by Gwyneth Rees
Bella just grunted and reached out to turn off the light.
‘So why do you think Dad got expelled from school?’ I whispered into the semi-darkness.
‘Who cares?’ she muttered.
‘But don’t you think it’s really weird that we never heard about it before?’
‘It’s not that big a deal, Libby. Now shut up. I’m going to sleep.’
‘But I was only saying –’
‘Well, don’t!’ She pulled the covers over her head, grumbling about what a pain it was having to share a room with me.
I suddenly thought of something. ‘Bella, is your period due?’ Mum always seems to know when Bella’s period is due just by how moody she’s being. Mum says all those extra hormones don’t only give you spots and greasy hair – they can also give you a really bad temper.
Unfortunately, instead of appreciating my insight Bella made a strangled noise like a wild animal being physically restrained from killing someone. ‘Just because I don’t want to answer your dumb questions, Libby, it doesn’t mean I’m pre-menstrual!’ she yelled. ‘God, you’re even worse than Mum!’
I decided not to risk talking to her again after that.
The following morning I woke to hear arguing coming from downstairs. It sounded like Mum and Bella were having a massive row. I had a shower and quickly went back into our bedroom to get dressed. By the time I went downstairs, Dad was in the bathroom and Mum and Grace had gone out. Grace had been complaining that Mum never spends any time with her since we moved, and even though that’s not true, Mum had felt so guilty she’d promised to devote the whole of her day off to a Grace-and-Mummy expedition. I have to admit I felt a bit cross about the way she could wrap Mum around her little finger like that. I mean, I can’t even remember the last time Mum and I did anything special together and you don’t see me making all that fuss about it.
Bella was lying on the sofa, still in her pyjamas, a hot-water bottle pressed against her belly. She looked cross. As soon as she saw me she snapped, ‘Don’t you start!’ even though I hadn’t so much as opened my mouth.
‘Why were you and Mum yelling?’ I asked.
‘She took away my phone! She was yacking on and asking me stuff while I was trying to text, and then she got all huffy cos I wasn’t listening, so she grabbed it off me. Says I should be “resting” until the cramps stop.’
‘I expect she’s just trying to help,’ I ventured tentatively.
‘What do you know about it?’ she snapped.
I left her lying there watching TV and went into the kitchen to fix myself breakfast.
Bella has always suffered with period pain, though it’s been a lot better since she got some stronger painkillers from the doctor. I have to say that the prospect of starting my own periods scares me a bit, even though Mum says most girls don’t have as much of a problem as Bella. Some of the girls in my class had started by the end of Year Seven, and Mum says she doesn’t think it will be long before mine start too. Whoopee – not!
The doorbell rang just as I was pouring milk on to my cereal. Since Dad was still in the bathroom – probably sitting on the loo reading a newspaper with no intention of emerging anytime soon – I put down my cereal bowl with a bit of a thud and went to see who was there.
I opened the front door to find nobody. Sticking my head out to have a proper look I heard a whistle to my left, and when I looked down the road a bit further I could see Sam standing there. I quickly put the door on the latch and ran down the road to meet him. Close up I thought his face seemed thinner than usual and he had dark circles under his eyes.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked him.
‘I need to speak to Bella. She hasn’t answered the texts just sent.’
‘Mum took away her phone. She isn’t dressed yet. She’s not feeling very well.’
His immediate look of concern was quite sweet. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘She … umm … well, she’s got her … you know …’ I had difficulty telling him without blushing.
Fortunately Sam seemed to get my meaning. ‘Oh right …’ he murmured. I doubted Bella talked about her periods much to him, but then again, I had no idea what sort of stuff almost-sixteen-year-old girls talked to their seventeen-year-old boyfriends about. I can’t even imagine having a boyfriend myself, though I’ve had a few fantasy versions over the last couple of years (one of them is an actor in a TV show I really like, and another is the seriously cute drummer in my favourite boy band).
‘OK, well, I came to tell her I have a job – at least for a couple of weeks. The bloke at the garage down the road needs somebody to help him while his apprentice is off sick.’
