by Paige Toon
‘In a week,’ I said.
‘You promise?’ he asked.
‘I promise.’
Home… Really?
I let my hand drop from Tom’s chest and take a step backwards.
He stares down at me. ‘So that’s it?’ he asks flatly. ‘Are we done?’
I bite my lip until I draw blood, and then I nod.
He doesn’t say another word as he walks out of the door.
Chapter 33
To say it’s been a shit holiday is an understatement. I’ve been absolutely miserable for days. I’ve been dismal company for all of my friends. Stu is sick of seeing my moping face and I went to see Gramps yesterday and even he told me to cheer the hell up.
Now it’s Christmas day and I couldn’t feel worse.
It’s our first Christmas without Mum, and Stu and I sit at the table together, eating a turkey cooked by Johnny’s lovely parttime cook who popped by last night with instructions on how to heat it up.
We’re in Johnny’s large formal dining room. Expensive art hangs from the panelled, polished wooden walls and I couldn’t feel further from home and the silly, small, so-called dining room that we rarely ate meals in.
The roast in front of me looks delicious, but my taste buds are dead and I can barely eat a thing. Stu seems just as glum. We couldn’t even be bothered to pull our crackers earlier.
I should’ve let him go to see his parents. I should’ve stayed in LA. I imagine he’ll be glad to see the back of me.
‘This is ridiculous,’ he snaps finally, picking up his plate. ‘Let’s at least go and eat in front of the telly.’
I smile weakly and take my plate, following him into the living room. He switches on the telly and we sit there next to each other on the sofa with our dinners balancing on our knees.
‘Don’t be too down, Jess,’ he says after a while. ‘It’ll all come out in the wash.’
I told him Tom and I had broken up. And we have. There’s no going back. I haven’t heard from him and I haven’t tried contacting him, either. It’s over. I just want to go back to LA again and be surrounded by warmth and family and shiny new friends.
No. I’ve been there before, kicking out the old and replacing it with the new because it was less painful to think about what I’d lost. I have to be stronger this time. I have to think it through, not just run away.
‘Would you consider coming with me?’ I ask Stu, in a tiny, tentative voice.
He gives me a startled sideways look. ‘What, to LA?’
I nod hopefully, but his brow furrows with regret and he shakes his head as he speaks. ‘Oh, no, Jess, no, I couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’ I murmur.
‘This is my home,’ he says sadly, putting his plate down on the floor and swivelling to face me. ‘I wouldn’t feel right living over there, starting anew. And my parents are here. They’re getting old. They need me right now. You’ve got a brand-new family now. You don’t need me.’
‘I do,’ I state vehemently, hot tears pricking my eyes. ‘I’ll always need you.’
‘And I’ll always be here. You know that, right?’
I nod, my vision turning blurry.
‘If it doesn’t work out,’ he says kindly, ‘or if you just change your mind, you can always come back. You will always have a place with me.’
A few tears roll down my cheeks and I nod, brushing them away. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper.
‘Come here,’ he says, taking my plate away and putting his arms round me. We hug each other tightly.
‘You’ll be OK,’ he says after a while.
I take a deep breath and pull back to look at him. ‘Stu,’ I say.
‘Yeah?’
My bottom lip starts to wobble. ‘I want to go home.’
His face falls. ‘Oh, Jessie, no. Not today. Not on Christmas Day. We can deal with it later.’
‘Stu, all her stuff has been sitting there for almost a whole year. I want to be with her. I want to go home. There’s never going to be a good time. And, let’s face it, today’s been pretty shitty, anyway.’
He rubs at his eyes and sighs before glancing at me and nodding reluctantly.
Our home is dark and quiet. There are no Christmas lights on in the front window, no merry chatter coming from inside like our neighbours’ houses. Stu unlocks the door. Sam is waiting in the car, having already spent most of today in the guardhouse, clearly choosing British telly over our company. Can’t say I blame him. The familiar smell overwhelms me again. The living room is dark, but there’s no Christmas tree in the corner. For a moment, I can picture one, a small, spindly pine tree covered with tinsel, and my mum kneeling in front of it, her dark, wavy hair spilling down her back as she hooks another gaudy decoration onto the branches. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at me.
