Lies Like Love (21 page)

‘Get in the car, Aud,’ Mum said, sat in the car, poised to go.

It was getting dark. It was cold. But it was time.

‘No. I’m not going with you back to the Grange. I can’t trust you, Mum. You’re a liar.’

Her head whipped round. ‘You what?’

‘I’m not going back there,’ I said.

‘Get in the car now. This is ridiculous. Where else do you think you’re going to go?’

‘Somewhere else. On my own.’ I took a step back. The first step away.

‘There is nowhere else. It’s the only option available. So, tough luck, lady. Get in and let’s get going. You’ve wasted enough of my time as it is.’

‘No.’

I turned and walked, taking the route she couldn’t follow by car, across the flower beds, through the pedestrian walkways. She yelled, her voice flying out, like a line thrown into the water, baited, hooked.

‘Audrey, don’t be stupid – come back.’

I put my head down and tucked in my arms, concentrating on putting my feet one in front of another, forging a straight line out of there. I knew I was strong enough. I could do this.

When Mum didn’t follow, I picked up speed, my heart
clattering in my chest as I turned a corner. And another. Found the road. Saw a sign. Picked up my feet again, counted the steps as I walked along the main road, cars speeding past, headlights on full beam.

‘
One, two, three, four
,’ I chanted, ‘
five, six, seven, eight. One two three four five six seven eight
.’ As long as I counted I would be free, as long as my feet moved me forward I would break away. The wind was cold, but it pushed me on. The evening was dark, but in the shadows I could hide. Mum would not catch me. Another car rushed past. Another. And then –

‘Audrey!’

Mum was there, slowing to drive beside me as I walked, the window down, hanging out and yelling.

‘Get in this car now,’ she called.

I pretended I couldn’t see her, couldn’t hear her. I shifted into another gear, higher, faster, and counted.
Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneight
. I had to get the energy from somewhere; I had to find the strength. I was a machine: hard, metal, strong. Arms like pistons, I pushed on.

‘Audrey, I mean it. You’re digging yourself a big hole here. You think this behaviour is normal? You need help – get in the car.’

My legs scissored and my breath came in sharp bursts, but it wasn’t enough. The traffic was backing up behind Mum: horns were blaring, cars dangerously overtaking, their drivers shouting. I needed another way to get away from her.

‘Get in the car,’ she repeated, coaxing now. ‘Come on, we’ll talk about this. We can sort it out together, like
always. Come on, love, you’ll catch your death. You need me to help you. You need me.’

I kept walking, turned off the High Street and on to the country lane that wove out of town and towards the villages. If I could keep going, if I didn’t give in, then things would change. Hurting Leo, lying about Leo; that was something I wouldn’t take. She couldn’t have her lies and she couldn’t have me, so it was time to make it happen. Time to show her I meant it. She didn’t get to destroy everything. She didn’t have that power.

‘Audrey.’ Mum leant on the horn. I put my hands over my ears and walked. Faster and faster.

A gate. A field, frozen mud. I didn’t pause, didn’t think, hauled myself over and began to run. If she chased me? Who would win? It had to be me. The cold bit and scored at my skin and I ran until my lungs burst, leaving her calls behind, stumbling to a walk – my legs not so strong, not yet, not pounding like they should – like they ought to. I was young, but I was old, and the thought stopped me. It wasn’t right. The horizon was full of nothing; there was no point searching there. A thin line of trees, barely visible in the darkness, stood sentinel over the scene.
Move
, I thought,
just move
, and I jogged forward. That was the way.
Keep going; don’t stop
.

The darkness swallowed me. I wondered if I was turning in circles. I wondered about the sinking sand. About mud and falling and drowning and dying and no one finding me ever. I stopped again and turned round. Looked back. Which way? Why weren’t there signs? Why wasn’t there a guide, someone to hold my hand and lead me on.
‘Dad, where are you?’ I whispered. ‘Dad, come and get me.
Find me, please
.’ But no one answered. No one came. The air was as dry as bone. I trudged on, counting my steps again, just to keep going.

I found the embankment by accident; followed the path, still looking over my shoulder, staggering and tripping over roots, guessing my way to the farm, wishing I could read the stars.

It stood there waiting, warm. Still too distant, but I saw lights burning in the windows, smoke curling from the chimney, and I moved forward, through the field, onwards, certain that once I arrived, then I’d be home.

But Mum’s car was in the drive. I hadn’t been fast enough; I could never outrun her.

