Lies Like Love

by Louisa Reid

  ‘Sue’s downstairs,’ he said, raising his eyebrows, but already pulling up the covers, kicking off his shoes.

  He climbed in next to me and for a while we lay there, side by side, not touching, not talking.

  I looked at his profile. The mess of thick dark hair. The gentle curves of his cheeks and his lips, full but not smiling. His eyes were half closed and thinking; I wondered about what.

  It grew darker. And in the dark everything was easier.

  ‘Leo,’ I whispered.

  ‘Yeah?’ His fingers linked mine, tightening like a lock. It was like other times, better times.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said, because I couldn’t tell him to kiss me or hold me or touch me. Too shy to speak, I touched his face and put my head on his chest, trying to mend the pieces of myself that were all undone. His breathing was slow, easy, his arms tight and strong.

  ‘You make me better,’ I whispered, and he put his hands in my hair, pulling my face to his and kissing away my fear.

  ‘You too,’ he said. ‘I wish we could be like this always, never have to get out of this bed, just hide up here. Forget the rest of the world even exists. I’d keep you safe forever, Audrey.’

  I kissed him back, because I loved him and he was good and I didn’t want to stop. His hands touched my body. I touched his.

  ‘It’s boiling under here,’ he said, kicking off the covers and moving away from me, just a fraction. The windows were steamed up. The air hot.

  ‘So?’ I whispered.

  ‘So, maybe I should go back to my own bed.’ He avoided my eye. Something had changed. Even if he didn’t know it, he saw me differently now. The Thing had ruined us.

  ‘Or not.’ He lay back down, played with my hair, touched my cheek.

  ‘OK. I don’t mind if you stay.’

  ‘I will. But we can’t do anything. Not that I don’t want to. Just that, I think we should wait.’ Because you’re not right. Because you scare me. Because I don’t know what you might do to yourself and I don’t want to be blamed.

  I nodded and tried to smile and wondered how to show him that it wasn’t my fault.

  Leo

  The piano arrived a week after Audrey moved in. They stood on the drive watching the guys unload it.

  ‘Careful,’ he couldn’t help saying, and Audrey bumped his shoulder with her own.

  ‘They’re the experts, Leo. Don’t worry – look, they’re bringing it inside.’

  He dragged one of Sue’s kitchen chairs into the living room as soon as the piano was installed; he sat down, flexed his fingers.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘I may be some time.’ He released a flurry of notes and before long Leo had forgotten where he was or who was listening, and as the piano sang back to him the feelings he poured into its keys he felt lighter, better, at peace.

  Sue and Audrey gave the standing ovation.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re that good,’ Sue said. ‘Your dad did say, but I thought he was exaggerating.’

  ‘Dad said?’

  ‘Of course; he was always boasting.’

  Leo grimaced and stood up, indicating Aud should take the chair.

  ‘First lesson time,’ he said. ‘We’ll learn “Chopsticks”. Duet. Right?’

  ‘Cool.’ She was in the seat before he had time to blink and for the next hour they made a lot of noise. Turned out Aud was tone deaf, but so what? He’d guessed as much from her singing on the Tube and if anything it made him like her even more; every time she hit a bum note she just shrugged and tried again, persevering, determined, her tongue caught between her teeth, brow set in concentration.

  ‘Your mum’s ace, Leo,’ Audrey said over dinner. ‘You’re lucky.’

  He nodded and Sue agreed.

  ‘Call her later. Skype, introduce Audrey. It’s about time, Leo.’

  Sue was right. There was nothing to hide and he wanted his mother to approve. It was all he’d ever wanted, he realized, and he had a feeling she wouldn’t let him down.

  Audrey

  Leo’s Mum was gorgeous. I don’t know why I was surprised. She called for his dad the second she saw me sitting there beside Leo, and for the next fifteen minutes she talked, in this beautiful voice, sweet as a song. Her smile was perfect, her skin bright and glowing, her hair shiny, black, cut into a sharp, chic bob. How was I? she asked, her eyes, even darker than Leo’s, staring at me from out of the screen. Had I settled in? Was there anything I needed or anything she or her husband could do? Was Leo being good to me? I smiled and stuttered. I hadn’t prepared for this. I’d imagined harder questions, about my ambitions and my IQ. I stammered my answers until Leo intervened.

