by FJ Campbell
Beth looked sceptical.
Milo sat back in his chair and took his time to search for the right words. ‘I miss my mum every day. She was such a lovely person. I miss her so much it hurts.’ He thumped his chest. ‘Here. It hurts here. I’m starting to forget what she looked like. I have to look at a photo sometimes.’
Beth was silent.
‘I guess you’ll never have that problem.’ Milo put his hand to his head, rubbed his scalp and closed his eyes. He continued in a low voice, ‘I am angry with my dad. Whenever I think about what he did to me, it makes me want to punch someone.’ He felt so lonely telling her this, even with her there. ‘The question I keep asking myself is, What could I have done differently? Maybe if I’d talked to him about Mum, maybe I could’ve stopped him… I was so useless. Do you ever have that dream where you’re driving through the night, you don’t know where you are, you’re running out of petrol and you can’t find your way home… everything seems so scary and out of reach. Have you ever had a dream like that?’
‘Something similar.’
He didn’t say anything for a while, and then, ‘I know I let him down.’
‘You did not. It’s not your job to sort out your parents. You were a child.’
‘Well, I’m not any more. As you’ve noticed, I have no money and no family to help me. So I decided, that’s it, I have to help myself. I have to get on with my life. And you know, I am lucky.’
‘Lucky? How?’ Beth snorted.
‘I have the cottage. I have The Island. That school, it’s paradise for me. I try not to imagine what my life would have been like if I didn’t have it. You know, I have some friends in the village; they aren’t as lucky as me. My mate Scott – his brother’s in jail, for GBH. Another friend of mine, Karen, she has six younger sisters and brothers. Their dad left last year and her mum has two jobs, so Karen has to get the children fed and put them to bed in the evenings. She has no time to do her homework. A guy I was at primary school with – Andy, you know him; he works in the kitchens at school? – he earns three quid an hour. He hates his job, but it’s that or the dole. None of these people are as lucky as me.’
‘Or as me?’
‘Look, I know it’s a steaming pile of shit at the moment. I don’t envy your life. For me, the tragedy is over. For you, it’s just starting. So, the way I see it, you can either sit around sulking about it or you can make a plan and get on with your life. It could have been worse, you know.’
‘How? How could it have been worse? My boyfriend lied to me and hung me out to dry, I’ve got to spend the rest of my life in the public eye, nothing I ever do in my career or my life will be my own, I have no privacy, I won’t know who my friends are. You’d have thought that losing my parents when I was a baby would have been enough, but now… now I lose myself too.’
‘I’ll tell you how it could have been worse. You’ve got James and Anne. You’ve got friends who knew you before you were famous. You’ve got a brain. You’ve got money—’
‘I told you, I don’t want the money.’
‘Oh, don’t be so self-pitying.’
Beth looked up at Milo, her eyes wide with surprise.
‘Money can buy you lots of practical things that will make your life better. It will buy you privacy and protection and power. So don’t start being a poor little rich girl. It doesn’t suit you.’
‘Jesus, don’t hold back, OK? I get it.’
‘And you know what else? You’re lucky that you look like your mum. Not just so that you’ll never forget what she looked like.’ Milo looked at her, a smile forming over his lips.
‘What, then? What’s so funny?’
‘Well, have you seen the pictures of your dad? No offence, but he was no oil painting.’
Beth rolled her eyes.
They drove back to Weatherbury in silence, listening to the radio. A news report came on and Beth tensed. Milo turned up the volume. The top story was still Beth, but it was all the usual rehashed information. Nigel Dempster was interviewed, but said very little that hadn’t been said already. Milo shrugged and turned the volume down again.
‘We could really do with another Watergate now, to take you off the top spot. Or a nuclear war or a famine. As many people suffering as possible, to ensure your personal happiness.’
From Beth, not a flicker of amusement.
*
Livvy and James were already at the cottage. Livvy had lit the fire again and she put the kettle on, while Milo opened a cupboard to find the teabags. He frowned at her.
‘What’s all this?’
