Lies Like Love

by Louisa Reid

  ‘Oh, just stop with the drama, Aud. Get your bag. Or do I have to pack it for you?’

  ‘I mean it. I’ll tell Sue, I bet she’ll have me a bit longer. When I’m sorted Peter can come and live with me.’ I frowned. Peter was the only part of the plan that didn’t work; he wouldn’t understand. My dad had left me, but I wouldn’t leave him. I rubbed my forehead. I’d have to go round every day, at least, just to hang out. And make sure he came over to the farm at the weekends. He could sleep over when Mum was on nights and I could still walk him to school and pick him up at the end of the day. It might work.

  ‘You’re being ridiculous,’ Mum said.

  I took a deep breath. Standing up to her, finding the strength to fight back – it took a lot and I was already tired. But she couldn’t win this one, no matter how hard she tried to wear me down.

  ‘I’m not. Face it, Mum. Things have got to change. We can’t be like this any more. You can’t wreck everything. You can’t lie about people.’

  She approached me and took me by the shoulders, her hard bright nails digging into my skin. Her eyes grabbed mine. They were vicious, angry. Her mouth was a slick red line drawn tight over her teeth.

  ‘Mum, I will tell them everything unless you let me go.’ The words, the threat. What did I mean? Somewhere inside me, deep in all the things I’d forgotten, the dark patches of my heart, the grey tunnels of my brain, I knew. It was finding the words and acknowledging the pain. That was the hardest, and my legs swayed and almost gave way. I ran to the bathroom, getting there just in time, before I began to throw up, heaving and retching, shivering and hot all at once. I didn’t look up when the door creaked open or when Mum sat on the side of the bath, waiting for me to finish.

  ‘What a mess you’re in,’ she said. ‘Come home; come on, Aud.’ I retched again when she touched me.

  ‘I’m not going, Mum,’ I whispered. ‘Leave me alone.’ Mum looked at me for a long time and then nodded.

  ‘All right, then, Audrey. I will.’

  Leo

  Sue didn’t like it that Lorraine was so upset. She told Leo about it when he got home from school; about her flying from the house in a mess.

  ‘I don’t know what’s happened between them, but there’s problems there, Leo. Poor Lorraine. She’s doing her best.’

  ‘Well, they’ll sort it out. Probably best if they get a bit of space.’ Leo bit into his apple and leant against the worktop, considering.

  ‘Yes, I hope so. I hope we’re not interfering.’ Sue turned the page of the newspaper, scanning the articles without really seeing the words.

  ‘We’re not.’

  Audrey came into the room. She was wearing his jumper; it was too long for her, the sleeves covered her bandages and her hands. She stood beside him, very straight, her chin high.

  ‘Is it OK, Sue –’ she cleared her throat – ‘for me to stay for a bit?’

  ‘Course she can, can’t she, Sue?’ Leo said, trying to make this seem casual. Normal.

  Sue frowned and sipped her drink.

  ‘Of course, I’m happy for you to stay for a bit, Audrey, if it’ll help. But try and calm down a bit – think things over. In the long run, it would be better if you could work things out with your mum, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yeah. I guess.’

  ‘How about we see if she wants to come over? One night this week? We can have a meal; you two can talk, sort this out. It’s terrible to leave cross words out there. And I guess she hasn’t got over your New Year’s adventure.’ She frowned. ‘It wasn’t exactly sensible, was it, running off without leaving her any idea of where you’d be? Or me, for that matter.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, we already apologized for that,’ Leo said.

  Sue shot him an exasperated look. ‘I know. But I think Audrey should talk to her mum. She’s got your best interests at heart, like all mums do, rightly or wrongly. And she loves you.’

  ‘Please, don’t make me, not yet,’ Audrey said, and Sue raised her eyebrows, gestured with her hands.

  ‘I can’t make you do anything. I just think she’ll be worried. I’ve seen how she gets, Audrey, so I can understand where you’re coming from and that if you’ve had a row you wouldn’t want to go home just yet, but she’ll calm down. It’s been a very stressful time for all of you.’

  Leo nodded. ‘It’ll be OK, Aud – try not to worry.’ He had no idea what their fight had been about – Audrey wasn’t saying – but if it meant she stayed on a little longer, then he was cool with that.