  ‘Mum, chill. Aud’s fine.’

  But they continued to be charming. How lovely it was to talk to me at last; how lovely I was. Could they entice me over to Hong Kong with Leo for a visit? I nodded and Leo nudged me sharply with his elbow.

  When Leo finally said goodbye and turned off the computer, I stared at him.

  ‘I am in love with your mother.’

  ‘She has that effect on everyone.’ He half laughed, pulling me closer. ‘Next time it may not be quite so easy,’ he warned.

  ‘Stop it, Leo. I didn’t think she’d be so nice. And your dad. I like them both. And I’ll definitely come to Hong Kong.’ I squeezed his hand.

  ‘Good. Well, that’s a plan, then,’ he said, and I liked the sound of that.

  It was the end of January and the farmhouse got surprisingly chilly in the evenings, so I used it as an excuse to go up to Leo’s room and lie with him on his bed, just to keep warm. I loved his room; it was in the eaves and you had to crouch to avoid the sloping walls and ceilings. His windows were carved into the roof. The walls were plastered with posters; some looked ancient, like they’d been there forever, others were newer. Everything was tidy and perfectly in order. Apart from the books scattered by his bed, spilling off the bedside table on to the floor, and the photographs of his family pinned up all over the wall – people I’d never met and he rarely talked about – covering every surface. A gorgeous girl with long dark hair hung from his arm in one picture, wearing an evening dress and glittery jewellery. She looked so sophisticated, so glamorous. Leo looked happy too. He’d never mentioned her and I’d never asked much about that bit of his past. Part of me wanted to tear the picture in two; instead I didn’t let myself look.

  I spotted something I’d not seen before among the collage of posters and pictures. It was the drawing of me that Jen had started, months ago, half finished, pinned up there.

  ‘You nicked that.’ I pointed at it. He acted innocent.

  ‘I didn’t. Jen said I could have it.’

  ‘Hmm. Well, I’ll be checking with her. Otherwise, I think you’ll find it’s stolen property.’

  ‘You’ll have to fight me for it,’ he said, pinning me to the bed so I couldn’t move. He collapsed beside me and we lay listening to music turned down very low and reading. Leo was studying some old poet and sometimes he read his favourite lines aloud, putting on funny voices, and I’d laugh into the duvet. Later he explained Hamlet and agreed he’d been a dick to Ophelia when I pointed this out.

  ‘Plus it’s too sad,’ I said. ‘They all die.’

  ‘Well, it’s tragedy, isn’t it? What do you expect?’ There was no arguing with that. Still, I’d have a go.

  ‘Cruel though. Shakespeare must have been a bit of a sadist, killing all his characters off like that.’

  He grinned. ‘That’s one perspective. But don’t blame him; he’s just the writer. It’s what the genre requires.’

  And no arguing with that either.

  ‘How did you get to be so into all this anyway?’

  Leo folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

  ‘Well, I guess I have to give my mother credit where credit’s due. When I was really little she took me to see plays, comedies mainly, in the college gardens around Cambridge in the summer. You’d have liked it. No one dies in comedy, not that I
can think of. But you get a lot of love triangles, all that girly stuff.’ I poked him in the ribs and he pretended to be hurt – rolling on the bed in mock agony. Using it as an excuse to grab me, hold me.

  ‘Go on, tell me more.’ My head on his chest, he continued. I listened to his heart as he breathed. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.

  ‘We’d have a picnic. Her friends would be there, and other little kids. I got caught up in it, loved the atmosphere: the thickness of the trees, fairy lights glinting in the dusk, all the magic brewing. The words. And Bottom, mostly.’

  ‘Bottom?’

  ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’ll be on somewhere this summer. We’ll go.’

  ‘OK. OK. So, I get it. It’s nostalgia, is it, that makes you love these plays? Cos of the old days, being with your mum?’

  ‘No. No. Only a little. It’s the stories. The language. Magnificent. Unforgettable. Like you.’

  That really made me laugh, and Sue banged on the wall, calling that she was trying to get to sleep.

  Leo carried on talking, in a whisper though. We could sit up all night, gossiping and dreaming like this, but now Leo talked about spring. The things we’d do in the spring. He had a long list.

