“What about me? You don’t know anything about me and it’s none of your business, anyway,” I choked out, pressing the heel of my hand against my pounding head.
“Isabel, are you all right?” It was unthinkable, but she was curving her arm around my shoulders and trying to hug me.
“I’m fine,” I snarled, my teeth snapping together as I pushed her away. “You can fuck off and so can he!”
But I wasn’t fine. I was about as far from fine as it was humanly possible to be. I ran all the way up the 180-degree gradient of Montpelier Road before I could get home, lock the door behind me, and slide to the floor. It took a while to persuade my body that it didn’t need a triple bypass, and then I looked up and saw the note stuck to the banister.
Isabel: (he’d written in his perfect copperplate script)
Felix and I will be back at approximately nine-thirty.
There are some eggs and cheese in the fridge so you can
make an omelet for your evening meal.
I expect to find you in your room when we return, and then
I’d like to have a talk with you about your future plans.
DC
He was even more pompous via the medium of the written word. I had five hours to watch TV, use the phone to call every single one of my many friends, and gorge on any junk food I could find.
So I wasn’t amused to find that he’d locked the living room door so I couldn’t get near the telly. And as I wandered down the hall toward the kitchen, the future plans that he’d mentioned seemed to take a sinister turn that didn’t involve UCAS forms and what I wanted to do on the weekend.
The study door was unlocked because why would I want to go in there? It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for. They were in the second drawer that I looked in, a clutch of glossy brochures from places that all started with “Saint.”
Saint Mary’s. Saint Augustine’s. Saint Ignatius’s. Saint Mary’s again. We weren’t even Catholic. I flicked one open and began to read: . . . emphasis on academic excellence in an environment free from the distractions that can lead impressionable adolescents astray. We pride ourselves on learning through discipline and prayer and have many years of experience in dealing with students who have special emotional needs. That was from the prospectus for Saint Mary’s the second, but they all said pretty much the same thing.
He was going to send me away. For real. Away from Felix. Away from Brighton. Away from any chance of making things right again.
I ripped the first brochure, the second, and the third and the fourth, until there were little pieces of colored paper floating around my feet like confetti. Then I looked at all his books, standing to attention on the shelves, all lovingly alphabetized and stroked while he searched for the right reference.
“You love those damn books more than you love me,” she used to say pitifully when she was trying to coax him out of the study to, like, engage with another human being. And he’d smile really sweetly, in this way that he’s forgotten how, and say, “I don’t love anything more than you, but the books do come a close second.”
And now she was gone and it was just him and his books and anything that wasn’t right, that couldn’t be filed away or put on a shelf where it couldn’t get into any trouble, was just parceled up and sent somewhere else.
My hands were bleeding by the time I’d finished. I didn’t even know you could cut your hands from tearing up books. From ripping their spines apart and sending their covers hurtling into the far corners of the room. From slashing pages and stomping them underfoot. It looked like a hurricane had torn through the study, and it was only when I saw the havoc I’d wreaked that I realized that there was no coming back from this. Maybe that’s why I’d done it.
I didn’t bother packing a bag this time. All my clothes were dirty, anyway. I just went back into the desk for the fifty pounds he hid there for emergencies, which he thought I didn’t know about, and headed for the only place where there was a chance I’d get a welcome.
Let'sGetLost
Let's Get Lost
24
Dot made me beg for it. I stood, shivering on her doorstep, while she asked Nancy and Ella, standing behind her, what they thought she should do. She turned back to me with determination quivering from every pore. “I’ll let you in, but there’s a few conditions.”
I stood there for at least another ten minutes until the three of them were satisfied with my rendition: “I’m really sorry for being such a colossal bitch. I’m also very grateful that you’re prepared to give me a second chance, even though I have a lot of work to do to make things up to you.” Finally, my complete lack of sincerity passed muster and I was allowed to cross over the threshold. I was amazed that they hadn’t filmed my comeuppance on Nancy’s camera phone.
“Is your mum in?” I asked Dot, who didn’t seem as ecstatic about my capitulation as I thought she would be. She shook her head emphatically and then started evaluating my sorry state.
“God, you look like shit,” she declared. “Did they do that to your face?”
I made a noncommittal noise, but even that pulled at the tightening scab on my cheek. “Guess I’m not ready for my close-up, huh?”
“She can’t go out with us looking like that.” Nancy was completely unrepentant about trying to maim me. “We’re not going to get any action if she’s tagging along like our special-needs friend.”
I knew that Dot was mentally counting to ten because she bit her lip and shoved her hands behind her back. Seemed like the responsibilities of leadership were starting to get to her. Ha!
“Go upstairs and have a shower and do something, anything, with your hair.” It was so much easier when someone else was making the decisions for me. I obediently headed for the stairs. “You can borrow some of my clothes but not my Miss Sixty jeans and not my new black skirt or my green jumper with the beading and . . .”
