Текст книги "You Against Me "
Автор книги: Дженни Даунхэм
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
He didn’t notice his wife smiling at Mikey as if she was sorry. She knows he’s a git, Mikey thought, and she wants us all to forgive him. He recognized the look from his mother’s face. She wore it whenever she got pissed and started getting nostalgic about some old boyfriend. Mikey wished he could gob in the soup. And that would just be for starters.
Back in the kitchen he envied Jacko, sweating now from the ovens, turning the parsnips off their baking tray, emptying steaming piles of peas into bowls. Dex was sprinkling cheese over the finished lasagne. It was familiar in here.
‘How’s the real world?’ Jacko asked.
‘Full of tossers.’
‘Could have told you that.’
Which was a small moment of warmth.
Maybe Mikey had been imagining the bad vibes, maybe everything was still OK between them. Just to check, he said, ‘I’m going to get the bastard, you know. I promised Karyn and I haven’t given up on it.’
Jacko shrugged. ‘You need to hurry up, that’s all I’m saying, or it’ll never be done.’
He made it sound as if he was in charge, as if Mikey hadn’t spent days churning all the details round in his head.
‘All right,’ Mikey said, ‘what about Saturday?’
Jacko nodded. ‘I’m up for that.’
‘We both get a half day. We’ll do the golf‑club thing.’
They high‑fived to seal the deal. Mates again.
Seventeen
Ellie sat on the harbour wall watching the boats bob up and down and listening to the rigging wires sing. She was cold and bored, because although the tide was going out and revealing the beach, nothing else was happening. The bloke fishing on the end of the jetty hadn’t caught a single thing in the last ten minutes, the sun wasn’t coming out and the mist wasn’t clearing.
The odd thing about it was that somewhere up there, the weather was fine. The sun was simply trapped behind a cobwebbed sky. Only a mile or two down the coast, the day was probably blazing. Perhaps Tom was enjoying a sunny game of golf with Freddie, or sitting in the clubhouse with a pint of cold cider in his hand.
She was still furious with him for leaving her in the middle of nowhere with only a fiver. There wasn’t a bus for hours and maybe he’d known that. He’d definitely known there was no way she was going to tell their parents he’d dumped her, because she’d get a massive bollocking for bunking school if she did.
She’d start walking back into town in a minute. It couldn’t be more than three miles and she thought she remembered the way. She’d wander round the shops, or maybe go to the library until school was out, then go to the gate and see if any of the girls in her year wanted to hang out. It was about time she had some friends. Maybe she’d even tell them about the river and the gatecrasher to make herself seem more interesting. They might not believe her of course, because no one believed her when she said she’d kissed Danny at the Christmas party. Sometimes she even wondered herself if any of the good things that happened to her were true, because they seemed fleeting compared to the bad things.
Even her amazing plan had gone wrong. She’d thought of it almost as soon as Tom had dumped her, and had immediately put it into action – the gatecrasher had said he worked in a pub by the harbour; well, then she would find him and spend the rest of the day sitting at the bar chatting to him.
The first pub she tried was the White Horse and it was full of old men clutching pints. They turned round en masse to stare at her when she opened the door, and although she managed to stutter that she was looking for someone who worked there, they all laughed at her, because the man behind the bar was about a hundred years old and was the only employee.
In the Earl of Mowbray, she was braver, even made it to the bar to ask if a boy worked there. She described him – dark, tall, about eighteen. The barman gave her a lewd smile and said, ‘Won’t I do, darling?’
She blushed furiously, and again she was laughed at.
‘What’s his name then, love?’ the barman said as she made her way back to the door. And Ellie realized that she still didn’t know, and the whole enterprise suddenly seemed ridiculous and humiliating. She’d wanted to walk in and see his smile, to sit down with him and have a drink. She’d imagined he’d give her a lift home, that they’d arrange to meet later. This day had seemed such a gift, but it was turning out to be worse than school.