What did I do now? Creep to the barn and hide there, like a rat skulking in the straw, or tell her straight that I’d finished with the Grange? The Thing wasn’t going to stop. It wanted to win. It was so big now, fully grown, and hungry. And Mum: Mum was a liar. She wouldn’t protect me.

The barn. Hide. Yes, keep safe.

Before I could move, the door swung open and a figure stood in the doorway: a silhouette, searching, staring out into the night. I stood back against the wall, out of view, holding my breath tight, my chest bursting. The figure moved. It was Leo. My heart jumped, hurt again. And then a smaller form joined him, took his hand, tilted his head, a small voice piercing the dark.

‘Is it Audrey? Can you see her?’

Peter, my brother. He needed me. He was waiting for me to come home to him. To look after him. There was
no choice now. I stepped forward as they turned away. I had to follow them inside.

When I pushed open the door they were gathered at the table drinking tea, chatting in low voices. I watched for a second. No one had heard me; perhaps I was shrinking, vanishing, too small to be seen. Then Leo turned.

‘Audrey!’ My name bounced around the room, echoing, strange and disembodied. They were laughing at me, staring, pointing. I put my hands up to my face, wanting to hide again. Wishing I’d stayed in the shadows.

‘Here she is,’ Mum said, and held out her arms. Her face split, divided. One mother, two. The Thing at her shoulder. Its ragged hair grey and long. Its eyes dark and grinning.
Ah, here you are
, it said,
at last
. I froze. No. Not here. Not at the farm. It couldn’t have found us here.

‘Aud, are you all right, love? Audrey? You must be freezing.’

And it hit me. The cold, the exhaustion. I felt sick. My legs gave way. Their faces dissolved. Someone’s arms caught me before I hit the stone floor, and a voice, close.

‘Audrey, you’re safe, you’re all right. It’s me, Leo.’

She was there and not there, shaking in his arms as if she’d seen something that had frightened her out of her wits. Her body was freezing, her shoes muddy and ruined, her tracksuit bottoms thick with mud and water.

‘Audrey? It’s OK; are you all right?’

He picked her up and carried her to the sofa, Sue brought a blanket. Lorraine bustled around.

‘I’d better call an ambulance,’ she said, her mobile already in her hand.

‘No, it’s all right; she just fainted.’ The last thing he wanted was Audrey gone again as soon as she’d arrived. If they gave it a moment, she’d open her eyes and tell them what was up.

‘Leo, leave this to me. I’m a nurse.’

‘Hang on,’ Sue said. ‘Just a moment – look, she’s coming round.’

Lorraine pushed him aside, crouched beside her daughter, her voice soft and crooning.

‘Audrey, my sweetheart, Audrey, love, Mum’s here, you’re all right now, love, all right now.’

She smoothed Audrey’s brow, held her hand, reached in her bag, pulled out a foil of pills, squeezed one on to her palm.

‘Take this, Aud, come on, your medication – you’re late
with it tonight. All this silliness. Goodness, what a state you’ve got yourself in. We’ll get the ambulance, get you back to the hospital; don’t worry.’

Leo watched as Lorraine slipped the tablet on to Audrey’s tongue. Watched Audrey roll it around her mouth. Wondered if she swallowed it. She sat up, coughed. Put her hands over her mouth, then coughed again.

‘Mum. I’m OK. I’m sorry, sorry.’ She let Lorraine straighten her clothes, comb out her hair, fuss over her, smoothing her cheeks, pulling at her lips as if to rearrange her features entirely. Lorraine looked up and smiled at them all.

‘That’s all right, love. Now, let’s get you back to A and E. Right?’

Audrey stared at her mum. The fear was back in her eyes. He was sure he saw her inch away, pull towards him.

‘Can I stay here?’ she said fast, glancing at Sue, then him. ‘I’m tired.’

His aunt’s eyebrows disappeared under her fringe. Leo stood up, put his hand on Sue’s shoulder.

‘It’s late. She can stay; she doesn’t need to go back to the hospital, does she?’ he repeated, insisting.

Audrey sat up. She took off her glasses and stared at her mother.

‘I’m going to stay here, Mum. All right?’

Lorraine said nothing.

‘It’s fine by me,’ Sue said. ‘You stay too, you and Peter. Audrey seems OK now. It must have been the shock, the stress. There’s plenty of food; we should all have
something to eat.’ She bustled over to the range, put a pan on the hob, filled another with water at the sink.

‘Oh, no, we couldn’t impose. We’ll go. But I don’t like to leave Audrey, not after she’s been so ill. She isn’t right. Running off like that. Thank God she came here as I suspected.’ Leo glanced down at Audrey’s wrists. Still bandaged. She saw him looking and blinked. He looked away. Shit, what did he say to her about that? He wondered if she’d got his flowers, if he’d made it clear that it didn’t matter. He was on her side, whatever. Lorraine was right; she seemed spaced out. And why had she come here and run away from her mother? He wanted answers but couldn’t ask.