  ‘First I’ll take you to the coast. The first bright day we have, Aud. It’ll be early though, I’ll warn you now. But no yawning and trying to wriggle out of it. We’ll drive out there and we’ll take a boat and go out to sea. And then we’ll see the seals. You’ll love it. I promise, cross my heart. I won’t let you fall in. No need to be afraid.’ He put his hand on his chest and then mine, drew the mark. I held his hand.

  ‘Are you feeling all right? Do you think the medication is helping now?’ Leo asked.

  ‘Yeah. I am.’ I felt clearer, more awake. Like the world wasn’t quite so jagged, not so full of sharp edges. Leo didn’t need to know I never swallowed the pills he thought he saw me taking.

  ‘What about the therapy?’

  ‘Yeah, in a couple of days. So don’t worry, OK?’

  ‘Sure, OK.’ Leo got up and stretched and booted me back to my own bed.

  The next day I stood outside the primary school at lunchtime and stared through the thick green netting at my brother playing football in the playground. That was the closest I could get. At least they were letting him play now, and he was shouting to one of his little friends to pass.

  ‘Over here,’ he yelled. The ball was kicked his way and I held my breath as he caught it clumsily and dribbled towards the goal. I smiled, narrowed my eyes, squinting into the hard winter sun as Peter was tackled but kept the ball and ran forward, taking aim. He walloped it as hard as his little leg could manage, and then as the ball swung wide, missing completely, he swore, his mouth twisted with rage, and lashed out with a fist, punching the air with a look on his face I’d never seen before. I didn’t know he knew words like that. I wanted to go and help and soothe, but the fence barred my way and I couldn’t comfort him like I had when he was a toddler and would fall, scraping a knee or a palm. I remembered kissing him better, flicking out grit, not sure where I’d learned how to do that.

  The bell rang and the boys began streaming back inside. I waited, hoping to catch him.

  ‘Peter,’ I yelled through the fencing, following along on the outside. He pretended not to hear.

  ‘Pete, wait, hang on. I just want to talk to you.’ But he wouldn’t stop, ran past me, slamming into other children, pushing his way forward as if my voice made no noise.

  I caught up with Leo in the corridor before the last lesson. He was decisive.

  ‘Well, why don’t you go round? See him.’

  ‘But what if –’

  ‘So what if she’s there? She can’t stop you from seeing your brother, Aud. You want me to come?’

  ‘No. I’ll be fine. Thanks.’ There were things I had to do alone. I hadn’t managed to see Peter once since I’d moved into the farm. It couldn’t go on. Mum had to let me see him and explain, and I had to start taking care of him again. He needed me and I needed him. And there were so many questions I needed him to answer. Like, how was he feeling? Was he all right? Had he had breakfast, lunch, dinner? Was Mum reading him stories? Helping with his homework, taking him to parties and the park? Running his bath? Face it, Aud, I thought. You know the answer to those questions. You need to sort this and sort it now.

  Walking back into the Grange felt strange. The front door was open, as always, as if it had been ready and waiting all this time and the smell from the moat followed me inside, dank and dirty.

  I banged on the door of the flat.

  ‘Peter?’ I called. ‘Pete?’ I cursed the fact I didn’t have a key.

  But there wasn’t a sound; nothing stirred. And I walked away with a heavy sinking feeling in my stomach, like milk thickening and curdling, churning and sour.

  I went back again the next day, Leo with me this time. Treading those stairs, I knew I had to be brave. And my legs were so much stronger, my wrists almost healed. I was going to Dr Caldwell in the morning to get the dressings changed. Maybe she’d leave them off altogether.

  The door was locked again. I rattled the handle.

  It was obvious Peter was in there. I could almost feel him, on the other side of the door, and it drove me crazy.

  ‘Please, Peter, open up. Let us in. I want to talk to you. I want to check everything’s all right. I want to hang out for a bit.’ I scratched at the wood like an animal. ‘Or you could come out, come back to the farm with me and play football with Leo. It’ll be OK, if Mum comes, I’ll deal with her. I promise.’

  There was movement. A stirring. We waited, holding our breath. And then a piece of paper slid under the door, and written on it in sprawling spidery capitals were the words: GO A WAY.