She stood up to collect her bag, but was distracted by a sudden movement down on the jetty. The fisherman was unhooking his rod from its tripod and he must’ve caught something big, because the whole line was bending. Ellie leaned right over the harbour wall to see better.
And there, through the mist and cloud, a fish shimmered silver against the sky before crashing at the man’s feet. He bent down and grabbed it round the neck before it could slip back into the water. With his other hand he reached blindly down next to him and brought up a large stone.
Ellie leaned forward. He was going to kill it. Weren’t you supposed to chuck them back in?
The man lifted the stone above his head and, without even hesitating, smashed it down so hard that the fish’s head caved in. Even from where Ellie was standing, she could see its brains ooze onto the jetty.
She was stunned. One minute the fish had been thrashing and wild, gasping in air. And now it was dead. For the first time, the man looked up and noticed her.
‘Mackerel,’ he shouted.
Like knowing its name made a difference. She pretended she hadn’t heard because she didn’t want to have a conversation with a psychopathic fish‑killer. She kept an eye on him while he put the fish in a bucket, then retied his line and whipped it back out to sea. Only when he sat down on his little seat, took out a lunchbox and unwrapped a sandwich did she stop watching him.
She sat back down on the wall for a second and wondered what would happen next. Maybe she’d plummet into the sea and get hypothermia. Or maybe psycho‑man would creep up behind her and bash her on the head with his stone. Or maybe she’d be overcome by a vegetarian fury and creep up on him instead and kick him off the end of the jetty. Maybe she’d do something even braver than that – like steal a boat and sail to Scandinavia.
It began to amuse her. It was like that film Sliding Doors, where the tube doors closed on Gwyneth Paltrow. In one version of the story, she caught the train, met a lovely bloke called James and got home to find her boyfriend, Gerry, in bed with another woman. In the second version, she missed the train and ended up getting mugged.
Ellie had choices, didn’t she? Loads of them. Today, she’d expected to go to school, yet ended up at the harbour. Later, she’d go home and her parents would ask about her day and she could lie or tell the truth. Which course of action she chose would make an entirely different set of events occur.
That’s why Tom was mad at her – she could choose, and he couldn’t. She could agree to be his witness and say she saw nothing, or she could refuse. Maybe he was right and the police would question her again. They might even force her to go to court, but she didn’t have to open her mouth and say anything. How could they make her? What could they do?
She got up from the wall, determined. Here she was feeling sorry for herself, when all the time she had this amazing ability to decide what happened next. Well, she wasn’t giving up looking for the gatecrasher then, because he’d texted her five times, which meant he was keen, and over there was the tourist information office, and how many pubs could there be?
If she didn’t find him, time would have passed and then she’d get the bus home. If she did find him, she’d swish her hair about and lick her lips slowly and say, Well, hi, fancy meeting you here. Boys fell for that stuff.
Eighteen
Ellie opened the door of the Queen’s Head slowly and was immediately hit by the warm stink of food and beer. She felt primitive coming in from the mist, as if she was a wild girl and warmth and shelter meant little to her. She was a girl who invited boys to graveyards and dared them to jump in rivers. She was a girl who boldly entered the information office and demanded to know where every pub in the vicinity of the harbour was. The man had even let her borrow his pen so that she could mark them on the map with red ink.
If he was in here, she would shimmy up behind him, her hand on her hip like the world owed her something, and she’d fix her eyes on him until he felt an irresistible pull at his heart. She’d make him turn round simply by looking at his back.
The woman behind the bar frowned as Ellie approached. She was wearing a name badge that said SUE, MANAGER.
‘I can’t serve you without ID,’ she said.
‘It’s OK, I don’t want a drink. I’m looking for someone who might work here. A boy.’
The woman laughed. ‘Are you now? Well, only two lads work for me – Mikey or Jacko. Which one are you after?’
She knew it wasn’t Jacko, because he was the boy in the car the other day. Ellie found herself grinning.
