by Suzy K Quinn
‘The best-friend role is taken,’ I told Annalise. ‘By me.’
Michael laughed good-naturedly. ‘Hey, girls. It’s not a competition.’
But instinctively I knew it was. And Michael was loving every minute of it.
‘How long is she going to stay for?’ I asked, voice tight.
‘Michael, doesn’t Lorna want me here?’ Annalise asked in her pretty London boarding-school accent.
I glanced at Michael too. ‘It’s not that. I just … I wish someone had told me.’
‘Annalise will stay as long as she needs to,’ said Michael. ‘Lorna, you need to accept it.’
Annalise risked an excited glance at Michael. Then she looked around the vestibule at the plasterboard, ladders and paint cans. Even with all the mess, it was probably less chaotic than Cat’s place.
‘Is my room upstairs?’ Annalise asked.
‘Yeah, upstairs,’ said Michael. ‘Lorna – grab Annalise’s stuff, will you? Come on now. Lend a hand. Make the girl feel welcome.’
I wanted to swallow but couldn’t. My throat was tight as a drum.
Michael linked Annalise’s arm and escorted her up the stairs, leaving me with the bags. I dragged the luggage over the floor and bumped it viciously up each step, bump, bump, bump.
‘Does her mother know she’s here, Michael?’ I asked.
Michael turned to give me hard eyes. ‘No. Annalise needs a little peace and quiet from Cat.’
‘But she’s only fifteen. She shouldn’t be staying somewhere without her mother’s permission.’
Annalise grabbed Michael’s hand. ‘Age doesn’t matter. It’s just a label. Right, Michael?’
Blood rushed to my face. Those were Michael’s words, not hers. Age is just a label. When had he said them to her? He’d said things like that to me in bed, soon after I joined him on tour. Age is just a label. Marriage is just a label. Had he and Annalise been to bed together?
‘Cat’s not going to be happy when she finds out,’ I said. ‘Don’t you think it’s sort of weird? Moving in a fifteen-year-old without her mother’s permission?’
Michael’s eyes blackened. ‘If you say a word, ONE WORD about this—’
‘I didn’t say I’d tell anyone,’ I said. ‘But Cat’s going to find out eventually. You two are friends.’
‘NO ONE is going to tell Cat that Annalise is here,’ Michael boomed. ‘It’s our secret, and if you’re loyal to me, Lorna, then you keep my secrets too. Mention this to Cat and you’re out of here.’
I watched Annalise climb the stairs, holding Michael’s hand, and spots and flashes danced in my vision. ‘I loathe you,’ I told her. ‘Making big lovestruck eyes at him. You won’t take my place, do you hear me? Michael is mine. You won’t take him away from me.’
‘You’re, like, so into ownership,’ said Annalise. ‘Everyone is free. No one belongs to anyone. Michael isn’t your property.’
‘Well, if he’s not mine, he’s not yours either.’
‘Lorna, you’re being jealous and ridiculous,’ said Michael. ‘Annalise is a good friend of the family. Stop acting up.’
‘You want me to share you now?’ I said, starting to cry.
‘You’re being paranoid,’ said Michael.
I turned to Annalise. ‘How long do you need to stay here?’
‘I don’t know. Michael. How long am I staying here?’
‘As long as you like, love. Like I said. You’re practically family.’
‘But there’s hardly any space here,’ I insisted. ‘Only a few of the rooms have been finished.’
‘Annalise will stay in the room that’s just been decorated,’ said Michael.
‘The room next to yours? No way. Why does she get to be next to you and I don’t?’
Michael laughed. ‘This is silly. A room is just a room.’
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then I had a horrible realization. ‘That room has only just been decorated. You did it for her. The bedroom right next to yours. This is not just looking after her for a while. You’ve planned this. You’re moving her in.’
I stormed down the landing, throwing open the bedroom next to Michael’s. It was decorated with sickly pastel-pink bed linen and rose wallpaper. There was a huge Victorian wardrobe with mirrored doors. I had a vision of what might be inside that wardrobe: flowery dresses and crepe shoes, all bought by Michael for Annalise. His English rose.
I screamed at Annalise, ‘I won’t share him. If you go anywhere near him, I’ll kill you.’
