Mike smiled at his own thoughts. Fun! At school! There had to be something wrong when you longed to go to school and actually thought it was fun! Still, although it was early days yet, this class didn’t seem too bad. And Mr Butterworth had been at pains to make him feel at ease as they’d walked along the corridor on their way to the classroom. Maybe things would be all right. Everyone seemed friendly enough – apart from the girl with the probing eyes.
‘Kane, who’s the girl sitting behind us?’ Mike whispered when Mr Butterworth wasn’t looking.
Immediately, Kane turned to look. ‘Who? Gemma?’
‘No! Don’t look,’ Mike urged, embarrassed. ‘You don’t have to make it so obvious that we’re talking about her.’
Grinning sheepishly, Kane turned to face the front of the classroom.
‘Is that her name? Gemma?’ Mike asked.
‘Yes. Gemma Elliott,’ Kane whispered. ‘I’d stay away from her though, if I were you.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, she’s really weird. She doesn’t speak much and she stays away from everyone, so everyone stays away from her.’
‘Kane, thank you but I’m sure it can wait until break-16 time,’ Mr Butterworth drawled from the front of the class.
‘Sorry, sir,’ Kane muttered.
When Mr Butterworth turned back to the board, Mike said softly, ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble.’
Kane shrugged and smiled. And Mike knew he had a friend.
5
Gemma
Talking
Gemma glared at Mike and Kane. Their backs were so close she could just reach out and touch them – if she wanted to, which she didn’t. Had they been talking about her? What had they said? And that look Kane had given her – like she was there but she wasn’t. Everyone looked at her like that. It didn’t matter where she was or where she went – home, school or on the street – no one ever saw her. It was the same everywhere. It was as if she was dead. No . . . It was as if she’d never been born. She didn’t mean anything to anyone. She didn’t make a difference in any way.
But this new boy . . . He’d looked at her. What was his name again? Michael Woods . . . There was nothing particularly special about his name. Michael Woods. Mike Woods. Mikey Woods. Spiky Mikey Woods! Gemma grinned at his back. Yeah! That was it. From now on, she’d call him Spiky Mikey!
Without warning, an image flashed in Gemma’s head like the blinding flash of a camera. She saw a woman, a mum, being pulled away from her son by two policemen. The mum was crying, her face contorted as she screamed her son’s name in anguish at being dragged away from him. Mikey . . . The woman had one arm outstretched, her fingers almost touching those of her son. And he was being held back by two policewomen. He was crying too, calling out, reaching out.
The image vanished just as suddenly as it came, leaving Gemma blinking like a stunned owl. Mikey . . . Michael Woods. He was in one of her scrapbooks. Or rather, not just him, but his mum. And if Gemma remembered rightly, his mum was arrested after that picture was taken. But why? Gemma chewed on her bottom lip with frustration as the reason slipped further and further away. It was no use. The image had gone.
Gemma stared at Mike’s back in shocked amazement. This boy had been in the newspapers. His mum had been arrested. And if it took her the rest of the week or even the rest of the year, Gemma was going to find out why.
6
Mike
Questions
‘OK, how about this one?’ Robbie ventured. ‘What does a teddy bear grow if he stays awake long enough?’
‘I don’t know.’ Mike smiled. ‘What does a teddy bear grow if he stays awake long enough?’
‘Tired!’
‘Not half as tired as that joke,’ Kane groaned.
The other boys around the table laughed. They were eating lunch and already Mike felt settled, like he belonged. The others had made him feel more than welcome.
‘Right then. This one will make you laugh. What do you call a bald teddy bear?’
‘Oh, come on, Robbie! Give it a rest,’ Kane begged.
‘Go on. What d’you call a bald teddy bear?’
‘I give in,’ Kane said, his patience wearing thin.
‘Fred Bear! Geddit! Fred Bear . . . threadbare . . .’
Kane picked up a limp lettuce leaf from his plate and threw it at Robbie.
