Hide and Secrets
Page 20
‘How are you doing, Kitterbug?’
It’s Dad. He’s still here. My heart swells in my chest. I jump to my feet.
‘I thought you’d run away.’ The words blurt out of me.
Dad gives me a sad smile. I notice, for the first time, the two police officers standing just to one side.
‘They’ve given me five minutes to say goodbye,’ Dad says.
‘Oh. Are you being arrested?’ I ask.
Dad nods.
‘Will you go to prison?’
‘I don’t know.’ Dad hesitates. ‘Whatever happens, I want you to know… you and Bess… that I’ll see you soon.’
‘Will you come home then… after…?’ I can hear the yearning in my voice. ‘Dad?’
His mouth trembles. ‘I’m afraid there’s no way back for your mum and me,’ he stammers. ‘But I want you to meet Julie properly. And get to know your half-brother.’
I stare at him. ‘Finn.’
‘Yes,’ Dad says. ‘Finn. He’s a cute kid…’ He reaches down and kisses my cheek. ‘I love you, Cat.’ He draws away, offers me a final smile, then he turns and lets the two police officers lead him away.
I watch, a dull ache in my stomach as he disappears into the trees. Having him back isn’t what I thought it would be at all. He’s changed too much: Dad 2.0, still the sun, just not burning quite so brightly.
Or maybe it’s me that’s changed.
‘Hey, you,’ Tyler says softly.
I look up. He’s come right up beside me without me noticing. He smiles, the curve of his cheek lit by the lamplight.
‘Would you rather be alone?’ he asks. ‘Cos I can—’
‘I’d like to sit here with you.’ The words fly effortlessly out of me, straight and true. Possibly they’re the most honest words I’ve ever said to him. I smile to myself.
We perch on the wall, side by side.
‘I told the police everything,’ Tyler says. ‘They want to talk to you too, but I’m almost sure they’ll arrest Rik’s Aunt Sandy.’
‘Good,’ I say.
There’s a short pause. ‘My dad’s been freaking out about everything that happened,’ Tyler goes on.
‘That’s funny,’ I say. ‘Because my mum hasn’t.’
Tyler hesitates. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks. ‘Not the fire and all that… but your dad?’
I gaze at his face. The face of my friend. And, suddenly, I know that I’ll survive without Dad back at home.
‘Not really,’ I say, honestly. ‘But I will be.’
‘I guess…’ Tyler makes a face. ‘At least your dad got Bess speaking again.’
‘Nah,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘What happened tonight might have been like… a final trigger, but I’ve been thinking for a while that she was on the verge of talking.’ I pause. ‘Actually, you and your dad, this summer… you’ve really helped her.’
Tyler frowns. ‘What do you mean?’
I shrug. ‘Just that you paid her attention… in a calm way, really listened to her. Which maybe Mum and I haven’t. And that’s what she needed.’
We sit for a moment, letting the night air flow around our faces. The only sound is the low murmur of people’s chatter and the distant hum of traffic.
‘I used to think my dad was amazing,’ I say. ‘People always talk about him smiling and happy. Like, whenever he showed up life was a party. And for having fun he was amazing. But—’ I frown, struggling to find the words I need. ‘But what I realized tonight is that what really matters are the people who spend time with you, letting you be who you are… listening, like you do with Bess. Because…’ I meet his gaze, ‘because unless people are listening, it’s easy to feel that there’s no point speaking.’
Tyler nods slowly. ‘Maybe now isn’t a good time to talk about this, but I wanted you to know that I’ve told Dad I’d like to stay in Devon.’
I stare at him, my stomach turning somersaults. ‘Really?’ I ask.
‘Not in your Barn, obviously,’ he says, quickly. ‘You’ll get that back. But there’s a flat a few miles away we could rent. Dad’s had enquiries about restoring other stuff in the area. And…’ he pauses, ‘it turns out that though I’d like better Wi-Fi, I don’t actually miss anything about London.’
‘Really? I always thought that… that maybe you had a girlfriend back there?’
