Lies Like Love (5 page)

The fact that he’d asked her to come inside, drink tea, eat cake, didn’t actually mean he liked her any more than he liked anyone else. Leo walked back from seeing them home to the Grange, ready for Sue’s teasing; he knew exactly what she was going to say. That he’d never brought a girl home before, that he’d fussed over her like she was a delicate flower. Leo stopped, turned, looked behind him. That place. The smell of it came to him again: damp, cold. Like something had recently died there. They must have got the rent cheap, that’d be what it was.

He would walk home with her. That would be fine. If he had to have a friend, well, why not her? And the fact that he liked watching her face and her eyes shift and change. He couldn’t help that, could he?

His mum called when he got in and Sue passed the phone, turning back to her crossword.

‘Hey, Mum, how’s it going?’ Leo rested his legs on the table and Sue batted them with her paper.

‘Leo. We’re well. And you?’

‘Fine, all good here.’ He winked at Sue and she sighed: she’d berate him later, looking over the top of her half-moon specs, for being offhand. Then instantly forget it.

‘Excellent. I was thinking about you today – we went to
a wonderful concert and it made me miss you. Miss your playing.’

‘Oh.’ And then she was off on one about the piano concerto, one he’d played when he was thirteen and what a talent he had and how sad she was that it was going unused. All the money that had been spent on lessons, the hours of practice, blah blah blah. Leo could see it now. In his dinner jacket, bum fluff on his upper lip, his Adam’s apple bobbing, stiff as a board, taking his applause; Mum in her black evening dress, elegant in the front row. Thank God he was out of it. Maybe he could interrupt, tell her about Audrey. See what she thought. But he stopped himself. He knew what she’d say. No. She could dismiss another human being in just one damning syllable, easy as that. Not our sort of people.

‘So, I’ll be back at half-term. And you’ll come up to London. All right, darling?’

‘Yeah, looking forward to it, Mum.’

‘Yes, not
yeah
.’ She spoke with a cut-glass accent. Used to swipe him one when he copied the children in the park near their London flat.

Leo liked voices, sounds, the weirder the better and Audrey’s voice was rustling leaves. It scratched at something in him, made him feel like sitting down to listen, although she’d said almost nothing this afternoon, her eyes full stops.

‘Yes, Mother,’ Leo countered with a dramatic sigh.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Lots of love then, darling.’

‘Love you too, Mum.’ Why would you say that, aged seventeen? Leo did though, always.

‘You too, darling. Now go and do something extremely useful. Right?’

‘Sure.’ Whatever, he thought when he put the phone down. His mum clearly hadn’t been listening when Graham said no pressure.

Sue didn’t have a piano and she didn’t give a damn about his exams either; she seemed to forget he had his mocks coming up in January. The word homework didn’t even belong in her vocabulary. No doubt his mother would make up for that when he saw her next month. He’d have to take ear plugs.

Maybe tomorrow he’d tell Audrey about the fair and see if she was up for it. And if not that, then something else. Graham was right – he did need friends.

The next day after school I didn’t wait for Leo but pulled Peter off to the bus. The evening before had been too much. We couldn’t expect to go round there all the time, making a nuisance of ourselves. But when we got back to the Grange the flat was dark and I heard a hiss, something scurrying into the kitchen. I slammed the front door shut and leant against it, not ready to go inside.

‘Hide-and-seek?’ I said. Peter chucked down his bag and was off – running down two flights of stairs, dashing along the corridors.

‘Stop,’ I shouted. ‘Not down there.’ And I pulled my brother back and up to the top of the house. The fire escape – I’d seen it from the outside and now we’d found it.
Good job
, I thought.

We were on top of the world. From here Peter’s kestrel might really be close enough to touch if it came swinging by.

‘Awesome,’ Peter agreed, reaching up into the late evening sky that seemed so near we could climb the clouds, the long white bands unfurling like sails. Suddenly the house was a pirate ship and I was the captain, Peter the first mate.

