by Linda Huber
A shiver ran through his body and he struggled to keep his voice calm. Humour and affection… ‘Compared to my teenage years, she has everything she needs on a plate.’
‘Things are different now. Let’s try, huh?’
He turned away so that Nicola couldn’t see his face. She had no idea that living in the house was destroying him, like he’d known it would. It was much too late to start pouring his heart out, but perhaps he should let her know a little of what he was thinking.
‘Nic, I – I don’t know if I can live here for the rest of my life.’
Nicola stopped dead. ‘Well – we don’t have to. But it’s all right for the moment, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know.’ Wrong, he couldn’t let her know anything of what he was thinking.
Nicola turned back. ‘Okay. Let’s finish renovating, then we could sell up and move into St Ives? What we mustn’t do is force another change of school onto Kelly.’
Selling up was impossible. It was all hopeless; he should never have said anything. ‘Who would buy it? It isn’t mortgageable, here on a crumbling clifftop. And don’t forget about the dry rot in the cellar and the–’
‘We can rent it out, then. Positive thinking, huh? I’m on your side – we can live here or not, I don’t care, as long as Kel’s okay.’ Nicola’s voice was tight, and in a way he understood her frustration. She had uprooted her life for him and Kelly, and taken a huge career step-down with her job.
They walked up the driveway in silence, then Kelly appeared at the front door, glaring.
‘Where were you? You’d have gone ballistic if I’d gone off like that without telling you.’
Nicola pulled an apologetic face. ‘Sorry, sweetie. We stepped along the path for five minutes. But you’re right, we’ll tell you next time, and you tell us too, okay?’
Ed dropped her arm without speaking when they entered the house. Nicola and Kelly headed for the kitchen, and he turned to the cellar door. This was it. He was tied to this house for all eternity, and he had to face what had happened here. He rummaged in his work jacket, hanging on the coat stand, and pulled out half a packet of fags and a lighter. He’d given up at New Year, but that was over as much as his happy London life was over.
Chapter Ten
Sunday, 31st May
Kelly kicked at a pebble on her way along the beach to her favourite rock, evening sunshine warm on her back. The tide was on the way out, but the distant roar of the ocean as waves broke and rushed up the sands carried in on the wind. The beach was the only good part about living here. It was somewhere to come when the roof was falling on her head at home, somewhere she could be alone and part of the enormity of wind, waves and sky. It was even an acceptable place to be. ‘Where are you going, Kelly?’ ‘To the beach.’ ‘Oh, lovely…’
Perched on the rock, she dug out a piece of half-buried driftwood and poked about in the sand at her feet. Even if the beach was okay, she still missed city life. It was as much a gut-ache as missing her friends was, and the half term week with Jess had only made it worse. Mum had no idea how awful it was being shoved into a new class full of people who’d been together since primary school and looked at someone from London like they’d landed from Mars. All Mum’s pseudo-upbeat chat and fake understanding – it made her so mad. Some days, she wouldn’t care if she never saw her parents or their stupid new start in a new home again. Crummy old house on a crumbly cliff, but the way Mum went on you’d think coming here was the best thing to happen all century. Newsflash, Mum, it wasn’t. Dad didn’t think it was, either. Too much work, probably.
Kelly bent for a stone to chuck into one of the rock pools that dotted the coastline, a grin creeping reluctantly over her face. Today’s dinner conversation had been the best ever; she’d barely been able to keep up a suitable scowl. Mum trying so hard not to show how worried she was about Kelly running away to London… ‘-and once you’ve left school with the right A levels, Kel, you’ll be able to pick and choose which uni to go to.’ Kelly lobbed another stone into the pool. Did they think she was stupid? It had taken her two seconds to work out that the right qualifications were going to be her passport out of here and ever since then, her marks had catapulted. She’d be back in London the moment she left school. Or perhaps a more distant uni would be good.
Misery caught up with her, and Kelly blinked. Imagine arriving in a far-off, unknown city where you didn’t know a soul and no one loved you.
‘Hello, Kelly. Enjoying the last day of your holiday?’
