Chocolate Box Girls

by Cathy Cassidy

  The only one who can see what’s happening is me.

  I would like to turn away and pretend I haven’t noticed. I’d like to change into my swimsuit and run down into the surf, acting as if nothing at all is wrong, but I can’t. I’ve been there myself, too many times, sad and lost and tearful because I wanted something I couldn’t have, a parent who was long gone.

  I take a deep breath and walk towards Honey. As I approach, I notice she is talking on her mobile again. Snatches of conversation drift across to me, and I hesitate, unsure of myself.

  This time she is talking to Shay, and her tone is so urgent, so pleading, I know I shouldn’t be listening.

  ‘Yes … I know … I know … but please, Shay?’ she whispers. ‘Something awful’s happened. Seriously. I need you, I really do! Please?’

  She stands up, shakily, snapping the mobile shut carelessly. Then she sees me, and her face falls, and the mobile slides from her fingers and plummets into a rock pool with a satisfying splash.

  ‘Honey!’ I blurt out stupidly. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Does it look like it?’ she mutters. ‘What do you care, anyhow?’

  ‘Of course I care! You’re crying, Honey …’

  She drags an arm across her eyes, eyeliner smudged and lashes starred with tears.

  ‘I never cry,’ she tells me, and I just nod and offer her my swimming towel. She takes it, wiping the streaks of eyeliner and tears from her cheeks, tilting her chin upwards, defiant.

  ‘Has … has something happened?’ I ask.

  ‘Nothing new,’ she says bitterly. ‘My dad cancelled out on me … again. Something came up, something unavoidable. No, strike that … something disastrous, OK? So if I look upset, that’s fine, because my dad just dropped the biggest bombshell ever …’

  She glares at me, and for a moment the mask slips and I see the hurt behind her smoky-blue eyes. It doesn’t make her any easier to like, but perhaps a little easier to understand.

  ‘A bombshell?’ I echo. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  Honey pushes a fist against her mouth, shaking her head. ‘You think I’d tell you?’ she chokes out. ‘Yeah, right. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? So you could have a laugh at my expense …’

  ‘I’d never do that!’ I argue, but Honey just rolls her eyes.

  ‘Forget I ever told you anything, Cherry Costello,’ she whispers. ‘This isn’t your business. If you really want to help, just go away, leave me alone.’

  I look at Honey, her fairy wings wilting sadly. For a moment, I think I could reach out, put an arm round her shoulders, tell her I want to help, but I know she’d push me away. She doesn’t want my sympathy, I can see that.

  I turn and walk down to where the picnic blankets are spread out across the sand. I’ve lost any interest in swimming now. I just sink to my knees and begin to unpack the baskets, setting out pizza, quiche, potato salad, sausages and crusty bread rolls, as well as cake and crisps and fizzy pop.

  After a while, Skye, Summer and Coco wade out of the surf and wander over, laughing, grabbing up towels, and Fred bounds after them, shaking himself violently and splattering me with icy water.

  ‘That was fantastic!’ Skye declares. ‘You missed out, Cherry!’

  ‘I just … didn’t feel like it, in the end,’ I shrug.

  ‘Well … there’ll be other times.’

  ‘Hey, Honey!’ Coco yells, waving over at her sister. ‘We’re eating! Come on! It’ll all be gone!’

  ‘Later,’ Honey calls back.

  Summer frowns. ‘Is she OK?’

  I bite my lip. ‘I think … that phone call … maybe your dad cancelled her stay again?’ I say. ‘She seems a bit upset.’

  Skye shakes her head. ‘Typical. He always does this! And talk about leaving it till the last minute – this has to be the worst timing ever.’

  ‘She’s been in such a great mood too.’ Summer frowns. ‘Should we go over and say something?’

  ‘I tried,’ I say lightly. ‘I’m not sure she wants my sympathy, though …’

  ‘No,’ Skye says with a sigh. ‘She’d bite anyone’s head off right now, probably. Best let her calm down a bit …’

  ‘Suppose she’ll come over when she’s ready …’ Coco says anxiously.

  We are digging into pizza slices, a little subdued, trying to keep the sausages away from Fred, when Coco shouts out.

  ‘Hey … isn’t that Shay?’

