The Heights

by Juliet Bell

  ‘Yes.’ Kate’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

  ‘Course it is.’ Harry sounded more certain.

  But it wasn’t, was it?

  A clattering noise, like something falling or being dropped, echoed down the stairs. Lockwood frowned. There wasn’t anyone else living here, was there? ‘Is there someone upstairs?’

  Heathcliff staggered past him towards the door to the lounge, eyes fixed towards the stairwell. ‘Get out.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just get out!’ Heathcliff spat the words in his direction, sending a cloud of spit into Lockwood’s face. ‘All of you get out.’

  Lockwood found himself shouldered out of the way as Heathcliff strode into the hallway and up the stairs. Within a second Harry was beside him. ‘He told you to go.’

  Lockwood nodded. ‘All right. All right. I heard him.’

  He shuffled along the hall as slowly as he dared, listening for noises, or voices, from upstairs. Harry and Kate followed him. As Lockwood turned the lock on the front door, Harry stayed stock-still at the foot of the stairs like a sentry rooted to his post. Kate remained beside him. Lockwood pulled on the handle and stepped into the street. As the door swung closed behind him he thought he heard a word from upstairs. It was barely a voice. It was little more than a growl, but it was Heathcliff. He was sure of that. Heathcliff was calling out to her. ‘Cathy.’

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  June, 2003

  Kate stared at the picture in her textbook. Alchemilla vulgaris. Her father was sitting just inside the living room. She was at the table in the conservatory. Dad always used to sit in here with her, pointing things out, checking her work, talking to her about what they were studying. He didn’t do that so much any more. He’d tell her to read a chapter or he’d let her go on the computer and look up a topic on the internet, but he didn’t sit with her any more. He didn’t seem that interested.

  All the papers had come recently about picking GCSE subjects. There was an information day for home-schoolers in Bradford, but he didn’t seem interested in that either. He just sat in the living room looking at his photographs. Photographs of Aunt Isabelle. Photographs of Kate when she was a baby. Photographs of Granny and Grandad who died before Kate was even born. But mainly photographs of her mother. And all the time Kate was shut in the conservatory with its view of the sky. Sometimes she would watch a bird flying high above her and imagine she was there, completely free to glide and swoop and go wherever she wanted, far far away from here. Sometimes she stared at the sky until her eyes went funny and little purple spots started to dance in front of them.

  ‘Dad.’ She stood up and peered into the lounge. ‘Instead of looking at pictures of flowers, why don’t we go out and collect some?’ They’d done that before when the weather was good – they’d walked out of town and into the countryside, stopping under trees and by hedgerows to look at the different berries and the shapes of the leaves.

  Her father shook his head. ‘It’s all in your textbook.’

  ‘But I’ve been inside all day.’

  ‘Then take your textbook into the garden.’

  ‘It’s noisy.’ It was true. When she’d been little the garden had been big and sprawling, but then Daddy had sold part of the orchard, and then another part and another, and now the building site made their square of lawn noisy and dusty. ‘I wouldn’t go too far.’

  He looked at her and then back to his photographs. Something in Kate’s stomach knotted. She needed to be somewhere else.

  ‘I’ll collect flowers and bring them back to press for my project.’

  Daddy sighed without looking at her. ‘Be back by teatime.’

  Teatime was five o’clock. It was twenty to four now. Nearly an hour and a half out there. She ran through the lounge and got her coat and coin purse, pushed the spare key from the hall table into her pocket, and shouted a goodbye back through the house. She was out. She was free.

  ‘Out of your mouth.’ Luke flinched as Mrs Easby’s wrinkled hand swatted the pen lid away from his lips. As his gaze met hers, she smiled. ‘So are you with us, Mr Earnshaw?’

  Luke nodded. He wasn’t really. He wasn’t in this grubby, disordered classroom at all. In his head he was on his knees thinning out those seedlings until there was one perfect, neatly spaced row.

  ‘So, Mr Earnshaw, let’s hear your introduction.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You mean pardon.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Par example, “Bonjour Madame Easby. Je m’appelle Luke. J’habite à Gimmerton avec ma mère et…” Abruptly the teacher stopped. ‘Or whoever. Off you go.’

