Should Have Known Better

by A J McDine

She pulled away from Ben and marched up to Adam. ‘Why did you tell them you were driving?’ she demanded.

  Adam gave her a sorrowful smile. ‘You see the predicament I’m in, Chloe. If we told the police Ben was driving they’d have realised pretty sharpish he had no insurance. They’d have been down on him like a ton of bricks. They’d probably have charged him with taking a vehicle without consent and dangerous driving, never mind driving without insurance. You said the accident wasn’t his fault?’

  ‘No. I told you, the deer came from nowhere.’

  ‘And you and Ben are both OK.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘So there’s no harm done, is there?’

  ‘But lying to the police! We could get arrested for that!’

  Adam gestured towards his son’s hunched figure. ‘Imagine for a minute what it would do to Ben if he were convicted. He’d have a criminal record and a tainted reputation. It could kill his chances of a career in the law. You wouldn’t want to jeopardise that, would you?’

  ‘I -’

  ‘He thinks so highly of you, Chloe. You’re all he ever talks about.’

  ‘But -’

  Adam took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘At the end of the day, does it matter who was driving? Think about it. No other cars were involved, and you and Ben are fine. The deer wasn’t hurt, and I’ll claim on my insurance for the damage to the Audi.’

  Except Ben was driving, not you.

  ‘Chloe?’

  ‘If the police find out you’re lying, they’d know I’d lied, too.’

  ‘Who’s going to tell them? Ben won’t. I certainly won’t. Just remember, I was driving, Ben was in the front passenger seat, and you were sitting behind him.’

  Chloe jammed her hands in her pockets. She’d never broken the law before. She’d never taken drugs or shoplifted or even had a detention at school. In her mind, the law existed for a reason. Without legal systems, the world would descend into chaos. And yet here was an adult - a solicitor, for God’s sake – willing to lie to the police.

  She glanced at Ben. Remembered the desolation in his voice after she told him she didn’t want to go out with him. Felt another pang of guilt that she’d led him on. He’d been agitated as he’d driven her home. Would he have crashed if she hadn’t just dumped him?

  One small lie. A little white one. More like twisting the truth. Would it hurt? Did it matter who was driving the bloody Audi?

  She kicked a clump of mud with her toe.

  ‘Have it your way,’ she said finally.

  Adam smiled. ‘So if anybody asks?’

  ‘You were driving.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  KATE

  Kate poured three mugs of tea and pushed a plate of homemade flapjacks in Rory’s direction. He was moaning about the cold, despite being wrapped in five layers.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s about time you had a proper heating system installed, Pa? This is the twenty-first century, you know.’

  Their father was still in shirtsleeves. ‘Why would we want to do that when the storage heaters and immersion tank do a perfectly adequate job?’

  Kate and Rory shared a smile.

  ‘Anyway, never mind the heating,’ their father said, turning a hawklike gaze on his son. ‘When are you going to settle down and give me another grandchild?’

  Rory choked on a mouthful of flapjack and Kate patted him firmly between his shoulder blades.

  ‘Yes, when are you going to settle down, Rory?’

  ‘Probably when you do, sister dear. How is the dating going, by the way?’

  Their father raised his eyebrows. ‘Dating? Ridiculous. First I’ve heard of it.’

  ‘That’s because Rory’s winding me up. As usual.’ Kate rolled her eyes, even though she secretly loved the way she and Rory slipped straight back into the easy banter they’d perfected as teenagers. She glanced at the clock above the Aga. ‘I might text Chloe. See when she’s going to be home.’

  No sooner had she picked up her phone than the front door clicked open.

  ‘There she is,’ she said, pushing her chair back and calling, ‘Chloe, love. We’re in the kitchen.’

  The door clunked shut, and footsteps thudded along the hallway. Chloe appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Uncle Rory!’

  Rory jumped out of his chair. ‘Look at you, all grown up and more gorgeous than ever. Give me a hug.’

  Chloe yelped as Rory pulled her close. He jerked back. ‘You OK?’

  She held her sternum. ‘I collided with Hazel Matthews in double games. I think she bruised my ribs. Honestly, you should see her. Built like a brick shit-house.’

