‘This is Marek, my cousin.’ Gabe seems to be telling everyone this bit. ‘He’s over from Warsaw for the week – his mum’s working at the university.’ I look up again, and Gabe is looking proudly at his cousin, still with his arm draped over his shoulder. Marek gives me a small, shy sort of smile, and I feel a bit better because he’s not the only one who feels awkward.
‘Marek, this is Jake and Tom –’ they both nod in greeting – ‘and you know Archie.’
Archie nods and says, ‘All right?’
‘I’m Anna,’ says Anna, smiling openly in that lovely straightforward way she has. I have no idea how she manages to make being a person look so uncomplicated.
‘And this is Grace.’ Gabe smiles directly at me, and for a second he catches my eye and it feels like it did when we were just on our own.
‘Hi,’ says Marek, and we all sort of stand there for a bit.
Sometimes I think it’s not just uniforms that school’s good for. It sort of makes sense of the social stuff too. When you’ve only got a fifteen-minute break between lessons, and lunch is from 12.30 until 1.15, and you’ve got to fit in queuing in the canteen and going to the loo in there too, there’s not enough time for things to get awkward. You sort of squish your interactions into little tiny chunks, and the classroom stuff is monitored by teachers (even if they’re hideous) and everything is ordered and easy to deal with. Put us in a situation like this where we have the whole afternoon to hang out at the park and do nothing, and we’re at a complete loss. We need someone to organize us with a game of rounders or some sort of wholesome activity. Otherwise we’ll spend the entire day wheeling around these benches making uncomfortable conversation about nothing and waiting for something to happen. That’s why the bikes are useful. At least when you’ve run out of things to say you’ve got a sort of prop handy, and something to do with your hands.
‘Gabe tells me you are big fan of Doctor Who?’
Marek balances on the edge of the bench beside me. His accent is lovely. He talks quietly, fiddling with a key ring he’s got in his hands. Unthinkingly I reach for the TARDIS key ring, which is now hanging from the zip on my purse. He sees it, and reaches out.
‘Can I see it?’
‘Sure.’
‘Cool,’ says Marek. ‘I would like one of these very much.’
Gabe looks across, seeing us talking. He’s chatting to Archie, but his face looks pleased to see that I am talking to Marek.
I grab desperately around in the air for something to talk about and land on Gallifrey. Not literally, unfortunately. That would be nice.
‘D’you think we’ll see River Song in the next series?’
Marek visibly relaxes, sitting back against the bench, folding his hands behind his head. It’s funny when I can see other people feeling what I’m feeling. I guess being dragged out to meet a load of strangers isn’t that pleasant for him, either.
‘Well, the nights on Darillium are twenty-four years long, so I think that perhaps we will.’
‘I hope so.’
I love River. I’d quite like to be her when I grow up.
I’m about to carry on talking when someone puts their hands over my eyes.
‘Guess who?’
Anna’s in front of me, talking with Archie and Gabe. The boys have set off for the skate park on their bikes.
‘No idea.’
The voice sounds familiar, but the vague getting-it-wrong panic makes my ears not work properly.
‘Guess!’ says the voice again, urgently. I squirm sideways to try to get out from the hands, and they let go as I turn round.
‘Could you really not get it from my voice?’
It’s Leah, who a) wouldn’t normally do something like that because she knows it would freak me out and b) doesn’t sound like herself because there’s a bit of an edge to her voice that isn’t normally there because she’s with Holly’s sister Lily and that gang again.
‘Where’s Megan?’ I ask automatically. I’m so used to Leah and Meg being inseparable in the holidays that it’s weird to see her hanging around with other people – especially when the other people are so hideous. I have no idea what Leah’s up to. Holly’s sister is a smaller, even pointier-faced, just as mean-looking version of her sister.
‘Not a clue. Why’d’you keep asking me that?’ Leah says cheerfully. ‘What you up to?’
‘Dunno,’ I say, looking at Marek, who checks the time on his watch.