‘It’s Mikey I want.’
‘I thought you might say that.’ The woman pointed beyond the bar to a carpeted dining area. ‘There he is, right at the back.’
He was standing at a table with a group of elderly women smiling up at him. He looked solid and confident, entirely unlike any boy at school. Adrenalin flooded her body as she watched him.
‘He the one?’
‘Yes, that’s him.’
The woman tutted. ‘Bringing his love life to work again, is he? I’ll be having words with Mister McKenzie.’
‘McKenzie?’
‘Yes, love, and if you’re his new girlfriend you can wait till he’s on his lunch break, which will be in precisely five minutes. And since you’re very evidently not eighteen, could you please step away from the bar.’
Mikey McKenzie? But that meant…
The name affected her physically. She felt light‑headed and nauseous.
‘Take a seat in the family lounge, please, and I’ll tell him you’re here.’
She lurched to the seats the woman pointed to and sat down. She wanted to get to the door, to get away, but if she moved that far, something might break. Nobody took any notice of her – the customers in the other seats were chatting to each other, or staring blankly at the TV screen. Her world had shifted and nobody knew it but her.
The manager came back. ‘He’s on his way, and you can tell him from me that if he spends one minute longer than his regulation half‑hour with you, he can consider himself sacked.’
She smiled to show she didn’t really mean it, but Ellie didn’t smile back. She couldn’t. She could barely breathe.
He came over slowly, with a strange reluctant walk. He said, ‘What are you doing here?’
She squinted at him, as if the mist was in the bar, as if she’d brought it in with her. She could see the resemblance now – the same dark hair and eyes. Why hadn’t she seen it before? It was all so obvious and terrible – he was Karyn McKenzie’s brother.
He sat down, frowning. ‘How did you know where I worked?’
‘You said a pub by the harbour.’
‘I didn’t say which one.’
‘Well, I was just passing this one and thought I’d check it out.’
‘Just passing?’
She felt such an idiot. She’d been out in the mist and got hold of some stupid fantasy that he’d be pleased to see her, that she meant something to him. Her face was burning with shame as she stood up. ‘You know what? I’m going to go.’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’
He shook his head. ‘Something is.’
How could he read her better than anyone she knew? Better than her own brother?
‘I’m fine. I had an argument with someone, that’s all.’
‘You want to talk about it?’
‘Not really.’
‘I’m a good listener.’
Her heart lurched. That was sweet. Maybe he didn’t know who she was after all. Maybe it was all some amazing coincidence that meant they were destined to be together for ever.
But then she noticed his name badge. ‘So, you’re called Tyler?’
He looked down at himself and frowned. ‘It’s not my real name.’
Tom said Karyn McKenzie was a liar. Obviously the whole family was, since everything about this boy was fake. He’d targeted the party, rather than stumbled across it, he’d deliberately chatted her up because he knew who she was. Even now, as he looked her up and down, his eyes warm and flirtatious, it was only an act.
‘You look nice,’ he said. ‘Windswept, but pretty.’
She didn’t even blush, didn’t say something dumb, like, Oh no, I don’t, because she knew he didn’t mean it, he was trying to manipulate her.
‘I’m going now,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you around.’
‘You’ll see me around? You came all this way and now you’re going?’
‘I’m sorry. It was a stupid idea.’
‘It wasn’t. Don’t go, I’ve got a break now. Let me get my jacket and we can sit outside.’
‘It’s cold out there.’
‘Then we’ll have to sit very close together.’
He smiled, and she couldn’t help it, she smiled back. She was pathetic. Even when she knew he was trying to trick her, she still liked him. She was like some brainless girl in a horror movie, the kind of girl you scream at from the sofa because she can’t see that she should leave right now or she’ll be turned into mince.
‘I’ll just be a minute,’ he said. ‘Don’t go away.’
She stood outside the main door, running the choices through her head. She could get the bus back into town and never see him again. Or she could stay and find out what he was up to.
