The Words That Fly Between Us

by Sarah Carroll

  He just said that he got money off Dad! I double-check that the light on my phone is still red. It is.

  Mr Reynolds goes on, talking about Dad going bankrupt and BBR taking The Old Mill off his hands. Someone blows out air like he’s impressed.

  ‘Reynolds, you’re a legend,’ one man says.

  There are a few sighs and a few chuckles, then a clinking of glasses. ‘Cheers,’ they say together.

  ‘Now, gentlemen, I trust that settles all concerns?’

  ‘And then some,’ someone says.

  ‘Well, then, if you’d like to make your way upstairs, I will be with you in a moment.’

  The other men take a few seconds to finish up. Then they move away from the table and walk through the vault. Once they start climbing the stairs, Mr Reynolds walks around to this side of the table. He stops right beside me. He opens his safe, drops something into it, slams it shut and then leaves.

  I watch him go through the vault. He climbs the stairs. Closes the door.

  I wait.

  Time passes and I hear nothing from upstairs. I crawl out and sprint back through the room until I have reception. A text comes through from a few minutes ago.

  Megan

  Are you okay?!!

  They just went into the Local.

  My heart is racing and my hands are shaking, but I’m okay.

  What’s more, I think I have a gun.

  Me and Megan are back in my attic huddled on the beanbag and we’ve just listened to the voice recording on my phone for the third time.

  ‘He definitely says the words, along with the ten million that I received from Fitzsimmons yesterday,’ Megan says. ‘You have it.’

  I have proof Dad did something illegal.

  ‘So, what now?’ she says.

  We both look at the phone sitting on the floor.

  ‘No idea,’ I say.

  A gun would probably be more useful to me than this. I mean, it’s proof that my dad did something illegal, right? So that means that my dad’s a criminal now?

  But he can’t be. And if he was, I wouldn’t actually want him to get caught, would I?

  I picture his clenched fist. What would he do if he knew I even had this, let alone if I threatened him with it?

  Still, knowing I have something if I ever do need to use it makes me feel a little better.

  There’s a knock on my bedroom door below. Megan and I scramble out as quickly and quietly as we can and when I’ve closed the ceiling panel, I open the door.

  It’s Mum. She looks wrecked. But not as limp as earlier.

  She smiles, and I see a flicker of brightness in her eyes as if she’s going to tell me something. But then she notices Megan behind me.

  ‘Megan! I didn’t know you were here,’ she says. And when she looks back at me the flicker is gone. ‘Fancy a pizza?’

  She turns and whatever she was going to say leaves with her.

  THURSDAY

  CHAPTER 22

  Megan slept over last night. Now she’s nudging me. I groan and roll over. She nudges me again. When I open my eyes, there’s a phone in front in my face.

  It’s only 8.32.

  ‘Read it,’ she says. ‘It’s another comment.’

  I sigh and sit up.

  How about a new blog called The Penny Behind the Pen, where Penny is this loser with no life who writes blogs that no one reads.

  I hand it back, but Megan says, ‘There are others. Below it.’

  I scroll down and read a few more. The next blog could be about Penny starting school, hoping to find friends, but when she gets there she realizes they’ve all read her pathetic blog and no one will sit beside her! It goes on like that, so many comments that Hazel must have been awake half the night.

  Megan takes her phone back and stares at the screen. ‘So it didn’t work, writing that blog about her. She’s not going to stop, is she?’

  ‘I don’t know, Megan.’ I can’t think about Hazel right now. Because it’s after eight a.m. Dad must be up. That’s assuming he came home. He hadn’t by the time we went to bed. ‘I’m going downstairs to see what’s going on.’

  At the kitchen door, I see Dad. He’s got his back to us. The radio is on. He’s staring into the distance and shaking his head. ‘Jesus,’ he whispers and takes a gulp of coffee. Then he raises it towards the radio and nods.

  The man on the radio is talking about a housing bubble.

  Is Mum okay? Did they have another fight when he got back last night? I go in, startling Dad, and he almost spills his coffee.

