Closer (9 page)

I'm out of there and up the stairs to my bedroom. Hannah's woken up and gone in the bathroom and my bed's all rumpled. I slam the door and I pull the bed apart, the sheets and the pillowcases and the duvet, and the duvet cover rips as I pull it off and I don't care and I shove the books off the shelf and throw them onto the heap and empty the drawers of all the clothes and I realise it's me shouting and screaming. And when my voice goes I grab the duvet and wrap it round me and sit in the corner of the room and hug my knees and go to the good place where nothing matters and nobody, nobody can touch me.

I think they decided to let me be, because it's later and I've woken up hot in the duvet. There's a text on my phone from Raj. He wants to see me. He says he felt bad after we met. I haven't thought about him since I saw him in the park. It feels like a week ago. But I really want to see him now. I brush my hair and wash my face. When I go downstairs there's nobody around. The living room door is closed and I can hear Mum talking to Dad in that cold voice. Through the kitchen door I see his bowl of cornflakes still on the table. I leave by the back door so they don't see me go. 

Raj is by the park gates like he's been there all night. He's looking out for me, and he comes up and hugs me and I let him and remind myself not to cry. 

“You went so soon yesterday. I'm sorry, I was so made up about the course and everything, I didn't even think about us. And then when you'd gone I couldn't do anything else but think. About us. You. And me.” 

I don't want to say anything. Right now I want to be there with him, without any of it. I'm listening hard, smelling his sweatshirt and the sun on his hair and feeling his arms round me. I never thought I'd hear him say things like this. 

“I don't know if I want to go. Not if it means I don't see you.” 

I move away from him and look at him. His arms are still round me, and he's looking right into my eyes and I can see he means what he's saying and I matter to him, really matter, and I let him matter to me. 

And he's kissing me, gently, like he's holding something stronger back, and I want it to stay gentle, and he realises. I lean my head on his chest and it's so good to be there with him, safe. 

After a while we find a bench to sit on and start to talk. I feel unreal again in the middle of all this. Here I am with the boy I've dreamed about for months. He's holding my hand and I'm leaning against his shoulder. It should be the best moment. But he doesn't know anything, he thinks I was just upset about him leaving. 

I sit upright and look at him. He puts a hand up to my face, and for a second it reminds me of Dad touching my cheek last night. 

“What's up?” He's seen me flinch away. 

“Can I tell you something? Something difficult?” 

“You can tell me anything, as long as it's not that you've got some secret lover hidden away.” 

It's not true, but it's close enough to make me feel sick. 

“You haven't, have you?” 

“No. No, but promise me…” I trail off. I don't know what I want him to promise. Not to be shocked, not to blame me, not to hate me? 

“Hey. Why don't you get it out?” 

“There's something happening, at home. There's a big row going on, with my dad.” 

“Has he been having an affair? Mid-life crisis?” 

“Not having an affair, exactly.” 

He's getting impatient, not enjoying trying to get me to tell him, and I'm feeling smaller and smaller. It's so hard to explain. 

“What then?” 

I'd forgotten for a minute he knows Hannah, they're in the same group. They've known each other for years, not close or anything, but in the same group all the way through secondary. I can't tell him. 

My phone goes and it's Mum. She wants me back, now. She's got important things we have to talk about, she says. I tell her I'll be back soon. I'm relieved I have to go, but I'm feeling so sad. I've ruined the best thing that's happened, ever. The closeness has gone and I so want to turn back the clock and begin again. I tell him I have to go, and I lean towards him to kiss him, but something in his face makes me back away. I pick up my stuff and leave him sitting there on the bench. 

The last place I want to go is home.

The back room door is open and there's no sign of Dad. Mum and Hannah are sitting close together in the kitchen. Hannah's face looks blotchy like she's been crying again. Mum's face doesn't look too good either. George is in the living room playing games. I can hear the playstation clicking. 

“Come in love. I need to let you know what's happening.” 

I go in and sit opposite them both. My heart's heavy. I'm still seeing the shock in Raj's eyes, feeling him pull back from me. 

“What's up?” As if I didn't know. 

“Your dad.” She usually calls him by his name, but not this time. “He's not here.” 

“Where's he gone?” 

“We talked this morning. There's no way we can go on like we have been. Not now. He's gone to stay with Andy and Jill. For a while. To give us a chance to work out where we go from here. Though right now I'm so angry with him I never want to see him again.” 

The thought of never seeing him again was terrible, in spite of everything. 

“I have to say to you both how sorry I am that this has been happening in our house and I didn't see it.” There's a sob in her voice. 

“You've been so busy.” Hannah was standing up for her, as usual. 

“No Hannah love, that's not a good enough reason not to realise. But we have to sort it all out now. I've rung work, and I'm taking some time off. They understand.” 

“You haven't told them!” 

“You'll have to get used to it – I won't say any more than I have to, but the secrets have to stop right here.” She's sounding deadly serious. 

The doorbell rings and there's the sound of a key in the lock. It's Dad. 

I can't see him from where I'm sitting, but I know he's standing behind me in the doorway. Hannah's got her head back down. 

“I want you all to know something. I left my bag at Andy's, then I went to the police station. I told them. What I'd done.” 

Mum is looking right at him, and I see her white, angry face. 

“They took a statement, and said they'd contact social services. They'll be visiting you.” 

“And they let you out?” Mum's cold voice again. 

“They said they'll be charging me tomorrow. They seem to think I won't be going anywhere, not now I've confessed. I have to go down there in the morning. You won't be wanting me back here. I'll leave the keys on the hall table. You know where I am.” 