‘Er . . . Kane Kingston. I beg your pardon! That’s quite enough of that if you don’t mind,’ Mr Butterworth called from across the hall.
‘Yes, sir,’ Kane called back. He turned back to Robbie. ‘If I hear one more teddy bear joke I’m going to bring in my little brother’s teddy tomorrow and beat you around the head with it!’
‘Charming.’ Robbie grinned.
Mike smiled and looked around. A girl in the lunch queue across the canteen was watching him. He looked at her and she smiled. He smiled back, then looked away, his face burning. Whoever the girl was, she had to be one of the prettiest Mike had ever seen. She was a black girl with jet hair immaculately plaited back off her head, and the biggest, darkest, most sparkling brown eyes he’d ever seen.
‘Who’s that girl over there?’ Mike asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant, offhand manner.
‘Which girl?’ Kane asked.
‘The one at the front of the queue with the plaits and wearing the blue dress,’ said Mike.
Kane turned to have a look, then turned back to Mike with a face-splitting smile. ‘That’s Robyn Spiner. Why d’you ask?’
‘I thought I saw her in our class earlier.’ Mike shrugged.
‘You did. She sits next to Gennifer – with a “G” ,’ said Kane.
‘Oh.’ Mike pronged a chip and popped it into his mouth. When he looked up all the boys at the table were grinning at him.
‘What’s so funny?’ he asked, embarrassed.
‘He’s in love!’ Robbie laughed. ‘That didn’t take long!’
‘Don’t talk wet!’ Mike muttered. ‘I only wondered, that’s all.’
‘Hello.’
Someone was standing next to him, talking to him. Surprised, Mike looked up from his lunch plate, then stared. It was Gemma. Mike was only too aware that all around his table it had suddenly gone very quiet.
Mike nodded at Gemma, unsure of what to do or say. Why was she singling him out to say hello to in front of everyone? He glanced quickly around the table. He wasn’t the only one having that thought.
‘Welcome to our school,’ Gemma continued.
‘Thanks,’ Mike mumbled, wishing that she’d go away.
‘Have you just moved here then?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Where from?’
‘What business is it of yours, Gemma?’ Robbie frowned.
‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ Gemma said evenly. She turned back to Mike. ‘So where have you just moved here from?’
‘Darlington.’
‘That’s somewhere near Newcastle, isn’t it?’ Gemma asked.
‘Not too far. It’s closer to Stockton and Middlesbrough though.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ said Gemma.
Mike’s heart was pounding. Beads of sweat prickled through the skin on his forehead. No one spoke. The quieter it got around the table, the louder his blood roared in his ears. Why was she asking all these questions. Did she know?
‘You don’t have much of an accent,’ Gemma said thoughtfully.
Mike shrugged. What was he meant to say to that?
‘So d’you live with your mum down here then?’ asked Gemma.
Around the table, Mike’s new friends turned to each other and frowned, wondering what was going on.
‘No. I live with my grandparents. I can bring in my full CV and life history tomorrow if you’d like.’
Sniggers erupted at his obvious put-down.
‘Just trying to be friendly.’ Gemma shrugged. Without another word, she turned and walked away.
‘I think you’ve got an admirer.’ Kane raised his
eyebrows.
‘Gemma!’ Robbie snorted. ‘You’ve got to be joking. She’s like the bride of Frankenstein!’
Everyone at the table started laughing. Everyone except Mike. He watched Gemma’s body stiffen as she walked. Looking round the table Mike wanted to say, ‘Shush! She’ll hear you,’ but how could he? Besides, it was too late. She’d already heard them.
‘She can’t help it if she’s a bit . . . a bit . . .’
‘Mousey. Boring. Bizarre. Strange.’ Robbie supplied a number of endings to Kane’s sentence.
‘What’s wrong with her exactly?’ Mike asked carefully.
‘She goes around in a daze.’
‘In a world of her own.’
‘And she’s always cutting up newspapers.’
‘Too weird.’
