The Heights

by Juliet Bell

  His father drained his teacup. ‘I’m late for work. We’ll discuss this over dinner.’

  It was the best he could hope for. He’d not expected either of them to jump for joy at the suggestion but it hadn’t been dismissed out of hand. That was something. He helped his mother clear the breakfast things and load the dishwasher, reinforcing the image of the helpful, responsible son, before he left the house.

  Of course, most of what he’d said was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. It wasn’t even the main truth. He didn’t want to stay for Isabelle or for his mother or for art. He had to stay because this was where Cathy was.

  Cathy woke up early. She always woke up early on this day, even now, when there was nothing to wake up for. Mick wouldn’t remember, and if he did he wouldn’t care. Being right at the end of August, it was always holidays and all the friends who’d have any money to get her anything were away on their nice holidays with their nice parents. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that Cathy was fifteen now. Fifteen was nearly sixteen and sixteen was officially grown-up. When she was sixteen she could do what she liked and Mick couldn’t say anything.

  She rolled over. Now that the other room was Harry’s nursery, Heathcliff slept on the floor next to her bed. Mick had told him to sleep back in the alcove at the top of the stairs. Either that or he could hit the road. But mostly he slept here with Cathy and Mick didn’t even notice. She’d wake up with him snuggled beside her. Except when she’d been out with Edward. Then Heathcliff vanished. He usually didn’t come back till the next day. Today he was already awake and sitting on the floor, waiting for her.

  ‘I got you something.’

  Cathy sat up, pushing the covers away from her legs. ‘What did you get me?’

  He pulled a package from under the bed and handed it to her. It was wrapped crudely in a paper bag, the edges held down with grubby, curling sticky tape. Cathy tore the paper away, to reveal a smaller tissue-paper package. She tore further and caught a glint of gold before a chain spilt onto her lap. The tiny gold links held a bar emblazoned with her name. Cathy. ‘Where did you get this?’

  Heathcliff stuck out his chin. ‘Bought it.’

  ‘With what?’

  He shrugged. ‘Money.’

  ‘What money?’

  ‘Money I found.’

  ‘Where’d you find money for this?’

  ‘Don’t you want it?’ He lunged towards the necklace on her lap. Cathy was quicker. She grabbed the chain in her fingers and pulled it to her chest.

  ‘I didn’t say that. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t nick it.’

  ‘So what if I did? It’s yours now.’

  Cathy loosened her grip on the necklace and held it towards Heathcliff. ‘Will you put it on for me?’

  She turned away from him, lifting her hair away from her neck and waiting for him to pass the chain around her throat. She waited, absolutely still, while he fumbled with the clasp behind her, leaning his face in close to her body to peer at the catch. Eventually the pendant fell against her collarbone, secure in its place, and he moved away.

  He stepped back to look at her. His eyes flashed from her face to the necklace and back again, and she saw something in his face she’d never seen before. He quickly stepped forward to kiss her, like he had at Christmas. But this time, he didn’t kiss her on the cheek. He kissed her lips.

  Cathy jumped back, and raised her fingers to her lips. ‘Why did you do that?’

  Heathcliff scowled. ‘It’s your birthday. I’m allowed to kiss you on your birthday. Aren’t I?’

  ‘I guess… but…’

  Heathcliff scowled. ‘You let that Edward kiss you all the time. I’ve seen you.’

  ‘That’s different. He’s not my brother.’

  ‘I’m not either. Not really.’

  Cathy darted out of the room into the bathroom. She sat on the toilet seat, her fingers touching first the necklace then her lips. She didn’t know what to think about Heathcliff kissing her. It was different than Edward. She kissed him because that’s what boys expected of their girlfriends. It was how things were supposed to be when you were going out together.

  It wasn’t like that with Heathcliff.

  When Mick finally banged on the door and told her to get out of the bathroom and go see to the baby, Heathcliff was nowhere to be seen.

