I can’t answer. I swallow. Try to meet her eyes. I shake my head.
She fiddles with her car keys. ‘Well, she’s worked out that something’s wrong. And she’s imagining far worse.’
‘Worse?’
‘She said you came in drunk last night. She thinks you’re on drugs.’
‘I wish.’
‘Oh for God’s sake, Declan, don’t be so pathetic. You have her worried sick.’ Her voice is like a knife. ‘Look – I’m not stupid. What really happened? You didn’t just take Flight out for no reason, did you? Vicky won’t tell me anything. She just cries.’
I can’t answer. Can’t believe she’s saying his name out loud. I wish she would hit me or something.
She shakes her head. ‘You’ve done something stupid. Worse than stupid. But there’s no need to go round acting like this.’ She’s never sounded this angry, not even when I thumped Vicky. ‘You haven’t even asked how Vicky is, let alone Flight.’
‘Flight? But he’s …’ I can’t say the word.
‘He isn’t dead, Declan. Is that what you thought?’
I nod. Bite my lip as hard I can.
‘Oh, he may never recover. He could still be put down. We won’t know for months. But he’s alive.’ When she speaks again her voice is dead sad. ‘I can’t believe you just ran away, Declan. That’s the bit that really… You never even phoned.’
I stare at the ground, willing the tears behind my eyes to stay there. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yes, well.’ She doesn’t sound impressed. ‘It’s not me you need to apologise to. Look, I have to go.’
Two Rs in ‘sorry’, Kelly.
And I hear the car door slam.
Chapter 30
VICKY
Becca made friends first. She hunkered down beside me at the lockers and said, ‘Katie Maguire told Niamh what happened to Flight.’
I nodded. Concentrated on not crying. All week I’d only felt like I was half-here. The days had dragged and it was still only Thursday. ‘Should you not be in PE?’ I asked. Becca hated getting into trouble.
‘I was at the school nurse. Period pains. You?’
‘Just couldn’t face it.’ It was the first time I’d ever mitched class.
‘Is he going to be OK?’
‘We don’t know. He won’t die or anything, it’s not like that, but he … he might never be sound again.’
‘I don’t really know what that means,’ Becca admitted.
‘It means I might never be able to ride him again. He might be lame for life.’
‘Oh. But he won’t die?’
I sighed. ‘His injury won’t kill him. But if he … if he doesn’t get better … Well, no one wants to keep a lame horse.’
Her round face was shocked. ‘You mean – you couldn’t just keep him as a pet?’
‘I’d want to,’ I reassured her. ‘Course I would. But it costs a lot to keep a big horse like Flight. If I wanted another one I could ride – well, Dad wouldn’t pay for two.’
She grimaced. ‘But it hasn’t happened yet? I mean, he might be OK?’
‘Might be. We won’t know for ages – six months, maybe a year.’
‘Poor old Vicky.’ She moved closer to me and gave me a hug with one arm. ‘Look, babes, I’m sorry we fell out.’
‘Me too. I wanted to text you when it happened but I just … I don’t know … I didn’t want you to think I was, like, emotionally blackmailing you into making friends.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought that!’
‘Fliss would have.’
‘Not when she hears what’s happened. Was Rory good?’
I gave a dry little laugh. ‘He dumped me.’
‘He what?’ Her eyes widened.
Tears pricked the back of my own eyes. ‘Dumped me. He said … said…’
Becca tightened her arm round me. ‘How could he dump you just when you needed him?’
‘It wasn’t like that. I don’t blame him. Neither will you when I tell you what I did.’
‘What you did?’
So I told her. She was the first person I’d told. I knew Mum and Fiona both guessed I’d said something to Declan but I was too ashamed to tell them, especially after the way Rory reacted. Cam, though she’d been brilliant with Flight and texted me all the time to tell me how he was, was kind of distant, as if she guessed there was more to it than I was telling. But Becca and Fliss had already told me what they thought of my attitude to Declan. Becca could say told you so if she wanted. I was too miserable to care.
But she didn’t. She kept her arm round me and made comforting noises, and when I’d blurted out the whole story she gave me two tissues and said, ‘Poor old Vic. I bet you’d give anything not to have said it.’