‘Take a chill pill,’ said Annalise, shaking her head at Michael. ‘Is she always this crazy?’
Michael put an arm around her shoulder. ‘She’s had a few problems in the past. But she’ll get used to the change. And you’ll be best friends in no time.’
‘But you’re my best friend,’ Annalise laughed.
‘Well, I’m honoured. And now I’ve got an English rose to add to my collection.’
Michael and Annalise smiled at each other then, a special look, and I wanted to claw at Annalise’s face and rip the smile away.
‘What do you think this is, Michael, a girl band?’ I demanded. ‘The punk princess. The English rose?’
‘What are you talking about, Lorna?’
‘You’ve taken things too far this time.’ I felt tears sting. ‘I hardly ever see you. You’re gone half the time, and when you’re back we hardly ever talk. It’s all sex. But at least I’ve been the only girl. I’ve always had that. If Cat’s daughter stays here too, what’s left?’
‘You’re not making any sense,’ said Michael. ‘You sound crazy. Annalise needs a place to stay. Don’t make it out to be something sinister.’
‘Michael. I can’t handle this. I just can’t. It’s too much.’
‘I treat you like a princess. Everything you could possibly wish for.’
‘But bringing another girl to live with us?’ I chewed at my nails. ‘Michael, I’m at my limit. I swear to you.’
‘Jesus,’ said Michael. ‘Calm down, Lorna. You know how I feel about hysterical women. I’d have stayed with Diane if I wanted hysterics.’
‘You’re still married. You still do photoshoots with your wife. This house.’ I gestured to the plasterboard piled up against a wall. ‘It’s still a dust cloud because you’re different, you don’t do things like other people. And I just have to put up with it. Because I’m not important enough to renovate your house for. I put up with all of it, Michael. Everything. Because I love you. But this is too much.’ I started pacing back and forth.
‘A million girls—’
‘Would be grateful to live with you. I know. But only if they’re the only girl living with you. Isn’t that what you always tell me when you’ve been gone for weeks? That I’m your special girl, your only girl, the only one who lives in your big fancy house? Just me?’
‘Lorna, you’re being selfish.’
‘Michael, she can’t have that room,’ I said. ‘She can’t have the nearest room to you. It’s not right. I’m your girlfriend.’
Michael’s eyes darkened. ‘Lorna. Don’t throw those labels around. You don’t own me and I don’t own you. This is my house. I make the decisions. I’m not going to put her up in a room with bare boards and plaster dust.’
‘But Michael—’
‘Wait for me in the lounge.’
‘Michael—’
‘Now.’
When Michael came down to the lounge twenty minutes later, his eyes were dark and his shoulders hunched.
Without a word, he punched me in the eye and I fell to the floor.
‘You don’t question me,’ he said. ‘Ever. Not in my house.’
The punching was so normal by then that I just lay there without complaint. He’d knocked me down plenty of times by then. One punch was nothing.
‘Christ, Lorna,’ said Michael, stalking back and forth. ‘Why can’t you just be normal?’
Eventually I got to my feet, rubbing my cheek. ‘Have you slept with her?
’
‘What are you talking about, Lorna? No, I haven’t slept with her. She’s fifteen, for God’s sake. How could you even think that?’
‘Just promise me you won’t sleep with her, Michael. Promise me.’
‘You’re being jealous and paranoid, Lorna. Where’s my fun girl gone, huh? You’re turning into a nag. A few more months and you’ll be just like Diane.’
I started to cry, turning away from him. ‘Well, what do you expect me to think when you move another girl in here?’
‘Come here.’ Michael pulled me into a hug. ‘You’re my one and all. Okay? Annalise won’t stay here long.’ He tapped me on the head. ‘That pretty little brain of yours. Thinking too much as always. Don’t make this out to be more than it is, okay? It’s just a few days.’ He looked right at me then, eyes sincere. ‘You know who I am, Lorna. I’m not perfect. Maybe I’m not even that good some of the time. But you know who I am. A man who loves you very much. Listen – I get angry because I care. I’m scared, you know? Just a scared little boy at heart. Scared you’ll stop loving me. I don’t mean to show it with my fists. It’s just how I was brought up. Tell me you love me. Tell me you love me and you’ll never leave me.’