  Edward drove into town. Cathy was waiting, as usual, by the statue in the middle of the square. Over the holidays he’d taken her to the pictures and for pizza and burgers. They’d driven as far as York and Filey. Sometimes Isabelle had come as well, but not so often any more. Heathcliff refused to come at all, which was fine by Edward. His parents had accepted Cathy. He didn’t know what they’d make of either of her brothers.

  Today he was going to take her to get lunch, not at the Wimpy, but at the White Crown on the hill outside town. It was where Father had taken Mother on their anniversary. It was a fancy sort of place but it was what she deserved.

  She jumped into the car, leaning across to kiss his cheek before he pulled out into the traffic.

  ‘Happy Birthday,’ said Edward

  ‘Thank you.’ She leaned back in her seat for a minute. ‘What did you get me?’

  Edward smiled. ‘It’s not polite to ask that.’

  He heard her loud, dramatic sigh. She was always doing that. Rolling her eyes at his ideas of politeness and the right way to do things. She was right. Of course she was right. He didn’t want her to be polite and behave the way he’d been taught. He was mesmerised by the way she occupied every single moment she was in, controlling things and bending them to her will, forcing the world to be as she wanted it to be.

  ‘I’ll give you it at the restaurant.’

  ‘So we’re going to a restaurant?’

  ‘Yes.’ He’d been keeping his whole plan for the day a surprise, but it probably didn’t matter if she knew now.

  ‘Like a proper restaurant?’

  ‘The White Crown.’

  ‘Never been there.’

  ‘It’s nice.’

  She was quiet for a moment. ‘Is it fancy?’

  ‘A bit fancy.’

  She sighed again. ‘The fancier the better. I want silver cutlery and a man to take my coat and I want them to call me madam or Miss Earnshaw. And I want to eat something amazing. Caviar. Will they have caviar?’

  Edward shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. They might take your coat, though.’

  ‘I’m not wearing a coat.’

  ‘Right. Well, it’s summer, isn’t it?’

  Cathy pouted. ‘But I’d have worn a coat if I’d known.’

  The dining room wasn’t busy on a weekday lunchtime, and Cathy didn’t seem to notice the look the waiter threw at her untamed hair and worn clothes.

  She scanned the menu. ‘Bits of this are in French.’

  Edward was momentarily uncertain. Was this the right sort of place to bring her? He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

  ‘That’s stupid. We’re not in France.’

  ‘You said you wanted fancy.’

  ‘You can be fancy in English.’ She peered over her menu at him. ‘Like you. You’re fancy and English.’

  ‘I’m not fancy. I’m normal.’

  ‘Coq au vin? That’s like chicken in wine?’

  ‘Basically.’

  ‘So why do they call it coq there, but chicken in the chicken Kiev?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Course you don’t. Cos it’s stupid.’ She scanned her menu again. ‘What’s the most expensive thing they do?’

  ‘Lobster probably.’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘What’s the second most expensive thing?’

  Edward established that the second most expensive thing was steak and ordered two of those. He also ordered prawn cocktails for starters. Cathy liked the idea of starters.

  ‘I haven’t seen that necklace before,’ he said as they waited for the prawns. ‘Was that a present from your brother?’


  ‘Mick? No. He never remembers my birthday. Wouldn’t buy me anything even if he did.’

  ‘I meant Heathcliff.’

  She frowned. ‘Heathcliff’s not my brother. Not my proper brother.’

  The prawn cocktails arrived and Cathy started eating with more gusto than manners. Leaving Edward to think about what she’d said as he ate his prawns more slowly. He’d heard the rumours, of course. But rumours weren’t enough.

  ‘That was good,’ Cathy said, wiping her mouth.

  Edward didn’t want to spend all their time together talking about Heathcliff. But he had to get it straight in his mind before he gave Cathy her present.

  ‘So, how did Heathcliff become part of your family then?’

  ‘My dad brought him home. Back when I was a little girl. It was September. I know because Daddy used to get a cake on that day every year for his sort-of birthday.’

