You Against Me (29 page)

He phoned her from the bathroom, but her phone was off, so he left a message.
Call me
, he said.
It’s really important
.

His mum was there when he came out, leaning against the bedroom door, waiting for him.

She said, ‘Holly’s asleep. Are you coming back down?’

‘I’m going to bed.’

‘Shouldn’t we sort this out?’

She was less certain, the wine finally slowing her down. With a nudge from him, she’d go to bed and forget all about it.

He said, ‘Let’s leave it till tomorrow, eh?’

‘What about Gillian?’

‘You can’t phone her now, it’s late.’

She sighed, pulled out her cigarettes and offered him one. He opened the landing window and they stood there looking down at the courtyard, blowing smoke out into the dark. It had started raining again and it smelled fresh and cold out there. A baby was crying, a dog was sniffing about on the grass. A bloke, hands in pockets, whistled for it and together they went through the doors of the opposite block.

In a minute he’d try Ellie again, and if her phone was still off, he’d leave another message asking to meet tomorrow. Then, in the morning, all the normal routines would kick in – he’d get up, take Holly to school and go to work. Mum would sleep off the booze, Karyn would stop being mad at him, and when he explained to Ellie what had happened, she’d agree to come round to the flat and meet them. They’d like her. They’d drink tea together and decide what to do next.

His mum was yawning now, leaning against the window looking exhausted. She smiled wearily at him. ‘I think someone finally stole your heart, didn’t they, Mikey?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Go to bed, Mum.’

‘I always said you weren’t as tough as you made out.’

‘Serious, go to bed.’

She leaned in and kissed him goodnight. ‘It’ll all be clear in the morning, won’t it?’

‘It’ll be fine.’

‘I’ve got a daughter down there who needs me, and I want to do the right thing for once.’

‘Sleep on it. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

She nodded, walked away across the landing. At her bedroom door she turned and looked at him very seriously. ‘I want to be a good mum.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

She laughed. ‘I do though, that’s the trouble.’

Mikey held the fish by the head and scraped the scales away with the edge of a spoon. ‘From the tail towards the gills,’ Dex said. ‘Keep your strokes short and quick and work carefully around the fins – they’re sharp.’

Mikey was only half listening. Most of his attention was on his phone, which he’d stuck in his jeans pocket on vibrate. He’d left three messages with his mum already and she hadn’t returned any of them; he’d left at least ten with Ellie and she hadn’t got back to him either. He didn’t know whether to be relieved, or worried. No news was good news and all that, but if Mum woke up early and decided to ring Gillian, then anything could happen, and here he was, stuck at work.

He washed the fish under the tap, then gave it to Dex, who turned it belly up on the chopping board and slit it with a knife from its tail towards its head. Then it was blood and guts all over the place as Dex spread the fish open with his fingers and dragged the entrails out. They were bulbous and glistening as he flung them into the open bin, strangely pastel-coloured too – cream, yellow and pink, like something that belonged to summer. Dex washed the fish again, scooping his thumb up and down its insides, getting rid of the blood along its ribs and backbone and nudging off the last of the scales.

‘We’ll keep the head,’ he said. ‘Some fish you cut off behind the gills, but not this one.’

The fish looked up at them coldly as Dex explained how its eyes should be bright and round, not dehydrated or sunken. Mikey half expected it to blink, or to open its mouth and complain about having all its insides showing and nowhere to hide. Dex slapped it on the draining board and picked up the next one from a bucket at their feet.

‘These aren’t for the pub,’ he said, ‘but for me and Sue later – a little peace offering from you, Mikey. Tell her you thought of it all by yourself and tell her you’re sorry.’ He winked at Mikey as he handed it over. ‘Here you are, keep going.’

Mikey held it at the bottom of the sink and scraped away with the spoon, the water numbing his fingers. Dex stood at his shoulder, encouraging him, explaining how a bit of thyme, a bay leaf, some lemon and salt could turn the fish into a meal. It reminded Mikey of the time he’d dug up potatoes at primary school – his surprise at discovering chips came from the ground and were once covered in dirt. Here he was, all these years later, his fingers sticky with fish scales, still learning about food.