‘We bought a few essentials, as a thank-you for your hospitality.’
‘Essentials? You’ve bought half the supermarket.’
There were packs of tea, coffee and cocoa, tins of baked beans and spaghetti hoops, Pot Noodles and Weetabix, crisps and biscuits. Livvy grabbed some Hobnobs and handed them around to everyone.
‘See – hospitality.’
There was a knock at the door and Guy poked his head round it.
‘I thought you’d all be here – anyone need a lift up to school in this delightful weather? Hello, sir, you must be the famous Uncle James; honoured to meet you, big fan of your work. Loving the new look, big man. And hello… Mademoiselle Sauveterre.’
Beth, who was sitting on the sofa clutching her tea, turned her head to give Guy a look of pure loathing and looked away again.
Guy winced theatrically. ‘Not ready to joke about it yet?’
Milo gave his bag to Guy, pushed him out of the door and said he’d meet him at school later. Billy and Jake arrived to collect Livvy and before Milo could head them off, they had danced round to the sofa and plonked themselves either side of Beth. She did her best to ignore them.
‘Can I have your autograph, Sauveterre?’
‘Very funny.’
‘Will you go out with me, now that you’ve split up with Zack? I promise I’ll be a model boyfriend.’
Milo interrupted. ‘Leave it out, BJ.’ But the corner of his mouth twitched.
‘Argh! It’s Frankenstein. What the fuck… excuse my language, sir…’
While Billy and Jake ran over to Milo and were stroking his bald head and introducing themselves to James, Beth stood up and strode over to the stairs.
‘Don’t go, Sauveterre.’
‘Sod off and leave me alone. And you halfwits – Frankenstein made the monster, so Milo is not Frankenstein, he’s Frankenstein’s monster.’ And she stomped upstairs.
Once Billy, Jake and Livvy had gone, Beth came back downstairs and they ordered a Chinese takeaway for dinner. She sat silently, pushing the food around her plate, while James and Milo talked about LA and what James was going to do now. He had to go back, he said, next week at the latest, but he would return to England by the end of the summer term and maybe he, Anne and Beth could go away together, somewhere remote, where they wouldn’t attract too much attention. It sounded sensible to Milo, but he couldn’t help thinking that not seeing Beth for eight weeks was going to be hard for him.
Beth went outside into the garden to smoke a cigarette.
James watched her close the door behind her and said in a resigned voice, ‘I didn’t tell Beth, I didn’t want her to get more upset about this boy, but my agent had a call from his agent.’
‘Which boy?’
‘This Zack Smythe. His agent called me about the film we’re making of Ten Lives. He thought Zack would do well for the part of my brother-in-law.’
Something in Milo’s brain clicked. ‘When was this? When did the agent call?’
‘Umm… let me see… in the winter, a while ago.’
Milo frowned. ‘Before or after Christmas?’
‘Why? Does it matter?’
‘Sort of. Well, not really, I suppose. But Zack told me that he auditioned for Cold Comfort Farm because he wanted to pull… I mean, go out with Beth. But if the agent called you before then, before they got together, maybe it was the other way round – maybe all he ever
wanted was to get the part in your film.’
‘But why would he ruin his chances by selling the story to the newspapers?’
‘Zack’s not very good at seeing things through. I’ve never known him plan ahead for more than one day. Perhaps his mother was masterminding this.’
‘You talk like it’s an international spy ring.’
‘Sorry, I don’t mean to get all dramatic on you. But Beth’s still hurting about him, even though he’s been so awful to her. She still believes that at some stage, even if it was only early on, he really did love her.’
James thought about it. ‘And you think, maybe he never did?’
Milo shrugged. ‘I suppose it doesn’t matter either way now.’
‘So you’re not going to tell her?’
‘Would you?’
James was silent for a moment. He looked at Milo with a sad smile. ‘You’ll look after her?’
‘I don’t think she wants me to look after her.’
‘But you will anyway?’
‘Yes. I will anyway.’
