Paradise End

by Elizabeth Laird

  ‘Actually, Carly, I don’t think I’ll be going to school in England at all. Daddy wants me to go and live with him in Argentina.’

  I don’t remember the rest of that call, only that Tia asked me to go up to Paradise End straight away. I got changed and tried to smooth my hair down and told Mum where I was going, and then I walked up the road. And all the time, churning around inside me, along with sadness, was a little dash of hope, that I’d got everything wrong, and that once I was there she’d tell me they’d decided to live in England and stay on at Paradise End after all.

  I’d forgotten about the reporters, but there they were, just as Dad had said, crowding round the gates. I stood back, hesitating, not knowing how to get inside.

  One of them saw me and said, ‘Hello. You a friend of Anastasia’s? How’s she coping with all this? You weren’t at the party last night, were you? Are they staying here? Was that Rudi Krukovsky who came in a while ago?’

  ‘I don’t know anything,’ I said, thinking on my feet for once. ‘I’ve got a message for my dad, that’s all. He’s one of the policemen on duty inside.’

  ‘Oh.’ The reporter looked disappointed, and another one, who’d lifted his camera, let it fall again.

  Then I saw Mr Hollins behind the bars of the gate, signalling surreptitiously to me. He pressed the button and the gates swung open.

  ‘Come to see your dad, did you say?’ he said loudly, playing along with me. ‘What’s his name then?’

  ‘Sergeant McQuarrie.’

  ‘OK. You can come in. He’s probably round the side of the house, on the terrace.’

  I slipped in between the gates and they shut behind me. Mr Hollins turned his back on the reporters and smiled at me, and I ran up the drive and turned right in front of the house to go round on to the terrace.

  Then, when I was about to lose my right to be at Paradise End, it caught at my heart again. The mess of the party was still around, the blackened torches, the half-dismantled marquee, the tables on the terrace where the buffet had been set out. But the house itself, my house, rose up above all that, serene and beautiful. I remembered my old childish fantasies, how I’d dreamed that I’d become a famous dancer one day, and buy Paradise End, and make it all my own. How childish and silly those imaginings seemed now.

  I had to blink back tears and tell myself furiously not to be a fool before I could go on.

  I’d only just reached the terrace when Tia appeared at the far end. She came to meet me. I felt oddly shy.

  ‘I forgot to warn you about the reporters.’ She sounded reassuringly normal. ‘Did they hassle you?’

  ‘Not much. Mr Hollins let me in.’ I stole a look at her. She was steadier than I’d expected, but her eyes were red. ‘How’s your dad? I can’t believe he got here so fast.’

  ‘I know. He was in Geneva on business. Lucky he was so close. He got the first flight this morning.’

  Neither of us could think of anything else to say. We sat down on the steps where we’d been last night with Rory and James. It seemed like months, even years, before. There was another long silence.

  ‘Carly,’ Tia said at last.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re going to think I’m awful.’

  ‘I won’t. Try me.’

  ‘I’m not entirely, well, not a hundred per cent sad. About Mimi, I mean. Not as sad as I ought to be anyway.’

  ‘I don’t blame you. She said herself she wasn’t much good at being a mum.’

  ‘I don’t mean that I’m not sad for myself. It’s not about me. It’s for her sake. I’ve been talking to Daddy. He says she was always really unhappy, even when they were married, even when she was a child, I think. Daddy loved her, he said, but it wasn’t enough. She ran off with someone, and then someone else, and they got stupider and stupider, like Otto. And she kept drinking too much. He says she couldn’t help it. He says I shouldn’t think too badly of her. She was just – I don’t know – unhappy, I suppose.’

  ‘Don’t you think she’d have started being happy maybe, if she’d found the right person?’

  ‘No.’ Tia had been talking calmly, but now her lips began to tremble. ‘She had me, but it wasn’t enough. You know what she was like half the time. She didn’t even notice that I was there.’

  ‘But she loved you,’ I said, trying not to sound uncertain. ‘I’m sure she did.’

  ‘Really? Did she really, Carly?’

  I didn’t know what to say. I was so sorry for Tia that the feeling actually hurt.