  ‘I guess that’s another no, then,’ Leo said, turning to go.

  ‘We can’t leave him here.’ I pulled him back by his sleeve, still staring at the bit of paper.

  ‘Why? He doesn’t want to come out, Audrey, so give him a bit of time to get over it. He’s still upset.’

  ‘I know. That’s the problem. I’m worried. He’s five, Leo. He can’t just be left alone. He shouldn’t even be on his own.’ I banged on the door again.

  ‘We could call the police? Social services?’

  ‘What? I can’t do that.’ Was he taking the piss? Leo shrugged and leant against the wall.

  ‘Right, well, I’ll break it down, then.’

  ‘You can’t. Stop being ridiculous.’ I shot him a look to shut him up. ‘Pete, Peter. Come on, this is silly. Please open the door, mate. I love you, I do. Please.’

  After another long silence, I leant my head against the door frame. ‘Please,’ I whispered into the wood, ‘Please, Peter. Don’t hate me.’

  ‘You can’t do anything, Aud,’ Leo said as he put his arm round my shoulders and pulled me away from the door.

  ‘He’s my brother. I can’t abandon him.’

  ‘You’re not. You’re there if he needs you. You’ve shown him that. He knows where we are, right? And I guess Lorraine’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Yeah, I s’pose, we’ll wait till then.’

  Mum passed us on the stairs. She didn’t even look my way, like I was finally invisible. And then we walked home, treading across the boggy field, thick with January rain. I tried not to think about Peter, not to turn back, not to look again. But if it hadn’t been for Leo, I would have run straight home.

  Leo

  Spring wasn’t far away. Leo had a feeling everything would be all right in the spring, and he had made a heap of plans for things Audrey and he would do: first the trip to the coast and the seals, then maybe the theatre in London – Shakespeare, perhaps, something fun. There were concerts too, and cafes and exhibitions, gigs, and the dream of a holiday to Paris or New York – or even Hong Kong, like his mother had suggested. After school Sue picked him up and drove him to town. Audrey wasn’t the only one who was still seeing someone. He told Graham about the plan with the seals, how he kne
w it was something Audrey would love, and Graham smiled and rubbed his hands together.

  ‘That’s what I call optimism. Good sign.’

  ‘What do you mean, good sign?’

  ‘That you’re doing well, that you’re going to do well from now on. I don’t think we need to see each other any more, do you?’

  ‘No. But I guess I’ll miss you,’ Leo confessed.

  ‘Me too, pal.’ Graham held out his hand and grasped Leo’s. ‘You’ve come a long way. The lad I first saw – what, two years ago? He’s grown.’

  Leo smiled. Graham had strong warm hands. It felt like a handshake between mates.

  ‘Yeah. There’s just one thing,’ Leo said.

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘You know I told you about my girlfriend, Audrey?’

  ‘Sure. The last I heard you two were madly in love.’

  ‘Yes, well. After New Year, you know she, well, she cut herself badly.’ Graham looked thoughtful, sat back and didn’t speak: his tactic when he wanted Leo to keep talking. So Leo explained how Aud was staying at the farm, how well she seemed, that she wanted to see her brother and her mum was being difficult, what he could do to help.

  ‘Sounds to me like you’re doing all the right things, Leo. She’s seeing someone about her issues, yes?’

  ‘Yes, but she doesn’t tell me about it. The thing is, I don’t think she’ll stay. I’m scared she’ll leave – go back there.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘The Grange. Her mum’s place.’

  ‘And what if she did?’ Graham tipped his head to one side, looked as confused as Leo felt.

  ‘That’s what I don’t know. But I’m scared to find out.’

  Audrey

  The next morning I woke up with cramps in my belly. My first thought was that this was it. That I really was sick, that Mum had been right and there was something terribly, awfully wrong with me. With my body this time, not my brain. And then I got up and went to the bathroom and saw the faint pink stain on the toilet paper.

  My period. At last.

  The sign that I was like other girls. Changing, growing up. Better late than never, I thought as I washed my face and brushed my teeth, staring in the mirror, seeing just me. Audrey. No Thing to grimace back at me, to leer and laugh and mock.