Storms

by Chris Vick

  ‘Yeah. Too much food and vino. We need tea and air. Delicious, though, thanks so much, Mum. And Dad, thanks for the amazing wines. Who’s Charlie?’

  A look passed between Dad and Richard. Richard raised his eyebrows. He muffled a snigger.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ said Hannah. ‘Who’s Charlie?’

  They didn’t answer. Neither Dad, nor Richard. The only sound was the crackle of the fire.

  ‘Well, go on,’ said Mum. ‘Who is this Charlie? You’ve never mentioned him before?’

  ‘Someone from Peru we invested in heavily,’ said Richard, his words slurring slightly. ‘Looked like he was going to let us down for a bit. The stormy waters of offshore investments, and all that. But he delivered in the end. Here’s to Charlie.’ He raised his voice. He raised his glass. Too loud, too boisterous. When no one joined the toast, he drank the whole glass, in one go. ‘The thing about our chum Charlie is—’

  ‘Shut up, Richard,’ said Dad. Quietly.

  Mum and Lottie looked confused. The atmosphere had changed. Hannah didn’t know why. She stepped forward.

  ‘Who is Charlie, Dad? Someone who lent you the money?’

  ‘Why are you asking, Hannah?’ said Dad.

  ‘Just curious.’

  She was confused. She never asked Dad about business. She wasn’t usually interested. But this seemed so strange. Two days ago, he had – apparently – been going bust. For millions. Now they were drinking champagne. All because of someone called Charlie. From Peru?

  Dad sighed. ‘An investment, if you’re really interested. Long-held offshore stocks. Tied up. Didn’t think we could sell them yet. But we did, and at the right price.’ His smile was back now; he’d regained his composure. Just like when the policeman had told him about Pandora. ‘Of course if you’re really interested we can go through the paperwork. Do you want to see the accounts, Hannah?’

  ‘I was only asking,’ she said, and turned to go … except she’d had a thought. An insane thought. Odd connections were forming in her head, words and events weaving together into an impossible thread.

  Pandora. The marina, and their miraculous turn of fortune. Jake and his drug deal. The word ‘Charlie’. A nickname for cocaine. How Dad and Richard had reacted to it. Jake in hospital. Jake saying he’d found the drugs in a cove, then changing his mind and saying it was on a beach. Saying the drugs came from a yacht, then saying that was just a guess. A yacht like Pandora? No. Not possible. Questions piled up in her head. She felt her face flush red. A moment of panic. Did she really want to know the answers to these questions? Yes, she did. And she knew her father. She would know, now, if he was lying.

  ‘Do you know anyone called Smithy?’ she said. ‘A friend of Charlie’s, perhaps? Someone who had something to do with Pandora sinking?’

  ‘Pete,’ said Mum. ‘What’s going on?’ Dad looked at her, then back at Hannah.

  ‘Nothing, darling. Hannah,’ he said, in his kindest, softest voice. ‘I’ve never heard of this Smithy. Okay?’

  He smiled. The way he said ‘okay’ was final. A conversation-ender, telling her to trust him – and to shut up. He smiled. ‘Now go and have your tea, Hannah.’ It sounded like a threat.

  And she knew. She knew.

  She put a hand over her mouth.

  ‘Are you okay, darling?’ said Mum.

  Hannah felt the world move. She heard it in the soft howl of the wind outside. And in the silence in the house. She saw it in the puzzled gaze of her mother and in the stifling air, thick as water. Everything was suddenly, overwhelmingly, a nightmare.

  ‘I feel sick,’ she whispered. She took a step back, shaking her head. ‘It can’t be. You …’

  ‘What, darling? Me what?’ Dad put his glass down, stood up and stepped towards her, as though to hold her.

  ‘No! Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me.’

  ‘Hannah?’ said Mum, looking from Dad to Hannah and back again.

  She knew what Jake hadn’t told her – and why.

  ‘Dad,’ she said, ‘who are you? Who the hell are you?’

  ‘Hannah, don’t speak to your father like that.’

  ‘You don’t know him, Mum.’

  The horror of realisation spread over his face. Because she knew the truth of him now. And he saw it.

  Hannah left the room with Simon. They walked through to the kitchen. Simon went to the kettle, but Hannah grabbed Beano’s lead and her coat, and charged out of the door. Simon and Beano followed.

