‘Hey, Elle . . .’
I carry on walking.
‘I saw you and Grace with your mum this morning,’ she says. ‘Your real mum, that is.’
My heart misses a beat. I look round and see a triumphant smile appearing on her face, and realise she’s uncovered another of my lies.
For a few seconds I’m lost for words but I know I’ve got to do something – something to stop her ruining everything.
I hurry into the hall where Abs, Freya and Ruby are sitting on the edge of the stage, waiting for me.
‘What’s the matter?’ asks Ruby aghast. ‘You look really upset!’
I glance back at Cait who’s followed me into the hall.
I’m panicking inside now.
‘It’s . . . it’s just . . . Cait. . .’ I blurt out. I quickly stare at the floor so I can avoid their eyes. But I can’t avoid hearing Dad’s voice inside my head.
‘You could act up for England,’ he sneers.
‘Has she been saying stuff again?’ asks Abs.
‘What’s she said now?’
I take a deep breath then spit out the words.
‘Something. . . about my Mum. . .’
‘What?’
I bite my lip. ‘I don’t want to talk about it!’
And I really don’t. What a performance. I think bitterly.
I turn my back on Cait. Abs, Freya and Ruby immediately do the same.
Well done, Drama Queenie. Result.
Cait looks like she’s coming over, so now we deliberately cross to the other side of the hall, blanking her and making her look silly as she stands on her own. Freya and Ruby giggle. I dart a glance at Cait. She shoots it back, daggers drawn, and I know this is how it’s going to be from now on.
War.
Chapter 42
Grace
Ryan is definitely avoiding me. But not just me. He’s avoiding everyone. Kev and Darren want to know what’s going on. We haven’t rehearsed for days and Kev’s pleading with me to talk to Ryan. With a nod I promise him I’ll try, but at break Miss Turner keeps me behind to finish some work, so I don’t get the chance. After break, in maths, neither Ryan nor PJ turn up. I look around the room puzzled. There’s a weird atmosphere in here, like someone’s shaken up a giant bottle of cola and it’s fizzing everywhere.
‘OK, where’s Baxter and Jacobs?’ Mr Harris asks, his bushy eyebrows scanning the class.
‘Head’s office,’ calls Daisy Millar. ‘They had a massive fight at break.’
I look up alarmed.
‘Oh, marvellous,’ sighs Hairy Harris.
‘Yeah, it was brilliant, sir,’ shouts Darren excitedly. ‘And when Ryan smacked PJ in the mouth – blood everywhere!’
‘Spare me the details, Darren,’ replies Mr Harris, rolling his eyes. ‘Right, settle down everyone, the excitement’s over. Open your books, page two-three-four. Let’s move on to the slightly less violent delights of algebraic equations.’
There’s a groan from some of the class.
I look down at my textbook but the numbers and letters are swimming around on the page. I try to breathe slowly, to list something – anything – to calm me down, but it’s no good. My stomach’s churning as the image of Dad, angrily hitting Mum in the face with the full force of his fist, the night before we left home, explodes into my mind.
I clamp my hand to my mouth, leap up and dash towards the classroom door.
‘Grace, are you all right?’ Mr Harris asks.
I manage to shake my head before running to the girls’ loos.
I batter my way into a cubicle, lean over the toilet and promptly throw up.
Chapter 43
Ellie
Everyone’s talking about the fight – everyone except Cait who’s keeping really quiet. No one’s seen Ryan or PJ since break and there’s a rumour going round that they’ve both been sent home and expelled, but then Grace and I see them coming out of the Head’s office when the bell goes for the end of school.
When Grace sees Ryan she freezes, then turns around and quickly starts walking off in the opposite direction.
‘Aren’t you going to speak to him?’ I ask, following her down the corridor.
She doesn’t reply.
‘Grace?’
‘I can’t talk to someone who hits people,’ she says.
‘But what about the band? Beachfest is in a few weeks.’
She shakes her head. ‘I’m going home.’