  ‘My father said I ought to try to remember the good things,’ Tia went on, ‘but I couldn’t remember anything much. Then he was looking in her desk, for her will or something, and he found – come on, I’ll show you.’

  We got up and I followed her through the long glass doors into the drawing room. It had been cleaned up since last night. The only reminder of the party was a stale smell of cigarettes and wine, and the bare mantelpiece.

  Tia picked up an album lying on a coffee table.

  ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Have a look.’

  I sat down on the nearby sofa and opened it. There were photos stuck on every page. Under them were captions, written in big, loopy handwriting, almost like a child’s. They said things like: ‘Tia and Mimi on the beach’, ‘In the bath’, ‘Tia’s third birthday’, ‘Look, Mimi, I can dance!’

  ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe she did care about me a bit,’ Tia said. ‘Once, anyway, or she wouldn’t have kept these photos and written all that stuff, would she? Do you see, Carly? She wouldn’t, would she?’

  Her sea-green eyes were fixed hopefully on me.

  ‘No, of course not. Of course she wouldn’t,’ I managed to say, but now selfish thoughts were pushing through to the forefront of my mind.

  What about us, Tia? I wanted to say. Do you want to stay friends with me now?

  She took the album out of my hands and shut it again.

  ‘I’ve got to think about the future, about my new school in Argentina. It’s a really nice one, my father says.’

  Here it comes, I thought. This is it.

  ‘That’s great!’ I could hear how insincere my voice sounded. ‘You’ll be back here for the holidays though, won’t you? At Paradise End?’

  My heart was thumping as I waited for her answer.

  ‘I don’t know.’ She didn’t look at me. ‘We haven’t decided yet what to with this place.’ Her voice had lost its warmth and sounded almost detached. ‘Daddy doesn’t know if we can keep it on.’

  ‘You’re not going to sell it? You can’t!’ I couldn’t stop my voice rising. ‘Your family’s always lived here. It would be – I don’t know – wrong!’

  She looked at me, frowning. I couldn’t read the expression in her eyes.

  ‘I used to hate it here when it was just Mimi and me and Frost. I was always lonely and miserable. I only started liking it when I met you. Then last night, when we were together at the party, before – it was so wonderful. I could see how it could be. How it was meant to be. Only it never was, because of everyone being so unhappy. Maybe one day, when I’m older, I could make it like that again. How do I know?’

  I couldn’t look at her.

  ‘When are you going?’

  ‘That’s just it, Carly. Daddy wants to leave as soon as possible because of the reporters and everything. We’re going to London for a few days and then straight back to Argentina.’

  ‘Yes, but when?’

  She looked down.

  ‘Tonight. We’re going to London tonight. Graziella’s packing my things up now.’

  I couldn’t say a word. I was taken by surprise by the wave of anger, red and blinding, boiling up inside me.

  ‘I’ll go then,’ I said, jumping to my feet. ‘Goodbye.’

  Tia looked up at me, startled.

  ‘What do you mean? You haven’t even met my father.’

  ‘So what? He won’t care.’

  ‘He will! He does! I’ve told him all about you, about you being
my best friend, and . . .’

  She was looking upset now.

  ‘Best friends?’ I knew I sounded cruel, but I couldn’t help it. ‘Best friends? When I’m here and you’re in South America? How, Tia? How?’

  She looked as if I’d slapped her, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  ‘You’ll be fine, won’t you? It’ll be great for you. New York, Buenos Aires, a nice new family. And I’ll be stuck here, in this poxy village, with my boring, boring parents and my septic little sister forever and ever, amen.’

  I couldn’t go on, because I was crying.

  Tia had taken a step backwards.

  ‘And it’s no good,’ I managed to say, ‘going on about us keeping in touch and all that because you’ll never be back here. You’ll never see me again. You’ll make heaps of new friends, because you’re so sweet and nice, and they’ll all love you to bits. You’ll forget about me the minute you’re off through those gates. But I won’t forget, not ever. I’ll miss you for the rest of my life.’

  And then I ran away. I just turned and bolted, dashing through the gates and the crowd of reporters so fast they didn’t have a chance to even see who I was.

