Hide and seek, p.5
Hide and Seek, page 5
“Aren’t you in constant contact with one another? I thought teenagers spent their lives on their phones.”
“I didn’t say we weren’t in touch.” I was blushing. “I just didn’t want to talk to you about him.”
“Oh, come on,” Dan said. “I was just asking if it had turned out to be true love after all. I don’t want the details.”
I tried to keep all the emotion out of my voice. He’d never know I was embarrassed. “Things are going fine.”
“Fine,” he repeated. “You know, Jess, you seem like a sensible girl. But I know teenagers, and I know you have no sense at all when you’re with someone you care about. It’s too easy to get carried away. Let things go too far. Take risks.”
I felt my stomach lurch as if we’d just driven over a bump in the road. He couldn’t be talking about what I thought he was talking about. Especially since it wasn’t even relevant, currently. We hadn’t. We hadn’t even talked about it. I wasn’t going to say that to Dan. “Um. OK.”
He glanced at me, frowning. “You know what I’m trying to say. Make sure you’re taking the appropriate precautions. You only have to be careless once to ruin your whole life.”
I swallowed a couple of times before I could trust myself to speak. “I did know that, actually.”
“Yes, because you’re sensible. I said as much to Will.”
I was stuck between thinking how unappealing it was to be described as “sensible”—and cold horror. “You talked about this with Will?”
“Of course. It’s his responsibility too.”
“Did you say about the life-ruining bit?”
Dan considered it. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
Will had been an accident, the product of a rebound relationship that had limped on into marriage. A relationship that had started when Dan and my mother had broken up, eighteen years before. “So you basically just told him he ruined your life.”
In the light of the dashboard, Dan looked amused. “I’m always honest with him. No point in pretending.”
Only so you don’t make your child aware you wish he didn’t exist.
I hadn’t said anything but Dan glanced at me again. “You disapprove.”
“I don’t think it was right to say that to him. It wasn’t his fault.”
“No.” A muscle flickered in Dan’s jaw. “It was his mother’s.”
“It takes two people to make babies, as I understand it.”
“Yeah, but only one of them gets to decide whether they go ahead and have the baby.”
“Her body, her choice.”
“That’s exactly what she said.”
“And if you’d got your way, there would have been no Will.” Just thinking about it made me shiver. It felt like walking out of bright sunshine into cold, dark shadows.
“I suppose not. So it’s a good thing Karen was determined to have him, isn’t it?” Dan gave me a tight-lipped smile that I didn’t return.
The truth was, I felt sorry for Dan, when he wasn’t tormenting Will. He was trapped with Will’s mother, Karen. She was a grade-A cow who hated me, my mother, and anything that might threaten her marriage or her son. She was also dying, slowly, of motor neuron disease.
It made it really hard to feel good about hating her.
“How is Karen?”
“The same.” Dan rubbed a hand over his jaw, testing the stubble. “She just stays in her room, popping pills and waiting for the end. If this was a decent society there’d be some arrangement for putting people like her out of their misery.”
“She’s not that ill at the moment.” I couldn’t hide the shock in my voice.
“Maybe not, but she will be. She’ll be trapped. No trips to Switzerland for a quick, dignified end if she leaves it too late.”
“Does she want to…?” I trailed off. I couldn’t say it. Dan, of course, could.
“Kill herself? I haven’t asked. But I would if I was in her shoes.”
I could imagine that. Dan was such a physical presence, strong and forceful. Being incapacitated would be worse than death for him.
We were heading along the main road. Just as we reached the end of Will’s road, a car slid out of the junction in front of us and fishtailed slightly before the driver got it under control. Dan swore as he hit the brakes, then looked sideways at me.
“Sorry.”
“I’ve actually heard those words before,” I said.
“Stupid…” He cast about for a suitable word and settled on: “Idiot. He could have caused an accident.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he made trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
It was my turn to look sideways at Dan. “Didn’t you recognize the car? That was my dad.”
We had just turned the corner into my road. Instead of driving along it as far as Sandhayes, Dan pulled in to the curb and put the hazard lights on. “Say that again.”
“It was my dad.”
“What was he doing up here?”
I shook my head. “You’re asking the wrong person. I see as little of him as possible.”
“He doesn’t live near here.”
“No. His apartment is by the marina.”
Dan nodded, thoughtful. “I knew that. So why was he here? Seeing your mum?”
“Wrong road—and ugh, I hope not.”
Dan’s expression darkened. “Is he still bothering her?”
“Not as much. He wants her to work for him.”
“He wants her back.”
“Probably,” I admitted.
“She’s not going back.”
“I hope not.”
Dan narrowed his eyes. “Why would she?”
“Look, I don’t know why she married him in the first place.” Except that she wanted to escape this place, and you. “I’m glad she did because otherwise I wouldn’t exist, but it was a total disaster for her. She’d have to be out of her mind to consider going back to him.”
Dan ran his hand round the steering wheel, obviously concentrating on something else. “She fell for him before.”
“That was a long time ago. And she was running away. People do stupid things when they’re desperate.”