‘You said it!’
Comments flew thick and fast around the table.
Mike turned to watch Gemma walk out of the school canteen. He couldn’t be sure, but somehow he sensed that she knew she was being talked about. He wondered just what was going on in her head. Something was on her mind, that was for sure. Try as he might, Mike couldn’t shake off the feeling of dread falling over him like a shroud. Something told him he hadn’t seen the last of Gemma Elliott.
7
Gemma
Searching
Every single one of Gemma’s scrapbooks were scattered across the carpet like so many daisies on a lawn. Gemma flicked through first one then another and another, her impatience growing. She couldn’t find what she was looking for, but it had to be in one of them.
‘Gemma, this is the last time I’m going to call you. Come for your dinner!’ Dad yelled from the hall.
‘I don’t want any.’ Gemma didn’t even bother to look up. She wasn’t hungry. She had more important things on her mind. Like Spiky Mikey!
‘Suit yourself!’ Dad called back. ‘Tarwin, come for your dinner.’
‘I don’t want any either!’ Gemma heard her brother call from his room.
‘You’ll come downstairs and eat it – now!’ Dad shouted.
Tarwin’s bedroom door opened.
Gemma sighed. ‘Here we go!’ she muttered to herself.
She wasn’t wrong either.
‘How come I have to eat my dinner, but princess madam in her room doesn’t?’ Tarwin stormed.
‘Because I said so. You need to eat,’ Dad told him firmly.
Tarwin needed to eat. She didn’t. Gemma paused, waiting for the ache in her chest and throat to ease. What was it about Tarwin that had Dad constantly on his case? What was it about her that had Dad forever dismissing her? Gemma wished she knew, then maybe she could do something about it. She couldn’t understand it and goodness only knew she’d spent long enough trying. Why, she even looked like Dad. Tarwin didn’t. Tarwin looked like Mum – at least, that’s what he’d told her a while ago.
Gemma wished she could remember something, anything about her own mum but she couldn’t. And because she couldn’t, it hurt to try, because she knew she’d fail yet again. She swallowed. Her throat was still hurting. Her saliva felt like shards of glass. She swallowed again. That was better. It didn’t hurt so much now.
Tarwin and Dad were still arguing. Gemma let their voices fade away, her mind now fully focused on Michael Woods. She had his picture in one of her scrapbooks, she just knew it. And in that picture he was crying. Not like earlier when he and his friends had been laughing at her.
It was no good. She’d never find anything this way. She had to do it carefully and methodically or she’d never find the newspaper article. She picked up a scrapbook she’d discarded over an hour ago and opened it to the first page. It was going to take hours to go through all her books, but Gemma was determined. She’d look at every photo and read every headline if she had to.
‘I don’t know why I bother cooking, I really don’t. Right then. As neither of you want your dinner, I’m going to put it in the bin!’ Dad called out.
What a big loss that will be! Gemma thought with disdain. What culinary delight was she missing this evening? One of Dad’s bean-pot casseroles or another burnt meat offering? She’d pop down once Dad had gone to bed and make herself a cheese or banana sandwich and a glass of orange juice and lemonade. But before then she had some serious work to do.
Gemma turned to the next page.
8
Mike
Your First Day
‘How was your first day at school?’
Mike looked at Gramps and Nan, seated at either end of the dinner table. Why couldn’t they all sit on the sofa and eat their dinner? Why the formality? Did they eat like this every evening?
‘Aren’t you going to answer your nan then?’ Gramps prompted.
‘Sorry, Nan,’ Mike replied at once. ‘It was OK. I’ve made some new friends already.’
‘Good! Good!’
Mike couldn’t fail to see the relieved look which passed between his grandparents.
‘I’m not ashamed of anything, even if you are.’ Mike’s voice was bitter. He hadn’t meant to sound so defensive but he knew what was on their minds. They were worried someone might discover who he was.
‘We never said you had anything to be ashamed of,’ Nan denied.
