The Butterfly Novels Box Set: Contemporary YA Series (And By The Way; And For Your Information; And Actually)

by Denise Deegan

  Oh for God’s sake! I swivel round. ‘So, what, you, like, accidentally fell into bed with her? Your clothes accidentally flew off? And you accidentally ended up on top of her. Is that it?’

  He has the decency to look guilty. ‘What I mean is, it wasn’t planned. It didn’t mean anything. Two lonely people in the wrong place at the wrong time.’ He shakes his head, as if it’s useless trying to explain. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t expect you to understand –’

  ‘Oh, I understand. I understand loneliness. I get loneliness. What I don’t get is how quickly a person can forget his wife for the first lonely woman he happens to accidentally fall into bed with.’

  ‘Alex. It was a mistake. It’ll never happen again. I swear.’ He puts his hand to his heart, like a soldier pledging allegiance.

  ‘I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Wait. I need to know. Where were you?’

  ‘Out.’

  ‘Clearly you were out. Where out? And who with, until three in the morning?’

  I start walking.

  ‘Alex!’

  And suddenly I’m sick of the concerned-parent act. I turn to face him. ‘You really want to know?’ It’s a dare.

  ‘Yes, Alex, I really want to know. We were calling everywhere. I was about to contact the police.’

  ‘Alright, since you ask. I was out having meaningless sex with a guy you wouldn’t approve of.’ I sound proud. I feel the opposite.

  ‘What?’

  I repeat every word – making my voice cheerful.

  ‘I heard you.’ He says it so quietly.

  ‘It’s OK. It didn’t mean anything.’ I throw his words back at him.

  ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ he asks slowly.

  ‘Oh, no, it’s not serious. And I haven’t decided if it was a mistake. Or an accident.’

  He sinks into the chair beside the phone.

  ‘Go to your room,’ he says without looking at me.

  ‘Sure,’ I say, happy for shocking him, for getting a reaction. But sad too, like I’ve lost something.

  I climb into bed, still in my clothes. I just want to sleep. Forever. But then, from downstairs, I hear his voice, raised and angry. I go to the door. Stand out on the landing.

  ‘You were supposed to be watching her,’ he says. ‘You were supposed to be keeping her safe.’

  Mike says nothing.

  ‘How could you let her disappear like that? Anything could have happened.’

  Anything did happen, that’s his problem. And now he’s blaming Mike. I creep downstairs. I stand outside his office door.

  ‘I can’t tolerate this, Mike. I can’t risk it happening again. I have to know that she’s safe twenty-four hours a day.’ He sounds emotional, close to the edge. ‘I’ve one daughter. One daughter. I will not put her at risk.’ There’s a long pause. ‘You’re going to have to find yourself another job, Mike. I’m giving you a month’s notice.’

  Oh my God. He can’t do that.

  ‘Fine,’ Mike finally speaks. ‘But save me all that “one daughter” bull.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You’ve a lovely kid there, a fantastic kid, but you don’t give her the time of day. You don’t even know her.’

  ‘Don’t tell me I don’t know my own daughter.’

  ‘OK, what does she do when she’s upset?’ It’s a challenge.

  ‘I don’t have to answer to you.’

  ‘She shops. She blows the money you dole out on her instead of your time.’

  ‘I don’t need this.’ I hear The Rockstar’s chair slide back.

  ‘Alex lost her mother. You’re all she’s got. But you spend your time working. No wonder she’s gone off the rails.’ I was right behind him till ‘off the rails’. ‘Do yourself a favour. Do Alex a favour and take a long, hard look in the mirror. Because you are the problem here.’ Then Mike surprises me by coming through the door. I stand back. But it’s too late. He sees me. And stops.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘You weren’t meant to hear that.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t run off –’

  His smile looks forced. ‘Needed a change of scene anyway.’

  I’m straight into the office. ‘Fire Mike and I’m out of here. I don’t know where I’ll go, but I swear to God I will go.’

  He drops his head into his hands. ‘Jesus!’ comes out as a sigh.

  ‘You’d better hire him back right now or I swear to God –’

  He looks up. ‘Mike’s job is to protect you.’

