‘Did it go OK?’ Dad persisted.
‘Do you want to know because you care about my day, or because you want to check that I behaved well for your residents?’
As it came out of my mouth, I realised I was being just like Alisha. So much for not throwing a strop or being rude like her . . .
Then I thought, But it’s worse for me than it is for her. She’s probably up there in her la-di-dah apartment right now having a bath in French perfume and drinking some posh juice freshly squeezed from fruits flown in from the other side of the planet, while here I am babysitting someone else’s cat. It’s not fair.
‘I want to know the answers to both my questions,’ said Dad. ‘I thought you’d enjoy hanging out with A-listers. Are you OK, Jess?’
I crossed my arms over my chest. ‘Not really. It wasn’t as much fun as I’d thought. Alisha acts like a spoilt princess.’
‘You behaved though, didn’t you?’
‘Me? Hah. Yes, Dad. We behaved. Pia and I didn’t let you down. Though you should ask Mrs Lewis how Alisha behaved.’
Dad looked at me, sighed again, then sat up and turned towards Charlie. ‘How was your day?’
‘Same ol’,’ he replied. ‘Anyone want peanut butter on toast? I’m starving.’ He went into the kitchen area. ‘How about you, Dad? What’s happening in La-di-dah Land?’
Dad rolled his eyes. ‘Not so great. First that darn cat went missing and then there’s a smell of fish coming from the hotel kitchen next door and it’s permeating the lobby—’
‘That’s probably why Chu did a runner,’ I interrupted. ‘He smelt the fish.’
‘Maybe, but it’s not how we want a five star establishment to smell. All in all, it’s not been a good day and on top of everything else, Poppy Harrington has quit. She’s said she’ll work to the end of the week and then that’s it – but the book is full of appointments and there’s no-one to organise the therapists.’
I felt so cross I didn’t care. ‘Maybe you should quit too. Then we could go and live somewhere else and have pets like normal people, and not have to live in a place with as many rules as a school or a prison.’
‘Not an option, sweetheart,’ said Dad. He got up wearily. ‘I’d better go and let the family know about the cat and call the search off.’
When he’d gone, Charlie came back through. ‘Take it easy on Dad,’ he said.
‘Why should I? He doesn’t care about me,’ I said. ‘All he cares about is Number 1, Porchester Park.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Do.’
‘Fine, act like a little kid, then.’
I stuck my tongue out at him. No-one understood. I hated my life. Chu came and nuzzled my hand again. It all felt so unfair. The richies could have pets but I couldn’t and seeing Chu made me miss Dave more than ever.
When Dad reappeared, he was with a middle-aged, wiry Japanese man and a little girl of about nine who had her hair in two plaits. She was carrying a cat basket and looked as if she’d been crying. She put the basket down, ran over to me, picked up Chu and nuzzled into him and said something in Japanese. She looked up at me. ‘Thank you much.’
‘This is my daughter, Jess, and my son, Charlie. Charlie, this is Mr Mori and his daughter, Sakura,’ said Dad.
Mr Mori nodded to me. ‘Where did you find him?’ he asked.
Although I was cross with Dad, I couldn’t keep up the silent act with Sakura because she looked so distraught. ‘He came to us. He was tapping at the window,’ I said. ‘I think he was hungry.’
‘Mm. Sorry. No me speak good English. I try. Mm. Chu, he always hungry,’ said Sakura, and her dad laughed. ‘You like cat, Jess?’
I nodded and looked accusingly at Dad. ‘I love them and you speak very good English, Sakura.’
Chu put out a paw and looked at me.
‘You, he like,’ said Sakura.
‘I like him too.’
‘Has girl sister. You like come meet one day?’
She looked at her dad and I looked at mine. Dad nodded, so I did too.
‘I’d love to,’ I said.