The McKenzies were liars, which meant Tom was telling the truth. And if Tom was telling the truth, then she needed to put aside her stupid doubts about what happened that night and help him, as any sister should.
If she asked Mikey the right questions, if she flirted and got him to let his guard down, she might find out stuff which could get the case thrown out of court. She’d end up a hero and Dad and Tom would be grateful for ever.
She took a breath and switched on a smile. It was too good an opportunity to miss.
Nineteen
Something had changed in her by the time he came back with his jacket, because she took his hand, actually took his hand, and led him across the car park to the sea wall.
‘There’s a bench over there,’ she said. ‘Come on.’
The tide was out and a stretch of sand had opened up. Mikey looked in both directions, up and down the beach, but apart from a bloke with a dog, and another bloke fishing, there were no people about.
‘I think we should go down,’ he said. ‘It’ll be less windy.’
‘No, let’s stay here. It’s a better view.’
She sat on the bench and patted the space next to her. She really was very pretty. It was like it was dawning on him, like she got prettier and prettier the longer he looked. Her skin was so smooth and she had the most amazing eyes – blue with splashes of grey in them.
He cast a quick look around. Did it matter if they sat up here? It was more exposed, but apart from Jacko, no one round here would know who she was. He yanked his hood up just to be safe and sat down.
She shuffled close and leaned in to him.
‘Look at that,’ she said. ‘So much water just for us.’
Mikey had seen people do this plenty of times, just sitting watching the sea doing its thing – in and out. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the wind, or the smell of the beach or the way the waves never gave up, it was that he’d never seen the point of it. But today was different. Today he was with Ellie.
He had to do things right, treat her right. What was it his mum always said? If you want a girl to like you, you have to listen like a woman and love like a man. She reckoned that men hardly ever ask questions and when they do, they never listen to the answers.
He’d start with something simple, to get into the swing of things.
‘So, why aren’t you at school?’ he said.
‘I bunked it.’
‘Second time in five days, eh?’
‘Oh, I’ve got no shame.’
That sent a thrill of something through him. He wanted to touch her, especially her hair. It was loose and snapping in the wind. Seaside hair with strands of blonde among the gold. He coughed, shuffled about on the bench and adjusted his jacket, tried to concentrate.
‘How did you get here?’ he said. ‘Did you walk or get the bus?’
‘My brother gave me a lift.’ A pause, then, ‘You met my brother, didn’t you?’
He nodded, fumbled in his pocket for his tobacco. ‘Yeah, at the party. Just for a minute, near the end.’
‘Ah, yes,’ she said, ‘the party. The one you gatecrashed.’
He pinched tobacco into a paper and rolled it, aware she was looking at him. ‘You sound like a cop.’
‘Which makes you the criminal.’ She was so quick at answers. She glittered with cleverness.
He offered her the finished rollie. ‘You want this?’
‘I don’t smoke.’
‘Sensible.’
Still she was watching him. He lit up and took a drag, pulled it down hard. ‘So,’ he said, ‘tell me about this argument, who was it with?’
‘It’s too long to tell.’
‘I’ve got time.’
‘I’d rather talk about you.’
That wasn’t what was meant to happen next. What was the point of asking girls questions if they refused to answer? And what were you supposed to do when they turned it round and asked you stuff?
‘Tell me a secret,’ she said. ‘Tell me something about you that I don’t know.’
What was she expecting? A confession that he was married or gay or something? He took a drag of his cigarette, then another, before he thought of the perfect thing.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘I don’t really go to college.’
She looked surprised. ‘Why did you say you did?’
‘I thought you wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t clever. I work here full‑time, but I’m learning stuff I’d never discover at college. There’s a great chef and he’s teaching me.’
He wasn’t sure she understood how important this was and he wanted her to know. ‘I’ve always liked those cooking programmes on the telly – you know the ones? I want to be like Jamie Oliver and run a whole kitchen. It’s very complicated, takes years to learn.’
