Summer of Secrets (6 page)

ELEVEN

Finding herself unable to concentrate, Rhi left Polly's house earlier than the others, intending to go home. Instead, she found herself down on the beach, curled up among the rocks where she had sat only a few days earlier, watching the sea and thinking. It wasn't until the tide began to lap at her toes that she stood up and started the long trudge home. Her school bag felt absurdly heavy on her back.

It started the moment she came through the door.

“How was your first exam?” Her mother's eyes flicked over Rhi's sandy uniform. “It's late. Where have you been?”

Rhi paused on the stairs. At least she could look her mother in the eye on this one. “Studying at Polly's with the others.”

Her mother looked relieved. “Thank goodness you're starting to take things more seriously. I hope you were working and not chattering?”

The quiet haven of her bedroom was so close. “Not now, Mum,” Rhi said, reaching for her door handle.

Her mother was up the stairs in a flash, standing beside Rhi as she tried to get into her room. “What does that mean? You
were
studying, weren't you?”

Rhi went into her room and shut the door as firmly as she dared. All she wanted to do was pick up her guitar and work on the song she'd written for Ruth the day before. She'd been thinking about it down on the beach, and she knew it wasn't quite as she wanted it. The rhymes were still rough around the edges, and the chorus wasn't right. She put down her bag and slung her guitar around her neck, closed her eyes and summoned up the opening chords of the song.

The door opened. Rhi swung round. Her mother folded her arms and raised her eyebrows enquiringly at the guitar around Rhi's neck.

“I didn't say you could come in!” Rhi blurted.

Her mother made an inarticulate sound of frustration. “How many times do I have to tell you, you don't have time for singing songs right now! You have two exams tomorrow, French and geography…”

“You think I don't know that?” Rhi shouted.

“Don't shout at me, Rhi. I've had a difficult day. I don't know what else to say to you that will make you realize—”

“Leave me alone, Mum!” Rhi yelled. “Just …
go away
!”

“I've done what I can,” her mother said stiffly, heading out to the landing again. “Your results will prove me right, young lady. Just mark my word. It's your life.”

Only it wasn't, it seemed to Rhi. Everywhere she turned, her mother was there, hanging watchfully over her shoulder, trying to steer her into her own idea of what Rhi's life should be. It was starting to drive Rhi mad.

 

On Tuesday, French passed in a haze of half-finished sentences and blank spaces. There wasn't even a question on irrigation in East Anglia in the geography paper in the afternoon. Rhi dragged herself home straight after school, endured her mother's questions, and barricaded herself in her room. She even wedged a chair under the door handle to prevent any unannounced visits, although the chair didn't prevent her mother from knocking and saying in acid tones through the door: “I'm sure you'd pass a guitar exam with flying colours, Rhi. I wish I had the same confidence in the exams that actually
matter
.”

Wednesday was the easiest day of the week, with only an art exam and a French oral to cope with. The sea air had never smelled so sweet as Rhi hurried out of school with her guitar bouncing on her back. Wednesday night was Heartbeat Café night. A chance to play and sing. An opportunity to see her dad and talk to him. And precious time with Brody. She deserved all three after the week she'd been through.

Her dad was behind the counter, sorting out the big coffee machine. “Rhi!” he exclaimed, setting down various parts of chrome machinery and hurrying out to greet her. “How is exam week going?”

“It just got a lot better,” Rhi said happily, letting him fold her into his arms.

The café was looking a little different from usual. The tables and chairs had been pushed aside and easels dotted the room. Rhi counted ten people clustered around the easels with palettes and brushes in their hands, staring at a still-life arrangement of fruit, plates and glasses that had been set up in front of the stage. The smell of paint in the air was strong.

“Afternoon workshop,” said her dad, noticing Rhi's gaze. “It's all kicking off in here. Ever since that wedding show you and Eve helped me put together the other day, I've been full to bursting with bookings. Art exhibitions, fashion events, that kind of thing. Wedding receptions too. There's one here on Saturday.”

“I know,” Rhi said. “Brody and I are singing.”

Her father nodded. “Of course you are, I'd forgotten. Anyway, through my contacts at the gallery, I've started an art class, as you can see. It was supposed to be mornings only, but the demand was there for an afternoon workshop as well.”

