When you were mine, p.29
When You Were Mine, page 29
‘Dunno, I didn’t think it was that bad.’ He nibbled her ear. ‘I seem to have remembered where you keep the key erogenous zones.’
‘Not what I meant, as you well know,’ she said, smiling.
‘I did all right then?’
‘Yes, you get full marks in the performance department. As if you couldn’t tell.’
‘Thanks. Means a lot coming from a certified professional.’
‘You know what I mean though. We’ll tell Ibs but Amelia can’t find out. Not yet.’
‘We’ll be careful.’ He rolled on top of her to plant a kiss on her nose. ‘I love you. Okay?’
‘More than okay.’
‘Tired?’ he whispered, sliding his hand over her hip.
‘Are you kidding?’ She rolled him over so she was on top. ‘We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
One Monday, Amelia got up at her extra-early summer holiday rising hour of nine a.m. Her mum started work at ten, so if she wanted a lift to the beach to hang out with her friends, she needed to be up with the world’s tardiest larks. Otherwise she’d be stuck in her room all day, trying to avoid Jordan.
She went to the bathroom and picked up the toothpaste tube.
‘Mum!’ she yelled. ‘Is this all the toothpaste?’
‘Think so!’ her mum called from downstairs.
‘There’s hardly any left!’
‘We’ve got an extra person living here now, haven’t we? Just manage as best you can and I’ll pick some up later.’
Amelia scowled at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth with a pea-sized amount of paste.
Some of Jordan’s stupid designer clothes were drying on a rack outside the bathroom and Amelia nearly tripped on it. She scowled at that too then made her way downstairs.
Jordan was making pancakes, wearing the shabby pink dressing gown of her mum’s he always had on in the mornings. Her mum was stuffing ham into bread buns for Amelia’s packed lunch.
‘Can’t you get a proper dressing gown?’ Amelia asked him.
‘Why, don’t you think this one suits me?’ he said, twirling for her.
‘It’s too short. I can see your pants.’
‘Is it?’ Jordan glanced down. ‘Hmm, it is a bit.’ He nudged Maggie. ‘Lucky I wore pants today, eh?’
Maggie smiled vaguely, but she didn’t look at him.
Amelia approved of this. She’d noticed a marked improvement in her mum and Jordan’s behaviour these past few days. They’d stopped the flirty touching, and her mum no longer laughed like an idiot at every joke he made. Amelia definitely felt more comfortable leaving them on their own now.
Getting used to Jordan sharing her home was another matter. She was still finding it hard to cope with a new person, a male person, with all his habits and his stuff and his… him all over the place. Telly Takeaway Night, formerly her favourite night of the week, was rubbish now. She felt totally left out while Jordan reminisced about what he called ‘the good old days’ – the days before she was born – with her parents.
She couldn’t even have her friends over any more, since Jordan’s stay was so super secret. The house was basically in lockdown, with everyone they knew under strict instructions not to call round because of decorators or something. She owed Georgia about five million sleepovers and she didn’t know when she’d be able to repay them.
‘Pancakes before you head off, kid?’ Jordan asked with a friendly smile. ‘You can’t sunbathe on an empty stomach.’
That was the other thing. He was always so nice to her. If he was horrid she could just happily resent him, but when he was all friendly he made her feel annoyed with him and guilty about it all at the same time. That was too many things to feel in one go.
‘No thanks,’ she muttered.
‘Your mum got blueberries. And golden syrup.’
‘Well… okay.’ She was a sucker for pancakes with blueberries. ‘But just one.’
‘There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ Jordan said, sliding one onto a plate for her. ‘Give it ten years and you might even smile at me.’
‘You’re not staying ten years, are you?’ she asked, horrified.
He smiled. ‘Just a figure of speech.’
‘How long are you staying? Are you moving out soon?’
‘Don’t be rude, Melie,’ her mum said, frowning.
‘Was just wondering.’ Amelia tucked into her pancake. ‘Mum, can I sleep at Georgia’s tonight?’
‘No you can’t. You’ve been staying there far too much recently.’
‘Mum!’
‘No, Amelia. It’s not fair on Sally. You can spend time with your family for a change.’
