‘I’m sorry, Grace.’
‘He would have found us anyway.’
‘Do you think?’
‘Course,’ she mumbles. ‘How’s your arm?’
I roll up my sleeve and see a massive bruise coming up. The skin around it is red and feels sore where the tea scalded me.
‘He can’t make me go,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll run away or something but I’m not going back with him.’
‘But what about Mum?’ Grace asks, looking at me fearfully. I give a long deep sigh. We both know running away is not an option.
Throughout the night I have horrible dreams about Dad, and keep hearing his voice, low and threatening. At one point I wake with a jolt, sure that I’ve heard a stifled yell. I listen hard, but the sound of my own heart pounding is all I can hear before I drift back to sleep again.
In the morning Mum wakes us both. Her eyes are dull but her voice is artificially cheerful.
‘Come on, you’ll be late for school.’
‘Mum —’
‘Please, Ellie,’ she whispers, wincing in pain and slowly moving her elbow closer to her ribs.
‘What’s wrong?’ asks Grace.
‘Nothing. I’m fine,’ she replies with a forced smile and we both know he’s hurt her.
‘Don’t say anything about your dad today, will you?’ she begs in a chilling whisper, exactly like she used to.
‘But —’
‘It’ll make things worse, Ellie. Promise me.’
‘Where’s the quilt?’ Grace mouths suddenly with a look of panic on her face.
‘It’s OK, I’ve hidden it,’ Mum whispers back.
‘We can’t just disappear,’ I say. ‘What about the café?’
‘It’s my day off today. But I’ll ring Stan, tell him . . . something.’
‘We don’t want to leave you here on your own,’ Ellie whispers.
‘I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.’
Dad appears in the doorway behind her.
‘Course she’ll be all right,’ he says. ‘As long as you don’t go telling any silly tales,’ he threatens, glaring at me.
We set off for school in silence. As we walk through the circle of stones, I give a little shiver. It seems weird that after today we might never see them again. Our old life, a horrible distant memory, is going to become real again soon, and everything here will be just a wonderful but faraway dream. The hopelessness of it all sinks in. Grace, Mum and I have stopped dancing and are being turned back to stone.
My costume sits folded in the bottom of my school bag. Grace obviously didn’t work on it last night, but it doesn’t matter now because I won’t be wearing it next week. I also tucked my purple patterned notebook into my bag with the rest of my school stuff, scared that Dad might go poking around my things, find it and read it. I couldn’t risk that – he’d go ballistic.
‘What are you going to tell Ryan?’ I ask Grace as we reach the school gates. She shrugs her shoulders and doesn’t reply. We go our separate ways.
In class, everyone’s excited about Beachfest tonight and Abs and Ruby make complicated plans about what they’re going to wear and where they’ll meet me. I nod, not having the heart to tell them I won’t be there. I can’t bear to think how Grace is feeling right now.
At the dress rehearsal during the lunch hour, I forget my lines three times and Mad Mulligan throws a wobbly. She’s also disappointed that Grace hasn’t managed to do anything with my costume.
‘Something came up last night,’ I say.
‘Well, there’s still plenty of time before next week’s performance, thankfully. Time enough for you to get your act together and for Grace to sort your costume.’
But she’s wrong. Our time has almost run out.
Chapter 54
Grace
‘What happened?’ asks Ryan. ‘Where were you last night?’
‘I . . . couldn’t make it . . . I’m sorry.’ I force a smile but can feel my face cracking so I turn away and open my locker and pretend to sort out my books.
‘You OK?’
I nod.
A book drops to the floor. My hand’s shaking. I tuck it behind my back as Ryan picks up the book and pops it back in my locker for me.
‘You don’t seem OK,’ he says.
‘I’m fine. Really.’ I fight to keep my voice steady.
‘You’ve got that same look you had when I first met you. Like you’re watching out for something.’
‘I couldn’t get away. That’s all.’ I’m desperate to change the subject. ‘Kev sorted his intro on the first song?’
‘Grace. You can talk to me. You can tell me anything.’
