Caramel Hearts (4 page)

Chapter Six

My Cool Stakes Will Fly through the Roof

When I knock on Mr Morrelly's office door at 12.03 p.m., I feel like I'm about to be sent down for a crime I didn't commit. Hatty owes me big time.

“Come in,” calls a deep, thundering voice.

Mr Morrelly – Old Mozzer to us – is a giant. He's well over six foot. It must be difficult to find clothing that fits because all his suits have weird collars and look like they're from the seventies. He has massive, thick glasses and his hair sits in clumps on his head like a heron. Despite being head teacher, he's all right. As all right as a head teacher can be. But he has this annoying habit of pacing when he's cross. It's a dead giveaway. I take a deep breath and push open the door. Thankfully, he's seated with his hands clasped on his desk. I let out my breath and stand in the middle of the room, swapping from foot to foot.

With his back to the window and his face in shadow, Mr Morrelly looks even bigger than normal, and when he gestures for me to sit down, his hand looks massive, reminding me of the BFG. I have to fight to keep a smile off my face.

“Olivia,” he says, in that way which makes it sound like I should be able to read his mind and
tell him instantly whatever it is that he wants to know.

“Yes, sir?”

“Home. How are things?”

“Fine, sir.”

“And Harriet?”

“Fine, sir.”

“Mrs Pearl – she says there have been some… issues. Anything you'd like to discuss?”

“No, sir.”

He stares at me for a while and I feel his eyes bore into me. I imagine them coming out on mechanical stalks and tunnelling their way up my nostrils, right into my brain, so he can see the blind panic racing through it. I fight to stay calm but I feel my armpits heating up and turning sticky.

“Very well. But your grades could do with a bit of improvement – and playing truant won't help. I have my eye on you.” I squirm in my seat as he peers over his thick rims. Then his tone relaxes. “Your well-being is our first priority – so if you ever feel the need to come and talk, to let off some steam, you know where I am.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Is that all, sir?”

He pauses for a bit too long, and as a throbbing feeling attacks my temples, I imagine his mechanical eye-stalks retracting and taking a wrong turn, bumping into my brain.

I'm so busy daydreaming, I don't hear his dismissal.

“I said yes, Olivia, that is all,” he repeats, a mild frown on his face as I turn and scurry away.

* * *

My throat goes dry as I leave the office behind – so much for keeping our noses clean. Hatty's stupid phone call has got me walking around with bells and whistles on. I blow air upwards, across my face, hoping my skin hasn't turned blotchy like it usually does when I stress out.

That's the trouble with being a redhead – you have the delicate skin to go with it. As I turn into the busy corridor, head bowed, I bump straight into someone – Chris bloody Murchison – and then rebound into his mate.

“Sorry!” I say.

It's only Jack Whitman. There's no hiding the colour in my cheeks now.

“It's OK. I like being a human domino.”

I laugh way too loudly, and immediately wish I could stuff the sound back in my gob. I can't believe Jack is talking to me. Neither can Chris – he tries pulling Jack away, but Jack signals for him to go ahead.

“You just been to see Old Mozzer?” he asks, pointing towards the head teacher's office.

I nod. I can imagine the stupid look on my face. I'm just pleased Sarah isn't here. Sarah! I check my watch – I'm already ten minutes late. If I don't hurry up, I'll miss her.

“What did you do?” continues Jack.

“I'm innocent. I was just unfortunate enough to be born into a family of morons,” I say, hoping it sounds witty, if a little mean.

Jack laughs. “That sounds serious. But honestly… Seems you've been getting it in the neck quite a bit recently.”

And here's me thinking Jack doesn't even know I exist.

“It's too embarrassing to even bother explaining,” I reply.

If I started walking towards the lunch hall, I should still be able to catch Sarah. But my legs are glued to the spot.

“I could find a way to get it out of you.”

Before I realize what's happening, Jack reaches out and grabs me by the wrist. He tickles me under my armpit – of all places – with a big, soppy grin on his face. I can't help screeching – but when the other kids turn to look, I don't care. They'll see I'm with Jack and my cool stakes will fly through the roof.

Or at least they'll move away from zero.

“OK, OK! Mercy!” I cry.

“Tell, or I keep going for ever.”

