“Firstly, I really don’t think he can do that. I mean, I know he was some kind of big shot, like back in the seventies…”
“Nineties,” Clementine corrects me.
“Yeah, whatever. He was a big shot in the last century. No, scrap that, in the last millennium, but now he’s nothing but a has-been. When I was trying to find out where you lived I saw all these stories online about him. Apparently no one’s listening to his show any more. He’s just a loser looking for someone to pick on.” I step closer to Clementine and take hold of her arms. “And we’re not going to let him win.”
CLEMENTINE
“Dave gave me this – he thought maybe we’d be interested.” Rudy takes a folded-up flyer from her jeans pocket and hands it to me.
“A street art competition?” I murmur as I scan the words.
“Yep. What do you reckon?”
“You should go for it.”
“What do you mean, me? We should go for it.”
“But how can I? I’ve been banned from seeing you.”
Rudy sighs and I feel horrible. But there’s no way I’d be able to enter any kind of competition with her. It would be way too risky. All of the excitement I felt at seeing her and Tyler has disappeared. They’d be better off carrying on without me.
“Do you want to use my phone to call your dad?” Rudy asks, breaking the awkward silence.
“I can’t. He lives in Germany. It would cost a fortune.”
“Text him my number then. Ask him to call you.”
“I don’t know.” Vincent’s words ring in my mind like one of the annoying jingles from his show. He couldn’t give a shit about you. He didn’t even stay in the same country as you, that’s how little he cares. “I don’t think my dad cares that much, to be honest.”
“What? Why?”
“He lives in Berlin.”
“So? Do people who live there not care about their kids? Is it like a Berlin thing?”
I laugh. “No, it’s not that. It’s…”
“I thought you said you see him most holidays.”
“I do.”
“And he calls you every week.”
I nod.
“That doesn’t look like not caring to me. And trust me, I should know – I’ve got a degree in uncaring dads. No, actually, make that a PhD.”
Rudy’s smiling but I can tell it’s masking years of pain.
“Do you never hear from your dad?”
She shakes her head. “No, never.”
“And you have no idea where he is?”
“Nope.” She looks down at the floor, scuffs the toe of her boot against the counter. “And do you want to know the really pathetic thing?”
“What?”
She pulls a wallet from her pocket, opens it and fishes out a photo. “I still carry this around with me, just in case.” She passes the photo to me. It’s of a man in a pork-pie hat and tight-trousered suit grinning at the camera, his eyes cat-like, just like Rudy’s.
“Just in case?” I ask softly.
“Just in case I ever do see him. So I’ll recognize him,” she says quietly. She takes the photo back and shoves it in the wallet. “Anyway, I know all about having a dad who doesn’t give a shit and your dad doesn’t sound like that, not at all. You need to tell him what’s going on. How can he help you if he doesn’t know the truth?”
I nod. It’s like Rudy is unravelling the knots of confusion Vincent tied me in, helping me find my way back to the truth. I look at her phone, lying on the counter in front of us. “Shall I send him a text then?”
“Yes!” Rudy exclaims.
I grab the phone and type quickly:
Dad, please can you call me on this number immediately. It’s an emergency. Clem xxxx
I put the phone back down and stare at it. Every second that ticks by is a reminder of what Vincent said to me. He … tick … doesn’t … tick … care … tick … about— The phone lights up with an incoming call.
I grab it and answer it. “Dad?”
“Clem? What’s wrong?”
Rudy grins at me.
“Oh, Dad, everything!”
RUDY
As Clementine tells her dad the terrible truth about Vincent – about how he’d taken her phone and banned her from seeing me and how he generally makes her life a misery – I nervously pace up and down the kitchen. For all I know her real dad might not give a damn. But I had to do something, suggest something that might help. I just hope it wasn’t all for nothing.
Clementine falls silent and I hear the tinny echo of a man’s voice on the other end of the phone but I can’t work out what he’s saying. I study Clementine’s face to try and work out if the conversation’s going well. Her eyes start filling with tears. Crap!
“OK,” she says. “No, it belongs to my friend Rudy… Yes, the artist…”
What is he saying? The suspense is practically killing me.
“Thank you… OK… No, no, don’t say anything… OK. Thank you… Love you too.” She ends the call and puts the phone on the counter.
“Well?” I practically yell.
“He was so upset.”
“In a good or bad way?”
“A good way. He’s going to call Mum later. He wants to talk to her about what’s been happening with Vincent and he wants me to come to Berlin next week, during half-term. I hadn’t planned to go, as I’d been auditioning for a dance show and I wasn’t sure if I’d get a part. But I didn’t, so I can.” She smiles at me, her eyes gleaming.
Even though it’s great to see Clementine look happier I feel a sudden pang of sorrow. It must be so nice to have a dad who actually wants to see you, who gets upset when you’re hurting, who tells you he loves you. I notice something flashing on the counter. It’s an incoming call on my phone, but this time from Tyler.
I grab the phone and answer it.
“Where the hell have you been? Enemy incoming!” he yells, like he’s playing Call of Duty. At the other end of the house I hear the front door slamming.
“Oh no!” Clementine gasps. “Quick.” She hurries me into a little room off the kitchen, housing a tumble dryer and washing machine. Thankfully, it also contains a back door, which Clementine unlocks. “You can get to the street down the passageway on the right,” she says, then she grabs me in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispers in my ear. “I’ve really missed you.”
“I’ve really missed you too,” I whisper back.
CLEMENTINE
I race back into the kitchen, my heart pounding. Please, please don’t let it be Vincent. Mum comes in and puts her car keys on the counter. She looks really stressed. Oh no, did she see Rudy coming in?
