Furious Thing

by Jenny Downham

  All I had to do was get through school, go home and manage an evening with John.

  How bad could it be?

  22

  The night after my granddad’s funeral, I wet the bed. I crept along the hallway to let Mum know, scared she’d be cross. But she helped me off with my nightie and wiped me down with a towel and gave me one of her T-shirts to wear and let me sleep next to her. She tucked me warm beside her, kissed me and told me not to worry about a thing. I’d been scared for no reason at all.

  Maybe I’d made a mistake about John too. He was always lovely to Iris, wasn’t he? He adored Kass. Mum was the love of his life. It was only me he seemed to have constant trouble with.

  Maybe he wasn’t a bad person at all?

  Looking at him now as I walked in from school, slouched at his desk with his head in his hands – he seemed so harmless. He’s just a man, I thought. He’s just a bloke trying to get by in a difficult world.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘How’s it going?’

  He looked up and smiled. ‘There you are. I was getting worried.’

  ‘Sorry I’m late. I walked the long way home, through the park.’

  He turned to the window as if checking things like parks existed. He said, ‘I haven’t been out all day. I was going to go to the office but couldn’t face it.’

  I stood in the doorway, not sure what to do next. ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’ I said when the silence got mildly awkward.

  He looked round and smiled again. ‘Sure. Thanks.’

  I made it properly in the pot and I used his favourite cup, even though I had to wash it out and I could just have got a different one from the hooks. I didn’t stew the tea too long or fill the cup too high, because he hated that, and I put precisely half a teaspoon of sugar in and stirred it thoroughly. I was pleased I knew what to do – exactly what – but also surprised, because I didn’t think I’d been taking that much notice of Mum’s routines. I put two shortbreads and two chocolate digestives on a plate and put that and both teacups on a tray and went up to John’s study. I stood in the doorway until he noticed me because I didn’t want to assume I should put the tray on his desk.

  He moved some papers and gestured to me to put the tray down. ‘Wow,’ he said, ‘great service.’ He swung his legs onto the leather sofa and picked up a biscuit.

  I took my tea and sat carefully on the sofa. His feet bounced a tiny bit, but he didn’t say a word.

  I knew shortbreads were his favourite so, in case he wanted both, I took a digestive to give him a choice. I sat there and sipped my tea and I wanted to ask stuff, like: Where were you last night? Or: Do you have any idea why Mum took Iris and not me? But I knew questions stressed him out and that kind might make him yell at me, so I just kept quiet.

  Eventually he said, ‘So, how was school?’

  He said it so warmly, like he genuinely wanted to know. ‘It was OK. I had Media and then Drama, so that was good.’

  He nodded, as if he understood.

  ‘But then I had double Maths, which wasn’t much fun.’

  ‘What did you have for lunch?’

  I couldn’t remember, and my guts literally clamped. Then I remembered I’d had crisps and a chocolate bar because the queue had been too long at the canteen, so I told him I’d had a salad sandwich and a bottle of water and he raised an eyebrow at me and we both laughed.

  I really liked him knowing I was bullshitting.

  He took the other shortbread and I knew I’d been right not to have taken it. I watched him eat it and watched the crumbs fall on his shirt and I wondered if I should lean over and brush them from him. But Mum wouldn’t do that. She’d come back later when he was out of his study and discreetly sweep the carpet with a dustpan and brush. I’d do the same. He always watched the news in the lounge after supper – I’d do it then.

  He took another sip of tea and said, ‘I’ve had an idea. Want to hear it?’

  I nodded. I had no clue what he was about to say. I stopped chewing, so I’d hear every word.

  ‘Your mum’s finding it hard that you and I aren’t getting on.’

  ‘That’s what she said in the text this morning?’

  ‘The laptop-out-the-window thing freaked her out.’

  ‘She actually wrote that?’

  ‘So how about we try and get on brilliantly? We can send her regular updates and make living with us sound like a blast.’

  ‘But won’t they be back tonight?’

