Love Hurts

by Malorie Blackman

  ‘Oh yes, I know,’ Jude said grimly. ‘I know all about it. And it’s payback time.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  Jude sat back in his chair. His eyes darted here, there and everywhere and although he sat perfectly still, he reminded me of a nervous cat, ready to leap off at a nanosecond’s notice.

  ‘I hear they booted you out of Heathcroft,’ Jude said at last.

  ‘I wasn’t booted. I walked,’ I told him huffily.

  ‘Good for you. That wasn’t the place for you, little brother.’

  ‘I know that now.’

  ‘It’s a shame you didn’t listen to me when I told you months ago. It would’ve saved you a lot of grief.’

  I shrugged. What else was there to say?

  ‘So what’re you up to now?’ Jude asked.

  ‘I eat chips.’ I pointed at my polystyrene tray.

  ‘Would you like to do something more worth-while?’

  ‘Like what?’

  Jude stood up. ‘I have to go now. Someone will be in touch.’

  ‘Jude, don’t do your “Man of Mystery” routine on me.’ I frowned. ‘What am I meant to tell Mum?’

  ‘Don’t tell her anything,’ Jude said vehemently. ‘Where we’re going, she can’t follow.’

  ‘And where are we going?’

  ‘I think you know, little brother.’

  ‘Stop calling me that,’ I protested. ‘What’re you up to, Jude?’

  ‘Just tell me one thing,’ Jude said. ‘Are you in or out?’

  He was deliberately being enigmatic, answering each of my questions with a question of his own. And it was really cheesing me off. But I knew what he was asking. This was my chance to link up with the Liberation Militia. And I knew in my gut that if I turned Jude down now, I’d never be asked again.

  ‘Well?’ Jude prompted.

  I licked my lips, trying to delay the moment of decision.

  ‘This is your chance to make a difference,’ Jude told me.

  And just like that, I felt a calmness, a purpose I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. I looked at Jude and said, ‘I’m in.’

  Jude nodded, satisfied. ‘Then go home, pack your bags and make your peace with Mum. You’ll be contacted tomorrow some time. After that you won’t be seeing Mum or anyone else we know for that matter for a while. Are you still in?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Welcome to the lifeboat party, little brother,’ Jude said, adding, ‘I hope I can trust you.’

  And a moment later, he was gone.

  Sephy

  Dear Callum,

  I was going to phone you but I knew I’d bottle out and never say what I wanted to say. So I’ve decided to write it all down. I’ve thought and thought about it and I think I’ve found a way for both of us to get away from all this madness. You’re sixteen, nearly seventeen and I’m almost fifteen so don’t say I’m too young or anything stupid like that. Just read this letter with an open mind, that’s all I ask.

  I think you and I should go away together. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just the two of us. For good. Before you throw this letter in the bin, my brain hasn’t dropped out of my ear. I know what I’m saying is right. I want to be with you and I think you want to be with me. I’m not going to swear un dying love or any of that other stuff you despise so much, but if we don’t leave now and together, then something tells me we never will. I’m not talking about the two of us becoming lovers or anything like that. I don’t think either of us is ready for that. Besides, I know that’s the last thing you’d want. But the two of us could set off together. Set up together. Stay together. Save each other – if that doesn’t sound too melodramatic. I think it probably does. But I mean it. And if you think about it, you’ll realize deep down that I’m right.

  So let’s just do it before we get too old and scared. Let’s do this before we turn into them. I’ve got plenty of money saved in my own personal bank account, plus there’s my regular monthly allowance from both Dad and my grandmother’s trust fund. And we can both work. Just as long as we’re together. All you have to do is say yes. I thought we could move right away from here. Maybe rent a place up north somewhere. Maybe in the country.

  If you say yes.

  Mother has finally agreed to my going to Chivers Boarding School and I’m leaving at two o’clock on Sunday afternoon. If I don’t hear from you by then I’ll know what your answer is. I’ll wait for you right up until the moment I have to leave. But either way I’m going to get out of here.

  Take me away from all this, Callum. Don’t let me leave for Chivers. I want to be with you. Please don’t let me down.