I immediately perked up. ‘Oh, Sam, that’s great.’
‘Yeah, it doesn’t pay loads but it’s enough to go back to the B & B if I want. It’s OK at the cottage for now, so I’ll save my money and stay on there until the neighbours come back.’
‘So long as you’re careful not to get caught,’ I said, because I still wasn’t very happy about the risk he was taking. ‘Bella will be really pleased when I tell her about the job,’ I added. ‘Well done, Sam.’
He grinned. ‘Thank you, Libby. Tell Bella to text me when she gets her phone back.’ He left with a cheery wave.
For the next few days nothing much happened. Mum was at work a lot, Dad worked on his computer at home and Grace spent a lot of time drawing and painting at Aunt Thecla’s house.
But then one morning when Bella and I were home alone (Dad was out meeting a new client) the phone started ringing.
I picked up to hear Aunt Thecla’s voice at the other end sounding distraught. ‘Libby? Has Grace come home?’
‘No. Why? Isn’t she with you?’
‘She was but we’ve had an argument. I can’t find her, and I’m not sure if she’s hiding in the house somewhere or if she’s gone outside.’
‘She knows she’s not allowed outside on her own. She’s probably hiding. Do you want us to come over and help you look?’
‘That might be a good idea. If she hears you she might come out.’
I started to ask what it was they’d argued about, but she promptly hung up.
In Aunt Thecla’s kitchen there was evidence of Grace’s recent art lesson. Pastel crayons and sheets of paper were still lying on the table and the new art smock our aunt had bought for her was lying abandoned on top of a stool.
‘So what did you row about?’ Bella asked immediately.
Aunt Thecla turned and picked up a tin from the work surface behind her. ‘This! Fifty pounds is missing from my money tin.’
I instantly felt queasy. Despite my nagging, Bella still hadn’t replaced the money she’d taken. I looked at her to see what she would say.
Bella looked decidedly uncomfortable but I don’t think Aunt Thecla noticed. Our aunt isn’t always good at reading people’s body language or guessing how they’re feeling. Most of the time that makes life more difficult but just occasionally it can come in handy.
‘Are you sure?’ Bella asked, carefully avoiding any eye contact with either me or our aunt.
‘Of course I’m sure. I took the tin down this morning to check it. There’s only half the amount that there should be! Grace is the only one who’s been in my kitchen recently, so I asked her if she’d taken it. She said no, so I said I would be checking her pockets and asking your parents to search her room at home, so she had better own up at once if she was lying. And that’s when she burst into tears and started throwing crayons on the floor. I never knew she had such a temper!’
‘Well, you shouldn’t have accused her of stealing!’ I snapped before I could stop myself. ‘No wonder she’s upset!’
‘Grace would never steal anything!’ Bella chipped in, just as hotly.
But instead of backing down Aunt Thecla promptly reminded us of the time a couple of years back when she’d gone to the supermarket at Christmastime with Grace, who had managed to hide a little gold-foiled chocolate teddy bear
in her pocket without being spotted. Aunt Thecla hadn’t discovered it until she got home and had been far too mortified to take it back, and by the time Dad got home Mum had already let Grace eat it. (In fact, Mum seemed to view Grace’s shoplifting episode as some sort of major achievement, worthy of recounting as a funny story for ages afterwards to all our friends and family.)
‘She was only four then and it’s not the same,’ I protested. ‘It’s not like she’s ever stolen anything since.’
‘Well, someone must have taken my money,’ Aunt Thecla persisted crossly. ‘And since Grace is the one who’s been here the most I thought it a reasonable assumption. Anyway … I merely asked her. I didn’t accuse her.’
‘You threatened to search her room!’ I scoffed. ‘You’re basically talking about frisking her before she leaves! Of course you’re accusing her, Aunt Thecla!’
I turned to Bella, expecting her to agree with me, but to my annoyance she’d left the kitchen. I could hear her on the stairs calling out Grace’s name.