Beth came back in and Milo stood up to clear the remnants of the meal. He took a long time – he wanted to delay the moment when he had to leave.
She moved across to the kitchen counter and cleared her throat. She was fiddling with her hair. ‘Um. Thanks for trying to cheer me up today. It really helped. I mean, you know, it was actually crap, but I appreciate what you were trying to do.’
‘You gonna be OK tomorrow?’
‘I reckon. Save me a place at breakfast? Seven thirty.’ She pulled up her sleeve and showed him the Swatch watch. ‘I won’t be late.’
‘You’d better not be. There are plenty of very punctual girls who would like to sit next to me.’
‘Oh yeah – with that hair, you’ll be beating them off with a stick.’
Their eyes met and Milo felt a weight lifting off him. Guy would be proud: Beth was trying to joke about it. She was strong; she was going to be all right. And he would be by her side. Even if it was just for breakfast.
CHAPTER 20
‘So, Milo’s going to do the rounds early tomorrow morning. Guy, BJ, Henry and he will go from Casterbridge House up to Shottsford House to talk to Edward and Finn. I’ve already seen Tab, Sav and Susanna, plus Mel.’
Beth lay in her bed that night, half listening to Livvy.
‘We go to breakfast together, we sit together, we do everything together. These are the only people who are allowed to know how upset you are about Zack. For everyone else, just show them your Ice Queen face. As far as they’re concerned, nothing’s changed, same old, same old. They’ll soon get bored and the whole thing’ll blow over.’
‘If you say so.’ Beth was grateful to Livvy for taking over, but couldn’t muster up any more enthusiasm than that.
Breakfast in the dining hall was busier than usual, especially for the first day of term, when most of the school usually preferred an extra half-hour in bed. People slowed down near their table, had a quick look at Beth, and moved on. She sat wedged between Milo and Edward, and everyone at their table was distractingly rowdy. Billy and Jake had them all in stitches over how they got sacked from their holiday jobs teaching little rich kids how to sail – they’d got steaming drunk one night and were still drunk at work the next morning. Billy had been sick over the side of the boat and Jake had fallen in the water, more than once. The little kids had thought it was hilarious but some of the parents had – for some reason – got the hump. The tables around theirs were hushed, listening in on the stories to see if they could pick up anything about Beth. They soon gave up.
‘This is so much fun,’ whispered Henry to Milo. ‘Are we going to do this every day?’
Livvy instructed them to meet in half an hour so they could all go together to assembly. While they were brushing their teeth in their room, Livvy told Beth that Zack was at a tutorial college in London.
‘What’s a tutorial college?’
‘Like a crammer.’
Beth looked puzzled.
‘No? It’s a sort of day school – basically, they take anyone, mostly kids who’ve been expelled from other schools. The parents pay huge amounts of money to get their disgraced children through their exams.’
‘I wonder why Zack bothers? All he ever wanted to do was act. Why is he even taking A Levels?’ wondered Beth aloud.
‘Ah, that’ll be the duke. He only pays his allowance if Zack gets his A Levels, that’s the deal.’
‘Must be some allowance.’
There were six knocks on the door – three slow, three quick.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, come in. Why is everyone enjoying this so much?’
‘Only me,’ said Tab in a melodramatic whisper. ‘Is everyone ready for stage two of Operation Ice Queen?’
Beth sighed and picked up her rucksack. Livvy and Tab followed her out to where the others were waiting. As they walked down the road to the main building, Guy pulled her aside.
‘How’re you doing, Kryptonite?’
‘Never better, Robin.’
‘Robin? I think you’re mixing up your superheroes and their sidekicks.’
‘I think you’re mistaking me for someone who gives a shit. What do you want anyway?’
‘Fancy a little something to calm your nerves?’ He opened his rucksack and pointed to a small, half-empty bottle of tequila. Beth shook her head wordlessly.
They walked to the theatre for assembly and took their seats, to nudges and whispers. Beth stared ahead of her, her face blank. The headmaster gave a speech about the start of term, exams and how important it was for fifth- and sixth-formers in particular to knuckle down.