‘Course I would! I … I can’t forgive him, Becs,’ I admitted. ‘Not after what he did. I’m mean, I’m sorry and I know it was partly my fault and I feel so guilty but every time I think about Flight lying in the road like that …’ I couldn’t go on.
‘I know.’ She squeezed my arm. ‘I don’t think anyone could expect you to forgive him just yet. But you will some day.’
‘I won’t.’
‘You will. And Vic? You really need to talk to your mum about this Brian.’
The bell made us both jump. ‘Chemistry,’ said Becca with a groan. ‘Can’t mitch that. You okay to come or shall I bring you to the nurse? I’m sure she’d let you lie down for an hour. You look awful.’
I was tempted for a moment. ‘No, it’s okay. But Becs, will you talk to Fliss for me? Tell her – you know, everything.’
‘Course I will. And look, let’s meet in Starbucks after school?’
‘The three of us? OK.’
* * *
Fliss slid into the bench beside me and Becca and set down two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and a Diet Coke. She wasn’t as easy to make friends with as Becca. Becca was all hugs and warmth and forgiveness but Fliss was tougher. Oh, she’d make friends properly and mean it, but she wouldn’t let you just forget about what she’d fallen out with you about in the first place.
‘I wonder how he feels about it,’ she said. ‘He must feel worse than you.’ It was more or less what Fiona had said.
‘It’s not his horse, though,’ I said. ‘I bet he is sorry – how could you not be? – but he just ran away, couldn’t even stay and face me.’
‘D’you blame him, though? I wouldn’t be able to face you if I’d wrecked your horse,’ said Fliss. ‘Remember when I broke your phone in Year Nine?’
‘Fliss! You can hardly compare them!’ said Becca before I could reply.
‘But the principle’s the same,’ insisted Fliss. ‘You were really nasty about that, Vic – no, I’m not casting up, honestly. I just mean you’re very …’ She thought for a moment, like she really wanted to get the right word. ‘Possessive, I suppose. That’s what I meant when I said about you being so jealous and that. You know the way you are with your dad having the new baby and that. And being so mean about Declan. And now your mum and this Brian.’
I stirred my hot chocolate with the wooden stick thing. I knew Fliss wasn’t saying all this just to be nasty but it was hard to listen to.
‘I don’t like my mum having boyfriends, you know,’ she went on. ‘I know I always make a joke of it but I used to wish my mum was like yours, that she stayed in and focused on me all the time. But I suppose they deserve a life too.’
‘Yeah.’ Becca joined in. ‘I used to be really jealous of you and your mum too, Vic. Like, whatever you do, your mum thinks you’re great. OK, so she’s a bit annoyed with you at the minute, but you know what I mean. I’m never going to be good enough for my mum – if I get As she wants A stars; if I come second in a test, why wasn’t it first? I feel like I’ll never be clever enough, thin enough, pretty enough –’
‘Becs!’
She waved away my sympathy. ‘No, this isn’t about me; I just wanted to remind you, you’re pretty lucky.’
It was what Mum was al
ways trying to tell me. And Rory, saying I was a bit of a princess.
Fliss rubbed my arm and made me smile at her. ‘Vic, babes, don’t get all sulky. You’re our friend. If your friends can’t tell you the truth, who can?’
‘I know.’ My voice was very small. ‘I just feel like I’ve lost everything. Flight and Rory and –’
‘You haven’t lost us.’
‘I could have, though.’
‘But Vicky, you need to ask your mum about Brian,’ said Fliss. ‘You can’t just keep putting it off. I bet you’re being all huffy with her and she doesn’t even know why.’
‘OK.’ I ran my finger round the inside of my mug to cream off the froth. ‘I’ll ask her tonight.’
* * *
I stared at the receipt. Carphone Warehouse. £39.99. Mum hadn’t got herself a new phone, had she? No, she’d said she’d wait for my old one which I was going to give her after Christmas when I got my iPhone from Dad. So what was this all about? She hadn’t forgotten about Dad’s present and got me a phone herself, had she? I hoped not – not a forty quid one!
Mum came into the kitchen. ‘Vicky? What are you doing? I asked you to get me my purse, not analyse the contents of my bag!’
