Furious Thing

by Jenny Downham

  ‘Lex,’ he said slowly, ‘this is a terrible plan.’

  ‘Think about it at least?’

  We were quiet then and I stared at the jagged rooftops and the tree cutting the sky and I ran my fingers along the cool metal of the stairs.

  ‘I guess Cerys might not like it,’ I said.

  I don’t know why I brought her up. Maybe because she’d asked me to talk about her and I had to have something to report. Or maybe I was checking if he still had feelings for her.

  ‘Cerys is going to Bristol to read Law and will forget all about me.’

  ‘If she gets in.’

  ‘She will.’

  ‘And you’re going back to Manchester to forget all about me.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  But it felt like he had flint in his soul. ‘Did you talk to your dad about the doctor? Can you stop that happening at least? I mean, that is why you came back for the weekend, isn’t it?’

  ‘I told him to stop coming down so hard on you.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘That he would.’

  ‘Oh, all sorted then, thanks.’

  ‘I did my best. I’m not denying he’s a control freak.’

  ‘What if he tells the doctor I’m insane? What if they lock me in a madhouse?’

  ‘This isn’t Victorian England, Lex.’

  ‘I had to sign a contract. And every night before I go to bed, he wants my phone in the safe. He says it’s to make sure I get enough sleep.’

  ‘Maybe it is.’

  ‘Every morning when I wake up he wants to know my plans – down to the last detail.’

  ‘He wants you to work, to get some exams under your belt.’

  ‘Why are you on his side?’ I grabbed his wine and downed it in two great gulps. ‘I went round Meryam’s today and she didn’t want to help either.’

  ‘You shouldn’t’ve done that.’

  ‘Why not? Is it a secret your dad hates me? When Iris fell out of the tree, he called me a monster, did you know that? He thinks I killed my granddad.’

  ‘You’re angry at him, but it’s not just you that gets the shit. Your mum gets a lot of it.’

  ‘Oh, so that makes it all right?’

  He sighed, and I knew I was irritating him. I bet Cerys never had a go at him, never raised her voice, never disagreed or asked for difficult things.

  ‘Is it because of my temper that you don’t want to let me live with you?’

  He smiled. ‘No, Lex.’

  ‘Is it because you think I’m an ogre?’

  ‘Not that either.’

  There was a plant on the steps, some feathery thing in a pot, and I reached out and plucked off a tawny leaf. ‘Close your eyes,’ I said. I took his hand and pulled his arm out straight towards me and stroked the leaf at his wrist. ‘No peeking.’

  It was a game we’d played a hundred times as kids – with feathers, leaves, fingers, tongues. You had to say ‘stop’ when the tickling reached the exact crease of your elbow.

  In the past, Kass would grab me when I got there and spin me over and sit on me. He’d hold both my wrists above my head and turn his free hand into a tickling spider until I begged for mercy.

  But tonight, he let me inch achingly slowly up the length of his arm to his shoulder. I thought maybe he’d fallen asleep, but when I got to his throat he opened his eyes.

  ‘How many times have we played this game?’ he said.

  I know, I thought. I know, I know.

  He said, ‘I’m not sure we should be playing it right now.’

  It’s not a game any more, I thought.

  ‘Mostly,’ he said, ‘because I’ve drunk three quarters of a bottle of wine. But also because one thing leads to another and my dad’s upstairs.’

  ‘One thing leads to another?’ I said, smiling.

  I didn’t move. We were so very close. I could hear the dull thud of our hearts.

  ‘It’s not happening again, Lex,’ he said.

  ‘Why not?’

  I moved closer. My eyes locked with his. I could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with mine. If we kissed again, he’d let me live in Manchester.

  ‘Give me this,’ he said, and he took the leaf from my fingers and let it drop over the edge of the stairs. I watched it flutter away like something burning. ‘Now give me this.’ He took my hand and threaded his fingers with mine. ‘You’re like a sister to me.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  What are big brothers for? To go to school with. To look out for you in the corridor. To tease you when you fancy their friends. To share the complicated fact of your parents with. A girl in my year went hiking with her big brother. They cook together. They have mutual friends. When she turns eighteen he’s promised to take her on a pub crawl.