  All my love

  Yours for ever,

  Sephy

  I stuffed the letter back into its envelope as I heard footsteps approach the kitchen. I was in luck. It was Sarah.

  ‘Sarah, I . . . could you do me a favour? A really big one.’ I chewed on my lip nervously, trying to read her expression.

  ‘Oh yes? What’s that then?’

  ‘Could you deliver this letter to Callum McGregor? He’s staying with his aunt. I’ve written the address on the front.’

  ‘I don’t think so!’ Sarah scoffed. ‘I need this job.’

  ‘Please, Sarah. I’m begging you. It’s really important.’

  ‘What is it?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘A letter.’

  ‘I can see that. What does it say?’

  I chewed on my lip some more. A horrified look appeared on Sarah’s face.

  ‘You . . . you’re not pregnant, are you?’

  I stared at her, then burst out laughing.

  ‘I guess not,’ Sarah said dryly.

  ‘Please,’ I pleaded, my smile fading. ‘I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t really, really important.’

  Sarah regarded me thoughtfully. ‘OK,’ she said at last. ‘I’ll deliver it on my way home tonight. But only on one condition.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘That you don’t do anything . . . hasty.’

  ‘It’s a deal!’ I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tight. ‘Thank you. Oh, thank you.’

  ‘Hhmm!’ Sarah didn’t sound convinced that she was doing the right thing at all.

  I licked the envelope and sealed it before pressing it into her hand before she could change her mind.

  ‘Thanks, Sarah. I owe you one.’ I grinned at her as I skipped off.

  ‘You owe me several, Miss Sephy,’ Sarah called after me.

  ‘I know.’ I twirled around before heading up the stairs.

  Hasty! This wasn’t hasty at all. I’d thought and considered and planned this for days, weeks, months, all my life. Everything Callum and I had ever done had been leading up to this moment.

  Callum would read my letter and come for me and together we were going to escape.

  Wasn’t life glorious?!!

  Callum

  ‘Callum, there’s someone downstairs to see you . . . What’re you doing?’

  I closed my eyes briefly, my back towards Mum. I’d hoped to escape any kind of explanation.

  ‘I’m going away, Mum.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Away,’ I replied. ‘Somewhere where I can make a difference.’

  Silence. When I could bear it no longer, I turned to see what Mum was doing. She stood in the doorway, watching me.

  ‘I see,’ she said at last.

  And she did see. That was the trouble.

  ‘When will you be back?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I answered truthfully.

  Pause. ‘Will you see your brother?’

  ‘I don’t know. Probably.’

  ‘Tell him . . . Give him my love,’ Mum said at last, adding, ‘Do one thing for me, will you?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Keep your head down. And tell your brother to do the same.’ Mum turned to walk out of the door, her whole body slumped and drawn in on itself. She turned her head. ‘What about Sarah downstairs?’

  ‘Sarah?’
/>   ‘Sarah Pike who works for Mrs Hadley. She’s downstairs.’

  ‘Tell her I’m busy at the moment. I don’t want to see her.’ I shook my head. The last thing I needed right now was a stale morality lecture from Mrs Hadley’s dogsbody. ‘I can’t take all my stuff,’ I decided. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon for the rest.’

  Mum carried on downstairs. I flung a clean T-shirt into my rucksack and closed it, waiting for the sound of the front door to close downstairs. My leaving would please Aunt Charlotte, at any rate. I’d already received my orders. Go to the bus garage just outside town, sit on the bench outside the bus garage and wait. All very hush-hush, cloak-and-dagger. It was a big waste of time and effort if anyone were to ask me, which no one did. But if it kept my brother happy then fair enough.

  I felt quite upbeat about what was going to happen actually. I was going to join the Liberation Militia. It wasn’t what I’d planned for myself a couple of years ago, but at least I’d stopped drifting. At last, I belonged.

  The moment I heard the front door shut, I headed downstairs.

  ‘Sarah left this for you.’ Mum pointed to a letter on the hall table.