  ‘He brought him home?’ Edward could hear the discomfort in his own voice. You didn’t just bring children home. That wasn’t how things worked at all.

  ‘Yeah. His mam didn’t want him any more, so he came to live with us.’ Cathy stared out of the window for a second, seemingly transported across the hills and far away from the restaurant table. ‘But it’s like he’s always been there.’

  Edward’s heart was pumping harder in his chest now. ‘So you’re like brother and sister? Like me and Isabelle?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She’s always sort of there. I don’t really think about it.’

  ‘But she’s like a part of you?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Like a part of you that will always be there. Like Heathcliff and me.’

  Two steaks appeared on pristine, gold-rimmed plates, and Cathy hungrily tucked in. Edward ate more slowly, chewing carefully. He hadn’t really got the answers he wanted. Of course, that didn’t change anything. What he was planning was still the right thing.

  Cathy dropped her knife and fork onto her plate with a clatter. She looked happy. Maybe this was the right time.

  ‘So do you want your present?’

  She grinned more widely. ‘I thought the meal was my present?’

  Edward shook his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the box that had been burning a hole there all day. It was a box he hadn’t shown to his parents or Isabelle. It was the box he’d saved his allowance for the last four months to buy. He slid it across the table. It was only a couple of inches square with a neat blue ribbon tied around it. Cathy scooped it off the table and tore the ribbon away, flicking the box open in a single movement to reveal the gift inside.

  Cathy stared at the ring. This was it, wasn’t it? It was quicker than she’d expected but this was it. She softened her expression and reminded herself to look surprised. ‘Oh, Edward.’

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘It’s beautiful.’ It was. She could see that it was. Expensive too, probably. The ring was a narrow gold band with a circle of diamonds around an emerald in the centre. ‘Are they real diamonds?’

  Edward frowned and nodded quietly.

  Cathy smiled. This was what she wanted, not some giftshop necklace. ‘And what does it mean?’

  ‘Er… I don’t know… I…’

  Cathy kept her displeasure off her face. Edward was perfectly decent but he sometimes needed helping along.

  ‘Well, rings have to mean something. They can mean thank you, or that you’ll always be friends, or…’ She dropped her voice slightly. ‘Or I love you. Or will you…’ She giggled. ‘You know.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘You do what?’

  He reached across the table and took hold of her hand. ‘I do love you. Quite entirely actually. And I was hoping that, you might… that is to say… that we might…’

  ‘We should move in together.’ They should. That was exactly what they should do. She should be living somewhere nice with someone who could look after her. The ring glinted in the light. ‘That’s what people who are in love do.’

  ‘So we’re in love? Both of us.’

  She leaned out of her chair to kiss his lips. ‘Of course. So can we? Move in together?’

  ‘Well, you’re only fifteen.’

  That again. That was always the thing, wasn’t it? Old enough to look after Harry. Old enough to bunk off school without anyone caring. But too young to do what she really wanted. Too young to run away and never look back.

  ‘But we will? When I’m old enough.’

  She saw the rush of pink flood Edward’s cheeks. ‘Well, I was hoping that we’d do more than move in together.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, I’ve already told my parents I won’t be going to university next year, so I was hoping that maybe then we could… I mean, when you’re old enough… we could… get married?’

  Cathy beamed. She had him. She had her escape route from Mick and that house and that life. She had her security. She had the man who was going to look after her. She gave him a tiny little nod. This was it. This was going to be her life, and she wouldn’t let anybody get in the way.

  Chapter Eighteen

  April, 1987

  ‘You didn’t really come here to see me at all.’ Isabelle pouted and stamped her foot. ‘We’re the ones who are supposed to be having a sleepover, and you’re spending all your time with Edward.’

  Cathy shrugged. She really didn’t care about Isabelle and her tantrums. Except that if Isabelle carried on too much, maybe her parents would tell Cathy to stop coming round.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Cathy forced a smile onto her face. ‘Of course I came to see you. And Edward too. I like both of you.’

