Hello World

by Joanna Sellick

  The cold bites at me and I tug my coat tighter around me. Jay stands to my right, a sombre look on his face. Then he wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes them tightly.

  ‘I haven’t brought anyone here before,’ I muse quietly. ‘That night on the bridge, this is where I had just come from.’

  Jay absently nods, his eyes never wavering from the gravestone in front of us.

  Alex Mason.

  ‘This is my first Christmas without him. It’s funny you know, I always thought that at some point it would get easier, that one day I would wake up and everything would magically be better again,’ I sigh. Then I turn and look Jay, trying to get my words right. ‘But, I think… since you and Blake have arrived, things have become more… bearable. Old wounds are finally starting to heal, and that’s down to you guys. You guys are the best Christmas present I could ever wish for…’ And then I trail off, catching my words on a sob. Silently, Jay pulls me into a hug and holds me there like he has done so many times since I’ve known him.

  ‘Thank you,’ he whispers into my hair. I pull back and frown at him with confusion. He smiles softly. ‘Thank you for showing me this, I know it can’t have been easy.’

  ‘If you were anyone else, I don’t think I could have,’ I say quietly.

  ‘Neve,’ he asks, his throat working. ‘Can you promise me something?’

  Not trusting myself to speak, I just nod.

  ‘If anything were to happen… to me… If I had to leave, promise you’ll be okay? Promise you’ll be strong for me?’

  I look at him quizzically but Jay looks deadly serious. I frown and my heart speeds up rapidly.

  ‘Are you leaving?’ I say, panic rising in my throat.

  Jay moves a piece of hair behind my ear and tips my chin upwards.

  ‘I will never leave you, Neve. No matter what happens, I’ll never leave you.’

  And it sounds like a promise.

  CHAPTER 16

  Jay tried to get me to go to Kai’s New Years Eve party, he really did. But that’s a line I’m not ready to cross just yet. So instead, Charlie and I spend the night in, watching movies like usual and standing up to watch the count down. We even do the dance to that song we’re supposed to sing even though no one really knows the words. It’s not a great sight, especially with Charlie being slightly tipsy.

  My week was slightly productive though. I finished my applications for various college courses but aside from that I allowed myself to indulge in laziness, only forcing myself to revise when Jay sent me reminder texts.

  Yet, as I sit in Charlie’s battered car with my new purple headphones blaring loud music in my ears, staring out of the window longingly on the drive up to my Grandma’s, I decide I would rather take revising over anything right now.

  ‘And you couldn’t find anything more… civil to wear,’ Charlie sighs, shaking his head as he drives. I smirk.

  ‘It’s not my fault all my smart stuff is in the wash. If she really loves me, she won’t mind what I wear,’ I add innocently.

  I have been very careful this morning to choose an outfit that goes against my Grandma completely. It consists of my black combat boots, patterned leggings, an old, baggy band T-shirt and leather jacket. My nails are also painted black and I’ve given my hair that stylish just-gotten-out-of-bed look.

  She’s going to love it.

  ‘Just like your mother,’ Charlie grumbles, shaking his head. Apparently Mum hated Grandma too; she was just a lot more tolerant of her than I am.

  I laugh and get back to daydreaming out of the window as the rolling countryside passes us by. My Grandmother lives in a huge house that can even trump the Ellsworth’s. It’s an old Victorian mansion sort of a house in the middle of nowhere.

  Just the sight of it makes me want to throw up.

  From an architectural point of view though, the house is amazing. Everything about the building is old, right down to the original foundations and even the replacement windows have been designed to fit in with its previous era.

  Unfortunately there is no giant wall or iron gates. That would have been cool.

  Strings of ivy and other plants coat the old bricks, so in autumn the outside is alive with vivid reds and purples although currently everything is various colours of brown, except the front garden, which looks as pristine as ever.

  But even though the house is beautiful, something about it still makes my skin crawl, unless it’s just the knowledge of who lives there.