“I know all about that.” Dan gave me one of his very rare real smiles. It faded as he stared out through the windscreen. Almost to himself, he said, “I wonder…”
What I was mainly wondering was whether we were going to sit in the car all night. I put my hand on the door handle. “Thanks for the lift. I can walk from here.”
It made him snap back to reality from wherever he’d been drifting. He started the car again. “Don’t be silly. I said I’d take you home.”
He meant what he said. When he got to the big stone gateposts that marked Sandhayes out from its more modern neighbors, he drove the car in, wheels crunching on the loose gravel. The headlights swept across the front of the house, catching the yellow of Hugo’s battered Fiat, and my uncle’s pick-up truck, and Mum’s tiny Nissan Micra.
“I see Molly’s at home.” Dan sounded relieved.
“Well, her car is.” I saw it hit home. Here’s some payback for making me paranoid about Will. How does it feel, Dan?
“Is she out?”
“I don’t know,” I said, undoing my seat belt. “But it’s possible.”
Dan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Give her my best.”
I popped open the door and jumped out. I turned back to throw the notebook and pen onto the passenger seat. “Thanks again.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even wait for me to close the door before he began to turn; the handle was pulled out of my hand and the door slammed shut all by itself.
And somehow I wasn’t surprised when I heard the car accelerate away, heading down the hill into town, rather than up to where his dying wife was waiting for him to come home.
6
I let myself into the house, and was halfway across the hall when I stopped. It was the sharp, sweet scent of pine that got my attention; that and a certain tension in the atmosphere. Oh, and the tree trunk that was sticking out of the living room door.
“Um. Hello?” I said.
“Jess, is that you?” My aunt Tilly peered out from behind the tree, batting branches away from her face. She and my mother were identical twins, but I never confused them with one another; to me they looked totally different. “We’re all completely trapped in here, isn’t it ridiculous? Jack and Hugo managed to get the Christmas tree this far and no further, and now it’s stuck in the doorway. I don’t suppose you have any bright ideas?”
Standing on tiptoe, I could see that most of the family was in the living room. My youngest cousin, Tom, was balancing on the arm of the sofa, licking the jam off a piece of bread. Next in age was Petra, who was sitting on the floor, her dark, untidy head bent over a grubby tapestry she’d been working on for months. It was entirely like her to be getting on with her own task while chaos unfolded around her. Hugo, my older cousin, was sprawling in an armchair, looking tormented in a languid way, as if the entire situation was too much for him. Jack, my uncle, stood behind Tilly with his hands on his hips, looking as if he’d like to disown us all and use the tools on his work belt to reduce the tree to sawdust.
“Whose idea was this?” It seemed like a safe question to ask.
“I chose it.” Tilly bit her thumb, as close to shamefaced as she ever got. “It looked smaller when it was with all the others.”
“There was a label on it saying it was a ten-foot tree,” Jack said.
“I know, I saw it. So?”
“So you clearly don’t understand that a ten-foot tree is unlikely to fit through the doors. Just like last year.” Jack put his arms around Tilly and squeezed her, taking the sting out of his criticism. “I knew it was trouble when I went to collect it. And just like last year, we got it through the front door but came a cropper when we reached this point.”
“What did you do last year?” I asked.
“Jack hacked it to bits,” Tilly said.
He clutched his head, outraged. “I trimmed a bit off the sides. It was the only thing to do.”
“It looked terrible. Completely the wrong shape.” Tilly frowned at the tree. “I don’t want that to happen this year.”
“Then you should have bought a smaller tree.” Hugo sat up in his armchair. “Really, this is so boring. It won’t fit through the door as it is, Mum. You are going to have to cut it back to get it into the room.”
“Or you could set it up out here,” I suggested. “The hall is big enough. It could go by the stairs.”
Petra looked up from the tapestry, pushing her heavy fringe back. “It always goes in here.”
“Maybe it’s time for a change,” I said.
“Yes.” Jack grinned at me. “Finally, someone who understands logical thinking.”
Tilly sighed. “I was sure it would fit.”
“But it doesn’t.” Hugo unfolded himself and stretched, taking up an unfeasible amount of space as he did so. He had the wingspan of an albatross. “Let’s move it back.”
“You’ll damage it.” Tilly crouched down and put her arms over the tree protectively. “You can’t just shove it. All the little branches will snap off and I’ll have nowhere to hang the decorations. I know you, Hugo. You’ll pretend to be careful and then you’ll ruin it.”
“I won’t,” he protested.
“You don’t care about how the tree looks.”
“I do, but I also want to leave this room at some point in my life.” Hugo ran his hands through his hair, making it stand on end. “Please let’s just move it and decorate it and have done with it. I’ve got things to do and Tom is hungry.”
Tilly looked perplexed. “How do you know?”
“He’s always hungry.”
Tom launched himself off the arm of the sofa and landed on the floor with a thud that shook the glass in the dusty old chandelier. “I am hungry, Mum.”
“Eat your bread and jam.”
“I did.”
Tilly closed her eyes for a moment. “All right. You can put the tree in the hall. But you’re not climbing out over it. You’ll have to go out the living room window.”
“Yay!” Tom scampered over and started undoing the locks with practiced ease.