Later that night, as I snuggled under my duvet, I felt miserable. I hadn’t even emailed Pia, Meg or Flo to tell them the latest. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I felt angry with Alisha and Dad. I wanted Dave and Gran and things back to how they were. I had too many mixed-up feelings whirling around in my brain, I couldn’t settle. I don’t like myself any more, I thought. I don’t like what I’m feeling, like I’ve gone bad inside. I still worry about how I felt at Mum’s funeral. It’s like a black cloud that sits on my head, all the time. And now all this other stuff. I never used to feel like this. Jealous. Envious. Discontent. I never used to compare myself to other people, thinking they were better than me or had more than me or that I wanted what they had. Gran always says I should be grateful that I live in a country that has food and clothing. But I can’t help it. I want nice things. I want world peace too. Of course I do, and for everyone to be happy, and I always get upset when I see the news and other people suffering . . . oh, I don’t know. I am so CONFUSED. I never used to feel this way before. Should, shouldn’t. Good, bad. Us, them. Upstairs, downstairs. Rich, poor. Me, her. I have to get out of here before I get totally bitter and twisted. I must. Before I go blooming mad.
15
Runaway
The invite to Alisha’s party was delivered on Sunday morning, just as I was getting ready to go out to swimming practice. It came in a silver envelope lined with pink silk and was addressed to me and Charlie.
Carletta and Jefferson Lewis
are delighted to invite you
to their daughter Alisha’s fifteenth birthday party.
On November 26th at 7.30pm.
Fifth floor, Number 1, Porchester Park.
Dress: Beauty and the Beast.
Carriages at midnight.
RSVP: 0207 776 5555
I read it slowly, taking in every word of the sweeping black script, then slipped the thick ivory card back into its envelope. No way was I going to go. Not after how Alisha had behaved on the shopping trip. Girlfriend, you can take your posh invite and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine, I thought.
I went straight to Gran’s after practice. When I’d packed my swimming stuff, I’d also put in my PJs and toothbrush so that I could stay the night. Hopefully Gran would drive me back to get the rest of my things later in the afternoon. Number 1, Porchester Park? I was outta there.
It was bliss to be back at the house, tea and Marmite toast in front of me, Dave curled up on my lap. I felt right again, like I was truly home.
‘So, how’s life back at the ranch?’ asked Gran. ‘What’s the goss?’
I pulled a face. I didn’t want to talk about it, or think about it, just yet. In fact, I wanted to put the place out of my mind forever.
‘The lady who ran the spa escaped already,’ I said.
Gran smiled. ‘You talk about it as though it’s a prison.’
I raised an eyebrow.
‘You’ll settle in,’ said Gran. ‘You just have to give it time.’
That’s what everyone said when Mum died. Give it time. Time heals. All rubbish. I missed her as acutely now as I ever did. I tried to explain that to Gran.
‘I know, love,’ she said. ‘Me too. So, what’s your dad going to do?’
‘About what?’
‘The spa?’
‘Oh, that. After he went into meltdown, he rang Pia’s mum. She’s over there now sorting out the rotas and booking therapists until he can find a replacement.’
‘Of course,’ said Gran. ‘Wanda Carlsen’s a force to be reckoned with, isn’t she? If anyone can get that place organised, it’s her.’
I nodded. I didn’t really care. The whole place could go under and I’d be glad.
‘Gran, can I stay over tonight?’
‘Course you can, chicken. You’ll have to sleep on the pull-out sofa, though, as I’ve put my studio back in order.’
/> ‘I . . . but . . .’ I felt panic rising. ‘I . . . er, that is, Gran . . .’
‘Come on, spit it out.’
‘I want to come back for good. Forever.’
Gran considered what I had said. ‘But what about Charlie? And your dad? Your dad wants you with him.’
‘He doesn’t,’ I blurted. ‘He really doesn’t. All he cares about is his job and what the smelly residents think of him. He has no time for me or Chaz.’ I felt a pang of guilt when I remembered what Charlie had said about needing me to stay there with him. ‘Charlie could come back too.’
‘Is that what he wants?’
Reluctantly, I shook my head. I knew he liked having his own room. ‘Not really, but it’s different for him. He can shut things out better. He spends all his time with his music mates – apparently some new guy’s joined the band who’s really good, so he’s got that to distract him.’
Gran came and sat on the end of the sofa and patted my leg. ‘OK, tell me everything,’ she said.