‘Ahoy there,’ I called, taking up position at the wheel. He climbed the rigging, jogging up and down the first
flight of steps, making them rattle and clatter like snapping castanets – and we were in Spain, I told him, drawing into port, dropping off our cargo of ivory, apes and peacocks, sandalwood and cedarwood and sweet white wine. Peter paused, looked up at me, bored of me reciting poems at him. Wanting some facts.

‘What’s it really like in Spain?’

‘Hot,’ I said, looking into the distance. The whole sea was in the sky, rose-pink clouds morphing into a cutlass, a flag, intrepid divers with spears chasing fish and whales, mermaids combing their long flowing hair, flicking their tails.

‘Can we go there for a holiday?’ Peter asked. ‘Luke from my last class went to Spain every year.’

‘We’re right there now, Pete,’ I told him. ‘Look.’

We stared together, sitting on the top step.

‘See, we’re in the market – look there, the piles of slimy octopus, shrimp, fat red tomatoes.’

‘Yuck.’

‘No, it’s good, different – breathe in – the air’s full of spice, hot and delicious. You smell it? Your skin’s all warm, golden with the sun; you smell yummy too, of sun-tan lotion, the seaside. Fresh air.’

He pulled a face, so then I told him about the beaches: golden sand, clear blue sea, waves to ride. All of us – even me, not afraid – splashing, laughing, getting hot and sipping ice-cold drinks, licking ice cream.

‘Let’s ask Mum if we can go,’ he said, his face full of the thought.

‘It would be nice if we could. Tell you what, when I’ve
left school and got a job – next year maybe, or the year after – I’ll save up and take you. OK?’

‘OK.’ He nodded, edged closer, thumb back in his mouth. He was really too old for that now. I put my arm round him.

‘We should go in, it’s getting chilly.’

Before I pulled him inside I took one last look at the horizon, the long blue sunset, spreading its arms round the edges of the planet. Then something caught my eye, something real: a flash of white dipping in and out of the trees, getting closer. Peter was pulling at me.

‘Hang on.’

We watched together as the figure approached. Tall. Fast. Still too far away to see me if I waved, which I wouldn’t. What made me blush, I don’t know; perhaps the thought of calling out. Saying his name like I had a right to.

‘Is it Leo?’ Peter leant on tiptoes over the railing, arms waving. I pulled him back.

‘Come on. Let’s get something to eat. Mum’s been shopping. She’s made her spag bol. Fancy it?’ I didn’t want Leo to spot me. What if he banged on the door and stepped inside and started asking questions again? He was all right, maybe, but Peter and I were OK on our own. We didn’t need other people. And Leo was too different. We couldn’t really be friends.

I stared down. Leo was nearer. Fast. Something told me I had to trust someone, some time. But how could you be sure? How did you know who?

The first Saturday evening in October, they gathered at the table. Sue had made roast lamb. ‘No, not one of ours,’ she said, laughing in response to a question from Peter.

Lorraine and Sue laughed some more. Leo wasn’t sure when this soirée had been organized but he wished Sue had consulted him. He got the feeling he was being set up. Or that Sue was lonely, and both thoughts made him worry.

Audrey wasn’t looking at him though – she was busy chopping up Peter’s dinner into bite-sized chunks. Leo cleared his throat.

‘So,’ he said when she’d eventually finished and had begun to eat her own food. ‘How’s it going?’ She had started vanishing, just as he’d started to look out for her, so they hadn’t spoken in a while.

‘Yeah, I’m all right; just the same.’ Her voice: soft, gruff, like smoke. It was at odds with everything else about her. The sharp bones of her face, the long sweeping line of her neck.

‘Good.’ Leo poured water into their glasses. ‘I’m glad.’

‘You don’t have to keep asking me, you know,’ she said, and then turned away to help Peter with his drink and stop him feeding his dinner to Mary. Leo hunted for another topic, rolling his eyes when he was sure she wouldn’t see.

‘So, what about school? Are your teachers all right?’

‘Mostly.’ Audrey brushed her fringe out of the way and looked at him properly. ‘I like English. This book, about Jane Eyre; that’s good.’

‘It is, isn’t it?’

‘You’ve read it?’ She sounded surprised.

‘Yes.’ He’d studied the Brontës at his old school; it felt like forever ago.