  Luke cleared his throat. ‘Bonjour. Je m’appelle Luke. J’habite…’ He paused, swallowing back the ‘Londre’ he’d learnt before. ‘J’habite à Gimmerton avec mon père et mon cousin. J’ai treize ans.’

  ‘Bien. Vous avez un animal de compagnie ? Un chat ou un chien?’

  ‘Non.’

  Madame Easby shook her head. ‘No. No. No.’ She turned her attention to the class. ‘You can’t very well just say “non” on your oral exam, can you? If you don’t have a pet you make one up. Comprenez vous?’

  ‘Oui, Madame Easby.’ The class chorused their response. The teacher turned her attention to her next victim. Luke risked a look at the clock. 3.45 p.m. Five more minutes before the bell, and then twenty minutes of freedom between here and the Heights.

  Those last five minutes went quickly. They always did. Once you were into the last half hour it was okay. It was the hour before that that stretched out, sending the end of the day further and further away. The bell went. Mrs Easby held up her hand. ‘I’ve not told anyone to go anywhere.’

  She kept them for twenty more tortuous seconds before she nodded curtly. ‘Classe, au revoir.’

  ‘Au revoir, Madame Easby.’

  Luke stuffed his hands into his pockets, dropped his head and marched across the yard to join the other kids streaming through the gates. A few of them would be picked up by their mothers. Most would line up by the bus stops to go to the other villages. A few more would follow Luke’s journey towards town, and only a handful would carry on up towards the Heights. As the crowd thinned out he got more and more exposed. The key was to keep your head down and keep moving. The faster you moved the more chance there was of being home before the gangs of kids who stopped at the shop for pop and fags caught up with you. But the problem was, the faster he moved, the quicker he’d be home, and the shorter this little bit of freedom would be. That was the decision every night for the last three weeks – how fast did he really want to walk?

  ‘Hello.’

  He ignored the voice and kept walking. None of the kids at school talked to him. Even the ginger-haired boy who’d been told to look after him on his first day had dumped him by lunchtime.

  ‘Hello.’ Footsteps clattered behind him. ‘Luke.’

  He looked around. It wasn’t a schoolkid. It was a girl in her own clothes, with wild, dark-brown hair sticking out in every direction from her head. He frowned. ‘Kate?’

  ‘Of course it’s Kate. Who did you think it was?’

  Luke shrugged. He wasn’t telling her who he thought it was. She’d think he was half tapped. Maybe she’d be right. Three weeks of watching his dad mope over that photo morning, noon and night might be messing with his head. ‘What you doing here?’

  She held a bunch of scrappy flowers out towards him. ‘Collecting these for my project.’

  ‘You’re doing a project on weeds?’

  ‘No. On British flowers.’

  ‘Right.’ He shrugged and started to walk away. ‘Well, see you then.’

  Unexpectedly she fell into step beside him. ‘I don’t have to be home until five.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, do you want to do something?’

  ‘Why?’

  She pouted. ‘Well, because it might be fun, and we’re cousins so we’re bound to be friends.’

  ‘You’re not fr
iends with your other cousin.’

  ‘Who?’ Her eyes widened as she asked the question.

  ‘Harry. You’ve probably only bloody met him that one time.’

  ‘Was he with the man who came for you?’

  ‘The other one, not my dad. Yeah.’

  ‘I don’t really know him, but I’m sure we’ll be friends too when we get to know each other.’

  Luke swallowed down a laugh. He didn’t think Harry had a friend in the world.

  ‘So, what are we going to do?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Until I have to go home. Where are we going?’

  ‘I’m going home.’

  She stuck her bottom lip out again. ‘Then I’ll come with you and visit. I could meet Harry again.’

  ‘No.’ The rejection was out of his mouth before he’d had time to really think about it. ‘I don’t think my dad really likes visitors.’

  The girl folded her arms, half squashing her bunch of straggly flowers. ‘Then I’ll hang out with you. You can help me find some more flowers.’

