Dad looked disappointed. ‘But the ambience won’t be,’ he said.
I remember only a year ago hearing my parents joke about the fact that, in their relationship, Dad was the accelerator and Mum was the brake. It was still true, but somehow they didn’t find it funny any more.
I could see the hotel not far away and walked ahead. ‘See you back there while you sort out the dining arrangements,’ I said and speeded up my pace. I didn’t want to listen. I knew the triggers to their rows and the cost of things was always one of them.
I went straight up to my room and thought about running through my vocal exercises or some songs, but I didn’t feel like singing. Not one bit. Not even a sad song. I called Lal’s mobile to cheer myself up instead.
Switched off.
Huh, I thought. Clearly not missing me one bit, because if he was he’d have his phone switched on every second.
Next I tried Cat.
‘Oh hi, Becca,’ said her dad. ‘You’re in Prague, I believe?’
‘Yeah. Is Cat there?’
‘She’s out with that new friend of hers who’s down from London. TJ,’ said Mr Kennedy. ‘I think a crowd of them have gone down to the beach.’
I felt a stab of jealousy. Cat was my best friend and she was out with this TJ. When I tried her mobile, it was switched off. I hoped she wasn’t going to get taken over by this new girl.
I called Lia. Luckily she was at home but all she did was gush about TJ and her mates and how they were all going up to Barton Hall for lunch tomorrow.
‘And Lal and his sister too?’
‘Yeah, both of them I think,’ said Lia. ‘They’re all so cool. Like really good fun. TJ’s other mates, Nesta and Izzie, arrived last night. Nesta is so gorgeous and so is Izzie, but in a different way. You’re going to really like them.’
Oh, am I? I asked myself after I’d hung up. I’m not so sure. They all sound full of themselves to me. Just because they’re from a big city, everyone is falling-over-themselves impressed. Well, they’re going to have to do a bit more than just turn up to get in with me!
Dad won over where we were going to eat and, after baths and getting dolled and perfumed up, we went to a restaurant further along the river from our hotel. Mum looked lovely, dressed in a long, black linen dress and red silk wrap and she had her hair loose for a change. I wore my turquoise halter neck, black trousers and strappy high heels.
‘I’m with the best-looking girls in the city,’ said Dad as he ushered us into the restaurant.
Inside was totally gorgeous, like walking into another era, maybe the eighteenth century – old-fashioned-looking anyway. It had floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on to the river, lush, green velvet curtains and chandeliers that looked like they must have cost a fortune even though they weren’t switched on. The room was candlelit. There were white linen cloths on the tables, which were set with crystal and silver. I felt like I was on the set of a costume drama and should be wearing a long dress and choker and dancing the waltz.
‘Soooo posh,’ I whispered to Dad. ‘Good choice.’ I was born to be very rich, I thought as a waitress showed us our table. I feel so comfortable in places like this.
‘It’s what we deserve, Duchess,’ Dad whispered back.
The food was scrummy, but there could have been a bit more of it and I still felt hungry afterwards. Tiny bits of yummy stuff were brought on enormous white plates. Little bites of interesting tastes, arranged like works of art. It seemed a shame to ruin the design by eating them. Then more pistachio crème brulée – it must be a Prague speciality – and little chocolates with coffee served in dinky little cups afterwards.
Externally everything was tip-top beautiful and elegant but the atmosphere between Mum and Dad was awful – so cold. It wasn’t like they were arguing or being nasty. They were being polite like: ‘Please pass the butter’, ‘Thanks’, ‘Would you like some more water?’. It was horrible. I prattled on to fill the silences, talking about where we’d been and about people we’d seen. And they listened and responded to me but not to each other. They didn’t even make eye contact. They’d clearly had an almighty great row when I was on the phone in my room and getting ready for dinner.
Later that night when I snuggled down in my gorgeous princess’s bed, I felt very small and alone and had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that something in my life was about to change and I wasn’t going to like it.
