by Jack Higgins
The cold autumn sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows of the tombstones across the churchyard. Jade and Rich stood together a little way from the grave.
“She should have looked the right way,” Jade said. “She was always warning us, telling us to be careful. Not to be in too much of a rush.”
“Don’t blame her,” Rich told her.
“I’m not,” Jade protested. “It’s just…” She sniffed and looked away. “She should have looked.”
The man from the back of the church was talking to the priest and Mrs Gilpin. There was another woman with them, a middle-aged woman with dyed hair. Rich knew she was with the Social Services. She was supposed to be looking after him and Jade until someone decided what to do with them. He couldn’t remember her name and he didn’t care.
“Who is that man?” Jade said. “I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before.”
Rich shrugged. “More Social Services.”
“Why are they here?” Jade said.
“We can’t stay with the Gilpins for ever.”
Jade stared at him, her tear-stained face framed by her long blonde hair.
Rich sighed and went on: “Didn’t you hear him last night, going on at her again about how she can’t be expected to look after us and it isn’t fair on him?”
“Maybe we can go back to New York,” Jade said. “Stay with Charmaine and her family.”
“Yeah, right,” Rich muttered. “Like one of your old school friends is going to take us both in.”
The woman from the Social Services was shaking the strange man’s hand. She glanced over at Rich and Jade, then walked quickly away. The man seemed to gather himself, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath that made his chest heave. Then he and Mrs Gilpin came over to where the twins were standing.
“Hello,” the man said. His voice was deep and rich, and he tried to smile. He reached his hand out towards Rich, such a natural gesture that Rich found himself taking the man’s hand and shaking it. The man’s grip was firm and confident.
Rich felt his insides turn to water as the man introduced himself.
“John Chance,” he said. “I’m your father.”
They sat at the back of the church while the priest tidied things away and worked in the vestry.
“How can you be our dad?” Jade demanded as soon as they sat down.
“Why should we believe you?” Rich asked.
“It’s as much of a shock for me too,” Chance said.
“Why didn’t Mum say anything?” Jade asked. “We didn’t even know she’d been married.”
“It was a long time ago,” Chance said. “Sixteen years. I came home one day and she was gone. She left a note, but it didn’t say much. I assumed I’d hear – from her lawyers if not from Sandy herself.”
“No one called her Sandy,” Jade said. “Mum hated it.”
“I’m sorry,” Chance said. “Until last week I really didn’t know anything. Then I got a call from Mrs Gilpin. Apparently, your mother left a letter with her – in case anything happened to her.”
Chance smiled, but it looked strained. “I did love your mother very much,” he said. “I believed she loved me.”
“Believed?” Jade prompted.
Chance turned away.
“She never asked for a divorce – she even carried on using my name. We’re still married.” He hesitated, realising his mistake. “Were still married. That’s partly why you’re in my care.”
“I’m sorry if it’s spoiled your day,” Jade said sharply.
“That isn’t what I meant,” he said.
“I guess it’s a shock for you too,” Rich said. He still had his hand on Jade’s shoulder. She put her hand over the top of it.
“Just a bit,” Chance confessed. “But, look – we’ll make it work. I’m in the middle of some business right now, quite intense stuff. But that should be over soon. By the end of term, when you come home, we’ll be able to spend some time and sort out where we go from here, OK?”
“Come home?” Rich echoed. “You mean we’re staying up here till the end of term?”
“With the Gilpins?” Jade asked. “While you go back to London?”
Chance looked awkward. “Not exactly. That isn’t what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean, Dad?” Jade asked.
“Look, I haven’t exactly had time to plan this,” Chance told them. “I live in a tiny flat right now. It’s hardly big enough for me, let alone the three of us. And I’m working all the hours God sends. I can’t get you to and from school and cook your meals and look after you and—”
“And change our nappies?” Rich said. “We’re fifteen. We can cope. Mum worked, you know.”
“We’ll discuss it at the end of term, all right?” Chance said.
“And where will we be in the mean time?” Rich wanted to know. “In some poky flat that’s too small for us all?”
But Jade was staring open-mouthed at Chance. “No way. Absolutely no way at all, ever, on this earth.” She looked round at Rich.
And he realised what she had already guessed. “Boarding school is right out,” he agreed. “Not if it’s the last school on the planet.”
“Just till the end of this term,” Chance told them. “Till I can spend some time with you and work this out.”
“No way,” Jade said.
“Never,” Rich told him.
Chance stood up. His voice was quiet, but Rich could sense an undercurrent of determination. “I’m not asking you. I’m your father and I have to decide. I’m sorry, but that’s how it has to work. End of debate.”
“That wasn’t a debate,” Rich said. “A debate involves two points of view and a decision based on the arguments. That didn’t happen.”
“You just decided for us,” Jade added. “You’ve only just met us and already you can’t wait to get rid of us.”
“I’m not talking about it,” Chance said. “Because you’re right – there is no debate. It’s decided.”
