Lies Like Love (10 page)

Half-term. He’d looked forward to this, to meeting his mother and to catching up. So when he saw her he hugged her, way too tight, and she laughed, before sweeping him towards the taxis, striding on soft leather pumps that matched her handbag and her camel coat. They faced each other and he could see her making a real effort not to mention school. Leo had made a bet with himself, reckoned that the longest she’d last was fifteen minutes. But he’d overestimated her again. She managed a full ten. And then: the inquisition.

‘Well, how’s everything?’ she began. Full-beam headlight attention. Her eyes bright. Focused. He didn’t want to talk about that. He wanted to ask her other things, talk about what was real. He supposed he never would; it wasn’t the way they worked.

‘Good, thanks.’

‘Good? What does that mean, Leo?’

‘I think it means fine.’ She raised her eyebrows – they were impressive: perfect, almost architectural. Leo elaborated on his theme: ‘No problems, all well. No need to start getting stressed out. That’s what good means.’

‘It’s hardly a specific form of measurement though, is it, darling?’ She was keeping it light, pretending to banter.
Mum’s banter was pretty dangerous. Almost as dangerous as Mum’s lectures. She brought new meaning to the word polemic. Should have gone into politics.

‘Not really. But then again, what is?’

‘Well. A percentage, for example. You might like to tell me what percentage you achieved in your last Biology test. We haven’t had a report from the school, although I’ve emailed several times. I can’t say I’m surprised. The place is clearly designed to babysit inbred farm hands.’

‘Mother. Stop it.’

She pursed her lips and put her hand out and held Leo’s. She had really delicate hands, small and soft. Audrey’s felt a bit dry and sort of colder too, and her fingers were longer and very gentle.

‘Sorry, darling. You know it’s because I care. And because I miss you and want you to do well, that’s all. Despite everything, it’s still incredibly important that you leave school with a decent set of qualifications.’

‘So, leave me alone, then. OK? I thought we’d been through all this.’ He didn’t want to remember the hideousness of it. Not getting out of bed. His housemaster calling the doctor. The doctor calling an ambulance and then weeks of silence, medicine, his mother green and sick with guilt. It looked like she’d managed to forget though. Forget what had driven him to the edge. Leo tried to forget it too. Most kids did their GCSEs no bother, but he’d buckled.
Thirteen GCSEs
, Graham silently reminded him,
not to mention your Music A Level, when you were only fifteen. Hell of a lot of pressure, Leo
.

‘Yes, you’re right. We did. And I will try to be less
interested in my only son’s life and education. After all, a good mother lets her son go to the dogs, right?’

‘Right.’ He’d rather go to the dogs, his own way, than end up back on antidepressants, hers. He was prepared to spell that out in words of no more than one syllable if need be.

‘Did you think about what you might like to do this week? I’ve got meetings back to back Monday to Wednesday, but on Thursday we could take some time,’ she said.

This wasn’t a surprise. Leo had already looked up events in that week’s
Time Out
. He was going to catch a couple of films they hadn’t shown in town, browse the big bookshops, go to the theatre.
Lear
was playing and he wanted to see how they did Gloucester’s eyes. If he told his mother that, she’d be straight on the phone to Graham. Unhealthy obsession with violence.

His mum was on her BlackBerry. She hadn’t even considered that he might be gutted that her week was taken up, that he’d been granted a measly seventh of her time. Perhaps he should present her with that fraction, see if it made more sense.

‘Dad says hi, by the way. He misses you.’

‘Sure. I miss him too.’

‘Oh, Leo.’ She looked up, took his hand again. ‘Don’t sound so sad. I can’t stand it.’

‘I’m not sad, Mum.’ The taxi swung past Buckingham Palace. Leo yawned and picked up his phone. He checked his messages, email. Plugged in his headphones and searched for the right song.

‘You’re very distracted, darling.’ The implicit criticism was there.

He put his phone away. Didn’t sigh or shrug. Remembered his manners. His damn manners.

‘Sorry. It’s wonderful to see you.’

