Paper Aeroplanes (23 page)

‘Girls are so overdramatic. Why does that have to ruin your friendship?’

‘You don’t get it, do you? She slept with my brother a few months after our dad died then lied to me about it. How the hell can I be friends with her after that?’ I say. Does he seriously not see what the problem is?

‘No, Flo.’ He is shouting now. It feels unnecessary. ‘YOU don’t get it, do you? I don’t know how much more obvious I can make it to you. He wasn’t
our
dad.’

My heart changes rhythm.

‘What did you say?’ I ask, a lump forming in my throat.

‘I found out a few years ago when I heard them arguing about it. You were too young to understand it so we just carried on pretending, but everything was fucked after that. Mum doesn’t know where my real dad is. All she knows is that “Dad” wasn’t my dad,’ he says, raising his eyebrows as if I should have known.

I fall backwards into a chair. It’s just a lucky coincidence that it was there.

‘Was he definitely my dad?’ I ask, momentarily petrified.

‘Of course he was. You were almost the same person.’

How many blows can one person take before they are allowed to officially declare themselves destroyed? I’ve heard of people being winded by physical impact, but I am getting it from shock. For once Julian doesn’t storm out of the room just because I’m in it. He continues to make himself a sandwich and even offers to make me one too. I don’t accept it. I don’t think my mouth would remember how to chew. He seems relieved to have finally got that off his chest. Good for him. I feel like a helicopter just landed on my head. I rest my chin on my hand and force myself to breathe.

The doorbell rings. I get it.

‘Mr Du Putron, what are you –’ I begin, very surprised to see him.

‘Where is he?’ he asks rudely.

I have always been scared of Sally’s dad, but as an unexpected visitor at your house he is even more menacing.

‘Sorry, who? Dad? Did Sally not tell you?’

‘No, not your father, your brother. Your dirty bastard brother. Where is he?’

A plate clanks in the kitchen and Mr Du Putron pushes me aside as he storms through my house. I close the door, and by the time I get to the kitchen he is on top of Julian on the kitchen table and is punching him. I don’t know what to do.

‘Mr Du Putron, stop it!’ I try to get close to them but the energy coming off him is like a barrier. ‘What’s going on?’ I shout pointlessly.

‘You dirty bastard. You put your filthy hands on my daughter and now she’s pregnant. I’ll kill you!’ spits Sally’s dad.

His words impact my brain as hard as Mr Du Putron’s fists hit my brother’s face. Sally is pregnant by Julian? What?

I watch him as he continues to hit Julian. A part of me knows I should stop him but the rest of me wants to see my brother get demolished. Eventually Julian manages to shove Mr Du Putron away, but he bangs his head on the table as he falls to the floor. Mr Du Putron lies there, panting heavily, then he gets to his feet, tells Julian he will pay for what he has done, and leaves.

I feel the rest of my world come crashing down around me.

‘You could leave all your winter clothes here and get them when you come back?’ I say to Nell as I watch her pull the clothes out of her cupboard.

‘I’m not coming back, Renée,’ she tells me in her usual cold tone.

‘I just think you should keep an open mind about this. If you get your hopes up too much and it doesn’t work out then you will be so disappointed,’ I say, in an attempt to be sisterly.

‘Stop trying to bring me down, will you? Can’t you see that for the first time in years I am actually looking forward to something?’ Nell snaps.

I feel like I don’t know her at all. I feel so hated by her, and so unable to make it better. What chance do we ever have of becoming close if she lives in Spain?

‘I’m going to miss you,’ I say as I sit on the edge of my bed and cry. She stops packing and looks at me. Her hard face softens, taking me by surprise.

‘I think we both have to change, don’t you? I know I’m the psycho out of the two of us, but you can’t carry on being the way you are either,’ Nell says, sounding so grown-up.

I’m not quite sure what part of me she is talking about, but I nod. I don’t know how I always get things so wrong. I don’t mean to.

‘Here, I’ll help you with that.’ I get up and carry her case downstairs. Nana, Pop and Aunty Jo are all waiting in the drive.

‘Your grandpa is going to take you to the airport. I don’t think I could cope with saying goodbye there,’ says Nana, her hair done perfectly. She wraps her arms around Nell, and cries the most honest tears she has cried in years.