The voice came from behind, making her jump. Bloody hell, it was Mr Anderson. Who wanted to meet their English teacher in the holidays? Kelly scrambled to her feet, trying to look nonchalant and ignoring Mr Anderson’s smarmy smile. Trust a teacher to go for a solitary walk on the – oh, he wasn’t alone. A white poodle bounded up and greeted Kelly enthusiastically, which at least allowed her to bend over while she patted it, wiping her eyes surreptitiously with the other hand.
‘I was visiting friends in London,’ she said, straightening up and staring disdainfully at the ocean. ‘It was great to get away from the Cornish gales for a while.’
‘Very nice. Did you go to the theatre? The Tempest’s still running.’
Kelly stopped her eyes rolling just in time. ‘No. Went to see Ariana Grande, though.’
‘Excellent. My daughter would be jealous. Well, enjoy your evening – I’ll see you in class tomorrow. This is the important term, isn’t it? GCSEs.’
Kelly sank back onto her rock as soon as his back was turned, and leaned her chin in one hand. She couldn’t even look cool in front of her geeky English teacher. His daughter was like, nine. The kids at school all laughed at him because his wife was about a century younger than he was. And as if she needed reminding about the exams. A movement on the clifftop made Kelly look up, and there was Mum, waving a tea towel for God’s sake. Of course, it was time to get ready for school tomorrow. Kelly thrust her hands into the opposite sleeves of her sweatshirt and slouched towards the pathway to the top. The wind down here was freezing, anyway, and the only thing halfway good in her whole life was the thought that Jess’s mum had invited her back to London the weekend after her birthday, for the Rock Home concert. Jess’s dad was supposed to be going with them, but Jess was making a plan for giving him the slip. Bring it on.
School didn’t start well the following day. Monday morning consisted of double maths, physics and P.T, all of which Kelly loathed. She slouched into the lunch room at twelve o’clock and sat down near the window to eat her boring cheese and pickle sandwiches, surrounded by the little gaggle of girls from her class. And how young they seemed after a week spent with Jess.
‘Tell us what you did in London, then.’
Kelly took a deep breath and started, embellishing the truth as she described her holiday. Usually the girls talked about something local she didn’t know the first thing about; it was flattering how they were hanging on her every word about the shows and concerts and clubs she’d been to. But disbelieving looks and giggles came thick and fast when she started on about nightclubs and cocktails, and in no time the girls’ conversation had switched to what was happening with the new ice cream parlour at Porthmeor beach. Babies. Kelly stuck her nose in the air and went off for a walk around the playground. Geography, English and music rounded the day off, and they had to listen to bits of Brahms’ boring requiem all the last period. Miss Knight hadn’t used her holiday to prepare interesting music lessons, that was sure. Kelly fled the classroom the moment the bell went. At least she’d get the house to herself for a bit; today was one of Mum’s days at the Arts Centre and she wouldn’t be back until half five.
Home again, she dropped her rucksack at the foot of the stairs and went into the kitchen and heck, Dad was at the table. So much for her hour of peace and quiet.
He barely glanced up from his newspaper. ‘Hi, Kel. Got much homework?’
What happened to How was your day, darling? Not that she’d tell him, but it would be n
ice if he thought she was more important than the bloody homework. He never talked to her properly now. Kelly wrinkled her nose at the back of his balding grey head on her way to the fridge for a coke. Except there weren’t any; today was just getting better and better.
‘Nah.’ She yanked the bottle of orange juice from the fridge and poured a glassful.
He stood up. ‘A little civility goes a long way, Kelly. You should try it.’
Kelly tossed her head. What was he doing home at this time, anyway? ‘Lost your job again?’
She wished the words back as soon as they left her mouth and she saw his shoulders jerk. That was mean, it wasn’t his fault he’d been kicked out in London. ‘Dad, I’m sor–’
He leaned towards her, ice cold eyes boring into hers. ‘Be quiet, miss. You’d better take that juice to your room, and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t come down until you’ve found your manners. You don’t want to see me angry.’ He lifted his newspaper and stalked towards the sofa.