Ellie nodded as if she was really listening. She asked him how long he’d worked in the pub and what his hours were. She asked about Jacko and how long they’d known each other. He told her everything, including his dream of working in a top London restaurant. He hadn’t meant to let that one out, but she was so easy to talk to, taking every word somewhere deep inside. He could have sat there all day talking. But then he remembered his mum’s advice.
‘You tell me a secret now,’ he said.
‘OK.’ She leaned in close. ‘Here’s my secret. I’m hopeless at cooking, I can’t even make cakes from packets, or follow recipes or anything, but’ – and here she moved closer, her breath hot in his ear – ‘I think boys who cook are very sexy, and, one day, I’d like you to show me how you do it.’
He laughed out loud. ‘That’s a promise.’
It was weird. At the pub she’d seemed frightened, as if she was worried he hadn’t wanted to see her. But out here, it was like she was running the show. She was totally flirting with him, it was great. It was obvious she wanted something to happen between them. It gave him confidence.
‘So what else do you find sexy, then?’
‘Easy.’ She held out a hand to count on her fingers. ‘Boys who play guitar, boys who make me laugh, boys who have a nice smile and boys who never lie.’
Shit! That was a lot to live up to, especially the no‑lying bit.
‘Can you play guitar?’ she said.
‘No, but I had a drumming lesson once.’
She rolled her eyes as if that was a total let‑down. Well, maybe he should try and be funny then.
‘I’ll tell you my little sister’s favourite joke,’ he said.
‘Go on then.’
‘OK, what do you call a sheep with no legs?’
She wrinkled her nose to think about it. He liked that. She had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose that he’d never noticed before.
‘I give up.’
‘A cloud.’
She groaned, rather than laughed. But she leaned in to him to do it, and her hair brushed his face. He kissed the top of her head, suddenly, out of the blue. He hadn’t meant to, it just happened – right there on a bench outside the pub. And although a faraway part of him knew it was a bad idea, there was a much closer, bigger part of him that wasn’t going to stop. Not while she didn’t move away, not while his kisses climbed down her hair to her neck and one of his hands crept inside her coat to pull her closer.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered.
She went very still, then slowly pulled away. She looked startled. He felt a bit surprised too – as if he’d said he loved her, which he never had to any girl. It was one of his rules.
Her eyes flickered. ‘Beautiful?’
‘Totally.’
‘What about my scar?’
‘I like it.’
She looked down at herself. ‘What about my legs? I’ve got horrible legs.’
‘No, you’ve got beautiful legs.’ To prove it he got off the bench and inspected both ankles, cupping each foot in turn.
‘My shoes might be dirty.’
She was wearing her school skirt and tights, like before. It filled him with longing and fear to be down there, close to her feet, close to her ankles, her knees, her thighs.
She took a handful of his jacket and pulled it gently, so he had to look up.
‘Maybe you should come and sit back down?’
But he couldn’t move. He was an animal, wild and hungry. He let his tongue hang out, did that panting thing dogs did, hoping for a smile. He rubbed his head against her thigh like he wanted stroking.
But she didn’t stroke him. In fact, she went a bit quiet and moved along the bench and looked at her mobile.
‘Don’t you need to go soon?’ she said. ‘Won’t you get sacked or something?’
It was very complicated, the way she went from flirting to cool, but he knew she liked him, however much she was avoiding it now.
‘I want to see you again,’ he said. ‘Will you meet me after my shift? I finish at ten.’
‘I’m busy tonight.’
Of course, she was only sixteen and it was a weekday evening – what was he thinking?
‘I get a half‑day on Saturday,’ he said. ‘I’ll meet you in the afternoon, we’ll do something.’
She stood up, made a big show of adjusting her bag on her shoulder, then folded her arms at him. ‘What will we do?’