I started crying. ‘Of course I love you.’
‘Hey.’ Michael squeezed me tight. ‘I’m one of the good guys. I have a big heart. Too big a heart, letting Cat’s daughter come to stay. But what could I do? We can’t let her be out on the street, can we?’
‘No. I guess not. It’ll just be a few days, right?’
‘Just a few days.’
Lorna
I’m standing on a swivel chair in Liberty’s bedroom, pulling climbing ropes from the top shelf of her wardrobe.
Darcy is toddling around the room, sticking more Post-it notes on things.
Guitar. Poster. Desk.
Being in my daughter’s room, with the Suzi Quatro and Jean Seberg posters on the wall, arthouse French movie DVDs lined up in alphabetical order on the wardrobe shelf, it’s tearing my heart out.
‘Lorna.’ Nick is in the doorway, his body covered in Darcy’s Post-it notes. ‘I’m still not getting this. You think Michael sent you this book.’ He holds The Tales of Hans Christian Andersen, frowning as he flips pages. ‘And it’s some kind of message?’
Abdomen. Forehead. Left buttock.
Dee is beside Nick, also covered in Post-it notes.
Neck. Shoulder. Stomach – big.
‘Of course it’s a message,’ I say. ‘There was a slip of paper in the book.’
‘Maybe it was your slip of paper,’ says Dee. ‘From years ago. You used to do that. Make bookmarks out of whatever was close to hand. Maybe Michael’s just returning your property to you. Sort of like saying, good riddance.’
‘No. The paper is too new. And there are highlights.’
‘You used to make highlights.’
‘The parts about sacrifice? Why would I highlight that?’
‘You were very dramatic as a teenager,’ said Dee. ‘You used to gravitate towards misery.’
‘Why can’t you two see it?’ The chair turns under me, nearly throwing me off. ‘Michael made those highlights. He wants me to go back. Diane is gone now. She’s taking a flight somewhere. Cat told me. Now she’s out the way, Michael wants me to take Liberty’s place. He thinks I’m still the same meek, mild idiot he knew all those years ago. That I’ll just walk in and do whatever he wants. The gates will be open now. He’ll be waiting for me.’
‘So why the climbing rope?’ says Dee, helping Darcy stick a Post-it note on her chest.
Left breast.
‘You never know with Michael,’ I say. ‘I want to be prepared. Everything’s always slippery. But one way or another, I’m going to end this today and bring Liberty home.’
‘Jesus, Lorna,’ says Nick. ‘This is all sounding a bit vigilante.’
I climb down from the chair with Liberty’s climbing rope and shoes. ‘Don’t you get it? Michael has made a trap. He’s a control freak. If I don’t do what he wants, he’ll hurt my daughter.’ I put a hand to my mouth, emotion suddenly overwhelming me. ‘And the police will do nothing. Liberty has run away from home.’
‘Has she?’ says Dee. ‘It seems to me she’s facing things. Maybe it’s you who’s running away, with all these high fences and gates. I mean, look at this place. It’s Fort Knox. This is running, Lorna. Liberty’s tackling everything head on. And she’ll be just fine.’
‘No. She won’t be.’
‘Liberty is clever,’ says Dee. ‘She can work out fact from fiction.’
‘She’s no match for him.’
‘Are you sure?’ says Dee. ‘Because the last time I checked, Liberty was a girl genius. All those sudoku and chess challenges she does on Facebook … she’s like lightning.’
‘I don’t know what she does on Facebook,’ I admit. ‘She blocked me.’
‘How come?’
‘I sent a few messages, you know. Telling some of her classmates that Liberty wasn’t allowed out in the evenings. Just in case they got the wrong idea.’
Dee raises an eyebrow. ‘All those human rights marches you used to go on. Now you’re a Nazi dictator.’
‘Can you blame me?’
‘Yes, I can blame you,’ says Dee. ‘I blame you for this whole thing. If you hadn’t kept Liberty locked up, she’d never have run away.’
‘But I’m her parent,’ I say. ‘It’s my job to keep her safe.’