  People get dumped all the time, I know they do. Boyfriends and girlfriends and best friends and mums and dads – everyone dumps everyone. It doesn’t make it any easier. It’s the worst pain there is, I think.

  I couldn’t believe that Tia was going off like that, to the other side of the world, without seeming to care about me at all. And I couldn’t bear to think that, from now on, the gates of Paradise End would be closed to me.

  You used me, I kept saying in my head.

  No one seemed to understand.

  ‘Cheer up, love,’ Mum kept saying. ‘You’ll have other best friends. There are plenty more fish in the sea.’

  There was no one at school I could talk to. It was horrible because the newspapers were full of Dixie’s death. The headlines said things like: ‘Dixie in death crash’, ‘Suicide or accident?’, ‘Last fling for Dixie’, ‘Poor little rich girl loses her mum’. Everyone knew I’d been Tia’s friend and they kept on and on at me, asking stupid questions, like, ‘Did Tia’s mum really rip all her clothes off and dance on the tables, Carly?’ ‘Is it true what it said in the Sun, that everyone was off their faces on cocaine?’ ‘What’s it like, being at a real orgy?’ ‘Wow, you’re so lucky, being friends with Tia. Why didn’t you let us meet her too?’

  I tried not to say anything, but I couldn’t help losing my rag a few times. OK, so I know my temper’s awful, and I’ve got a bad reputation for it, but it’s got its good sides too. Everyone was scared I’d blow my top, and they shut up after a bit. As a matter of fact, I felt better when I was angry. It was worse being miserable, and that’s how I felt most of the time.

  On Tuesday, when I got home from school, a parcel was waiting for me.

  ‘Graziella brought it this morning. She’s going today,’ Mum said.

  ‘Going? Where?’

  ‘Back to Italy. Mr Braithwaite’s given her a lump sum, and she’s going to set up a dressmaking business. She looked really happy. Go on, aren’t you going to open your parcel?’

  I took it up to my room. Lauren was there, so I had to go into the bathroom (the only place in our house where there’s any privacy at all). I locked the door, sat on the bath and pulled off the wrapping paper.

  It was Tia’s best doll. She lay on my knees in her little black dress, with the rope of tiny pearls round her neck, staring up at me out of her sightless eyes.

  There was a note tucked inside her collar in Tia’s small, neat handwriting.

  Dear Carly,

  This is my best thing, so I want you to have her. She sort of belongs to you anyway, because she made you think about asking me to do your dress, which was the nicest thing anyone ever did to me.

  You were wrong about me forgetting you. It’s not going to be like that. You’ll forget about me first, I know you will.

  The funeral’s on Friday, in London. Frost’s trying to keep it quiet, so the press don’t find out. I’m absolutely dreading it. I wish you were here. We’re going to Buenos Aires on Sunday. I’ll call you before then. If I don’t get you, try me on my mobile.

  All my love,

  Tia

  You’d think, wouldn’t you, that I’d be pleased getting a lovely present and a letter like that, but I wasn’t. It just made me feel resentful. It flashed into my head that the doll was like a payment, paying me off, as if I’d been a servant or something, and once I’d got hold of that idea I couldn’t get rid of it. And then the letter made everything feel more final. I’d half hoped, I suppose, that Tia’s dad would change his mind, that somehow they’d all end up staying on at Paradise End and it would go back to being like it was before. Now I knew for certain that it was all over, and that Tia was really going away.

  ‘What did she give you to me for? I don’t want you,’ I hissed at the doll, giving it a shake.

  The door handle rattled, making me jump.

  ‘Carly?’ said Mum. ‘What are you doing in there? Come on out. You’ve got to get off to the dress rehearsal. I’ve ironed your dress. It’s all ready.’

  For the first time since Tia had gone, I was jerked out of myself. I’d actually forgotten about the dress rehearsal and the display and my dress. I’d even forgotten there was such a thing as tap-dancing. I couldn’t think how I’d ever been keen on it. I couldn’t imagine how I’d ever be able to do it again.

  I don’t know how I got myself down to the bus stop and into Torminster. On autopilot, I suppose.

