“I know, I know. It’s just that I’ve got this funny feeling in my tummy…”
“You’ll be fine,” she said firmly. “It’s only one day and I’ve left food to heat up. I’ll be back by teatime tomorrow.”
She didn’t get it. She didn’t get how anxious I was feeling.
Charlie wasn’t worried at all; he was just happy to have Dad to himself for the weekend. He got this idea in his head that they’d spend the whole of Saturday playing football in the garden, doing special drills and stuff, but it didn’t work out like that.
Dad sat in the lounge for ages after Mum left, staring into space, a cold cup of tea in his hand. It was weird, like he was with us but not really with us.
I started to think he might be ill he was so out of it, but when I actually asked him what was wrong he jumped up, muttering something about some important papers he had to look through, and disappeared upstairs. Charlie wasn’t happy. He trailed around the house after Dad, whining about the football team and Mr Maddox and how unfair everything was.
The whining got louder and more insistent as the day dragged on but Dad hardly seemed to notice; it was as if he’d forgotten we were even in the house. He’d do something ordinary, like open the cupboard to get out a glass, and then stand there for ages with the glass in his hand as if someone had put him in a trance. I took Charlie out into the garden in the end, just to stop him whingeing, but neither of us enjoyed it very much.
It was just as bad at dinner. I heated up the pasta Bolognese Mum had left and served it with my own home-made garlic bread and loads of grated cheese on top, just how Dad likes it. But when we actually sat down to eat he didn’t say a word about the food or the amount of trouble I’d gone to. He didn’t even mention the garlic bread.
I spent most of the meal blinking back tears. The bread tasted like cardboard. I chewed and chewed but it was impossible to swallow. I gave up in the end and scraped the whole lot in the bin.
“I hope you’re not on one of those silly diets, Maddie,” said Dad, noticing at last, but then his phone rang and he scooted out of the room, closing the door behind him.
He seemed to be back to his usual jolly self at breakfast, cracking jokes, trying to make us laugh, but it was difficult to tell whether he was genuinely happy or if it was all a big act. He said he’d planned a special day out, just the three of us, and that we’d need comfy clothes, sun hats and lots of suncream.
The last thing I felt like was a day out, especially with Mum away. I’d hardly slept, tossing and turning for ages, and then when I did finally drop off I had one of my horrible dreams. It was the one where Dad has a stroke, and then Mum and then Charlie. They’re all in hospital together, their beds lined up like in Goldilocks and the Three Bears: a big bed for Dad, a medium-sized one for Mum and a tiny, little one for Charlie.
I go from bed to bed trying to wake them up, trying to get them to talk to me, but it’s as if they’re made of stone. “Wake up!” I shout, getting frantic. “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” I keep shaking them and shouting, but deep inside a part of me knows they’re never going to wake up again.
I tried telling Dad I was tired, that I just wanted to stay at home and wait for Mum to get back, but he insisted I’d love it when we got there.
“We’re going to a beautiful lake where you can hire boats,” he said as we set off in the car. “I went there once when I was a little boy with your nan and granddad.” He glanced at Charlie in the mirror. “I hope you’re feeling strong, mate. I won’t be able to manage the oars without you.”
Charlie stared out of the window, ignoring him. He was still in a sulk about the football. Dad couldn’t win him over that easily.
We left the motorway and were soon driving down a winding country lane. It was a beautiful morning, really warm but not as unbearably hot as the past few weeks. Slowly the knots in my stomach began to unravel and melt away as we drove deeper and deeper into the countryside.
The lake was set in acres of parkland surrounded by a thick forest of trees. Dad parked the car and we made our way down a long overgrown path to the boat-hire company. The sun shone through the trees, bouncing off the water like sprinkles of gold.
It was brilliant on the lake, almost magical. Even Charlie cheered up. It took a while to get the hang of the boat but eventually we settled into it, with Dad rowing at the front, Charlie kind of rowing at the back, and me perched in the middle, sketching the other boats as we went along.
