Staverton

by Caidan Trubel

  Angela stepped off the boat and spoke to me in a low voice. “Lucy, what would you prefer to do, really? The bike might not be a good idea if you’re feeling ill, and I’m pretty sure Caroline would rather we all went home now anyway.”

  “I’d feel awful if everyone’s day was ruined because of me, and I am starting to feel better already. By the time I’ve caught the bus, I’ll be fine.”

  Angela nodded and went to speak to Michael. As Angela issued instructions, Caroline pouted and sat on the deck of the boat with her arms crossed.

  Michael and I waved to the others on the boat as it pulled away.

  “It’s so good to be on dry land again. I can’t tell you how good it feels,” I said.

  Michael laughed. “I can see that. You’re starting to look better already. Fancy a walk around the town before we get the bus?”

  I thought that would be a good idea. The salty air was refreshing, and with each step, I felt better.

  We walked around the cobbled streets in Chillington, looking in the windows of little shops that sold postcards and fudge. When we came to a small gallery, I asked Michael if he minded if we went in. He agreed and we wandered around, looking at work by local artists.

  I stopped in front of one seascape. There was no label on the canvas. Perhaps, it was a newly acquired painting. There was something intriguing about it. The colours were beautiful, but something else caught my interest, something in the way the artist managed to convey the strength and violence of the sea, despite the water looking calm on the surface.

  “Do you like that one?” Michael leaned over, so close I could feel his breath on my neck, and I shivered.

  “Yes. I wonder how much it is.” Not that I could afford it, I was supposed to be saving for university.

  “What do you like about it?”

  I shrugged. “The colours, but I don’t like the way the artist has handled the perspective. When I look at it, I feel as if I’m perched on top of that cliff, and I’m going to tumble into the sea.”

  Michael looked at me for a moment, then burst into laughter.

  “What?”

  Michael couldn’t answer, he was laughing so much he had to leave the shop and go outside.

  I followed him out of the shop, feeling a little hurt that he was laughing at me. “What?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, still grinning. “I offer to escort you home, and when I ask what you like about my painting you start talking about its faults.”

  “It’s yours?”

  Michael nodded. “Yes.”

  “It’s amazing,” I said. Out of all the paintings in the gallery I thought that had been the best.

  “Oh, you can’t backtrack now. You’ve already told me what you really think.”

  “No I’m serious. It’s brilliant. I’d love to have your talent.”

  “Sure, whatever you say. I think you’re going to be an art critic. Man, you are harsh.”

  I gave up, I knew he was teasing. It was nice to see him smile when he usually spent so much time looking angry at everyone.

  “Do you really want to work in the art world when you finish uni?” Michael asked.

  I nodded. “I want to study history of art, and afterwards, get a job related to art. I can’t paint, but I’d still like to be involved somehow.” I looked back at the gallery. “I’d love to own a place like that.”

  Michael looked surprised, and we turned and strolled along the street, stepping in the road to avoid a passing crowd of tourists.

  “So has critiquing my work built up your appetite? We could go and get some lunch if you’re feeling better?”

  We ate seafood for lunch, prawns and clams with crusty fresh bread, at a small café facing the sea front. I told him a little about Freddie and how quiet life is in that area of Scotland.

  “You sound as if you’ve come to like staying up there during the holidays,” he said.

  “Holidays, yes, but it’s not really where I would like to live permanently. I mean Freddie’s great, he really is, but there is nothing much to do there.” I looked up. “But you’d love it, at least for a little while. The landscape would be an amazing subject to paint.”

  He poured us more water from the bottle the waitress had left on the table. “I’d like to do that, just take off in my car and travel around, stopping at places that I’d like to paint.”

  “You could do it once you’ve finished your degree next year. Have a kind of gap year.”

  “Maybe. Money might be difficult.

  “You could sell your work, or maybe your Mum and Dad–”

  “No.” He cut me off.

  I sensed I’d touched a nerve. Now he was back to how he’d been earlier, brooding and angry. I tried again. “You know, your painting really was good. If I had the money, I’d have bought it.”

  That earned me a smile, but he didn’t say anything. The easy conversation we’d shared over lunch had died.

  “So do you think history of art will be an interesting degree course? I’m surprised you didn’t study something like that instead of economics.”

  “Surprised?” He turned back to me, with the same expression on his face as the day he told me off for not preventing Caroline’s swim out to the rocks.

  I picked up my glass, took a sip. What was his problem anyway? I was sick and tired of pussyfooting around members of this family. If I said something they didn’t like, they went into a sulk.

  “I don’t know why you’re surprised,” he said. “The whole economics thing is my father’s idea. He wants me to follow in his footsteps. He’ll pay as long as I study the subject he wants me to.”

  His jaw tightened, and I saw the anger in his brown eyes.

  “I can see why you’d be annoyed with him, but I’m sure he thinks it’s what’s best for you. A career to fall back on and all that. That’s what my mum and dad used to say.” I smiled at the memory.

  He exhaled and all the fight seemed to flow out of him.

  “I don’t want to discourage you, though,” I said. “If art makes you happy, you should go for it, you don’t want to spend the next forty years hating your job.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Of course it is. You can do it on your own, you don’t need his money.”

