Tangled Secrets

by Anne-Marie Conway

  “Horrible,” I said, without hesitating. “Everyone hates him. That’s why I’m not going back to the group.”

  “Has he ever done anything horrible to you?”

  I nodded, thinking of the drum roll, the way he was always winding me up, calling me Maddie Mouse.

  “He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

  “No, nothing like that. He’s just a pain.”

  Mum turned back to face me, her head tipped to one side. “Lots of people are a pain, Maddie. I don’t honestly think that’s a reason to stop going to the nurture group. I mean you could look at it in a completely different way…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you need some help coming to terms with losing your nan, and perhaps Kieran needs some help fitting in to Church Vale, learning how to make friends?”

  “Mum!” I said, getting annoyed. “You sound like a counsellor now. You don’t know what he’s like – he’s a nightmare! And anyway, no one can help me come to terms with losing Nan. Not Vivian or you or anyone. You weren’t there when it happened. You don’t know what that was like either. I’ll never come to terms with it and there’s nothing you can do to make me!”

  Mum opened her mouth to say something but just at that moment the phone rang. We both froze, our eyes locked across the room.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” she said, picking up the phone. “I haven’t finished with you. I’m sorry, Mads, but I’m not letting this go.”

  As soon as Mum started speaking I realized it was Sharon, the woman who’d rung up for Dad last week after school. I could only hear Mum’s side of the conversation, but it was exactly the same conversation she’d had with me. Mum wrote down the number and said goodbye, and then she just stood there with a puzzled look on her face, as if she was trying to work out a really difficult sum in her head.

  I edged towards the door, pleased for the chance to escape.

  Mum glanced up at me.

  “Hang on a minute, Maddie,” she said before I could slip away. “I wasn’t joking. I want you to carry on with the nurture group and that’s my final word on the subject.”

  “Okay,” I said, but with my fingers crossed tightly behind my back. There was no way I was going to the next session however much she wanted me to, and that was my final word on the subject.

  Chapter 6

  Mum didn’t mention Sharon or the phone call again until the following evening. Charlie was in the garden kicking the ball against the wall and Mum and I were in the kitchen tiptoeing around each other, both of us avoiding the subject of the nurture group in case it sparked off another row.

  “There’s only three of us tonight,” she said, just as I finished laying the table. “Sorry, Mads, I forgot to say, Dad’s not coming home.”

  “What do you mean? Where is he?”

  “He’s gone to meet Sharon,” said Mum. “She rang up for him yesterday, remember? Call Charlie in, would you, love, I don’t want him overdoing it. Dinner’s ready anyway and I’m trying out a new recipe.”

  Charlie came crashing in from the garden, hot and sweaty, muttering something about his shots and how much better they were getting. He’d been outside every spare minute since the football letters went out, determined to get picked for the next match. He said Mr Maddox was always swapping the team around, trying out new players.

  “So who is this Sharon then?” I asked as soon as we were all sitting down. “I thought Dad said he didn’t know anyone called Sharon when she called the first time?”

  “Oh, she’s just someone he used to go out with years and years ago.”

  “Wowee, sexy!” said Charlie, pulling a funny face and jiggling his eyebrows up and down.

  Mum burst out laughing. “Don’t be daft! It’s not like that now. They’re just old friends.”

  She was trying to sound casual, too casual, as if it was no big deal.

  “But I don’t understand,” I said. “How can they be old friends if he said he didn’t even know her? How can you just forget a friend? And Dad hardly ever goes out in the week by himself; he always says he’d much rather be home with us…”

  “Maddie, stop going on, will you? I feel like I’m being cross-examined. Dad rang her back yesterday evening, and as soon as he spoke to her he realized who she was. It’s difficult to remember sometimes after so many years. Anyway, she said she needed to talk to him about something, so he’s gone to meet her for a quick drink and that’s it. Now no more questions, okay?”

  “Can I just ask you something, Mum?” said Charlie. “Why are there pears in my chicken?”