Go, just go
, I thought.
Get out of here, Mum
. The longer she stood there, the more Sue offered tea and food and a soft warm bed, the more likely she’d hang about.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to stay here tonight, OK?’ I said.

It looked like she was going to refuse, but something changed her mind. Maybe it was them all watching – Sue and Leo. Maybe she got it: that I knew she was a liar and that if Sue and Leo knew what she’d said, then that would be it. Everything would come out.

‘All right. All right, have it your way. But if there’s a problem, call me. And make sure you take your medication, Audrey.’ Mum gathered up her things.

‘Come on, Pete.’ She looked directly at me when she spoke. ‘Peter, I said, get your things.’

My brother looked up; he looked at me, then at her. He’d been quiet, I realized, barely saying a thing.

‘Are you all right, mate?’ I whispered.

‘I want to stay with Aud.’ Peter’s hand tightened on mine. He’d been biting his nails. I caught Leo’s eye and was about to try and argue for Peter too when Mum came over, kissed my cheek, grabbed his arm.

‘No, come on now – let’s be off. I’m tired. Sue’s probably had enough of you.’

She straightened up and laughed but it wasn’t funny.

‘He can stay,’ Sue said, mild, smiling. ‘You all can.’

‘No, no. God, people will think you’ve started up some sort of home for waifs and strays, Sue.’ Mum’s laugh was more false than ever, her hands clenched and unclenched. ‘I’ll take him back with me, get him sorted for school in the morning. You can see your sister tomorrow, Peter. We’ll pick her up.’

And there was no more arguing. Peter trailed behind her, looking back over his shoulder, pleading. I screwed my eyes tight shut. Only heard the door close and Sue calling goodbye and Mum calling thanks.

Peter would be all right. He’d be OK. I’d find a way to make sure of it.

‘Thanks for having me,’ I said to Leo. He was sitting beside me, just waiting.

‘My pleasure.’ His grin was a treat. So normal. Leo moved closer. He took my hand; he whispered something in my ear. Something about him being pleased to see me. I couldn’t listen properly, still thinking of my brother. Where had I been? Leo murmured. He’d been waiting, he said, demanding my attention, dragging me into the present. I turned my head and his lips were on my cheek. Close to my mouth. He was warm, real. He was alive and so was I now. Free for the moment.

‘Hey, you two.’ Sue sounded surprised, and we jumped apart. ‘Give the girl a chance, Leo; she’s just arrived. Just out of hospital.’ He jumped up at her rebuke, his smile cheeky.

‘Sorry. Can I get you something, Aud? Drink, another
blanket? Foot massage. I dunno. You name it, wish, command, humble servant, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.’ He made me laugh. It was good.

‘No. No, just sit here,’ I told him, and he nodded like he understood that was all I needed.

The next thing I did was flush the pills down the toilet, every single last one. The silver foil crumpled and tore and with each rip I felt better.

‘Are you sure you should be doing that?’ Leo stood in the doorway of the bathroom watching. He didn’t try and stop me, but his voice had an edge, a little tension.

‘Certain.’ I washed my hands and turned back to Leo. Bright smile at the ready. But I’d seen myself in the mirror; I knew I looked like hell. The smile wasn’t going to fool anyone.

‘Right, where were we, what, ten days ago?’ I said, breaking the silence. He started walking back to the living room, jogging down the stairs.

‘I think we’d just had the best night of our lives? Something like that.’ Leo threw the words over his shoulder. I caught them with relief. He would play along.

‘Yeah, that was it. How could I forget?’

So why the hell would you try and kill yourself one night later? We sat beside one another on the sofa. Sue had disappeared, leaving us in peace, and the unspoken question hung heavy and dark between us. It laughed at me. I swallowed. Nothing would ever be the same.

‘I guess I should explain,’ I said.

‘OK. Yeah. If you want.’ He didn’t sound angry, but he
did sound worried. I swallowed and shifted away from him a little, preparing myself. This was going to be hard. I’d thought about what I would tell him and had it ready, but actually saying the words was a different matter. I’d never told anyone before.

‘Right, yeah, so, you know, I never really told you much before about what it’s like, my illness.’

Leo was waiting, sitting very still.

‘Well, right, one part of it. This is going to sound, I don’t know, weird, but what happens is, there’s this Thing.’

‘Thing?’