We rowed for about half an hour and then let the boat float to the side of the lake so Charlie could have a rest. His mood had changed completely. He talked non-stop, telling Dad about school and football and Mr Maddox, describing a brilliant goal he’d scored at playtime, and then going on to describe how he’d celebrated, sliding halfway across the pitch on his knees.
When our hire time was almost up, we rowed back and had lunch by the river – big cheese and ham rolls, followed by 99 Flake ice creams. Nan used to love 99 ice creams, especially the flake. Sometimes she’d ask the ice-cream man for an extra one, pretending it was for me or Charlie, and then eat it herself.
My tummy lurched suddenly at the thought of never seeing her again. It just seemed too long. How could someone you love so much be gone for ever? No more cuddles or special treats or days out together. I couldn’t bring myself to eat my last bite of flake – the best bit that’s all covered in ice cream.
“Can we go home?” I said quietly. “I don’t feel very well and I want to see Mum. She promised she’d be back by teatime.”
Dad must have caught something in my tone. “What’s up, Mads? You were fine on the water. Let’s see some of those lovely sketches you did…”
I knew he was trying to distract me, to cheer me up a bit, but the day had lost its sparkle. My tummy was in knots again. It was like being on red alert all the time, waiting for something terrible to happen. I pulled my knees up under my chin and wrapped my arms round my legs, trying to hold myself together.
We set off for home as soon as Charlie finished his ice cream. I began to feel a bit better in the car. Dad asked me about school and promised to help me with my history project when we got in.
“We’ll do football practice first,” he said, winking at Charlie in the mirror, “and then straight on to the English Civil War. I know all about that scallywag Charles and how he came to a sticky end!”
But then just as we turned into our road, his phone started to ring. It was Sharon. I saw her name flash up on the screen a second before Dad answered.
“Sorry, you two,” he said pulling over. “Can you go and wait for me inside? I might be a little while, but I’ve got to take this, it’s important.”
“What do you mean? What about playing football?” said Charlie. “You promised!”
Dad held his finger up to his lips and waved us out of the car but Charlie shook his head and started to kick the back of his seat. “I’m not going in until you tell me when we’re going to play football!”
“Come on, Charlie.” I pulled my front-door key out of my bag, but he shook his head again and kicked even harder.
“I don’t want to. I want to stay in here with Dad.”
“Hang on a sec,” said Dad into the phone. He swung round to face Charlie, furious. “What do you think you’re playing at? I’ve got to speak to someone and you’ll just have to wait! The world doesn’t revolve around you, Charlie Wilkins!”
Charlie’s lip started to wobble. Dad hardly ever gets properly cross with him.
“Well why do you keep saying you’ll play with me and then changing your mind? You didn’t play with me at all yesterday.” He rammed his fists into his eyes, trying not to cry. “I’ll never get picked for the school team at this rate, I’ll never be good enough…”
Dad’s face softened. “Listen to me, Charlie. I am going to play footie with you, I swear, just as soon as I’ve finished this one phone call.”
“Do you promise?” sniffed Charlie.
“Cross my heart
. I might have to pop out for a bit, but there’ll be loads of time when I get back. It won’t be dark for hours yet.”
Charlie stiffened next to me. “Pop out?” he demanded. “What do you mean, pop out?”
The car was too hot suddenly, the heat pressing down on me making it difficult to breathe. Why did Dad have to speak to Sharon right this minute? Why couldn’t he play with Charlie first and then call her back later? And what about helping me with my homework?
“I’m just going for a walk,” I mumbled and slipped out of the car before Charlie started to kick off again.
It was obvious Sharon was important to Dad, more important than spending time with us, but I had no idea why. We’d never even heard of her until two weeks ago. I hurried down Morley Avenue towards the cemetery, anxious to get away. My tummy was hurting again, like I’d eaten way too many 99 Flake ice creams.
