By Any Other Name (17 page)

‘Yeah, they’re trying to decide whether to exclude me or stick me in the Time Out room for a day. Personally I’d rather they excluded me.’

I didn’t expect him to come out with that. ‘Why?’

‘Places I’d rather be than here.’

That’s a puzzle, but I sense he’s given away all he’s going to when he takes a last drag of his cigarette and then crushes the stub under his heel. ‘So why are you up
here?’

Good question. Why am I? ‘Checking you’re OK.’ There’s nothing like frankness to disarm an enemy, if he still is an enemy – I’m not sure yet.

‘Why would you want to do that?’

‘Well, despite your amazing charm and friendliness at every point until yesterday, I wanted to see you suffer so I was hoping you were up here beating your head to a bloody pulp against a
tree or something.’

He laughs. He’s got a nice laugh. It sounds surprised at being let out but happy to be freed too. ‘Do you want me to start now?’

I shake my head. ‘No, I might get splashed by the blood. Do you think you could try some mental self-torture instead?’

‘Look,’ he says, rolling his eyes, ‘just because I dress like this, it doesn’t mean I do all that emotional shit. I’m off a farm – we don’t do affected
on farms.’

Well, what do you know? Emo’s quite funny in his way. I giggle.

He hides another smile by ducking his head to look at the ground-up cigarette butt. ‘So, you still bothered about all that stuff the other day?’

‘No, they’re not worth it. You were right. And after what they said about my sister, I know they’re scum.’ I can’t help my voice rising in anger at that last part.
I am still mad about what Cam said, and about how the rest silently supported her.

‘Said what about your sister?’ He looks puzzled. I guess he didn’t hear that part.

‘Camilla called her a spaz and none of the others said anything to her about that, but they were quick enough to criticise Katie when they thought she’d been rude to Cam and
–’

‘Woah! I’m not following. Where does your sister come into it? I didn’t even know you had a sister.’

‘Yeah, she’s eight. She’s autistic. I take her to the playground lots – she loves swings – and they were there this one time. Cam came over and said something to
her and then Katie told her she didn’t like her. She doesn’t understand that’s not right. And Cam and her friends got on to me for not telling her off, even though I told them she
has autism.’

‘And then Crudmilla called her a spaz?’

I have to snigger at Crudmilla. ‘Yes.’

He shakes his head at me. ‘She’s such a bitch. You know she’s after your boyfriend.’

‘He’s not my boyfriend.’ Joe raises an eyebrow at me. ‘Well, not any more.’

‘You’re well rid,’ he says, kicking against the tree trunk with his toe. ‘I’ve known him since reception class and he’s always been the same.’

‘I think I liked the idea of him better than I liked
him
–’ I stop, confused by why I started down that track, but Joe grins and nods as if he understands exactly what I
mean.

‘I’ve got to go – they only gave me a ten-minute break and I’m late already.’ He leans up off the tree.

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ I genuinely didn’t want him to get in trouble because of me.

‘Not your fault. I always intended to be late.’ He winks at me and starts to walk off back towards school, then he turns. ‘You say your sister likes swings?’ I nod.
‘Bring her over to mine after school if you want. My dad made us a great swing when we were little. It still works.’

‘Oh . . . oh . . . thanks . . .’

‘I live on the farm down the footpath at the back of Rowan Close. Crow Trees Farm.’ And he walks off again, scrambling easily over the hedge and back into the school grounds.

I shake my head vigorously. Did that just happen? The more I find out about Joe, the more confused I become . . .

K
atie hops up and down on one leg. ‘Swing? A new swing?’

‘Yes, Pops, we’re going to try out a new swing.’

‘Now?’

‘As soon as you change your shoes. Put your old trainers on and get your coat.’ I’ve never been on a farm but I suspect it might be muddy.

I hold Katie’s hand as we walk through the cul-de-sac that leads to Joe’s footpath.

‘Ooh, cows!’

She points at a field of small cows, which might be full-grown adult ones – I’m not sure. Katie’s entranced and pulls free of my hand to trot over to the fence.