  ‘Isn’t yours?’

  He’s nothing to say to that, so I keep going, while I have the moral high ground. ‘Mike is the best at what he does. As far as he was concerned, I was home. Safe. This is not his fault.’

  ‘I’m not having him speak to me like that.’

  ‘So you’re just going to fire him?’

  He sighs deeply. Then puts his hands up. ‘OK. OK. Fine. Mike can stay . . .’

  A sudden thought hits me. ‘What if he doesn’t want to now? You have to apologise. Ask him back. Mike’s the best. You have to treat him right.’

  ‘Alex, I know that, OK?’ He sounds tired. ‘Now, go to bed. It’s been a long night.’

  ‘I want to talk to him first.’ I walk out.

  ‘Five minutes,’ he calls after me.

  I find Mike in the security office, staring at a screen which shows the front gate. His shoulders are slouched. Mike never slouches.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mike.’

  He swivels round in his chair. Smiles like he’s not bothered. ‘I’ll find something else.’

  ‘But he’s not firing you! He’s sorry. He’s coming to apologise.’

  ‘After what I said?’

  ‘You just told the truth . . . Thanks, by the way. I didn’t think you noticed.’

  ‘I should have said something long ago, not waited till he fired me.’

  ‘So, you’ll stay?’ I ask. Because I have to know.

  He looks at me for a long time. ‘No more vanishing acts?’

  ‘No more vanishing acts.’ I cross my heart like I used to do when I was little.

  He smiles. And, before I can stop myself, I throw my arms around him.

  TWENTY-SIX | THAT BOY

  In the morning, The Rockstar’s in the kitchen when I come down, standing at the window, staring out. I ignore him and go for my cornflakes.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ he says, coming away from the window.

  His hair is sticking up all over the place. The lines on his face stand out like branches against the sky. The shadows under his eyes are dark smudges. Good, he didn’t sleep either.

  ‘Can we talk?’ he asks.

  I ignore him, just sit at the table and look into my cereal. If he wants to talk, let him.

  He sits opposite. ‘Marsha left today. She’s gone back to the States.’

  I pretend not to hear.

  ‘Alex, the last thing anybody wanted was to hurt you.’

  I start to count cornflakes. Eventually, he’ll have to leave. There’s a long silence. ‘Do you think I let you down?’

  I’m so surprised, I look up. He’s looking at me like he’s hoping I’ll say no. Well, if he thinks I’m going to lie, here, he can forget it. He closes his eyes, like he’s heard the worst news.

  ‘Mike’s right,’ he sighs deeply. ‘I have let you down.’ His eyes fill with regret. But there’s something else. It’s not The Rockstar looking at me now but my father. ‘I’ve lost you, haven’t I?’ he asks. And it’s like everything’s changed, like I’m not his little girl any more.

  I swallow.

  ‘Alex, I’m sorry.’

  Does he really think it’s that simple? A quick ‘I’m sorry’ and everything will be OK? Someone else could do with a ‘sorry’, but she’ll never be able to hear it.

  ‘Is that it?’ I ask, like I’m bored. I slide my chair back.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘That’s not it. This boy. Do you love him?’

  ‘Louis?’ I laug
h, loud and harsh. ‘Did you love The Stylist?’

  He looks sick. ‘Tell me, at least, that you took precautions.’

  ‘Oh my God. I can’t believe you asked me that. Did I ask you if you took “precautions” with her?’ And, what, does he think I’m a complete retard?

  He takes a deep breath like he’s trying to be patient. ‘Alex, I have to make sure you’re safe. I’m your father.’

  ‘Since, like, when, a few minutes ago?’ But the real question is: how long is he planning to stay a father – another five seconds?

  ‘I want you to stop seeing that boy.’

  ‘What boy?’

  ‘Don’t act cute. The boy you were with last night.’

  ‘I’m not seeing him.’

  ‘Right, well, make sure you don’t.’

  ‘Oh yeah, and, like, you’re Mr Authority all of a sudden?’ I glare at him, the switch-on dad, and decide that, actually, I will see Louis again – just to spite him.