  “Is that what you think this is? That I’m afraid he’ll cut me off?”

  I shrugged. “Well isn’t it?”

  He leaned forward, his tanned forearms resting on the table. Indecision played over his face. “Look, my father wants me to follow in his footsteps, make him proud. Jake didn’t, so I’m all that’s left. I want to make him happy, to make him proud. I wish it were that simple.

  “I don’t want to be a banker, especially not one of those braying Hooray Henrys my father mixes with. All my life, I wanted him to notice me, to be proud. But I’m not good enough.” His mouth curled in a tight smile. “Did you know he wanted me to go to Oxford? As if I could.”

  “I’m sure you could have done,” I said. “Caroline says you’re really clever.”

  “I get by, but I’m not the genius prodigal son he wants me to be. Not by a long way.” He sighed and leaned back in the chair. “I’ll get the bill. We better get back.”

  We paid up, headed out and walked to the bus stop.

  “Why don’t you talk to your father about it?”

  “What’s the point?” He thrust his hands in the pockets of his jeans and took wide strides, so I had to increase my pace to keep up.

  “We talk, he’s right, I’m wrong. That’s just how it is. I’ve always toed the line, but once I’m done with my degree, I’m going to do something for me. It’s my life, not his.”

  “I’m sure he’ll see that if you explain.”

  Michael turned to face me, his eyes looked incredibly sad. “No, Lucy. He won’t and that’s what hurts. I want to make him happy, but even when I do exactly what he wants, it isn’t enough. I’m always a disappointment.”

  A grey cloud slipped over the su
n, blocking out its warmth. I shivered, and we waited in silence for the bus.

  There were only a few passengers on the bus on the journey back. An old lady in a cardigan, plus a winter coat, despite the fact it was twenty-eight degrees outside, sat near the front. A gaggle of teenage girls, wearing hardly anything, piled on the bus at the next stop. I noticed the admiring glances they threw at Michael, and the elevated voices they used to try and get his attention.

  He was very good looking, in a dark, brooding kind of way. He only wore jeans and a white t-shirt that showed off his tan, but they were obviously expensive.

  I glanced across the aisle and saw the girls were still staring. They probably assumed I was his girlfriend. I smiled at that thought. When the girls got off two stops later, I heard one of them mutter “lucky cow” as she walked past. I flushed and looked at Michael, but he hadn’t been paying any attention.

  “I was thinking,” Michael said. “Seeing as you like criticising paintings, perhaps you’d like to go to the exhibition in Dorset next week?” He smiled.

  Glad to see he had cheered up a bit, I smiled back. “Sounds good.”

  Any thoughts I still had of leaving Staverton early and going to Scotland vanished. A trip to an art exhibition with Michael was the perfect thing to look forward to. Now, I just needed to smooth things over with Caroline.

  We picked up the bike from the small garage next to the gallery. The shop was closed, but I peered in, looking at the artwork while Michael wheeled the bike out then locked the garage door.

  “Ready to go?” he asked, handing me a black helmet.

  “Ready.”

  “Have you ever ridden pillion before?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  He grinned. “Never mind. Lean into the turns okay?”

  I put the helmet on and swung a leg over the bike. “Okay.”

  Michael kicked up the stand and started her up, the engine rumbled. I wrapped my arms around his chest, and we set off at a slow pace through the town centre’s narrow roads.

  As we left the town, Michael increased the speed. “Hold on to me,” he called over the roar of the engine.

  Behind him, I whispered, “With pleasure.”

  Chapter 19

  Michael and I didn’t get back to Staverton until after five. The sailing party were already home.

  I made my way up to Caroline’s room, feeling like my body was still buzzing from the motorbike. I knocked on the door, then poked my head around the door.

  “Hi.”

  Caroline had emptied most of the contents of her wardrobe onto her bed and the floor. She crouched on the rug, sorting through clothes. When I entered, she looked up. “Finally, the wanderer returns. Where have you been?”

  I grinned, found a small area of the bed that wasn’t covered in clothes and sat down. “We had a late lunch and a look around town.”

  Caroline looked at me for a few moments before she said, “I see. Well, the rest of the sailing trip was incredibly boring. I had no one to talk to.”

  The afternoon had put me in a good mood, determined to make things better between us, I said, “I’m sorry Caroline, but I felt so awful I had to get off the boat.”

  “You did look pretty bad.”

  “Thanks very much,” I said and turned my attention to the piles of clothes. “What are you doing with all these?”

  “Clearing out my wardrobe. I have nothing to wear.”

  “But you’ve got gorgeous clothes.” I picked up a black silk dress. Most of Caroline’s clothes were well-cut, designer-labelled items, but now they were all screwed up in piles. It made me think about the purple dress Freddie had given me and what Caroline would have made of it.

  I folded Caroline’s silk dress, smoothing out the creases, then turned to her. “Guess what. Michael asked me to go to an art exhibition in Dorset with him.” I grinned. “Do you think I could borrow something of yours to wear? I only brought one dress with me, and that was the black one, which isn’t really suitable to wear during the day. It’s too eveningy.”