  ‘Morning, girls,’ he says.

  Dad’s hand on his coffee mug is so big, it nearly wraps all the way around. I used to love his hands. How strong they were. When I was small, I thought they could fix anything.

  ‘Stealman Brothers bank is collapsing,’ Dad says. He gulps back his coffee then walks into the hall and upstairs.

  Megan lifts her eyebrows but doesn’t risk saying anything. We just get bowls and cereal and start eating.

  The headline on the paper on the counter top says, STEALMAN ON VERGE OF COLLAPSE. The column at the side says, ARE MORE BANKS AT RISK?

  Mum comes downstairs.

  ‘You’re up early, sleep well?’ she says. She’s dressed and I can’t tell from her face if they are still fighting or ignoring each other or pretending that he didn’t nearly hit her yesterday.

  ‘Yeah,’ I lie.

  Dad’s coming back. As he enters the kitchen, Mum bites her bottom lip and buries her head in her handbag.

  ‘Not good at all,’ Dad says as if we are part of the conversation in his head. ‘If Stealmans collapses, it’ll be a domino effect. Then who’ll be investing?’

  Mum doesn’t answer. And by the way they ignore each other, I know they didn’t fight again. Because they are too busy pretending nothing happened.

  Dad grabs his keys. ‘Stupid timing,’ he says and leaves through the back. A few seconds later, Mum makes an excuse and leaves through the front.

  When she’s gone, Megan says, ‘Your parents. They’re like magnets. If they’re not stuck together fighting, they’ve got their backs to each other.’

  My spoon hovers around my chin as I stare at her.

  ‘What?’ she asks.

  ‘That was really good,’ I say. ‘That’s exactly what they’re like.’

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ Megan says through a gob full of cereal. Then she lowers her voice. ‘You okay?’

  I shrug. I feel like I’m standing on top of a wall waiting to see which way I’ll fall.

  The kitchen is quiet while we eat.

  ‘Well,’ she says as she puts her bowl in the dishwasher, ‘I have been dying to know if Lisette has found out about Hazel’s crush on Stephen yet.’

  It takes me a second to figure out what she means. ‘Megan, we are not breaking into Hazel’s house again.’

  She raises her eyebrows until they almost meet her hair line. ‘Why? You broke into Mr Reynolds’s.’

  ‘I know, but . . .’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘I didn’t go through his private things.’

  She laughs. ‘Lucy! You went through his whole house! You recorded his words! That’s much worse!’

  ‘But it’s not . . .’ I stop. Because I realize she’s right.

  Megan looks at the clock. ‘It’s after nine.’ She takes out her phone and rings someone. After a while, she says, ‘No one is answering at Hazel’s house. They are all out.’ And then she stands and gives me a look that means, Let’s go.

  I don’t move.

  ‘Come on, you read those comments this morning,’ she says. ‘And, anyway, I helped you.’

  I shake my head. This is wrong. I know it’s wrong. But Megan’s already out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I listen to her cross the first-floor landing. Then, sighing, I follow.

  When we get to Hazel’s attic, I try to talk her out of it again but she ignores me and drops into Hazel’s house. So I jump down too and place the chair be
neath the ceiling panel while Megan goes downstairs. By the time I catch up with her, she’s on the second-floor landing. I’m about to speak when I hear something. A creak. Like someone rolling over in bed. Megan tiptoes to Hazel’s room and I go to Stefanie’s and stick my head around the door.

  She’s in bed!

  Holding my breath, I creep out and move as fast as I can over to Hazel’s room. ‘Stefanie!’ I mouth and point to her room. Megan just nods, opens the drawer and takes Hazel’s diary out. Didn’t she understand? ‘Megan!’ But I say it too quietly for her to hear.

  She places the diary on the bed and finds the last page. Then she holds up her phone, takes a photo. Quickly and quietly, she replaces the diary. Then she looks at me. ‘Okay!’ she mouths and gives me the thumbs up.

  And we’re creeping back upstairs and climbing into the attic and Stefanie never wakes. It’s too easy, this breaking and entering and stealing. We’re going to get caught.