  She wasn’t going to go away, was she? Luke shrugged. ‘Whatever.’

  Harry waited. Heathcliff was up there now, doing whatever he did in that tiny room at the back of the house that used to be hers. It was bad that he was up there already. He used to wait until nighttime, but recently the smallest noise or breath of wind would pull him back to that window. It was good in a way, though. If he was up there he wasn’t watching the clock, prowling up and down the living room, constantly checking the time and blowing into a rage if the boy was more than a minute or two later than Heathcliff had decided to expect him. And he was later today. School finished at ten to four. It was twenty minutes, at most, to walk back to the Heights. By quarter past Heathcliff would normally be steaming, ranting and raving about the ingratitude of the little shit he’d taken into his home. Today he was distracted. Harry peered out of the window, but there was no sign of the boy making his way up the hill. It was twenty to five.

  At five past five the door clicked open. Harry recognised the grind of the lock before the tiny click as the latch opened. It was the noise the door made when someone was trying to open it as quietly as possible. A few seconds later, Luke’s pale, white face appeared in the doorway to the lounge, and his eyes scanned the room. ‘Where’s Dad?’

  ‘Upstairs.’

  ‘I’m all right then.’

  ‘This time.’

  The boy shrugged. That wasn’t on. He didn’t get it. Heathcliff expected him home on time. He couldn’t just wander in and out. Harry knew only too well that wasn’t how things worked.

  A crashing noise at the top of the stairs sent Luke scurrying to the seat next to Harry, where he leaned back, trying to look nonchalant, like he’d been here for hours. They listened to Heathcliff’s heavy steps clattering down the stairs and into the lounge.

  ‘Did I hear the door?’

  Luke shook his head. Harry did nothing.

  Heathcliff snarled at the boy. ‘So when did you get back?’

  He shrugged. ‘Ages ago.’

  Harry said nothing.

  ‘Is that right?’

  Suddenly Heathcliff’s face was in his own. Heathcliff’s big, strong arm was across his chest, and he was being pinned against the couch by the whole weight of the old man. He struggled to take in a breath. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What time did the little shit get home?’

  Harry risked a glance towards Luke, who was still sitting alongside him. He didn’t look scared. He didn’t even look interested. He was sitting back, twisting slightly to keep out of Heathcliff’s path, but apart from that he could have been any kid lounging about after school.

  ‘What time?’

  Harry gulped in another breath as best he could. There was no point lying. His dad used to tell lies. It hadn’t got him anywhere. Besides, he didn’t like lying to Heathcliff. Heathcliff was all he had. He was all Harry had ever had.

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Just now.’

  Heathcliff gave one last hard shove against his chest before releasing him. The older man stepped back and leaned one arm on the mantelpiece next to the picture of her. ‘So where were you?’

  ‘I went for a walk.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Just around. Behind the estate.’

  Harry tensed.

  ‘The blue hills?’

  The lad shrugged and pointed half-heartedly to the back of the house. ‘Dunno what they’re called. Back there.’

  Heathcliff’s cheeks coloured deep-red, and his voice rose. ‘What were you doing there?’

  ‘Just went for a walk.’

  ‘Who with?’

  Luke shot a glance towards Harry. Harry looked away. He weren’t here to help anyone else out.

  ‘With Kate. Our cousin.’

  A stillness lingered over the room for a few seconds. Heathcliff stared away from both of them to the back of the room, as if he was staring right through the paper and plaster and bricks to the blue hills beyond. ‘With Kate? Cathy’s girl?’

  The boy nodded.

  ‘And whose idea was this?’

  ‘Hers.’

  Another silence before Heathcliff seemed to reach a decision. ‘Well, I didn’t say you could go up there so you don’t go up there.’

  Luke nodded.

  ‘And if you want to play about with fancy girls then you bring them back here.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Heathcliff turned to Harry. ‘And you’re going to make sure he understands.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah. Harry’ll be meeting you after school from now on. And if any little friends turn up to play with him, he’ll be bringing them back here. All right?’

  Harry and Luke nodded silently.

  ‘Right.’ Heathcliff flung himself into the one decent armchair in the room. Harry checked the clock. Half past five. Time to be getting the tea on.