‘Yeah, that’s what I call it. I don’t know how else to describe it.’

‘You mean, like a voice or something?’

‘Maybe, a bit like that, yeah. A presence; it’s just there.’

Leo was trying to understand, listening hard.

‘Well, it was because of it,’ I was whispering and talking fast. ‘It wasn’t anything to do with you, you know, or us, or what happened.’ I felt hot, so stupid, and looked down.

‘So, hang on, this Thing, it made you try and kill yourself?’

I twisted a long strand of my hair in my fingers, knotting and tugging. ‘Don’t say it like that.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like I’m mad. Like you don’t believe me. I can’t help it. I know it’s not how other people are, Leo, but it’s how I am, and I don’t like it, but I have to live with it.’

‘So why did you chuck your pills away?’

‘Because I don’t need them.’ My voice was too high. It
was ridiculous. I couldn’t talk about this; it wasn’t something you could explain.

‘Aud.’ He took my hand, brought me to a halt. ‘You should really think about this. I’m worried what’ll happen if you don’t take your medication. You saw a psychiatrist, right? And he prescribed them?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, chucking them away, it’s risky.’

‘OK.’ I sighed and covered my face with my palms. ‘I’ll ring Caldwell. Get another prescription. All right?’

‘First thing?’

‘Yes, first thing.’

Leo sat back, but he wasn’t satisfied. I looked at him. The frown he wore was indelible.

‘And you’ll be seeing someone, right?’ Leo said, still watching me.

‘Yeah, as an outpatient. I have to go to see the psychiatrist. That’s the condition. Mum wanted me sectioned. Sent to some residential place.’

‘Yeah?’ Leo’s voice was cautious. He looked as if he thought maybe that would have been a good idea.

‘Yeah. Somehow the doctor didn’t agree. I guess the gods smiled on me for once. He was nice, Mr McGuiness. He was cool.’

‘OK.’ Leo leant over and pulled me close; he hugged me tight and I let out a huge sigh. I’d done it and he hadn’t run screaming from the building. ‘I’m just glad you’re all right, that you’re home. I’m just glad you didn’t die, Aud.’

‘Yes,’ I whispered into his shoulder and couldn’t stop the shudder.

‘But listen; you can talk to me, you know. If you need to. Seriously, about anything, because I’ve been sort of where you were. No voices or anything like that. But my head was a mess. I know it’s scary. Just, please, don’t do this again, Aud – don’t turn away, don’t –’

I stared out of the window for a second and then looked back at him, clenching my fists, digging my nails into my palms. I held up my wrists, showed him the bandages.

‘Listen, Leo. Seriously. You think I want this? You think I want to be the girl who does things like this? Well, I don’t. I don’t want to die. Not now, not for a long, long time.’ He stared at me and I swallowed, forcing my voice to soften. ‘Firstly, there’s you.’ I stood up and began to pace, counting the reasons on my fingers. ‘I need to know what happens with us, don’t I? I can’t miss that; literally, the loveliest thing in my life. I never thought I’d have a boyfriend, definitely not one like you.’

‘Aud,’ he said, trying to interrupt, but I shook my head.

‘No. Listen. I need to know if you and me –’ I glanced at Leo, he was watching, quiet now, leaning forward – ‘if we get to have a future. I want to be with you again. Like before. I want to be loved like other girls are loved and to love you back, like you deserve. I want you to teach me how to play the piano, “Chopsticks”, at least.’ He laughed, wiping his eyes. ‘Don’t, don’t cry. Please, not for me. I’m not going to die before I’ve had more of all this. Us, you.’

‘OK, stop it, then, just shhh.’

‘No. There’s stuff I’ve got to say. I have so much to do, lists and lists of little things. I’ve never been to Spain or
anywhere abroad, or passed an exam or worn a beautiful dress or dyed my hair black or climbed a mountain. I want to learn to swim. Learn to drive. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe go to university, if I can. At least get an education. I want to know the things you know, Leo. Stuff other people know. Then there’s Peter. You think I could leave him? He’s my life.’ I paused, trying to get a hold of myself. ‘I have to see Peter through, have to see what life brings him, be there for the ups and downs and just the day to day.’ Shit. I’d let my brother go. How could I say this when I’d let him go? I bit my lip and turned back to the window. ‘So, don’t worry. I’m not going. Not anywhere,’ I finished, in a whisper.

Leo nodded. I heard him walking towards me, didn’t turn, but he put his arms round me, his head on my shoulder and I knew he believed me.