‘I like how when that cousin beats her up she doesn’t take it; she fights him,’ Audrey said, her face serious but with something gleeful dancing in her eyes. Leo wanted to laugh again, but he coughed instead and concentrated on his dinner for a second.

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘I forgot about him. He comes to a sorry end.’

Audrey shot him a look. ‘Don’t flipping tell me what happens.’

‘Sorry.’ Leo sucked in his cheeks and raised his eyebrows while she stared at him as if he were an idiot. Were all their conversations going to be this weird?

After they’d cleared the table, Leo helped Sue carry in bowls of apple crumble and ice cream. He went to put one down before Audrey. Her eyes flicked towards her mother.

‘It’s all right, Leo, Aud’s allergic. I’ll take that,’ said Lorraine, reaching out and helping herself to Audrey’s portion as well as her own.

‘Oh. OK, well, I’ll get you something else, then – fruit, Audrey, all right?’ he said. She looked again at Lorraine and then nodded.

They finished the meal and Leo beckoned Audrey into the living room, leading her to a wall of shelves crammed with books.

‘When you’ve finished with Jane you might like this.’

He found
Wuthering Heights
and put it into her hands.

‘Have you read all these books?’ She examined the cover, then ran her eyes up and down and along the titles.

‘No.’ He laughed again. ‘Maybe a quarter, if that.’

‘Why not? If they were my books, I’d have read them all,’ she said, her voice outraged, and he sat down, giving up. The television was on for Peter, and Leo pretended to watch with him as Audrey settled herself into an armchair, legs tucked against her chest, burrowing into the novel.

Voices drifted from the kitchen; Sue and Lorraine were taking their time over coffee and Leo wondered what they had in common. A few things, he supposed. He listened more carefully, trying to hear what was being said, didn’t much like the sound of it and cleared his throat. He wanted to talk to Audrey. That would definitely be more fun.

‘So you like reading?’

‘Yeah, I had some books, poetry books mostly. But not any more.’

‘What happened to them?’

‘I dunno. I lost them.’

That was odd, but he didn’t ask and Audrey didn’t elaborate.
Blood, stone
, he thought, shaking his head, then he caught her watching him before her eyes darted away, back to the page.

Not much happened in the sticks. We went to Sue’s for dinner – well, they called it supper, which sounded silly to me – and then after that every day was the same. I didn’t mind though; there was enough to do with just getting Peter ready in the mornings and getting to school on time and remembering where everything was, the names of other kids and teachers and making sure there was something for our tea. I had the book from Leo and homework, and Mum was working all the time. The book went everywhere with me, in case it disappeared, and because maybe I wanted to be like that Catherine Earnshaw, half savage and hardy and free, and, well, just because. Mum came home with flowers one day, windswept and bright-eyed.

‘Look at these, Aud.’ Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure and I buried my face in the bouquet of roses and breathed in. They smelled of nothing, but I didn’t say so.

‘Who gave you them? They’re lovely, Mum.’

‘Oh, one of my patients. A lovely bloke. I’ve been caring for his son. Poor little lad. But, hey, we do our best. And it’s nice to be appreciated,’ she said, then frowned. ‘I don’t know why your dad couldn’t have shown a bit of bloody appreciation, Aud, then we wouldn’t be in this mess, would we?’ I didn’t know what that meant and didn’t ask. But I knew how much Mum’s patients loved her.
They were lucky to have her and they knew it too; she fussed over them worse even than she fussed over me. Sometimes they wrote her notes, gave her flowers – like these ones – or chocolates. Mum kept the thank-you letters sealed up in a special folder, said it kept her going when she felt low.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘put them in water for me, Aud, arrange them. And then do us a cuppa, would you, while I watch a bit of telly? I’m knackered.’

I nodded and arranged the flowers, placing them in the living room where she could see them. She nodded absent-mindedly, checking her face in her compact mirror, tweezering her eyebrows, then turning back to the television and flicking through the channels before checking her mobile phone.

Time passed. Our fourth week in the Grange Mum was working nights so I had to get Peter up for school on time. So far October had been nothing but rain and the mornings were colder and darker. On Thursday we overslept.