  ‘Hey, what about the tea?’ said Simon.

  Hannah ran to the bushes, into the dark, bent over and threw up. Then ran …

  She ran into the night, ignoring Simon when he called her name. Away from houses and streetlights.

  She ran till the wind drowned Simon’s shouts, the village was behind her and she was in darkness.

  She stumbled and tripped. Blind, but still running. Beano at her heel. She ran and ran and ran, till she found herself at the cliffs. The moon was half hidden by cloud, but she could see the old tin mines, the ruins that clung to the cliffs near Penford Cove.

  She gasped. The mines were miles from home. How long had she been running? How had she even got here? She had no idea. The time between leaving the house and now was a blur. All she could remember was darkness and running.

  She fell to the ground, dripping sweat and tears. When she had caught her breath, she sat up and looked around.

  Most of the mine’s walls and towers had crashed down on to the rocks long ago. Chunks lay broken on the ground, grown over with moss and lichen.

  But the main chimney still half stood, jagged and black against the sky.

  Inside it was a stone stairwell with a dark space beneath. Perhaps an old furnace. She stood for a moment, walked over and crawled into the hollow.

  The ground was dry there, and the walls a protection from the wind. She took her coat off and sat beneath it, with her knees hunched under her chin, looking to the sea.

  Beano nuzzled into her. She clung to his fur. And thought: What now?

  Her life had been safe and secure. Certain, unmoving. Her family, her home, her boyfriend. The future too: her career.

  Were any of these things real, now? Had they ever been? Or had it been an illusion: one massive, fantastic lie? The ground beneath her had just been a flimsy raft. Her life had tipped over. She’d fallen into a dark sea.

  If there had been no storms, there would have been no stranded whales, no need for Jake to find money to help her. None of this would have happened. She’d still be living in blissful ignorance about Dad.

  Was it better to know the truth, however awful?

  She didn’t know.

  Beano sat up and licked the tears off her cheek with a hot, sandpaper tongue.

  ‘Gerroff, you disgusting beast.’ She laughed, in spite of everything. Breathed deep, felt a little calmer. Tried to think.

  She couldn’t stay there. Maybe she should go to Phoebe or Bess’s.

  She would. Soon. But drops of rain were falling outside. And the wind was blowing stronger.

  So for now …

  She lay down and pulled the coat over her shoulder. Beano lay down too. She put her head on his tum.

  ‘Makes a change, eh, mutt? Me using you as a pillow.’

  She would go soon. But the longer she lay there, the less she wanted to move.

  What was that thing Mum said when Grandpa died? The news had ‘knocked the stuffing’ out of her. That was about right. That was how Hannah felt now. She’d had the stuffing knocked out of her, and now she was hollow.

  Jake

  HE HAD WOKEN in the night, in pain, taken more pills, and then slept.

  The rest had done him some good. The ache in his thigh wasn’t so sharp. The storm in his head was less violent than it had been in the middle of the night.

  But he still felt like crap. A hangover weighed on him like a blanket. His leg was messed up, Hannah was gone, and now Goofy had smacked him round the chops.

&nb
sp; That still stung.

  He reached out for the bottle of pills by the bed. Paused.

  The doc had said to take them before the pain got too much. Every few hours.

  Yeah, they killed pain. But they made him dizzy-sick too. And he didn’t like the fog they wrapped round everything.

  He’d needed that fog yesterday. Not today.

  *

  Tackling the stairs was tricky. He put both feet on a step, then moved his good leg down to the next one before hopping the bad leg down, using one crutch.

  Mum and Hattie came running from the kitchen. Sean followed, gawping.

  ‘Oh, Jake. Let me help you,’ said Mum.

  ‘No. I’m fine. It just takes time.’ Jake reached the bottom of the stairs, panting. Somehow, all this was harder with them watching.

  ‘You have to let us help you, Jake,’ Hattie said, as he made his way to the kitchen. ‘We want to.’

  Maybe he would let Hattie play nurse. She was clearly into the idea. Sean came in behind and leant against the fridge, arms folded, grinning as Jake struggled with sitting.

  ‘If you need help going for a dump, I’m not doing it.’

  ‘Thanks, bro.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you have a parrot on your shoulder, Long John?’