‘Is there anything you don’t know, Dex?’

‘Not much.’

They grinned at each other and Mikey wondered what it would be like to have Dex as a dad – someone to be on your side, someone to show you stuff and advise you when you didn’t have a clue. He wouldn’t want Sue as a mum though. Here she was again, slamming into the kitchen – second time this morning and still furious.

‘What are you doing in here?’ she snapped, pointing a finger at Mikey.

‘Gutting fish.’

‘When I’ve got toilets that need cleaning and a bar about to open?’

‘My fault,’ Dex said. ‘The lad wanted to prepare a feast for you, Sue, to show you how sorry he is.’

She scowled at them both, as if it was bound to be a trick.

‘I encouraged him,’ Dex told her. ‘I thought it showed good heart.’

A shadow of a smile, which she quickly covered with a frown as she turned to Mikey. ‘I hope you know you’re only in a job because of my husband?’

Mikey nodded.

‘And you know if you muck me around again, I’ll fire you?’

He nodded again and she went for it, telling him how rude and ungrateful he was, how the previous day had been their busiest of the season and she’d had to turn customers away at the door because he hadn’t bothered showing up. She asked him why he couldn’t be more like Jacko, who was always reliable and cheerful and who, incidentally, had been given the morning off for good behaviour.

‘Maybe there’s a lesson for you in there, Mikey,’ she said.

It struck him that Sue was the third person to shout at him in less than twelve hours and he probably should be getting used to it by now, but he wasn’t. All the yelling seemed to be adding up to something that dragged him down.

Dex shot her a look. ‘Give the boy a break, Sue. I’ll send him through to you as soon as he’s done here.’

She took a few paces towards him, hands on her hips. ‘I don’t know what you want to turn him into, Dex, but to me, he’s a cleaner until he earns my respect. Now get rid of that fish, Mikey, and come straight out to the bar. I’ve got a floor that needs mopping after you’ve done the toilets.’

When she’d gone, there was silence. Mikey rinsed the fish under the running tap, laid it on the draining board, then washed his hands with warm water and soap. He used the scrubbing brush and took his time. Dex chopped herbs on a board. Warm midmorning light flooded through the window and splashed the floor.

‘She’s angry you didn’t tell her,’ Dex said after a while. ‘If you wanted a day off, you should have asked, that’s all.’

‘Something came up.’

‘It always does.’ Dex stopped chopping and looked at him. ‘You’re a clever boy, Mikey, and you could be a great chef. Don’t waste your talent.’

Mikey couldn’t help grinning as he dried his hands on a towel. Did Dex really believe in him that much? He wanted to please him suddenly, to make him think he was worth all the trouble.

‘I’ll finish the fish later if you like,’ he said.

Dex looked at the fish on the draining board, the entrails in the bin, the three fish still in the bucket.

‘A kind offer, but Sue has plenty to keep you busy, I think. I’ll finish these off and tomorrow I’ll show you how to make a stock out of the trimmings.’ He patted his belly. ‘I’ll teach you bouillabaisse – the best French soup you ever tasted.’

They shook hands on it and Mikey had something to look forward to again, just like that.

In the toilets he called Ellie again – still no joy, and no reply from his mum either. He risked phoning Karyn, figured it’d be worth getting yelled at if he found out what was happening.

She picked up straight away. ‘What do you want?’

‘Just wondered how it’s going?’

‘Fantastic.’

She sounded like she meant it, which was worrying. ‘Is Mum up?’

‘Yep.’

‘Can I speak to her?’

‘No.’

A stab in his guts. ‘Why, what’s she doing?’

He strained to hear background noises, something that would tell him Mum was simply in the kitchen, stumbling about making her first coffee of the day, that Karyn was bluffing, that this would still be all right. But he heard nothing, except the sound of his sister’s breathing.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry for everything, OK? Just tell me what’s happening.’

‘Why, so you can warn your girlfriend?’

‘I don’t want her to be scared, that’s all.’

‘You think I give a toss about that?’

‘She’s on your side, Karyn. If you want to hate someone, hate her brother.’

‘I hate them both.’