Kelly strolled from the kitchen with as much dignity as she could muster, then ran upstairs, juice slopping over the fingers holding the glass. Sent to her room like a stupid kid… but she didn’t dare disobey. He’d never spoken to her like that before.
‘Are you going to tell me what happened?’ Mum poured them both a mug of tea.
Kelly sat fiddling with a teaspoon, her eyes down. It had been an awkward meal. Her father had barely spoken, and when Mum suggested a cup of tea and a chat when they’d finished, he grunted something about not talking to rude kids and left the kitchen. The Land Rover’s roar announced his return to the park, which was the only place he ever went to as far as Kelly knew. The park, and the DIY store.
‘Kelly?’ Mum’s eyebrows were practically scraping the ceiling.
Kelly slumped in her chair. For some reason, the spat with her dad had been scarier than it usually was when they were mouthing off at each other. That look on his face… She cleared her throat. ‘I suppose I was a bit rude, but I didn’t mean it seriously, Mum. He’s lost whatever sense of humour he ever had.’
‘What did you say?’
It didn’t sound humorous when she mumbled their conversation, Mum gawping into her eyes all the time. Okay, she’d messed up.
Her mother gave Kelly’s arm a quick shake. ‘You were being a horrible teenager, Kel. You know how distraught your dad was when he lost that job.’
Kelly stared at her hands. ‘I said I was sorry.’ Well, she would have if he’d let her.
‘I’ll have a word. But Kelly – remember the old saying that sticks and stones can hurt people where words can’t? Well, it’s rubbish. A few ill-chosen words can hurt like hell. Something to think about, huh?’
Kelly sniffed. Mum might be right, but it worked both ways, didn’t it? Her father’s voice echoed in her head. You don’t want to see me angry.
Chapter Eleven
The Boy, aged twelve
Life could not be more crummy. Eddie flung his schoolbag into the corner and dropped down at his desk, stabbing the ‘on’ button on his cassette recorder. ‘Hotel California’ filled the room, and he shivered. Checking out but never able to leave – that was this house exactly. Yet again he was trapped alone with his father; his idiotic selfish sister had gone and broken her arm and their mother had skived off to St Andrews to help her prepare for her exams. At least that was the story, but it didn’t need much for Mum to jump ship for days on end now. A problem with her parents, a trip to ‘motivate Melanie’ – Mum spent more time in bloody Scotland than she did here. Dad didn’t care – he said all she was good for was to keep the house going. As long as the freezer was filled and the washing more or less up to date, she could do what she liked, and wasn’t she the lucky one? Eddie’s head descended to the desk. He had exams too, didn’t he? Everyone did, at the end of the school year. And nobody was rushing to help him, except his father, and his wasn’t the kind of help anyone wanted.
‘New Kid in Town’ began, and Eddie reached for his schoolbag. Geography first, then English, then Maths, and he was so rubbish at Maths. Choking warmth rose in his throat and he swallowed, prodding his plump arm with a pencil. He was soft, Dad said. Often. Then he would snigger in that stupid way, and Eddie wouldn’t be able to hide his fear, and Dad would laugh louder, but not in a nice way. Man up, boy.
Eddie rubbed two tears away and opened his geography book. No way could he let Dad catch him crying. He pictured the scene: Dad’s footsteps coming up the stairs… that voice, mocking and quiet then flipping to razor sharp and piercing. Eddie’s knees shook. The worst had been the time he’d wet himself because he’d bent the front wheel of his bike. He’d wheeled the bike all the way from St Ives, hoping against hope that his father wasn’t at home, but knowing he would be. Dad laughed hysterically at the tell-tale dark patch spreading over his son’s jeans, but ten seconds later the laughter turned into Dad’s usual cutting taunts. Stop, don’t think about it. Eddie opened his geography book.
He leapt up to inspect his face in the wardrobe mirror as soon as car wheels crunched over the gravel outside. Red eyes at dinner weren’t an option. They just grabbed a sandwich in the evenings when Mum was away, but tonight the front door slamming shut was followed by a yell up the stairs.
‘Fish and chips!’