“Oh – so suddenly you know what’s best for us?” Jade said. She stood up and glared at Chance. “You abandon us and Mum sixteen years ago and now you’re back and you know best? I don’t think so.”
“Wait a minute,” Rich said. “Sixteen years ago. We weren’t even born then.”
“You didn’t even wait till we were born?”
“Now hold on. Sandy – Sandra,” Chance corrected himself quickly, “left me. It wasn’t my decision. I’d never have left her. Even if…” He stopped abruptly.
“Even if what?” Rich asked.
Chance took a deep breath. “Until yesterday, I didn’t know where your mother had gone, what she’d been doing. Until yesterday, I didn’t know I was a father.”
* * *
No one spoke all the way to the Gilpins’ house. Chance parked the car in a space outside the house next door – outside the rented house that Rich and Jade had lived in for the last few weeks with their mother. Jade doubted he even realised.
“Everything’s going into storage,” Chance explained. “We can sort through all your stuff later, decide what you want.”
“At the end of term, right?” Jade said.
Mr Gilpin answered the door. He shook hands with Chance and muttered something about condolences. He glared at Rich and ignored Jade. He stepped inside and gestured for them to come into the hallway.
Several boxes and carrier bags were lined up against the wall. Jade could see her own clothes spilling out of one of the bags. School books shoved in a box. Rich’s best trainers in another.
“We could have packed our own stuff,” she said.
Mr Gilpin looked away. “Thought you’d be in a hurry to be off.”
“Someone’s in a hurry all right,” Rich said.
“I’d like to say goodbye to Mrs Gilpin,” Jade said. “We didn’t really get a chance at the church.”
Mr Gilpin turned away. “She’s not here. Gone out. Shut the door behind you.”
Chance lif
ted one of the boxes. “I think we’d best be going,” he said.
As they drove away, Jade watched the net curtains of the front room twitch.
Rich sat in the front and Jade sat in the back of the car.
Jade could see that Chance had angled the mirror so he could watch her. Was he keeping an eye on her? she wondered. Or did he just want to look at the children he hadn’t known he had for the past fifteen and a half years? What did he think? What did he see beyond two fair-haired teenagers with similar features, similar slim build? Only their hair distinguished them – Jade’s was long over her shoulders while Rich’s was short, off his collar and slightly spiky.
“So, tell me about yourselves,” Chance said, trying to be cheerful. “What do you like to do with your time?”
“Get driven about in cars that go too fast,” Jade said.
Chance’s laugh sounded strained, but he eased off the speed slightly. “Right. Anything else?”
Jade slumped back in the seat, looking out of the window as they passed most of the other vehicles on the road.
“I like reading,” Rich said. “I read anything, but mostly I like to find out about stuff. How things work. That sort of thing. Telly’s good too. Hey,” he thought suddenly, “do you have a PlayStation?”
“Sorry. Got a DVD player and a laptop. That’s about it. What about you, Jade?”
She continued to stare out of the window. “I like doing things, not reading about them. Is there a gym near you?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Figures.”
Chance laughed again, only this time it sounded more genuine. “I keep pretty fit, you know.”
“You think,” Jade muttered.
“And my hearing’s fine,” he said. “You into that fitness stuff then?”
“A bit.”
“And then some,” Rich said. “She works out. Runs. She eats loads of fruit and vegetables. Drinks loads of bottled water.”
“It’s good for you,” Jade protested. “You have to look after yourself. Healthy body, healthy mind.”
“Quite right,” Chance agreed.
“Don’t patronise me,” she told him.
“I was agreeing with you.”
“Well, don’t.”
“You’d rather I disagreed with you?” he asked.
“I’d rather you stopped pretending,” Jade replied.
They lapsed into silence.
Jade stared out of the window and Rich turned his head to whisper to her over his shoulder.
“It’ll be OK,” he told her. “We’ll get through this; it won’t be so bad. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? Apart from boarding school?”
“I just want Mum back,” Jade said, her eyes filling with tears once again.
Chance was fumbling in his pockets as he drove fast and confident down the outside lane. He pulled something out and Jade’s expression changed at once – first to surprise and then anger.
Chance was trying to shake a cigarette out of a packet. He caught a glimpse of Jade’s face in the rearview mirror.
“I’m gasping,” he told her.
Jade wiped her eyes and glared at him.
Chance put the packet back into his pocket.
2
It was dark by the time they reached Chance’s flat. It was on the second floor of a Victorian terraced house. The outside looked grim and dilapidated. Paint was peeling from the window frames by the door, and the stone steps were chipped and stained.
But once inside it was very different. There was a small lift at the end of a wide hallway and a staircase wound up round the lift shaft. Chance heaved open the heavy metal grille door across the lift.
“Leave that open and the lift won’t move,” he explained. “Gives us time to put all your luggage inside.”
They piled the boxes and bags inside, almost filling the floor space in the small lift. Chance reached in through the door to press the button for the second floor, then he heaved the grill across again – leaving the three of them outside. The lift started to move.
“We could have squeezed inside,” Rich protested.