Just as I was considering telling Aunt Thecla the truth – or at least a version of it that would prove Grace’s innocence – Bella yelled down, ‘I think she’s in your art room, Aunt Thecla! The door’s open!’
‘What? She knows she’s not allowed in there!’ She set off up the two flights of stairs to the top of the house at a much faster pace than usual.
‘I think you must have left the key in the lock,’ Bella said as we caught her up outside the attic room. ‘I’ve just looked inside and she’s definitely there.’ For some reason she was grinning slyly. ‘Cool paintings, Aunt Thecla.’
‘Wait here,’ she snapped.
But we both ignored that instruction and followed her into the room. I was really curious to see inside for the first time.
Straight away we found Grace curled up under a table against the wall, a massive pout on her face. On top of the table were various paint pots and jars of dirty water with brushes in them, plus a couple of half-empty mugs of tea and some rough unfinished paintings. ‘Grace!’ Aunt Thecla scolded her at once. ‘You know you’re not allowed in here. I hope you haven’t touched any of my work.’
‘If you can call it work,’ Bella whispered in my ear. ‘I mean, just because you’ve got an art studio in your house it doesn’t make you a professional artist, does it?’
I didn’t reply. To be fair, I don’t remember Aunt Thecla ever referring to herself as a professional, although I suppose the way she acts tends to give that impression. For instance she calls any time she spends in her attic studio ‘working’, and she talks as if it’s only a matter of time before she starts to sell her paintings.
‘Oh wow! It’s Hughie!’ I exclaimed as I took in the half-finished painting on an easel by the window. There was a photograph of him clipped to the top-left corner of the paper. I could already tell it was going to be one of her better pieces.
My gaze drifted around the walls on which were displayed lots of Aunt Thecla’s work. There were several paintings done in some weird abstract style on one wall and on another there was nothing but paintings and sketches of nudes. They were actually very good – if a bit embarrassing to view with my aunt watching.
‘I did those at an art class a long time ago,’ she said, seeing me staring at them.
‘Oh yeah? What about that one?’ Bella asked, pointing with a grin at a much larger painting of a young man standing in a field of bluebells. It was by far the best painting in the room and the only one in a frame. The subject of the picture wore only a red sarong tied around his waist and stood with his back to the artist. His upper body was tanned and muscular and he had curly shoulder-length blond hair.
‘Is that a sexy back or what?’ Bella commented cheekily. ‘So was he your boyfriend, Aunt Thecla?’
She hesitated for just a moment too long before saying, ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Bella.’
I looked again at the picture, taking in the blond curly hair, the slim muscular body. Wait a minute … Surely this couldn’t be …?
Aunt Thecla’s face was pink and she looked away from us as she added, ‘Now, out of here, all of you. Grace – that includes you! Get out from under that table AT ONCE!’
Grace jumped when our aunt shouted and in her scramble to escape she banged her head on the table, sending a jam jar full of dirty water and brushes crashing on to the floor.
‘Get OUT!’ Aunt Thecla screamed at us, and as she rushed to rescue everything we raced downstairs and out through the front door as fast as we could.
Chapter Seventeen
As soon as we got home Grace started to whine about how she wanted Mum. Sometimes if she’s really upset Mum will have a quick chat with her on the phone in between patients, but neither Bella nor I wanted to ring Mum until we’d had a bit more time to think about what to say. The last thing we wanted was for the truth to come out about Aunt Thecla’s missing money.
‘I don’t think we should distract Mummy at work, Grace,’ I pointed out.
‘She won’t mind,’ Grace said stubbornly.
‘She will if she pulls out the wrong tooth!’ Bella snapped.
Suddenly we heard the front door opening. It was Dad. Bella and I looked at each other in alarm. His meeting must have finished early.
‘Daddy!’ Grace squealed, rushing up to him and flinging herself into his arms. ‘Daddy, Aunt Thecla was really mean to me!’ And she burst into tears.
Unfortunately Dad always responds well to a show of fierce clinging and shirt-dampening tears from Grace. ‘Why? What did she do?’ he asked at once.