‘Fine. Whatever then.’ She swallowed down the last of the pancake. ‘I’m going to pack my swim stuff.’
‘Just a sec,’ her mum said. ‘You still haven’t told me what you want to do for your birthday. Fourteen’s kind of a big deal, isn’t it?’
‘I remember fourteen,’ Jordan said. ‘Had my first proper snog at my fourteenth birthday party. Jojo Pippin, we went to the same dentist. Nearly got our braces stuck together.’
Maggie nudged him. ‘No giving her ideas, you. So what do you think, Melie?’
She shrugged. ‘Dunno. Anything.’
‘We could take some of your friends out to Bristol for Laser Quest and Maccy Ds.’
Amelia curled her lip. ‘No thanks. We’re not nine.’
‘Well, have a think, okay?’
‘Oh.’ Amelia produced a piece of paper from her pocket. ‘Mum, can you and Dad take me to this? It can be my birthday treat if you want. It’s for families but it’s in a pub so I need an adult to go with me.’
Maggie took the paper from her. It was a flyer for some band, Sleek Geek, playing at The Blue Lagoon that weekend.
‘It’s just a band I want to see,’ Amelia said. ‘Some of them go to my school.’
Maggie smiled. ‘Ah. Isaac Helms.’
Amelia started. ‘What?’
‘He’s the bassist, it says here. Funny, I thought I remembered you mentioning an Isaac before.’
Amelia flushed. ‘That’s nothing to do with it.’
‘Sorry, who’s Isaac Helms?’ Jordan asked.
‘The older boy she likes,’ Maggie told him.
‘Mum!’
Maggie glanced at the date on the flyer. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie, it’s this Saturday. I’m away at the conference, remember?’
‘Can Dad take me then?’
‘He’s got plans with Nat. I’m sure he’d cancel for you normally but it’s kind of important, he’s meeting Nat’s mum and dad.’
‘I could always take you,’ Jordan said. ‘I mean, if it’s okay with your parents.’
Amelia stared at him. ‘You?’
‘Yeah, why not? I’d be interested to hear the band. I used to be in one myself, you know.’
Maggie frowned. ‘Are you sure it’s safe, Max? It’ll be busy.’
‘I’ll be okay if I keep the glasses on. No one’s even looked at me so far, I’ve got the ultimate in forgettable faces.’
‘What do you say, Melie?’ her mum said. ‘Uncle Other Max and Nicki might be able to go along too. I could ask them for you.’
A short battle went on inside Amelia. Spending time with Jordan was absolutely the last thing she wanted to do, but she hadn’t seen Isaac for nearly a month. Plus Jordan knew all about music stuff. Maybe he could tell her some impressive things to say to Isaac.
‘Okay.’ She jabbed a finger at Jordan. ‘But I’m in charge, right?’
‘Right,’ Jordan said, smiling.
* * *
It wasn’t much of a beach day, Amelia thought, as another fat blob of rain plopped into her ham sandwich.
It had started out nice enough. The sun had shone. Rory had turned up to challenge Amelia and Georgia to a supersoaker fight, which was a pretty fun way to cool off, although Georgia whispered her theory that it was just a ploy to get their t-shirts wet so Rory could see their bras. But Amelia was willing to overlook it, with him being a boy and everything. They couldn’t help being tragic, poor things, it was in their genes.
But by lunchtime, everything had turned a bit grey. They were just tucking into their packed lunches when the first drops started to fall.
‘This is rubbish,’ Amelia said, shovelling the whole sandwich into her mouth before it dissolved.
‘My mascara’s running,’ Georgia said – mainly, Amelia reckoned, because she wanted them to know she was wearing mascara. ‘I’m ringing my mum.’
‘Yeah, me too.’ Rory’s red hair was plastered to his forehead. ‘Melie, you want a lift?’
Amelia thought gloomily about spending an afternoon stuck in the house with Jordan. But there was nothing else for it. She was drenched to the skin thanks to the rain and Rory’s supersoakers.
‘Okay,’ she said, shivering.
Half an hour later, Rory’s mum’s car pulled into The Cedars.
‘You can come hang out at mine if you want,’ Rory said.
His mum nodded. ‘You’re always welcome, Amelia.’