  Dad didn’t get back until really late. His quick drink must’ve turned into a very slow one. I lay in bed, wide awake, trying to imagine him and Sharon in the pub together, chatting about old times. She was probably tall and blonde, with long eyelashes and loads of make-up. The exact opposite of Mum.

  As soon as I heard his key in the door I crept out of bed and stood at the top of the stairs, my ribbon clutched tight in my hand.

  “What are you doing awake?” he whispered as he came up.

  He looked strange in the dim glow of the hall light; his eyes were red and puffy. I twisted my ribbon round and round my finger, wondering if he’d been crying. I’d never seen Dad cry before, not even at Nan’s funeral.

  “I’m sorry, I just wanted to say goodnight. I couldn’t sleep.”

  He wrapped his arms round me and held me close.

  “You missed chicken-and-pear bake,” I said into his chest. “Charlie nearly threw up.”

  Dad laughed quietly, holding me even tighter. “Don’t ever forget how much I love you, Maddie Wilkins,” he said.

  “Why would I forget? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing’s the matter, sweetheart. It’s just sometimes you realize how lucky you are. Now off to bed. You’ll be shattered in the morning.” He kissed the top of my head. “Go on, it’s nearly midnight.”

  I lay in bed listening to him and Mum talk through my bedroom wall. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I figured it had to be about Sharon. My tummy was in knots trying to work out what it could all mean. Why had she bothered to get in touch with Dad after so many years? And why had he come home in such a strange mood?

  He seemed to be fine in the morning; his eyes weren’t red or puffy any more, he just looked totally worn out. He promised Charlie he’d be home in time to do some football practice, grabbed a slice of toast and went straight outside to get his tools ready for work.

  “Is Dad okay?” I asked Mum as soon as he’d left the room.

  “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t he be?”

  “It’s just he got back really late and—”

  “I know, Maddie Wilkins,” she interrupted, turning to face me, her hands on her hips. “And I also happen to know you were still up and out of your room. How on earth do you expect to start concentrating at school if you never get to sleep at a normal time? Honestly, Mads, Dad’s fine – everything’s fine – so there’s absolutely nothing for you to worry about!”

  It was the first rounders session after school. I was praying Gemma might forget or change her mind but as soon as the bell rang at the end of the day she dragged me off to get changed. I’d lied to her about never playing before; we used to play at primary school and I was okay. I just couldn’t face joining in with anything at the moment.

  Mr Skinner was waiting for us on the field, setting up the bases. There were about twenty other Year Eights, but no sign of Kieran Black – thank goodness. I sat right at the side while Mr Skinner went through the rules a couple of times and then divided us into teams. I nearly said I was only there to watch, but I didn’t want to risk upsetting Gemma again, not after the other day.

  Our team was batting first, so we got in line with the others, as near to the back as we could, and then sat on the grass waiting for our turn. A girl called Annika was at the front. She looked really sporty – short shorts, tight T-shirt, expensive trainers, but the ball flew straight past her be
fore she could even lift the bat.

  “Oh my god! I’m rubbish!” she squealed and burst out laughing, half skipping, half running to first base, flapping her arms around like a bird. A few of the others groaned and rolled their eyes but she didn’t seem to be bothered.

  “Keep your eye on the ball, Annika,” Mr Skinner called out. “And don’t forget to drop the bat!”

  Annika chucked the bat back and the next person on our team went up. It was Nathan, the boy Gemma had pointed out to me in the canteen the other day. He turned to give us all a thumbs up and someone shouted, “Come on, Nate!” It was obvious he knew what he was doing. He pulled his arm back and whacked the ball so far he was able to run all the way round the four bases with time to spare, scoring the first rounder. We all cheered and a few of our team went over to high-five him.

  “I’ll never be able to hit it,” muttered Gemma. “I’m useless at ball games.”

  “Why did you want to come then? It was your idea!”