  Big brothers are for eating ice cream with. They help you with homework. If you say you’re scared, they promise to save you. They do not press the length of their leg against the heat of your thigh and say, ‘I’m not denying I enjoyed that kiss, Lex, because I did.’

  I yanked my hand from his and stood up. ‘What are you doing?’ I raged. ‘Why do you keep doing this to me?’

  ‘Calm down,’ Kass said. ‘I’m not doing anything.’

  ‘You are. You’re doing this.’ I waved at myself, at him, the garden, the flats. ‘All of this is what you’re doing.’

  ‘Lex,’ he said. ‘Shall we go in?’

  ‘Why? You think I’m being weird?’

  He smiled. ‘Maybe just a bit.’

  ‘Of course I’m fucking weird. I’ve got a condition, haven’t I?’

  ‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t say that. Come on, Lex, what’s wrong?’ He tugged at the lace on my trainer. ‘What do you want? Tell me. You want to climb our tree?’

  Our tree? He hadn’t been up it for years.

  ‘Oh, just go back to Manchester, Kass. Get on with your life and leave me to mine. That’s what I want.’

  For the rest of the evening I ignored him and talked only to Iris. I read with her, drew with her, held her on my lap and taught her how to thread melon pips onto a string.

  Mum cleaned the fridge out. She wore yellow Marigold gloves and hummed show tunes like a fifties housewife. Kass and John sat together on the sofa and watched football streams on John’s laptop and clinked their glasses after each refill and talked about Kass’s course.

  John loved it that his son studied architecture. He sunbathed under it, like Kass would turn into a copy of him in some new world. He glugged the wine and asked Kass questions about essays and coursework and his plans for the summer. What about an internship in Europe? he asked. Would Kass like him to pull a few strings?

  I zoned out from John’s words, away from his smug face and looked at Kass instead. I looked at his bare arms and the hairs turning gold in the light from the lamp. I watched Kass’s lips move and thought, I kissed those lips.

  ‘I love you,’ I’d said. ‘I always have.’

  ‘I love you too,’ he’d whispered.

  I thought of standing up and spilling it out loud. I wanted to blast something apart. John was suggesting that when Kass went into second year, he move out of student accommodation and rent a house so that he could stay in Manchester during the holidays and concentrate on his academic work.

  Kass was being prised away in front of me. First an internship, now never coming home at all. I wanted to pick up John’s wine glass and sling it across the room. What had Sophie said? You’re allowed to be angry. Except, I’d be sent straight to a doctor if I was.

  I concentrated on John’s weak things instead.

  I saw that he’d cut himself shaving. Plus, he was puffy under his eyes and had a small stain on his shirt. Three weak things. I breathed easier. But when Mum came in and pointed out that John’s phone kept buzzing and asked why he wasn’t picking up, he told her to stay out of his business and that made him strong again.

  At about half ten, Kass said he had to go. Iris ran to get her shoes, so she could
walk downstairs with him. John said it was too late and she should stay inside.

  ‘I’ll stop her,’ I said.

  ‘This is not an excuse for a send-off party,’ John said.

  I knew that was a threat, but I ignored him. I wanted to say goodbye to Kass alone. Because even though I was furious with him, I wanted to give him one last chance to pull me close and tell me yes, I could come to Manchester. We’d build a barricade, make plans, be together for ever …

  But Iris escaped and raced out of the flat with no shoes. I ran down the stairs after her and grabbed her sweater. ‘Go back up,’ I hissed.

  ‘No way! I’m coming to the bus stop.’

  ‘Leave her,’ Kass said, coming down behind us. ‘It’s fine.’

  So, now we’d have to talk in code, which was stupid. Had he let her come on purpose?

  ‘I won’t see you for ages,’ I said as we walked across the car park to the gate.

  ‘It’ll fly by.’ He wouldn’t look at me. ‘And you’ll be distracted by exams.’