  ‘Your jokes aren’t funny, Sean,’ said Mum.

  Sean grabbed the crutch, and hopped around the kitchen. ‘Oh, yes they … aaaarrrrrrr,’ he groaned, in his best pirate voice.

  Hattie laughed. Sean playing the fool, Mum setting to making breakfast, the Saturday smell of bacon and coffee, the sound of eggs being cracked – it all meant normality. Normality was good. Normality was what Jake needed.

  Hattie and Sean sat opposite.

  ‘Go on, then,’ said Sean. ‘Tell us how you fell on this spike.’

  The little git was stirring. Mum might buy whatever story he cooked up. Sean already didn’t.

  ‘I was working with Goofy, down the docks. Storm-damaged boat. Lost my balance trying to get the thing out the water. There was a spike off an old iron harbour fence, in the water. Storms must’ve uncovered it. Could be worse. People have lost homes in the storms. Folk have died on the roads.’

  ‘Ned’s new bird almost died.’

  Jake froze, lifting a glass of juice to his lips.

  ‘What … um … about Ned’s girlfriend?’

  ‘Rag told me. She hit a deer on the road. Came home covered in blood, apparently. Same day as you fell on your “spike”. Rag says her fancy car’s fine. You’d reckon it’d be a write-off.’ Sean raised a cheeky eyebrow. The little bastard knew something. Not the whole story, but something.

  Jake didn’t want Sean to know that. Not ever. He glanced at Mum, but she wasn’t paying attention. Too busy with breakfast.

  ‘Are you all right to fly?’ said Mum. ‘With that leg.’

  Jake took a deep breath. ‘I ain’t going to Hawaii, Mum.’

  Mum turned. ‘Not … going?’ She looked at Jake, frowning and puzzled. She wiped her hands on her jeans.

  ‘I can’t afford it, Mum.’

  ‘Oh. I thought … you were coming into some money?’

  Jake shot a look at Sean. Sean shrugged.

  A cloud had fallen on Mum. She was suddenly hunched, and sad. What had Sean told her, what had she been led to hope for?

  ‘And Hannah? You … and Hannah?’ Her voice was high-pitched, clinging to hope.

  He shook his head. ‘Over.’

  ‘Oh, Jake, no! Sweetheart, it’s only a few months. You can—’

  ‘It’s over.’

  ‘But I love Hannah!’ Hattie shrieked, her face a the-world-just-ended mask of horror. ‘I really love her!’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jake. ‘Me too.’

  Even Sean looked beaten by this news. ‘Bro. That’s a bad deal,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Mum went back to cooking, picking up the frying pan and moving the bacon around. ‘I loved Hannah too. But if that girl isn’t prepared to wait for you. Well … I’m not sure I can say.’

  ‘It weren’t her fault, Mum.’

  ‘Well, she finished it, didn’t she? I can’t believe it was you.’

  ‘It was my fault. In a way.’

  Mum looked round again. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Something so massively stupid, I’m not going to tell you. So there’s no point asking. Okay?’ He pointed at Sean.

  ‘Okay,’ said Sean.

  ‘Never mind, Jake,’ said Hattie. ‘You can spend more time with us now. And … it’s bad you’re not going away, but it’s good too.’ She came and hugged him.

  ‘Yeah, little sis.’ He kissed her cheek.

  ‘How come you’re suddenly so broke, then?’ said Mum, routing in cupboards and drawers for a plate, a knife and fork. ‘Hattie, get your brother a slice of bread, and butter it for him, will you? You can serve.’

  Nurse Hattie got to work. Mum sat down. ‘Well, it is good you’ll be around. I’m going to need help … I was going to ask you for a bit of help with the rent, with the money you’re getting.’

  Jake glared at Sean, and Mum saw. ‘It’s not Sean’s fault, Jake. He was just trying to help.’

  He didn’t like to see Mum like this. Embarrassed, her words breaking up with shame. ‘I was only … talking about … borrowing, for a bit. This money you’re getting. It’s your money, love. It’ll help set you up. I just meant for a bit, you know.’

  ‘It’s our money, Mum. But I ain’t getting it. Not for a while. Sean told you wrong. Sorry.’