  ‘Yeah, I guess.’

  Sue finished her tea and Leo saw how she watched them, Audrey especially, as if she were a puzzle she was trying to piece together. Audrey’s smile didn’t seem real though; he guessed what she was doing, trying to look sensible, in control. He’d been there. But inside everything had been coming apart. He tightened his grip on Audrey’s hand.

  ‘OK?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m OK.’ Her smile was watery, like her eyes. Today she was fathomless, inexplicable, and there was no making sense of the sadness.

  Audrey

  That night I overheard Sue on the phone. I should have been asleep, but I was more awake than ever and Sue’s voice came straight through the wall. Blunt and firm.

  ‘Leo’s girlfriend … yes, she’s a nice girl … gentle … but she’s a funny one, there’s something not quite right. She has a lot of problems.’

  There was a long pause. I felt my face burn, my hands shake, and screwed my eyes tight as if then I wouldn’t hear all the horrible things she was going to say about me.

  ‘I’ll let her stay a couple of days. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on them … Yes, I know you do … Yes, all right … but don’t worry, you know how Leo gets. He’s passionate about things; he’s passionate about her … She’s nice, very innocent. I told you.’

  She must have been talking to his dad, maybe his mum. What did they think of me? That I was crazy, weird, unstable. That my family wasn’t nice, that I would hurt their son, drag him down. That I was bad news. No. It wasn’t true; I’d prove them wrong.

  In the morning I tidied away the breakfast things, washed up and tried to help. I hadn’t slept much and my hands still shook, clumsy. A glass slid from my fingers, shattering on the stone floor. I jumped.

  ‘Sorry, I’m so sorry.’ I stared at Sue and she looked back at me, holding up her hands in a shrug.

  ‘It’s OK. Only a glass. Not to worry.’

  ‘I’ll clean it up, pay for another.’

  ‘No, no. I’ll do that,’ said Sue. ‘You rest, Audrey. Go back to bed, don’t overdo things.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I whispered, not meeting her eye.

  ‘Have you thought more about what I said?’ Sue asked, her voice stopping me as I got to the door. ‘About talking to your mum? The offer’s still there for her and Peter to come over for supper some time.’

  ‘No. Thanks. It wouldn’t help. She’s really angry with me, Sue. I don’t think she’d listen.’

  ‘OK. Well, you just think about it. And have a good day; try not to worry. These things usually work out.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I looked out of the window, then back at Sue. She was standing waiting, as if she expected me to say something else. When I didn’t, she did.

  ‘Audrey, you know, I don’t want to pry. And I know you’re seeing the psychiatrist. But you can talk to me, you know, about anything.’

  ‘Thanks, Sue,’ I whispered, and I wished I could talk to her somehow. She was so kind. But the knots in my head were too tight: Mum and Peter and Leo and the Thing, bundled up into a huge confusion. ‘I’ll be OK,’ I said, and shut the door behind me.

  There was no point going back to bed or sitting about at the farm. Leo had gone to school and so would I, but first I wanted to see my brother.

  They knew me at the primary school and when I said I needed to give Peter a message they let me in, all smiles and concerned glances. Of course: Mum would have told them the story. Peter’s teacher passed me in the corridor
and stopped for a moment to tell me how well he’d settled now and that he was making excellent progress at last, although he was still quiet sometimes. A little reserved. Mum ought to hear that. I rubbed at my frown and waited outside Peter’s classroom, but he avoided me, slipping past, and even though I called after him he just ran out into the playground, without looking back.

  So I walked back to college and into the classroom and sat down at my desk like I’d never been away. When people spoke to me – teachers, Jen – I answered them and pretended to smile, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that I’d lost something precious, like I was scouring the woods for a jewel: tiny, hidden under layers of rotting leaves. That unless I found it, it might disappear forever.

  Leo and I found Peter at the end of school, standing outside the primary. When he caught sight of me he stepped away again, moving along the railings.

  ‘Mum’s coming to pick me up,’ he said, turning his back and pulling free when I took his arm. ‘She said I’m not allowed to talk to you.’

  ‘What? Peter, you have to talk to me, please.’