“You look happy,” Rhi said, smiling up at him. She was so glad to see him.

“I am,” he admitted. He looked at his painting class with pride. “Some of them are actually quite good. Listen love, can you help me with the coffee machine? Some of my students are struggling.”

Rhi took over behind the counter as her dad hurried over to his pupils, helping them to hold their paintbrushes more effectively and mix the right colours on their palettes. The whole class was made up of women, she realized. She wasn't sure she liked the way some of them were looking at her father. Like they were flirting. Several of them had piercing laughs that they used a bit too often. The sound set Rhi's teeth on edge, but her dad seemed to be enjoying the attention.

He'll soon be single
, she reminded herself, biting her lip. It was the weirdest thought. She couldn't imagine her dad out with anyone other than her mother.

Polly had warned her that things might get weird when her parents started dating other people. She hadn't said anything about the dating thing happening right away.

He and Mum have only just split up
, she thought in dismay.

The coffee machine was like a giant chrome jigsaw puzzle. However hard Rhi tried to concentrate on putting it back together the way her father had shown her, her eyes kept darting back to her dad and the women. One woman in particular seemed to be getting very touchy-feely. Every time her father passed by, she would reach out and touch him on the elbow, drawing him down to her for a murmured conversation.

“Dad,” Rhi blurted across the counter. “Can I ask you something? It's really important.”

Her father excused himself from his pupils. “What is it?”

Rhi smiled at him hopefully. “Can I see your flat?”

He looked surprised. “Of course, if you'd like to. It's just down the street from here. Ladies, can you wrap this up by yourselves? See you same time next week.” He held up a hand to his class, who all waved their paintbrushes back.

 

Her father's new home was a three-storey climb from the street, and Rhi found herself a little out of breath as he pulled out a set of keys.

“Home sweet home,” he said, pushing the door open.

The flat
was
sweet, with low ceilings and an open-plan layout. Paintings were stacked against the white plastered walls, and stacks of paint supplies and sketchbooks cluttered every available surface. There was a large bedroom and a small box room, with a view over the town roofs and just enough space for a desk and a bed. In the main living space, two small windows looked out towards the sea. Her dad had set up an easel in the sunniest spot in the room, where light poured into the small space from a skylight.

There was what looked like a half-finished painting of a woman on the easel. Before Rhi could get a proper look at it, her dad hastily covered it with an oily bit of tarpaulin.

“What do you think?” he said, spreading his hands.

“It's bigger than I was expecting.” Rhi gazed curiously at the covered easel one more time, then walked over to the pile of paintings stacked against the walls. She picked up the first one: a still life of pebbles and driftwood. Around the edge of the image, her father had captured the foamy frill of seawater as it swept towards the pebbles.

“This is really good, Dad,” Rhi said, staring at the image.

“Do you think so? It was really hard to do that one. The pebbles kept drying out when I was trying to capture their colours. But I'm pleased with the end result.” He smiled with pride. “I'm painting so much at the moment, you wouldn't recognize me.”

He looked happier than Rhi could ever remember. Life in this place suited him. She set the pebble picture aside and picked up another one of a beady-eyed gull on a barnacled rock. Its expression was almost comical.

“You're an amazing artist, Dad,” she said in wonder. “Why don't we have more of your paintings at home?”

“Your mother was never very keen,” he said wryly.

Rhi had a flash vision of going back home tonight, having to face more questions and arguments from her mother. She closed her eyes, hoping to somehow ward off the image.

“Can I come and live with you?” she said, opening her eyes again. “I could have the box room.”

Her father looked anxious. “Rhi, we've talked about this. There isn't room and you need peace for your exams—”

“Peace?” Rhi echoed incredulously. “There's no peace around Mum. You should know that better than anyone.
Please
can I move in? I don't need much space, honestly I don't.” Her eyes darted around the little room, settling on a long red sofa against one wall. “Polly has said I can study round at her house. I can't go back home. I don't want to live there. I want to live with you, and look after you.”

Rhi's father started pacing restlessly from side to side. “It's impossible, Rhi. I keep strange hours, up all night painting … I can't have anyone else here. It's not the right place for you. You really are better off with your mother.”

He was keeping something from her. The way he wouldn't meet her eye – she knew that look. Rhi could feel her heart breaking into pieces.