  He rubbed a hand across his stubble. ‘Yeah well, apparently they’ve checked into a hotel.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Your mum texted again.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  A flash of irritation crossed his face. ‘I’m telling you now.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me when I came in? Why are you telling me so casually, like it hardly matters?’

  ‘Jesus, Alexandra, give me a break.’

  His anger rippled in me. I felt it in my chest, like a wave. Don’t get angry, I thought. Be nice to him. He’s hurting too.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s just that I’ve been worried.’

  ‘And you think I haven’t?’

  He rubbed at his stubble a bit more and then picked up his cup and drained it. I watched the lump in his neck go swallow, swallow.

  I said, ‘So, she left because of us?’

  ‘It makes sense, doesn’t it? You hurl things out of windows and then give us the silent treatment at the doctor’s. I bugger off for the evening and leave your mum to cope alone.’ He put his cup back on the tray. ‘I didn’t take you to the doctor to piss you off, you know. I’m genuinely worried about your future. Are you going to revise, for instance? Are you actually going to bother at all?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘You’re an idiot if you don’t. You’re smarter than you know.’

  ‘You think I’m smart?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be trying to help you if I didn’t.’

  I stared at him. Trying to help? Was he?

  He said, ‘Oh, you can look at me as if I’m talking nonsense, but I see your brightness every day. Kass and Iris might be more obviously academic, but you’ve got something school can’t teach.’

  ‘What have I got?’

  He studied me with his head to one side, as if I mattered and was interesting to him and he wanted to tell me something true. ‘You’re a survivor. If the world was ending, you’d pull up your sleeves and get on with it. Your mum would be hysterical, Iris would hide, Kass would run. But you? You’d look it in the eye and stick it out.’

  It was the nicest thing he’d ever said to me. I said, ‘You’d survive too.’

  ‘Oh, I’d try and buy my way out, but I’m not sure credit cards work in an apocalypse.’ He chuckled. ‘I genuinely admire you, Lex. You’ll outlive all of us.’

  I had to stop myself from cheering. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to say, See! I knew I was worth something.

  ‘Hey,’ I said, ‘shall I make us supper later?’

  ‘If you want.’

  ‘I could do pasta?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  We smiled at one another as the late sun glimmered through the blinds.

  23

  I felt as wholesome as Snow White skipping around the flat tidying up. I wouldn’t have been surprised if a flock of birds had flown through a window to help. I emptied the dishwasher and restacked it with the dirty cups and plates. I wiped the tea tray and put it back in the cupboard. I even took a cloth and lemon spray to the kitchen counter and sink. I checked the fridge for anything decent for supper, but since Thursday was Mum’s supermarket day, it was bare. I Googled ‘simplest pasta recipe ever’ and discovered we had enough ingredients for a carbonara. Even I could fry some onions and fling some cheese, eggs and bacon together.

  I tried to study for a while so that John would think his talk had inspired me. I got out my biology book and read about energy and plants. I gazed out the window trying to see if I coul
d remember what I’d read without checking. I took out my chemistry book and wrote ‘Molecules’ at the top of a blank piece of paper.

  But I was too excited to concentrate. I wanted the evening to be perfect, so I began a list of tasks. I’d start to cook supper at six. I’d offer John a whisky with a single cube of ice at half past and give him a fifteen-minute warning before the food was ready, so he could wind down his work and wash his hands. It might be awkward, the two of us together at the dining table, so I’d serve supper in front of the TV. I’d clear the coffee table and give it a wipe, make sure there was a coaster for his drink and the TV remotes were to hand. I’d let him choose the channel, and if he chose the news or a political programme I wouldn’t talk or interrupt, but listen carefully in case he asked me questions afterwards.

  I took off my outdoor shoes and put on Mum’s slippers. I went around the flat taking note of how things were, so I could keep it exactly as John liked it – the alignment of the soap to the tap in his en-suite, the way the towel hung in the exact middle of the rail, the toilet paper facing outwards with one sheet hanging down. I knew these things were important because I’d seen Mum fussing over them. The lounge had to be free of any clutter – no toys or used cups, all the cushions neatly plumped. I noted that yes, the curtains were tied correctly, and that a clean ashtray was sitting next to a lighter. The carpet was supposed to be vacuumed daily, but Mum would’ve done that yesterday, so I might get away with it. She usually did that when he was out because the noise bugged him. I guess if he went out later, I could do it then.