‘Nah.’ Tyler shifts a bit closer, the golden-brown of his eyes shimmering in the lamplight. ‘Anyway, there’s too much here that I like,’ he says.
I raise my eyebrows. ‘Like what?’
Tyler shakes his head. ‘You know already. And don’t worry – I understand how you feel. You’ve made it clear a million times.’
I frown. ‘How I feel?’
‘Yeah,’ Tyler says. ‘It’s there all the time, the way you… you always pull back.’ He sighs. ‘I get it. You’re just not interested. Not like that.’
What is he talking about?
‘But, even so, I figured that if I don’t say something, I’ll never know for absolutely sure, so tell me. How do you feel?’ He pauses, his eyes locked on mine.
I stare at him, all sounds fading away. All I see is the yearning in his eyes.
‘Cat?’ he whispers. ‘How do you feel about us?’
‘Us?’ I breathe. A million memories flutter through my head. All the times I thought Tyler wasn’t interested. All the times I shrank away, not wanting him to see how much I liked him. ‘There’s an us?’ I whisper, tilting my face towards his.
A tiny smile curves around Tyler’s lips. And, as he leans forward and kisses me, I feel his smile flow, easy as the sea, into mine.
39 THREE WEEKS LATER
8:25 a.m. and the bus drops me at the end of the road. I smooth down my new uniform as I get off and stroll self-consciously to the school gates. I’m trying to look calm and confident, but my stomach is a bundle of knotted rope, tightening with every step. At least I like the clothes for Buckton Stanleigh Academy. There’s no special stuff with a logo you have to buy, like there was at my last school, just a navy skirt to the knee, a plain white shirt and a navy cardigan or jumper. In fact, until half an hour ago I was super-excited at the prospect of coming here… a new school means the chance to reinvent myself, to make friends and leave all the misery from my old school behind.
But now I’m actually here, my legs are shaking and my mouth is dry.
I reach the school gates. I’m early and there are only a few other students strolling past. None of them pay me much attention. I lean against the wall beside the gate railings, trying to build up the courage to go in. Mum offered to drop me here this morning, but didn’t make a fuss when I said I’d rather come alone.
She wouldn’t have done either of those things before the summer.
I’m kind of regretting not being able to hide out in her car right now, but I can’t blame Mum for that. She’s been great the past few weeks. Not only did she keep her promise to get a dog – a gorgeous brown crossbreed that Bess immediately named Rescue – but she’s also spent hours playing with the pair of them, helping Bess find her voice again. In fact, Bess is talking more and more now, doing better every day. She even started back at primary school this week.
Mum hasn’t just given Bess what she needs. She’s really listening to me as well. She actually cleared out the spare room so that I could move into it. It’s so brilliant, I love it, with plenty of space for all my sewing and a proper double bed next to a huge walk-in closet.
Mum’s sold or given away most of the ornaments and crystals and stuff that were in the room before. She’s cleared out the attic too. I couldn’t believe she was prepared to do that, but she said all the clutter was weighing her down. She’s also cut back on her posh clients and given up her plans to rent out the Barn to high-paying guests. Instead, she’s going to use it as a retreat for people who need ‘somewhere safe and welcoming to heal’. It won’t make anywhere near as much money as she’d originally intended, but Mum says it will help her get back to the sp
iritual side of her astrology.
‘I left that stupid TV show all those years ago in order to reconnect with that aspect of myself,’ she told me with a sigh, ‘and I was so much happier as a result. But then, after your dad left, I lost the connection again. Now I’ve got it back. For good this time.’
I don’t really understand what she means, but what I do know is that for the first time in ages she’s prepared to take what I want into account. For instance, she let me leave the school I hated. We had a long talk about that and I told her how unhappy I’d been, how much I wanted a fresh start. She did some research and suggested I came here, to Buckton Stanleigh Academy. It’s smaller than my last school, but they have a great art department that includes a Practical Creatives room with a couple of sewing machines alongside the woodworking benches and photography equipment. I’ll even be able to work on my dress designs as part of my coursework.