‘Come on, and one for your favourite aunty too,’ says Aunty Jo. She gives her a huge squeeze and kisses her head. ‘You can always come back, OK?’

Nell nods.

I stand waiting for my cuddle, I don’t know why I think I’ll get one but I hope it so much. My breath is loud and jerky. I explode with grief when Nell gets straight into the car without saying goodbye to me. I still don’t know what I did to make her so mad at me. Pop drives her away, and I sob out eight years of agony into Aunty Jo’s shoulder. As she leads me back into the house, I hear Nell’s voice.

‘Renée?’

Pop’s car has stopped halfway down the hill. Nell is standing next to it. After a short pause we run so fast that we smack into each other so hard it should hurt. We squeeze so tight that I don’t think I can ever let her go, our wet cheeks squashed together in a moment that we both thought would never happen, but need so much.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says.

‘I’m sorry too.’

‘Come on, Nell. You will miss your flight,’ says Aunty Jo as she gently pulls us apart and guides her back to the car. I watch as Pop drives her away. She looks back at me until they are totally out of sight. I have no idea when I will see my sister again.

The school hall feels so different – institutional, stark, unwelcoming. I’m used to it being the place where four hundred of us group together every morning and sing hymns, listen to readings and laugh about all the cat hair stuck to Miss Grut’s clothes, but today it is an exam hall and the atmosphere is serious. There are five perfectly straight rows of small desks around two metres apart. Mine is three from the back, Sally’s is in front of me to the left, Renée must be somewhere behind me. I daren’t turn around to look. The three of us being in the same room since
that
morning is another distraction from my first GCSE exam that I really don’t need.

I look at Sally. Her hair is messier than usual. Since Miss Anthony announced that the exam had begun she’s been writing furiously. Something tells me she has more to prove than usual.

I think about Dad, how proud he would be of me if I do well. How if I pass my exams I can get away from all this – go to university, find new friends, live on my own, get a job and buy my own clothes and make something of my life. I get stuck in. I can do this. I can get good grades.

About half an hour in Miss Anthony gets up and walks up and down each of the rows. She’s wearing a pink flowery skirt with a pale pink blouse and soft-soled shoes. I wonder if she’s been told to wear soft-soled shoes so the sound of her feet doesn’t distract us. As she gets to me her eyes glance over my work and I feel a sudden fear that the answers I have given are wrong. Without thinking I shield them from her view with my arm. The fear of failing this exam brings on a controllable but nauseating panic attack. My breath gets harder to catch, and I’m about to get up, leave school, leave the exams. I can’t do this. Just as I prepare to run out a paper aeroplane skims the side of my face and lands on my exam paper.

I look at it then flip my head from side to side to see if anyone saw. This could fail me my GCSE. How can Renée do this? Miss Anthony is seconds away from looping round the bottom of the row and walking back up towards me again. If she sees the note it’s game over. I snatch it from in front of me and stuff it into my bra. Miss Anthony sees the final stage of this move so I have to causally act like my nipple is itchy. She looks away quickly. I think I got away with it. Through my rage I carry on with my maths exam. I do not and will not acknowledge Renée. I don’t want to be manipulated any more.

At the end we have to leave the hall row by row in total silence. I don’t want to see anyone, so I keep my head down and walk as quickly as I can out of the school. But obviously not quickly enough.

‘Flo, Flo. Wait.’

It’s Sally. She’s chasing me.

‘Flo, WAIT FOR ME!’

Whatever part of my brain it was that she trained to obey her responds and I stop. She is in front of me. Her face looks fatter.

‘You can’t walk away from me, Flo. Not any more,’ Sally warns me.

‘What do you mean, not any more?’

‘Now I am,’ she whispers, ‘pregnant with your brother’s baby.’

The words ‘half-brother’ fly into my mouth, but I choose not to say them.

‘Oh yes, that. Your dad did mention that,’ I say, obviously fuming about his turning up to my house and punching Julian’s lights out in our kitchen.

For once she doesn’t have an answer. Instead I see a flicker of something vulnerable in her eyes. Guilt, maybe. It’s hard to tell with her.