‘Maybe he needs to pitch it lower.’
‘What are you so scared of?’
‘Nothing. Please, Ryan . . . Just leave me alone!’
We’re both surprised by the emotion in my voice. Neither of us was expecting it.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean . . .’
The hurt in his voice cuts me deep. I don’t know what to tell him, so I’m silent. We stand together, but, for the first time in weeks, miles apart.
‘Here,’ he says at last, holding out a little package wrapped in foil. ‘The lumps are toffee, not gravel.’
I stare at the misshapen package.
‘Twins made them with Dad last night,’ he says. ‘They called them biscuits. The jury’s still out.’
I bite back the tears prickling in my eyes as I realise in a few short hours I’ll never see Ryan or his lovely family again. And when Beachfest is in full swing tonight, we’ll be on our way home and I’ll have let Ryan down completely.
‘Tell them . . . thank you and . . .’ I can feel Ryan’s eyes on me. I want to say goodbye but I can’t. ‘Just thank them for me.’
‘You will be OK for tonight, won’t you?’ he asks hesitantly.
I can’t lie to him. But I can’t tell him the truth. I mumble an excuse about having to meet Ellie and hurry away. I’m dying inside when I glimpse Ryan’s bewildered expression as he watches me go.
‘See you later then,’ he calls.
I spend the rest of the day avoiding him but unable to think about anyone else. At lunchtime I hide out in Mad Mulligan’s office with Ellie’s costume on my lap pretending to sew it, freezing at every sound from the corridor. Even though there’s no point, I force my needle in and out, barely registering what I’m doing as I prick my fingers, getting smears of red blood onto the silver fabric.
As soon as school finishes I find Ellie in the cloakroom, ready to go home.
‘Have you told Ryan we’re leaving?’ she asks.
I hang my head.
We’re walking towards the front doors when Mad Mulligan spots us and calls, ‘Elle, where are you going?’
‘Um . . . home, Miss. Think I’m coming down with something.’
‘You’ll live. Come on, get a move on, we’re rehearsing in five minutes. No, four minutes and counting . . .’
Ellie darts me a look. ‘I’ll have to go,’ she says. ‘Make sure Mum’s OK. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
Chapter 55
Ellie
Everyone’s already costumed up and chatting excitedly or rehearsing moves and lines together. Only Cait stands apart with PJ, just inside the hall. As I walk in, he pushes her away from him, calling her a dumb cow. She bumps into me then spins out of the hall and rushes down the corridor.
Seeing Cait disappear, Mad Mulligan throws her hands into the air in theatrical despair.
‘Elle, will you please go and get Caitlin Trelawny back here, right now!’ she calls. ‘In case she hasn’t noticed, we have a play to perform in less than a week!’
I turn and hurry out of the hall, following Cait into the girls’ loos.
‘Cait?’ I call. ‘You OK?’
‘Course I am,’ she snaps, wiping her face with the palms of her hands. ‘Why don’t you just mind your own business for once?’
She goes to the sink, splashes cold water on her eyes and th
en glares at me. ‘And don’t you dare tell anyone I’ve been crying,’ she adds, as if her eyes weren’t a big red giveaway.
She turns to go.
‘Cait.’
‘What?’
‘I . . . I need to tell you something.’ I blurt out.
‘Like what?’
My heart’s thumping, but before I leave, I need to do this one last thing. I have to talk to her. If I don’t speak now I’ll always remember this moment and hate myself forever.
‘It’s a secret.’
‘Then why are you telling me?’
‘Because. . . because I’m not going to be here tomorrow.’
‘Yeah right, off to Hollywood, are you?’
‘Back to London.’
She looks at me surprised. ‘What about the play?’
I shrug. ‘You’ll get to be Princess Caraboo and it’ll be great.’
‘Don’t tease me.’
‘I’m not. I’m deadly serious.’
‘So why are you leaving now?’
‘My dad’s found us.’
‘Found you? What you going on about?’
‘I didn’t tell you the truth before. I’m sorry – really sorry. I’ve told so many tales, stupid stories – and been so mean to you, I’m not surprised you hate me. Dad’s not an actor – he works in an office. We ran away, Mum, Grace and me.’