  ‘Chloe!’ Kate waggled her finger. ‘That’s enough, thank you.’

  ‘Sorry Mum.’

  ‘You're forgiven.’ Kate made a fresh pot of tea and poured Chloe a cup. Her daughter’s naturally pale complexion had the rosy bloom of someone who’d spent most of the afternoon outside.

  ‘Must have been cold.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Double games.’

  ‘Oh. Yeah. It was.’

  ‘It was kind of Annie’s mum to drop you home. It’s miles out of her way.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Chloe took a sip of tea and reached for a flapjack.

  ‘You’ll never guess who I bumped into when I was picking your Uncle Rory up from the airport,’ Kate continued.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Adam.’

  Chloe’s hand stopped mid-air. ‘Adam?’

  ‘You know. Ben’s dad. Fancy the chances of that, eh?’ Kate tried to keep her voice neutral. ‘He said you kids have been keeping in touch since the open day.’

  ‘We’ve been messaging a bit. As friends, you know?’

  ‘Is the son as hot as the dad?’ Rory asked, winking at his niece.

  Chloe’s flushed cheeks turned a shade darker.

  Their father looked up from his crossword. ‘For goodness sake, leave the poor girl in peace.’

  ‘Chloe’s been working at The Willows,’ Kate said.

  Rory grinned. ‘Did your mum ever tell you about my one and only shift?’

  Chloe shook her head. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He got as drunk as a skunk while he was in the glass room,’ Kate said. The corner of her mouth twitched. ‘He was drinking everyone’s dregs.’

  ‘You never were!’

  Rory pouted. ‘People were leaving glasses of perfectly decent fizz half-finished. It would have been criminal to waste it.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘How’s Patrick? As difficult as ever?’

  ‘He’s all right if you stay on the right side of him,’ Kate said.

  ‘Which I never did. He’s the one who grassed me up to his mother and had me sacked, the sly little shit.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘Something not quite right up here, if you ask me.’

  ‘We didn’t,’ Kate said brusquely. ‘Is there anything you want to do while you’re over? Oxford Street? A show?’

  ‘I’m quite happy with some walks in the country, a pub lunch or two, a spot of fishing and evenings in front of the fire, to be honest. Work has been full on this year. I could do with some downtime.’

  Kate smiled. ‘Downtime can be easily arranged.’

  ‘Although -’ Rory sat up straight. ‘I’ve had a most excellent idea. Why don’t we throw a bash?’

  ‘A bash?’

  ‘A Christmas party. Nothing too complicated. Some mulled wine and nibbles. Invite the neighbours over. It’d be a laugh.’

  ‘That’s a terrible idea,’ Kate said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m the one who’ll get lumbered organising the bloody thing, that’s why. We’ve got half a dozen weddings on at work, I still haven’t finished my Christmas shopping, and I haven’t even thought about a tree or ordered a turkey yet. I’ve too much on.’

  Their father finished his tea and hauled himself to his feet. ‘Then Rory and I will organise it. We haven’t had a party for yonks. I’m in my twilight ye
ars, remember. I might not have another chance.’

  Chloe looked up from her phone in alarm. ‘Don’t say that, Grandpa.’

  ‘As Benjamin Franklin once said, Chloe dear, “In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” Don’t you worry, I have a few years left in me. But we might not have the opportunity to have another shindig before you head off to university. I’ll galvanise the neighbours and order some of those platters from Marks & Spencer. Rory, you can look after drinks and decorations.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Rory said.

  ‘Well, if that’s sorted, I’ll take my leave. I have back-to-back episodes of Eggheads to watch.’ And with that, he helped himself to a second slice of flapjack and shuffled out of the room.

  Rory turned to his sister. ‘Before the house is filled with all the ancient neighbours, we need to think of a few people our age to invite. Otherwise, our party will be in danger of resembling bingo night at Age Concern.’

  Chloe snorted.

  ‘Is Pete still at The Willows?’ Rory asked. ‘We should ask him. He’s a laugh.’

  ‘Yes,’ Kate said. ‘But if we ask Pete we’ll have to invite Patrick.’

