‘I can’t believe you did that,’ I said. ‘That took some nerve. If someone had caught me I’d have been mortified.’
‘That’s why I didn’t ask you to come with me,’ Zoe said, pressing the lid back down on the tin.
‘Right.’ I looked at the bag. ‘What about all this other stuff?’
‘You can get it all online. Pretty cheap, too. Well, most of it is. The chalice was expensive.’ The chalice was the fancy cup, she said.
‘How did you get the money?’
Zoe looked at her hands and flicked away some dirt. ‘I had a birthday, remember?’
I frowned at her. This birthday money seemed to be lasting forever, but Zoe never said who’d actually given her all this cash. I blinked and shook my head: I decided I didn’t really want to know.
My mum asked Zoe if she wanted her to walk home with her, just to make sure she was OK. Outside, there was a blustery, bullying wind, and more rain. Zoe wouldn’t have it, though. ‘It’s fine, Mrs Ellis, really. I’m a big girl.’
‘I know that. I’d just hate anything to happen to you.’ My mum is a bit of a fretter. ‘I’m sure your mum would feel the same if Anna was walking home from your house.’
Zoe looked doubtful. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll text Anna as soon as I get back.’
And she did. I sat with Mum watching a bit of bad TV and after a few minutes my phone bleeped. Home safe n sound. Tell yr lovely mum. I held the message up and Mum smiled.
‘Is Zoe –’ Mum stopped and stared into her mug of tea.
I looked at her. ‘What?’
‘Is she quite all right?’
I screwed my face up at Mum. ‘What do you mean, is she quite all right? What does that mean?’
Mum shook her head. ‘I don’t really know, Anna. But there’s something about that girl. She seems very –’ Mum stopped again.
‘Very what?’
‘Sort of sad.’
I made another face. ‘I don’t think so, Mum. No.’
Mum pressed her lips together. ‘It’s like she’s about to snap. About to break into little bits.’
I put my mug down. ‘I don’t know what you mean. But I think you’re wrong, anyway. Zoe is as tough as anything. It’s one of the reasons why I like her.’
Mum shrugged. ‘If you say so.’
I kept Mum talking as long as I could. For some reason that I couldn’t put into words, I really didn’t want to go up to my room. Eventually, though, Mum said she could hardly keep her eyes open and ordered me to go to bed too. I padded up the stairs barefoot and as soon as I went into my room I felt grit under my toes. I remembered I hadn’t quite got all that soil off the carpet. I brushed the last of it as best I could into a tiny pile, picked it up in a tissue and threw it into my bin. It made me feel uneasy, even though I knew that it was only a bit of dirt. It surely didn’t matter where it had come from.
But lying in bed, I felt a bit like I remembered feeling as a little kid, when I’d been told a spooky story. If something had frightened me, I could never settle afterwards. It was like the telling of it made it real and might make the same thing happen to me. I didn’t dare close my eyes. It felt as if there were shadows moving around my room. I kept sitting up and glancing at the wardrobe where Zoe’s bag was hidden, as if something was going to jump out of it. I imagined I could hear strange sounds, although my head told me they were only the usual ones, like the heating pipes winding down and Mum’s footsteps creaking as she put things away and got ready for bed. A sudden gust of wind sent raindrops smattering across the window pane, like a handful of little stones, and I leapt out of bed and pulled back the curtain. For a second, I thought I saw a shadow at my shoulder and I whipped around with a little gasp. There was no one else in the room, of course. I turned back to the glass and peered at it. All I could see was my own moon-faced reflection in the bedroom window.
12
Parents’ Night
A fretful sleep full of unremembered dreams meant I was tired and fuggy-headed again the next morning. Kerry lolloped alongside us as usual and her perkiness was so grating that I felt I was seeing her through Zoe’s eyes.
‘Is your mum coming to Parents’ Night?’ Kerry asked.
I groaned. ‘Tell me that’s not tonight.’
‘Yes, of course it is. We had a letter ages ago.’
I glanced at Zoe, who made a murderous, eye-popping face at the back of Kerry’s head. ‘Rats. I forgot to mention it,’ I said. ‘My mum’ll go mad if she misses it, though.’