‘I have to be back home by four,’ he says, shading his eyes from the sun as he peers across at Gabe. ‘Mama said she’s taking us out for pizza.’
I look at my phone to check the time. I don’t want to be late for Mabel this afternoon. I’m rubbish at getting out of situations. Sometimes I end up staying places for hours longer than I want to because I don’t know how to make my excuses and leave. I’m about to shove my phone back in my pocket when a text from Mum (festooned as always with poo emojis, because she discovered them about six months ago and thinks they’re the most entertaining thing ever) appears.
Darling are you around? I’ve left the key on the table and locked myself out.
Leah checks her phone at the same moment, then turns the screen around to show me. Same message.
‘I’ll go,’ I say, at exactly the same time that she says exactly the same thing.
Standing around for another hour feeling awkward while Anna admires Archie’s scooting technique isn’t really at the top of my things-to-do list. And Gabe being here is weird. It’s almost too much, this feeling of wanting to be near him. I keep looking to see where he is and catching his eye and realizing he’s looking at me. But we keep talking to other people instead, like we’re sort of skirting around each other.
Leah shakes her head. ‘I need to get back anyway. I’ve got training later.’ She hops on to the low wall, arms out to the side, pointing her toes.
I check with Anna in case – and I think it’s unlikely – she wants to head back across town now. But she’s wrapped up in Archie and it’s nice to see her smiley and having fun and frankly she’d probably be better off without me there being awkward, so when she says, ‘D’you want me to just come back now?’ with a sort of reluctant expression, I shake my head and tell her I’ll message her later when I get back from the stables.
‘Are you two heading back now?’ Gabe says, and looks across at Marek.
‘Yeah,’ says Leah casually – and I feel jealous that she doesn’t stumble over her words and get tongue-tied when she chats to Gabe. ‘Mum’s locked herself out.’
Marek raises an eyebrow in question at Gabe. ‘We need to be leaving soon, I think.’
‘Walk us along to the roundabout, then?’ Leah jumps off the wall, and shoves her phone back in her jeans pocket.
I’m almost sure she does it deliberately, but she hangs back, telling Marek to wait with her while she tells the girls she’s leaving, so Gabe and I end up walking along the path in front of them. And we walk along together for a bit before it almost feels too weird to be walking with our hands side by side without reaching out for his, because I can feel the heat from his arm radiating through to mine, so I stretch out a finger, tentatively, and another, and then – I hold his hand. And he gives me a sideways look and a smile and sort of swings my hand a bit in his, and we walk up to the roundabout with Leah and Marek tagging behind us.
‘You were holding hands,’ says Leah, with a little squeak. ‘It’s like actual loooove.’
‘It’s like actual nothing very much yet, thank you very much, and if you say anything to Mum I will literally kill you with my bare hands.’ I give her the Look of Death so she knows I’m serious.
Leah zips her mouth shut with her finger, her eyes wide open.
She notices the TARDIS key ring and takes it out of my hand. ‘Nice.’
‘It’s from Gabe,’ I say, and I feel a bit proud.
‘You need to get him something, Grace,’ says Leah, and it seems so obvious now that I can’t think why I didn’t
think of it. That’s what people do. They buy nice things for each other.
‘Anyway,’ says Leah, after a moment. ‘My lips are sealed.’
‘Yeah,’ I point out. ‘They better had be. If she finds out you’ve been down the amusements when it’s completely banned, you’ll be in the shit.’
‘Point taken.’ Leah nods, grinning.
It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve spent any time alone with her. We walk along the familiar road together, our feet on autopilot, past our old primary school. Inside the classroom, Mrs Bedgrove, our Year Three teacher, is sticking bright coloured letters to the window, even though it’s the holidays. She catches a glimpse of us and waves, smiling.
‘Why’s she working?’ Leah frowns, looking at me.
‘That’s what teachers do.’
‘In the holidays?’ Leah looks horrified.
‘Yeah. I read about it in one of those educational-supplement things Mum keeps leaving all over the kitchen table. They work all the holidays and in the evenings and they never get time off.’