“You don't care about me at all,” she whispered.

“Of course I care! This … it's difficult to explain… Rhi darling, please don't cry… Come back!”

What was he not telling her? Why was the woman in the picture so hurriedly covered up? Everyone was keeping secrets, Rhi thought as she rushed away down the stairs. First Brody and his song, and now her dad. She couldn't bear it.

Who are you to judge?
said the little voice in her mind.
You're keeping the biggest secret of all.

TWELVE

By the time Rhi came back into the Heartbeat Café, the art group had gone, taking their pictures, paint and easels with them. All that remained was the still life in the centre of the room. It had a surreal quality to it now that the class had gone.

Good riddance
, Rhi thought with a sudden rush of fury. The only reason the women came was to flirt with her father. She thought of the half-finished picture of the woman on the easel her father had covered up. For a moment, she felt as if she was going to be sick.

Brody appeared from the stage door, his guitar around his neck. “Hey,” he said. He gestured at the still life. “What do you think your dad wants us to do with this?”

Rhi couldn't even summon the strength to smile. “Don't ask me. I didn't even know he had an art class.” There was a lot she didn't know about her dad at the moment.

Brody contemplated it. “Maybe we should eat it,” he said. “We could use the plates.”

The fruit did look kind of tempting. Rhi imagined the class rolling up and gaping at a bowl of orange skin, banana peel and mouldy apple cores. When Brody grinned at her, she felt her heart lightening. He had the loveliest smile.

“Give me a hug,” he said.

Rhi went gladly into his arms. She fitted against him so well. Sometimes it felt like she never needed to be anywhere else, ever again.

“I'm sorry for running off again on Sunday,” he said over her head.

Rhi tried not to remember how embarrassed she had felt. “You needed to be somewhere else,” she said against his T-shirt, snuggling a little closer to him. “It wasn't a problem, honestly.”

When she felt him tense under her fingers, she stepped away quickly, keen to avoid giving him the wrong impression all over again. When would she learn that he didn't want things to go any further?

“So.” Brody slid his hands into his back pockets, and then into his front pockets, like he wasn't sure where to put them. “What are we singing tonight?”

Think about the music
, Rhi told herself. “I want to try a new song,” she said bravely. “After that weird mental block I had on Sunday, I did as you said and tried to let the music flow. I've got something that I really hope you'll like.”

“Great! Don't play it to me now – save it.” He pushed a stray curl out of Rhi's eyes and smiled. “You can blow me away along with the rest of the crowd. I know it'll be brilliant because
you
are.”

Rhi wanted to kiss him so badly she could hardly breathe. “Thanks,” she said, swallowing. “You know – for your faith in me. I hope I won't let you down.”

They stared at each other.
This should be so easy
, Rhi thought hopelessly.
The way he looks at me…

Brody broke eye contact. “I guess we should move the still life backstage,” he said, looking back at the bowl of fruit with its glasses and plates. “Give me a hand?”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

By the time they returned from stowing the still-life table, Rhi's father was behind the bar, wiping glasses. Before Rhi could speak to him, the doors banged open and her friends streamed inside.

“I hope you've got some good tunes tonight, guys.” As usual, Ollie's arm was draped around Polly's shoulders. “I need something to take my mind off my terrible German oral this afternoon. It was about health and I totally forgot the words for hospital and doctor. I just kept saying ‘hospital' and ‘doctor' in my best German accent and hoped for the best.”

“German is such an ugly language,” said Eve with a shudder. “French is so much better. Chanel, Givenchy, Dior…”

“Karl Lagerfeld is German,” Polly said. ‘You know, the Chanel designer.”

“I know who Karl Lagerfeld is, Polly,” said Eve. “I saw him once in Paris.” For a moment, Eve looked wistful.

“What's everyone got tomorrow?” asked Ollie, looking anxious.

“More art,” said Josh happily. “My favourite.”

“Urgh,” said Lila, unwrapping herself from Josh for long enough to press her hands to her ears. “We haven't come out to talk about exams, have we? I thought we were here for a good time.”

“And some good music,” Polly added, smiling at Rhi.