ON SUNDAY, IT WAS OBVIOUS that Mum and Dad hadn’t kissed and made up. At breakfast, the silent atmosphere was worse than ever, and I had run out of things to say.
‘Your mum and I thought you might like some girlie shopping time together this morning,’ said Dad.
‘And this afternoon, I thought you might like to do a river trip with your dad,’ said Mum.
I nodded, kept my head down and concentrated on my croissant. Message understood. Things were so bad between them that they didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary together, even though we were supposed to be on a family break. They’ll sort things out when we get back to England and familiar territory, I tried to convince myself. It had been a mistake to think that three days in a different place would solve matters between them.
However, even though I told myself that everything would work itself out when they got back home and into their usual routines, I couldn’t help but feel depressed. This was meant to be Dad’s special treat to celebrate his book deal and he looked as fed up as I was. It didn’t even cheer me up when the Czech prince waiter brought me a second croissant and smiled at me in a flirty way after Mum and Dad had left the table.
Mum did her best to be bright and cheerful when we hit the shops, enthusing over this top, those trousers, a pair of sandals and so on, trying to help me choose an outfit for the festival. And for once she didn’t quibble about the price of anything. She bought me a fab pair of white cowboy boots and didn’t bat an eyelid when the sales assistant told her the cost.
I tried my best to get in the shopping mood. We used to have great days together when I was younger browsing and trying things on, but it felt all wrong this time and I couldn’t help but feel that I was being bought off.
In the afternoon, Dad hid behind his nerdy tourist persona and gave me a running commentary on where we were, what had happened and when. He had really swotted up on his history and it was funny when other tourists started listening to him more than the boat tour guide. It was nice being out on the water and seeing Prague from a boat, but I couldn’t help but think that surely Mum would have enjoyed this trip too. Something big was going on. The bad feeling in the pit of my stomach was still there and it didn’t get any better when Mum feigned a headache that night so Dad and I had to eat alone in a restaurant in the square. Exactly the kind of place that she had wanted to go to the night before.
We talked about everything but what was happening. School, me going into Year Ten next year, local gossip, the state of the world, what I wanted to do when I grew up, Dad’s book . . . But it was as if there was a giant elephant towering over us and we were both doing our utmost to ignore it. Part of me desperately wanted to ask what was going on, but another part feared what the answer might be. That part won.
The following morning when we flew back to Bristol, it wasn’t soon enough for me. Mum and Dad were still doing the polite-stranger act and it made me want to scream. I think I’d have preferred that they argued. At least it would have meant that they were communicating.
We arrived home about three in the afternoon and I’d already texted ahead to Lal, Cat and Lia.
Lal was waiting outside for me at the house as we drew up.
‘Ah. It’s loverboy,’ said Dad, attempting a smile.
As soon as I’d dumped my stuff in our hall, I was out the door again and off with Lal. Neither Mum nor Dad objected, even though usually when we were back from a trip, they would insist that we sort out washing, settle back in and get readjusted.
Lal and I headed down towards the Italian gardens at
Cremyl and it was such a relief to be away from the awkward atmosphere. It had been suffocating. Lal was so pleased to see me and, as soon as he could, he pulled me behind a bush for a reunion snog.
‘I have been doing my research while you’ve been away,’ he said with a grin. ‘All the places where we can hang out without being seen. I’ve sussed out about ten places all over the peninsula.’
He launched in to kiss me and I responded for a while, but ultimately, I wasn’t in the mood. I pushed him away after about twenty minutes.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
I shrugged. ‘Nothing. Just . . . let’s walk for a bit . . .’
He grabbed my hand and we walked through the maze of hedges and out to an area which overlooked the sea and the naval base over at Plymouth.
Lal filled me in on what he’d been doing while I was away and I heard all about TJ and Lucy and Izzie and Nesta and I swear he blushed when he mentioned Nesta.
‘You fancy Nesta, don’t you?’ I blurted.
‘Do not,’ he said and then paused for thought. ‘Actually I do. Who wouldn’t? Wait until you see her. I’d be mad not to. She’s drop-dead gorgeous . . .’