‘But that’s what you were thinking,’ Mike persisted. ‘What’s the matter? Are you worried about what the neighbours would say if they knew about your daughter-in-law and your grandson?’
‘Mike, don’t take that tone with your Nan.’ Gramps frowned.
‘Michael dear, I’m not thinking about your grandad and me. We’re old enough not to care what anyone thinks. It’s you I’m worried about,’ Nan said gently. ‘You try to put on this hard front, like you don’t care what anyone thinks, but I know you do.’
‘No, I don’t.’
If Nan had argued or told him not to be so stupid then Mike would’ve been OK. But she didn’t. Instead she tilted her head to one side and smiled. Just smiled. And that smile put sand in Mike’s throat and sent tears from nowhere trickling down his cheeks. Nan sprang up at once. In seconds she had her arm around Mike’s shoulders.
‘It’s all right, love. It’s all right,’ she soothed. ‘You’ve been through a hell of a lot. Too much really for one boy to stand. I just wish we hadn’t had to wait for the court case to hear what was going on.’
‘What d’you mean?’ Mike sniffed.
He saw Nan look over his head at Gramps, her lips now clamped shut. Gramps shook his head.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Nan smiled at last. ‘What’s important is that you’re here with us now and we’re going to take care of you.’
Mike wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. Taking her cue, Nan went back to her chair.
‘I hope you like the dinner we made for you. It’s lambsteak pie and mashed potatoes and peas and corn, with fruit jelly or strawberry cheesecake and vanilla ice-cream for pudding. How does that sound?’
‘Not bad,’ Mike admitted.
Nan started laughing, as did Gramps. And to his surprise, Mike found himself joining in.
They ate in silence for a while, but it wasn’t the uneasy silence Mike had been dreading. He looked at Gramps and Nan, smiling at each other between mouthfuls. They were obviously very close, not like his mum and dad over the last few years. And yet Mike could remember a time when his mum and dad had been exactly like this. A time of secret smiles and joking whispers and a lot of laughter between his parents. A time when things were so good, Mike had thought his family couldn’t be any happier. But good times never lasted for ever. Mike knew that better than most. Looking at his grandparents, there were so many questions he longed to ask them. And he knew which one was top of his list.
‘Why did you never speak to me all the time you were in court?’ Mike was halfway through the question before he realised he was speaking out loud, but he didn’t stop.
Gramps carefully put down his fork and knife and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. Delaying tactics.
‘We wanted to . . .’ Nan began.
‘But we were . . . asked not to try and talk to you or communicate in any way,’ said Gramps.
‘Who asked you?’ Mike said, taken aback.
‘Your mum’s solicitor,’ Gramps replied.
Nan rushed on. ‘I think your mum felt that with everything else that was going on, it wouldn’t be fair to you if we . . . intruded.’
‘Intruded?’ Mike stared at them, unable to believe what he was hearing. He’d received a couple of smiles from them when they’d all started going to court, but the smiles had soon stopped once the trial got underway. Mike had always thought it was because of all the evidence that came to light. Evidence it was necessary to reveal to try and reduce the charge against Mum. He’d always hated his grandparents for making it so obvious that they were on his dad’s side, but now it seemed that perhaps there’d been more to it than that.
‘Well, maybe “intrude” is too strong a word.’ Gramps looked at Nan. ‘But I believe your mum felt it wouldn’t be fair to you or us if you were somehow caught between your mum on one side and us on the other.’
‘But you’re my grandparents.’
Mike would’ve had to be on another planet to miss the look which passed between Nan and Gramps. They agreed with him. His last argument had obviously been theirs.
‘I think in your mum’s mind, we were your dad’s parents first, the outraged general public second, and being your grandparents came a long way down on the list.’ Nan shrugged.
‘I see.’ Mike’s frown lessened only slightly.
That sounded just like his mum trying to protect him again. Protect him from his dad, his grandparents, the media, the whole wide world. It was a shame that the one person she could never protect him from was himself.