  ‘Oh.’ She sighed, deflating like a balloon, until she looked more crippled than he was. Like she might find it hard to stand again. Knocked out.

  ‘We’ll find a way to sort the rent,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry.’

  Mum’s gaze dropped on to the wood of the table. She put her hands on its surface, like if she didn’t hold herself there, she’d slip to the floor. ‘Don’t worry? That’s easy to say, Jake, my son.’ The words were barely whispered.

  ‘We’ll sort it out, Mum.’ He leant across the table, wincing with the pain of doing it. He took her hand. ‘Okay, Mum. Okay?’

  ‘How? You’re not even going to be able to do bar work for some time.’

  ‘I don’t know yet. But we will. I promise. Sometimes you have to decide you’re going to do something, then you work out how.’

  She looked up, smiling through the worry. He winked at her.

  Hattie plonked a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. The bacon was burnt. One of the egg yolks had burst, leaking on to sloppily buttered bread.

  ‘Deeeelicious!’ he said, and tucked in.

  Hattie beamed. ‘Yay! Mum, it’s time to take me to Suzie’s.’

  Mum looked up at the clock. ‘Oh yeah. Come on, then.’

  They went to get their coats and shoes. Sean sloped off too.

  Jake waited for the door to click shut then counted to twenty, to give Mum and Hattie time to get out of earshot.

  ‘Sean! Get here now.’

  Sean didn’t answer. Jake stood up, which hurt. Balancing a hand on the chair, he lifted the crutch, and used it to stab at the ceiling, so hard it shook.

  Boom, boom, boom, boom. ‘Now, Sean!’

  Sean padded down the stairs.

  ‘Sit down.’

  ‘I’m just going out.’

  ‘Sit. Down.’

  Sean did as he was told.

  ‘You little shit. Why’d you tell her I was getting the money? I said not to.’

  ‘She was desperate.’ He wasn’t grinning now. He wasn’t taking the mick, either. ‘I found her crying. You said you were going to sort it, give her some money. I had to tell her, bro. I had to. You said you were going to help. But now you’re not.’

  ‘No. I can’t.’

  ‘What’s going on, Jake?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘The money. Ned’s girlfriend. What are you involved in? Rag said your name was mentioned. The girl was going mental. Ned couldn’t calm her d
own.’

  Jake felt sweat on his brow. Pain was singing out in his leg, begging for attention.

  ‘None of your beeswax,’ he said.

  ‘Bro. That blood, on Tasha. It was yours, wasn’t it? I don’t know what you’re involved in, but be careful.’

  Jake shook his head. This was his younger bro, telling him what he should do.

  ‘Don’t worry. There’s no more trouble I can get myself in. It’s got as bad as it can. I’m going to make it right with Mum too.’

  ‘How?’ Sean was a low kind of angry. Not fierce, or piss-taking. A scared kind of angry.

  Jake sighed. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, then!’ Sean sat back. For all the sarky banter, he wanted Jake to come good. He was looking at Jake, to him, up to him. And Jake could hardly look Sean in the face. He couldn’t face the hope he saw there.

  ‘You going to make it right with Hannah too?’ said Sean.

  ‘I’d like to, mate. But I’m not sure if I can.’

  Sean stood, making a ‘tchuuuh’ sound of disgust. He made to walk out of the kitchen then stopped at the door.

  ‘Are you okay?’ said Sean.

  ‘Yeah. Go on, you’d best be off.’

  Sean left. Jake crunched on the bacon and mopped the egg up with his bread.

  His phone rang. He didn’t want to speak to anyone, but he checked the caller ID anyway. It was Goofy. He cursed himself for hoping it might be Hannah, and put the phone down on the table.

  Seconds later, a text arrived.

  Answer yr phone, u muppet!

  The next time it rang, he answered.

  ‘How’s the head?’ said Goofy.

  ‘Sore.’

  ‘How’s the leg?’

  ‘That’s sore too.’

  ‘You heard about the whales?’

  ‘No, what?’

  ‘I might have a way for you to get back in Hannah’s good books. I’m going to mail you a short vid, taken this morning. Fishermen mates of mine took some footage, on their way out to the banks. No time to waste, mind, you need to get this to Hannah.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ll forward it, and come round. Then I can drop you round hers, if you like.’

  ‘What, Goofy, what footage?’