I was about to clout him when he added, ‘Like you.’
We lay on the grass and stared at the sky and snogged a bit more, but I couldn’t get over the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong. My mind was in an overdrive of dark thoughts. What was going to happen? Would there ever be other holiday breaks? Would I ever want to go on them? What was happening with Mum and Dad? And that led to all sorts of other questions. What was love? Did it ever last? What do you have to do to make it last? I glanced over at Lal. He looked like he was thinking deeply about life and stuff too.
I turned on to my side and propped myself up on my elbow. ‘What are you thinking about?’ I asked as I traced his profile with my index finger.
‘Oh you know,’ he said. ‘Whether to get an ice cream on the way back, vanilla or chocolate. Why? What were you thinking about?’
‘Life. The love lottery. Is it luck or chance that you meet the right person? What life’s all about? Do you ever think about stuff like that?’
Lal let out a guffaw. He soon stopped when he saw that I wasn’t laughing. ‘Oh! You were serious?’ He coughed and made his face go straight. And then he started laughing again. He pushed me over, climbed on top of me, pinned my arms down with his knees and started tickling me. I wriggled beneath him and fought back for a while and when I stopped, he lay flat on top of me and kissed me.
As we lay there snogging, I realised that something had changed in me over the last few days. Now I needed someone to talk to who could listen, understand and be sympathetic. It clearly wasn’t going to be Lal Lovering. All he wanted to do was get physical. Shame there’s not an older more mature version of you, I thought, as eventually we got up and headed back.
As we got near to our house, I couldn’t face going in. I was about to turn to Lal and ask if I could go back to Mac’s with him when I saw the front door open and Dad came out carrying a case. For a moment, I felt confused. We’d only just got back and he’d taken the cases out of the car so why was he putting a case back in the boot?
I darted behind a bush and pulled Lal with me so that we couldn’t be seen. He took this as a signal for a secret snog session, but I swiftly elbowed him in the abdomen and pushed him out of the way so that I could see.
Lal clutched my arm and bent over in pain. ‘Wha—?’
‘Shhhhh!’ I urged as I watched Dad get into the car. He put his hands on the steering wheel and stayed there for a few minutes staring into space.
Then he started the engine up, backed out of the driveway and drove off.
‘WHERE’S HE GONE?’ I demanded when I got inside.
‘Oh . . . Becca. You’re back,’ Mum replied. She was in the kitchen putting laundry into the washing machine. ‘Er . . . he’s just gone to stay with a friend for a . . .’
‘What friend? Why? When will he be back?’
‘I don’t know. But he hasn’t—’
‘What did you say to him that made him leave?’
Mum sighed. ‘Nothing.’
‘But you must have. I saw him take a case. He’s never done that before. What’s going to happen? Are you splitting up?’
Mum glanced at the window and I followed her gaze and noticed that Lal was hovering in the garden.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ I blurted and got up and went out to find him. I pointed at the gate. ‘Lal. Go. Later.’
Lal looked taken aback and for a second an expression of hurt flashed across his face. He nodded and gave me the thumbs-up. ‘Right . . . OK. Later,’ he mumbled. He gave me a forced grin, then he turned on his heel and headed off.
Holy crapoly, I thought as I watched him droop away with his jeans almost falling off his hips and those stooped shoulders of his, now I’ve upset him. I considered running after him and explaining but realised that I didn’t know myself what was going on. I’d sort it with him later. I went back into Mum.
She had made herself a cup of tea and was sitting gazing out the window. She had the same look on her face that Dad had when I saw him sitting in the car before he drove off. Sad. Weary. Shocked.
‘So where are we going to live? Are we going to have to sell up? I guess we will. Where will Dad live? Why has he gone and not you?’
Mum’s eyes shone with tears when I said that, but I couldn’t help myself. My world was crumbling and I was starting to feel major panic. ‘Nothing’s been decided yet for definite,’ said Mum. ‘Your dad went because . . . Oh Becca, you must know that things haven’t been right for a long time now.’