She walks off and leaves me standing. I glance at Ryan, who watches Grace hurry away. He pulls a face then turns and heads off in the opposite direction.
In rehearsals, Cait keeps away from everyone, except for when she’s on stage and playing her part. But there’s something different about her too – something weird, like she’s acting even when she’s not on stage.
‘What’s going on?’ I whisper.
‘She’s heartbroken,’ says Freya sarcastically.
‘PJ’s been suspended for two weeks,’ Abs tells me. ‘And Ryan.’
‘But what were they fighting about?’ I ask.
‘Daisy Millar saw PJ twisting Cait’s arm behind her back. Ryan told him to pack it in, PJ went ballistic, lashed out and it all kicked off.’
‘Then, can you believe it, Cait told Turner that PJ wasn’t hurting her and he was just mucking about!’ interrupts Ruby.
Poor Ryan, I think – I’ve got to tell Grace the full story as soon as I get home.
When the rehearsal’s over, I rush back to the caravan, but Grace isn’t there. Or Bruno. Realising she must have taken him for a walk, I head down to the beach but there’s no sign of them there either. I run back to the caravan and I’m about to go inside when I suddenly get the strangest feeling that she’s with the Maids. I hurry along the path and spot her, sitting like a statue in the middle of the stone circle, with Bruno nearby.
‘Grace!’ I call, ‘it wasn’t his fault!’
She looks up and stares back at me surprised, as I start to explain what happened at the fight.
‘But why would Cait say they were just messing about if PJ was really hurting her?’ she asks.
‘Why do you think?’ I say, astounded that someone who was supposed to be such a mega genius, could be so completely stupid. ‘Why did Mum always pretend everything was OK?’
Grace pulls a face and stands up.
‘I’ve got to talk to Ryan,’ she says.
She hands me Bruno’s lead and walks off.
Chapter 44
Grace
I hurry down into town to Ryan’s house near the market square and knock on the door. I wait on the step for ages till finally I hear someone coming. Ryan’s dad opens the door then slumps back in his wheelchair as if exhausted with the effort.
‘He’s not here, Grace,’ he tells me, gasping in between each word. There are dark rings under his eyes.
I stand on the step, awkward and unsure what to do next.
‘Mum!’ I hear one of the twins call. It’s Tom. He comes rushing down the hall but stops, disappointed when he sees me. His dad puts his arm around him as the small boy climbs onto his lap.
‘It wasn’t Ryan’s fault, the fight, I mean . . .’ I begin to explain.
‘It’s all right. I know my boy better than he knows himself. He does the right thing.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Up at Seal Point, I expect. He’ll be back in a while. Come in and wait if you like.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, ‘but I think I’ll go and find him.’
‘Tell him what I said,’ his dad says, looking me straight in the eye. ‘Tell him I know he does the right thing.’
I nod, then head off taking the cliff path, where I find Ryan sitting on the grass staring out to sea.
He smiles when he sees me but his eyes are sad. Trembling, I sit down next to him. The cliff edge doesn’t seem so scary now.
‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur. ‘Ellie told me about Cait and PJ.’
He shrugs. ‘History.’
> ‘You went to help her. I didn’t know.’
‘Couldn’t exactly stand by and watch him pull her arm off.’ He sighs. ‘Better get home,’ he says. ‘Dad’s not up to cooking.’
‘It’s only two weeks. You’ll be back at school soon,’ I tell him. ‘Everything’ll be back to normal.’
‘No, everything’s changed.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m not going back.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll be living in Scotland.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The twins and me. We’re going to live with Mum.’
‘But . . . but what about your dad?’
‘He wants us to go. Won’t take no for an answer. He’s arranged for a carer to come in to help. Says it’s for the best. Says he won’t have us seeing him going downhill. He’s going into hospital in a couple of days. They’re going to pump him full of steroids.’
Ryan’s quiet for a moment. I reach for his hand and hold it tight.