I held out the receipt. ‘It was just – I hoped you hadn’t got me a phone. Because dad’s getting me an iPhone. Remember?’
She took the receipt off me and sighed. ‘Don’t worry. I know you wouldn’t thank me for it. It was a Christmas present.’
‘Oh. Who for?’ Then I knew. ‘Mum! How could you?’
She sat down opposite me at the table. ‘I got it a while ago. I wasn’t sure what to do with it; it seemed a bit mean not to give it to him.’
Despite all my good intentions and the pep talk from Fliss and Becca I couldn’t help my eyes flooding with tears at the injustice. ‘It was a bit mean for him to nearly kill my horse!’
‘I know.’ She rolled the receipt up in her hands and started playing with it. ‘Look, I don’t know if I did the right thing. It just seemed … petty or something not to.’
‘You mean…?’ Gradually I took in what she was trying to tell me. ‘You gave it to him? You’ve seen him?’
Mum pinched the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache. ‘This afternoon.’
‘Did he say anything?’ I didn’t know why I was asking. Like anything he said could make a difference now.
‘He said sorry. I didn’t make it easy for him, you know, Vic. I think he realises how serious it is. He seemed to think Flight was dead.’
I shuddered. ‘Well, if he was so worried why didn’t he get in touch?’
‘I asked that.’
‘And Mum, he doesn’t know how serious it is! Flight may never be sound. We don’t have a full team for Saturday. That driver’s suing Dad because his car’s a write-off.’ Tears burned my cheeks. Again.
‘I told him he’d have to apologise to you.’
‘Well, he needn’t waste his breath.’
‘Do you really mean that?’
‘I don’t know!’ I sobbed. ‘I’m just … it’s all so mixed up.’
She stroked my hair. ‘Vicky – I think he’s pretty cut up about it. I mean, if that makes you feel any better. He hasn’t told his mum – I suppose he’s scared of worrying her, you know she’s a bit fragile – and I got the impression he was bottling it all up. At least you aren’t doing that.’
I tried to laugh and gave a big snottery gulp. ‘That’s true.’ Then I thought of the things I was bottling up. I wasn’t ready to tell her what I’d said to him. But the other thing… ‘Mum,’ I said, looking her in the eye. ‘Why did you tell him about Brian? And not me?’
For a second the disbelief on her face made me think she was going to say, ‘Brian? What on earth are you talking about? There is no Brian.’ But she didn’t. She just looked puzzled. Maybe a bit guilty.
‘I didn’t tell him about Brian,’ she said slowly. ‘I told Theresa. I suppose she must have told him. It wasn’t a secret.’
‘It was from me!’
‘Oh Vicky, I’m sorry. I was waiting for the right moment. And then with the accident – it just seemed too much for you to cope with.’
‘But you told her!’
‘Do you not tell Fliss and Becca things you don’t tell me?’
‘Yeah, but –’
‘It’s the same thing. Well, partly it was to have something to talk about. Theresa can be pretty hard work. But it was more…’ She sighed. ‘No, you’re right, I should have told you. But it was only a date at first. I didn’t know if it was going to lead to anything. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it for no reason.’
‘Mum! Even having a date is a big deal for you.’
She gave a dry sort of laugh. ‘You know, Vic, you’ve had it easy. Dad left me for Fiona. He’s still with her and you like her. I’ve never had a boyfriend since your dad. Not even a date, until now. You’ve never had to deal with any of that. How many boyfriends has Fliss’s mum had?’
‘But at least Fliss’s mum tells her!’
Mum just tore on as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘And I’ve lost count of the men Theresa’s had. Some of them, from what your gran used to tell me, pretty unpleasant. But I have always put you first.’ She was starting to sound quite fierce. ‘And you know what, Vic? I’m lonely. I’m fed up being on my own every weekend. I’m only thirty-six, for God’s sake. And I’d like to meet somebody while I still can.’
‘So, what about this Brian, then?’
‘He’s a lecturer. I met him at the Open Libraries Festival. He was doing a talk on Seamus Heaney. We got chatting. He’s forty-two. Divorced.’
My voice scrambled in my throat. ‘Has he got kids?’
