the words left my mouth.
'Is that what you really think, Steve?' Cara asked seriously.
I took a sip of my wine. I'd said far too much already.
'Is it?' Cara persisted.
'I don't know,' I said, looking her straight in the eye.
To my surprise, she smiled and sat back in her chair. 'Thanks for being honest. Now I'll be equally honest. I'm here with you because I like you – very much. And that's the beginning, middle and the end of it.'
But you don't know me, I couldn't help thinking. And the thought didn't bring me the satisfaction it should've done.
Sometimes when we're chatting or laughing together, I actually forget that she's a Cross. But only sometimes. When that happens, I force myself to look at her and concentrate on her skin colour and nothing else. And that usually does the trick. I focus on the things that are totally different about us. What surprises me is that sometimes I actually forget about our differences. Not for long – but it does happen. And it shouldn't. I'm going to have to make my move soon. I'm in danger here. Because I've started to think about the things we have in common rather than the things we don't. It's time to cut and run with whatever I can get from her.
twenty-four. Sephy
Mother didn't understand my decision. How could she, when I barely understood it myself?
'You said you were coming home with me,' Mother reminded me.
'There's been a change of plan. Callum's mum said I could stay with her so I've decided to . . . to live with her instead.'
'Why?' Mother asked quietly. 'To punish me?'
'It wasn't like that,' I insisted.
'Sephy, d'you want to live with Callum's mother?'
'She's got no one else,' I replied.
'That doesn't answer my question,' said Mother.
She'd noticed.
I'd taken the coward's way out and phoned Mother on the morning of my departure from the hospital. And even though I couldn't actually see her, I could still hear the hurt in her voice. And in some ways it was worse because my imagination filled in the blanks. My mind painted a picture of the bewilderment on her face, the disappointment clouding her eyes.
'I'm sorry, Mother,' I tried again.
'I thought you were serious about the two of us putting the past behind us and starting again
'I was. I am.'
But Mother wasn't listening. And I couldn't really blame her.
'So you'd rather live in some hut with a nought than come home with me?' asked
'What about her?'
'She's the only nought woman to make it into this year's list of the one hundred most beautiful women in the world. And d'you know why? Because she looks like a Cross.'
'No, she doesn't,' Cara argued.
'Yes, she does.'
'D'you think she's attractive?' asked Cara.
'Yes, she's gorgeous. But that's not the point,' I replied impatiently.
'Don't you think that beauty is as beauty does?'
'What does that mean?'
'It means too many people, Nought or Cross, are caught up in the things that don't mean a damn – like how people look and how much money they have. Who cares!'
'So what does matter then?' I asked.
'What people are on the inside,' said Cara.
What a load of naive, happy-ever-after nonsense, I thought sourly. And easy for you to say.
'Yes, I know it's easy for me to say.' Cara smiled, reading my mind. 'I'm on the inside. I'm part of the majority – I know that. Most magazine covers have Cross women and men on them, not Noughts. Most film stars are Crosses, most TV dramas are about Crosses. I know all that. I'm on the inside but that doesn't mean I can't see what's going on outside. And it doesn't mean I approve of the status quo.'
'Why not? Why should you care?' I couldn't help asking.
'Because my mum and dad brought me up to believe that people are different but equal. And that I should treat everyone, no matter who, with the same respect I'd like to be shown,' said Cara.
'So you're with me to show you can put your parents' philosophy into practice?' I could've bitten off my tongue the moment the words left my mouth.
'Is that what you really think, Steve?' Cara asked seriously.
I took a sip of my wine. I'd said far too much already.
'Is it?' Cara persisted.
'I don't know,' I said, looking her straight in the eye.
To my surprise, she smiled and sat back in her chair. 'Thanks for being honest. Now I'll be equally honest. I'm here with you because I like you – very much. And that's the beginning, middle and the end of it.'
But you don't know me, I couldn't help thinking. And the thought didn't bring me the satisfaction it should've done.
Sometimes when we're chatting or laughing together, I actually forget that she's a Cross. But only sometimes. When that happens, I force myself to look at her and concentrate on her skin colour and nothing else. And that usually does the trick. I focus on the things that are totally different about us. What surprises me is that sometimes I actually forget about our differences. Not for long – but it does happen. And it shouldn't. I'm going to have to make my move soon. I'm in danger here. Because I've started to think about the things we have in common rather than the things we don't. It's time to cut and run with whatever I can get from her.
twenty-four. Sephy
Mother didn't understand my decision. How could she, when I barely understood it myself?
'You said you were coming home with me,' Mother reminded me.
'There's been a change of plan. Callum's mum said I could stay with her so I've decided to . . . to live with her instead.'
'Why?' Mother asked quietly. 'To punish me?'
'It wasn't like that,' I insisted.
'Sephy, d'you want to live with Callum's mother?'
'She's got no one else,' I replied.
'That doesn't answer my question,' said Mother.
She'd noticed.
I'd taken the coward's way out and phoned Mother on the morning of my departure from the hospital. And even though I couldn't actually see her, I could still hear the hurt in her voice. And in some ways it was worse because my imagination filled in the blanks. My mind painted a picture of the bewilderment on her face, the disappointment clouding her eyes.
'I'm sorry, Mother,' I tried again.
'I thought you were serious about the two of us putting the past behind us and starting again
'I was. I am.'
But Mother wasn't listening. And I couldn't really blame her.
'So you'd rather live in some hut with a nought than come home with me?' asked
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