A girl walking past squeals with laughter, bringing me back to the school gates. The pavement is crowded with people now. The girl who laughed is now grinning at the mixed group beside her. She’s wearing a beautiful jade-green coat over her school uniform.
I’m planning on making a coat this autumn myself, in my beautiful new bedroom. I glance around nervously. I just hope I’ll make some friends here. At least I’ve got Tyler now. And Dad.
In the end, the police decided not to press charges against Dad. It helped that he told them everything he knew about Rik – and Sandy, who’s been arrested herself now. Once he was free, Dad visited us. He explained he’s planning to move back to Devon and find a new home for him and Julie and Finn. Julie’s already applying for nursing jobs and Dad says he’s going to get work either as a painter and decorator or running a boat-hire business.
I’m pleased, I guess, but not in the way I imagined I would be. After everything that’s happened it’s going to take a while to get used to Dad being in our lives again, to trust that he won’t lie or disappear again.
Last week Mum drove me and Bess all the way to Norfolk to see Dad and to meet Julie and Finn properly. I could tell Mum had to make a big effort to do all that, but it went okay. Julie was really nice. There was even a moment when Dad started crawling around making silly animal noises, with Finn and Bess on his back. We were all laughing and I saw Mum and Julie look at each other and I don’t know what they were both thinking, but it was obvious that they knew because they smiled at each other and, after that, Mum relaxed.
Later, Dad took me out sailing. It was good, having that time with him on our own, but I was glad in the end to go back to the house so that Mum and Bess and I could get into our car and drive home.
‘Hey, Cat!’ A familiar voice jumpstarts me out of my memories.
I look up. The school gates are busy now, lots of girls and boys swarming past. To my astonishment, Cindy Cho is standing in front of me. She’s wearing the same Buckton uniform of navy skirt and white shirt as I am – and a super-surprised expression on her face.
‘Hi!’ My jaw drops. ‘Cindy! What are you doing here?’
Cindy smiles, creating a dimple in her cheek. I smile back, not just because I’m pleased to see her, but because that dimple reminds me of how much fun we had when we were friends.
‘Oh, my days, it’s so weird seeing you here,’ Cindy says, still smiling. ‘I begged Mum and Dad to let me switch schools at the end of last term. I know a couple of the girls here. I live just around the corner, remember?’
‘Of course I remember.’ The smile fades from my face. If Cindy is here, now, with a bunch of new friends, then chances are I’m going to be just as much of an outcast as I was before, in our old school.
‘This is such a coincidence,’ Cindy goes on, running a nervous hand through her sleek black ponytail. Her smile is faltering now, too. ‘I had no idea you’d be here.’
‘No, well, you wouldn’t, would you?’ The words shoot out of me harsher than I mean them to. I grimace, my cheeks burning.
Cindy frowns. ‘I… I just mean that we lost touch, so…’
‘We didn’t exactly lose touch,’ I point out. ‘You stopped wanting to have anything to do with me. And you went out and got yourself a new bestie to go to parties with – Delilah Jenkins.’
Cindy’s mouth gapes. ‘What?’ she says, indignantly. ‘You’re the one who stopped wanting to be friends with me. I tried really hard after your dad, but you didn’t want to know… And I’m not friends with Delilah. I hated that school after we stopped being friends. And Delilah only invited me along to that stupid party so she could come to my house and hang out with my brother who, by the way, doesn’t like her any more than I do.’
There’s a pause. Traffic is building up by the school entrance, teenagers of all shapes and sizes swarming past. Cindy shifts her backpack from one shoulder to the other.
I stare at her. Tyler’s words about me keeping my distance echo in my head. Maybe Cindy really did only back off because she thought I was pulling away myself.
Maybe I did pull away.
‘Your brother always was cool,’ I say, grinning at her.
Cindy glances at me, her expression wary. The corners of her lips twitch, the faintest hint of a fresh smile.
‘I didn’t know you were crushing on Jin?’