She reached out and smoothed his hair neat, like he was a little boy, then tsked and said he needed a good cut and that she’d book him in with her stylist. Leo was about to say that he liked his hair the way it was, but shut his mouth as his mother looked away. What was the point?

‘Here’s the hotel. Let’s get settled, have tea before my conference call at six. Over dinner I want to hear all your plans.’

‘Plans?’

‘Yes, university plans. You have made your application, haven’t you?’ He shrugged, but she was insistent. ‘There’s a lot to prepare for, interviews and so on. We’ll talk about it. Don’t worry. We’ll do lots of practice.’

He followed his mother inside. She walked fast, talked fast, thought fast and Leo was already looking forward to getting back to the farm.

Mum was working nights, then on Thursday she was back at six in the morning.

‘Audrey,’ she yelled, waking me. I’d only just got to sleep.

‘Hi.’ I stood on the landing, bleary-eyed.

‘I’m knackered,’ she said, heading straight up to bed, so I took her tea and biscuits before going back down to get Peter’s breakfast and to make plans.

‘Baking? A cake?’

Peter nodded. He stood on a chair and helped measure out the ingredients, laughing when he got flour in my hair.

‘You look like an old lady, Aud,’ he said, and I tried to smile.

The cake didn’t rise but it smelled good and we covered it with strawberry jam. We sat and ate it all and my belly ached.

Eventually, on Friday, Mum got up.

‘I need a bath, Audrey – run the bath.’

It took six lots of boiling water to turn the lukewarm bath hot. I ran back and forth with the spitting kettles.

‘That’s better,’ she said at last, taking off her nightie, lowering herself in. I looked away.

‘Pass the soap.’

I handed it to her and made to leave.

‘Hang on, love – you have to scrub my back, remember?’

Kneeling by the bath, I picked up the flannel, soaked it, scrubbed her skin.

‘That’s good, love. That feels better.’ I dropped the flannel, stood up again.

‘No, hang on, I need help with my hair.’

She lay down, immersing herself; I sat on the loo and waited. After a while Mum pointed at her belly; I hated looking.

‘See that, Aud? My scar.’ It was long and ridged. Red, still, after sixteen years, which seemed wrong to me.

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Funny to think you came out of there, isn’t it? They had to cut you out, otherwise I could have died. I wanted a nice natural birth, you know. But it was an emergency; you could have died too. Both of us. But the doctor, he was amazing. He saved our lives.’

‘Yeah? Good.’ I hated this conversation. It cropped up every couple of months. The whole giving-birth thing was basically revolting and I didn’t want to be reminded.

‘Thank God. I think about him a lot, that doctor,’ She looked at me from under her lids.

‘You thinking about that lad again, Aud?’

‘No.’

‘Come off it, I know you are.’ She took the flannel, started to wash her stomach, breasts, under her arms, then held it out to for me to take over. ‘I know you fancy him, Audrey.’

‘I don’t.’

‘It’s normal, at least, to have a crush. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it. But you know you can’t do anything, don’t you? You’d better not, anyway.’

I dropped the wet cloth and stood up.

‘I’m going to go and iron Peter’s school stuff now, Mum. OK?’ And I walked away before she could say anything else.

I was sick that night. Puked in the toilet while Mum held my hair back from my face and stroked my skin, wiping it with the flannel that was still damp from her bath and beginning to smell. I heaved again.

On Saturday evening, the night of Leo’s bonfire party, I sat staring at the telly with Peter, trying to keep still, calm, not let my legs judder and jump, not check the clock or stare at Mum with a hopeful smile. I kept my mouth shut and my fingers crossed and then –

‘Here,’ Mum said, around seven, ‘we’re going out.’

I jumped up; she handed me her old black fake fur and I pulled it on, and felt instantly different. Like a kid playing dress up. Like a girl who could be someone else. Because I couldn’t go on like this, sitting in the Grange, just waiting.

‘Really, can I wear it?’