‘She’ll get a text from the school today to remind her,’ Kerry said. ‘New system. They told us about it in assembly, remember?’
I shrugged. I couldn’t remember. ‘So Mum will definitely find out? Great. She’ll kill me for not reminding her before.’ I looked past Kerry at Zoe. ‘What about your mum?’
Zoe looked at me as if I was crazy. ‘She never comes to these things. I’m glad to say.’
‘Lucky you.’ Kerry gave a snorty laugh. ‘They always tell my parents how I forget things and how useless I am at all the arty subjects and at games. Then I get a lecture about trying harder. I hate it.’
I hadn’t been at the school long enough to know what its Parents’ Evenings were like, but I could imagine. At my last school, Mum always insisted on going along to them and she went a bit sappy in front of the teachers, as if they were important or scary or something.
‘Why doesn’t your mum come then?’ I asked Zoe.
‘Don’t ask me why my mum does anything. Or doesn’t do anything.’ I could tell it was one of those questions that Zoe was not prepared to answer. Kerry pressed her a bit longer, but Zoe was amazing at batting the questions away. She should be a politician, I thought, she’s so good at that.
Sure enough, Mum ran in the door at five-thirty and the first thing she said was, ‘You could’ve told me about Parents’ Night. I can’t make something to eat till we get back.’
‘You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,’ I suggested. ‘Zoe’s mum never bothers, she says.’
‘You wish,’ Mum said, standing in front of the mirror at the bottom of the stairs and patting powder onto her forehead. ‘Anyway, Dad’ll be on his way by now.’
‘Dad?’ I stared at her reflection. ‘Dad’s coming?’ Dad used to leave all this to Mum when they were together.
Mum pulled a lipstick out of her bag. She glanced at it, dropped it back in her bag and rummaged around for a different one. ‘I sent him a message just to let him know and he said he’d like to come along. I couldn’t see why not.’
‘Right.’ I was still thinking about this when Dad rang the doorbell. I opened the door and he held up his hands, saying: ‘I’m on my own, OK?’
I folded my arms. ‘Glad to hear it. But how bad do things have to be if you’d rather be at Parents’ Night than out with your girlfriend?’
‘Watch it.’ Dad gave Mum a smile. ‘You look very nice.’
Mum gave him a bit of a smirk back and we got in the car. I was watching them closely. Something had made them call a truce from all the fighting and sniping. Was it because of me? Or was it anything to do with Zoe and her spirits?
We pulled up in the school car park and as we got out of the car, I could hear shouting. A small crowd of kids and parents were huddled close to the main door, watching whatever was causing the row. As we edged closer, I saw Zoe, standing still, her eyes closed as her mum screamed at her. Zoe’s mum’s words were slurred and almost too loud to make out, but she was yelling something about school, about not being told what was going on, about getting the blame for all Zoe’s problems. Some of the kids were sniggering. Dad put an arm around my shoulders and I looked up at him, willing him to do something, to rescue poor Zoe who was as still as a dummy in a shop window, her eyes still screwed shut.
Maybe it was because Zoe was refusing to react or even look a
t her, but her mum was getting more and more furious. Suddenly she leaned forward and pushed at Zoe, hard in the chest, making her stagger backwards. There was a loud gasp from the little audience. That was when my dad stepped in, pushing his way to the front of the small crowd and taking Zoe’s mum by the arm.
‘That’s enough, now,’ he said. ‘Let’s end the show, shall we?’
Zoe’s mum swore at him and tried to shake him off, but she was unsteady on her own feet and he easily steered her away towards a bench, where she sat heavily down. Dad sat with her and started to talk, in his low, calm voice. Mum and I rushed up to Zoe and I put my arms around her.
‘Are you all right, love?’ Mum asked. Zoe nodded, though I could feel her trembling and her face, next to mine, was burning.
‘What happened?’ I stroked Zoe’s hair.
Zoe shrugged. ‘She’s just being my mum. That’s what she’s like. She got a message from school and they said something about poor attendance. She lost her rag.’ She paused and sniffed. ‘It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.’