  ‘I can’t, Audrey.’ There were tears in his voice and I reached out again, holding on this time. ‘I told you, I’m not allowed,’ he said, struggling, as prickly as a hedgehog. He was hurting; he thought I’d left him and that I didn’t care.

  ‘Hey,’ said Leo, ‘it’s OK, Pete.’ Leo crouched beside my brother and tried to catch his eye, but Peter turned his head away, squirming out of my arms.

  ‘I’m not allowed to talk to you or go round to the farm or even say your name.’

  ‘So Mum’s cross, then, is she?’ I said, trying to lighten the mood, which was stupid, and my stupid smile didn’t help either.

  Peter nodded and turned and looked at me properly for the first time; he was pale, his cheeks were a harsh red, his eyes bright with tears and anger. ‘You left me, Aud, and I don’t like it on my own.’

  And then he ran away from me, dodging through the cars to the other side of the street to meet Mum, who’d just pulled up and was watching us. Peter ran round the car and got into the front and, as I stepped out to follow, they pulled away.

  ‘Shit,’ I said. ‘Shit.’

  ‘That’s about the only word for it,’ Leo agreed as he put his arm round my shoulders and pulled me away from the kerb, away from the sight of my brother disappearing into the distance.

  I needed Peter. I needed him to forgive me. It was hard to think of how to make that happen. He and I were a team. We managed things together. Who would help him with homework – check spellings and the sums he was just starting to manage, read in the evenings, watch TV when Mum was out? Stand in goal for hours, watch the world, collect the memories and store them safe?

  I needed him and lots of other things. I needed my life and my future and to feel strong again. I needed legs of steel but I was weak.

  ‘When will she be at work?’ Leo asked as we walked back home along the embankment towards the farm. I tried to work it out. But I never knew where Mum was or what she’d be doing next.

  ‘I’ll do anything I can to help, Aud. You do know that, don’t you?’

  ‘What can we do about Peter, Leo? What are we going to do about him?’

  ‘He’ll be all right, won’t he? Your mum’s not weird about him too, is she?’

  I thought about it. She wasn’t. Peter was OK. But then I remembered all the nights Mum wasn’t there and saw Peter on his own, in the big, empty building full of whispering shadows; I knew how he hated being alone. He might forget to turn off the oven or be confused about the heating and sit in the cold. He would be scared. I scrunched up my eyes, wiped at my nose with my sleeve.

  ‘Come on, Aud. Try not to worry. Let’s plan something, something fun. And let’s try and get Pete to come too.’

  ‘All right, thanks.’ I thought I’d be so happy. Free from the Grange, from the Thing. But the euphoria hadn’t come; the Trafalgar Square feeling was lost. I felt empty, dull.

  ‘Good, how about this weekend? We could see what’s on at the cinema or something – a cartoon or something Pete might like. Sue’ll give us a lift.’ Leo talked on, planning where we’d go and what we’d do. But in my head all I could see was Mum’s car and Peter’s face at the window, thin and sad, caught behind glass. Where I’d always been.

  A bag of my things was waiting on the doorstep of the farmhouse. My stuff, almost all of it, parcelled up in a binbag as if I were rubbish Mum was ready to chuck out. Along with Madison and Winnie the Pooh.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Leo, eyeing the doll as I began to unpack, placing things in drawers, not sure, not certain, wondering if they’d be better left in the bag, ready for when I had to leave. The thought of staying longer than another day, a night, of leaving Peter that long … What if something happened?

  Leo picked up the doll, staring at her stupid face. He waggled an arm, then made her do a stupid dance.

  ‘Nothing. Mum gave it me for Christmas.’ But even as I said it I started to cry. Mum thought I’d like her. She had only been doing her best. Leo didn’t ask me why I was crying; if he had, I wouldn’t have been able to say.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he whispered over and over until I moved away.

  ‘What?’ he asked, but I couldn’t answer, wiping my face on my sleeve, and buried my face in a jumper that still held the smell of our flat: Mum’s cooking, the washing powder we used, her perfume, her fags. It smelled of home and maybe home didn’t smell that good, but it was still all I had. I’d left Peter.

  ‘Come downstairs, come on,’ he said, standing by the door. But I didn’t move.