‘You could stay for dinner too. We’ve got turkey dinosaurs.’
Amelia was tempted. It’d certainly be more fun than hiding from Jordan at home. But she was wet through, and she really wanted a bath.
‘Not today, thank you,’ she said. ‘Another time though.’
‘Okay.’ Rory pointed to her front door. ‘Hey, who’s that outside your house?’
Amelia followed his gaze. There was a woman knocking at her door. She was wrapped in a big raincoat and wearing sunglasses, but the bleach-blonde hair and fishy pout were very familiar.
Sylvia Nash.
‘Dunno,’ Amelia lied, impressed with her own calm.
‘Could it be a journalist?’ Rory’s mum asked.
After the Ibbotson-Nightingale household’s recent brush with fame, a protective community instinct had kicked in that Amelia found rather flattering. She’d never realised how much people liked them.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said, hoping Rory’s mum wouldn’t offer to come to the door with her. ‘She looks like… someone my mum knows. It’s fine, I can tell her to come back later. See you, Rory. Thanks, Mrs McCallum.’
She got out of the car and headed for her house. Sylvia was hammering on the door, peering through the frosted glass.
Did she know about Jordan being there? Amelia wondered whether to phone and warn him, or ring her dad to come and make Sylvia go away.
But it was too late, Sylvia had seen her. Her too-plump lips spread into a grin.
‘Is this your house, little girl?’ she asked, blocking Amelia’s access.
‘Yes. What do you want?’
‘You, actually. You’re Amelia, aren’t you? Your mummy’s Maggie Nightingale.’
Sylvia was leaning down, adopting the patronising tone Amelia herself might use to a kid of three.
‘Why do you want to know?’ she demanded.
‘Because I think you might be able to help me. Can I come in?’
‘I’m not allowed to let strangers in.’
‘I’m not a stranger, am I? I bet you’ve seen me loads on TV.’
‘I’ve seen you,’ Amelia said. ‘You were rubbish.’
Sylvia’s grin flickered.
‘Now, I know you can help,’ she said, screwing it back into place. ‘You’ve heard of my son, of course, Jordan Nash. I bet you and your little friends love him, don’t you?’
‘No,’ Amelia said, then immediately bit her tongue. That was a dead giveaway. She had to act like any normal kid who loved Route 69, like Georgia, not like someone who came face to face with the unsexy vision of Jordan in her mum’s dressing gown every morning. ‘I mean, yeah. Love him.’
‘Then you’ll know how worried I’ve been,’ Sylvia said in a sad little infant voice, blinking back an invisible tear. ‘Since he disappeared.’
‘You’ve been in all the newspapers.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Don’t people normally go to the police when someone they love goes missing?’
Sylvia’s grin was starting to look sprayed on. ‘The newspapers have more reach.’
‘And they pay you money, right? To give them interviews? My dad’s a journalist, I know how that stuff works.’
‘That’s… not important.’
‘Well, I haven’t seen your son so I don’t know why you’re asking me. He was my mum’s friend, not mine.’
Sylvia tinkled a laugh. ‘Well no, you ridiculous child, I wouldn’t expect you to have actually seen him. But I just bet he’s contacted your mummy.’
‘If he’s contacted her and not you, then I guess he probably doesn’t want you to know where he’s gone.’
Sylvia looked triumphant. ‘Then she does know where he is! And I’m sure she mentioned it to you, didn’t she? You look like the sort of clever girl who always knows what’s going on.’
‘I didn’t say she knew, I said you didn’t. So that means Jordan doesn’t want you to find him.’ Amelia smiled sweetly. ‘Otherwise he’d have told you, wouldn’t he?’
Sylvia let her face settle into a scowl. ‘You really are the rudest child.’
‘I know all about you,’ Amelia said, standing her ground. ‘I know you’re horrid and you left him when he was a little boy. So you can just go away and leave us alone. We don’t know where he’s gone anyway.’
Sylvia leaned down and stared into her face. ‘I don’t believe you, Amelia. I know what lying looks like, I’m a seasoned pro.’
‘Well, it’s true,’ Amelia said, not letting her face flicker. ‘It says in Heat he’s in somewhere called Antigua. Why don’t you go there?’