He should’ve thought before he opened his big mouth. It had to be quality with a girl like her. Not a pub or a club, but somewhere amazing – hot‑air ballooning, or a trip in a space ship. It also had to be somewhere far away from everywhere.
‘I know. I’ll borrow my mate’s car and we’ll do that wild swim thing. You remember telling me about some place where the waves are really massive?’
She frowned at him, like that was the worst idea in the world. But he was burning with it. It was what he wanted to do more than anything else. Just for a bit. For a day. A half‑day. An hour. To be alone with her.
Seconds went past. Ellie chewed her lip and stared down at the beach. The bloke with the dog was still there and the dog was yapping because the bloke was holding a ball a fraction out of its reach. Ellie watched them. Out of the corner of his eye, Mikey watched her.
This was deep for her. She was only in Year Eleven and he was two years older and knew stuff about the world. It was his job to make her feel OK.
‘Nothing can happen unless you want it to,’ he said.
Which wasn’t strictly true – just look at Karyn. But it would be true for Ellie. Eventually she’d give stuff away about her brother, and he wasn’t going to hurt her while he looked for it. They’d hang out, kiss some more. No harm done.
‘Ellie, come out with me, come on. What are you scared of?’
‘Not of you.’ She whipped round, her eyes shining. ‘All right, let’s do it then.’
It was like she was accepting a dare.
Twenty
All sensible websites suggest that you meet a potentially dangerous stranger in a crowded place, and that you tell a family member or a friend what you are doing. And here Ellie was, Saturday lunchtime, about to break the rules. In less than two hours, Mikey McKenzie would arrive at her house, and no one knew he was coming and no one but her would be in.
RSN, he texted.
He was right, it was going to be real soon now.
Ellie threw the phone onto her bed as if it was hot, then opened her bedroom window and looked out at the storm, at the dark clouds and fat splashing rain. She leaned on her elbows and watched. A cat dived for cover, cracks in the lawn sucked water into their grooves and all the trees sighed.
She gave revising a try, lay on her bed with geography books and tried to care about the movement of people from rural to urban areas following the industrial revolution. But thinking of big stuff made her feel small, and when she felt small, she stopped caring about revising and GCSEs and what happened next. It was easy to break any taboo when nothing mattered, so she picked up her phone and texted, TAU. It was true, she was thinking about him. He was pretty much all she’d been thinking about since Monday at the harbour.
His text came whizzing back: XOXOXO.
A series of hugs and kisses.
She needed food. Diets didn’t count in a crisis.
Her parents were sitting holding hands at the kitchen table. Cups of coffee and empty plates in front of them. They looked up and smiled as she walked in. It was lovely, like a normal family again.
‘Hungry?’ Mum said, pushing her chair back. ‘I’ve just made your dad a bacon butty. Want me to make you something?’
‘No thanks.’
Ellie knew what she wanted – one of Tom’s double chocolate muffins, kept in the bread bin and not to be eaten by anyone but him.
She ignored her mum’s frown as she helped herself and sat down to unwrap it. ‘You guys still going out?’
Her father nodded absently. ‘As soon as this rain eases up.’
They all looked out of the window, at the garden sinking under the weight of water. And that was it. Extent of conversation. Ellie’s journey down the stairs and into the kitchen had lightened the mood for a nanosecond. It was weird how there was nothing left to say or do that didn’t relate to Tom. They fell back into grief so easily.
Eventually, Mum took a sip of her coffee, grimaced and put the cup back down. ‘I can’t believe it’s the weekend again,’ she said. ‘I keep thinking any minute this will stop and we’ll go back to normal.’
Dad wiped a hand across his brow. He looked tired. ‘We shouldn’t expect normal any more. Not if that little bitch insists on going through with this.’
That was new, that word, and the way he spat it out.
‘Should you be calling her that, Dad?’
He looked at Ellie open‑mouthed. ‘She’s in the process of ruining your brother’s life!’
‘It’s a horrible word, that’s all.’