  ‘Sorry,’ I whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’ And Leo walked away and left me on my own.

  You dream of things like being free. But free is a trick. I’d been knit to Mum so long, my skin wound and bound with hers, that to pull away left edges unravelling, my body fraying. And it hurt to be torn like that, to have pieces of me missing. I crawled into the bed and tried to hold myself together. I thought about them, Mum and Peter. Wondered what they were doing, how she would explain to my brother. If she would be fair. If Peter would understand.

  Leo

  Sue was preparing the dinner and Leo went to join her. He picked up the peeler and started on the carrots. Usually this was easy; she’d ask him about his day, then they’d talk about something she’d heard on Radio 4, or whether or not she should take Mary to the vet again. The dog was getting old. It was a sort of shared stream of consciousness; whatever came into their heads, they blurted it out. Tonight was different; his aunt was quiet for a long time. Then it burst out of her.

  ‘You’ll have to talk to your mother.’

  He hadn’t thought about that and didn’t see why.

  ‘You do it, if you’re bothered, Sue.’

  ‘I already did. She wasn’t pleased. You should ring her and explain things.’ It occurred to Leo that maybe Sue was as scared of his mother as he was. No, not scared, that was the wrong word. Wary. That fitted better. She was hard to handle and difficult to argue down.

  ‘She doesn’t need talking to. Plus, I don’t want to go there. You know what she’s like.’

  ‘Yes.’ Sue drew the word out, elongating the vowel.

  ‘Audrey’s a house guest. It’s none of my mother’s business who stays in your house.’

  ‘Hmm. Unless that house guest also happens to be your girlfriend, Leo.’

  ‘Whatever. I’m almost eighteen.’ He put down the last carrot and started to chop fast with the sharp knife.

  ‘Anyway, she won’t be staying long, will she?’ Sue said. ‘I’m sure they’ll make up. They’re close, those two.’

  Too close. That was part of the problem. Leo wanted to keep her as long as he could, but already it felt like she was ready to go. Her mind was fixed anywhere but here, on the present, with him. Leo couldn’t climb inside her head and switch off all the other buttons though; he couldn’t reprogram her to be happy. She wouldn’t let him help, or even understand. Still, he’d wait
.

  Later, the kitchen full of heat and the smell of supper, he called upstairs.

  ‘Audrey, dinner’s ready.’

  She didn’t answer. Leo stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs, listening, but it wasn’t a surprise when she didn’t come. He got the feeling that she’d already slipped away.

  Audrey

  Of course Mum hadn’t brought the paper bird or my hearts. Not my rose or the superhero either. I wondered if she’d found them; I could see her going through my things, sniffing out all my secrets, poring over my life, trying to pull me back to the Grange.

  I walked downstairs later, after Sue and Leo had had their dinner, and asked if I could use the phone.

  ‘Sure,’ Leo said, looking up and smiling. ‘Go ahead.’

  I dialled Mum’s mobile number but it rang and rang. I’d wanted to get away. Now I wanted to hear her voice. Aud, she’d say, what are you playing at, Aud? I love you, come home, everything’s different now. I’m sorry, I made a mistake. You’ll be safe here with me. I was just angry, upset. Why wouldn’t she pick up? I needed to hear those words and speak to my brother, just to say goodnight. Just to say I’d be back soon.

  I went back to bed. It was another hour before there was a tap on the door, very soft; so quiet that it wouldn’t have woken me if I’d been asleep. I couldn’t think about Mum. I had to think about now, the future, and what I was running towards. I still had Leo. That was something. That was a very big something.

  ‘Come in.’ I sat in my nightie with the covers pulled up to my chin.

  ‘Hi,’ Leo said, putting his head round the door. ‘Are you asleep?’

  ‘Does it look like it?’

  ‘Well, no. Good.’

  He sat on the side of the bed. I moved forward, crawled over the duvet, reached for his hand. ‘I’m really sorry.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For being weird. All kinds of weird.’

  Leo started to laugh. ‘I thought you knew I liked weird? I thought we’d clarified that some time ago.’

  ‘Leo, I really like you. I mean, I like you more than I like anyone in the world.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Right, then. Come here,’ I told him, jumping back under the covers. ‘Get in.’