‘I know that you nag Dad a lot when all he’s been trying to do is make things right.’
Mum’s mouth tightened. ‘I can’t talk about this now, Becca. Go to your room.’
‘Go to my room! I haven’t even done anything and you’re grounding me?’
‘I’m not grounding you. I . . . I . . . Before he went, your dad and I agreed we would talk to you about this together.’
‘Which is why he drove away, is it? Doesn’t look like talking about it together to me. Why has he gone and not you?’
‘Because he can work from anywhere and I need to be near Plymouth.’
With those words, I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. Dad had left us. Not just Mum. He’d left me too.
I didn’t want to talk any more either and ran upstairs to my bedroom where I slammed and locked the door. I fell on the bed and stared at the ceiling. So now we all look the same, I thought. Mum staring out the kitchen window. Dad staring out the car window. And me staring at the ceiling. There was nothing to look forward to in my life. Holidays are supposed to be a fun time, but so far, this summer had sucked. Even the thought of the festival at Maker fields didn’t fill me with any enthusiasm and I’d been looking forward to that as a gold star spot in my diary for months. Singing was the last thing I felt like doing at the moment.
I really needed someone to talk to.
I tried Cat. Her dad told me she was out with TJ.
I tried Lia. She was out with Squidge.
I tried Mac. He was out with Lucy, Izzie and Nesta.
My world is falling apart, I thought. Even my friends are moving on without me. All out with the London girls – so cool. So sophisticated. I hate them. I bet all their parents are still together.
I wanted to cry, but no tears would come.
I wanted to scream, but no sound would come.
I wanted . . . wanted to stop feeling like this. Stretched to the limit from the inside out. Upside down. And sideways. Feeling like I was about to burst. And empty. All at the same time.
I wanted to talk to Dad. If Mum wouldn’t talk to me, maybe he would. I was about to go downstairs when I heard the sound of Mum’s voice. She was talking to someone on the phone. I crept to the top of the stairs and stayed as quiet as I could so I could listen.
‘. . . taking it very
badly,’ she was saying. ‘She’s very close to Ian.’
There was a pause as she listened to someone on the other end.
‘No. Neither of us want it to get unpleasant or have to use lawyers as we all know that they would be the only ones who would benefit. No. We’re going to try and sort it out between us.’
Pause.
‘No. I think it’s too late for that.’
Mum must have felt my presence, because she glanced up and saw me at the top of the stairs. ‘I’ve got to go,’ she said into the phone. ‘Becca’s here. Yes. I will. Thanks. Bye.’
She put the phone down and came to the bottom of the stairs.
‘How could he just go like that?’ I asked. ‘Without even saying goodbye?’
‘Your dad? But he’ll be back in the morning. I was trying to tell you. He’s gone to stay with Mike Peterson over in Kingsand for the night. He’ll be back in the morning. We . . . we just needed a bit of space to clear our heads.’
I couldn’t help but notice how tired Mum looked and for a moment, I felt sorry for her and for the things I’d said.
‘Can I have his number?’ I asked.
‘He’ll be here in the morning, love,’ she said. ‘In the meantime, unpack your things and we’ll sort everything out tomorrow.’
I went back to my room and lay back down on the bed. I’m going to run away, I thought. That will show them.
I imagined their reactions when they realised that I’d gone. I’d go to Brighton. I’ve always wanted to go there. Or up to London. Or even back to Bristol, where we used to live before Dad lost his job in advertising. If I went missing, they might realise what an almighty mistake this was and make more of an effort. But was it an almighty mistake? They hadn’t got on for months. Maybe even longer. Still I didn’t have to be a part of it. As I planned my escape route and what I’d need to take, I closed my eyes and in seconds, I was asleep.
The next morning when I woke up, sunlight was streaming through my curtains and I was about to snuggle back down when I remembered. My life wasn’t the same any more. My parents were breaking up. We’d probably have to move house. Dad might move away. I might have to leave my friends. I felt hollow inside. Nothing was certain any more.
Love Lottery Page 5