‘I’m sorry, Adam,’ Mum mumbles.
‘She sounds like a right old bag. I hope she tears you off a strip.’
‘But . . . aren’t we going home tonight?’ Ellie asks.
‘And that’s another thing,’ he snaps, rounding on Mum again. ‘The stupid garage is waiting for a gasket to arrive. I can’t pick up the car until tomorrow evening. Thanks to you, I’m going to have to take yet another day off work.’
He flings the quilt across the room where it lands in a crumpled heap next to Bruno, who whimpers. Like us, very soon the quilt will be gone from here. Dad will get rid of it and this time he’ll make absolutely sure we can’t rescue it.
I look at it lying on the floor and feel sad until it slowly dawns on me that Dad’s too late; we’ve already heard its stories. They’re no longer secret; they’re a part of us now. A wave of triumph floods though me. Although I stand frozen next to Mum and Ellie, I’m dancing inside because I know Dad can’t take those tales away from us. Tomorrow we’ll have to go back with him, but we’re going to be here for the next twenty-four hours. More than enough time for me to make another story – all of my own.
Chapter 57
Ellie
Mum has made steak and onion pie for tea. I sit up straight at the caravan table careful not to let my knees knock into Dad’s, getting cramp in my leg instead.
‘It’s your favourite,’ Mum tells him hopefully, as if the huge piece of pie on his plate might somehow calm him down.
‘Pastry’s burnt,’ he grumbles but he eats it all the same.
I try my best not to spill any peas or let a single flake of pastry escape onto the table so Dad has no reason to shout at me, but Grace just pushes her food around her plate with her fork. Mum shoots a warning glance at her.
‘All right, love?’ she asks quietly.
Grace looks down and doesn’t reply.
‘Worried about that Miss Turner, very likely,’ says Dad. ‘And so you should be, young lady. You can reap your reward, learn your lesson, so when we do get home we’ll have the old Grace back. Now eat up.’
But she puts down her fork, rubs her hand across her stomach and pulls a face.
‘I don’t think she’s feeling well, Adam. It’s probably her . . . you know. Do you want to lie down, Grace?’
She nods then goes into our little bedroom.
‘Bloody women! There’s always something the matter with you,’ says Dad, forking in another chunk of pie.
As soon as I can, I follow Grace into our room. She’s lying in her bunk under her duvet even though it still feels warm in our room.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
With her eyes, she motions to me to close the door. As I click it shut, she quietly drops down from the bunk. She’s not wearing her school uniform – she’s put on her favourite flowery hippy dress and her raspberry coloured jumper. Silently she takes her school uniform and bag and makes a Grace-shaped bolster on her bed before covering it with the duvet.
She picks up her violin and bow then opens the window. ‘You don’t know anything, OK? You think I’m asleep, right here under the covers,’ she insists. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘Dad’ll kill you if he finds out.’
She looks at me, deadly serious. ‘It’ll be worth it.’
Carefully, she squeezes herself through the window and drops down onto the ground. She hitches up her skirt in one hand and with her long hair blowing in the wind, runs off toward the beach as I’m yelling inside my head, ‘Go, Grace! Go!’
I slip quietly back into the other room. Dad’s watching a film on television while Mum’s washing the dishes. Her hand’s shaking as she carefully lowers the plate she’s just rinsed onto the draining board, but it slips and drops to the floor with a loud crash.
‘For goodness’ sake, woman!’ Dad yells. ‘Can’t you even wash up properly?’
Mum doesn’t answer but the next cup she washes, she puts down as if it were a hand grenade.
‘How’s Grace?’ she asks me quietly a few minutes later.
‘Think she’s asleep.’
‘I’m trying to listen to this!’ Dad growls, without taking his eyes off the telly. Which is just as well because he doesn’t see the secret smile on my face.
Suddenly, the caravan is full of music. Dad looks round to tell Mum off again but realises the sound is coming from outside.
‘What the hell’s that racket?’ he asks, peering out of the window.