‘Right,’ says Leah. ‘Why’s Mum wanting to go back to that, then?’
‘Dunno.’
‘Grandma’s not impressed.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, teasing. ‘Apparently I’m old enough to know what I’m doing now and you’re the responsible one so we don’t have to worry about what you’re up to.’
‘Right.’ Leah pulls a face that I can’t interpret. ‘As long as Mum thinks that, we’re sorted.’
I don’t really know what she means by that. I know that Mum’s still under the impression that Leah and Megan are best friends, and I suspect that if she had any idea her beloved youngest was hanging around with Holly’s sister and her gang, she’d be seriously unimpressed. Or would she? Now Grandma’s gone back to Kent, we’ll be back to living in chaos and Eve hanging out of the back door, leaving Marlboro Light fag ends all over the step. I shudder at the thought.
We walk for a while longer, past the dentist where Leah bit the nurse’s finger when she was five.
I run my hand along the bumpy wall and the smell of warm stones in the sunshine reminds me of being little again and holding Mum’s hand, stumping along in red shiny welly boots, jumping in puddles while Leah sat in her pushchair. I think of bobble-hatted Phoebe, our little duck-feeding friend. I miss life being that simple. Life was much easier when there was a hand to hold and you knew where everything was.
‘You having a nice non-birthday?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
Leah pulls a face. ‘I think you’re just hoping if you postpone it until Dad gets back you’ll get extra presents.’
Leah gets the birthday thing. It has to be the same every year: pizza, in the same restaurant, at the same table, with a silly hat and helium balloons, which we take home. It’s what I like. My idea of hell on earth would be a surprise birthday party. Every year I feel relieved when I get it out of the way and nothing hideous has happened.
‘Leah?’
It’s easier to talk when we’re walking side by side. I haven’t had a chance to speak to her in ages.
‘Mmm.’
‘D’you mind Mum going for this job?’
Leah and I used to talk much more before this last few months happened and everything started shifting under our feet. She was always in my room sitting on the bed, or I’d be in hers. She didn’t count as people, so she didn’t wear me out. She was just sort of part of the furniture, but since Dad went away this time everything seemed to change. Or maybe it’s because Eve has appeared and our little triangle of family has been broken.
‘Dunno.’ She cracks her chewing gum in a way that would give Grandma a blue fit. ‘Everything’s gone a bit – weird. I don’t like Eve. I keep hoping it’ll go back to normal once she’s gone.’
‘Me neither. It’s like she’s stolen Mum and given her a brain transplant.’
‘Zombie brain eater.’
‘Personality stealer.’
‘She’s worse than Holly Carmich–’ I begin, and stop myself almost as the words come out of my mouth. I don’t suppose Leah wants to hear me slagging off her new best friend’s big sister.
‘That’s basically what Grandma said,’ Leah says, and I don’t know whether she’s heard what I said and is agreeing, or is carrying on from before. ‘She told me yesterday morning that everything would go back to normal when Dad got home and Eve finished her contract, and went back to London.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Yeah.’
It doesn’t feel like that to me.
CHAPTER TWENTY
‘Ahh, look at that, both babies to my rescue!’ calls Mum over the garden wall, her shape blurry through the hedge.
I’ve got the keys in my hand and as I turn into the drive I’m waving them aloft, but my arm freezes in mid-air when I realize that Mum’s not alone. I turn to Leah, talking through clenched teeth.
‘Why is she here?’
‘No idea,’ says Leah. She juts her jaw slightly, and looks across the front garden at Eve.
‘We just popped out to have an afternoon glass of wine to celebrate,’ Mum begins.
‘Of course,’ says Leah to me under her breath.
Mum’s smile disappears and I can see Eve sizing us up as if she’s won something somehow, as if she thinks she’s got more right to Mum than we do.
‘I had some good news today from the supply teaching agency,’ Mum continues, her voice slightly strained. She’s in Let’s All Be Happy mode.