Mum showed up early the next morning with Peter beside her in his uniform ready for school. The start of a new term. Yet again, I’d be absent. I grabbed Peter and hugged him tight, then pushed him away and examined his face. He looked OK. I wiped a bit of breakfast from round his mouth with my thumb and he twisted, half smiling, rubbing at his chin with his sleeve. I nodded. And he smiled wider. I was glad there was colour in his cheeks, maybe he’d just been pale from tiredness the day before, from the worry and things not being right. Later we’d play. Maybe Leo could take him out on the pony for a bit after school. Or at least we’d kick a ball around. All these promises were on my tongue, but Mum got in there first.

‘Come on, Aud. Your first appointment. Let’s get there on time, eh?’ Mum said, waving at Sue, bending to pat Mary. The dog growled, her hackles rising. Mary never growled and Mum’s laugh was high and false as she pulled Peter to the door and beckoned for me to follow. She was scared I’d told Sue and Leo, I reckoned, about her lies and her accusations. That was my ammunition for later.

I grabbed my coat and waved goodbye to Sue. There was no getting out of the appointment; I would prove to Mr McGuiness that I was fine, get discharged and forget this had ever happened at all.

Later on Mum drove back in the direction of the Grange. She seemed all right, not too wound up, so I must have done OK. It had been the usual stuff: eating, sleeping, what did I think, how was I feeling. I’d told them everything they wanted to hear and even told the doctor I needed a new prescription because I’d lost the other packet of pills

As she drove along the winding roads, wittering on about the soap she’d watched the night before and the doings of her favourite character, I interrupted, saying, all casual, ‘Drop me off at Leo’s, Mum. I’m going to stay there a bit longer. He says it’s fine for me to stay.’

‘What? No chance, Audrey. Are you trying to make a fool of me or what?’ She scraped at her bottom lip with her teeth.

‘No. I just don’t want to live at the Grange.’ With you. With It. I didn’t add.

‘You’re not going to win this one.’ A quick glance, sharp, assessing; she pinned me with her stare. I pushed it back at her.

‘I am. Because if you don’t do it, then I’m going to tell them what you said about Leo. I’m going to tell them you told the doctors he raped me.’

‘I never said that, Aud.’ She stared at me, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide and shocked.

‘You did. I heard you. I can’t trust you any more.’

‘When?’ Mum was shaking her head. I thought back, trying to remember. I was sure I was right.

‘When I was first admitted. You wanted them to examine me; you were going to get the police.’

‘Examine you? What are you talking about, Aud?’ She made a
pffft
noise, and put her foot on the accelerator. ‘You didn’t hear that, nothing like it. You must have hallucinated; you were in a bad way, you know. Out of it most of the time. That’s why I can’t believe they’ve let you out.’

‘Mum, stop it.’ I gripped the seat, clinging on to what I believed I knew.

‘No, Audrey, you stop it. I think we all know who the person with problems is here, don’t we? It’s not me; it’s you.’ Her finger stabbed in my direction and the car veered. ‘Who will they believe, eh? The girl who just slit her wrists, the girl who’s mentally ill, or her long-bloody-suffering mother?’

I sat in silence. I hadn’t imagined it, had I? Why would I make something like that up? I put my head back and shut my eyes, trying to fix the information. But fingers of another memory crawled up my spine. Another GP. Just after I started having trouble with seeing things, hearing things, being too scared to sleep. Mum talking. Saying
things that weren’t true about my dad, telling the doctor about stuff I didn’t understand.

‘Has anyone touched you?’ the doctor had asked then. ‘Has something happened that you weren’t comfortable with? With an adult?’

‘No.’ I remembered my voice. Really clear. This was wrong. ‘No. Never. No.’

Mum had started crying. I didn’t know what happened next and closed down the memory. Winding down the window, I leant out, gulping in fresh air. Maybe that was why Dad had left us. Perhaps she’d threatened him too. We drew up outside the farm; Mum pulled on the handbrake and turned off the engine. She leant over me and wound up my window and stayed close. The air was hot and smelled of cigarette smoke and her rich, heady perfume.

‘Get your things. We’re going home.’

‘I can tell them to ask Mr McGuiness.’

‘As if. They’ll think you’re raving. Now come on.’

It was quiet in Sue’s kitchen: Mum stood chatting with Sue while I went upstairs. The room I’d used was pretty and clean, with a faint smell of wood smoke from the open fire downstairs. On the dressing table was a white china vase painted with delicate blue flowers, filled with a spray of winter jasmine. The bedspread was white, its edges scalloped. I sat for a second, smoothed it flat and followed the delicate pattern with a finger. I thought. I thought about everything.