Chapter 58
Grace
The beach is packed. The stage is lit up with coloured lamps that throw their light onto the crowd below, bathing them in red, green and blue. The whole school and half the town is here. I weave my way around groups of people, looking for Ryan. Finally I spot him on the far side, standing with Kev and Darren who look totally downcast as Ryan scans the crowds, searching for some sign of me.
I wave and eventually he sees me. He nudges the others, who grin in relief, and then hurries over.
‘I knew you’d come,’ he whispers, taking my hand. ‘You’re cold.’
I’m shaking. But not with cold.
‘We’re on next,’ he says, putting his jacket around me. ‘Come on.’
He leads me to where Kev and Darren are waiting and then we all make our way to the back of the stage, just as the first band are finishing their last song.
As they bound off, the MC gives a speech about how important the lifeboat station is and how the money raised from Beachfest will help to keep it running, while we quickly take their place and get ready to play.
‘And now . . . Put your hands together for our first local band tonight – The Damage!’
We start our first song and within seconds the crowd love us. To one side, at the front, I spot Ryan’s dad with the twins on his lap.
Both the twins wave at me furiously and don’t stop even when I mouth hello and smile back. Ryan’s dad has tears in his eyes but a huge grin on his face. I glance over at Ryan, who smiles proudly back at me.
We’ve just begun our second and final number, when suddenly my heart misses a beat as I spot a figure in the distance marching down from the caravan site. Even in the dull moonlight I realise it’s Dad. Any moment now he’ll see me.
My first thought is to run off stage before he spots me and somehow try to get back to the caravan undetected. I glance at Ryan who grins back at me unaware anything’s wrong. I take a deep breath and stay exactly where I am. As I play on, I watch Dad thread his way through the crowd, coming nearer and nearer, until I can see his face, his expression set hard like concrete. And now he’s here, standing in front of the stage, staring straight at me with a fixed smile on his face but his eyes like thunder, as the crowd calls for an encore.
‘Fantastic! Let’s hear The Damage one more time!’ echoes the MC.
Dad nods to me to get off the stage.
I stare back at him then tuck my violin – my grandad’s violin – under my chin and take his bow and launch into the song again. This time I’m playing for Grandad and for Mum, for Ellie and for me. I play louder and bolder than before. I play defiantly. The music takes over, nothing else matters. I look out at the crowd and suddenly realise that everyone is dancing – everyone except Dad. Safe in the song, I desperately want it to last forever, but all too soon it finishes.
As we step down from the stage, Dad is waiting for me a few metres away.
‘I have to go,’ I tell Ryan.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘My dad’s here.’
‘I’ll come and say hi.’
‘No, don’t! Another time . . .’ I bite my lip. There will be no other time. Soon there will be no more Ryan in my life either. I take a deep breath and hurry over to Dad.
Ryan looks puzzled but gives him a wave. Dad forces his lips upwards and waves back at Ryan as he catches hold of my arm. I can feel his vice-like fingers digging into my skin. He doesn’t look at me.
‘Consider him dumped,’ he says quietly, nod
ding pleasantly to Ryan, and giving him another wave before hurrying me back through the crowd towards the path to the caravan site. And I know he’s furious because he’s not telling me off. He doesn’t say a word. Suddenly a voice I recognise rings out from behind us.
‘Mr Smith, I presume?’
Surprised, Dad looks around as the familiar shape of Miss Turner steps out of the darkness.
‘Turner, Miss Turner,’ she tells him. ‘I spoke to you earlier today on the phone?’
‘Oh yes. Of course.’ He assumes charming mode, flashes a huge smile and says, ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘And you too.’
‘What a fantastic concert – and for such a good cause! What would we do without the lifeboats, eh?’
‘Absolutely . . . Not staying then?’
He gives a disappointed sigh. ‘Grace isn’t feeling too good. Are you, love?’
I shake my head.
‘What a shame.’ Miss Turner is staring hard at me now. A wave of nausea floods up from my churning stomach. I must look awful.
‘A good night’s sleep and she’ll be right as rain,’ Dad says warmly.
‘Course. So I’ll see your wife tomorrow.’
His eyes flick between her and me, and I can detect the suspicion in them. ‘I hear Gracie has been in a spot of trouble?’ he says letting go of my arm and putting his around my shoulder.