  Chapter Forty

  June, 2003

  Harry sat down on a low wall in front of a bungalow opposite the school. The net curtain had twitched as he’d stopped outside the house, but nobody had come out to tell him to get off their land yet. He grinned. Sitting on a wall wasn’t a crime, was it? He glanced up and down the street. There were cars double-parked all the way along, right across the no parking zone in front of the school. A few women in skinny jeans and Ugg boots had got out and were standing chatting in gaggles around the gate. One of them glanced his way as she walked past. Harry tried a smile. The woman looked away.

  Harry stared across at the school itself. It’d had a lick of paint in the two years since he’d left, but apart from that not much had changed since he’d walked away with his exam results in his pocket. Four Cs, but only a D in maths. They’d said he could stay on and retake but Heathcliff had said he needed to find work. He was right. School was a waste of time once social services stopped coming round when you didn’t go. If it were important, it’d be compulsory, wouldn’t it?

  The electronic screech of the bell sounded across the playground. Harry stood up, ready for the stream of kids about to pass this way.

  ‘Hello. You are my cousin Harry, aren’t you?’

  The girl he’d seen at the big house had come along the lane rather than out of the school gates. He wondered why she wasn’t at school.

  ‘Yeah. I guess I am.’

  She smiled, lighting up her whole face. ‘Brilliant. I’ve never really had any family – well, apart from my dad – and now I’ve got two cousins. And an uncle?’

  ‘What do you mean? An uncle?’

  ‘Well, Luke’s my cousin, isn’t he? So his dad’s my uncle?’

  ‘Er… not really.’ Harry shrugged.

  ‘And his dad was my mother’s brother. Dad told me.’

  Harry didn’t answer straight away. ‘Sort of. I guess.’

  ‘Are you meeting Luke? I came to meet Luke.’

  ‘He’s not allowed to hang out. Gotta take him
straight home.’

  The girl pursed her lips. ‘Why?’

  “S what his dad wants.’

  The stream of kids was now spilling across the playground and towards the gate. Harry strained his neck up, trying to pick out one face in the mass. Whichever way he came out, Luke would have to walk by here. There he was. Trailing at the back of the crowd. Harry shook his head. That was the wimp’s spot. Either right at the front or right at the back – that was where the weedy kids walked to keep themselves out of trouble. Pathetic. He waited till the horde had swept past him and then stepped forward in front of his cousin, blocking his way. ‘I’ve come to make sure you get home on time.’

  Luke shrugged. ‘What’s she doing here?’

  ‘Says she’s come to meet you.’

  Luke flushed pink. ‘Well, I didn’t invite her.’

  ‘Course you didn’t.’ Harry set out, striding towards town. ‘Come on.’

  Luke hesitated but the girl matched Harry’s pace. He frowned. ‘What you doing?’

  ‘Coming with you.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to.’

  She shrugged. ‘But we’re family. Families do things together.’

  Harry hesitated. The girl had no idea what she was walking into. It probably wasn’t right to take her home with him and Luke. He almost told her to bugger off, but Heathcliff had told him to bring the girl back, so he turned and kept on walking. If she followed them home, whatever happened was her own stupid fault.

  Kate scurried to keep up with Harry’s quick march into town and then up the hill to the Heights. At the foot of the estate she felt her tummy swirl a little. This was the place her dad had told her never to come. This was the place she saw stories about on the front of the local paper. This was, by all accounts, a terrible place with terrible people. The Heights was one of the reasons she wasn’t allowed to go to school. She wasn’t supposed to mix with those sorts of people.

  But Luke wasn’t those sort of people. Luke was Aunt Isabelle’s son. Harry was her cousin too, so if Mum hadn’t died when she did they’d probably all have been the best of friends already. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach and followed Harry up the hill.

  The Heights was like a place you saw on the news or in The Bill. Half the houses were boarded up and there was graffiti scrawled across the front of some of them. Kate’s eyes widened. This was better than walking into the countryside to collect flowers, even better than going on the blue hills with Luke. This was a proper adventure.