Furious Thing

by Jenny Downham

‘Iris could’ve been killed,’ John said.

  ‘But she wasn’t.’

  ‘No thanks to your daughter.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘How long have we been in that hospital? Two hours? What a total waste of time. I knew Iris wouldn’t need stitches. Why does no one listen to me? Why does no one ever take notice of anything I say?’

  We were all silent.

  John turned to Mum again. ‘And you love dishing out the advice, don’t you? You call me up, and without even seeing Iris you insist on dragging her to hospital. What did you tell me? “You don’t always know best, John.” Turns out I do though, doesn’t it?’

  Please, I thought. Please leave her alone.

  John said, ‘Why did that doctor want all that information from us at the end, eh? I tell you why – because she thought we were irresponsible parents. She thought we were low-life scum. Well, you might be low-life, but I’m sure as hell not. How do you think that made me feel?’ He leaned back in his seat to get a better look at her. ‘I’ve a good mind to call that doctor when I get home and tell her I was innocently sitting at my desk trying to earn this family some money when you swanned off and left the kids up a fucking tree.’

  ‘I didn’t know they were there. I had no idea.’

  ‘Christ, woman – you only had to look out the window.’

  ‘I did. I couldn’t see them.’

  ‘Oh, so you had zero clue where they were, and you buggered off anyway?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that. I knew they were in the garden. I thought they’d come upstairs when they got bored.’ Her voice was wobbling. ‘I didn’t leave them by themselves. You were there. You were in the flat.’

  ‘Oh, so this is my fault?’

  ‘That’s not what I’m saying.’

  ‘Take some responsibility.’ He jabbed a finger at her. ‘Our daughter could have died. Do you understand how serious this is?’

  I stared at him. At his jutting chin and furious eyes. I stared at Mum. At the tremble of her lips and the way her hands had turned white clutching the steering wheel.

  And I grabbed the book of maps that was tucked into the back pocket of the driving seat, unrolled the window and let the book fall. It broke as it hit the road and lay there flapping like an injured bird. The car behind us hooted. A cyclist slapped the roof of our car as she passed.

  John whipped round to me. ‘What did you just do?’

  I snatched a handful of rubbish from floor – a crisp packet and several toffee wrappers and let them flutter away into the wind.

  ‘Stop it. Why are you doing this?’

  I blinked at him. I wasn’t sure.

  He looked back at Mum. ‘Have you no control over her?’

  She glanced at me in the mirror. ‘Lexi,’ she warned. ‘Whatever you’re doing – stop.’

  I wrenched the plastic ice scraper from the side pocket and threw it out after the wrappers.

  ‘Christ,’ John said. ‘She’s a fucking monster.’

  ‘What’s she up to? I can’t see in the mirror.’

  ‘Chucking stuff.’ He turned to glare at me. ‘Are you mad?’

  I shook my head at him.

  ‘Should I pull over?’ she asked him.

  ‘No, because she’s going to stop.’ He sat there glaring at me to make sure I did. I put the part of me that wanted his golden smile into a box and shoved it away.

  When he turned back to Mum, he said, ‘She was a nightmare earlier as well.’

  ‘What did she do earlier?’ Mum said.

  ‘Apart from take her sister up a tree, you mean?’

  ‘Apart from that.’

  ‘She got the neighbour involved, for one thing,’ John said. ‘I had that interfering cow going on and on, chasing me across the garden insisting it was an emergency.’ He twisted back to me. ‘You should have come straight upstairs and got me. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking knocking on other people’s doors.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Mum said.

  ‘You told her to phone Mum as well, didn’t you?’ John said. ‘You gave her Mum’s number?’

  ‘I didn’t. She had it already.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me.’

  ‘John,’ Mum said. ‘Let me deal with her when we get back.’

  ‘Hear that?’ he said to me. ‘You’re in trouble with your mum when you get home?’

  I nodded. ‘OK.’

  He shook his head at Mum. She shook hers at him. He reached out and patted her knee. She gave him a small smile.