  Next, I checked that none of the soap dispensers or toothpaste tubes were empty and wiped a cloth around the bath Iris and I shared, because even though John never went in there – what if he did tonight? I didn’t want him revolted by tidemarks. I opened doors quietly and shut them carefully as I checked things, but I occasionally made a regular noise, such as a small cough or a quiet humming, just to let John know I was about and that I wasn’t creeping around spying on him or anything bizarre. He’d once told Mum off for being too fucking quiet. I didn’t want to surprise him or make him jump or feel stupid because he forgot I was there. I didn’t want to humiliate him by catching him picking his nose or farting.

  When it was time to start cooking, I tied my hair back and put Mum’s apron on. I pretended I was a famous chef and made small and accurate movements as I got all the ingredients together. I wasn’t going to drop or break anything. I was going to make a perfect meal.

  I was frying onion and bacon in oil with plenty of black pepper when John came in and said, ‘That smells great.’ It was so easy to please him, to make him happy. Why had I never known this?

  He said, ‘I’ve had a new idea. Want to hear it?’

  ‘Sure.’ I wiped my hands on a tea towel and flapped it over one shoulder like Mum did when she cooked. I tipped the chopped garlic from the board into the olive oil and mixed it all together with a wooden spoon. To ensure the onion caramelizes, cover with oil and occasionally stir. I didn’t mind John watching. I was certain and solid and in control. Nothing was burning. I wasn’t making a fool of myself. I’d never felt so relaxed with him in the same room.

  ‘I was thinking,’ he said, ‘if we can find out which hotel they’re at, we could drive to Brighton and surprise them.’

  ‘After supper?’

  ‘Or now. We can get food there.’

  I turned with the wooden spoon in my hand to tell him he could piss off with that idea because I’d spent ages preparing, but the spoon dripped oil onto the kitchen floor and he gave a quick glance down and then back up again and he opened his mouth to have a go at me, but decided not to and closed it again, so I took a breath and swallowed my anger too. We’re both trying hard here, I thought.

  He said, ‘Your mum needs some love and attention from us. We’ve been taking her for granted.’ He sat down in the rocking chair and pressed his toes to the floor and slowly rocked. ‘It’d be fun, wouldn’t it?’

  I imagined turning up at the hotel – the surprise of it. Would it be fun? Would Mum be pleased?

  He said, ‘If you call her and get the name of the hotel, we can be there in a couple of hours. We’ll have drinks in the bar, dinner in the restaurant and stay the night. You girls can have the day off school tomorrow. It’ll be like a holiday.’

  A holiday? Maybe he was right. Maybe after dinner, we could go for a walk along the seafront in the dark. Maybe there’d be a pier with slot machines or a funfair? We’d be like a proper family. Mum might say how pleased she was to hear that me and John got along without her. ‘It’s such a relief,’ she’d say. ‘I’m so very happy. This makes all the difference to me. I feel so much better.’

  ‘Hey,’ John said, ‘if it helps you to decide – I think I know why your mum didn’t answer when you called her this morning.’

  I turned to look at him. ‘You do?’

  ‘I’d locked your phone in the safe, hadn’t I? So, she thought you didn’t have it. She thought it was me using your phone.’

  Of course! Just like Kass thinking it was Cerys calling him earlier and refusing to pick up. It wasn’t me people were avoiding.

  ‘So,’ John said, ‘why not leave her a voicemail, let her know you’ve got your phone back and ask for a chat?’ He pulled my mobile from his pocket. ‘Here you go. Don’t tell her we’re going to surprise her though, eh?’

  I did as John said and left a voicemail.

  ‘Atta girl,’ he said.

  I put my phone on the counter and went back to stirring the pan. Behind my back, I knew John was watching the phone and willing it to ring. And when it did, I was so happy that Mum hadn’t hesitated to call back when she knew it was me.