  She blushed bright red. “I know, I know, I just wanted to do something apart from studying all the time.”

  Finally it was her turn. She slipped her glasses off, flicked her plaits over her shoulders and raised the bat, ready.

  “Good luck,” I said. “Keep your eye on the ball!”

  She blinked a few times squinting into the sun and then raised her hand up to shield her eyes as the ball sailed straight past her. “Oh no! What do I do now?” she cried, dropping the bat and then picking it up, and then dropping it again. The fielders burst out laughing which gave her the chance to run. She looked back at me from first base, crossing her fingers for luck as I went up to bat next.

  The field looked huge suddenly. I tried not to think of everyone watching me, waiting to see if I was any good. My heart began to speed up. It was just like the other day when Miss Owen asked me to read out my autobiography. I had an overwhelming urge to run away and hide but it was as if someone had cemented my feet to the ground.

  Larissa Morris from our form was bowling. I squinted across the grass, past her and the other fielders, through the glaring sunlight, and just for a split second, where the field ends and the sycamore trees begin, I thought I could make out Nan. Not in a scary way. Not like a proper, solid person – just the shape of her: a rough, smudgy outline like one of my sketches.

  A warm feeling flooded my belly, like the sun was inside me, and even though it was too far away to see her face I knew she was smiling. I shut everything else out, squashed down my anxiety and focused on the ball as it came hurtling through the air towards me. There was a loud crack and Larissa ducked down as it flew over her head and deep into the field.

  “Run!” I shouted to Gemma as I dropped the bat and took off towards first base.

  “Don’t stop!” yelled Nate, as I raced round, past first and on to second.

  I only managed to get as far as third base before the fielders got the ball and threw it to Larissa, but it felt amazing. I couldn’t believe it. I’d hit the ball! But not only that – I’d shouted “run” in front of all the others without even thinking.

  I glanced back at the row of sycamore trees, searching for the smudgy outline through the glare of the sun, but there was nothing there.

  “Well done, Maddie!” Mr Skinner called out. “Great hit!”

  And then everyone was looking at Abdul, the next person up to bat, and I turned towards fourth base, a massive grin on my face, ready to run again.

  “You were brilliant!” said Gemma when I got back to her. “Why didn’t you tell me how good you were? I thought you’d never played rounders before?”

  Just then Nathan came over to talk to us about fielding. Gemma went bright red again, stammering something about her weak wrists and not being very good at catching.

  “No worries,” he said. “I’ll be bowling so just keep your eye on the ball and pass it back to me as soon as you get it.”

  She stared up at him, nodding, as if he’d just explained the meaning of life and I wondered if she liked him, if that was the real reason she’d been so keen for us to join. I almost asked her, but I thought she might be embarrassed if I just blurted it out – we’ve never really talked about boys before, not about liking them.

  The other team scored three-and-a-half rounders and then it was our turn to bat again. We were easily better than them and the final score was 10–6 to us; mostly thanks to Nathan. Gemma talked about him all the way down Banner Road, about how good he was at batting and how fast he could run, and how pleased she was that we’d joined.

  She thanked me at least a million times for agreeing to come and said she couldn’t wait for next Wednesday.

  “Seven days, Maddie,” she sighed, as if it was seven years.

  But I was looking forward to it too. I’d got so caught up in the game after my first go at batting I’d hardly thought about anything except throwing and catching and hitting and running for a whole hour.

  Chapter 7

  I spotted Dad’s van as soon as I turned into our road: bright blue with Wilkins Electrical Services splashed across the side. It was weird to see it parked outside the house so early. Dad’s never usually home before six. His final job of the day must’ve been cancelled – either that or something was wrong.

  I let myself in and called out, but the house felt empty. He wasn’t in the kitchen or the lounge. I dropped my bag and raced upstairs calling out again, my tummy starting to churn. Why was his van outside if he wasn’t in? Where else could he be? It didn’t make any sense. At the top of the stairs I noticed a narrow shaft of light shining down from the trapdoor to the attic.