  ‘We have a monster in our midst,’ he said.

  ‘She’s upset, that’s all.’

  ‘We’re all upset. You need to keep a tighter rein.’

  She nodded. ‘Any chance of a travel sweet?’

  He pulled open the cubby and got the tin. He took one and popped it in her mouth. He took another for himself and put the tin back in the cubby.

  A Monster in Our Midst

  I was often bad after that. It was like something came over me.

  If it were a movie, I’d grow extra muscles and my T-shirt would rip, but it was just my life, so all that happened was I’d knock a plate to the floor or drop a cup or accidentally swear and John’s attention would turn on me. It reminded me of the way Granddad used to hunt for snails at night with a headtorch. They’d get caught in a beam of light and he’d pick them up and dunk them in a bucket of salt water. John would switch his beam on me and shout and wave his arms around and tell Mum I was out of control.

  Once, I took John’s favourite ashtray (the one he’d had since being a student) and smashed it on the kitchen floor. Mum had been washing it in the sink and knocked it against the tap.

  ‘Oh shit,’ she said. ‘Oh, sodding hell.’

  I snatched the two halves from her and flung them.

  ‘Lex!’ she said. ‘No!’

  She probably thought she could have fixed it with glue and John would never have noticed the crack. But he would have.

  He came bounding in. ‘My ashtray!’ He dropped to his knees to get a better look at the damage.

  ‘It was annoying me,’ I said.

  ‘Go to your room,’ he whispered.

  I went to my bedroom and sat by the window. It was ages before I was allowed out.

  The first time he grounded me, I ran away. I sat on the low wall at the front of Ben and Meryam’s house and watched them eat together. I couldn’t hear a word they were saying, but I liked watching them. When I got home, I wouldn’t say sorry and John wouldn’t let me eat supper. It was fish pie and I said I didn’t care. I said it looked like vomit.

  It was different when Kass came to stay. He’d dare me to put chilli powder in John’s pyjamas or fake soap in his bathroom or salt in his tea, and if we got caught it would just be funny. If John ever got mad when Kass was there, we’d hide in the laundry cupboard or climb the tree and drop down to the cemetery and lose ourselves for hours.

  One time, after Kass had gone home and I knew I wouldn’t see him for ages, I got a bus by myself and stood in the dark at the bottom of his block of flats and longed for him to come back. I thought about asking his mum if I could live with her instead. I stood there for so long trying to pluck up courage that by the time I got the bus home, Mum was hysterical, thinking I’d been abducted.

  I wrote her a note saying, I wish we were a pair of whiptail lizards.

  She looked it up and discovered they’re an all-female species.

  ‘Why would you wish such a thing?’ she asked.

  I said I didn’t know.

  John was trying to be a good father to me, she said. But I wasn’t making it easy. I needed to make more of an effort. The world was a difficult place and we all had our crosses to bear.

  17

  Kass, my Kass, was coming for supper. While I waited, I sat in the lounge with my hoodie up and my eyes cast down and tried to be as invisible as possible. But it seemed like everyone kept saying Kass’s name, and whenever they did I could feel my face burn and John would give me these looks, like he
was thinking, You better leave my precious son alone, Alexandra!

  He asked why I was moody. He asked if I was protesting about something. He told me it was all very well to have a revision plan, but how about I got my act together and did some actual studying before supper? Mum made me herbal tea to help me focus. Iris sat next to me on the sofa and asked me to tell her about sleeping over at Kass’s place last night.

  ‘Did you play games?’ she said. ‘Did you watch movies?’

  I shook my head and pulled my hood lower.

  ‘Did you order pizza and get it delivered?’

  I yawned massively. ‘Stop bugging me, Iris.’

  ‘Dad said you were drunk – did Kass’s mum tell you off?’ She poked me with her sharp little elbow. ‘If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask Kass when he gets here.’

  ‘Well, he won’t tell you either. So, don’t be an idiot.’ I sounded high-pitched and furious. They all turned to look at me.

  ‘Apologize to your sister,’ John said. ‘You’re supposed to be treating family members with respect.’