  ‘You like him best.’ The pout wasn’t going away.

  ‘You are my very best girlfriend,’ Cathy gushed. ‘You have the prettiest hair I have ever seen. And your clothes are always so nice. I’m really jealous of your clothes.’

  Isabelle preened. ‘Did I tell you, I bought a new jacket? It’s just like the one in Desperately Seeking Susan. Come and see.’

  Cathy let herself be dragged into Isabelle’s room. She made the right noises and said the right thing for about ten minutes, then she left, saying she needed to go to the bathroom, but really she just wanted to get away from Isabelle.

  She snuck along the hall and into Edward’s room. He glanced up from his textbook as she came in. ‘I thought you were going home?’

  She shrugged. ‘I thought we could do something.’

  He shook his head. ‘You know I’ve got to revise.’

  Typical. Revising was all he was interested in at the moment. ‘Fine. I’ll go and find someone who does want me then.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Home. Like you wanted me to.’ She marched out of the room, down the stairs and out of the front door. Her temper kept her going as far as the town centre and onto the edge of the Heights before she slowed down. She’d stayed at the Lintons’ the last three nights. That was three nights of Heathcliff alone with Mick. Well, not exactly alone. The baby was there too. Surely someone would have fed the baby. Wouldn’t they? She told herself that nothing could have happened between Mick and Heathcliff. He would have run over to Thrushcross and got her if something horrible had happened, but that didn’t stop her imagination going to all the worst possible scenarios.

  She walked more slowly up the hill, and opened the door as quietly as she could. The smell hit her first. The longer she stayed at Edward’s, the worse if felt when she got home, and the more she yearned to sink into a tub of bubbles in the Lintons’ rose-scented bathroom and let the grime seep away.

  The second thing was the noise. The TV was on in the living room, blaring out some bloke ranting about the Pakis. Mick must be off work again. He wasn’t working much now. And from upstairs the sound of the baby screaming pierced through everything. She found Harry standing up in his cot, steadying himself on the railing, wearing nothing but the nappy that had probably been on all night. His face was red an
d blotched with tears.

  ‘Shush now,’ she whispered.

  ‘He won’t stop.’ Heathcliff was sitting on the floor against the wall next to the door.

  ‘I thought you were downstairs.’

  He shook his head. ‘Mick’s down there.’

  ‘Well, why haven’t you changed him or anything?’

  Heathcliff shrugged. ‘S’not my job.’

  ‘It’s not mine either.’ She reached down inside the cot and felt for Harry’s dummy, wiping it on her sleeve before she stuck it in his mouth. He quietened a little. Heathcliff moved behind her. ‘You’re never here any more.’

  ‘I’m here. I live here.’

  ‘Hardly. I don’t see you.’

  ‘You’d see me at school if you came.’

  Heathcliff stubbed his toe into the floor. ‘School’s stupid. And you’re all over Isabelle and him there an’ all.’

  This was the Heathcliff she wanted to kill. The Heathcliff who glared at her and refused to try to be nice. The Heathcliff who couldn’t see that the Lintons were her ticket out of here. ‘You should give them a chance. They’re okay.’

  ‘They’re stuck-up.’ His body was close to hers now. ‘They’re not like us.’

  That was true, but nobody was like them. ‘I don’t get why you can’t just be with me.’

  She didn’t look at him. She stared down at the floor with its dirty swirled carpet and the stains of both their childhoods.

  ‘Being with me used to be all there was. You didn’t need anyone else.’

  ‘Things change.’

  ‘You’ve changed.’

  The words hurt her. She hadn’t changed. She wanted to scream it. I’m still here. I’m still your Cathy, but that would mean giving in and accepting all of this as her lot.

  He moved even closer to her. She couldn’t do it. She turned and shoved him away. ‘You stink.’

  He stumbled backwards. ‘Cow!’

  ‘Don’t call me that.’

  ‘I’ll call you what I like.’

  ‘You don’t understand. Of course I’d rather be with you…’