“But Jade wants us to keep fit,” Chance said. “Come on – we have to get there before the lift.” He took the stairs two at a time with practised ease.
“He’ll be wheezing before he gets there,” Jade said, running up the stairs. Rich sighed and followed at a more leisurely pace.
They dumped the last load of stuff into the hallway of Chance’s flat. Chance himself had disappeared inside already. “Was he wheezing?” Rich asked.
“Expect so,” Jade said. “Didn’t notice.”
“That’s a ‘no’ then,” Rich said.
There were three doors from the hallway. The first door led into the kitchen, the next into a living room. At the end of the hall was a toilet. Chance appeared from the kitchen and led the twins through to the living room. It looked like a show home – hardly any furniture, just a sofa and a low coffee table. A television and DVD player stood against one wall, beside an old fireplace, but there were no magazines or books or ornaments. The room was painted a uniform white that made it seem even more impersonal. The only sign of life was the ashtray on the coffee table – full of butt ends of smoked cigarettes. It gave the room a stale, unpleasant smell. A single picture hung on the wall opposite the door. It showed a steam train speeding through the countryside – a sleek, blue engine with a sloping front. In the foreground was a pond with ducks swimming on it.
“That’s clever,” Rich told Jade, pointing at the picture.
“Why?”
“Because the engine is called Mallard.”
She shook her head, none the wiser.
“Mallard is a sort of duck,” Chance said, joining them.
“Where’s my room?” Jade asked.
He pointed. “Through there, on the right.”
“And mine?” Rich asked.
“Same place. Same room.”
“You’re kidding,” Jade said.
“We don’t share. We’re fifteen,” Rich added.
“There are only two bedrooms,” Chance told him.
“Why can’t Rich share with you?” Jade asked. “Boys together?”
Chance shook his head. “Because I’m sleeping on the sofa in here and there’s only room on it for one. There are a couple of single beds in there.”
“You said there were two bedrooms,” Rich reminded him.
“I’m using the other one as a study. I have to work. You get a bedroom and beds; I get a study and the sofa. That’s the best deal I can give you.”
“That’s no deal,” Jade said.
“A deal is something that’s agreed between two or more parties,” Rich said.
“And do you know what a pedant is?” Chance asked.
“Yes, I do actually. It’s—”
“I know what it is,” Chance told him.
“Then why did you ask?” Rich asked.
“Dad’s little joke,” Jade told him. She shot a glance at Chance. “Very little joke. Come on.” She led Rich through to the bedroom.
The room was bare apart from two single beds, two bedside cabinets and a mirror on one wall.
“No place like home,” Jade said.
“And this is certainly no place like home,” Rich agreed. “Let’s get our stuff. Must have some posters or something to liven the place up.”
The room that Chance was using as a study was opposite their bedroom door. Jade pushed it open and they looked inside. It was a contrast to the rest of the flat.
There was a single desk with a chair beside it. On the desk was an open laptop computer and a telephone. The rest of the desk was covered in piles of paper that extended to the floor and against the walls – piles of magazines and books. A bookshelf strained under the weight of files and heavy books.
“Oil industry stuff,” Rich said, glancing at some of the titles. “Did he tell us he worked in the oil industry?”
“He’s hardly told us anything
,” Jade said. She walked over to the desk.
“We shouldn’t really be here,” Rich said, following hesitantly.
“You’re telling me.” She pointed to a small box attached to the telephone wire. It was about the size of a cigarette packet, plain grey plastic with several buttons on one side. “What’s that? A modem?”
“Don’t think so,” Rich said. “Weird-looking thing.”
“I know what this is though,” Jade announced, grabbing a sheet of paper from beside the phone. “Look – a list of schools. Boarding schools I bet. He’s been crossing them off. God, he’s already trying to get rid of us.”
“What are you doing in here?” Chance asked. He was standing at the door to the study.
“Just having a look around,” Jade said.
“Look – I think we have to have certain rules around here, and one of them is that you never come into my study.”
“But we’re your kids!”
“I’m sorry, but those are the rules,” he said. He put his arm out, gesturing for them to leave the room.
“Come on,” Rich said. He took the sheet of paper from his sister and put it back on the desk. He glanced down the two columns of names – some of the schools he recognised. “There are two lists here,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Jade asked.
“Come on now,” Chance said.
“Two lists,” Rich repeated. “As in two sets of boarding schools. As in boys’ schools and girls’ schools.”
“No way. Oh, no way on earth,” Jade said.
“You’re not splitting us up,” Rich agreed. He turned angrily to face his father. “Jade and me – we’ve got nothing except each other. You’re not taking that from us too.”
Rich was slumped on the sofa, watching the telly. It was a cartoon and he wasn’t interested, but it was better than listening to Chance, who was sitting on the floor talking to him.
“I tried mixed schools first. Of course I did. But none of them had two spaces in the same year group.”
“So you just thought you’d split us up,” Rich said.
“What was I supposed to do?” Chance asked.
Rich said nothing. He turned up the volume of the television.