‘Mum was worried the police would arrest Dad,’ she says, sheepishly.

‘You’re not even sixteen, Sally. Neither was Renée. Julian wants to keep this as quiet as possible. So quiet that he’s left Guernsey. He just packed up and went. Who knows what he is thinking.’

‘What do you mean, left Guernsey? When will he be back? He can’t just leave!’ Sally says, looking panicked.

‘Yeah, well, he has. So I guess that tells us what kind of person he really is, doesn’t it? And as for you, Jesus, Sally! You went to all of that effort to expose Renée when all the while you were doing the same thing. You are pregnant with my brother’s baby. How could you do that?’

‘Don’t blame me! It’s not my fault he doesn’t use condoms, is it? And stop being so mean to me, I . . .’ There’s that look again. That vulnerability. It isn’t enough to force an apology out of her, but it’s enough to make me realise that Sally is frightened. ‘My dad is really mad, Flo. Really, really mad.’

I imagine the baby in her tummy. I want to hate it, I want to hate her, but even if Julian is only my half-brother, somewhere down the line that baby is a part of me. I already feel sorry for it, that Sally is its mother, that Julian is its dad. What chance does it have? Maybe I am its only chance. NO. I have to ignore these feelings. This isn’t my problem. Whatever mess she has got herself into it is hers to sort out. I have enough to deal with.

‘Well, then, you should have controlled yourself. I don’t want anything to do with you, Sally. I didn’t before and I certainly don’t now. You’re on your own.’ I walk away.

‘But Flo, you’re my best friend!’

I don’t look back.

Sitting on my bed later that night I should be revising for my English literature exam in the morning, but the note that Renée threw at me is in my rucksack and I swear I can hear it whispering my name. ‘I miss you’ is written on its left wing; the front is weighted down with a small ball of blue tac. What could it possibly say to make any of this better? The word sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it. Then it strikes me. What if she is pregnant too? I start to unfold it. I’m nervous, angry, and determined not to forgive her, no matter what it says.

Dear Flo

I adjust my pillow so that I am comfortable. I take a sip of tea, a deep breath, and continue to read.

Sorry I threw this at you in an exam. I know that will have made you mad but I also knew you wouldn’t take it from me if I tried to give it to you. My life has changed so much since we last spoke, but even though all the things that were wrong before I met you are better, I am finding not seeing or talking to you so hard.

I know I’m always getting told off at school for messing around, and by Pop for whatever reason he can think of to have a go at me, and I know it’s usually my fault. But the way I feel about you being angry with me is different. I can’t handle it.

I was going to tell you everything. Lying was driving me crazy and I wanted to be honest. I am so sorry I had sex with Julian. I thought I loved him but obviously I didn’t, I just got sucked in. If it’s any consolation, after that night in his car he never spoke to me again and left me feeling so horrible about myself that if you think I haven’t suffered like you have then you are wrong. I have hated myself more than I think you could ever hate me, so please don’t think I got off lightly.

What’s worse out of all of this is that I have lost you, the one true friend I’ve ever had. You are the best person I have ever known and I miss you every day. What makes it even worse is that you’re just a few miles away but the only reason I can’t see you is because you don’t want to see me. Nothing I ever do will ever make me feel as guilty or as heartbroken as that makes me feel.

Margaret told me about Sally and Julian. If I’m honest I’m not surprised. I know I am not one to talk but she got what she deserved. Of all the condoms to break, though, right?

I love you. I want you to be my friend again. I don’t know if people forgive for things like this, but if there is any part of you that ever wants to go back to how things were, then I am all yours.

R x

I wipe a stream of tears from my cheek and sit holding the letter for a few minutes before rolling it into a ball and throwing it into the bin. I can’t forgive her, and I won’t.

The front door slams shut. Mum is home.

Fred is with her. His words of comfort are hard to hear under the sound of her wailing.

I hear a bottle smash and then a thud. Fred tells her to pull herself together. She screams at him to leave her alone and he leaves, slamming the front door behind him. I swear that door is going to fall off its hinges soon.

I make my way downstairs. Mum is on her hands and knees in the kitchen sweeping up the broken glass with a dustpan and brush. She looks up at me. She looks so tired.