‘He’ll be OK,’ I say.
‘Maybe. He’s been this bad before.’
‘And he got better?’
‘For a while.’
‘When are you going?’ I ask, my whole world falling apart as if the cliff in front of us was dissolving into the sea below.
‘Tomorrow.’ There’s a tremor in his voice. ‘Grace, what do I do?’
My heart is breaking. I want to tell him to stay.
‘Your dad said . . . he said . . . you do the right thing.’
‘I don’t want to leave him. I don’t care how bad he gets. He’s my dad.’
‘Then stay.’
‘But what about Harry and Tom? Mum walked out when they were less than a year old. ’ He stops and shakes his head. ‘They’re going to need me too. They think living at Mum’s is going to be one big holiday. They’re already talking about hunting the Loch Ness Monster. She’s got a two-bedroom flat in the middle of Glasgow.’
‘Can’t you talk to her?’
‘Tried, last week. She’s not the listening sort.’ He looks at me. ‘And then there’s you, Grace. You’re the best thing that’s come into my life. I’m going to lose you too.’
Chapter 45
Ellie
Grace doesn’t say anything when she comes back.
‘Did you find him?’ I ask.
She nods.
‘That’s good. So everything’s OK then.’
She doesn’t reply. She runs into our little bedroom, throws herself on the bunk and starts sobbing.
‘Grace! What’s wrong?’
I’m totally shocked. I’ve never heard her cry like this. Come to think of it, I’ve never even heard her cry before. Grace doesn’t do tears. She certainly doesn’t do noisy, unrestrained sobbing. Grace keeps calm and carries on. Always.
‘What is it?’ I plead. ‘What’s happened?’
‘He’s going away!’ she whispers. ‘Oh, Ellie!’
I hug her tightly and say all the reassuring things I can think of. Things she’s said to me again and again in the past, when it’s been the end of my world. It’s ages before she manages to explain that Ryan’s going to live with his mum in Scotland.
I rack my brains for something to make her feel better.
‘You’ll see him again,’ I say brightly. ‘Course you will . . .’ Suddenly I’m inspired. ‘Hey, what about Gran and Grandad? They met by chance – a chance in a million – and then they had to go their separate ways. It only took them . . . five years to get back together. And Scotland’s less than six hundred miles away and —’
Grace sobs louder and I get the feeling I’m not doing this right. I give it one last shot.
‘Grace, it’s going to be OK!’ I say, wondering whether I should waft smelling salts under her nose like they do in those old black and white films on telly. But we’re all out of salts, smelling, cooking, bath or anything else.
‘Gracie, listen! I know it’s going to be OK!’ I insist.
Shocked at the fierceness in my voice, she looks up at me, her eyes red and her face so puffy it doesn’t even look like hers any more.
‘You’ve just got to trust!’ I tell her firmly, sticking my chin out and doing the stiff upper lip thing. Her face crumples.
‘But. . . I don’t know how to . . .’ she replies, then starts sobbing again.
I’m well out of my depth. I don’t know what to do now.
When Mum gets home, she takes over. By bedtime Grace is quiet, the sort of quiet that comes when you’re all cried out.
In the morning we walk to school but she doesn’t talk to me other than to reply ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when I ask her something. I feel sorry for her at break and lunchtime – she sits on her own but shakes her head when I ask her to come and sit with me and my mates. She hardly eats a thing. And that’s how it goes day after day.
After two weeks PJ comes back to school, and Cait hangs around with him again. Grace avoids him like the plague. She avoids everyone like the plague. Even me. She’s still really quiet all the time, but she doesn’t cry herself to sleep at night any more. Mum’s worried she’s not eating properly and brings home treats from the café to try and tempt her. My school trousers are really tight now.
And I’m too scared to ask her if she’s heard from Ryan.
Chapter 46
Grace
They say you can get used to anything in time. But how much time? It’s been over two weeks now since Ryan left. I’ve never felt anything like this horrible, hollow ache inside me. I check Mum’s mobile every day in case he’s texted or left a message.