I'm still giggling when Maddy pushes her way towards us – she must have finished her dinner already. She's not particularly pretty, but she has perfect boobs and deep blue eyes, and is always dead trendy. She always wears the latest fashions because her mam's best friends with the shoplifters. She even manages to make the school uniform look cool. Maddy's eyes flick from my face to Jack's questioningly, and my heart pumps in my chest. I can hear the blood in my ears.

“What's going on here, guys?” asks Maddy – all sweetness, but I can tell by the way her lips tighten in the corners that she's livid.

Whenever she pulls that face, I think about the time the three of us – me, Maddy and Sarah – were playing in the sandpit and her dad came early to take her home from school. Maddy refused to go and, when the teachers weren't looking, he slapped her right across the face. She didn't cry. Didn't even make a noise, despite the raw, red handprint. Just pressed her lips together and followed him out of the room.

“I'm holding Liv captive until she tells me what I want to know.”

Maddy raises an eyebrow.

“Why don't you put the boy out of his misery?” she asks, but the tone is more of an order than a question.

Jack doesn't seem to notice. Mam always says men don't pick up on subtleties.

“I got caught nicking off school yesterday,” I say quickly.

Jack lets go and feigns complete horror.

“My word, Liv. I'm shocked. That's like so—”

“Lame,” says Maddy.

“It is a bit,” Jack chuckles, and turns to go, so I blurt out the first thing I can think of.

“What they don't know is that I set the house on fire.”

A slight exaggeration, and hardly something I should share, but it makes Jack stop in his tracks. And Maddy too.

“And Old Mozzer knows that?” asks Jack, his eyes widening.

“Not exactly.”

“Didn't you know her mam's an alky?” asks Maddy innocently.

Her words cut right through me. Why would she say such a thing? I'd never bad-mouth her family like that, even though they're way worse than mine. I know we're no longer close, but still! I daren't look Jack in the eye. That's the last I'll ever be talking to him then.

“My dad was too,” says Jack. “But he's off it now. So I know how it feels.”

The way her face crumples, you'd think someone had hit Maddy head-on with a shovel.

“You never told me that,” she says, linking his arm and pulling him away without a backward glance.

I can feel the sense of victory fizzing off her – even though Maddy always makes sure she wins, she never tires of it.

Giving them a few minutes' head start, I go in search of Sarah – but I'm too late. I just hope she managed to keep out of Maddy's way.

* * *

Sarah isn't in our usual meeting spot at home-time, but I can see her blonde ponytail bobbing its way across the Rec, so I race to catch up with her.

“Hey, am I late?” I ask, knowing full well that I'm not.

Sarah keeps walking at top speed, her head down. I grab her by her jacket sleeve.

“Hey, what's going on?”

When she looks up, there are tears streaking her cheeks.

“Sarah, what's wrong?” I say. “What happened?”

“Your g-good friend, M-Mad Dog, that's what,” she says. “I couldn't wait for you, Liv. She said if she saw me after school, she'd kill me.”

“I know she has a pretty nasty mouth on her, but she wouldn't hit you. Her friends, maybe, but not—”

“Oh really?” snaps Sarah, yanking up her coat sleeve.

There's a nasty purple bruise on her forearm.

“She did that? Are you sure?”

“No, Liv, I'm making it up. Of course I'm sure! She followed me out of the dinner hall, got me in the toilets. Said my s-stammer was so disgusting, it was stopping her from being able to eat.”

“Was she on her own?”

“Yes. So you can't blame her friends this time.”

Maddy's gang of friends can make your life hell if they choose to, and they love that fact that Sarah's stammer gets worse when they mention it. I always see Maddy hanging back, but Sarah's been saying for months that she's even worse than the rest – I thought she was just jealous because Maddy wants to hang out with me now and again. I really wasn't expecting this.

“Do you want me to have a word?”

Sarah looks at me like I have two heads.

“Are you crazy? It'll only make things worse. Why do you hang out with her, anyway, when she's such a cow?”

It's not an easy question to answer. “She's never done anything to me,” I say.

Sarah doesn't speak to me the rest of the way home. Even when we part, she ignores my goodbye.

Gooey Chewy Flapjacks

When the clouds are grey and it's raining in your heart, the only thing that can make the skies blue again is a good dose of sweet, chewy flapjack. Golden, sweet and definitely moreish – they'll bring out the rainbows in your soul.