  In the distance, out on the bay, a small figure in a red canoe is paddling in towards the shore. The wheat-coloured fringe and black beanie hat are hard to miss, even at a distance, and a few minutes later Shay is nudging the canoe on to the sand, jumping out and dragging it up on to the shingle.

  ‘Hey!’ Skye calls over. ‘I thought you were grounded?’

  ‘Honey called me. She says there’s some kind of emergency?’

  ‘Dad again,’ Summer says. ‘Looks like he’s cancelled Honey’s visit.’

  Shay rolls his eyes. ‘Right. Well, I made a break for it. Dad went off to the pub with a mate, so I decided to take one of the canoes for a spin …’

  ‘You nicked the canoe?’ Coco asks, wide-eyed.

  ‘I didn’t nick it exactly,’ Shay protests. ‘It’s a family business, after all. Dad’s canoe is my canoe, and all that … look, I’d better go talk to her.’

  He walks across to where Honey is sitting, on the rocks beneath the cliff, and the two of them huddle close, talking intently. At one point, they seem to be arguing, but then Honey nuzzles into Shay’s neck, and I have to look away.

  We have almost finished eating by the time they wander over to join us.

  Honey is trying a little too hard to be bright and breezy, and if she seems slightly brittle as well, nobody mentions it. You would never guess the shine in her eyes came from tears.

  ‘Hey,’ I say. ‘We saved you some food …’

  Honey just raises an eyebrow and helps herself to pizza.

  ‘Just so you all know,’ she says. ‘Dad cancelled my visit. It’s no biggie … I’d rather stay here anyway, obviously … with Shay. Anyhow, Dad said he’d ring tomorrow, after breakfast … he wants to talk to you all.’

  Summer pulls a face. ‘What about?’ she asks. ‘He never rings, usually!’

  Honey shrugs. A flicker of pain flashes across her eyes, but I’m not sure if anyone else notices. ‘He’s got a new job,’ she says. ‘But he wants to tell you about it himself. Anyway. Who needs London, right?’

  She leans in against Shay, but he edges forward, reaching over for the sausages, as if he hasn’t noticed her.

  ‘So tell me, girls …’ he says. ‘How did the festival go? Did you manage without me?’

  ‘The festival was amazing,’ Summer tells him. ‘Everyone worked really hard, we sold out of truffles and Mum and Paddy took enough orders to keep us busy for a month at least …’

  ‘I told about a million chocolate fortunes,’ Skye says. ‘And the chocolate fountain and the cafe were mad-busy too …’

  ‘We had our photos taken for the papers!’ Coco chips in. ‘Dressed as chocolate fairies!’

  ‘Yeah?’ he grins. ‘Well, remember me when you’re famous …’

  Honey laughs and slides an arm round his waist, but Shay pulls back from her slightly and his eyes catch on to mine so that I have to look away. When I glance up again, Honey is watching me with a slightly puzzled look, as though she has missed something but isn’t sure what. Guilt twists inside me like poison.

  When you look closely, it’s not too hard to see the cracks in their relationship, cracks that could break the whole thing apart. That makes me feel anxious and hopeful and guilty and about a million other emotions too, all mixed up together … especially now.

  I see Honey offer Shay a mug of lemonade and watch him shake his head and reach out for the Irn-Bru instead. I see him choose mushroom pizza instead of pepper
oni, chocolate cake instead of doughnuts, crisps instead of peanuts. Whatever Honey offers him, he wants something different, and when she strokes his hand, ruffles his fringe, he brushes her off carelessly, barely noticing.

  Honey notices, though.

  ‘I can’t believe your dad has grounded you,’ she tells him, trying to corner his attention. ‘He is so over the top. I mean, aren’t you allowed to have a life?’

  ‘Apparently not,’ Shay sighs. ‘He thinks I spend too much time up here.’

  ‘You do,’ Skye laughs. ‘But so what? We don’t mind. What was all that rubbish about the late nights, though? Honey’s curfew is eleven, and even Paddy and Charlotte hit the hay soon after that, so where he gets the idea you’re here till one or two in the morning from …’

  Shay glances over at me, guiltily, and Honey catches the look. Her eyes darken. Something is bothering her, and sooner or later she’ll work it out.