I glared at anyone passing who dared to look twice at us. After a few minutes, my dad came up to Zoe. ‘I think your mum’s calmed down a bit, but she needs to go home. Can I give you a lift?’
Zoe shook her head. ‘The walk will do her good.’
‘You’re not going home with her?’ I looked from Mum to Dad. ‘She can’t. She pushed Zoe. She might –’
Dad put a hand on my shoulder. ‘We can’t get too involved, Anna. We have to let Zoe and her mum sort this out now.’
‘But –’
‘It’s fine,’ Zoe interrupted. ‘Honestly. I’m used to it.’ She looked over to her mum. ‘I’m going home. Coming?’ And she held out a hand.
‘We should go in,’ Mum said to me. ‘We won’t get to see your teachers if we don’t hurry.’
‘Text me,’ I called after Zoe as she strolled away, her mum stumbling along behind her. ‘I mean it. Let me know you’re all right.’
Zoe raised a hand in a kind of salute, but didn’t look back.
My school reports were better than expected, which put both Mum and Dad in a good mood and I think seeing Zoe’s mum’s behaviour made them want to be extra nice to me. Dad even suggested that he’d get us all fish and chips. Suddenly there were three of us round the table, like there used to be. It felt really weird. Good-weird, though. I relaxed a bit when Zoe texted to say her mum was in bed and she was fine and would see me tomorrow.
Dad said he’d stay for a cup of tea and Mum went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. We were in the middle of a chat about some cruddy TV show we’d both been watching when his mobile went off. He glanced at the message and I could tell it was the dreaded Ellie. Wanting to know where he was, I guessed.
Dad just switched it off and put the phone in his pocket. ‘Tell her you’re where you should be, for a change,’ I said. ‘With your daughter.’
Dad looked down at the table. ‘It’s been good tonight, Anna. Let’s not spoil it, eh?’
Mum came in with mugs of tea. She could tell there’d been a change in the air. She looked at me and then at Dad. ‘Everything all right?’
‘His girlfriend’s checking up on him,’ I said.
Dad shook his head and sighed. I felt all hot inside. That Ellie, spoiling things and coming between us all the time. Couldn’t she give us an evening together? I wanted to go to her stupid flat and slap her stupid face.
Dad took a big slurp of tea and winced because it was too hot. He put the mug down and said, ‘I’d better go, anyway. I’ve probably outstayed my welcome.’
‘Can’t she spend a couple of hours without you?’ I said. ‘I’m the one who’s supposed to be the child, not her.’
Mum put her hand on my shoulder and I shook it off. She and Dad looked at each other for a long moment and then Dad picked up his jacket and made for the door. I heard Mum thanking him for the lift and for the chips.
‘Why are you creeping up to him like that?’ I found myself saying, when she sat down and picked up the TV remote. ‘He runs off with a new girlfriend and he totally breaks your heart. And all he has to do is buy a bag of chips and everything’s fine?’
Mum put her arm out, but I wouldn’t sit next to her. I stared up at the ceiling, blinking hard.
‘No, of course everything’s not OK,’ Mum said. ‘But I’m just sick of fighting.’
I stamped my way up the stairs. I suddenly just wanted to get into bed and hide under the duvet. Thing was, ever since I’d hidden Zoe’s bag, my room was seriously giving me the creeps. My own bedroom. I kept thinking I could still feel soil – graveyard dirt – under my feet, but when I checked, the carpet was completely clean. I imagined dark shadows just in the corner of my eye and when I snapped my head round, nothing was there. I got really deep, cold, body shivers that seemed to start on my skin but fill my whole insides with ice. Worst thing was, I knew it had to be my own mad imagination, running away with me. Just because there was a plastic skull and some black candles hidden in my wardrobe. Just because I’d spilled soil on my carpet which was perfectly ordinary soil, except that it came from somewhere bodies were buried. Talk about over-reacting. It’s not like I had an actual dead person in my room with me. It just kind of felt like that, even in daylight, but especially at nights when I was trying to get to sleep. It was then, in the small hours after midnight, when I got my strongest sense of things about to go horribly wrong, a nagging pit-of-the-stomach queasiness that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much I tried to talk myself out of it.