  ‘I’ll pick it up tomorrow with the rest of my stuff,’ I said, impatiently, without even looking at it. What Sarah couldn’t say to my face she’d written down, eh? Well, it could wait. I was off to spend my Saturday evening outside a bus garage.

  ‘I’m off now, Mum.’

  Mum nodded. ‘Take care of yourself.’

  ‘You too.’

  We stood in the hall like two lemons on display.

  ‘See you, Mum.’

  ‘Bye, son.’

  I skirted round Mum trying to make sure I didn’t knock her with my rucksack. And then I was out of the door. Mum closed it quietly behind me as I walked off towards the other end of town.

  Sephy

  He’s coming. He’s not going to come. He’s coming. He’s not going to come. He’s . . .

  ‘Persephone, move it!’ Mother snapped. ‘D’you want to go to Chivers or not?’

  ‘I’m coming,’ I called out. I took one more look around, searching the grounds, the path, towards the gate.

  Nothing.

  He wasn’t going to come. The desire to cry came and died. Dry-eyed, I moved towards the car. Karl, the chauffeur, stood by the passenger door, holding it open for me.

  ‘Sephy!’

  I turned as Minnie came hurtling out of the door. She stopped right in front of me.

  ‘Enjoy yourself at Chivers,’ she said at last.

  ‘I wish you could come with me,’ I told her.

  ‘Do you?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Well, Mother can’t do without both of us and as I’m the oldest and my exams are only just around the corner, and going to a new school would be too disruptive, I might as well stay here . . .’

  Mother’s arguments, not Minnie’s.

  ‘I’m sorry, Minerva.’

  Minnie shrugged. ‘Yeah, so am I.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have another word with Mother? Maybe she’ll . . .?’

  ‘It wouldn’t do any good,’ Minnie interrupted. ‘She’s determined that I should stay.’

  ‘You worry too much about pleasing everyone,’ I told her.

  ‘Unlike you. You couldn’t give two hoots for anyone else’s opinion.’ Minnie smiled.

  If only that was true. I sometimes acted first and thought about it afterwards but I did care what other people thought. That was the trouble.

  ‘Don’t . . . don’t get too . . . like Mother – OK?’ I said.

  ‘I’ll do my best.’ Minnie winked conspiratorially. ‘And you lay off the booze. Agreed?’

  ‘I’ll try,’ I told her.

  ‘I thought you stopped for a while?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘What made you stop?’

  I shrugged. How to answer that? Feeling wanted. Being cuddled. Not feeling sorry for myself any more. Any number of answers. Lots of reasons.

  ‘Well, what made you start again?’

  I shrugged again. Being lonely. Missing him. The absence of hope until I’d written my letter.

  ‘Sephy, you’re not Mother. Stop trying to be,’ Minnie said.

  I started at Minnie’s words, staring at her. Is that what I was doing?

  ‘Sephy, please come on,’ Mother called out from behind us.

  ‘Bye then.’ Minnie bent forward awkwardly and kissed me on the cheek. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that. I couldn’t remember the first time come to that! I headed for the car, still looking around.

  He wasn’t coming.

  Wave goodbye to Dreamland, Sephy. I sat down next to Mother.

  ‘At last!’ she said, annoyed.

  Oh Callum . . . Why didn’t you come? Didn’t you believe me? Or maybe you didn’t believe in me? Or maybe you were the one who had to have sense enough for both of us. Or maybe you were just scared enough for both of us.

  Karl walked around the car to the driver’s seat – and we were off.

  Callum, why didn’t you come?

  Callum

  Faster. Move. I have to do it. I just have to. Wait. Please wait.

  I race like the wind towards Sephy’s house. Faster than I’ve ever run before. As fast as if my life depends on it.

  Please God, if you’re really up there . . .

  I clamber up the rise to the rose garden, just in time to see a car turn out of the security gates. Sephy is in the back, next to her mum. But she’s looking down, not at me, not anywhere near me.

  Please God . . .

  ‘WAIT! SEPHY, IT’S ME. WAIT!’

  Run. Move. I sprint after the car. I stop breathing so drawing breath won’t slow me down. Run. Race. Sprint.

  ‘SEPHY . . .’