I paste a polite smile on my face. The truth is if I didn’t think Eve was behind all this – and I didn’t think it was because she was on some sort of mission to make Mum forget that we actually exist – I’d probably be pleased she was going back to work and getting out of our way, except I don’t really like things changing and, well, anyway. I’d be a bit pleased. Even if – with Dad AWOL half the time on his globetrotting expeditions – it would effectively leave us a bit lacking in the actual parent department.
Mum takes the keys from my hand and unlocks the front door. I give Eve a wide berth and skirt round her, scooping up a traitorous Withnail who was about to prowl through her legs in the hope of food.
‘Grace, honey. Let’s go out for something to eat to celebrate.’
I stop dead, standing in the porch as if my feet have been glued to the floor.
‘We’ll pop by the stables on the way, you can sort Mabel out quickly and we’ll wait in the car.’
‘What?’
‘It’s not every day your firstborn turns sixteen,’ Mum continues, her voice breezy and tight. She’s not leaving any spaces for me to object. ‘I know you don’t want to do anything for your birthday, but Eve thought we should all go out as we’ve got two things to celebrate . . .’
‘Happy birthday, Grace,’ says Eve. I don’t look at her, or reply.
‘I don’t want to go.’ I really, really don’t want to. What on earth is she doing? a) I don’t do last-minute changes of plan and b) I don’t deviate from my birthday routine. No, no, no. No thank you.
Leah pauses in the doorway with her finger on her lips, looking thoughtful. She clearly doesn’t want to go either – let’s face it, who would want to spend a night out with cow-face?
‘I’ve got training,’ she says, pulling her tennis shoes out from under the dresser.
I beam her a silent wave of gratitude.
‘You can miss one session,’ says Mum, pulling out her phone from her bag. ‘I’ll text Hazel and tell her you’re going out for your sister’s birthday. It’s not like you’re in the habit of skipping training.’
‘They won’t have enough people for doubles.’
‘Leah,’ says Mum, with the exact tone she usually uses on me, ‘I’m sure they’ll be fine.’
Leah puts the shoes down on top of the dresser, in a move designed to piss off Mum, who is weirdly superstitious about shoes-on-tables. Mum picks them up and holds them in her hand as she turns to me.
‘We can have
the same table as always,’ she says, trying to appease me. ‘And we can do your meal when your father gets back too.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘I’m not having any arguments. Eve’s been good enough to help me get an interview for this job, and we are bloody well going out to celebrate.’ She fixes me with a look.
‘I was going to ride Mabel.’
‘You rode her this morning.’
‘I was going to ride her again.’
‘Grace.’ The Look again. ‘We’ll pop by the stables on the way, sort Mabel out.’ She glances at Eve. ‘You don’t mind waiting, do you?’
Eve shakes her head.
What’s amazing is that through all this Eve is just standing there in the hall, not saying anything, just watching us. Not even pretending to avert her eyes and secretly eavesdrop (Eves-drop – ha), but she’s just standing there with that smug cat-like smirk on her face and her too tight skinny jeans and her super-shiny expensive handbag over one arm.
‘Why should I?’
I let Withnail down, reach into the dresser and pull out my yard boots. Then I sit down on the carpet where I am, and start pulling them on. I’ll just take the bus up now. There’s nothing she can do to stop me.
‘Because your mother’s worked hard for this, and you’re being rude and ungrateful,’ says Eve in her clear, low voice.
I shoot a look up at Leah, who is standing above me. It’s hard to argue your point coherently when you’re sitting on the carpet and all you can see is everyone else’s knees.
Leah flares her nostrils in a way that looks exactly like Mum and I swear she does the smallest shake of her head. No, I think it says, don’t make a fuss about this.
I haul myself up in my yard boots and stand, facing Eve, in the hall.
‘Fine,’ I say, but I glare at Eve with my absolute best death stare. She looks back at me like she’s a cobra or something else equally venomous and generally horrible and unfriendly. You’d think seeing as she’s friends with Mum she might make at least some effort not to hate me and Leah, but – apparently not.
The State of Grace Page 13