  I never knew my Grandfather, he died of a heart attack when Charlie was seventeen, so it’s just my Grandmother living in this mansion, with all this money, while we’re stuck in a two bedroom terrace house.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m completely aware she owes me nothing, but Charlie? I can’t see how she can watch her youngest son struggle with his finances and look after his dead brother’s teenage daughter and not help at all. But she doesn’t, all she does do is criticise him.

  Charlie always defends her by saying that his mother is a firm believer in earning what you get, not wanting her son to turn into a spoilt brat, which I can again understand, but it isn’t like Charlie doesn’t try.

  Begrudgingly, Charlie pulls up the car, our old Clio looking out of place against the large and more expensive cars parked outside the house.

  ‘Okay,’ Charlie murmurs to himself, nervously tugging at his tie. He’s wearing his best suit with a crisp light-blue shirt and black tie. He runs a hand through his hair next, double-checking his reflection in the mirror.

  ‘Charlie, you look fine,’ I assure him with a smile, patting his hand supportively. Charlie sends me a weak smile before groaning at my choice in clothes again. I smirk.

  ‘Just please, be nice?’ he reasons. I roll my eyes.

  ‘I’m always nice. Even when she does bitch-’

  ‘Neve.’

  ‘Even when she does say such sweet things,’ I correct myself with the fakest grin I can muster. This time, Charlie rolls his eyes.

  ‘Okay, here’s the game plan. We get in there, avoid the people giving me the skank-eye, make small talk to a few of the nicer looking old people and then get out of there,’ he instructs, readying himself.

  ‘So basically we talk to no one?’ I laugh. ‘Come on, let’s get this over with.’

  I get out with a reluctant Charlie following me, the mild breeze surprisingly warm as it whips around us. We stick close, making our way up the deserted pathway, (we’re running slightly late) and knock on the huge oak door.

  So help me, my Grandmother does have a butler.

  At least for today she does so I nod my head to him as he takes our coats and I step into the foyer.

  The inside of the house is just as grand as its shell, with its original wooden beams running along the ceiling and pretty paintings lining the walls, which I normally use as a distraction whenever I’m here.

  The whole feel of the place makes me wish I was dressed a bit smarter, but then I remember why I never feel welcome here and divert my eyes from the décor as we find our way into one of the largest rooms.

  Liquor is the first smell to hit me, followed quickly by the intense fog of perfumes coming off the various guests, all of whom are dressed in elegant gowns or suits. The age range differs from those in their late thirties to the elderly, each with champagne flutes held delicately in their hands, their own outfits probably costing more than Charlie’s car.

  No one greets us or spares a look in our direction as we push through to find Grandma sitting gracefully in a leather seat. She’s an imposing woman, despite her small height. Her silver hair is pulled back in a bun and a pearl necklace hangs around her neck. Grandma’s green suit jacket and skirt is pristine, not a crease out of place. A shinning, emerald broach completes the look.

  When she catches sight of us, she detaches herself from the couple she is talking to and approaches us in an impatient manner, her cold stare enough to send little boys running into their mother’s arms.

  ‘Mother,�
� Charlie greets, kissing her on both cheeks in greeting. I make no such move.

  ‘Charles. Neve,’ Grandma greets, disdain filling her stony expression as she looks me up and down. I think she almost accepts the outfit until she sees the boots. ‘Better late than never, I suppose. It saddens me to think my lessons of punctuality didn’t sink in.’

  Charlie grimaces.

  ‘It’s a long way to travel, you can never estimate the traffic,’ Charlie says lightly, playing with the end of his tie nervously.

  Grandma waves a hand dismissively.

  ‘Anyone can be anywhere they need to be if they have the right commitment, take my other guests as an example. And stop fidgeting, it makes you look like a misbehaving schoolboy. Neve, I see your taste hasn’t improved since I last saw you.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure to see you again, Granny,’ I say through a tight-lipped smile, letting the comment wash over me. Her expression hardens even more.

  ‘If you must address me by such ridiculous titles, you will address me with Grandmother. I hope you extend better courtesy to my guests, Neve.’