  The car is several metres ahead of me now. The driver’s eyes meet mine in the driver’s mirror. Sephy’s Mercedes accelerates smoothly but noticeably away from me.

  ‘SEPHY . . .’ I speed after the car. My lungs are about to implode and every muscle, every bone in my body is on fire. But I’ll follow that car to hell and back, if I have to.

  If I can.

  Please, please God . . .

  I trip over my feet and hit the ground face first. Dazed, I look up, but the car is almost out of sight. I grip Sephy’s letter in my hand, lying on the ground, listening to the sound of all my hopes and dreams moving further and further away. Like listening to the sound of a door being slammed in my face.

  GENTLEWOMAN

  BY

  LAURA DOCKRILL

  1.

  ‘Don’t laugh.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘You’re already laughing.’

  ‘That’s just my normal face.’

  ‘OK. Can’t you just keep a straight face?’

  ‘This is as straight as my face gets.’

  ‘Please, Isaac.’

  ‘I’m one of those people who just laughs at bad news. Don’t take it personally.’

  He’s joking. I know he is. But I can’t help taking everything personally. Like how I think people in clothes shops are saying an overly emphasized hi to me when I walk in. A hi that is much bigger and prouder than the one they give everybody else. It singles me out: a hi that stands for ‘Are you sure you’re meant to be in this shop?’

  I suffer from paranoia. I never buy anything.

  ‘This isn’t bad news.’

  ‘So why are you acting like this?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like all . . . I dunno . . . not like you used to.’

  ‘Why? What am I acting like? How did I used to be? Because I don’t feel like me. I don’t feel like . . . look, this is why I wanted to talk to you, Isaac. About something.’

  ‘Talk to me then. I’m listening.’

  But he isn’t listening. He hasn’t listened to me for years. He’s already ready to leave. Isaac’s too simple, too black and white. If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all this, it’s people. U
nderstanding them. I know them now. Their mannerisms and habits, their body language.

  And I can’t do it. I think he knows what I’m going to say anyway, or at least suspects, but I can’t actually say it. Out loud. Because then it becomes real. A fact. An elephant in the room. And I don’t know what he’ll think of me after I say it, and once I have, I can’t take it back.

  I want to prolong this moment; having him in my grasp like this, vulnerable to my secret still. Being the one in charge.

  I fold my hair behind my ears. It’s really long now. I smile, try to make him feel comfortable. Act normal.

  But I don’t know what normal is.

  Does anybody know what normal is?

  I must have been silent for longer than I thought. Isaac rubs his face. We’re fifteen now, and he’s changed so much. Lost his chubby face. Developed a strong jawline. Stubble, no bum fluff. An Adam’s apple. His eyebrows darker, bigger, more spread out. And he has these naturally long eyelashes, like a camel. I don’t – I hardly have any eyelashes, but it’s a waste of time to compare, as Mum says.

  ‘Look, I’ve got football.’

  He gets up to leave. I cross my legs.

  ‘OK. I’ll catch you later then.’

  ‘Sure there’s nothing you wanna say or whatever?’

  ‘Oh, I can’t even remember what it was now.’

  ‘You can’t remem—What’s going on with you?’

  I chew my lip. Chew my nails. I have to stop doing that. I’m meant to be growing them.

  ‘Nothing. I’m sorry. It’s been a weird week.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Positive.’

  ‘’Cos you can talk to me. If you, you know, like, need to.’

  ‘I know. Thanks. Honestly, I’m fine.’

  ‘OK then. Anyways, I gotta bounce. Sure you don’t wanna come, at least watch? See the boys?’

  ‘No; thanks though.’

  ‘K. Well, text me if you change your mind.’

  Watching football only makes me feel weirder. It reminds me of more things that my brain or body don’t like to do. Isaac knows I hate it.

  Everything makes me feel weird. School. Eating. Washing. Talking. Even being around people.

  The boys have all started to distance themselves from me anyway. Isaac’s only stuck around for so long because our mums are friends. He feels obliged. He doesn’t have a problem, like me. He’s sorted. We have nothing in common except the past.