‘Moo!’

A couple of the cows turn to look at her, big dark eyes with long, long lashes regarding her gently. One wanders over and she holds her hand out. I hold my breath. What if it
bites her? But she wants to make friends . . .

The cow must be a baby one because when it gets closer I can see it really is small. It sticks out its tongue and licks her. Katie giggles and looks round at me. I give her a big grin and a
thumbs up. She moos gently at the cow again, and it raises its head and stares at her. She stares back at it and it looks like they’re talking silently to each other. Katie bends and plucks
some grass and feeds it to the cow. The others start to wander over and I step back, but she isn’t afraid. She reaches over the fence and strokes several noses in turn.

When she looks back at me again, I hold my hand out. ‘Come on, Pops, time to go.’ Her face is shining with excitement but she comes readily and waves goodbye to the cows.

As we turn back on to the footpath, I see Joe leaning against the fence some way down the path. He starts towards us, collie at his heels.

‘Hey,’ he says to me, and then, ‘Hi, Katie, I’m Joe.’

Katie observes him with her special ‘Katie weighing you up’ serious face. ‘Hello. What’s your dog’s name?’

‘Kip.’

She crouches down. ‘Hello, Kip.’

Joe clicks his fingers and the collie darts forward, released, and licks Katie’s face. She puts her arms round its neck and hugs.

‘Katie, be careful! Don’t squash it!’

‘Him,’ Joe says. ‘And she’s OK. She’s not squeezing too hard.’

Katie looks up at him. ‘This is a good dog.’

He grins at her. ‘I think so too. Did you like the heifers?’ We must both look blank because he laughs. ‘Townies! The cows . . . heifers are young cows.’

‘They were good too,’ Katie pronounces. She makes me laugh – she says stuff like that with such authority.

It makes Joe chuckle as well. ‘So you’ve come to have a go on the swing?’ he asks her.

Katie leaps up, nodding, and Joe jerks his head, beckoning us to follow. The dog trots behind with Katie, who’s talking a stream of some nonsense to it as we walk.

‘How did you know we were here?’ I ask.

‘Saw you from my bedroom window. I had a shower after milking and I was getting dressed again.’

I feel slightly odd at the thought of him dripping wet and in a towel. Not turned on or anything – just hard to imagine. But then so is the thought of him milking!

‘How many cows have you got?’

‘A hundred and twenty that we milk, and then there’s the heifers and calves as well.’ He sniggers when I gasp. ‘You do know we don’t milk them by hand, right? Like,
we use BIG machines.’

‘Of course I know that.’ I stick my nose in the air. Actually I had no idea and I know he knows that from the way he laughs at me.

We continue down the track towards the house. The windows are black painted wood frames with small panes, and the front door is painted to match. There are hanging baskets too, but apart from
those and the flower beds under the window, there’s nothing decorative around. It’s a working farm and it looks sturdily practical. Just before we get into the yard, Joe veers off round
the side of a barn and leads us into a big field with lots of trees. There’s a swing at the far end, facing out towards a range of hills in the distance. Katie shouts when she sees the swing
and runs forward, the collie trotting after her. We follow more slowly and I realise we’re walking across an orchard. There’s blossom beginning to bud on one tree and the rest will
probably break out soon. It must look beautiful here then, with the daffodils growing in clumps between the trees.

Katie settles herself on an old but cared-for wooden seat that’s tied to the thick branch above by strong rope.

‘Push me!’

The dog flops down in the grass well out of the way of the swing as if he’s used to its reach from long practice. When I look more closely at him, I can see the smattering of grey hairs on
his muzzle betraying his age. Joe strolls over and pulls the swing back.

‘Hang on,’ he says as he releases it and sends her whooshing up.

He won’t send her as high as I will and soon she yells for me so I take over. I see him wince as I shoot her up higher and higher. ‘She’ll be fine,’ I tell him and he
nods uncertainly. ‘Didn’t you go higher than this?’