  I had to deliberately breathe slow and long. ‘Sorry, Iris.’

  I decided it was easier not to talk at all. I answered questions with a bored yes or no, and whenever anyone mentioned Kass’s name, I pretended to be deaf. John got pissed off – Seriously, Alexandra – you want me to add sulking to the contract? Iris kept being annoying and Mum kept offering me jobs, as if peeling carrots and potatoes was going to cheer me up. It was a relief when I had the fantastic idea of watching a French movie with subtitles to improve my vocabulary and John reluctantly agreed. I curled up with my iPad and headphones and watched the whole of De rouille et d’os, where Marion Cottilard has her legs chewed off by a killer whale and then gets to be in charge of her boyfriend’s martial arts fights.

  It was strange when Kass walked in. He looked scruffy and tired. He hailed us with the flat of his palm from the doorway and then slumped on the only free seat.

  ‘So,’ he said, rubbing his hair with both hands as if he was trying to wake up his brain. ‘How’s it hanging here?’

  John stared at him. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Kass smiled innocently. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Why are you so late?’ John tapped his watch. ‘We said six and it’s nearly seven. We’re all starving.’

  Mum came to the doorway in her apron. ‘You’re here, good. Can I serve up?’

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ Kass said. ‘My mum had a freak out.’

  Mum froze in the doorway. ‘What about?’

  ‘Is this because of last night?’ John said, glaring at me. ‘Is it because this one turned up on her doorstep?’

  ‘No,’ Kass said, shooting me a quick look. ‘It was nothing to do with that.’

  ‘Well, what then?’

  Kass shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘If she’s upset about you coming over here for supper,’ John said, ‘then she’s out of order.’

  ‘Funny,’ Kass said. ‘That’s what she said about you.’

  We all looked at him and there was an awkward silence.

  John said, ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

  Kass looked startled. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I hope you’re not taking your mother’s side? I hope you’re not going to tell me I should know where this one is at every moment of the day?’ He flipped a thumb at me.

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘Kass,’ Mum said, stepping between them, ‘could you give me a hand in the kitchen, please?’

  ‘I don’t want him wriggling out of this.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Mum said. ‘But I need help carrying things in.’

  John shook his head. ‘I expected more from you, son. I’m disappointed.’

  Mum and Kass went out to the kitchen to serve up and Iris was dragged with them to get cutlery. John glared at me. ‘This is your fault.’

  I didn’t care. Kass hardly ever went against John. The power of a kiss, I thought.

  The meal went OK. There was wine, but I wasn’t allowed any. Kass and John made up and I wondered when John was going to start talking about my dreadful behaviour and Kass was going to defend me and insist I didn’t need a doctor. But apart from thanking Kass for ‘taking care of things’ last night, John didn’t mention me at all and Kass didn’t bring any of it up either. Iris chatted nonsense and Mum made wedding plan suggestions and John talked about work and architecture and it turned out to be one of those times when John was happy, and it drew everyone in and changed the mood. They all relaxed, except for me. I wasn’t part of the golden picture. I sat there saying nothing at all.

  John opened a second bottle of wine. As I watched Kass drink, I thought of us kissing. The memory felt like a dream, like it was something that hadn’t really happened to me. I wanted Kass to wink at me or pass a secret note under the table, so I’d know it was true and that he was thinking about it as well, but he never did.

  For pudding, Mum brought out a cheese platter and slices of melon and various yoghurts. I spooned hazelnut yoghurt in my mouth while watching John slice cheese. The knife curved upwards and had spikes on the top like a weapon. John made the slices so thin they were almost see-through, like dried-up pieces of paper. He picked them up gently and laid them flat upon a cracker. He lifted it carefully. His mouth opened like a cave, his tongue reached out, glistening.

  Kass watched me watching John and reached for more wine.

  ‘Don’t drink it so quick,’ John said through the cracker. ‘It’s good wine, that.’

  ‘Too good for me?’