‘No.’
‘I suppose that’s something.’
‘Oh Vic!’ She laughed. ‘We’ve only been out a few times. I’m not about to move in with him.’
‘I should hope not!’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. And I’m really sorry you found out from Declan. That must have been hard.’
‘It’s OK.’ I didn’t want to go too far down this road.
‘So, can we just relax and have a lovely Christmas, like we always do?’
‘Yes.’ I gave her a quick hug. ‘Do I ever get to meet him?’
She smiled. ‘Let’s take it a day at a time. But if we’re still seeing each other in the New Year, then yes, of course.’
‘Mum, it’s Christmas next week; course you’ll still be seeing him in the New Year! You need to be more positive!’
‘And you start being a bit more positive about Flight, OK? Remember what your gran used to say – if you visualise something, you could make it happen. You just visualise jumping Flight over those big fences that scare me.’
I thought of Flight standing at the back of his stable, resting his bandaged leg, eyes dull with pain and boredom. ‘I’ll try,’ I promised.
Chapter 31
DECLAN
I lean over the sofa to hug Mum and drop the wee box into her lap. ‘Merry Christmas, Mum.’
She looks at the necklace and smiles up at me. ‘Och, son, that’s lovely. Here – put it on for me.’ She holds her hair away from her neck while I fasten the chain. It’s an angel – silver with a tiny gold halo. Well, maybe not real gold – it was £15.99 in Argos.
‘It’s a guardian angel,’ I tell her. Then I think this sounds dead gay. ‘I mean, you know, like a good luck thing.’
She pulls it away from her neck to look at it. ‘It’s gorgeous.’
She’s trying so hard. She’s cooked a proper Christmas dinner and everything. She went to the Spar herself to get the stuff. Yesterday she even went over to give Mrs Mulholland a Christmas card and stayed for ages talking to Mairéad.
I’m trying hard too. Colette made me feel so crap the other day. Don’t be so pathetic. She’s imagining far worse. So no more wandering the streets. No more drinking. I stay in and watch her and try to act normal. Oh, it’s all still there �
�� the road, the car, the blood – but sometimes for a few minutes at a time, I can forget about it. In the mornings, for the first few seconds, it’s like it never happened. But it always comes back.
Mum’s present is an iPod. ‘I know that’s what all you young fellows want,’ she says. I don’t think she knows you need a computer to use it. ‘Don’t forget Colette’s,’ she says, handing me a rectangular package.
It’s a mobile. Nothing flashy, but it’s slim and black with a camera. She must have remembered that I didn’t have one. She must have bought it Before.
‘I’ll do the dishes, Mum. You stay here and watch TV.’ Doing the dishes is a good excuse to get away. Even if it’s only as far as the kitchen.
Mum’s been cleaning like a demon on and off since she got home but now the kitchen looks like someone’s made a feast for twenty, not a dinner for two. Colette did proper cooking like this every night, but her kitchen never looked like this. Neither did Gran’s when she used to do Christmas dinner for the three of us. This is a dead mean thought so to make up for it I give everything a really good scrub and put all the dishes away. Usually I just let them drip. The tin she did the chicken in – where does that go? I remember seeing it in the top cupboard. This is the cupboard I never used to be able to reach, but when Colette and I were cleaning in here and she got me wiping out the cupboards I noticed I could. God! Why does everything make me think about Colette?
I lift the tin and slide it in. Right to the back. It hits something hard and clinks. I stand on tiptoes and try to move the other dish out of the way.
Only it isn’t a dish. It’s a bottle of vodka.
I stand back down normally and breathe out slowly. It can’t be. It must have been there before. But Colette and I cleaned out that cupboard.
Well then, it’s just … Maybe she just likes to know it’s there. Doesn’t mean she’s been at it.
But it’s half empty.
I stack the other dishes away. Wipe the surfaces. Put the leftovers in the fridge.
Not thinking about the bottle of vodka totally wins out over not thinking about Flight.
‘Declan? Have you fallen asleep in there? What about a wee cup of tea?’ She sounds so normal. She’s been so normal. Well, not normal for her. But normal like a normal person.
Taking Flight Page 18