I started to fill her in on the last few weeks and when I got to the shopping trip with Alisha, and the episode with the cat, I felt a rush of anger. ‘It’s so not fair, Gran. I miss Dave. You know how much I love him, yet the residents can have exactly what they want and . . . well, it’s not just that, although it is that, it’s . . . oh . . . I don’t know. I hate them but I’m beginning to hate myself more. I’m so mixed up. I don’t know who I am any more. I don’t like them but I feel jealous and angry and, oh . . . a whole load of other stuff I’ve never felt before. I don’t like who I’m becoming. I’m thinking mean thoughts and feeling resentful all the time. I feel bad inside. Wanting what they have but not wanting it at the same time – like wanting to swim in their fabbie dabbie pool: it’s ruined going to the public one for me, whereas before I never even thought about it. Now all I can see is how dowdy it is and how crowded and cold it is, but I have to go there to practise regularly as the school competition is next month. I can’t swim in the spa – I’m not allowed. Although I have been invited to Alisha’s party, like rent-a-friend. So I’m allowed to be with them when it suits them. I just don’t fit in there and yet everyone at school thinks everything’s so fab and I’m so lucky and it’s like I have to keep up this pretence that I’m living the dream. Like, yeah right. It’s a total nightmare.’ I burst into tears. ‘I hate my life. I hate Dad. I hate living there. I want to come home and be with you and Dave.’
Gran moved down the sofa and took me in her arms and let me cry. She didn’t say anything, just stroked my hair until the tears turned to sobs then finally subsided.
‘And now I feel stupid. Blubbing like a big baby. I hate myself. I want to be normal again.’
‘Hey. We all have times when we feel like a good cry,’ said Gran. ‘Does you good, I think. Gets it all out. I know it’s been a hard time, a big readjustment, so of course you’ll be feeling all sorts of new things. That’s what life is like, Jess. New challenges. Nothing stays the same. Life moves on like a river, taking you with it, and sometimes it rushes by, and sometimes it flows sedately and gives you time to catch up – you just need time, Jess. You could never go bad inside, my love. It’s not who you are and, trust me, I know.’
‘So can I come back?’ I whispered, through the sobs.
‘Oh, Jess, I don’t know—’
‘Please. Please. You don’t even have to let me have your studio again. I’ll sleep down here on the pull-out sofa. Please let me.’
Gran sighed and pulled me to her. ‘If that’s what you really really want, but we’ll have to talk to your dad about it.’
Gran came back with me to the apartment block. She phoned ahead to tell Dad that she was coming and that I needed to talk to him. Charlie was out but Dad was waiting for us in the house, hovering nervously at the breakfast bar in the kitchen area. He looked worried.
‘What’s this all about?’ he asked, when we came through the door. ‘Has something happened? Are you all right, Jess?’
‘She’s fine, Michael,’ said Gran. ‘At least, not hurt but . . . Jess, do you want to tell him?’
‘Tell me what? What’s going on?’ asked Dad.
I took my jacket off, but Gran kept her coat on.
‘I’m going to leave you two alone,’ she said. ‘I’ll pop out and pick up a few things for tea.’
She closed the door behind her and I turned to Dad. For a moment, I felt sorry for him. He looked so anxious.
‘What’s happened, Jess? Is it something at school? Are you being bullied?’
‘No, nothing like that, Dad,’ I said. ‘Um, let’s sit down.’
We went and sat on the sofa and Dad waited for me to speak.
My mind had gone blank. ‘I . . . er . . . OK, I’m just going to come out with it. I . . . I want to go back and live with Gran.’
Dad’s expression was one of relief. He breathed out heavily. ‘Is that all?’ He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
‘I thought . . . I thought you’d be cross.’
‘Cross? No. Not cross, Jess. Sad. But . . . I didn’t know what to think when your gran called.’
‘What did you think?’
Dad shrugged. ‘Er . . .’
‘Pregnant? On drugs?’
‘Not exactly . . .’
‘Dad! You did, didn’t you? Actually I’m pregnant with twins – no, triplets! Impregnated by an alien, so they’ll be extraterrestrials.’