‘Grace and I have had one or two problems since she arrived, but there are several things I want to discuss.’ Miss Turner looks him straight in the eye, but like a poker player, gives nothing away.
Dad pulls a face. ‘I’m afraid that may not be possible after all. You see we’re leaving tomorrow.’
‘Leaving?’ Miss Turner looks surprised. ‘I wasn’t aware you were leaving! This is a complete surprise.’
‘It’s totally unexpected for us too. We had hoped to move down here permanently, but it’s just not going to happen. My new job’s fallen through. The girls are gutted – we all are – but that’s the way it goes.’
‘All the more reason for your wife to pop in then. I’ll inform the Head and we can sort out the transfer paperwork for their next school.’
‘I’m not sure we’ll have time – there’s a lot to pack and —’
‘It won’t take long and it’ll give the girls a chance to say goodbye to all their friends.’ She darts a look at Dad. ‘Unless you have a problem with that?’
The corner of Dad’s mouth twitches but he pushes his smile still wider.
‘Goodness, no . . . That’s fine! Absolutely fine. I’m sure we’ll fit everything in.’
‘See you tomorrow in registration, Grace,’ she tells me with an authoritative nod as Dad hurries me off.
‘You’ve said something, haven’t you?’ he hisses at me when we’re out of earshot, digging his fingers into my shoulder. ‘Haven’t you?’
I shake my head violently. He increases his pace half pulling me along.
‘It was your sister then, wasn’t it? Telling tales. I might have known she couldn’t keep her big mouth shut.’
Chapter 59
Ellie
Dad bursts into the caravan pulling Grace behind him like a rag doll.
He snatches Grandad’s violin from her hand and smashes it against the hard metal of the cooker, splintering it into pieces, then snaps the bow over his thigh and chucks it on top of the quilt lying in the corner.
We stare at him shocked. Tears well up in Grace’s eyes but she doesn’t dare move to pick anything up. None of us move. Bruno starts to whimper. Even the caravan shudders as the wind blows around it.
‘One word out of place tomorrow,’ Dad snarls, as he grabs Bruno’s collar and heaves him outside. ‘Just one single word and I’ll kill you,’ he threatens Mum. He turns to Grace and me. ‘Do you hear that? Are you listening?’
Grace mouths and I say, ‘Yes, Dad.’
‘Now get out of my sight!’
We hurry into our little bedroom and close the door behind us. I don’t ask Grace what happened. I don’t need to. She sits on the little bunk shaking. I put my arm around her and whisper that everything is going to be OK, but I don’t believe the words as I force them out of my mouth and I can’t stop her trembling however hard I hug her.
We don’t sleep. We wait. We listen. We hope and we pray Mum is OK in the other room. Outside I can hear Bruno whining gently to come back inside. Quietly, I open our window, lean out and stretch my hand down to him. He puts his paws up on the side of the caravan. I whisper reassuring words to him as he licks my fingers then finally lies down to sleep under our room, out of the wind.
When it gets light, we dress for school. Mum and Dad are already up. Mum is wearing her black trousers and a high-necked, long-sleeved blouse. Feeling too sick to eat breakfast we head off to school.
I’ve just got to my first lesson, when I’m summoned to Miss Turner’s office. Everyone turns and stares at me as I hurry out of class, wondering what’s going on.
I step into her room and see Mum sitting in front of the desk, nervously clutching her handbag on her lap. Seconds later Grace comes in, followed by Mad Mulligan and Miss Turner.
Mad Mulligan gives me a thin smile as I sit down but I daren’t look at her. My heart’s pounding as I realise she’s taken what I said about Dad seriously.
Miss Turner starts talking when suddenly the door swings open and Dad walks in.
‘Oh . . . I thought my wife was just picking up paperwork,’ he says in a jolly tone. ‘This looks much more serious!’
‘Why don’t you join us, Mr Smith?’ asks Miss Turner, glancing at me. ‘I think Ellie has something she wants to say.’
He turns to me, shaking his head. ‘Oh Lord! So that’s what all this is about. I might have known. Ellie, I give up!’