‘Ran away?’
‘Everyone thinks he’s great, but he’s not. We left because he beat up Mum again.’
‘You’re just making this up, aren’t you?’ Cait tells me with disbelief. ‘This is another one of your stories.’
‘No. I swear. Until now, I’ve never told anyone the truth about Dad. I’m so scared and ashamed of him. I don’t want anyone to know what he’s really like.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
I roll up my sleeve. The bruise on my arm is purple and angry. The surrounding skin is blistered and red raw. Cait looks at it in shock and repulsion.
‘Did he do that?’
I nod.
‘Ellie, you’ve got to tell a teacher, someone who can do something about this.’
‘I can’t. I promised Mum. And if Dad finds out I’ve said anything, even to you, he’d . . . he’d . . .’ My voice trails away. I don’t want to think about what Dad might do.
‘So why are you telling me?’
‘Because . . . we were friends once.’
I look down at the ground, knowing that this isn’t the only reason. I struggle to find the right words. ‘What’s going on with PJ and you,’ I tell her, ‘it’s the same thing. Just starting.’
She stares at me shocked, as if I’ve slapped her. ‘PJ?’
‘That horrible way he talks to you, and makes fun of you all the time, but nasty, like he wants to upset you and the way he tries to control your life. I’ve seen it all before with my dad . . . and worse.’
She looks down but I can see her face reddening and I wonder if PJ’s ever hit her.
‘It’s too late for us,’ I tell her, ‘but you can stop it happening to you.’
Finally she looks up at me. ‘It’s not too late. But you’ve got to tell. Talk to Mulligan. Straight after rehearsals.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You must.’
We head back to the hall together. Inside everyone’s waiting. PJ calls to Cait but she doesn’t answer him. She doesn’t turn around. From the corner of my eye I see him scowl at her and mutter under his breath. I glance at Cait and she gives me a tight little smile.
‘You’ve been a right pain in the butt, Ellie Smith, but I don’t actually hate you, by the way,’ she whispers.
‘OK everyone, can we start rehearsing now, please?’ Mad Mulligan asks.
I try my hardest to forget about Dad and just concentrate on the play for one final time. Whatever happens, I might as well enjoy this last hour on stage, doing what I love best.
I put everything I’ve got into the performance and Cait is amazing too. She loses all the awkward girliness she had before and suddenly she’s totally convincing. We run through the whole play and Mulligan is ecstatic as we finish the last scene.
‘We are going to that drama festival!’ she announces triumphantly. ‘Bring it on!’
When she dismisses us all, Cait hurries over to me.
‘Now,’ she urges. ‘Go on. Tell her.’
Mad Mulligan is busy collecting up bits of costume. With Cait watching, I head over to her.
‘Miss, can I speak to you for a minute, please?’ I ask nervously.
‘Is it very important, Elle?’ she asks, balancing several hats on top of the pile of boots she’s carrying. ‘I’ve got to label all these hats and a pile of props to sort through.’
‘Well, yes, it is.’
‘OK, what’s up?’
I look around the hall. There are still several people milling about.
‘It’s kind of private.’
We head down to her office. She dumps the things she’s carrying onto her desk.
‘Fire away, Princess Caraboo,’ she jokes.
And now it comes to the moment I’m not sure how to start. Mulligan gives me a big bright smile while trying unsuccessfully to hide her impatience.
‘Well?’ she asks, picking up a hat and examining its wide brim. ‘Last minute nerves, is it? That’s perfectly normal. When I was at drama school, everyone was up in the air for at least three weeks before a performance. More nerves the better, I say. But you mustn’t let them get to you. Just turn them to energy and channel it into your acting.’
‘It’s my dad,’ I say finally.
‘He’s the actor, isn’t he? In America?’
‘No. I . . . I made that up.’ I can feel my cheeks burning red.
‘Oh.’ She looks at me curiously. ‘Right.’
It all tumbles out now. All about Dad and how we ran away and how he’s found us now. Mulligan takes a deep breath then looks me in the eye.