The café was filling up already. Wednesdays at the Heartbeat had developed a reputation, and the place was usually full. Rhi felt a flutter of nerves as she settled down at the table with her friends, aware of the way people looked at her now – like she was a little bit famous. She and Brody would be singing in an hour, and she would showcase her new song. A mixture of excitement and terror swirled in her belly at the thought. She had been singing her song about Ruth a lot this week, locked away in her room, playing softly so her mother wouldn't hear. The words and the tune brought her sister back to life in a way Rhi had never dared to hope for.

“Ready?”

Rhi took the hand Brody was holding out to her, trying to ignore the loaded glances of her friends, and followed him backstage. She was determined to sing well tonight, and do Ruth proud.

The room went crazy for “Fast Lane Freak
”
as usual. The song had become a Wednesday night tradition, but somehow it never got stale. They sang several of the covers they'd done at the hippy wedding, and a new one they'd been working on for a couple of weeks called “Seagull Blues”.

“The last song tonight is a surprise,” said Brody into the microphone when their set finally drew to a close. “At least, it's a surprise to me. But not to Rhi. Hopefully.”

Several people laughed.

“They're all yours,” said Brody, turning to Rhi with an encouraging smile. “Knock 'em out.”

Rhi hoped she wasn't going to mess this up. She tuned her guitar and closed her eyes, summoning Ruth to her side as she leaned into the mic.

“This is a song called “With You By Myself
”
. I wrote it for my sister. Ruth died two years ago now, but she's right here in the song. At least, she is to me. I hope she is to you too.”

Rhi glanced at the bar. Her father looked as if he had been turned to stone.

“Fly with me,” she began bravely. “To the blue air beyond…”

She'd spent a long time this week refining the rhyme and rhythm of the song, playing long and soft into the night, hoping her mother wouldn't hear the strumming guitar.
Are you listening, Ruth? Can you hear how I loved you?

“Stay with me, in a world full of light … keep the darkness at bay and take flight…”

It was working, Rhi realized exultantly. Ruth was there, beside her on the stage. A flash of colour at the corner of her eye, an echo of laughter. She lifted her voice as the song surged onwards.

“I thought I would fail, I thought I would fall – but flying alone isn't lonesome at all, because you aren't far, you're so very near, you're deep in my heart and you won't disappear, I'm flying with you but I'm all by myself … I'm flying with you but I'm all by myself.”

The silence that followed the last chord seemed endless. Then, in a blink, the whole room was cheering and stomping and calling Rhi's name. Feeling a little overwhelmed, she glanced at Brody for reassurance.

Brody's eyes seemed to be shining with their own blue fire. He grabbed her and held her close, rocking with her right there on the stage. “Amazing doesn't begin to describe that song,” he said into her ear as the cheering in the room grew louder. “Your sister would be so, so proud.”

“Thank you,” Rhi whispered.

As she pulled back from Brody's embrace, waving and smiling tearfully at the appreciative crowd, her eye snagged on a hat near the back of the room.

In a flash she knew it was the boy in the wheelchair from the pensioners' wedding. She half-lifted her hand to wave, before realizing how stupid she would look. She hadn't even met the guy. It looked like she had a mystery fan.

“Thank you… Thank you so much…”

Rhi wanted to find the boy and talk to him, ask him why he had left the wedding and why he was here. As the applause finally died away, she propped her guitar against her stool, jumped off the stage, and strode towards the back of the room. Why was it so important? She didn't know. Her feet seemed to be moving of their own accord.

“That was great. Really moving,” someone offered as she strode past. “I cried and I never cry.”

Over the tops of the crowd Rhi could see the doors of the café swinging gently on their hinges. Determined not to lose him this time, she hurried through the doors – and stopped, staring in frustration at the empty street.

There was no one in the alley leading to the Heartbeat Café's back doors. No one in the cobbled cut-through to the beach. The steep steps leading up to the High Street would be impossible for a wheelchair. Rhi wanted to scream. She'd lost him again.

My friends must think I'm mad
, she thought, heading back towards the café in defeat. It looked like her mystery fan would have to remain a mystery.

As she reached for the café's door handles, she glimpsed the heel of Brody's red Converse disappearing up the steps to the High Street. He hadn't said he was going anywhere after the gig, had he? She'd have remembered.

Rhi'd had enough secrets to last a lifetime. She had to know where Brody was going. So she turned away from the Heartbeat's wooden doors, and followed him at a safe distance.