Grace’s crying was preventing her from answering straight away, but Bella and I both knew we only had a few minutes before she told him everything.
‘Let’s get her a drink of water, Libby,’ Bella said, quickly pulling me after her into the kitchen and shutting the door behind us.
It was time to decide what our story was going to be.
‘We’ve only got two options,’ I whispered. ‘You either confess you took the money, or we pretend we know nothing about it. If you confess, Mum and Dad are going to be furious and they’ll want to know why. But if we keep quiet then Grace will still be a suspect, which isn’t really fair.’
‘It can’t only be Grace who’s had the opportunity to take it,’ Bella said with a cross frown. ‘Hasn’t Aunt Thecla got a cleaning lady or somebody like that?’
‘Bella, it’s lucky she doesn’t!’ I snapped. ‘Can you imagine if her cleaning lady got fired because of us? We’d have to own up then!’
‘Not necessarily,’ she said stubbornly. ‘After all, it’s not our fault if Aunt Thecla goes around accusing innocent people instead of finding out the truth first.’
I glared at her. Sometimes I just can’t believe how pig-headed my sister can be. Or how selfish. ‘Bella, Aunt Thecla’s just given us that really expensive jewellery, and she’s paying for our new school and … and … you stole from her! How can you blame her for any of this?’
She was looking a bit taken aback by my sharp words, then Dad shouted to us from the other room. ‘Bella! Libby! Come in here!’
‘I think we should tell the truth,’ I said. ‘Just that you borrowed the money. Not about Sam!’
‘No,’ Bella said in a panicky voice. ‘They’ll want to know why I took it. They might even guess it’s to do with Sam. Libby, we can’t tell them.’ She gave me her most desperate pleading look.
‘GIRLS!’ Dad sounded impatient and his voice was nearer.
‘OK!’ I caved, just as he flung open the kitchen door to glare at us.
But it wasn’t us that Dad was really angry with. It was Aunt Thecla. After we confirmed Grace’s version of what happened at our aunt’s house, he snarled, ‘That’s it! I’m not having her accuse Grace like that! From now on, you three don’t go near your aunt without me or Mum with you! Do you understand? Libby and Bella, stay here with your sister until I get back.’
‘Where are you going?’ I called after him as he headed for the door.<
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But he didn’t reply.
‘So what do we do now?’ I asked miserably as the front door slammed behind him and Grace burst into tears again.
‘You stay here and babysit,’ Bella grunted. ‘I’m going out.’
‘Wait … we’ll come with you …’
‘No. I don’t want you two tagging along.’ And two seconds later she was gone.
I guessed she must be going to see Sam. Since he’d started working at the local garage she’d been popping in to see him on his lunch breaks. I didn’t want to be stuck inside on my own with Grace so I offered to take her to the park on her scooter. ‘Let’s have a look at Dad and Aunt Thecla’s old house on the way there. Tansy lives right next to it, so we can see if she wants to come to the park too. I’ll just send her a text to tell her we’re on our way.’
* * *
Ten minutes later I was shouting for Grace to slow down as she scooted along on the pavement ahead of me. ‘This is the street,’ I yelled out. ‘Start looking for the right number.’
Each house stood on its own, set back from the road along a short drive. Most of them had large front gardens with high gates at the entrance. We’d driven past Dad’s old house a couple of times before but he’d never wanted to stop and have a proper look.
‘This is it,’ I told Grace as we reached a grey sandstone house set in a large garden, which we couldn’t see properly because it was surrounded by a high brick wall.
‘I wonder which bedroom was Daddy’s,’ Grace said, looking in through the impressive black wrought-iron gates that guarded the entrance.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘You should ask him.’
We stood at the gates for a while staring in at the house where Dad had spent his childhood. Somehow it was really hard to imagine him ever belonging here.
‘Let’s see if Tansy’s in,’ I said, turning my attention to the house next door. Tansy hadn’t answered my text message but that didn’t mean we couldn’t call on her.
‘Look, it’s for sale,’ Grace pointed out excitedly. ‘Maybe we can buy it!’