Eddie hurried down. His father was at the table, a greasy pack in front of him and a savoury, vinegary smell in the air.
‘Eat it while it’s hot. I got them to put them into one of those thermal bags to keep the heat in. And guess what?’
Dad was in a good mood tonight, for some reason. He was eating hungrily, little piggy eyes gleaming across the table.
Eddie started on his chips, still pretty hot, and good. ‘What?’
‘We’re going boxing later. Chap in the pub, a regular, he’s taken over the gym in Siddon Street and they’re starting a group for youngsters. Beginners, like you. It’ll do you the world of good. Get some muscles on you, boy.’
The chips turned to cardboard in his mouth as dread filled Eddie’s soul. Boxing. There was nothing he wanted to do less.
Siddon Street wasn’t far from the school. They left the car in the library car park and he walked beside his father, who was still in that uncharacteristic good mood, whistling as he strode along, one hand on Eddie’s shoulder propelling him forwards. Inside, the gym was smelly; sweat mingling with something indefinable. Testosterone? They were doing hormones in biology this term; it was a weird mixture of interesting and embarrassing and funny.
‘Hullo there, Davie!’ A man appeared and clapped Dad’s back. ‘And this is your boy? On you go with Kev, son, and we’ll get you wrapped and started. Warm-up first.’
Eddie followed Kev, who was smaller than he was and skinnier but with wiry arms that were nothing like his soft ones. In the locker room, he changed his shoes and stashed his bag behind a battered metal door. Kev wrapped his hands in orange bandages ‘to prevent injuries’ then they went into another room where four other boys and a girl were waiting. The man – Stu – came in and the warm-up started, leaving them all hot and panting before they even started learning how to do jabs and cross jabs, punching the air and bobbing on their feet. Kev and Stu went round the group egging them on, and heat flushed through Eddie as he stumbled over his feet. Even his arms were pink now, and wobbling. The other kids were all bouncing around with big happy smiles – why wasn’t he enjoying it too? And oh, no, Dad had come in and was watching, a scowl darkening on his face.
Stu clapped his hands. ‘Right, you lot. We’ll get you gloved up and try some punches with the bags.’
The gloves were ancient and smelled of a hundred years’ sweat. Stomach heaving, Eddie stood with limp arms until everyone had gloves on. He supported a punchbag while the girl, who was in the year below him at school, sent thick and fast punches juddering through the leather as loathing filled Eddie’s soul.
It was the worst hour he’d spent all year, but at last it was over and they returned to f
resh air, Dad’s hand gripping his neck all the way back to the car.
‘It’s high time I took you in hand. You’re an embarrassment. You’ll do two sessions a week, and you’d better get fit fast, boy.’
Desperation drove Eddie to speech. ‘I – can’t I do something else? Running, or–’
The grip on his neck tightened, and he was jerked to a halt as his father’s face, red and angry, descended until it was inches from his own.
‘Are you mad? You must be. Running… You’ll do boxing, boy, and like it. Get into the car.’
The drive home was silent, then he was marched to his room. ‘In there, and you don’t get out until I let you. Namby pamby idiot. I’m sick of the sight of you.’
The key turned in the lock, and Eddie sank down on the floor. He smelled as bad as the gym, and there was nothing he could do about it. His father was right; he was a sissy.
Chapter Twelve
Wednesday, June 10th
Nicola held up the black and gold T-shirt in the St Ives boutique she’d wandered into in her quest for birthday goodies for her girl. Kelly would love this. Two weeks tomorrow was the big day, and she wanted to find something to go with the cash they were giving Kelly – half of her Rock Home ticket, the other half to be earned by extra help in the garden in the summer hols. She could get this T-shirt, and let Kelly choose some funky earrings to go with it.
She rubbed her arms, trying to drum up some warmth as the assistant folded the T-shirt. Kelly was still – not distant, because she was happy about going to Rock Home and thankfully, the fact that Jess’s dad was going with the girls had been accepted without comment, but… The minute I’m sixteen I’m going back, and you can’t stop me. Nicola couldn’t forget that. She sighed.