  ‘I told you before, my dad is crazy,’ Shay shrugs, a little too smoothly. ‘He just invents stuff. What would I be doing anyhow, lurking around till the early hours of the morning? Like you said, Skye, you lot are all asleep … and face it, rural Somerset is hardly party central, is it?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Skye laughs. ‘It’s still pretty cool, though. Cherry was asking me about the smugglers’ caves, the other week … I told her you were the expert tour guide there, Shay!’

  His faces lights up, and he grins across at me. ‘Oh, I was there today, with a whole gang of grockles in canoes,’ he says. ‘I’ll take you, Cherry, I told you, any time you want to see them …’

  He trails away into silence, and this time I know that Honey’s not the only one to have picked up on his enthusiasm. Shay’s cheeks stain with pink and he tries to hide behind his fringe, suddenly awkward. ‘Some time, I mean,’ he backtracks. ‘Maybe. If I can find the time …’

  The damage is done.

  I freeze beneath Honey’s glare, hardly daring to breathe, as if staying very still might make me invisible. It won’t, of course. Honey looks at Shay and looks at me, and sees what I have been too scared to.

  He likes me too.

  It’s not rocket science. If he’d been any other boy … a boy without a drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriend, for example, who just happens to be my stepsister … well, I guess I’d have put two and two together by now. Let’s just say that maths has never been my strong point.

  If Shay likes me the way I like him … it’s like my best dream and my worst nightmare all rolled into one. Only right now, from the sick feeling that’s churning up my stomach, I have a feeling the nightmare may come out on top.

  Honey’s eyes narrow and she tilts her chin up.

  ‘So, Cherry,’ she says coldly, ‘you were telling me a while ago about your boyfriend, back in Glasgow … and how much you were missing him. When is he coming down to see you then?’

  Shock jolts through me, and my heart starts to thump. Honey knows the boyfriend story was a lie, so why bring it up now?

  To punish me, of course. If you get on the wrong side of Honey Tanberry, you live to regret it. And how …

  ‘Boyfriend?’ Shay says, his face pale.

  ‘Boyfriend?’ Skye echoes. ‘You never told me …’

  ‘What was his name again, Cherry?’ Honey teases. ‘Scott, wasn’t it? I asked Paddy, and he said the only Scott he knew of was a speccy little lad who lived downstairs from you in the tenement who was always leaving Freddo bars for you, outside the door.’

  My cheeks are burning.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I stutter. ‘Scott Pickles is only seven …’

  ‘That sounds about right,’ Honey smirks.

  ‘I think it’s a mix-up,’ I tell Honey. ‘I might have mentioned Scott, and perhaps you … um … somehow got the wrong impression …’

  ‘Perhaps,’ she agrees, her voice cool and clear. ‘Like when you told me about your luxury penthouse apartment overlooking the Clyde. That turned out to be a titchy tenement flat, which isn’t quite the same thing really. And when you mentioned your friends back home and how they’d miss you and be down to visit any moment, which is weird, because as far as I know there hasn’t been one phone call, one letter, one single text message from any of them …’

  She pauses for effect.

  ‘As for Paddy’s top management job … well, we all know he used to pick out the reject chocolate bars on the factory production line. You’re quite good at giving the wrong impression, aren’t you, Cherry?’

  Skye and Summer and Coco are staring at me, surprised and faintly embarrassed, but that’s nothing compared to how I feel. If I had the courage, I would stand up now, grab Shay’s stolen canoe, paddle out towards the horizon and never, ever come back.

  I open my mouth to argue, to defend myself, but nothing at all comes out.

  ‘Have you finished, Honey?’ Shay says into the silence. ‘Or have you got any other nasty, spiteful stuff to share?’

  ‘She’s a liar!’ Honey snarls. ‘Don’t you get it, any of you? She’s a liar and a cheat and a phoney. She’s lied to every single one of you, taken you all in with her stupid stories, can’t you see? Don’t you care?’

  ‘Just leave it,’ Skye tells her sister.

  ‘You’re out of order,’ Summer says.

  ‘Stop it,’ Coco adds, her lip quivering.

  ‘Are you all stupid?’ Honey hisses. ‘Can’t you see what I’m telling you?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ I protest, but of course, it was exactly like that. I have twisted the truth to make myself look better, to try to fit in.