It was cool and calm in the cemetery. I trailed over to my usual bench by Nan’s grave, relieved to be away from Dad and Charlie. I didn’t blame Charlie for making such a fuss. I envied him in a way. There was a part of me that felt like confronting Dad myself, kicking the back of the seat, forcing him to tell us the truth about Sharon. But what if he said something terrible, like he’d fallen in love with her, whoever she was? What if the truth was so awful it changed everything for ever?
I sat and watched as an elderly couple arranged flowers on a fairly new-looking gravestone. The woman was sniffing into a white hanky and every now and then the man patted her arm. I still hadn’t asked Dad about the woman who left the note, whether he knew who she was. I’d been too distracted by everything else that was going on at home.
Just to the right of the couple I noticed another man stumbling towards a grave on the other side of the path. He was drinking out of a bottle, but I wasn’t close enough to see what it was. He stopped by the grave, leaning over and muttering something, waving the bottle and swaying from side to side. I knew I should probably go but I couldn’t move. He took a step back, almost losing his balance, and then raised his arm and smashed the bottle down onto the headstone.
It made a horrible noise and a few people turned to see what was going on. The man swung round suddenly. “What are you all shhhtaring at?” he yelled. His words were thick and slurred. “Get lost, the lorra you!” His eyes came to rest on me. “What’sss your problem?” he hissed. “What are you looking at?” I shrank back into the bench as he lurched towards me. “I said, whasss your problem, girlie?” He stumbled back, swearing, and then took another lurching step forward, but before his foot could even touch the ground I sprang up from the bench and flew out of the cemetery.
I kept running all the way back down Morley Avenue without looking back. I knew he wasn’t following me but I only dared stop when I got to the top of our street. I bent over double, gasping for breath, my heart racing so fast it actually hurt. How could something so horrible happen in such a peaceful place? My special place?
I waited until I could breathe normally again and then walked the rest of the way home. Mum was outside on the pavement, her phone in her hand. “Maddie! Why on earth did you run off like that? Where were you? You didn’t text or anything.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, rushing over. I was so relieved to see her even if she was cross. “I was at the cemetery. I must’ve lost track of time.” I reached my arms out for a hug but Mum stepped back slightly and I dropped them back down.
“At the cemetery again?” she said. “You can’t just go off like that. I was really worried!”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Where’s Dad? Has he gone out?”
She let out a long sigh. “He has, but he won’t be late. Come on, it’s nearly teatime and I’ve promised Charlie pasta and meatballs with that special sauce he loves so much.”
We had an okay evening in the end. Charlie helped Mum do the meatballs while I made a start on my history project, but it was difficult to concentrate. My eyes kept straying to the hall, desperate for the sound of Dad’s key in the door, wondering where he was and when he’d be home. He’d promised he’d be back in time to play football with Charlie and to help me with my homework, but his promises didn’t seem to mean very much these days.
He didn’t get back until really late in the end, but even after I heard him come in it was impossible to get to sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about the man in the cemetery, the way he’d smashed the bottle on that grave and then lurched towards me. I’d decided not to say anything to Mum. I didn’t want her to stop me going there altogether.
It was still on my mind as I set off for school the next morning. I waited by the gate until I saw other people walking through and then hurried along the path, only slowing down as I passed the grave where it happened. I expected there to be broken glass everywhere but I couldn’t see a single shard. I edged a bit closer, wondering if the man had cleared it up himself, or if someone from the church had done it.
It was a new grave; I could tell from the stone that it hadn’t been there for long. Some of the graves in the cemetery are over five hundred years old, but this one was smooth and shiny with modern writing. It was the writing I noticed first.
SAMANTHA BLACK
BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER
1974–2013
FOREVER IN OUR HEARTS
I didn’t think anything of it at first, but just as I turned to leave I noticed something else. Piled up in the corner of the grave were five small stones, so small you could easily miss them, each stone balanced carefully, one on top of the other. And that’s when I realized. The word BLACK practically jumped out and hit me. Samantha Black had to be Kieran’s mum. This had to be her grave.