  The dress rehearsal was a disaster. My feet felt like a couple of wooden blocks stuck on the ends of my legs, and I couldn’t dance a step. I tried not to catch Mrs Litvinov’s eye, but when I did I could see her looking anxiously at me. She was worried that I’d mess up the display and let her down. Part of me hated seeing the disappointment in her face, but part of me really wasn’t bothered.

  When I got home, Mum said, ‘Tia phoned a couple of times. She wanted to speak to you.’

  ‘Did she?’ I said, sounding really sarcastic, although my heart had jumped up into my throat.

  Mum looked at me closely.

  ‘You two haven’t quarrelled have you?’

  ‘No, and it’s none of your business,’ I said rudely, and stamped up the stairs and slammed the door of my room so loudly it would have jerked anyone else but that little slug Lauren wide awake at once.

  21

  Life’s so weird. It’s the night of the display and, would you believe it, I don’t even care? I have to be at the town hall early, so I take the bus into Torminster soon after five.

  ‘Good luck, love,’ Mum says, trying to kiss me as I go out through the door. ‘We’ll be along later. Reserve us some seats at the front.’

  Lauren’s coming, of course, and even Sam has decided to as well. Normally, I’d be over the moon, wild with excitement, tapping my feet as if they were drumsticks and the whole world was my drum.

  In the dressing room the others are strung up like guitar strings.

  ‘I know I’m going to be hopeless,’ they say. ‘Have you looked in the hall? They’re arriving already. Feel my heart. It’s pounding. Is my hair OK? Can you do my zip up at the back? I’m going to die, I know I am.’

  I don’t feel nervy like them. I feel a lump in my chest, that’s all. It’s not stage fright. It’s not fear. The misery of the past few days, the rejection and the anger and the loneliness, are all coming together into a single word. Betrayal.

  The word takes hold of my mind. It gets warmer. Little flames start licking round it. That’s what’s happened. I’ve been betrayed!

  It’s anger that I’m feeling now, a new kind of anger, sharp and clear. It’s spreading through me, hot and violent, making me tingle and sweat. It’s running like fire through my body, down my arms and legs, into my hands and feet.

  My feet! They’ve started to twitch. They’re beginning to tap. They want to move, fast an
d furious, do what they like, go where they want. But I’ve got to control them. I must get the rhythm, channel the anger, get the music into my head.

  Chick a boom, chick a boom, chick a boom di boom boom.

  I’ve been waiting for hours. For some crazy reason, Mrs Litvinov’s put me on at the very end, after everyone else. I feel I’ve been here forever when at last she sticks her head round the dressing-room door.

  ‘Carly! You’re on. Good luck!’

  This is me, silk dress smooth, hair slicked down, tap shoes on my feet. I’m on the stage, the bare boards under me. People are out there, staring at me, but the lights are in my eyes and I can’t see them. I can only hear their restless shufflings and coughings, and then nothing but the music as I start to move.

  Move? I’m flying! I’m pounding those boards! I’m hopping and stepping and tapping, as fiery as the Tap Dogs, as smooth as Fred Astaire, my anger my fuel, my skill making it work for me.

  Clickety clack, clickety clack, chick a boom boom da!

  In my head, I hear Mrs Litvinov shout, ‘Smile, Carly! Look happy!’ And I do smile. I don’t feel happy, not yet, but I feel powerful again, myself, with edges, stronger, in control.

  The last drum beat crashes out. I come to a perfect stop. The audience erupts with claps and cheers. I peer out through the lights and see, of all people, Lauren in the front row, her face shining, clapping like a maniac, and Mum and Dad and Sam beside her.

  I bow and turn to go. They’re still clapping. I bow again. And then, out of the corner of my eye, on the far side of the hall, I see the glint of light on a head of smooth honey-coloured hair.

  It’s Tia! She’s here! She’s sitting at the end of the row, right on the edge of her seat, and she’s clapping so furiously her hands are going like pistons.

  I don’t know how I get myself off the stage, but I do. Mrs Litvinov is waiting for me in the wings. She actually hugs me.

  ‘I knew it,’ she says. ‘You brought tears to my eyes, Carly. There are a lot of things you can’t do yet, but you’ll get to the top if you want to. The sky’s the limit for you.’