‘Yeah, but . . .’ He frowns and laughs at himself. ‘I was going to say “But she’s a girl,” then I decided you might not like that.’

‘And you thought right.’ I grin and kick out at his ankle, knowing I won’t make contact. He dances away and sticks his tongue out at me. A frisson of something passes through
me – the contrast of Emo with cheeky boy. It’s somehow appealing in a very, very odd way.

If Tasha could see me now, she’d hoot with laughter. I’m standing in a rustic orchard with a weird Emo boy, pushing my sister on a home-made swing with an old dog watching us, and I
feel closer to happy than I’ve felt in ages.

Woah!

That’s strange but true.

How come?

Maybe it’s his vibe – I don’t feel like putting on an act around him. I don’t feel it’d impress him at all. Or is it that being out here reminds me of the Cornish
cottage before it became a bad memory? Whatever it is, I feel . . . relaxed, yes, that’s it.

No tension, no anxiety, no pretence or artifice. Like I do with Katie when we’re alone, but more so because I feel
safe
down here in this field. Like nothing bad ever comes
here.

How can you go from disliking someone so much to feeling like this? Lou never would have, I don’t think. But then she never had reason to. Everything was so simple and clear-cut before
that summer. And everything’s so different now. Holly’s still learning, I guess, and maybe she’s that bit smarter than Lou ever was.

I let Katie swing free and turn to catch him watching me again. There’s a slight curve to his mouth that wants to be a smile if he’d let it. ‘Why were you so . . . so . .
.?’

‘So what?’

‘When I moved here, you were so . . .’ I can’t find the word. Hostile? Hating?

He sighs. ‘Yeah, I know. I dunno really.’

I’m not buying that. He’s too smart. ‘That’s a cop-out.’

He laughs, that surprisingly deep chuckle again. It’s infectious and I almost join in. ‘Yeah, it is. You won’t like the truth though.’ He looks at me with solemn eyes. I
have an idea that there’s more going on behind those eyes than anyone imagines.

‘Probably not but I don’t think it’ll be such a big surprise. I know you didn’t like me on sight. You gave me the filthiest look ever the moment you saw me. And then at
school that first day, you made it totally clear you didn’t want me to sit with you.’

He shrugs, looking a touch ashamed. ‘It’s no excuse, but I was having a really bad day. A bad week actually.’

‘Oh, why?’

‘Got some bad news.’ He shakes his head as if to dispel a memory. ‘And then I walked up the road and there you were, standing on the pavement looking as if the rest of the
world was a bad smell under your nose.’

‘I was?’ That wasn’t quite how I remembered it.

‘Yeah, and I thought, ‘Stuck-up bitch.’ Then you looked at me, like I was dirt on your shoe.’

This definitely wasn’t how I remembered it. ‘I did not!’

‘You mean you weren’t thinking what a dump the place is and how crap we all are?’

I feel myself flush up from the base of my neck right across my cheeks. Because it’s true. I never realised that it showed to others though. But now Joe’s said it, and Cam said
something like it too . . .

He raises his eyebrow questioningly at my silence.

‘I don’t know.’ My eyes get stingy and to my horror I feel like I’m about to cry. I don’t do that, especially not in public with strange boys.

He shakes his head vigorously and I think I must be giving myself away. ‘Doesn’t matter, does it? If you think it, why hide it?’

Because my whole life is based on people having the right perceptions of me. For my image to fit. For the right people to like me. That’s how it was before too.

Is it any wonder I don’t know who Holly is when I’m not even sure I know who Lou was . . .

My eyes fill up and I spin on my heel. ‘I’ve got to take my sister home,’ I say, fighting to make my voice sound normal. ‘Katie, come on, please. Now!’

She doesn’t want to come and yelps to tell me that, but I’m walking away and perhaps her tummy is rumbling for her tea because she follows me when she sees I’m not changing my
mind. I’m relieved when Joe doesn’t come after us.

I walk back up the hill. Katie catches up and then scampers ahead towards home while I blink and blink to keep the tears in.

I just looked
me
in the face and I don’t like what I saw.