I choke back a sob as I run up the stairs and burst into the spare room.
Stu lets me go.
Her clothes are everywhere, still piled up exactly as I left them across all the surfaces. I go to the dressing table and open up a shoebox to discover it’s full of her jewellery. I lift out a chunky gold necklace and my brain shows me a memory of her holding it against her neck in Topshop, asking my opinion. I told her to get it, knowing I’d borrow it later. I still haven’t.
I open another shoebox and find her make-up. I lift out her perfume and press the nozzle to my nose, breathing it in. Tears spring up in my eyes and I can’t hold back. I start to sob.
‘Hey,’ Stu says, appearing at the door, his own eyes red from crying. ‘Come on.’
He opens up his arms to me and I crash into them. He holds me while I sob whole-body-wracking sobs, and then, unable to hold back, he begins to cry, too.
‘Let’s do this together,’ he says in a croaky voice, once we’ve cried ourselves out. ‘It’ll be easier.’
I sniff and nod.
He goes to the bed and lifts up a red dress.
‘Do you remember when she wore this to that awful school nativity the Year Eights put on? Mr Hillman couldn’t stop staring at her legs.’
I laugh. The headmaster had definitely looked flustered.
I reach for another garment, a mustard-yellow dress. ‘What about this one? She wore this to Marilyn’s fortieth birthday.’ Marilyn is Libby’s mum. ‘I told her she looked like a canary.’
Stu laughs. ‘She thought that was funny, you know. She never could wear yellow, but it was her favourite colour on you.’
A fresh wave of tears begins to cascade down my cheeks.
‘You should keep it,’ he says in a choked voice.
I nod quickly and take the dress, folding it up and putting it on the window sill.
We go on like this, laughing and crying, but eventually we get through the mountain of clothes that used to belong to Candy, a one-time rock chick and mother. Wife. Friend.
At the end of the day, the only things not in the black plastic bags for the charity shop are her wedding dress, some of her jewellery and a couple of dresses that I might want to wear someday. I’m also keeping her perfume.
I turn to give Stu a hug when it’s all done. ‘Thank you,’ I say into his shoulder.
He holds me tightly, but this time he doesn’t cry and, after a few shaky breaths, I realise I’m not going to, either.
‘I love you, Stu,’ I blurt out.
‘I love you, too, Jessie. Always will.’
‘Will you come to visit us in LA soon?’ I ask, pulling away.
‘Of course,’ he replies. ‘Hey, how about you arrange your next gig for half-term so I can come and watch it?’ He looks down at me expectantly.
My thoughts dart to Jack and All Hype, and I wish I knew how everything was going to pan out. But I don’t. All I can do is go with the flow and pray that there are no more natural disasters to worry about, I think with a rueful grin.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ I promise.
Chapter 34
‘You have to come!’ Agnes begs. ‘It’s LOTTIE’S NEW YEAR’S E
VE PARTY!’ she practically shouts down the phone.
‘I don’t feel like celebrating. I’m sorry.’
‘I know you’ve only just got back and you’re jet-lagged, but YOU CAN SLEEP TOMORROW!’
‘Agnes, keep it down! You’re hurting my ear!’
‘Jack’s going,’ she says significantly.
‘I know. He told me.’
‘Did he call?’ she asks with surprise.
‘No, he texted. I said I’d see him soon. When I’m ready,’ I add.
‘Oh, come on!’ she begs.
‘I’ll see you next week,’ I promise, ending the call and returning to the kitchen where my family is eating dinner.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to go?’ Meg asks carefully. ‘We’re finished here and the boys will be in bed soon.’
‘Awww!’ Barney moans. ‘Can’t we stay up?’
‘You’re already up later than normal,’ she chides. ‘Phee is falling asleep in his chair.’
I glance at my littlest brother in time to see his eyes close and his head jerk forward.
‘Oh, God, that is so cute,’ I can’t help squealing and he jerks his head backwards again and looks around with confusion.
‘Please, Daddy?’ Barney asks, hopping down from the table.