Chapter 10
I rushed out of the cemetery and up Banner Road, trying to work out what it could mean; trying to piece it all together. Was the drunk man Kieran’s dad? I was almost certain Mum said Kieran’s mum was called Samantha when we were talking the other day. Was that why she said she used to know her? Because she was dead? And was that why Kieran freaked out in English? Or was it was just a coincidence? The name and the man and the stones…
Gemma was waiting for me at our usual place, waving as I came up the road.
“How was your weekend?” she asked as we made our way to our lockers. “Did you get your history done?”
I nodded, showing her my book. “I only did three pages. I was out with my dad all day on Sunday so I didn’t have much time.”
“It’s looks great,” she said, glancing at my project. “Hey, Maddie, you’ll never guess what happened yesterday. I was up at the shops with my mum and I saw Nathan.”
“What, Nathan from rounders?”
She nodded, blushing. “I didn’t say hello or anything, I only saw him from a distance. By the way, promise you won’t laugh when you see me tomorrow…”
“What do you mean? Why would I laugh?” I had no idea what she was on about but it had to be something to do with Nathan. It was so obvious she liked him.
“I can’t tell you, Maddie. Just promise, okay?”
“Okay, I promise.”
I hung around by my locker for another few minutes. I was late for nurture group but I felt a bit nervous about seeing Kieran. He was already there by the time I plucked up the courage to go in, so was Sally-Ann. I sat in my usual place and Vivian leaned across the table to hand me the pad. She was wearing a bright-yellow dress, her hair tied back with an orange scarf with tiny yellow butterflies printed all over it.
“I was supposed to be at the hospital this morning,” Sally-Ann was saying, “but the appointment was cancelled at the last minute. I hate it when that happens.”
“Yes it must be frustrating,” said Vivian.
I glanced across at Kieran. He had his stones out but he wasn’t doing anything with them, they were just sitting on the table in front of him. They were almost identical to the stones on the grave.
“It’s not just frustrating,” said Sally-Ann. “It feels like they don’t think I’m ill en
ough to need the appointment.”
“So going to the hospital makes you feel as if they’re taking your illness seriously?”
Sally-Ann nodded. “When I don’t go, I get more and more worried and the pain in my side gets much worse. Not that my mum ever notices, she couldn’t care less. I was ill all weekend. Seriously, Vivian, it was a nightmare.”
I doodled the word NIGHTMARE in bubble writing and then began to shade the letters in. I wondered if it was really such a nightmare or if, in a funny sort of way, Sally-Ann enjoyed the attention.
“Being ill can really spoil things,” said Vivian. “How about you, Maddie, did you have a nice weekend?”
I nodded.
“Did you do anything special?”
“Um, I went out with my dad,” I said, without really thinking. “We went to this lake and hired a rowing boat.” I started doodling again, my face on fire. It was the most I’d ever said in front of the others. The most I’d said at school for months.
Vivian gave me a big smile. “That sounds great,” she said, “and it was such lovely weather. How about you, Kieran?”
“What?” He barely glanced up.
“Did you do anything special at the weekend?”
“Um, I went out with my dad,” he said, mimicking me in a really stupid high voice. “We went to this lake and hired a rowing boat. We had such a great time, and it was such lovely weather!”
Vivian put her head on one side as if she was taking him very seriously. “I wonder if hearing Maddie describe her day out with her dad made you think about how much you’d like to take a boat out yourself?”
He grabbed his stones and closed them tightly in his fist. “It didn’t. I hate boats and I hate weekends.”
There was an awkward silence after that. I carried on shading my bubble letters and Kieran started to balance his stones and then knock them down again. I kept glancing up at him, thinking about Samantha Black’s grave and the man smashing the bottle, wondering if it really was his dad. Maybe that was why he hated weekends so much.
Tangled Secrets Page 7
