Accidental Crime - 9

Dawn

Jarrod made very few worthwhile contributions to the house’s DVD collection and Dawn was sorely disappointed to discover that the numerous boxes that she had foolishly offered to help carry up the stairs were instead full of books that had been stacked in alphabetical order, supported from beneath by book-case-defying hardbacks.

Still, at least readers were quiet, she thought, as the final box slipped to the floor beneath with a louder than expected thump. She never had managed to smooth out the dents caused by Natalie’s brief flirtation with tap-dancing.

‘Oh. Be careful with that,’ Jarrod interfered, offering his advice a full four seconds after the box had recovered its composure after Dawn’s momentary slip. She stared down at the still-aligned pile of books below her and then back at Jarrod’s fixed expression.

‘Sorry. Yes, they’re fine, it’s fine,’ she stumbled, unsettled by his consistent poise.

‘Is there a bookcase I can use?’

‘A bookcase?’

‘I have a lot of books. I was hoping there’d be a bookcase.’

She was sure she had shown him his room on the interview day. 

‘No. No, I’m afraid not. There’s room though. You can get one if you’d like. There’s a place nearby.’

‘I’ll need quite a big one. I’ve got lots of books and I expect to get more.’

‘Yes. Yes, I’d noticed.’ She found her eyes scanning the piles surrounding her, like a literary moat, and offered a few supportive nods before his words again drew her to him.

‘I’m reading Lawrence at the moment. Well, just one of his works, of course. I’ve read the others but this one, this one is something special.’ The Rainbow found itself presented by two proud hands. ‘Do you know it? It’s...relatively well known.’

‘Oh. I’m not sure. Let me have a look,’ she requested, seizing the opportunity to intimate a degree of familiarity. Her eyes flickered over each word of the blurb but her thoughts had turned to tea. ‘Mmm, looks great. Tea?’

He smiled an uncomfortable smile.

‘I’ll just put the kettle on. You just settle in, make yourself at home, read your book, whatever.’ She hurried out of the room, descending the stairs with haste, replaying her final words over and over in a futile attempt to determine whether she had struck an appropriate balance between welcoming and disinterested. Whatever the intention or impact, her words appeared to succeed, as it wasn’t until she had watched a full hour of Just like Heaven that he reintroduced her to his presence.

‘I thought you’d made tea,’ he commented with icy precision.

‘Er, yeah, sorry. I...I left it on the side for you. I didn’t think to bring it up. You can probably still drink it. The microwave’s in the corner.’ Her sense of guilt was immediately overtaken by irritation as his words arrived in unison with Elizabeth’s crucial moment of realisation. It mattered little that this was the third time Dawn had watched in wonder as Elizabeth and David fought off the trappings of life and death. Interruption dispelled the magic of the moment, relegating romantic revelations to mere background noise, as if their situation really didn’t matter.

‘I’m not sure I fancy it now. But thanks anyway. Maybe later.’ He slipped away, the damage done. Dawn raised her mug to her lips, the content long since devoured, and took a sip of tea-scented air. As she replaced it on the coaster with a chill of disappointment, she noticed that Lawrence had landed on the coffee table, stealthily overshadowing the DVD case that only moments earlier she had been tempted to re-examine in order to discover just who it was playing that Darryl character that she still failed to appreciate, even on the third attempt. It troubled her that she had missed him, that her two weeks of complete control over every single movement within the house were now solely confined to the pages of her journal.

His return troubled her further. He had brought Women in Love to the table, just in case the evening were to bring the end of The Rainbow. Dawn’s eyes lingered over the even larger paperback that now formed a perpendicular partnership with the barrier to Darryl-revelation. She paused Elizabeth mid-line and turned to Jarrod, who was in the process of tucking one leg beneath another in search of a suitable reading posture.

‘So, Jarrod, tell me, what do you do?’

He raised his eyebrows and maintained his hold of The Rainbow.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you know, I realised I hadn’t asked you yet about your job or anything. So...what do you do?’

‘Does it matter?’

Her parents appeared before her, their concerned expressions as vivid now as they had been then.

‘Well, no, of course it doesn’t matter, but, you know, I just thought I should know what you do really. If we’re going to be living together. It seems like the sort of thing I should know.’

He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose before turning to her to deliver his verdict.

‘It’s where you’re going, not what you’re doing, that matters.’

He reopened The Rainbow and left her staring at the cover that was now concealing his slightly quivering lip.

‘Who said that?’ Dawn finally asked, desperate to assign a more worthy philosopher.

‘Huh?’ Jarrod innocently inquired before adding the remainder of his words whilst continuing to look at the page before him. ‘Oh, no-one else that I know of. That’s one of mine actually.’ The last utterance was delivered with a rising and falling intonation that made it sound as if he had merely selected one of many slogans stored safely for opportune use, perhaps even publication at some point, developed and refined over the years.

‘It’s just that I have to put it on the contract,’ she finally added, concealing parental inquisitiveness beneath the dignity of a legal requirement.

Jarrod sighed and lowered the pages to reveal the source of his words.

‘Look. I’m not really doing anything yet. You’ll get your money, OK. I just don’t want to be labelled as something I’m not, if you know what I mean?’

‘Well, can’t we label you as something you are instead?’

He filed through his collection.

‘I am yet to find a label I am happy with.’ It was disappointing in comparison to his previous selection. He felt compelled to apologise. ‘I’m sorry. Just ignore me. If you really need to put something down then put something like Officer Worker. That covers enough. Leaves it open enough too.’

She pressed ‘play’, lowering the volume before being asked, before restlessly rising to her feet and exiting the room before he could utter another word. She heard the comforting sound of earnest dialogue disappear in an instant, Elizabeth and David vanquished by his press of the button, as Lawrence assumed dominance over another room.

She poured the neglected tea down the drain and returned to the simplicity of her bedroom, her eyes dwelling a little longer than the rest of her body on the reclining figure of an unspecified office worker.

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