Dad smiled wistfully. ‘Honestly, I didn’t know what to think. Your gran sounded so serious. I knew something was up. I . . . I was worried. So, you want to leave?’
I nodded. ‘Can I?’
He didn’t say anything for a while. ‘Why do you want to go?’
I didn’t feel that I could talk to him the way I had to Gran. ‘All sorts of reasons. I feel at home with her.’ Wrong thing to say. Dad looked so hurt and then sad again. God, life was difficult sometimes.
‘Jess, if you’re unhappy here then of course I won’t stop you. All I care about is your happiness.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve let you down, haven’t I?’ He looked around. ‘You don’t feel at home here?’
I shook my head. ‘It’s all so new.’
Dad nodded. ‘For me, too. Every aspect of it. I don’t think I got how twenty-four/seven this was going to be and . . . well, I’m sorry if I’ve neglected you. It won’t always be like this. Things will settle as the staff find their way. It’s like a new term at school. Remember how you hated it when you started secondary school?’
‘God, yes. It felt so enormous after junior school and I kept getting lost and couldn’t find which class I was supposed to be in.’
‘Exactly, I remember your mum telling me how you pretended to be sick for weeks . . .’
‘I even painted my face green one day, but of course Mum just cracked up instead of being sympathetic.’
‘You could never fool her. But you know the place like the back of your hand now, don’t you?’
‘I guess.’
‘It could be the same here if you gave it time. Jess, we’re family. We should be together.’
‘Gran’s family too. Her house is the family house. It’s . . . it’s like a link to Mum.’
Dad breathed out heavily again. He looked so tired. ‘You must miss her a lot.’
I nodded. ‘I do,’ I whispered. I wondered how it had been for him. We had never spoken about it, but they had been married for sixteen years and had stayed in touch so they must have loved each other once. ‘Why did you and Mum really split up, Dad?’ I asked. I remembered them sitting down with Charlie and me and giving us some story about how they loved us but couldn’t live with each other any more. Same ol’ sch-piel all my mates whose parents had split up got. ‘Was there someone else?’
Dad hung his head. ‘Not someone else.’ He gestured outside to the towering apartment block behind us. ‘Something else. My job. The strange hours of working in a hotel. Working for the kind of people who want you on call. Your mum was right. I wasn’t t
here and she’d had enough of having an absent husband. And now it seems I’m doing it again, being an absent father.’
‘No. Not really. It’s OK.’ I hated seeing him like this – and him not being around wasn’t the only issue. ‘Mum always said that being ill made her realise what was important in life.’
‘Which is what?’
‘Friends. Family.’
‘Of course,’ said Dad. ‘Family. She always put you two first.’
‘She also said that she felt that life had dealt her a double-sided card. On the one side, she had her family and a great life and on the other, every time she went to the hospital there was a reminder that she was just passing through this world. That we all are. Nothing is forever.’
‘That’s very deep for a fourteen, soon to be fifteen-year-old girl.’
‘That’s me. Deep,’ I said. I grinned at him. ‘Mum said I was deep too. She always spoke very openly to me about what was going on and what she was thinking.’
‘What else did she say?’
‘That in one way she was grateful that she had time to say goodbye and to put everything in order. Some people just die. Poof – they’re gone. I don’t know which I think is best. Like, when Charlie and I were kids, we used to ask each other: Would you rather be burnt to death or drown?’
Dad rolled his eyes. ‘What a question! What a morbid pair of kids you are.’
‘Not really,’ I said. ‘Everyone used to ask each other stuff like that. Like, would you rather be blind or deaf? Stuff like that.’
Dad didn’t seem to be listening any more. ‘She was very brave,’ he said, finally.
‘She was,’ I replied. ‘Where do you think she’s gone? I don’t understand how someone can be here one day, then gone the next, never to return. Where do they go?’
‘I wish I knew,’ said Dad. He reached over and put his hand over mine. I turned mine over and held his hand properly and we stayed like that for a short while.
‘I . . . I always wondered, Dad . . . on the day of the funeral . . . why did you leave so soon after?’
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