  ‘Of course, Grandmother,’ I assure her, resisting the urge to grab one of the fancy drinks on offer and pour it down her front. Then I slip away from her and her beady stare, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter before disappearing into the hall. I’m not a big fan of bubbly, but something has to get me through this.

  Normally I’m content to admire the art on display across the ground floor but today I decide to be a bit more explorative and find my way up to the first floor. After a quick dart in and out of various rooms, I make my way up to the second floor and stroll along the hall, taking sips of my drink every now and then.

  I notice one of the heavy oak doors ajar and slip into the room, closing the door behind me. This room is an office and follows the same décor as the rest of the house, except it’s obvious that no one has worked in here for years.

  Knowing my Grandma has an obsession for keeping everything in its place, the room intrigues me. Photos line the shelves along with a few trophies and the furniture looks used but stiff, as if no one has sat down for a long time. A wide, mahogany desk takes up the end of the room, situated in front of a huge window overlooking the gardens.

  Although bits of stationary have been cleaned away, pen pots and empty filing boxes still sit on the desk and gently, I lower myself into the leather chair. An old, faded photo in a thick wooden frame resigns on one side so that whoever was sat at the desk had a clear view of it and I pick it up to take a closer look.

  With a start, I realise this must be my Granddad’s old study. Even more surprisingly, I realise that the two boys in the photo are my Dad and Charlie. My Dad seems to be about sixteen or so, with a cricket bat in one hand and the other around a nine year-old Charlie, who beams ridiculously at the camera.

  I have always known Charlie and my Dad had grown up here, but I’ve never really thought about it whenever I have come before. Gently, I place the photo frame back and glance around at the rest of the photos, able to pick the two of them out easily now.

  Charlie and my Dad shared the same soft brown locks that have been passed onto me, although mine tends to be straighter whereas theirs are heavily curled. Dad also has pale blue eyes similar to Alex’s, whereas I have inherited my Mum’s hazel ones.

  A lot of them are old photos from when they were both a lot younger, some of my Dad graduating from university or holding up various trophies for cricket and other sports.

  My gaze then drifts to the two seats on the other side of the room, a small table next to them, still with a silver tray lying on it ready to hold a bottle of scotch. I wonder if my Dad ever sat there with his Dad?

  I leave the small study and emerge back into the hallway with renewed interest. I try to find the boy’s bedrooms for some more clues as to what my Dad was like but they come up bare, unused after so many years. They had both moved out after all, so they lack any personal items.

  Frowning, I look towards a new direction before a small table pushed up against the wall in the hallway catches my attention. It’s the type of table used to display things like candles and vases, made from the same mahogany wood with delicate vine designs crawling up the legs.

  There is yet another photo frame propped up on this one, this time a wedding photo. My parents smile up at me, their arms tangled around each other with expressions of pure joy on their features.

  My dad is in a black suit, a pale pink tie complimenting the flowers that have been weaved into my mother’s fair coloured hair. Aside from the hair colour, I look most like my mum, and seeing her looking so young is bewildering.

  I don’t have many photos of my parents, and I certainly haven’t looked at them enough to know anything but the faint lines of their most prominent features; like dad’s eyes or mum’s warm smile. I certainly don’t know them.

  I have never wanted to know, never wanted to find out. I have only wanted them with me, and shied away from them when they never came back. That’s how I’ve lived my life, but now something starts to unhinge and I smile back at the photo, a tear rolling down my cheek and splashing onto the glass.

  My mum’s dress is as beautiful as her, floor length with capped sleeves and flowery patterns sewn into the white fabric. Confetti floats around the two of them, enclosing my parents in their very own world and I hug the frame to my chest. Just for a moment, I’m a part of that world too.

  Still clutching the frame, I go in search of Charlie, only to find him still in the same room, a glass of champagne held tightly in his hand. I imagine that isn’t his first glass.