He shook his head as if she was clearly mad and let his eyes slide back to the window.
When she was a kid, Ellie had spent every Saturday morning with Dad in the park – they’d go to the playground, feed the ducks on the lake, see if they could find decent trees for her to climb. Mum did a yoga class, Tom had football, it was only the two of them. ‘Wild child,’ Dad called her, and he’d pick leaves and sticks from her hair and let her choose whatever she wanted from the café for lunch. But something changed when she got to eleven, like he shrank away. She was too big for cuddles, too old for games and messing around. It was a slow retreat. But sometimes, if Ellie really thought about it, she realized he hadn’t taken proper notice of her for years.
‘Twenty‑five miles in this weather,’ Dad said, ‘and when we get there, she won’t even recognize us.’
‘Simon,’ Mum said, ‘that’s my mother you’re talking about.’
He held up his hands. ‘So shoot me!’
Ellie sighed, checked her mobile. Just over an hour to go. No new messages. ‘So,’ she said, ‘are you coming back at the usual time?’
Her mum nodded. ‘Should be.’
‘Definitely,’ Dad said.
‘You’re only going to see Gran, right? Nothing else? You’re not going to the cottage to do more clearing out?’
‘Why all the questions?’ Dad said.
‘No reason.’ She pushed her plate away. She suddenly felt sick.
‘You shouldn’t’ve taken that muffin if you didn’t want it,’ Mum said. ‘In fact, you shouldn’t’ve taken it anyway.’ She slipped the muffin into the bin, licked her fingers then slotted her chair back under the table and began to rinse the plate in the sink.
Ellie checked her phone again. ‘And Tom’s out all day, is he?’
Her mum gave her a sad smile. ‘Might as well let him have fun while he can.’
‘Golf club,’ Dad said. ‘He’ll be indoors on the swing simulator if he’s got any sense. Exactly where I’d like to be right now, in fact.’
Ellie see‑sawed her fork, tilting it backwards and forwards. It left indents in the tablecloth.
Dad frowned at her. ‘Are you up to something, Eleanor?’
Yes, don’t leave me alone. I’ve done this foolish thing…
He said, ‘You’re supposed to be revising today, that’s what we agreed.’
History notes were scattered on her bedroom floor, her Art project lay half finished on her desk, she hadn’t even begun revising Spanish. If her father knew the extent to which she was falling behind, he’d freak. She’d probably be grounded until she was eighteen.
‘So,’ he said, ‘what subject is it today?’
She told him Geography – the only subject she’d done any work on since Monday.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘ox‑bow lakes.’ And he patted her briefly on the hand. ‘I envy you, Ellie. I wish I had something to take my mind off all this.’
Maybe she should tell him. I’ve invited Mikey McKenzie to the house. You know him, sure you do, he’s Karyn McKenzie’s brother. I’ve got a plan. Trouble is, it terrifies me…
‘This rain isn’t stopping,’ Mum said from the sink. ‘What shall we do?’
Dad stood up. ‘Let’s go. Get it over with.’ He looked down at Ellie. ‘Any messages for Gran?’
‘Um no, not really. Tell her I’ll come and see her soon. Tell her I miss her.’
He nodded, bent down and brushed the top of her head with a kiss. ‘Work well then.’
Warmth flooded through her. He hadn’t done that for years and years.
And now the ritual of finding things. Mum fumbled in her handbag for the car keys, which she eventually found in her coat pocket. Dad watched her in a distracted way before checking his own pockets for the keys she’d already found. He scooped up his wallet, turned on his mobile and then realized he had no idea where his glasses were. Mum, meanwhile, was convinced she’d lost her purse and had to root through her entire handbag again.
How vulnerable they seemed. How old and grey they’d be one day. I could come with you, Ellie wanted to say. I’ll look after you. Let me sit in the back of the car and we’ll sing songs. When we get to the nursing home, Gran will give us Murray Mints and we’ll take her out for a spin in her wheelchair.