  Caroline dropped the skirt she had been holding and put her hands on her hips. “An exhibition? Like a date?”

  “Oh,” I blushed. “Well it isn’t really a date, but...”

  “So you’ve set your sights on my other brother now. You were all over Jake when he picked us up.”

  “I was not!”

  Angela picked that moment to knock on the door, and entered without waiting for Caroline’s permission. “Is everything okay, girls?”

  Caroline picked several items up off the floor and dumped them on the bed. “Everything’s fine.”

  “Why is it such a mess in here? You’re supposed to be choosing something to wear for tonight.”

  Caroline sat down on the stool next to her dressing table and began yanking a brush through her hair.

  “Caroline, stop. You can’t treat your hair like that. You need to be more careful.” Angela took the brush from Caroline and started to tease out the tangles gently. “There, that’s better,” she said and stroked her hair. “I used to do this for you when you were little. You loved me brushing your hair. One hundred strokes before bed, do you remember?”

  Caroline took the brush from her mother’s hand and put it on the dresser. “That’s because you told me it would make it beautiful, but it didn’t. It stayed a frizzy mess.”

  “You’ve got beautiful hair, darling. It just needs a bit of care and attention. What was the name of that hair serum?” Angela turned to me. “Do you remember?”

  “Um, ‘No Frizz,’ something like that, I think,” I said.

  The look Caroline gave me was pure poison. I looked away.

  “Well, we’ll get you some of that,” Angela said and kissed the top of Caroline’s head.

  “Now make sure you pick out something nice to wear for tonight,” Angela called over her shoulder as she walked out of the bedroom.

  I moved to stand behind Caroline, looking at her reflection in the mirror. “What’s going on tonight?”

  Caroline stared at me but didn’t answer the question. “If you think I invited you down here to try and snare one of my brothers, you can think again. You’re as bad as that tart Gwen, throwing herself at every man who glances her way. It’s so embarrassing.”

  “I’m not trying to snare your brother.”

  “You should stick to Jason, the gardener. He’s more your type.”

  “You bitch!”

  “Just telling the truth. My brothers are hardly likely to fall for a charity case like you, are they?”

  That hurt. Really hurt. All the times Caroline stuck up for me in the past and told me to ignore the girls who’d laughed at my scholarship status.

  Caroline turned from the mirror to face me. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to weasel your way into my mother’s good books. It won’t work.” Caroline jabbed the hairbrush in my direction. “You’re just her pet project, for now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who do you think stumped up the scholarship so you could go back to St. Catherine’s?”

  “Caroline, that’s enough,” Angela stood in the doorway, eyes narrowed.

  Caroline took a sharp breath and then stormed out of the room, dropping the brush on the floor.

  I stood by the dressing table, stunned.

  Angela entered the bedroom and sat down on the bed with a sigh.

  “I didn’t realise you paid for my scholarship,” I said in a quiet voice.

  Angela wrung her hands. “It made sense, Lucy. We were planning to give a donation to the school during Caroline’s last year anyway.”

  “I see. Thank you.”

  Angela patted the bed. “Come and sit down.”

  I sat beside her, and she put a hand on my shoulder.

  “There is nothing to thank us for, but seeing as we are having this little chat, there is something I’d like to talk to you about.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’ve noticed you and M
ichael have become close.”

  I flushed scarlet. I did not want to have a conversation with Angela about Michael. For one horrifying moment, I thought she might be about to give me the safe-sex lecture.

  “Um, we’re just friends,” I stammered, hoping to head her off and prevent a chat about the birds and the bees.

  “I’m glad.” Angela pursed her lips in a thin line. “Because I don’t think a relationship between you and Michael is a good idea.”

  “Why?” The word burst from my mouth before I could stop it. Why was it not a good idea? I thought Angela liked me.

  “You’re both so young, Lucy. You’ll be off to university in a few weeks. There are exciting times ahead of you. You don’t want to get involved in a relationship at this point.”

  I frowned. Surely, that was up to me and Michael. Angela might pretend she was looking out for my best interests, but I imagined she was more concerned that I wasn’t a suitable match for her son.

  “And I feel I can confide in you, Lucy.”

  “Confide in me?”

  “I’m concerned about Caroline. Last summer she was extremely upset after a couple of local girls used her to get close to Michael and Jake. They pretended to be her friend, then dropped her like a stone when the boys weren’t interested. Caroline doesn’t make friends easily.”

  Angela turned and smiled at me. “She thinks the world of you, Lucy. I think she’s worried she might lose you to Michael.”

  “But that’s silly. I...”

  “I’ve spoken to Michael,” Angela continued, ignoring me. “He realises it is not worth upsetting his sister over a summer romance. And I know you are very fond of Caroline, and wouldn’t want to hurt her.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Good, then it’s settled.” Angela smiled. “I knew you’d understand. Now, I better go and find Caroline. I’ll smooth things over.”

  I nodded. I was speechless. So Caroline thought I was trying to sneak my way into her brother’s affections, and she was feeling displaced.

  But that was ridiculous. There was no reason I couldn’t be friends with Caroline and see where things led with Michael.

  “If Caroline is upset with me, perhaps it’s better if I leave.”