His brother was nervous. Not the brother he remembered. Caspian followed him to the car park. Lachlan had stopped talking and Caspian thought how quiet the outside world was. Prison was loud almost all the time. Even in a cell on your own, there was constant yelling among inmates, doors slamming, keys turning, officers yelling instructions, the intercom doing the same. With a cellmate he had to put up with snores, farts, chatter and the sounds of wanking. Now there was nothing. Not even a bird.
“This is my car,” Lachlan said.
A silver Honda. Not a smart, new snazzy one which was a surprise. Caspian’s heart thumped at the thought of his brother driving him anywhere. He swallowed hard. Not much choice about whether he got in or not. Caspian threw his bag in the boot, along with his suit jacket, then climbed in and fastened his seatbelt. Why had anyone thought it a good idea for his brother to drive him home? Couldn’t his father have come? Did I want him to? He had, sort of. Home. Huh.
Caspian hadn’t wanted to go back to Barton Hall but his SO, Glenn Woodrow, made it clear Caspian needed a stable base in order to be released and that home was by far the best option, one that many ex-offenders didn’t have. And did Caspian really want to go into a hostel that wasn’t much different to being inside? No.
He’d almost stopped cutting off his nose to spite his face. It was time his father and brother paid him back for what he’d gone through. He needed time to…reset himself, and then he wanted a job. He had plans for what he’d like to do and he required help.
Lachlan’s speed had Caspian gripping the sides of the seat but when he checked how fast they were going, it wasn’t over the limit. His world had been slow for the last four years. Now it was going to speed up. He stared out of the window and watched real life flash by.
“Want to stop and get something to eat?” Lachlan asked.
“No thank you.”
“Would you—”
“Could you stop talking to me please.” He’d dreamt of this moment for a long time. He didn’t want his fucking brother to spoil it. He took in everything they passed—houses, shops, garages, traffic, people, dogs. Streets of houses gave way to villages in the countryside and Caspian thought how much he’d missed this openness, fields that went on and on. The colours. The brightness. The sky clouded over but it didn’t dampen his mood which was improving the further he was from Shawton.
Not long after they’d joined a motorway, Lachlan pulled off into a service station.
“I need to pee, sorry.”
Caspian did too. He walked with his brother along the lines of parked cars toward the entrance, thinking that everyone who looked at him must know he’d just got out of prison. Mick, his pad mate, had warned him about that. Caspian loosened the tie around his neck but didn’t take it off. He liked the strangeness. Even walking this far without meeting a barrier was something to be cherished.
The bathroom made his heart beat faster. No one watching. He could take his time. No threats. He stared into the mirror as he washed his hands. I look tired. His face was whiter than he’d ever seen it. Prison White. A new shade on a paint chart. He started to think about a palette that kids might like. Bogie Green, Vampire Red. Bat Black. He smiled and for a moment, glimpsed the old him.
“Sure you don’t want anything to eat?” Lachlan asked as Caspian joined him outside the bathroom. “Something you’ve missed eating?”
Until Lachlan had added the second question, Caspian had been considering asking for a burger. Now he shook his head and pressed back his irritation. He had the feeling he was going to be irritated rather a lot over the next few days, weeks…oh fuck it…months.
“Can I talk to you yet?” Lachlan asked.
“No.”
Caspian waited until Lachlan had pulled up in front of the house before he spoke again. “Does Mum know exactly what happened?”
He wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be.
“Yes. I told her. Early on.”
Caspian bit down on the inside of his cheeks. “What did she say?”
“Not what she should have said. She was upset, but she never told me I should have spoken up. I—”
“Betsy?”
“No.”
Caspian climbed out of the car. He had a sudden, violent desire to run to the treehouse before he told himself he was an idiot because Zed wouldn’t be there and it would only be delaying the inevitable. Lachlan took his stuff from the boot and Caspian went with him into the house.