‘Elle, are you sure everything you’ve told me is completely true? You’re not just exaggerating a little? Embroidering things a bit?’
She starts rambling on about how she and her dad didn’t get on when she was a teenager.
‘We had some right humdinger rows, I can tell you. But it’s amazing what a few years and calming those hormones does. We’re best buddies now. Even let me choose his nursing home.’ She gives a bonkers little laugh and I can tell she thinks I’m making a fuss over nothing. But even if she did believe me I suddenly realise, what would she do? She isn’t called Mad Mulligan for nothing. The bruise on my arm feels sore but there’s no point showing her.
‘Forget it,’ I say, ‘I have to go. I’m sorry, Miss, you’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘Elle?’ she calls after me.
‘Ellie.’ I tell her. ‘My name’s really just plain Ellie.’
I rush out of her office, into the playground and through the school gates. And it isn’t until I’m almost back at the caravan that I realise I’ve left my school bag in the hall.
Chapter 56
Grace
I don’t go straight home from school. My head is on fire as thoughts of Ryan, Dad, Mum and Ellie batter from corner to corner in my mind. I head for the beach, hoping the fresh sea air will allow me to breathe and stop the choking feeling in my throat. The wind is blowing hard but the sun feels hot as I climb the cliff path and sit on the same bench I sat with Ryan that day he rescued Bruno. The thought of letting him down tonight is tormenting me but knowing that I’ll never see him again is unbearable.
Feeling desperate, I peer over the cliff edge and shiver, not wanting to acknowledge the horrible thoughts worming their way into my mind, whispering to me that if I just stepped out a few paces everything could be over in a few seconds . . . whereas going back home with Dad would be a life sentence.
From the corner of my eye I see two sleek dark heads bobbing between the waves - mermaid seals, with pearls for tears. They swim around the rocks without a care in
the world. Lucky them, I think. I sit for ages watching them and only gradually realise it’s getting late and I should be home.
I hurry back, panicking slightly as I anticipate Dad’s anger. Inside the caravan, Mum is packing up the last of our things. Ellie’s here but there’s no sign of Dad.
‘He’s had to take the car to a garage in town,’ she tells me, quickly taking Gran’s quilt from a compartment under one of the bench seats, folding it and putting it carefully in the bottom of her holdall. ‘He’ll be back in half an hour.’
The caravan door swings open. Mum reaches for the bag as Dad walks in.
‘What’s in there?’ he asks suspiciously, seeing the look of panic etched on her face.
‘Just a few bits and pieces,’ she replies brightly, standing to attention but avoiding his eye.
He snatches the holdall from her and tips out the contents. His expression darkens when he sees the quilt.
‘And what the hell is this doing here?’
Mum glances at Ellie and me to warn us not to say anything.
‘Well? I’m waiting.’
‘I . . . I took it out of the bin.’ Mum’s trembling now.
‘Oh you did, did you? And who gave you permission to do that? Why d’you think I threw it away in the first place?’
He bundles it into a ball when suddenly Mum’s phone rings. She stares at it surprised but doesn’t pick it up.
‘Full of secrets aren’t you? Got yourself a new boyfriend, too?’
He grabs the phone and answers it. ‘Yes,’ he snaps.
As he listens to the voice on the other end of the line, he looks slightly taken aback. His tone of voice changes to warm and pleasant.
‘I’m afraid she’s not here at the moment. Perhaps I can take a message? . . . Tomorrow? . . . And what’s it about? . . . Fair enough. Tomorrow then. Goodbye.’
He ends the call and looks at Mum.
‘A Miss Turner wants to see you in school tomorrow.’ He glares at Ellie and me. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Grace was in trouble for missing her detention a few weeks ago,’ Ellie says. ‘Mum’s already seen her once.’
‘Grace in detention! I could understand Drama Queenie here, but Grace?’ He jabs a finger at Mum. ‘You see what you’ve done, bringing my children to this dump? They used to behave themselves back home!’
The Summer of Telling Tales Page 17