I was relieved to see Zoe the next morning, though she refused to talk about what happened, other than to say she was ‘used to that sort of thing.’ I made sure to be by her side all day and when Maxine came up to make a snipey comment about Zoe’s mum, I swore at her so fiercely she backed off. I was quite proud of it.
Kerry was a bit odd, though. Kind of sniffy and quiet. That was fine with Zoe, because she just took it as the go-ahead to stop talking to Kerry all together. But that shapeless bad feeling I was carrying round with me all the time had a name, for today: what was the matter with Kerry? I guessed it wasn’t because of Zoe’s mum – Kerry hadn’t even seen the incident and didn’t seem interested when I mentioned it. It was more likely to be about the row in The Cut yesterday. Had she told someone something she shouldn’t have?
We soon found out. Kerry wasn’t around at the end of school. I suggested looking in the girls’ cloakrooms for her, but Zoe wouldn’t wait.
‘If Kerry’s not ready then she can’t expect us to hang around in this dump a minute longer than we have to,’ she said. ‘She’s probably buttering up some teacher somewhere. Asking if she can tidy their desk for them. Putting her coat over a puddle so they don’t get their feet wet. Or something.’
We set off for home without her and it did feel really nice. Like we were free of something. It was cool and a bit damp outside, but there was a scent in the air, like cut grass. We could have so much more of a laugh when it was just the two of us. Zoe was telling me how she planned to conjure up an army of demons in the next maths lesson. And I was telling her how my mum and dad had spent an entire evening together without having a fight.
And in the middle of The Cut, someone stepped out in front of us. We both jumped and stopped short. It was Jodie.
‘You gave us a shock,’ Zoe said, although it hardly needed saying.
‘I need to talk to you two,’ Jodie said. She dropped her half-smoked cigarette on the ground and squashed it with her boot, making a short hissing, squelching sound.
‘What’s up?’ Just about everything was making me really anxious at the moment – making my heart thump, giving me shivers.
‘I’ve been talking to your friend,’ she said. ‘Kerry.’
‘What about her?’ Zoe asked.
Jodie glanced around. ‘What the hell is this about you going ar
ound with a knife?’
Zoe’s eyes widened. I don’t think she’d guessed that Kerry would have to blurt things out to someone.
‘We aren’t going around with a knife. Not like that,’ I said.
We could hear footsteps and stepped to the side to make way for a middle-aged man hurrying through The Cut.
‘Can you come to my place?’ Jodie said. ‘I really want to talk to you. But not here, not with all sorts walking past.’
Zoe shook her head. ‘I have to get home.’
‘It’ll only take five minutes,’ Jodie said. ‘Come on.’ She started striding off and it was clear she expected us to follow her.
I nodded my head at Zoe. ‘Let’s get it over with.’
Zoe didn’t budge for a moment.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘We need to know what Kerry’s told her. And whether she’s told anyone else. Like your mum, for instance.’
We trudged after Jodie towards the high-rises and followed her into the reeking lift. It seemed to take forever to rattle its way to the ninth floor.
‘Does anyone live right up on the fourteenth floor?’ I asked, mainly to break the awkward silence.
Jodie gave a little smile. ‘There isn’t really a fourteenth floor.’
‘There’s a fourteen button in the lift,’ I said, as the door slid open and we walked out onto the landing. ‘And my mum always calls this place the Fourteen Storeys.’
‘Yeah, everyone does,’ said Jodie, putting the key in her door, which I noticed had a big gash in the wood, like someone had tried to break it down. ‘The joke is, there are only thirteen floors. But when they were built, no one wanted to live on the thirteenth floor in case it was unlucky. So they changed the button to fourteen. All the door numbers on the top level start with 1-4.’
Zoe laughed. ‘That’s stupid.’
‘Thing is, it’s still unlucky,’ Jodie went on, pulling off her boots beside the doorway. The flat smelled of mould and stale fried food, as usual. ‘That’s where all the suicide cases jump from.’
The Misper Page 9