My eyes widen. ‘No, I’m not, I wasn’t,’ I reply quickly. ‘I mean, he’s great but I… I’m with someone…’ I trail off, feeling self-conscious.
‘Ooh, tell me.’ Cindy’s smile broadens, her dimple reappearing. ‘Hey, was it that gorgeous guy sitting next to you on the bus the other day? What’s his name? Does he come to school here?’
‘Yes, he’s called Tyler,’ I say, feeling the heat rise in my face as I say his name. ‘And no, he goes to a school a few miles away, but we see each other at weekends and a couple of times in the week too.’ I smile, filling with the warm glow that thoughts of Tyler always bring me.
‘Wow,’ Cindy says. We gaze at each other.
‘It’s really nice to see you,’ I say.
‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘You too. Shall we go in and find our form room?’ She turns to face the school, a huge red-brick building.
‘So how was your summer?’ she asks, as we walk through the main gates. ‘Mine was kind of boring.’
‘As it happens,’ I say with a grin, ‘mine was anything but.’
‘Ooh, tell me,’ Cindy urges.
And, as we cross the tarmac together, with the sun on our faces and excited chatter rising in the air around us, I launch into my story.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
With thanks to Moira Young, Gaby Halberstam, Julie Mackenzie, Melanie Edge – and, especially, Lou Kuenzler.
More from the Author
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The Medusa Project Collection
Casting Shadows
Burning Bright
Falling Fast
The Medusa Project: Hit Squad
Keep reading for a preview of
Girl, Missing
by
Sophie McKenzie
WHO AM I?
Who am I?
I sat at the computer in Mum’s office and stared at the essay heading. New form teachers always give you homework like that at the start of the year.
Who am I?
When I was younger it was easy. I’d just write down obvious stuff like: I am Lauren Matthews. I have brown hair and blue eyes.
But now we’re supposed to write about what interests us. Likes and dislikes. Who we are ‘inside’.
I needed a break.
I texted my friend Jam. hw u dng w/ stpd ‘who am i’ thng?
A minute later he texted back: We are sorry to inform you that James ‘Jam’ Caldwell died from boredom while working on his homework earlier tonight.
I laughed out loud. Jam always cheers me up. Some of the girls in my class tease me about him. Make out he’s my boyfriend. Which is like the stupidest thing ever. Jam and I have been friends since Primary.
Who am I?
I put my head in my hands.
How can anyone work out who they are, unless they know where they come from?
And I have no idea where I come from.
I was adopted when I was three.
* * *
A minute later and Mum was calling from downstairs. ‘Lauren. Tea’s ready.’
I raced down, glad to get away from the essay.
I didn’t get away from it for long.
‘How’s the homework going?’ Mum asked, prodding something in a frying pan.
‘Mmmn,’ I mumbled.
‘For goodness’ sake, Lauren,’ Mum sighed. ‘Why can’t you speak properly?’
I looked at her. Same old Mum. Short. Bony. Thin-lipped.
I look nothing like her.
I spoke very clearly and slowly. ‘Who is my real mother?’
Mum froze. For a second she looked terrified. Then her face went hard like a mask. No emotion.
‘I am,’ she said. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing.’ I looked away, wishing I hadn’t said anything.
Mum sat down, the frying pan still in her hand.
‘I thought you weren’t bothered about knowing,’ she said.
I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m not.’
Mum ladled scrambled eggs onto my plate. ‘Anyway, I can’t tell you. It was a closed adoption. That means neither side knows anything about the other.’ She got up, replaced the frying pan on the cooker and turned back to me. Her face was all anxious now. ‘Has someone said something at school?’
‘No.’ I bent over my eggs. Trust Mum to assume somebody else was putting ideas in my head. It would be too much for her to imagine I might have started thinking about it for myself.
‘What’s for tea?’ Rory pelted in from the garden, his fat cheeks red from the cold air. Rory’s eight and the spit of my dad. ‘My little test-tube miracle,’ my mum calls him. All I can say is, a lot of unpleasant things grow in test tubes.