  ‘We are not doing this again,’ I say. ‘Either of us.’

  But Megan’s giggling in the darkness so I grab her hand and drag her back to my attic. As soon as we get there, Megan sits on the beanbag and drops her phone onto her lap and starts reading.

  Lisette and Stephen got back together!!!

  I’m so upset. I can hardly write. I can’t stop crying.

  After everything he said to me! He told me I wasn’t like other girls. That I was more mature. That he could talk to me easier than he could talk to his best friends!

  We were supposed to meet to go to the violin shop again but he never turned up. I waited until it closed. I texted him three times but he didn’t reply.

  Then I got a text from Lisette that said she’d just got back with Stephen!

  This morning I went in early to orchestra practice so I could find out what was going on, but neither of them were there. Then they turned up late with these big smiles on their faces and everyone knew straight away that they were a couple again. A few of Lisette’s friends actually ran up and hugged her.

  Lisette came up to me at the break. She said Stephen told her that being apart showed him that he was ready to commit. Then she said he told her that he could talk to her easier than he could his best friends!

  She also said Stephen is having a party after the show for the second years, which means I’m not invited.

  I started crying and Lisette got really embarrassed. I knew that she was worried what the others would think because she brought me to the bathroom. She said she was sorry I wasn’t invited but that it was no big deal because once we were in school we’d have different friends anyway. She said that’s the way it is and that I’ll understand when school starts.

  Then she said that we could still hang out on the weekends!

  Break ended and Lisette gave me one of her looks to say I should grow up, and she went back inside.

  And at the end, Stephen saw me but ignored me and they left together holding hands.

  Megan is grinning up at me. ‘I could not have made that up. It’s almost the perfect next blog for Penny.’

  ‘Megan!’ I say.

  ‘What?’ she says, still smiling.

  Why doesn’t she get that it’s private? ‘You can’t post that.’

  The light from the lamp glints in her eyes, like a spark in a fire. ‘Yes, I can.’

  Shaking my head, I look through the darkness of the attics. Each has a panel. A lid keeping secrets locked inside. Until we opened them.

  ‘Come on, Lucy. You’ve seen what she’s writing about me. How is this any worse?’

  I breathe deep. But the air in the attic doesn’t feel free any more. I’m suffocating. ‘It’s not any worse, Megan,’ I say. ‘It’s the same.’ I shake my head as I look down at her. ‘Which makes you as bad as her.’

  Megan’s grin is gone. She looks where I was looking, along the length of the attics, and chews her cheek for a minute. ‘Fine,’ she finally says, spreading her arms wide. ‘Tell me what I’m supposed to do.’

  ‘Stand up to her, face to face,’ I say. But I don’t even know what those words mean now.

  ‘Like you did with your dad?’ she throws back.

  I open my mouth to reply. Then the impact of her words hits me in the stomach. I turn. Dad’s smug face looks down on me from the rafters, daring me to do something.

  ‘Lucy?’ Megan says.

  I don’t reply. I just shrink smaller and smaller, while Dad’s face grows until it fills the whole attic, and the words, Go on, I dare you, get so loud and so big, they make the rafters groan.

  I close my eyes. But he’s there. Always there. Watching me.

  Megan is right.

  I have no idea how to stand up to him.

  CHAPTER 23

  ‘Please come with me?’ Megan says for around the eleventh time.

  She has to babysit her younger brother for a few hours and won’t go until I agree to come with her. But what if Dad comes home early again and they pick up their fight where they left it yesterday? So I send Megan off and sit in the window nook until I finish reading To Kill a Mockingbird.

  Paula is dragging the vacuum down the stairs as she cleans each step. Plonk, pause, plonk, pause. This is the cleanest house in the country. Every speck of dust, every grain of dirt, is sucked away until the air is crisp.

  I turn the book over in my hands. I thought Ms Cusack gave me To Kill a Mockingbird to show me how Scout’s dad stood up for the black man. But now I think that she wanted me to see how wrong Scout was about her neighbour. Maybe Ms Cusack is Boo Radley.