“I thought that was banned,” Petra said. “Because of Tom falling out and breaking his arm.”
“This once, it’s all right.”
“But if there’s a rule—”
“Petra!” We all said it together.
“Sorry for asking.” Petra went back to her tapestry.
“So, why do we have to have such a big tree?” I asked.
“Because we have to fit those on it.” Tilly pointed at the stack of battered cardboard boxes that was occupying one corner of the big drafty hall.
“There are a million Christmas decorations in those boxes, and they all have to be on the tree or someone will complain,” Petra said.
“Who would even notice?”
“Everyone. We all have our favorites. You’ll see.”
What I mainly saw was that my Leonard cousins had a way of turning everything into a ritual that had to be observed in minute detail: you could have the yellow jug at breakfast but never at tea, and family birthdays had to be celebrated for a full week, and whoever got up last on Saturday morning got stuck with doing the dishes for the rest of the week. Every day there were new rules and traditions to learn, new family words to adopt, new in-jokes and favorites and grievances. I hadn’t grown up with siblings and I sometimes felt like a castaway learning how to live with a strange tribe on a distant island where I’d washed ashore. There were times when I felt uncomfortably aware that I was a Tennant, not a Leonard. My dad’s side—logical, cynical, practical, stubborn—ruled my head, even though I longed with all my heart to belong to my mother’s family.
Tom and Hugo sauntered into the hall behind me, followed by Jack and Petra, who had abandoned her tapestry for the time being. Mum came out of the kitchen, looking tired, but she smiled when she saw me. I felt a huge surge or relief that she was at home after all, safe from my father’s attentions, and Dan’s.
I put my arms around her. “Good day?”
She’d been working at the Christmas market, running a stall for the gallery that was her main source of income. “It was busy. And cold. Are you helping on the stall tomorrow?”
I’d promised to, I remembered. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Wear thermals,” Mum whispered, and gave me another hug.
Hugo tripped and swore. “If you’re going to bring half the garden into the house, Mum, the least you could do is put it somewhere well-lit.”
“Sorry,” Tilly said. “I wanted to cut the holly and ivy before it got dark.”
Hugo was crouching down beside the heap of greenery. He looked up, his cheekbones so sharp you could cut yourself on them. “All this holly and ivy, and no mistletoe.”
“We didn’t have any in the garden.”
“It’s the most important thing. Isn’t it, Jess?” He grinned slyly. “Especially since I hear Will is back in town.”
“Don’t be a creep, Hugo,” I said. He was always trying to get a reaction from me, which I took as a sign of affection. He’d added me to his list of legitimate targets as soon as he’d decided I was family.
He widened his eyes, all innocence. “It’s not for my benefit.”
“I should hope not, since Ella’s in London.” Ella was my best friend and Hugo’s girlfriend, a fact that made my head spin slightly. Hugo had been edgier than usual since she left Port Sentinel. Since Hugo was edgy at the best of times, that didn’t make life easy for the rest of us.
“I’d never cheat on Ella,” he said flatly. “I’m thinking of you and Will.”
“Well, stop,” I snapped. The wind blew the front door back against the wall, catching loose holly leaves and sending them skittering across the tiles like mice, and a voice came from behind them.
“Yes, stop.”
I turned, along with everyone else in the hall, and looked at the tall figure standing in the doorway. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. Clear gray eyes that were currently narrow with amusement.
“Will…” I said it on a breath and it was barely audible.
“You’re back! That’s so … nice!” Petra was rather unsuccessfully trying to hide her crush on Will, a crush that predated my arrival in Port Sentinel by many years.
“You get more grown up every time I see you.” Tilly beamed at him with maternal pride.
“Oh, good. You can help with the tree.” Jack, pure practicality, as usual.
“Now that Will’s here, is it time for dinner?” Tom, inevitably.
“Speak of the devil.” The last contribution was from Hugo, who crossed the hall and pulled him into a hug. Partners in crime, inseparables, friends above all, through everything—it made me jealous to see how close Will and Hugo were. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you.” Will worked his way round the hall, doling out hugs and kisses on cheeks and a brief ruffle of Tom’s hair. I saw Mum’s face when he bent to kiss her cheek; there was something sad in her eyes. Of course, Will reminded her of his father at the same age. I just hoped we weren’t doomed to repeat our parents’ ill-starred relationship. He went past me without even glancing in my direction. I stepped up onto the bottom tread of the stairs and leaned my head against the newel post. This was his first visit to Sandhayes since he’d got back and he’d known the Leonards for a very long time. He was closer to them than to his own parents. In a very real sense, they were his family. So of course he had to concentrate on them, and not on me. But it made the doubt prickle under my skin again.
And then he turned away from Jack and came straight toward me, the compass needle to true North. Because I was on the step, my face was almost at the same level as his.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi, yourself.”
“I didn’t think you were coming back for ages.”
He grinned. “I wanted to surprise you.” Then his mouth was on mine. I slid my arms around his neck, ignoring a sigh from Petra and a snort of derision from Hugo and retching sounds from Tom as his father cuffed him round the head.
Obviously I wasn’t able to ignore them completely. But I gave it my best shot.