I was wearing two T-shirts, a jumper, Dot’s third-best pair of jeans, and was drying my hair when she sidled into her room, glancing over her shoulder like she wanted to make sure we were alone.
“They’re driving me mad,” she growled, crouching down on the floor next to me so she could push a plate of pizza at me. “I never realized what a couple of nasty ho-bags Nancy and Ella really are.”
I wasn’t sure if she was playing me or not and if I agreed with her, Nancy and Ella would suddenly burst in and start giving me ten shades of hell. I settled for a nonspecific grunt.
“We can still be friends, you and me,” she continued, steadying herself by putting a hand on my knee. “Like we were before, away from those two. I wanted you to know that.” She was watching me carefully for signs of extreme gratitude that I was getting the chance to be her bestest friend. Never going to happen.
“Okay, cool,” I said, fingering the ends of my hair to see if they were dry. “Thanks for letting me borrow some clothes.” Then something else occurred to me. “My dad’s probably going to call in a couple of hours and demand that you send me home for some light torture.”
“You’ve had a pretty crappy couple of weeks, haven’t you?”
I had, I really had, and Dot was responsible for most of it. Gotta love the irony. “Well, I’ve had better, I’ve had worse. It all depends on your politics. You know me, I’m tougher than I look.”
Dot and I shared a deeply significant look as she processed the subtle warning. But it wasn’t true. I was starting to get the nagging suspicion that I wasn’t tougher than I looked. Inside, I was as fluffy and insubstantial as a marshmallow.
“It wasn’t personal, Is. Well, not much. I just saw an opportunity and I went with it.” My lack of official approval for her new dictatorship was really bothering Dot. “I’m not going to apologize, but I just wanted you to know.”
“Look, it’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” I waved the hand that was clenching the brush so tightly I was amazed it didn’t snap in half. “So what have you got planned for tonight?”
&
nbsp; When she gave me a rundown on the social itinerary, I almost considered going back home to face Dad’s spectacular fury. Instead, I pulled on my ripped coat and listened to Nancy and Ella witter on about the loser boys from the park, like they’d miraculously transformed into sex gods since I’d last seen them.
“I think Rob will give you a second chance if you tell him you’re sorry,” Ella explained doubtfully as we trudged down the road. “He thinks you’re tight.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t know you only put out for fugly students,” Nancy added tartly, and was shushed by Dot.
“That’s all in the past now, right, Is? Ancient history.”
“Yup,” I assured her. “It’s practically Paleozoic.”
All three of them turned to glare at me. “Don’t start using long words that nobody understands. Jesus!”
That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the evening. We met the boys in Churchill Square and trailed around after them as they eyed up candidates for happy slapping. It was like being in the middle of a documentary about delinquent youths on Channel Four.
“They’re not actually going to attack someone, are they?” I hissed at Dot as they swaggered toward some hapless little nerd who was standing outside Borders.
Dot gave me an incredulous stare. “They’re just acting hard to impress us. Lighten up, Is!”
After they’d jostled the nerdy kid for a few seconds, two security guards appeared and I found myself being pulled along by Rob, our sweaty hands clasped together as we stumbled down Silkwood Road.
“That was fun, huh?” he bellowed at me, when we came to a halt and I could catch my breath.
“More fun than I’ve ever had,” I agreed gravely as the others caught up with us. “You really know how to have a good time.”
My sarcasm didn’t register. I don’t think Rob even knew what sarcasm was, but he’d obviously decided that despite my tightness, I was worth another go. He slung his arm across my shoulder so one meaty paw was almost swiping at my breast and leered at me.
“Wanna go halves on some booze again, then?”
Rob behaved like a perfect gentleman. He held the door open for me and stumped up a bit extra for some Stella Artois in order to woo me. All I knew is that if I had some alcohol, then maybe I could forget about the utter crappiness of everything for five minutes. If I had a lot of alcohol, then maybe I could forget it for even longer.
The next thrilling installment of our evening was cozying up in one of the rain shelters on the seafront drinking lager. We sat on the boys’ laps and chucked the empty cans over the railings that led down to the beach. I was feeling buzzed enough that I didn’t want to poke Rob’s eyes out every time he squeezed my thigh. I could even ignore the encouraging looks the others kept giving me.
“This is boring!” Rob announced, aiming the last can in the general direction of the nearest trash bin. It missed by a mile. “We should do something really exciting.”
There were murmurings of agreement, but I just sat there with a smile so fake it made my face hurt. I didn’t want to be freezing my butt off on the seafront on a cold November night with people I didn’t like. I wanted to be warm and safe . . .
“Yeah! Fuck, yeah!”
“Good one, Roberto!”
I looked up in surprise as Rob punched the air and I nearly fell off his lap. “Huh? What did I miss?”