  ‘So will you,’ Iris said. Kass had her on his back so she didn’t hurt her feet. Which meant I’d have to carry her home, which meant I’d have to go home and couldn’t wander off into the dark and disappear.

  ‘Will you see Cerys before you go?’ I said.

  ‘Your girlfriend,’ Iris said. She drawled out the word, giving the ‘r’ a roll, making it rude somehow.

  Kass shook his head. ‘We said goodbye already.’

  We were at the bus stop and a bus must’ve just come because there was no one waiting. I was glad. I wondered if he meant he’d split up with Cerys. And if he had – was it because of me? I didn’t know how to ask that in code.

  ‘Iris,’ I said. ‘The bus could be ages. You should go in.’

  ‘I’m not even listening,’ she said.

  I envied her his arms around her legs, her body pressing close to his back, her arms looped loose about his neck, her breath hot in his ear.

  ‘Phone me up,’ she told Kass. ‘Twice a week.’

  ‘You don’t have a phone, Iris.’

  ‘Skype me then.’ She kissed him passionately on his cheek. ‘I miss you.’

  ‘I haven’t gone yet.’

  ‘I miss you anyway.’

  Me too, I thought. I know exactly how you feel.

  The world was so sad and close. Maybe we should be a band of three? Tell Iris the truth? We could get on the bus and just leave together. This was our chance.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘How about we all go to Manchester?’

  ‘Yes!’ Iris whooped. ‘Let’s run away.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Kass said. He gave me a look – one of the deep ones that usually made my heart scud, but now just made me want to weep. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said. He kissed me on top of my hair. ‘It’s going to be OK.’

  ‘Is it?’ I said. ‘Are you sure?’

  He shook his head, irritated with me again. He gazed down the road, wanting the bus to come. He’d always hated goodbyes, said they made him feel awkward, as if there was something profound he should be saying.

  ‘It’ll come soon,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘It’ll never come,’ Iris said. ‘I phoned the bus people and they cancelled it.’

  Kass laughed. ‘You and your phone calls.’

  And his laughter brought the bus. I felt a pang of anxiety. He would get on it, he’d hand Iris over, he’d leave. In Manchester, there were girls – hundreds of older and cleverer and more glamorous girls. There was freedom. There was no John.

  Kass could spin himself a whole new story.

  It felt like boxes slamming shut as he made Iris hop down, ruffled her hair, bent over to me and gave me a rough hug. Our lips went nowhere near one another. We looked like brother and sister. But he wasn’t my brother. Windows crashed shut inside me as he walked to the bus, got up the step and scanned his card on the reader. He went upstairs. I knew he would. He waved down at us. He looked more cheerful than he had all evening. I was so cold standing there with Iris hopping barefoot beside me.

  ‘Watch out for glass,’ I told her. My voice came out gravelly and old.

  ‘Watch out yourself,’ she said.

  The bus took off. Kass, my Kass, in it, surrounded by strangers who had no idea how precious he was.

  I had weeks to get through without him. Exams. John. Contracts and threats of doctors. Day after endless day. How would I ever bear it?

  We heard the shouting as we walked back up the stairs. ‘Shush,’ Iris said.

  I propped myself against the wall of the stairwell. I wanted it to suck me in.

  ‘Get them to stop,’ Iris said. ‘Do your furious thing.’

  ‘My what?’

  She shrugged.

  I sat down on the carpeted stairs and made her look at me. ‘What fucking furious thing?’

  ‘Don’t swear.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  She stuck her bottom lip out and pretended to be younger, so I’d forgive whatever she was about to say. ‘Do your monster.’

  18

  John’s friend, Derek Leaman, had an office at the top of a building in Harley Street, where all the expensive doctors had their practices. I sat on one side of the desk, sandwiched between Mum and John, and Derek sat on the other side with a blank sheet of paper in front of him and a sympathetic smile on his face.

  He said, ‘Could you tell me a little more about what happened on Saturday night, Alexandra?’

  Behind him, through the window, was a stretch of blue sky and a single London plane tree. It wasn’t fully in leaf yet and its branches looked like scribbled ink. If I was down there on the street with my granddad, he’d point out the camouflage-patterned bark that breaks away in large flakes, so the tree can cleanse itself of pollutants. He’d tell me that when the leaves matured, they’d look like five-pointed stars.