  We hardly ever use our attic for anything except storing junk. Mum always says she can’t face going up there because she knows what a terrible mess it’s in. I climbed the old, rickety ladder and pulled myself up through the hole in the ceiling. It was dark and gloomy, difficult to see through the dust even with the light switched on.

  Dad was sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by a load of old photo albums.

  “Maddie!” He jumped slightly and started to gather the albums up as if I’d caught him doing something wrong. “You startled me. I didn’t realize you were back…”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I called up.”

  “Sorry, love, I was miles away.”

  He looked exhausted, as if he was coming down with something. I used to think my dad was invincible, like a superhero; that nothing could ever happen to him, but not any more. I picked my way across the bare floorboards and kneeled down in front of him. “How come you’re home so early? What are you doing?”

  “Nothing really. Just sorting through a few of these old photos. It’s difficult to stop once you start – so many memories…”

  There was a small pile of photos on the floor. I picked it up and had a quick look through the pictures as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. The first one was of me, Charlie and Nan at the Natural History Museum. We’re standing in front of this huge T. rex, both of us clutching hold of Nan’s hands as if we’re scared it might actually come to life behind us.

  There was another one of me and Charlie on our own. I must’ve been about six and Charlie two. He’s sitting on my lap and I’ve got my arms wrapped around him, holding him in place. I can’t believe how small he looks; he’s got a dummy in his mouth and he’s wearing a blue and white striped sleepsuit, the sort you wear when you’re a tiny baby.

  I glanced up at Dad. “Why have you taken these out of the albums? Is it…is it because of Nan?”

  Dad looked at me, confused, as if I was speaking a different language. I carried on, flustered. “I mean were you looking for some old photos of Nan? Is that why you came up here?”

  Dad’s hardly mentioned Nan at all since she died – not to me in any case – almost as if he buried all his memories of her on the day of the funeral.

  I wondered how he’d react if I told him about rounders, about seeing her by the sycamore trees – how she’d helped me whack the ball across the field. H
e’d probably make a big joke out of it; say it sounded as if I’d had a whack to my head, never mind the ball. Sometimes I wonder if he even thinks about her any more.

  “Look at this one,” he said, handing me another photo. It was Nan blowing out the candles on her sixtieth birthday. She’s leaning down and the glow from the tiny flames has made a kind of golden halo around her head. Charlie’s standing next to her with a plate in his hand, ready to grab the first slice. I remember Nan laughing about the number of candles and how there wouldn’t be enough room on the cake if she made it to seventy.

  “Can we put this up somewhere? We could get a nice frame for it.”

  “Of course we can, and some of these as well,” he said, holding his hand out for the rest of the photos. “I can’t see the point of them gathering dust up here where no one can see them.” He shoved the albums back in a box and pulled me up. “Come on, let’s go down. Mum and Charlie will be back any second and I could murder a cup of tea.”

  It was brilliant having Dad home early. He played football with Charlie in the garden and then sat with me for ages while I struggled through my maths homework; one simultaneous equation after another. I couldn’t remember ever finding maths so difficult before – it was like someone had mixed up all the wires in my brain. I could tell Dad was surprised; he didn’t say anything but I caught him looking over my head at Mum a few times.

  But then, right before dinner, Dad said he was just nipping out, grabbed his jacket and disappeared. When I asked Mum about it, she said he was meeting Sharon again, but she didn’t laugh this time, not even when Charlie started to jiggle his eyebrows. Apparently Sharon needed Dad’s help with something but Mum couldn’t discuss it with us because it was grown-up stuff and we wouldn’t understand.

  I hate it when she says that, as if Charlie and I are the same age. He might be too young but why couldn’t she tell me what was going on? I watched her carefully all through dinner, trying to work out if she was upset or worried, but she hardly said a word. As soon as we’d finished eating and everything was cleared away, she sent us both up to bed.