  ‘I can be Mr Authority if I have to be.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘OK. Enough. You’re grounded, young lady.’

  I burst out laughing. He’s never grounded me in his life. I get up and head for the door. But just before walking through, I stop and turn. ‘Oh and by the way – grounding only works for people who have a life.’

  I run upstairs. In my room, I look up Louis’s number on my mobile. He answers on the fifth ring. He sounds groggy, like he was still asleep. And I wonder what I’m doing.

  ‘Yeah?’

  I think of The Rockstar and urge myself forward. ‘It’s Alex.’

  ‘Well, hel-lo.’ It’s like he’s suddenly sitting up.

  ‘Want to meet up sometime?’ I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  There’s a pause. ‘I got that wrong.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Didn’t think you’d call.’

  ‘So, when?’ Damn. I remember Mike. Can’t risk him getting fired again. ‘I’ll call you straight back.’

  I run downstairs. The Rockstar’s in his office, lying on his black leather couch with a wet cloth over his face. And I hate to disturb but – ‘So, what exactly do you mean by grounded?’

  He takes off the cloth and sits up. He looks exhausted.

  ‘I mean that when you come in from school –’

  ‘Work,’ I say, just to annoy him.

  ‘OK, work. When you come in from work, you stay in.’

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘The rest of the evening.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘How long am I grounded for?’

  ‘Oh, right.’ After some hesitation, he opts for a week. He could sound more sure, like he did when I was a kid and he’d no problem saying no.

  ‘OK,’ I say, and walk straight out.

  On my way back upstairs, I try to work out a time I’m free and not expected home.

  I call Louis back. ‘Lunchtime, Monday.’

  He laughs. ‘You think you could be more specific?’

  ‘Look, I’m grounded. It’s the only time I’ve got.’

  I hear the smile in his voice when he says, ‘Naughty girl, were we?’

  ‘Louis, are we doing this or not?’

  ‘We’re doing this.’ There’s a long pause. ‘OK. Come to my place. There’ll be no one around.’

  I know what that means. I also know that this was never about tea and a chat.

  ‘Can’t stay long,’ I say, to make sure of that.

  ‘Ah,’ he says, like he’s smiling. ‘Forgot, there, for a minute you were the guy in the relationship.’

  ‘What relationship?’ I ask, warily.

  ‘See what I mean?’ He laughs. ‘Don’t worry, Alex, I’m as allergic to commitment as the next guy. You’re safe with me.’

  ‘Good.’ I hang up, look at the phone and wonder where the real Alex has gone.

  The movie I pick to get me through the afternoon is Reservoir Dogs. Nothing in it that could remind me of my life. Just plain old bank robbery and murder. Blood and guts by men in black suits. I’m just wondering if I should skip the torture scene when Mike calls my mobile. My gran’s just pulled up in a taxi. I get up immediately. I hurry upstairs, worried that something’s wrong.

  She’s getting out of the taxi. I run down the steps. She waves hello but when she sees me, she’s the one who looks worried.

  ‘You’ve lost weight,’ she says. ‘And I’ve never seen you so pale.’

  ‘I’m fine. Is everything OK?’ She looks OK.

  ‘You sound exhausted,’ she says, peering at me. ‘I hope you’re not getting ME.’ Gran has three medical encyclopedias. And doesn’t need an excuse to use them.

  ‘It was just a cold,’ I remind her.

  ‘Come here. Let me have a look at you.’ She drags down my lower lids like I’m a child, and peers in. ‘You might be anaemic.’ Her concern makes me want to cry. ‘I think you’re all right,’ she says, ‘but I’ll get you on a course of iron, just to be on the safe side.’ She frowns. ‘Might make you a bit constipated –’

  ‘Gran!’

  ‘What?’ she asks innocently. ‘Someone should be looking after you.’ I think she hates him. Which makes two of us.

  So it’s awkward when we bump into him in the hall.

  ‘Grace,’ he says, extending his hand, ‘good to see you.’

  She shakes it without a smile, which is so not Gran. ‘John. How are you? Working hard?’

  For a moment he doesn’t reply. Then, he turns to me.