‘Where’d you hear that?’ says Dee. ‘Some 1950s parenting manual? Liberty’s not a child. She’s a sixteen-year-old whose mother is stalking her Facebook profile and harassing her friends. She’s been locked behind these high gates most of her life and it still happened. The thing you were most afraid of. Maybe it’s not about keeping Liberty safe from her father. Maybe it’s about empowering her to look after herself.’
‘Liberty’s been away all night and now most of the day. The police will do nothing.’
‘What can they do?’ says Dee. ‘No crime has been committed.’
‘Are you seriously saying that to me?’ I demand. ‘You were there. You know what he did.’
‘I wasn’t there, Lorna,’ says Dee. ‘I know Michael was controlling and you were too vulnerable to stand up to him. That’s the only thing I know for sure.’
‘You don’t believe me about Annalise?’ I say. ‘Is that what you’re telling me?’
‘I believe … something really bad happened that night. And seeing Michael, yes, I know he has a temper. For sure.’
‘Okay.’ Nick takes a step back. ‘This is all sounding way too paranoid. Does anyone want a cup of tea? Or an omelette?’
‘No, Nick, no one wants an omelette. Michael sent me this book. You think he did that for no reason? He’s telling me to come back. To sacrifice myself for Liberty.’
‘You get that from a couple of highlights?’ says Dee. ‘Highlights you might have made yourself? What if you’re wrong? You’ll be committing a criminal offence, going back there.’
‘Dee’s right,’ says Nick. ‘If you go back to his house and start trying to climb over the gate or something, the police will arrest you. And then what? You’ll be stuck in a cell, maybe overnight. What use will you be to Liberty then? Sit tight. You have to wait. Maybe I should go there, Lorna. I’m sure if Michael understands how upset you are—’
‘That’s very sweet of you, Nick, but forget it,’ I say. ‘Michael will play you like a fiddle. You won’t stand a chance. You’d just come back telling me what a great guy he is.’
‘I’d never do that. I like my balls where they are.’
Dee snorts with amusement and I glare at both of them.
‘I’m going back there,’ I say. ‘Neither of you are getting it. The police won’t be there this time. Michael’s as good as told me to come back. I lived with him for a long time. I know how he works. If I don’t do what he wants …’ I close my eyes and take deep breaths. ‘Oh God, I hope Liberty is okay. Please let her be okay.
’
‘She’ll be okay,’ says Dee. ‘She loves you and you love her. Just be patient. I know this is torture, but she has to come home sometime.’
I shake my head. ‘Michael’s not going to let her just leave. He has his prize. A way to hurt me. Do you think he’s going to let that prize walk out of the door?’
‘What are you saying?’
‘The only way Liberty is leaving is if I make out like I’ll trade places.’ I loop climbing rope over my shoulder, pushing past Nick and running down stairs two steps at a time.
‘This is idiotic,’ calls Dee over the banisters. ‘You’ll just get arrested. What exactly do you plan to do at Michael’s house anyway? Beat him up?’
‘Do exactly what Michael wants.’
Or at least pretend to.
Neither Nick nor Dee know about the samurai steel kitchen knife inside my jacket.
Liberty
I watch my DM boots squash leaves and flatten twigs as Michael and I head through his private woodland. It’s afternoon now, and the air is warm around the feathery fir trees. Bright blue sky frames the main house up ahead.
I sense Michael’s eyes on me.
‘Michael,’ I say. ‘I think I know who my real mother is.’
Michael slows, his shoulders stiffening. ‘Let’s have some lunch before we start down that road. I haven’t given you so much as a snack in hours. I’ve been a terrible father. I can’t have my little girl not eating.’
‘I’m not sure I can eat right now, truthfully.’
‘Well, that little pooch of yours will want something, won’t he? Come on. Back to the house with you.’ He quickens his pace.
Skywalker trots behind us, a good pack member following his leader. I can tell he wants to explore everything, and sometimes he sneaks a little sniff of a tree or the ground.
The trees thin out and bright sunshine struggles onto the woodland floor. We turn a corner and the turreted main house appears ahead of us, magnificently fake and multicoloured.
I stride to catch up with Michael. ‘So about my real mother…’
Michael slows again then, rubbing at his craggy face. ‘Yeah?’