The hall was full of flowers. It looked like a funeral parlour waiting for the corpse—ah, which would be him. His mother rushed towards him in tears and wrapped her arms around him. Panic surged and Caspian pulled away. Don’t touch me. Don’t hold me. He backed right off and she stifled a sob.
“Caspian. Let me hold you. Please. All this time and you’ve not let me see you. Please.”
He shook his head. His heart was hammering, his breathing laboured. No one had held him without violence in mind since Zed. “No,” he whispered.
He watched the way his mother pulled herself together. All emotion gone. Turned off like a tap. “We’re so thrilled to have you home.”
It sounded like the way she greeted her guests. We’re so thrilled you could come. But for a moment, a brief moment, Caspian felt sorry for her. She had no voice. She played her role as his father’s wife.
“Araminta and Cressida are out,” she said. “I didn’t want you to be overwhelmed. They’ll be here for dinner.”
“Where’s father?”
“At work. He’ll come back early.”
Is that all I warrant? That he’ll come back early? But Caspian was the one who’d cut off contact. This was just his father setting the ground rules again.
“Your room’s the same,” she said. “We didn’t change it. Of course, you can do whatever you like with it. It’s a boy’s room, not a…”
A man’s. Caspian nodded.
“We’ll buy you new clothes and get you… Well, we’ll talk about it later. I am glad to have you home again.”
Caspian picked up his plastic bag and went up the stairs. He heard his mother whispering to Lachlan. “What’s wrong with him? Did he talk to you?”
“No. Give him time. Let him settle in.”
Caspian opened the door of his bedroom, stood on the threshold and gave a quiet laugh. Everything looked the same, just tidier and dust-free. His sketches were still in place. Charlie Bear sat on his bed. The marble Zed had given him was still on his bedside table. But the laptop was new. Next to it was an iPhone and a bank card. Caspian switched on the bedroom light, then switched it off again. He did it twice more before he stopped. He’d not been able to turn a light on or off in prison.
He closed the door and dropped his bag on the floor. Carpet. He toed off his shoes and pulled off his socks. A couple of steps over the soft surface and Caspian sighed. That feels so good. He shed the rest of his clothes on the way to the bathroom. He could shower for as long as he wanted. Have the temperature hotter than was allowed inside. The shampoo and conditioner were ones he’d never used before. Probably the most expensive his mother could find. He suspected that was the way she was going to handle the problem of Caspian.
When he finally switched off the shower and reached for a towel, it was so soft, he caught his breath. His heart started to pound, and he swallowed hard. Christ, am I going to freak out every time I remember what I missed?
His old clothes no longer fit him. His jeans were too short and too tight. None of the seven dress shirts hanging in his closet were big enough. A couple of T-shirts were passable. He tried on everything, including his shoes, underwear and swimming trunks. By the time he was done, the bed was piled with stuff that didn’t fit. He was sitting on the floor in black boxers when there was a knock on the door.
“Who is it?”
“Me,” Lachlan said.
“Come in.” Caspian almost laughed at being able to tell someone to come into his room until he remembered how Lachlan had never knocked b
efore but just barged in.
Caspian pushed to his feet.
Lachlan looked from him to the bed and kept his gaze there. “Nothing fits?”
“Not much. None of the things on the bed.”
“Would you like some of my clothes until you go shopping?”
“Do you still live here?”
“No, but I keep a few items in the wardrobe. We live in Tunbridge Wells.”
“We?”
“My wife and I.”
Caspian tried not to look shocked. He was the one who’d chosen to keep his family at bay and it wasn’t as if he’d ever thought Lachlan would ask him to be his best man.
“If you’d been out, I’d have asked you to be my best man.”
Fuck. Had his brother developed mind-reading abilities?
“I shouldn’t have done what I did,” Lachlan said. “I’m sorry.”
Caspian didn’t answer.
“It was the worst thing I’ve ever done, that I will ever do, and I know it’s unforgivable. I want—”
“Is your wife coming tonight?”