  ‘So … you didn’t really have a boyfriend back home?’ Coco asks. ‘Or loads of friends, or a posh apartment?’

  ‘You never did ballet, either, did you?’ Summer says. ‘I knew that wasn’t right.’

  ‘I wanted to fit in,’ I sigh. ‘I thought you’d like me better if you thought I was … well, a bit more interesting.’

  ‘We liked you anyway,’ Skye says quietly. ‘You didn’t need to make stuff up.’

  Shay sighs. ‘Sometimes, people make mistakes,’ he says softly. ‘They dream so much they get the dreams mixed up with reality. Cherry didn’t mean any harm.’

  Honey laughs, a sad, harsh sound.

  ‘You think she’s so great, don’t you, Shay?’ she says disgustedly. ‘She’s really got you fooled. How come you’re getting so wound up about Cherry anyway? How come you’re defending her? She’s not your girlfriend, Shay, or have you forgotten that?’

  Shay looks away, and that’s when the last shreds of hope die in Honey’s eyes. She looks at me and she looks at Shay and the final pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

  She turns to her sisters. ‘You know what’s been bothering me?’ she asks. ‘It’s finding out that my so-called boyfriend has been staying out till one or two in the morning. He hasn’t been with me till that time, so where was he? I’ll tell you, shall I? Hanging out with Little Miss Perfect here. Am I right, Cherry? Shay?’

  I cannot meet her eyes, and that’s all the admission of guilt Honey needs.

  ‘Whoa,’ Coco breathes.

  ‘No way,’ Summer says.

  Skye looks alarmed. ‘She wouldn’t,’ she says. ‘Tell her, Cherry. It’s a mistake, right?’

  I hang my head, silent, ashamed.

  ‘It wasn’t like that!’ Shay snaps. ‘We’re just friends!’

  Honey’s eyes flash with anger. ‘Shut up, Shay,’ she says. ‘Haven’t you done enough?’

  She snatches up Shay’s mug of Irn-Bru, hand shaking, swinging it upwards towards his face. I reach out to grab her hand, but all I do is knock her off course, and a perfect arc of orange fizz flies right into my face, cold and sweet and shocking. I cough and splutter and hide my face in my hands.

  I think of Kirsty McRae with macaroni cheese sliding down her face, and I want to cry.

  Honey looks stricken for about
a split second. ‘You idiot! You made me do that! And I get all the blame, which is just the way you planned it …’

  And then her hand flies up and slaps my cheek, and I gasp with the shock and the sting of it, and my eyes well with tears.

  ‘I hate you, Cherry Costello,’ Honey yells, ‘you’ve been trying to push me out since the minute you got here. You nearly managed it too … As for you, Shay Fletcher, get out of my life. I don’t need you, and I don’t want you.’

  She looks around, her blue eyes flashing. ‘It doesn’t much matter now, I suppose, but I wasn’t just planning to go up to Dad’s for a visit. I was going to stay. For good. I’m obviously not wanted here … by any of you. Typical, though, even that has fallen flat. Lucky me, huh?’

  She jumps up, dragging off her fairy wings and throwing them down on the sand. Coco is crying now, and Summer and Skye are hanging on to their big sister’s arms, telling her to wait, to calm down, to listen. They tell her that they love her, that nobody could ever push her out, or replace her, that they’d die if she left Tanglewood to live in London.

  Honey isn’t listening to anyone. She breaks free and runs towards the cliff path, the house, her sisters close behind. Poor Fred bounds after them, barking and whining.

  Shay picks up a beach towel and dabs my face, wiping the sticky drips from my cheek. ‘Are you OK?’ he asks.

  I nod, but I am not OK. I am not sure I will ever be OK again.

  ‘Look … I’d better go after her,’ Shay says. ‘She’s obviously hysterical …’

  Humiliation sticks in my throat, sharp and painful, and it’s all my own fault.

  I watch Shay climb the cliff path, pausing at the last minute to look back over his shoulder, frowning.

  ‘It’ll all work out, Cherry,’ he says. ‘I promise.’

  And that’s when I know Shay is a liar too.

  27

  Some people never learn.

  I told myself I would stop the lies, yet still they slid off my tongue like syrup, sweet and sticky, seeping everywhere. All I wanted was to fit in, but the lies backfired, just like always, and ruined everything.