  I go to the conservatory and take out my sketch pad. But instead of drawing, I start writing a letter to Ms Cusack.

  Dear Ms Cusack,

  I want to explain why I left you food. Someone told me that you didn’t have money and I thought that you don’t go out, so I was worried you couldn’t buy food. But you do go out, don’t you? And you do have enough money for food?

  Thank you for To Kill a Mockingbird. The book helped me to see that we can think all sorts of things about people, but we can be very wrong.

  I haven’t read Of Mice and Men yet as things are very complicated at home and I couldn’t concentrate. I will read it soon, though.

  I would really like to meet you sometime. You paint and I like to draw. I came second in the Young Artist of the Year competition. One day, I will tell you the story behind it.

  Lucy Fitzsimmons

  I don’t post it through her letterbox, though. I fold it and slide it into the back of my sketch pad.

  Then I start to draw.

  It’s a woman, painting, with a cat at her legs. I spend a long time getting the arch of her neck and the flow of her skirt right. She’s looking over her shoulder, like she just heard a sound but doesn’t know where it came from.

  Then I start to draw the garden around her. It won’t fit on one page, so I tear out five more and tape them to the first, and I draw bushes and trees and birds and butterflies and a breeze lifting leaves high into the sky.

  After that, I tape another six pages to the first six and I draw a girl, standing in a house, looking out of the window at the woman. The house is sterile. Scrubbed clean. Gleaming. It’s full of sharp corners and cold marble surfaces and steel splashbacks. Only the stains of the unspoken words leave any mark, like grubby fingerprints. I write them lightly on walls and windows. Go on, I dare you. It’s your fault, Alice. I rub them until you can hardly read them. Paula comes in as I’m doing it. She watches me smudge the word, Talentless.

  ‘That woman in your drawing?’ she says. ‘She’s a painter?’

  ‘She’s Ms Cusack.’

  ‘Is she really?’

  ‘Her front door was open. I went in there yesterday. Her house is beautiful.’

  I expect her to give out to me for going in uninvited but she doesn’t. Instead, she says, ‘Yes, it is.’

  I drop my pencil and turn to look up at her. ‘You’ve been in there? You didn’t tell me!’ No wonder she was annoyed when I told her that
Dad said Ms Cusack’s house was a mess.

  Paula smiles. ‘You never asked.’ She points her chin at my picture. ‘She’s good, you know?’

  All this time, Paula could have told me the truth.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I saw her paintings. They’re amazing.’

  ‘No, I mean, she, the woman in your drawing.’

  ‘Oh.’ I look down but Paula says, ‘Lucy, you are talented. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.’

  My drawing blurs a bit. I wipe at my eyes.

  ‘Lucy?’ She waits. But I can’t look at her. I feel her hand on my shoulder. I stay still until finally, she leaves. And it takes a while for my fingers to feel strong enough to pick up the pencil again.

  Every room in the sterile house is the same in my drawing. They go on and on and on. One room leads to another. But there’s no front door. No way out. And every room leads back to the girl, watching the woman in the garden.

  I go back to filling the spaces in the garden with thousands of tiny leaves and my head’s so far away that I don’t notice Mum until she’s in the conservatory. She looks flushed, like she’s been running or something.

  ‘Hi, sweetie! Your father’s not back, is he?’

  I shake my head and she drops her bag on the floor and comes forward. ‘Sorry I’ve been gone all day, I was . . . holy cow!’

  She actually stops walking for a second and then comes up slowly behind me and rests her arms on my shoulders. ‘Lucy, this is incredible.’ She leans over me, close to the drawing. ‘This must have taken you all day!’

  ‘All afternoon,’ I say. In the morning I was breaking into Hazel’s house.

  ‘What’s going on in it, who are they?’

  ‘Just a girl and an old woman.’

  ‘And the old woman is a painter?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I see,’ she says. She rubs my cheek with her thumb. ‘Better get the dinner on. What would you like?’

  ‘Spaghetti bolognese?’