Nothing.
It will get easier, I tell myself. It must. I just have to stop thinking about him and concentrate on other things. So I try. I really do. I make lists. Of anything and everything. Top ten songs, artists, ambitions – bottom ten teachers, phobias, bad habits. I make lists of my lists. I sew. I unpick and re-sew. I play my violin till my fingers are raw. I keep my head down at school, and after school today, bored and lonely, I creep into the hall to watch Ellie’s rehearsal for the first time.
And I’m amazed at how good my little sister actually is. Dad’s label of Drama Queen was totally perfect but not in the way he ever meant. Up on stage she shines, standing out from the other actors, even Cait, who’s good, but not half as talented as Ellie.
I’m still not sure what’s going on between the two of them but now I see them together, it’s obvious they’re at war off stage as well as on.
At our last school, a group of girls used to gang up on me because I was different, an easy target. I didn’t ever talk back, let alone fight back. I figured they’d get bored with no reaction and fortunately, after a couple of miserable months, I was right. They worked in a pack and their leader was a pretty doll-faced girl called Jessica Stribly, who had blond curly hair neatly tied up in a ponytail, a dainty up-turned nose and blue eyes with long lashes. She had convinced most adults that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth and spent the best part of two terms clawing her way to the top of the pecking order in our class.
By the time Ellie and I left, she didn’t even have to say or do anything horrible, just the roll of her eye or a quiet dismissive tut was enough for her followers to do her dirty work, elbowing other girls accidentally on purpose, or firing taunts sharp enough to cut to the bone.
Even the hangers-on, the nice girls, got sucked in and fell under Jessica’s spell. She was the one who decided who was to be spoken to, who was to be shunned and who was to be stabbed in the back. Sometimes she chose her victims logically – getting her revenge on girls who’d annoyed her – but occasionally her targets were totally random. She went after her scalps with the same dedicated passion other girls went shopping for shoes. And now, looking at my little sister, I’m alarmed to see that same cold, calculating look in her eye.
Somehow, over the last few weeks, while I’ve been lost in my own world missing Ryan, Ellie has climbed right to the top of the pack. Just like Jessica
, she’s the centre of attention, exactly where she’s always wanted to be. She has a whole gang of followers. One has dyed her hair the same colour and another knots her tie exactly how Ellie does hers. All of them hang on her every word while Cait looks on from a distance.
When Ellie sees me she waves and comes over.
‘We’re trying on costumes now,’ she tells me, like she’s in charge or something. ‘Why don’t you hang around?’
Right on cue Mrs Mulligan appears with a huge pile of clothes in her arms. There’s a flurry of excitement as she dishes out long flowing dresses, frilly shirts, weird hats and something she calls ‘gentlemen’s breeches’. She banishes the boys to a classroom opposite the hall so the girls can start getting changed. Seeing another pair of hands, she enlists my help and I spend the next few minutes wrestling Ellie into a beautiful silver brocade gown.
Cait eyes her jealously. ‘Mrs Mulligan, I am supposed to be the Lady of the Manor,’ she complains. ‘This dress is totally rank.’
‘Just put it on for now, Caitlin. Perhaps we can alter it if the fit’s not very good,’ Mrs Mulligan tells her as she hurries out of the hall to check on the boys.
‘Let’s face it, some people’s bum would look big in anything!’ Ellie quips loudly, eyeing Cait.
One of her friends lets out a snort of laughter.
‘Oh this is rank!’ the girl wails, imitating Cait.
‘Quick, give her the elephant bum dress!’ another girl calls.
‘Can’t – the elephant’s already wearing it . . .’
‘Why don’t you all just shut up?’ Cait snaps, but her outburst just provokes more laughter. I glare at Ellie but she shrugs back at me.
‘It’s all right, Grace,’ she announces in an even louder voice, ‘I’m not the only drama queen around here.’
The Summer of Telling Tales Page 14