“Not tonight. But Elise is looking forward to meeting you once you’ve settled in.”
Caspian doubted it. Both her looking forward to meeting him and his settling in. “Is she the one who was doing medicine?”
“No, she dumped me. Elise was on my legal practice course. I’ll go and get you some jeans. Anything else?”
“A pair of trainers if you have any. Would you bring some black bin liners as well, please. This can all go to a charity shop.”
“I can do that.” Lachlan looked pathetically grateful to be given something to do.
Caspian knew Lachlan wanted to talk to him but he wasn’t sure he could cope with that today. Being sorry wasn’t enough.
Lachlan returned with bin liners, a couple of pairs of jeans and some T-shirts. “If there’s anything else you need, I’ll be downstairs.”
The smallest jeans were the best fit but he had to thread a belt through the loops to keep them up. The trainers were fine. Black Nikes with a purple stripe. Lachlan had bought a new pack of socks too. Caspian filled three black bags with his old clothes and dragged them down the stairs to the hall. His mother emerged from the drawing room as he carted down the last heavy bag.
“Lachlan says he’ll take them to a charity shop,” she said. “To get them out of the way.”
Along with sweeping under the carpet anything she didn’t like to think about.
“Tomorrow we’ll go and buy you whatever you need.” She smiled at him.
Caspian didn’t smile back.
He was fighting the pull of the treehouse. He needed to see it. Just to be sure.
“Betsy’s in the kitchen,” his mother said.
He took the hint. He doubted he could let Betsy hug him and he knew she’d try. As he approached the kitchen he could smell baking. The moment he walked into the room, Betsy dropped a spoon and rushed towards him.
“Master Caspian. Oh, you’ve grown so much.”
Caspian managed to not pull away before Betsy let him go, but only because she didn’t hold him for long and he didn’t have time to panic. She wiped her eyes with a tissue.
“Are you all right?” she whispered.
Caspian nodded. No, I’m not.
“Was it awful?”
He shrugged because it was but he’d never be able to tell anyone how awful because they wouldn’t understand.
“I keep thinking back to that day, the way you crept out of the kitchen and how Lachlan went after you. If I’d seen you come back and get the keys to the Jaguar, I’d have stopped you. I wanted to come and visit you but your parents told me not to, that you didn’t want to see or hear from anyone, otherwise I would have come and I’d have written. Don’t think I didn’t care or that I didn’t worry about you.”
“It’s okay, Betsy. It’s all over now.” He swallowed hard. “Can I smell chocolate cake?”
“Your favourite. The one with the fudge icing. I’ve made white chocolate chip cookies too and I’m doing peppered steak and salad for dinner. You still like peppered steak?”
He nodded. Not that he’d tasted steak the whole of the time he’d been inside. Well, not anything that would pass for steak in a restaurant.
“Would you like anything to eat now?”
“No thank you.”
“You look too thin.”
“Not for long if you’re going to bake all the things I like to eat.”
She pushed a huge cookie into his hand and he slipped out of the house. The same door that he’d left through that day. It seemed a lifetime ago. One bite and sweetness flooded his mouth. Another bite and he’d eaten the entire thing. Shit. He knew he was too thin, but he’d have to be careful.
Caspian ran to the treehouse, though he didn’t manage to get far before he was out of breath and slowed to a walk. He needed to get fit. He needed to do a lot of things. As he made his way through the wood, he tried to calm his heart rate. He wasn’t stupid, so why did part of him think Zed might be there?
The place that had featured in so many of his dreams was now a ramshackle structure with missing planks and holes in the roof, the whole thing overwhelmed by ivy. He climbed up the ladder, that at least was sturdy, and pushed open the hatch. The floor seemed solid though he was careful where he put his feet. Everything had been taken out, the mattress, books, lights. The shelf hung at an angle. If there had been a message from Zed, that had gone too. Not even one origami flamingo had survived. He thought for a moment about rebuilding, but there was no point. He couldn’t put the past right. All he could do was move forward.