‘And, as you will all doubtless be aware by now, there has been some media interest in one of our pupils.’ He paused. ‘We have a rule at Weatherbury Hall that will be strictly enforced – that every pupil here has a right to a normal education, no matter who they or their parents are. Any pupil who breaks this rule, who talks to the press or gives a statement, will be most severely punished. Two pupils who have already fallen foul of this will not be returning to Weatherbury Hall – Justin Ravensdale and Zachary Smythe.’
There was a gasp from the audience, and Beth looked around, bewildered.
Livvy whispered, ‘Not everyone knew who sold the story.’
They listened as Mr Toms rambled on about other events in the term, including the election of head boy, head girl and prefects for the following year. Beth tried to listen but she was getting so many dirty looks, she felt her fragile composure draining away. As soon as assembly was over, flanked by Livvy and Mel, she hurried towards the exit. Beth looked left and right and all she could see was girls shaking their heads, some of them weeping and all of them looking up at her as she passed, giving her daggers. This was all she needed. An army of snivelling, love-struck schoolgirls, hating her.
*
That day and the next, and the day after that, and every day following, all eyes were on Beth as she mimicked being normal: always on time, homework finished, not a foot wrong, not a hair out of place. Sleep, classes, choir, sport, meals, common room, sleep and start it all over again. And again. And again.
When she was alone in her room, she would curl up into a ball on her bed, make herself as small as she could, and let her imagination rove. She missed Zack, even though she knew she shouldn’t. His hands, his skin, his eyes, the way he looked at her, it was all seared onto her brain. When she closed her eyes, she could feel his hands all over her, pushing back her hair as he covered her with kisses. She knew, like Milo had said, that she should grow up and get over it, but she couldn’t hold it together all the time. He didn’t understand.
When Livvy was there, Beth would take off somewhere, into the woods or, if it was raining, into one of the bathrooms, stuffing a towel under the door and smoking furiously until she felt sick. She pushed her food around her plate at mealtimes, taking little bites every now and again so that nobody would notice and make a fuss.
She signed up
for cross-country running as her summer sport, so she wouldn’t have to train in a team. She ran as fast as she could, the ground tumbling away under her feet, gravity pulling her legs out into long strides. When she was sure she’d left the others behind, she would find a place to hide until they ran past her, and sat, smoking and thinking. Sometimes the route took in October Hill, where Milo had taken her on New Year’s Day. She sat and stared at the changing cloud shapes in the sky and the patchwork fields, cut across by hedges and country roads, leading to the sea. Reluctantly, she hauled herself up from the cold ground and staggered back to school in last place.
She knew she should be grateful for the tight group of friends who spent as much time as they could hanging out with her. But all she wanted was to be alone. Either they irritated her with their constant worry about how she was coping, or they made a big drama about being her bodyguard, with secret signs and codes between them, none of which interested or amused her in the slightest.
Livvy was certain that she couldn’t have kept her secret for much longer, and tried to explain to a sullen Beth how she had been living on borrowed time.
‘I reckon you had until Speech Day, tops, before anyone recognised you. Look, I’ll show you what I mean.’ She held up her copy of the School List, which had the names and addresses of every pupil and teacher at the school. She pointed at names on the page and moved down it. ‘This guy’s parents are publishers. Her dad is a theatre producer. His mum is an opera singer and her dad is something in TV. Her dad is an actor, you know that already. The Markhams: politician and artist. The Ravensdales: journalists. Another actor. A designer. An ex-rock star. That’s the kind of people who send their children to this school. They’re arty, they’re sometimes famous, they’re all the same age as your mum and dad. There are very few nurses and car salesmen and social workers who can afford to send their children here. It’s not that kind of school. So all it would have taken was for one of these parents to have seen you at Speech Day, and then the game would have been up.’
‘Fine. Whatever you say. The truth were loud.’
‘Exactamundo! Oh, right, I see. But yes. You know I’m talking sense.’