‘No, sorry, buddy. Bedtime.’
Barney moans again and grabs Johnny’s leg, sliding down it to sit on his foot. Johnny kicks his leg up and Bee giggles hysterically. This wakes Phoenix up good and proper and his eyes light up.
‘Da, da, da!’ he says, holding his chubby little arms out.
I laugh and lift him out of his chair – he’s grown so heavy! – and then Johnny takes turns with his sons on his feet while Meg rolls her eyes good-naturedly and moans about ‘never getting them to sleep now’.
She reaches for the bottle of champagne in the ice bucket and pours me another glass. I sit back down and we chink glasses.
‘Happy New Year,’ she says. ‘It’s good to have you home.’
I take a sip, feeling surreal that she just said ‘home’.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asks quietly, but still loudly enough for me to hear her over the mayhem in the background.
‘About where home is,’ I reply.
‘I hope that this starts to feel like it,’ she says gently. ‘We should get your room sorted out. I can help you if you like, when all your things arrive. But we should also go shopping for a few more items of furniture, inject some colour into the White Room.’
I smile at her. ‘That would be really nice.’
She reaches across and squeezes my hand. ‘And of course you’ve got your birthday coming up.’
Her eyes are sympathetic and kind. She knows it’s the anniversary of Mum’s death.
‘I doubt I’ll feel like celebrating,’ I say.
‘That’s exactly why you should celebrate,’ she replies steadily.
‘Celebrate what?’ Johnny asks, pausing in his playing to look over at us.
‘Jessie’s sixteenth birthday,’ Meg replies.
‘Aah, sixteen,’ he says gruffly. ‘Sweet sixteen.’ He grins at me. ‘I suppose you’ll be wanting a car?’
I sit up straight in my chair, my eyes lighting up. ‘Are you kidding?’
‘Here we go,’ Meg jokes. ‘Any excuse to go car shopping.’
‘What sort would you like?’ Johnny asks me.
I shake my head, totally distracted from all dark thoughts. ‘I have no idea.’
‘GTI? Audi A3? Both good starter cars,’ he muses.
Jack has an Audi…
Both the boys are clambering around Johnny’s feet, but when he tells them to cut it out they start to cry.
‘Right, that’s it, time for bed,’ Meg says resolutely, standing up.
‘I’ll go,’ Johnny says. ‘You stay there.’
‘Ooh, OK,’ Meg replies, raising her eyebrows at me and reaching for her glass of fizz.
I take another sip of my drink, the bubbles going straight to my head.
‘It’s not too late, you know,’ Meg says. ‘You could still go out.’
I shrug, then shake my head.
‘Come on,’ she says. ‘You should! Agnes is dying to see you, and now you’ll be going to school here you should get to know some of her other friends a bit better, too.’
‘I don’t want to drag Davey out again,’ I reply, shaking my head. ‘It’s New Year’s Eve – he’s with his family.’
‘Johnny will take you,’ she says immediately.
I hesitate, and that’s all it takes for her to push herself out from the table and go out of the door. She shouts up the stairs.
‘Johnny! I’ll take over. Can you give Jessie a lift to the Tremways’?’
He takes me on his motorcycle, just for fun. And it is fun now.
‘Can I get a bike?’ I ask him, as I climb off.
‘When hell freezes over,’ he replies, deadpan. ‘What time do you want collecting?’
‘Can’t I just grab a cab?’
He shakes his head determinedly. ‘I’ll come back for you. Will one o’clock be OK?’ he asks.
‘One a.m.?’ I check with surprise. ‘That late? Are you sure?’
He grins. ‘That’s early.’ He flips his visor back down and shouts at me to have fun, before roaring off back down the driveway.
I turn and look around. This time the red lanterns and pumpkins from Lottie’s Halloween party have been replaced with thousands of fairy lights dripping from the trees and icicle lights draped from the eaves of the log cabin. There are three fire pits set further away from the house, with people lounging in deckchairs around them. Music is blaring from the speakers and I nervously round the corner to see dozens of people already dancing, and others holding glasses of something red with clouds of steam rising from it. Mulled wine?