INGREDIENTS

200 g/7 oz unsalted butter

200 g/7 oz demerara sugar – the good stuff

200 g/7 oz runny honey (otherwise known as liquid gold)

400 g/14 oz porridge oats

70 g/2½ oz mix of rainbow-coloured treats (remember the old saying – “Richard of York Gave Battle in Vain” – that'll help you remember your rainbow colours!) Try using dried cranberries (red), sultanas/toasted desiccated coconut (yellow) pumpkin seeds (green), sour cherries (that's artistic licence for blue), prunes (indigo) and sugared violet petals
.

HOW TO MAKE THE MAGIC HAPPEN

1. Preheat the oven to 180 °C/350 °F/Gas mark 4.

2. Grease a 20 cm x 30 cm (8 in. x 12 in.) cake tin. Heat the butter, sugar and honey in a saucepan, stirring occasionally. Make a wish as you stir – it'll help make the clouds go away.

3. When the butter has melted and the sugar dissolved, add the oats and all the healthy, tasty goodness and mix well. After all, you are what you eat – and you need rainbow colours to make rainbows appear.

4. Transfer the oat mixture to the cake tin and spread to about 2 cm (¾ in.) thick. Smooth the surface with the back of a spoon (and don't freak out when you see your face reflected upside down – you should know by now, this is a crazy world, my friend). Bake for 15–20 minutes, until lightly golden around the edges, but still slightly soft in the middle.

5. Let the flapjacks cool in the tin, then turn out and cut into squares. Take a bite and watch the rainbows explode, right side up.

Chapter Seven

Don't Air Your Dirty Linen in Public

When I get home, I head straight for my bedroom. After she's taken back her promise to help me with my baking, and put me under the spotlight with her stupid phone call, I'm in no mood to talk to my sister.

“Liv, is that you?” shouts Harriet from the kitchen.

“Who else?” I slam my door shut and blast Johnny Cash at high volume, then sit on the floor with my back against the door. When Mam left for Ashgrove House the first time, I took her ancient record player and vinyl collection. That's when I discovered Johnny Cash. Hatty says I'm like an old lady, says the music is too dark and depressing, but I think the melancholic guitar riffs are lovely. It's like the music understands how I feel. So now, whenever Mam goes to Ashgrove House, I commandeer the record player.

The door jerks, banging against my back.

“Liv!”

“What?”

“I need you in the kitchen.” The door nudges again but I stay put. “What are you doing in there?”

“I'm getting changed! I'll be down when I'm dressed.”

I don't move until I hear her stomp down the stairs. In the kitchen, I find Harriet leaning against the counter, glowering at a couple of bags of groceries.

“What's for tea?” I ask, peering into the bags.

Harriet slams a cupboard shut. Like a loser, I jump.

“What's wrong with you now, Hatty?”

“What makes you think something's wrong?”

“What have I done?”

“Nothing! That's the point! You come in, stomp up the stairs without even saying hello.”

“So?”

“So? I had a life in Edinburgh. I should be with my mates or working on assignments. Not playing Mam to a spoilt brat who can't even say hello!”

“All this is because I didn't say hello?” I roll my eyes, knowing how much it winds her up. “I'm sorry. Hell-o-o. There, better?”

“There's no need to be sarcastic. As usual, you're missing the point.”

“So enlighten me,” I say.

She looks like she wants to shake me but thinks better of it.

“Would it hurt you to help a bit round here? You're fourteen – old enough to stand on your own two feet. When I was your age, I was looking after you. You're too lazy to unpack a few bags of shopping!”

“So that's what this is about. Unpacking shopping. Why didn't you just ask?”

“I shouldn't have to. And it's not just that. It's uniforms, and nicking off school and trying to burn the place down.”

“I thought we were done talking about that this morning,” I say.

Hatty slumps down on a kitchen chair and rubs the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. I should leave her alone. She looks wrecked. Her hair is straggly and
her skin sallow. And she's put on a few pounds. I try to keep my mouth shut as I unpack the food. Bread, beans, cornflakes, cheese, butter, milk, pasta: the essentials to keep us going, but nothing exciting. And all Asda's own brand.

“No treats, I see.”