‘Well, I don’t want it. So you might as well.’ She had a smart new black overcoat and warm boots.

‘You look nice, Mum,’ I said, catching her eye with a small smile, and she nodded as if she knew.

Mum didn’t catch me twirling though, admiring in the mirror. I couldn’t jinx this. I had plans. If I saw Leo
tonight, I would do something, say something. Change things. Even if he told me to get lost. It didn’t matter; at least I’d have tried. I’d tested out the words:
Leo, I like you, Leo, can we – Leo, will you – Leo Leo Leo
– and wondered how I’d fill in the gaps. Inside my heavy coat I was trembling already and I hugged myself still.

‘What’s the matter with you, Aud?’ Mum said. ‘You look hot and bothered. Have you got a temperature?’ I shrugged out from under her hand and cooled my cheeks with my palms. Our car smelled of spices, cinnamon and apples: Mum had spent the afternoon baking and was taking wine and a packet of sparklers too. I tried not to fidget and stared at the night ahead. Dusk had fallen in great pink and purple ribbons, the sky undulating, sweet and seductive. Now it was pitch black. I bit my bottom lip, distracting myself from the flurry in my belly, like a shoal of tiny fish were swimming, flitting and fluttering, tumbling inside.

‘Nice of Sue to invite us,’ said Mum as she parked up outside the farm gates. ‘You do me proud and mind your manners. Careful round the fire, Peter, and wear your gloves.’ She wrestled with the top button of his coat, gave up. ‘Let’s find Sue.’

The farm was lit up like fairy land. Twinkling lights glittered around the door of the barn, around the house. Lanterns swung from trees, huge glowing candles dripped in glass bowls, lining the driveway. And somewhere in all this was Leo. This was another world. Anything could happen here.

‘All right, Aud?’ Mum looked at me. ‘You’re quiet. What’s up? You feel all right?’

‘I’m fine. This is good. Thanks for bringing us.’ I smiled at her but she didn’t see; she was peering into the darkness.

‘Recognize anyone?’

‘No. Not really.’ There were lots of faces, mostly adults, some littler kids writing their names in the sky. No Lizzy. I let out my breath. Peter stuck close to my side, his hand in mine. I kept scanning for Leo.

‘Lorraine!’ Sue appeared out of the darkness, kissed Mum on both cheeks. ‘I’m so glad you came, and Peter – wonderful. Come on – let me introduce you to some of the other guests.’

Mum handed over her bag of goodies.

‘Oh, that’s lovely – really you shouldn’t have,’ Sue exclaimed and swept her away. I jammed my hand in my pocket, stared down to the lower field, where the bonfire already crackled.

‘Right,’ I said to Peter. ‘Come on.’

We wandered down towards the light. Closer, I saw Leo in the field wearing his duffle coat and wellies, navy-blue bobble hat on his head. He was messing with the fireworks, setting up a rocket. It burst into the sky, one long stream of fire, then exploded, making Peter jump.

‘Leo,’ I shouted, waving, ‘Leo, hi.’

He jogged over.

‘Hey.’ Just that word lifted me, I felt taller.

‘Hi. We came.’ Stating the obvious, like an idiot. But he didn’t say anything, just kept grinning, smiling too much
for it to be normal. It made me nervous, like there was some joke here I didn’t know about. Perhaps it was all a trick. Maybe Lizzy and her pals would jump out from behind the bonfire, Halloween masks on, bundle us on to the pyre.

‘Brilliant. Here, let me get you something to drink, something to eat.’

‘OK.’

We followed him back up to the house, then stood together outside, watching everything from a distance. There were loads of people I didn’t recognize, milling everywhere, more arriving all the time, and I scanned the crowds, searching for school kids I’d need to avoid.

‘Who’s here?’

‘The world and his wife.’

‘Did you invite anyone else from school?’

‘No. I don’t think so. Sue might have done; there’s bound to be the odd one lurking around. But, you know, we’re not so friendly with the school lot.’ He pulled his hat lower, peering over his shoulder, making me smile.