  Rory shuddered. ‘If we must. Who else is there?’

  ‘Most of the people we went to school with have long gone.’

  Rory slammed his hand on the table. ‘I know! What about the delectable Adam and his son? What’s his name again?’ He looked at his niece, but it was Kate who answered.

  ‘Ben. But I’m sure they won’t want to come.’

  ‘Of course they will. Adam clearly fancies the pants off you. And I’m sure Ben can’t keep his hands off Chloe, either. Think what fun you two can have under the mistletoe. Although it could be weird if you did both hook up. Chlo, you’d be dating your step-brother.’

  Chloe pushed her chair back and, muttering something about an English essay, tramped out of the room.

  Rory turned to Kate with bemusement. ‘What did I say?’

  ‘Honestly Rory, you have the subtlety of a ten-tonne truck. Chloe bites my head off if I even ask about her day. She’s not going to give you a blow by blow account of her love life, even if you are her favourite uncle.’

  ‘An unfortunate choice of words, big sis, but fair enough. Let’s decide on a date for our party, and you can hand over that business card I saw Adam slip into your pocket at the airport. I’ll send him an invite.’

  Kate reddened. ‘How on earth did you notice that?’

  ‘I see more than you think,’ he said.

  Kate stood outside Chloe’s bedroom, wondering what to do. Usually, if the door was ajar, she knew she’d be welcome. But it was firmly closed. She tapped a couple of times and said softly, ‘It’s me. Can I come in?’

  There was a sigh, and the sound of a chair leg scraping on the wooden floor. The door swung open. Chloe had dumped her school bag on the end of her bed, and the only thing on her desk was her mobile phone, blinking away with a constant stream of notifications. So much for the English essay, Kate thought, as she perched on the bed and smiled at her daughter.

  ‘Don’t take any notice of your Uncle Rory. He was teasing you.’

  Chloe paced over to the window. Outside, the night was coal-black. Kate fought the urge to jump up and pull the curtains. Chloe never bothered. Said she liked waking up to natural light. Kate’s warnings about draughts always fell on deaf ears.

  ‘Do we have to have a party?’ Chloe said, her breath misting the glass.

  ‘You know what your Uncle Rory’s like when he gets the bit between his teeth. And Grandpa seems quite taken by the idea. You never know, it might be fun.’

  Chloe spun around and glared at Kate. ‘You’ve changed your tune.’

  ‘You know me. I hate surprises. But I have to say I’m coming around to the idea.’

  ‘Well, I’m not. I’ll stay over at Annie’s, thanks.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, of course you won’t. Annie can come to the party. I’m sure a couple of the kids from work will come, too. And we’ll ask Ben. It won’t all be old fogeys.’

  Chloe rested her forehead against the glass. Kate tried another tack.

  ‘I’ll buy you a new dress.’

  ‘I don’t want a new dress.’

  ‘What’s wrong, Chlo? You normally love parties.’

  Chloe took a deep breath, as if she was about to say something, then marched over to her desk. ‘Fine. Have your bloody party. But don’t expect me to be the life and soul, all right?’

  Chapter Fourteen

  KATE

  Kate slammed the last tray of sausage rolls into the Aga and checked the time. Five to seven. Which meant she had precisely thirty-five minutes to shower, wash and dry her hair and do her make-up before the first guests arrived. And heat the mulled wine. And light the candles in the front room. And pour the vodka and prosecco into the Christmas punch.

  Her father wandered into the kitchen wearing a double-breasted navy smoking jacket, black dress trousers, a pleated white dress shirt and a black silk bow tie.

  Kate whistled. ‘Look at you! Very dapper.’

  ‘Found it in the back of the wardrobe.’ He smoothed his hair. ‘Do I pass muster?’

  ‘You do indeed.’ Kate pushed her fringe away from her face with a floury hand. ‘Whereas I look like the wreck of the Hesperus. I’d better get ready. Can you take the sausage rolls out of the oven when the bleeper goes?’

  ‘Consider it done.’

  ‘Thanks, Pa. Where’s Rory?’

  ‘Still titivating.’ He shook his head. ‘He spends more time in the bathroom than Chloe.’