‘Pete, come on.’ I pulled him gently out of his dreams. ‘We’ll be late if we don’t hurry.’

He snuggled deeper under the covers, so I tickled and cajoled until he pulled himself up and crammed down some breakfast. It was almost half eight already. The pills from the new GP knocked me out and it was hard to really wake up. I made myself coffee. Swigged it back, poured another.

‘Come on, mate,’ I said. ‘Piggyback.’

I hitched my brother on to my back and set out across
the field towards the route Leo had shown us. It was definitely the quickest way, but we were still going to be late.

Peter clung to my shoulders.

‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘Wrap your legs round, I’m going to try and run.’

It was more of a hobble: he was heavy and I was slow and the ground was so muddy that I slithered and slipped, but I set my shoulders forward, ploughed on as if I meant to turn up the soil, plant a story of our own whatever the cost. Peter liked it, laughing and cheering me on.

‘Go faster, Aud! Come on!’

I couldn’t. When we got to the embankment he slid off my back while I bent over to catch my breath. It wasn’t just that; it was my ankle too. It always got like this when the weather was bad. Mum said I might need another op on it some time, but I couldn’t face the thought of that.

‘I want another piggyback,’ Peter said when I stood up, so I hauled him up again, shifting him higher, and plodded along. He kicked and waggled his legs like I was a horse he could persuade to go faster and I laughed, losing more breath, almost losing my footing. It was pointless. I stopped and tried to gather myself.

‘Maybe you should walk, Peter,’

‘No way. This is better.’

‘Yeah, for you maybe. But you’re getting heavy, mate.’

‘But there’s someone coming. Look. Race them.’

I swung round. Of course. Leo: pelting along like he was in the Olympics in a dark-blue hoody and mud-stained trainers. His cheeks were pink. His eyes bright and amused.

‘What are you two up to?’ he said, looking at Peter first,
then at me. ‘I saw you in the distance, thought I’d catch up.’ He grabbed a breath. ‘You all right?’

‘Yeah, I was just trying to get Peter to school on time. But he’s heavy.’

‘No, you’re not, are you?’ Leo said, grabbing Peter and swinging him up on to his shoulders like he weighed nothing. Peter squealed, half in fear, half in delight.

‘Come on, then,’ Leo said, and off we went again. I just about kept pace, jogging all the way to town, my heart punching against my ribs.

We dropped Peter off, just in time. For once he didn’t look round or check over his shoulder to stare at me with wide woebegone eyes. For once he ran along without a murmur and I was glad. Leo checked his watch.

‘We’re the ones who’ll be late at this rate,’ he said.

‘I know.’

‘So, come on.’

When we got to the road Leo moved to walk beside me, his body between mine and the cars.

‘It’s busy,’ he said, ‘the traffic’s ridiculous at this time of day.’ And I understood that he meant to shield me as a gentleman might his lady and a great hot blush began in my chest and ran its fingers up my neck and face and scalp. Taken, Lizzy had said. I wondered if he walked with her like this.

‘I’m OK,’ I said, but he stayed right next to me and slowed his stride to match my steps. Our arms brushed when the pavement narrowed and I jumped away like he’d got me with a cattle prod. He pretended not to notice, and I pretended I hadn’t done it. Staring straight ahead, I
walked. Never looking at Leo. Well, not that much – once, maybe twice.

‘Thanks for the rescue,’ I said, thinking about how he’d carried my brother all that way and with a smile on his face and everything. Not a lot of people would do that.

‘No problem. Although for it to be a proper rescue mission, there ought to have been a white horse with a flowing mane and I should have been in armour. I think that’s how it goes, at least.’

‘Oh, I don’t mean like that.’ He made me feel silly. I wasn’t a damsel in distress.

‘No?’

‘No, well, I don’t know.’ I looked at him, no idea what to say. Was he flirting with me or something? I stared at the floor and tried to rearrange my face to make it bland and neutral. Blank. But I was blushing like an idiot. If I actually wanted him to flirt with me, that was worse. Especially if he wasn’t. Oh, I just didn’t know.