By the time he got back to the house, the bags of clothes had gone and the Terrible Twins were home. He evaded their hugs and saw the hurt in their eyes. Too bad. Once they’d asked the obligatory questions, including whether he’d been raped in the shower—his mother had let out a muffled sob at that—they were full of what they’d done. They were off to Bristol University in October, assuming they got the grades. Cressida to study history, Araminta law.
Caspian felt relieved the pair were leaving in a couple of days to spend the summer in France. They were staying in the family’s holiday home with friends from school. He felt a pang of jealousy at the idea of lying by the pool in the sun.
“You should come,” Araminta said. “You’re really pale. Mum and Dad aren’t coming out until August, but you should come now, shouldn’t he, Mum?”
“You’d like our friends,” Cressida said.
He doubted it. “I’m not allowed to leave the country.”
Cressida gaped at him. “Why not?”
“Because I’m still serving the sentence I was given. When you’re on licence there’s stuff you can’t do.”
“That sucks,” Araminta said.
“Is that your considered legal opinion?” Caspian asked.
Everyone laughed at that. Maybe too loudly.
“What else can’t you do?” Cressida asked.
“Stay overnight anywhere but here. Commit another offence.”
“What constitutes an offence?” Araminta asked.
Caspian shrugged. “Anything that breaks the law.”
“Even littering?” Araminta gaped at him.
“I suppose.”
“Wow, so if you were stopped by the police for something really minor, you could go back to prison?” Cressida asked.
He nodded.
Caspian managed to escape on the basis of being tired and went up to his room. The phone was charged up, ready for use. Next to it was a sheet of paper with the number, and also those of his father, mother, brother and sisters. Caspian wrote his number on a piece of paper to give his SO tomorrow. Glenn Woodrow had told him he’d be at the house at nine. Caspian took Glenn’s number from the information sheet he’d been given and entered it into his phone. He didn’t put the other numbers in. Why would he want to call any of them?
He spent an hour messing around with the phone and laptop. Technology had
changed so much. Once he’d worked out how to get online, he used Siri—fucked that up, then googled Zed and found page after page about Zed, Master of Shadows, League of Legends champion. Not his Zed. Caspian had no idea how to spell Zed’s proper name but checking Iranian boys’ names gave him the correct spelling only for him to find no results for Hvarechaeshman Zadeh. Nor for Tamaz. He did find Zed’s father, Majid, in a couple of entries connected with a pharmacy in Maidstone.
This is fucking pointless. Not because he hadn’t found anything but looking in the first place. What did he want to see? Zed’s life had nothing to do with him. Leave him alone.
Caspian took all his sketches down from the walls, leaving greasy marks behind. He struggled to remove Blu Tack from the back without ripping the paper. Some of his early inventions still had promise, some were so crap they were funny. There were drawings of a time travel machine, an easy way to eat peas that looked suspiciously like a spoon, a diagram of a dinosaur go-kart, a machine that made toast, buttered it and spread it with marmalade, and a way to turn a house into a haunted mansion for Halloween.
He put them all in his desk. In the notepads he’d brought back from Shawton, there were four ideas that he wanted to pitch to his father because he doubted the prospect of turning Barton Hall into a place people would visit to be scared would be a winner.
The knock on the door made him jump.
“Yes?” he called.
Lachlan poked his head inside. “Father’s back. Dinner in ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
“Is there anything you need?”
“No thank you.”
Caspian was being careful to be as polite as he could manage because it kept his rage at bay. Before he left his room, he slipped the marble Zed had given him into his pocket. Maybe it would give him courage.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, his father emerged from his study.
“Caspian! At last.”
There was no attempt at a hug. Instead his father held out his hand. Caspian wrapped his fingers tighter around the marble. He didn’t want to shake his father’s hand. He ought to but…
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