“It’s a surprise,” Nancy said, lifting up her mouth from where it had been sucking on Ratboy’s tongue. Her lipstick was smeared all over her chin, which I didn’t bother telling her about. “Come on, let’s go!”
Our big evening of fun involved far too much walking in subzero temperatures for my liking. I shivered slightly, which was Rob’s cue to wrap his arm around me while his other arm, well . . .
“Okay, this might be a really stupid question, but what are you doing?”
He smiled goofily. “You always get one stupid twat who doesn’t lock his door,” he informed me, trying the handle of the next car.
Aw, sweet. He wanted to show me his expertise at nicking car stereos, in some throwbacky way to killing a woolly mammoth and dragging it back to the cave to prove his hunter-gatherer skills.
“Riiiigghhht,” I said uncertainly, hoping that no stupid twats had left their doors unlocked. I might have been queen of the five-finger discount, but even I had my standards.
“Got one!” There was a shout from farther down the road and a big whoop! We were off and running again, the wind stinging the cut on my face and making my eyes water.
Rob wriggled into the driver’s seat and fumbled under the steering wheel, as we all peered into the Nissan Micra’s dark interior to see what he was doing.
“Well, this is fun,” I said brightly to Ella. “I knew I needed to get out more.”
“It is fun, isn’t it?” she agreed happily. “Pity Dot’s missing it.”
“She’s gone back to Gary’s,” Nancy said with a terse shrug of her shoulders. “Said she was cold. Lightweight.”
There was a spluttery engine noise before the car purred into life. “Get in, quick!”
“I thought he was just going to take the CD player,” I protested, but Rob was already yanking me onto his lap, ignoring my squeak as the steering wheel jabbed into my tummy.
Nancy, Ella, and Ratboy were climbing over the passenger seat into the back, then pushing the seat upright so Ella’s guy could make himself comfy.
“There isn’t room for me,” I said, trying to struggle free. “We can’t get the seat belt around both of us.”
“Just chill out.” Rob laughed. “I’ve done this a million times.”
“Yeah, Is, don’t be such a whiny little baby,” Nancy snapped, but it was okay for her, all snug and comfy in the back.
Rob kept hold of me with one hand and slammed the door shut with the other. “Right, let’s see how fast this thing can go.”
I could feel panic welling up in my chest, blocking my airways so I had to start panting hard. “I wanna get out. Let me out, now!”
“Shut the fuck up!” one of the boys said, and I was wedged against the door as Rob put his foot down on the accelerator and pulled away from the curb in a screech of tires that made me flinch.
“It’s all right. We’ll just go up to Rottingdean and see the lights,” Rob called over the roar of the engine, and he thumped my arm in what he probably thought was a comforting gesture. I wormed my hand down toward the floor so I could grip onto the edge of the seat.
“It’ll be okay,” Ella agreed. “Here, have some more to drink.”
I grabbed the can from her, closed my eyes, and downed it in three nervous gulps. It helped, and the buzzy feeling was back so that as Rob picked up speed I started to like the sensation of going too fast, of watching the road blur in front of us, and the way the streetlights seemed to melt. It was like flying.
“Cool, innit?”
I squinted at Rob. “It kind of is.”
“Want me to go faster?”
“Yeah, go on, then.”
We were high above the town, climbing up past the posh girls’ school and on toward Saltdean. I thought that the road would never end and the petrol tank would never empty and we’d stay in perpetual motion forever. Not getting anywhere, just going faster and faster and faster and the lights coming toward us were so bright, so pretty, so dazzling . . .
“Shit!”
Rob suddenly swerved to the left, throwing his whole body behind the wheel as we veered onto the wrong side of the road. I heard the frantic beeping of a horn, and we smashed through a fence. Then a sickening crunch as we slammed into something that hurled me forward so I smacked my head against the steering wheel, then snapped backward as Rob managed to stop the car.
I should have passed out. Drifted into this heavy, velvet blackness so it didn’t hurt. But my body never did anything I wanted it to, so I slumped against Rob and moaned because there were so many shooting pains stabbing into me I couldn’t begin to separate them.
; “Oh, my God, is everyone okay?” I was dimly aware of Ella crying. There was something wet on my forehead, dripping into my eyes, and I tried to lift my hand to brush it away.
“I’m stuck,” I said, but it didn’t come out right because I’d bitten my tongue and it was hard to maneuver the words out. “My hand’s stuck.”
My arm was trapped between the seat and the door, and when I tried to pull it free, I really wished I hadn’t because there was this tsunami of agony. I looked down at my arm. It was still attached to my shoulder, though I couldn’t be a hundred percent certain about that. I tentatively tried to flex my fingers and the agony upgraded to this piercing burn that started in my elbow and shot down to the tips of my fingers. But pain was good, right? Pain meant . . . it meant something. I knew it did from biology, but I couldn’t remember exactly what.