  ‘Too hard,’ he says, like it’s an apology. Then he’s looking at Gran. ‘Grace. Can I get you tea, coffee?’

  ‘No, thank you. Alex will look after me.’

  ‘All right, good.’

  Then, just as it looks like he’s going to make a getaway, Gran asks, ‘Have you been feeding her at all?’

  His Adam’s apple shoots up. His eyes sweep to me like he’s expecting to see a skeleton. He shifts uncomfortably, the man with the platinum sales and MTV Video Music Awards.

  And then, Gran is moving away. ‘Right, well, I think it’s time for the library,’ she says to me.

  ‘Right, well, good to see you,’ he says and, for once, he doesn’t rush off, but waits until we walk away.

  The library is Gran’s favourite room, the smallest and cosiest in the house. She helped Mum decorate it. I think it reminds her of that time. I shut the door behind us and light the fire that is always set.

  ‘I think I need a sherry after that,’ she says. It’s not like her to be harsh.

  I get the sherry. It seems to revive her. I pour myself a Coke so she’s not drinking alone.

  ‘So, how’s my favourite American?’ she asks, reminding me why I’ve been avoiding her.

  I look into my Coke and mumble, ‘Not sure.’

  ‘What do you mean you’re not sure?’

  Might as well tell her; she’ll get it out of me anyway. ‘David’s gone back to live in the States.’

  ‘What?’

  She heard.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Gran, I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘OK, but why did he go back to the States?’

  I answer only because I know she won’t give up. ‘His father lost his job.’

  ‘Are you telling me that, after all those children have been through, he’s uprooted them again because he lost his job? What’s wrong with the man? I mean, how hard did he try to find another one here?’

  I shrug.

  ‘When did he lose his job?’

  ‘A few weeks ago.’

  ‘So he didn’t try at all. Has he actually got a job in the States or did he just run back there with his tail between his legs when things got tough?’

  ‘David said there’s more security on the military side –’

  She tut-tuts. ‘The man’s a coward. I mean, what kind of world would it be if we all let fear make our decisions for us?’

  ‘Gran, can we not talk about this?’

  She looks at me and her face so
ftens. ‘I’m sorry. He was just such a nice boy. And so good to you. You’ll miss him.’

  Understatement.

  ‘Come here, give your old Gran a hug. No wonder you’re miserable.’

  I close my eyes. She smells safe and familiar, and I almost give in, I almost cry. But I keep my jaw set. And I stay on track.

  When Gran goes, I return her sherry glass to the kitchen. Just inside the door, I stop. I’m about to back up when he sees me. He’s standing at the hob, wearing Mum’s red-and-white spotted apron and consulting one of her old cookery books. He looks up and smiles.

  ‘What would you like for dinner?’

  I’m cautious. ‘Where’s Barbara?’

  ‘I gave her the rest of the day off.’

  ‘But you don’t know how to cook.’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Look, it’s OK,’ I say. ‘I’ll make myself a sandwich later.’

  ‘How about curry? You used to love curry.’

  ‘Mum’s curry.’

  ‘I can make Mum’s curry.’

  Just before I walk out on him, I say, ‘And what’s that going to do, bring her back?’

  He makes the curry anyway. And guilt makes me sit down with him to eat it. It’s just the two of us. No Marsha. No Barbara. No Mike. And none of the general hangers-on. For once, I could do with them here. I put an elbow on the table, between us, so I don’t have to look at him.

  ‘So,’ he says. ‘Grace is looking well.’

  I can ignore that. It wasn’t a question.

  ‘How’s she doing?’

  I look right at him when I say, ‘She misses Mum.’ I let it hang there so he’ll get the message – he should miss her too.

  Victory! He looks guilty. His eyes return to his meal. After a while, though, he tries again, ‘So, how’s the work experience going?’

  ‘Fine,’ I say into the curry, which, weirdly, is good enough to remind me of Mum.

  ‘What are they like, the people you work with?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘I should call in sometime and buy something. Support them.’

  I look up suddenly. ‘Don’t!’ He’s supposed to be an engineer. He takes a deep breath. Then says, ‘OK.’ He looks so hurt, I almost explain. Then I remember how things are.