He's starting to go, and I have to see him, so I turn round and look into his face. 

“I'm so sorry, Mel. And Hannah, I've done you great harm. I don't think I knew…” 

Mum stops him. 

“Get out Steve. Don't give us your excuses. Leave your keys and go.” 

“Bye Dad.” I have to say it, I can't treat him like he doesn't exist. He's done everything he's done, but he's still my dad, the one I love. Or can I love him now, ever again? 

He looks at me and he's filling up with tears. And he turns away and I hear the sound of his keys dropping on the hall table and the front door opening and closing behind him and his footsteps down the street. He's gone.

My phone's going. It's Chloe. 

“Where are you?” 

“I'm at home.” I keep breathing. 

“You want to meet up?” 

“Don't know – not sure if I'm allowed.” Not sure if I can face it. 

“I need to talk to you – think I've found out – what's going on.” 

“Yeah?” I'm trying to be interested. She's my best friend. It's what best friends do. 

“Look, can't talk about it now, I'll meet you – by the park. Five minutes?” 

“No, not the park.” Raj might still be down there. 

“Yours?” 

“NO!” I can't help the panic in my voice. 

“Where then?” 

“Round the shops. In five.” 

I look at my face in the mirror. My eyes are puffy, but not too bad. Find my sunglasses. Listen at the door to see if anyone's around. Listen at the top of the stairs. The TV's on, and the kitchen door's shut, with Hannah and Mum talking behind it. 

I creep downstairs, get my trainers on, and escape without anyone noticing. 

The world looks normal, like nobody knows what's happening. It's unbelievable. It settles round me, like a cloak or something. I'm not going to tell Chloe. I can't. 

She's leaning on the wall at the shops, texting, but she puts the phone away when she sees me. 

“Hey,” she says. 

“Hey.” This is not as easy as I thought. Chloe's got x-ray eyes. 

“So what's happening?” I say, “What have you found out?” 

“I've ruled out pregnant.” 

“How?” 

“I told her – about Kate's mum, and the baby and everything. To see how she reacted.” 

“And how did she?” I'm finding this hard to keep up, but it's at least something different. 

“I asked her – had she ever thought of it, having another one. And she said no, us two was enough for her, and she looked all misty and embarrassing.” 

“And then what?” 

“Then she changed the subject.” 

“So what else is on the list? You said you thought you knew.” 

“I had — they're splitting up. Or one of them's in trouble at work. Or maybe he's having an affair. Or she is.” 

“They couldn't be.” 

“No, it doesn't all fit together. Do you know what I think?” 

I'm struggling here. “What?” 

“I think it's a
good
secret. Like something they're not sure about telling yet, but something they're happy about. They wouldn't be able to hide something bad from me.” 

I'm standing there hiding something really really bad. And Chloe's famous x-ray eyes haven't seen a thing. 

“Oh.” It would be a good secret. In Chloe's family. It would be. I am so jealous. So jealous I want to tear out her hair with my fingernails and make her cry. 

“I know it's something good – but what if it's something good for them, but not for me? What if they're keeping it a secret because they know I'll hate it? Like they want to move away from Leicester? I think that's it. I think they want to move, and they daren't tell me. What if they want to emigrate?” 

I can't stand it. I can't be here and listen to my best friend telling me she's going away, after Raj and everything else. 

“You are so selfish!” I yell, not caring who hears me. 

“Mel!” She's looking really shocked. 

“You are – you only think about yourself. You you you. I've got to go.” 

She's standing there with her mouth open. 

I turn and run.

I still haven't heard from Raj. I'm not going to school tomorrow, and Mum's staying home. It's six. We've been talking all day, and this afternoon she's done more sorting and tidying, going into the back of cupboards like we've been digging into the back of our lives, getting out what's old and dirty and doesn't much like the light. There's a pile of black bags by the wheelie bin. 

We all sit in the living room that evening, not Dad of course. We're talked out. We sit and watch anything, soaps, comedies, anything. We go to bed early. I sleep. I'd like to sleep forever but I wake up and it's all still happening. 

In the morning the social workers are coming. They phoned to say. Mum's nervous, I can tell. She's worried we'll get taken away. I'm worried too, I don't want to go anywhere. Dad's gone, but anything could happen. It's the appointment time, and the kitchen's clean and even the living room is cleared up. 

“They're not coming to inspect the house. It's us they want to talk to,” I tell her as she dusts. 

“I know, but it helps me to be busy. You just tell them everything, that's all that matters.”

Trouble is, I'm beginning to wonder what's happened myself. Remembering seems strange, like it easily gets mixed up with imagining, or planning, or rearranging things in your mind when something's happened. I've gone over it so many times. And then there's the good place. When I'm in there I don't think I notice much of what's going on outside. 

Hannah's got dressed, and she's tied her hair back in a band so you can see her face. She's lost some weight, but this is no time for telling her so. 

“They can't make me say it all, can they Mum?” she says. 

“I don't think so. Maybe it's best to think of ways of explaining without going into all the details.” Mum looks disgusted. 

The doorbell rings and there's two of them. She's young and friendly, but he's older and he's wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. He puts it on the kitchen table like he lives here and gets out a folder with ‘Philips' on it. The folder already has lots of papers inside. 

She does the talking, introduces herself as Sabina. 

“This is Mr. Duncan. Pete.” He doesn't look like a Pete. “There's always two of us on visits like this. Mr Philips isn't here?” 

“No, he's moved out for the moment. To some friends near here. He left the keys with us so he can't get in.” 

“He's never been violent? Except for the abuse, that is?”