“No, Liv, no treats. We only have your child allowance and my student loan – which is running out fast. If I'd got that job, then we'd have been just about OK.”

I stop, suddenly realizing what the real issue is.

“You didn't get it? I thought you said the interview went well.”

“It did, but they reckon I'm over-qualified. Called me today, advising me to continue with my studies. Chance would be a fine thing!”

Guilt plucks at my stomach.

“You'll go back to uni, Hatty, and you'll forget all about this place. You'll finish your degree.”

“I used to think so.”

As soon as the shopping is away, I put the kettle on to boil and make some sandwiches for tea. Spooning coffee into Harriet's favourite “
carpe diem
” mug, an empty feeling wells in my stomach. As I hand Harriet her drink, the emptiness turns into anger. None of this is fair on either of us. Why should we suffer because of Mam? I decide to try and cheer Harriet up by asking about her favourite topic: uni.

“Have you heard from your uni friends lately?”

“No.”

“Will you tell me about that time the lad came streaking through the uni bar with his pants on his head? That was dead funny.”

“Another time, Liv. I'm not in the mood.”

I butter four slices of bread and grate a thin layer of cheddar on top of each. I prefer the cheese in slices but it doesn't last as long.

“So you haven't heard from anyone?”

“No. I'm trying not to call too often.”

“Why?”

“I don't want them to get sick of me or think I'm a pest.”

“Why would they think you're a pest?”

“They're all so together: nice families and stuff. I don't want to be bothering them with my freaky family.”

“Thanks!” I say, only slightly hurt. “But that sounds dumb to me.”

Harriet shakes her head and sighs.

“You'll understand when you're older.”

She trusts me one minute, then acts like I'm a kid the next. Frowning, I put the tops on the sandwiches and cut them down the centre. Triangles for me, rectangles for my sister.

“If I was you and I'd had bad news, I'd call my friends. Who else can you count on?”

Harriet's face twists into a smile.

“You know what? You're right. I'll call Robin. She's always happy to listen to a good rant.”

I follow Harriet into the passageway and lean against the wall, munching one of my sandwiches. As soon as Robin answers the call, Harriet signals for me to skedaddle. I do, but I can't resist listening in from the landing as I read through the flapjack recipe, trying to figure out where to get the stuff from. There's quite a bit needed, and some of it sounds expensive. As I read, I listen in to Hatty's conversation. I have to shove my
hand over my mouth every time she says something using Edinburgh slang. But then her words take an unexpected turn.

“Yeah, I'm OK. Tired. And missing Edinburgh. You'll never guess what Liv did this time.”

There is a pause. I listen closely, my giggles falling away as I grip the banister.

“Ah no, this is a good one,” Harriet chuckles into the phone. “Even I can hardly believe it. She only went and set the house on fire.”

There is a long pause this time.

“It wasn't on purpose. It was a cooking accident. Which is weird, seeing as no one in my family cooks.”

Shame and anger battle it out in my gut. How dare Hatty discuss me like this? If Mam taught us anything, it's that you don't air your dirty linen in public.

“She was making shortbread and it caught fire. The oven's filthy and the ceiling's all black. I swear she's a right handful.”

My anger sizzles and bubbles, threatening to erupt. I should stop eavesdropping, but I can't tear myself away.

“Oh, Robin, not this again! I told you before, I know you're concerned about me, but I can't put her in a foster home. I'm her big sister. I have to look after her.”

My jaw drops and it feels like a ton of something cold and horrible has just landed on my head. Whoever this Robin is, she wants Harriet to dump me in care!

Memories of when we were both in foster care for a few months come flooding back. I was just five and the people looking after me were really nice. They took me to the park and on woodland walks, made me jam sandwiches for tea and let me wear my favourite dresses – even though
Mam said they were only for best – but I couldn't stop crying the whole time. All I could think about was Hatty. Her absence was like a big monster trying to swallow me whole. I can't even remember what the nice couple looked like – all I can remember is the emptiness. Robin will never persuade her.

“I know she's making life difficult, but uni has to wait. I can't give up on her. Not yet. She has no one else.”

Hurt swells inside my heart, and I swallow hard. Creeping quietly into my room, I whack Johnny Cash up to full volume and throw myself on the bed, face to the ceiling and jaw clenched – not
yet
?