I freeze. I daren’t say a word.
‘I’m sorry?’ asks Miss Turner.
‘We are having so much trouble at home with Ellie at the moment, aren’t we, love?’
He turns to Mum and looks at her. She nods.
‘It’s very embarrassing to admit this, Miss Turner, but putting it bluntly, Ellie tells lies. Great big whoppers. We have tried, haven’t we, Karin? Oh, we’ve tried everything, but it’s compulsive. Do you know, she swore blind at her last school that she was adopted! Broke your heart, didn’t she, love?’
All eyes are on Mum again. She nods.‘It was . . . upsetting.’
‘Confidentially, we’ve even seen our GP. He said she’ll grow out of it. We’re still waiting!’ He lowers his voice and appeals to Miss Turner. ‘Look, I know we’re leaving, and it’s all a bit late now, but I think Karin and I, well, we’d both appreciate any professional advice you can give us, Miss Turner – anything that could help, because frankly we’re at our wits end, aren’t we, love?’
As Mum nods, Dad turns to me and asks wearily, ‘So, Ellie, what have you said this time?’
‘Um . . . nothing . . .’ I mumble.
‘Come on Ellie, spit it out.’
Although I don’t look at him I can feel his eyes boring into me. There’s a deathly silence. Everyone’s looking at me now. I glance at Mum, remembering Dad’s horrible threats about killing her.
‘I . . . I told everyone you were an actor in America,’ I mumble.
Dad bursts out laughing.
‘Oh, Ellie, for goodness’ sake!’ He rolls his eyes at Miss Turner and says, ‘I’m an accountant. I work in an office. Well, I suppose that’s less serious than her usual lurid tales.’
‘Ellie has also made other accusations,’ says Miss Turner. ‘Serious accusations that as a school we have a duty to investigate, whether you’re leaving or not.’
‘Accusations? Really? Well . . . that doesn’t surprise me. You can see what we’re up against.’ Dad shakes his head.
‘She’s frightened of you,’ says Mad Mulligan.
‘Oh come on, Ellie, really!’ Dad protests with a laugh.
‘She says you can be violent and aggressive.’
&nb
sp; ‘Me? Violent? You must be joking! Now that’s not funny, Ellie. Karin, can you believe it?’
Mum shakes her head and Dad carries on.
‘You’ve really gone too far now, Ellie. Miss Turner, I can tell you exactly what this is all about. If I tell you off for something, Ellie, you can’t get your revenge by going around making me out to be some kind of monster! This has got to stop. Right now. Before you get yourself in real trouble. Do you understand?’ There’s an edge in his voice that I know well.
I glance at Mum, and see the desperation behind her blank expression.
‘Look, I’ll admit it. I am strict – too strict, some people might say,’ Dad says with a glance at Mad Mulligan. ‘But let’s face it, kids today, kids like Ellie, need a firm hand – they’ll run wild otherwise, but they’ll thank you for it when they’re older. But as to being violent? That’s a complete and utter pack of lies. Tell them, Karin.’
All eyes are on Mum.
‘Perhaps it would be better if you spoke to us without your husband present?’ asks Turner.
‘I don’t mind,’ Dad says. ‘Absolutely no problem. D’you want me to wait outside, Karin?’
‘No it’s OK . . .’ Mum says. ‘Miss Turner, Ellie is a very imaginative girl, and I suppose her imagination runs away with her sometimes. She doesn’t mean it but that’s what happens. But apart from that, everything’s fine at home. Really. There’s nothing wrong.’
‘Ellie, if you are just telling tales, you’ll be in one hell of a lot of trouble,’ Miss Turner warns me.
I look over at Dad. He’s smiling at us because he knows he’s won.
Chapter 60
Grace
My mouth is as dry as sandpaper. I swallow hard but a jagged lump sticks halfway down my throat adding to the choking sensation already there. My stomach churns angrily and although I’m feeling dizzy, I force the soles of my feet into the floor and push myself up.
‘Grace?’ asks Mrs Mulligan, seeing me swaying slightly. ‘Are you all right?’
The Summer of Telling Tales Page 18