Everything tightened inside him as he pressed the phone closer, struggling to find a way to get through to her. ‘Ellie wanted to believe he was innocent – that’s not so weird, is it? If I did something terrible, wouldn’t you help me?’

‘You’d never do anything like that!’

‘That’s what she thought about him. He’s going to hate her for grassing him up, so why do you have to make it even more difficult? Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?’

It felt like minutes waiting for her to speak. Eventually she said, ‘I’ll get Mum to call you when Gillian’s gone.’

And then she put the phone down.

Mikey rammed out of the toilets, through the bar, out of the main door and across the car park. He left Ellie a message as he walked:
Call me. Serious. Call me as soon as you get this
. He tried his mum, but she didn’t pick up. He tried Karyn again. Nothing.

He should have gone over to Ellie’s house after dropping Holly at school, he’d been an idiot not to. Or before school even – last night when it all kicked off. He could have climbed the gate, shinned up the drainpipe, spent the night by her side and kept her safe.

At the harbour wall he sat on a bench and tried to calm down. OK, it was possible Karyn was winding him up and his mum was still asleep. But it was also possible that Gillian was at the flat right now, finding out all the details, organizing squad cars. Couldn’t you be charged with perjury for lying to cops?

He left another message:
I’m sorry, Ellie, I’m so sorry, but I think something bad’s about to happen
.

Fourth apology in twenty-four hours. He’d made such a cock-up. He’d hurt Karyn, hurt Ellie, and he hadn’t meant to do either, not in a million years. He closed his eyes, tried to keep calm. If he just sat here, if he simply kept breathing, maybe it would be all right.

Good girls aren’t supposed to think of a boy’s velvet neck, or the tilt of his head when he smiles. They’re especially not supposed to think of these things when it’s their last study skills session for the non-calculator Maths exam.

Ellie blinked several times to erase all thoughts of Mikey.

‘So, that’s an example question,’ Ms Farish said. ‘Now please take up your notebooks, write down three criticisms of this method of estimation, and remember, as long as what you say is plausible and sensible, you should get the marks.’

Ellie sighed, and opened up her notebook. If she couldn’t concentrate on statistics and probability, she could at least do something useful. She turned to a blank page and wrote
Revision
, then she drew a table with twelve columns and divided up the weeks until the main GCSE exams began and gave the table thirty-five rows. She’d revise for three hours every night when she got home from school. She’d eat dinner (half an hour), then she’d revise for a further two hours until bed. At weekends, she’d revise for ten hours a day and would reward herself with a DVD. She’d get seven hours’ sleep a night. She tried to work out how many total hours’ revision she’d given herself and how many hours’ sleep she’d get, but this was a non-calculator study session and she couldn’t get her head round it. Instead, at the bottom of the page she drew a green snake with a red tongue.

Beyond the classroom window, sun glittered on the playground. The edge of the playing field was just visible and the grass looked very friendly waving at her. Ellie thought of the river, just out of view. She liked the fact she couldn’t see it, but that she knew its freezing sparkle would be making bright patterns on the fence.

The probability of something which is certain is one. The probability of something which is impossible is zero. Taking off her clothes and jumping into the river on that Wednesday afternoon when she should have been at school was definitely in the second category, and yet it had happened. How did mathematics explain that?

Statement: A girl and a boy jump into a river. The boy swims over to the girl and says, ‘God, it’s cold.’

Question: What’s the probability they will kiss?’

No, she mustn’t think of Mikey! She especially mustn’t think of kissing him yesterday – his kisses, soft and insubstantial at first, hardly there at all, and yet enough to make her blood leap. She mustn’t think of how the kisses built – becoming desperate, as if they were both searching for something.

She snapped her attention back to the classroom. Her plan was to work hard and make up for all the study sessions she’d missed, and there was no time in that regime for Mikey.

‘So,’ Ms Farish said, ‘let’s remind ourselves of different ways to represent data diagrammatically.’

Ellie wrote down,
Horizontal axis, Vertical axis
. She listened as Ms Farish described how to group data into classes. But when it came to drawing a graph, she drew a cottage instead, a fire, a boy, a zip. She wrote the words
I’ve never felt this with anyone before
. And bolded them, boxed them in. Wrote them again in capitals.