  John laughed. ‘Too good for someone who prefers necking cheap beer. Come on, don’t leave me with sediment.’ Kass laughed back at him. ‘Good wine doesn’t have sediment.’

  ‘You’re wrong there, son. The high quality stuff isn’t filtered.’ John took the bottle away and poured a glass for himself, right to the brim. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. ‘So, given your dad knows a thing or two – it’s back to uni tomorrow, yes? And then you’re going to knuckle down for exams? And we’ve agreed – no more sudden visits home?’

  Kass nodded and my whole body clamped. That sounded like they’d talked about me already. That sounded like Kass hadn’t fought for me at all and had simply agreed to stay away.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t want to see you,’ John said. ‘But your job is to study, not to come hurtling down whenever Alexandra gets into trouble. I’ll pop more money in your account to tide you over, so don’t worry about finances.’

  Kass pressed my foot under the table as John sliced more cheese. Maybe he wanted me to know he was sorry, that he’d tried to talk to John about the doctor, but there was nothing to be done.

  I moved my foot away. He was leaving and wouldn’t be home again for weeks.

  ‘I need air,’ I said.

  I sounded like an idiot from a movie, and I bet John rolled his eyes.

  I sat on the fire escape steps. The garden was quiet and smelled of rain. It was the kind of evening the dead might come walking. If I still had the necklace I’d summon Granddad and tell him to bring his friends and they’d materialize through the fence together and walk across the grass. They’d smell of good things like wood smoke and wet leaves and that petrol smell garages have. ‘We’re here for you,’ Granddad would say, and all his dead mates would nod and smile.

  ‘You OK?’ Kass said when he finally came out and sat next to me. He’d topped up his wine again and some sloshed on the step.

  I nodded. But I wasn’t OK. Everything in me was hurting.

  He said, ‘I got it in the neck from my mum. That’s why I was late. She had a right go at me for letting you get drunk and for abandoning Cerys.’

  ‘She had a go at John too. She grassed me up, telling him I spent the night at yours.’

  ‘We told her my dad knew, that’s why. She only called to check he was treating you right.’

  I hadn’t thought of it that way. I felt warm
towards Sophie again. ‘Did you tell her we kissed?’

  Kass flicked a quick look of alarm up the stairs. ‘Keep your voice down.’

  ‘Is that why she had a go at you about abandoning Cerys?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t tell her.’

  ‘I don’t mind if you did. I like your mum.’

  ‘I’m not going to tell her, OK? I got the third degree from her this afternoon. She reckons I’m turning into my dad.’

  ‘You’re nothing like him.’

  ‘I bloody hope not.’

  I loved the way he shivered. ‘Imagine living without them,’ I said. ‘Imagine having a flat and garden like this.’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t want what they’ve got.’

  ‘No, but a place of our own. Wouldn’t that be cool?’

  ‘What about Iris?’

  ‘She can come.’

  He laughed as if it was a game.

  I took a breath. ‘I’ve got a plan, Kass. One that means I don’t have to see a doctor.’

  He stopped laughing. ‘Oh, yeah?’

  ‘I’m going to come and live with you in Manchester. I’m sixteen in thirteen days. I’m going to come then.’

  He turned to look at me. Whole seconds ticked by. ‘Is that even legal?’

  ‘Strictly speaking, I need parental consent, but the website said I was unlikely to be made to come back unless I was in danger.’

  ‘Then the website doesn’t know my dad. He would not let that happen. You can’t just leave your life.’

  I could, actually. I’d looked it up. I’d also looked up what would happen when John refused to top up Kass’s living costs in revenge and discovered that once Kass had proved estrangement, he could apply to the university’s Hardship Fund. If that wasn’t enough to keep us, I’d get a job.

  ‘Everything will be legal in two weeks, Kass.’

  ‘That makes no difference. I live in student accommodation. It’s for a single person.’

  ‘I’ll live there secretly until we find something else.’

  ‘You’d get discovered in five minutes. There’s always people milling around.’

  ‘I’ll hide in the wardrobe if anyone comes.’