I texted Agnes to let her know I was coming, but she didn’t reply so I’m not sure she got it.
My head, earlier fuzzy with champagne, has been cleared by the ride here, and suddenly I’m not sure I should’ve come.
No one has noticed me yet.
I scan the crowd, looking for someone I know. I can’t see Agnes anywhere and my mind is swirling with doubt.
I catch the eye of a boy with blond hair and his face lights up. Peter, the actor from Lottie’s show. He waves at me, so I go over to say hi. He gets up from his seat and kisses my cheek.
‘Hey, happy New Year!’ he exclaims, seeming genuinely pleased to see me.
‘You too! Have you seen Agnes?’
‘She’s here somewhere,’ he replies, looking around. ‘Here with some guy. Australian, I think he said.’
‘Brett?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Is Jack here?’ I ask nervously, suddenly really desperately wanting him to be.
‘I think he’s DJ’ing,’ Peter replies. My heart flips and I touch his arm and back away, telling him I’ll chat to him later.
I walk round the corner, past the speakers, until the decks appear in view, and there he is: in full concentration mode with his headphones on, his hand spinning the records.
My heart flutters as I watch him mash up Cypress Hill’s ‘(Rock) Superstar’ and Oasis’s ‘Live Forever’.
He is so freaking talented, I think as my heart expands.
Unable to stop myself, I nod along to the music, but don’t make any move towards him. I don’t want to distract him.
I’m a bit out of sight here from the rest of the party, hidden by the huge speakers. My ears are going to ache tomorrow, though.
‘Oh my God, Jessie?’
I spin on my heel to see Agnes standing in front of me, her eyes wide with surprise. ‘Peter just told me you were here!’ she cries, throwing her arms round me.
‘I decided to come after all!’ I shout into her ear.
‘I’m so happy to see you!’ she exclaims, and the feeling is very mutual. ‘Does Jack know you’re here yet?’ she asks, looking past me.
‘No,’
I reply, glancing over my shoulder at her brother.
‘He does now,’ Agnes says mischievously, as Jack spots us talking. His eyes widen with shock.
I smile at him and he goes to take his headphones off, but I shake my head and point at the decks, not wanting him to get distracted. He nods and hesitantly adjusts his headphones, but he doesn’t take his eyes from mine. Nor does he smile at me.
‘Come get a drink,’ Agnes urges, grabbing my hand and leading me towards the bar.
Lottie is there, flirting with Brandon, and, as usual, there’s no sign of Maisie, his girlfriend. Some things never change.
Brandon sees me and gives me a huge hug. ‘Jessie, Jessie!’ he chants, clearly having had a few. I hug him back happily.
‘It’s our lead singer!’ Miles shouts, spying us and coming over. I hug him, too, followed by Lottie.
‘I hear your gig was amazing!’ she exclaims. ‘I’ll have to come to your next one.’
‘I’m lining it up at the moment,’ Brandon says, as Agnes places a warm glass in my hand.
‘Cheers! I’m so glad you’re back!’ she says.
I chink her glass and take a sip, and then two hands are touching my hips from behind and I spin round and come face to face with Jack Mitchell himself, his bluey-grey eyes staring uncertainly into mine.
‘Hey,’ he says, bending down to peck me on my cheek, not my lips, I notice. Nerves swirl round my stomach.
Then I remember that Brandon and Miles are here, and they don’t know what’s happened between us. Maybe he’s being careful. Or maybe it’s something else.
‘I didn’t know you were coming,’ he says in my ear, standing closer to me than he perhaps should in front of our bandmates.
‘Last-minute decision,’ I reply, stepping back slightly.
I jump as his hand finds mine, and then he’s pulling me with purpose across the crowded dance floor. He leads me round the back of the cabin where it’s quieter and out of sight of everyone.
‘Is everything OK?’ he demands to know, and he’s still not smiling at me.
‘Everything’s fine,’ I reply, nodding. ‘Are you OK?’ I ask. ‘You haven’t got Susan or Eve or anyone here, have you?’ Is that why he’s acting strangely? Is he here with a girl? The thought makes me feel queasy.