  I flung the tea towel over my shoulder again and picked up. ‘Mum?’

  ‘Lex. Oh baby, is that you?’ She sounded urgent and upset. She sounded like she was missing me. ‘I’ve been so worried. I had no way of getting in touch with you.’

  The relief of hearing her voice released something in me. ‘You could’ve left a note.’

  ‘I didn’t know I was going anywhere. Iris woke up at some ridiculous hour and I just wanted to get out of the flat. I was planning on a little drive. I didn’t mean to come all this way.’

  ‘You didn’t mean to?’ I was suddenly hot and furious. ‘No one accidentally drives to Brighton!’

  She spun me some story about a sunny morning and quiet roads and a car full of petrol. ‘Iris had a tummy ache, so wouldn’t have gone into school anyway. The seaside seemed like a good idea at the time and then I remembered you didn’t have your phone.’

  The fury built. I hadn’t realized I was mad at her. It was like I’d been holding a bunch of stones in my fist all day and now I could throw them. ‘You could’ve called school. You could’ve emailed. You could’ve given Meryam a message to pass on. Hey, you could even have turned round and come back to get me.’

  ‘Oh, Lexi, I’m sorry.’

  ‘What kind of mum takes just one of her kids away?’

  ‘Baby, I promise you’re not missing much. Right now, I’m sitting in a grotty B&B next to a boarded-up nightclub. The TV doesn’t work and there’s no room service.’

  ‘I don’t care. I’m glad it’s horrid. You shouldn’t’ve left me. Even though you’re pissed off with me, you shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘I’m not pissed off with you, Lex.’

  ‘Then why did you leave me behind?’ My eyes pricked with tears and my throat tightened. ‘I thought you were dead. If we hadn’t rung Meryam, we wouldn’t have known anything. I thought Iris was sick. I wanted John to phone the hospital.’

  I had to stop speaking because my voice was breaking up and anyway, she could piss off with her stupidity. I passed the phone to John and he gave me the kindest look, as if he really understood how it felt to be abandoned.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘so your daughter’s pretty upset here.’

  He stood by the window, looking down at the garden. I sat in the rock
ing chair and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. Last night she’d sung to me and I’d said let’s go away and not tell him where we are, and she’d done it without me.

  ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘you have to come back. We miss you. Yes, both of us – of course both of us. Christ, Georgia – if you don’t know how much I love you by now … No, babe, listen. It doesn’t matter about the hotel, never mind the money. No, listen to me.’

  But she didn’t want to. She wanted to talk. I could hear her voice, shrill and insistent in the background, and it did something to him. I saw it happen. His face flickered with fury and then a hardness slammed down.

  He said, ‘Tell me where you are. I want the name of the hotel.’

  She said stuff I couldn’t hear, but whatever it was, it made the anger build in him like a river being dammed – like all his systems got clogged with it.

  He said, ‘You know I could get an emergency court order to find out where you are? You want me to do that?’

  He said, ‘What’s wrong with you, woman? What on earth’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Normal people don’t do this,’ he said. ‘Sane people don’t behave this way. The kind of people who drag a kid away from school and run off without a word are hysterical people, who shouldn’t be left in charge of children. I’m telling you, there will be major consequences unless you get in that car right now and come home.’

  I heard her shout. ‘You don’t get to tell me what to do. You do not get to tell me.’

  ‘Let me speak to Iris.’

  She shouted some more, and he held up a hand to stop her, even though she couldn’t see it. ‘No, you can’t speak to Alexandra again. I want to talk to Iris. Put my daughter on the phone immediately.’

  But she wouldn’t. I know she wouldn’t because he called her an emotional retard and then maybe she hung up, because he growled furiously and threw my phone at the kitchen door, where it bounced and crashed to the floor in pieces. That was my phone, not his, and I wanted to yell at him, but he was standing in the middle of the kitchen clutching his head like a madman, so I walked slowly across the room and picked everything up. The case was broken, and the screen was cracked, and a strange milky light flickered where the icons used to be. I sat back in the rocking chair and cradled the pieces.