  ‘All I’m saying Charles is that a man isn’t judged on who he is, he is judged on how he presents himself. A salesman is hardly a worthy career for one with such a great upbringing as yourself,’ my Grandmother chastises, now perched on one of her very uncomfortable looking sofas while Charlie stands awkwardly. ‘Your brother was a doctor. Now that is a deserving profession and one he used to the best of his advantage to provide for his family.’

  Charlie just nods along to everything she says, trying to look impassive even though I know it’s eating him up inside. Although he will never admit it, I know how much he wants to please his mother. Charlie wouldn’t be here otherwise.

  ‘It’s that girl, Neve. She should be making her way in the world, not faffing around with paints and what have you. A strong woman needs to know what she wants in order to get what she wants, not to have her head in the clouds. And have you even paid attention to what she is wearing lately? Heaven forbid if she ever finds a man, especially with that ghastly dye in her hair.’

  ‘Luckily for you, you won’t have to lay your precious eyes on it for much longer,’ I say coldly, announcing my presence. Charlie’s eyes dart up to meet mine and my Grandmother just stands up with that ease of grace.

  ‘Good, I hope that next time I see you, you won’t be dressed so inappropriately,’ she replies. Even though she is shorter than me, she still seems to have the ability to look down on everyone.

  I snort, anger boiling up inside and I clench the frame tighter, my other hand balling into a fist.

  ‘Oh, don’t waste your breath. You won’t be seeing me again. Ever,’ I say firmly. ‘It’s hardly like you wanted me here in the first place, I’m nothing but an inconvenience to you.’

  ‘How dare you speak to me like this?’ Grandma hisses back, some of her guests starting to stare now.

  ‘Guys, this isn’t the time or the place,’ Charlie pleads, standing up too. We both ignore him.

  ‘Why do you hate me so much, Granny? Is it because I’m here and my dad isn’t? Because I’m sure you’d be a hell of a lot nicer to me if he was. Well guess what, there was nothing I could have done about that damn car crash. I wasn’t even in the car!’ I yell at her, my face reddening with fury.

  ‘Wash your mouth out, you stupid girl,’ she snaps before turning abruptly to Charlie. ‘You’re going to let her speak to me like this? I thought you coul
d handle the responsibility of raising a child, it seems I was severely mistaken.’ Charlie visibly flinches.

  ‘Leave him out of this,’ I demand. How dare she treat him like that?

  My Grandmother’s small frame shakes violently as she rounds on me again. ‘You will show me some form of respect,’ she snaps, her voice rising. ‘If your father was here now he would be ashamed to call you his daughter!’

  Everything, and everyone, falls into silence.

  My mouth falls open, her words like a verbal slap.

  ‘That is enough.’ A strangely dark and furious voice orders. Shakily, I realise the words came from Charlie, who is glowering dangerously, his glare cast towards his mother.

  ‘I realise I have never managed to please you, that role always fell to Peter, and I’ve gotten used to your crap over the years. But never will you speak to Neve like that again,’ Charlie tells her sharply. His mother blinks in surprise. ‘She’s Peter’s daughter, or have you forgotten that? If not for her, then at least treat his only daughter with the respect she deserves, for him. Until you learn to do that, we won’t be coming back. Neve, we’re leaving.’

  With that, Charlie storms out, leaving the rest of us completely dumbstruck. Finally though, I manage to pull myself far enough out of the daze to follow him to the car.

  Wordlessly, we get in and he starts driving. We go well over the speed limit but I don’t dare mutter a word. In all my life, I have never seen Charlie angry. I’ve certainly never seen that look on his face before.

  Keeping my thoughts to myself, I glance down to find my parent’s wedding photo still in my grasp, my knuckles white from where I have been holding onto it too tightly. Silently, I hug the frame against my chest, willing myself not to cry. I’m good at putting the tears on hold.

  We spend the whole journey in silence, and as soon as we get back home Charlie flies into the kitchen and slams the door. I stand in the doorway for a moment before gently closing the front door and going to hide in my room, still cradling the photo.