‘I did go there,’ she muttered. ‘There was no sign of him.’
‘Why do you want to find him so much anyways?’
‘Because I’m his mother, of course,’ Sylvia said, summoning a smile that didn’t extend to her eyes. ‘He’s sick. I want to help him.’
‘You just want to be famous. And you’re not famous unless he’s famous, and now people aren’t talking about him as much so you want to find him and make him be in a band again. You don’t love him like… like a proper mum, like my mum.’
‘You’re a child. You don’t know what you’re saying.’
‘Yeah, fine, whatever,’ Amelia said, rolling her eyes. ‘But we don’t know anything about where he is so you might as well go home. Bye.’ She pushed past Sylvia and started unlocking the door.
‘You little—’ Sylvia grabbed her arm, her long nails digging hard into the flesh. ‘Don’t lie to me. You know exactly where he is.’
‘You’re hurting me,’ Amelia said in a low voice, her eyes darting from side to side. If the neighbours came, there could be trouble. She had to stop anyone finding out Jordan was right there in the house.
‘Where’s Jordan, you little bitch?’ Sylvia demanded, her face twisting. Amelia thought it looked like her true face, the one she kept hidden inside her behind the plastic surgery. It was ugly and full of hate. ‘I swear, if you don’t tell me what you know I’ll make life miserable for the whole pack of you, you and your weird fucking parents.’
‘Get off!’ Using all her strength, Amelia wrenched her arm from Sylvia’s grip and darted into the house. Sylvia tried to wedge her foot in the door and whimpered as Amelia slammed it away. Finally, Amelia got the thing shut and locked it with a trembling hand.
She ran into the kitchen, where Jordan was baking.
‘Someone at the door, kid?’ he asked. ‘There was a lot of knocking.’
Amelia stared at him, familiar and friendly as ever. And suddenly she didn’t care that Jordan was in her house, leaving his things around and flirting with her mum. All she cared about was that she was a kid and she was frightened and he was the only grown-up she trusted who was around to look after her. She burst into tears and threw herself at him for a hug.
Jordan, who’d never had to comfort a sobbing child before, patted her head in what he supposed was the proper way to go about it.
‘Hey,’ he said gently. ‘What’s up, Amelia? You’re soaking wet, sweetheart.’
‘Your… mum,’ she gasped between sobs. ‘She’s… here.’
‘Sylvia’s here! Where, outside?’
‘Yes,’ Amelia whispered.
‘Does she know I’m here?’
‘No. She came for me. She wanted to know if Mum had told me where you were.’
‘For you?’
‘Yeah. But I told her I didn’t know where you were and I slammed the door on her foot.’ Amelia sniffed. ‘Jordan, she was so mean. She swore at me and she called me names and… it was really scary.’
‘She can’t hurt you now. I won’t let her.’ Jordan looked down at her, impressed. ‘You did that? That took a lot of guts.’
‘Not really,’ Amelia muttered, secretly pleased.
Jordan went to peep through the blinds. ‘Looks like she’s gone now.’ He shook his head. ‘She’s got a bloody nerve, pardon my language. Exploiting me, that’s one thing, but when she starts going after people I care about to get to me…’
‘Jordan, she grabbed me. It really hurt.’ Amelia rolled up her sleeve to show him the angry red welts Sylvia’s nails had left in her skin. They were already starting to bruise.
‘Oh my God!’ Jordan took her arm to examine them. ‘She did that to you? That—’ He stopped himself. ‘I’m sorry, kid.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘It really isn’t.’ Jordan looked at her soaking clothes. ‘You’d better get dry things on before you catch cold. I need to ring someone.’
‘Who?’
‘Friend of mine who’s a journalist.’
‘My dad, you mean?’
‘That’s right.’ Jordan’s brow knit. ‘I’m going to make sure Sylvia finally gets what she deserves.’
* * *
‘What’s up? Is Melie okay?’ Ibby demanded when he burst into the house ten minutes after Jordan’s call.
‘A bit shaken. She’s just having a bath. Poor thing was shivering to the bone.’
‘What happened?’
Jordan’s brow lowered. ‘My fucking mother.’