  ‘You know Rory.’ Kate stood on her tiptoes and pecked her father on the cheek. He smelt of talcum powder and mothballs. ‘When he does make an appearance can you ask him to check there are enough beers in the fridge?’

  Her father nodded. ‘You run along and make yourself look pretty for this Adam chappie, eh?’

  Swallowing the retort that was on the tip of her tongue, Kate ran up the stairs two at a time. She should be used to her father’s outlandishly-dated views by now. In his eyes, women were somehow incomplete if they’d failed to find a husband before their thirtieth birthday and children were supposed to have both a mother and a father.

  She could still remember the confusion on his face when she’d sat him down, poured him a hefty slug of whisky and announced she was pregnant. It was the hardest thing she’d done in her life.

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ he’d said. ‘You can’t be. You’re a child yourself.’

  ‘I’m nearly nineteen,’ she’d said, twisting the braids in her hair round and round her index finger.

  ‘Who’s the father?’

  ‘I - I don’t know.’

  ‘Were you attacked? You can tell me, Katie. Because by God I’ll have their guts for garters.’

  She’d stared at the ground, wishing it would swallow her up. ‘I wasn’t attacked, Pa. There was a beach party. I was drunk. I don’t remember much about it.’

  That was a lie. Kate remembered every second. She’d made friends with two girls from Melbourne staying at the same hostel in Phuket and had tagged along with them to a party on the beach. There had been a bonfire, too many bottles of Singha beer and snorkelling in the dark. Someone had been playing the guitar. She’d sat in her bikini next to a boy called Noah from California whose blond hair had been bleached ivory by the sun. A boy with laughing blue eyes, full lips, broad shoulders and a washboard stomach and absolutely no idea he now had a seventeen-year-old daughter called Chloe.

  He’d left for the Philippines the next day. He’d hugged her and said, ‘It was good to meet you, English Kate.’ And she’d never seen him again.

  Her father had downed his whisky in one and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘Keep it,’ she’d whispered. She’d had no idea about anything else, but she’d been sure of that at least. ‘I want to keep it.’

  When Kate
came out of the shower, Chloe was sitting cross-legged on Kate’s bed, staring at her phone with a stony expression.

  ‘What’s up, love?’

  ‘Annie’s not coming. Her mum’s car’s broken down.’

  ‘What about the bus?’

  ‘The last one left town an hour ago.’

  Kate began towel-drying her hair. ‘I would offer to pick her up, but people will be arriving at any minute.’

  Chloe drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. ‘Do I have to come?’ she asked again.

  Kate dropped the towel on her bedroom floor and regarded her daughter. Chloe was wearing a tight red top and those tarty black boots Kate hated over her skinny jeans. Her long, golden hair, a few shades darker than her father’s, tumbled down her back. Other than a sweep of eyeliner, a matt-black mascara and a slick of clear lipgloss, her face was bare. She had no idea how beautiful she was.

  ‘Mum?’ she wheedled.

  Kate caved in. Anything for a quiet life. ‘All right. Show your face for an hour or so, OK? Then you can hide out in the snug with Ben and the others if you like. Watch a film or something.’

  ‘He won’t want to do that.’

  ‘Who won’t?’

  ‘Ben.’

  ‘I thought you were friends.’

  ‘We were. But Ben wanted to be more, and I told him I didn’t. And so tonight’s going to be totally awkward.’

  Suddenly everything made sense.

  ‘That’s why you didn’t want us to hold a party. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I don’t have to tell you everything, Mum.’

  ‘You used to.’ The words tumbled out before Kate could stop them. She perched on the edge of the bed and touched Chloe’s knee. ‘Want to talk about it?’

  ‘What’s the point? It’s too late now. He’s coming, isn’t he? Just because you fancy his dad. So I don’t want to “hide out in the snug with Ben”, because he hates my guts. Satisfied?’ And she slid off the bed, huffed the way only aggrieved teenagers can, and stomped out of the room, slamming the door.

  ‘Give me strength,’ Kate said, rolling her eyes. ‘And I would like to point out that I don’t fancy his dad,’ she added.