  But I wasn’t outside in the fresh air; I was in an office with central heating and a deep-pile carpet. It was Wednesday morning. Iris was at school. Kass was at university. Granddad was in his grave.

  ‘Alexandra?’ the doctor said.

  ‘You want me to go over the detail?’ John said. ‘Would that be useful?’

  Mum stroked my arm. ‘If you agreed to come, Lex, maybe you should agree to talk?’

  I agreed to come because John said he’d go through the school if I didn’t. He said he’d phone the head and get her to ask all my subject teachers to fill in a report. He said the more input, the more likely I’d be to receive a decisive diagnosis.

  ‘I’m happy to kick things off,’ John said. ‘Maybe Alexandra can interject if she wants to?’

  I was sitting on a grey chair. The carpet was beige. Mum was to my left and John to my right. He’d given us the silent treatment the last few days, but now he couldn’t stop talking. Ever since we’d walked into the office and John and Derek shook hands and asked how each other’s kids were, words had been gushing everywhere. John had asked if there was a definitive test for ADHD (there wasn’t) and if it was genetic (it could be). Mum had asked if it might be something else (it might), but John had interrupted to ask if today would be the only meeting (probably not) and was there a complete list of symptoms he could look at? The doctor made a lame joke about reading out a list and every person in the world putting their hand up and saying they had a disorder.

  ‘Everyone experiences these symptoms at one time or another,’ he said. ‘What we’re looking for is consistent demonstration in multiple settings.’

  No brain imaging, blood test or computer analysis was going to give John an immediate verdict. Instead, we had to sit through a diagnostic interview to see how I functioned in everyday life. Starting with Saturday night.

  Do your monster.

  ‘My son, Kass, came round for supper,’ John said, ‘and after he left, Alexandra got distressed.’

  Mum was still stroking my arm. ‘She’s missed him since he’s been at university. They’re very close.’

&nbs
p; ‘Anyway,’ John said, ‘it was about half ten when she and Iris went down to wave him off at the bus stop. They’d been gone maybe twenty minutes when Alexandra came storming upstairs and proceeded to rant and rave at me and her mother. She said it was our fault Kass had gone, that we were trying to control everyone and why had we suggested he didn’t come home again for so long? When we asked her to stop shouting, it made her worse. I told her to go to her room if she couldn’t behave and she ramped things up another notch. She threatened to throw the television out the window, but when it proved too heavy for her to lift, she opened the sash and hurled my laptop out instead.’

  ‘It was frightening,’ Mum said. ‘Really scary. I’ve never seen her so angry before.’

  ‘It landed in the car park,’ John said. ‘Smashed to pieces, with all my work on it. I know she was distressed, but someone could have been killed. The neighbours phoned the police, who came marching up the stairs thinking it was a domestic disturbance.’

  Outside the office window, a magpie landed in the tree. From this far away, all you could see were oily wings and a creamy chest, but up close, magpies had purplish-blue wing feathers and there was a green gloss to their tail.

  ‘The police would’ve been within their rights to press charges,’ John said. ‘They told her she’d potentially endangered anyone who might have been walking below and that she’d behaved in a culpable and reckless manner. I suppose they were trying to scare her, but she didn’t bat an eyelid.’ He turned to look at me. ‘Would you say this is an accurate presentation of events, Alexandra?’

  It was bollocks that I tried to throw the TV out the window. Our TV was attached to a bracket on the wall with three bolts and any idiot would know you needed a screwdriver and another person to come anywhere close to chucking it anywhere. It was true I’d threatened to throw it out, that I’d rattled it about on its bracket, then opened the sash window and rattled that. It was also true that I grabbed John’s laptop from the table where he’d been watching football streams with Kass and yes, I lobbed it in a beautiful arc down to the car park. But I’m sure I looked first. I’m not a maniac.

  When the cops asked me why I’d done it, I gave a secret sideways glance at John and said, ‘I was pissed off.’