‘Hah. Yeah. Well, let me know if you spot one. We can do a runner.’

‘I like the sound of that. Where’d you want to go?’

I pointed at the sky.

‘Hitch a ride on one of your rockets. Up there looks good. Peter made this incredible spaceship,’ I said, and my brother looked hopeful. ‘We should have brought that.’

‘Fantastic – Mars, then?’ I nodded. ‘Great,’ he said, ‘it’s a plan.’

We stood quiet for a bit. I shifted, tried to look as if this
was easy, wondered what other stupid stuff there was to say. Anything was better than silence, standing there like two idiots, our tongues tied in knots. I felt hot and glad of the darkness so he wouldn’t see. Leo spoke first.

‘I like this one. What about you? Favourite firework? And you only get to choose one,’ he said.

‘Same. The pretty ones. Like flowers on fire.’

We were standing close. Peter wrote his name in the air with a sparkler. The smell of gunpowder, hot and smoky and sort of magic, misted the air, and when I looked at Leo he wasn’t staring at the sky any more; he was looking at me. And for a second my stomach dropped. I didn’t blink, just looked back at him, eyes wide, and the world was really clear for the first time in forever, lit up by the blazing bonfire in the distance. I hadn’t imagined it: he liked me.

We finished our food and walked back down to the field. When he put his hand out and steadied me I tried not to jump like a frightened rabbit.
You’re such a dickhead
, I told myself.
Aud, get your shit together
. And I swear I was trying, but it was hard. Because I knew this was my chance, maybe the only one.

He was standing close. His arm – I felt it, through all the layers of clothes, as if our skin were touching. My cheeks prickled. Bits of my body I hadn’t wanted to know existed were sharp and alive. On the back of my neck, on my cheeks, on my scalp, inside my jumper, up and down my legs. Like if you licked me, your tongue would fizz. He didn’t lick, but he did say my name and that meant he had more to say, that we hadn’t run out of stupid things to talk
about. The words were invisible wires, running between us, spinning a web that linked us. It turned us from strangers into friends. From friends into something else.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘we can’t talk here.’ He took my hand and led me away from the fire.

‘What d’you want to talk about?’ I said. It was dark and still in the barn, smelt of fresh hay and the pony. Leo didn’t have a chance to answer: I talked more.

‘I bet Mum’s told you, hasn’t she?’ Leo didn’t bother pretending he didn’t know what I meant. ‘So what do you think? Now you know that I’m
mental
, like Lizzy says.’ I made little quotation marks with my fingers around the word. It was better to face it.

‘I don’t care.’ He was smiling.

‘You mean that?’

‘I do.’

‘I get depressed,’ I told him. ‘Like, properly. And I cut myself sometimes.’ I shrugged. ‘Does that make me mad?’

‘I don’t think I’m the one to say, Aud,’ Leo said quietly. ‘I think you’re lovely. That’s all. And everyone has their pain. You don’t need to be ashamed of it. And if you’re ill you can get better. That’s the thing.’

I thought about that and closed my eyes. Get better. Yes. When I looked at Leo again his eyes were on my face. It was a serious type of looking, the type that made my insides churn. I blinked, took off my glasses, rubbed my eyes, trying not to believe too hard. But Leo was fabulous. That was the only word. He reached out and took my hand.

‘Wait,’ he said, touching my face. He leant a bit closer.

‘Audrey, what d’you –’

I didn’t let him finish. Enough talk. Nothing to lose, I kissed him, suddenly brave and hopeful and stupid and sure all at once. It started off quick; then, when he didn’t pull back, when it looked like he wanted to too, it was proper: a real grown-up kiss that I didn’t know I knew how to do. My head exploded. My skin burned. When he held me close to him I kissed harder. Fast, hurry, steal this, all of it; there might not be another chance, not ever, and I put my arms round his neck and my heart into his hands.

And then there was my name being shouted, echoing all over the night.

‘Audrey, Audrey – where are you?’ Mum. ‘Auuu-drey,’ she hollered.