“You’re back early,” I say, fake calmly.
“I kept thinking about what you said,” Mum says. “About Vincent.”
“Oh?” OK, this is good. She clearly didn’t see Rudy.
Mum looks at me, her expression deadly serious. “I don’t want you to feel like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like he makes me feel – defeated.” She goes over to the fridge and pours us both a glass of juice and takes them over to the table. “How did you and the artist girl get to know each other?”
I instantly feel a prickle of suspicion.
“This isn’t a trap,” she says, as if reading my mind.
“Online.” I go and join her at the table.
“How?”
“I like to write poems inspired by pieces of street art I see in Brighton. I take a photo of the artwork and post it on Instagram with my poem. She was one of the artists I used for inspiration and she saw my post and messaged me.”
“I see.” Mum’s expression is impossible to read.
“She’s really nice, Mum. She’s not a criminal. She’s so talented.”
“I can see that.”
I look at her, puzzled.
“I really liked the artwork she did, at Brighton station… I loved your poem too.”
“Seriously?”
&nb
sp; “Yes.” She takes a sip of her juice. “I feel like I’ve let you down,” she says in a voice so small I can barely hear it.
“What do you mean?”
“I wish I could leave – take you and Damon away from this – from him – but I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“He’s the one with the career, and the money. He told me that if I ever left him I’d never see Damon again, that he’d go to court for full custody.”
So I was right. That was one of the things Vincent’s been threatening Mum with. I’m about to say that there’s no way any right-minded judge would give Vincent full custody but then I remember what he told me about going to the police about Rudy, and how I’d believed him. I have an idea. “Can I show you something? I’ll need to borrow your phone though.”
“Sure.” Mum takes her phone from her handbag and passes it to me.
I do a quick search for my Instagram page and the picture Rudy and I did down by the seafront before it got damaged. “Read this,” I say, zooming in on my poem and handing her the phone.
“Did you – did you do this?” Mum asks.
I nod. “Read the words.”
I wait while Mum reads.
“You wrote this?”
I nod. “You mustn’t believe what he tells you. If you want to leave him you should.”
Mum shakes her head. “I can’t. But there is something I can do.” She stands up. “Wait here.”
I sit in the kitchen, trying to process everything that’s happened this morning. I think of Rudy and Tyler turning up out of the blue. The conversation with Dad. And now Mum finally opening up to me. This morning when I’d woken up, everything had felt so hopeless, like nothing would ever change, but I was wrong. Change can come at any minute – even when you’re least expecting it. Mum reappears in the kitchen.
“Here.” She hands me my phone.
“But what about Vincent?”
“I’ll deal with him.”
“Are you sure?”
Mum nods. “You’re my daughter, not his.” She looks back at her phone, at my Instagram feed. “Your generation are amazing.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re so fearless.”
“We’re not, Mum.”
“But look at what you and your friend did. That takes real courage.”
It’s been so long since I’ve had a conversation like this with Mum that hasn’t been overshadowed by Vincent I don’t really know how to react or what to do.
“Back when I was your age there was this thing called the ladette culture. It was meant to be all about empowering women but nothing really changed. The men still got to be the stars of the show – in Vincent’s case, literally.” Mum sighs. “I was the producer of his show. I was the one who came up with all the ideas that made it such a success. There were loads of talented women at the radio station but most of them were hidden behind the scenes.”
“Couldn’t you do that again? Go back into radio producing?”
“I don’t think so. Vincent says things have really changed.”
Hmm, I bet he does. “Maybe we shouldn’t believe everything Vincent says. I mean, he’s hardly been a huge success on the radio without you, has he?”
I see a flicker of recognition in Mum’s eyes.
“Seriously, Mum. You need to start thinking about you.”
RUDY
As we head out of Clementine’s street Tyler glances across at me. “So, how was she?”
“Not good. And she can’t do the competition with me.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. Her stupid stepdad has banned her from having anything to do with me. He says if she does he’ll call the police on me.”
“What the Jeff!”
“Can you stop saying that!” I snap.
“Hey, what’s up?” Tyler reaches out and touches my arm.
“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.” I slump back in my seat. “I’m sorry.” Even though it was great to see Clementine, and she was so pleased to see me, the sadness that started in her kitchen is souring everything. I shouldn’t have shown her the photo of my dad. I hadn’t looked at it in ages. Seeing his face again … it’s like I’ve taken the lid off the pain I’d been storing away and now I can’t get it back on again.
Tyler pulls over to the side of the road. “OK, what is it? What’s wrong?”
I stare through the window at the dark murky sea blending into the pale murky sky – the perfect colour chart to match my mood.
“I just…” I don’t know what to say. Tyler knows about my dad leaving but I’ve never told him about the pain it caused me. I’ve never told anyone. “I’m just fed up about Clementine’s stupid stepdad.”
“Are you sure that’s all?” Tyler gives me one of his X-ray stares. Damn him and his Jedi mind powers. But I can’t tell him the truth, it’s too pitiful.
“I don’t want to lose Clementine, you know, as a friend,” I mutter.
“But why would you lose her?”
“She’s not allowed to see me. And she’s going to Berlin next week, to stay with her dad for half-term. She got him to call her on my phone so she could tell him what’s been going on.”
“But that’s just for a week, right?”
“Yeah but…” A horrible thought occurs to me. What if Clementine has such a great time with her dad she doesn’t want to come back? What if she asks him if she can move there?
“What if she ends up moving there?” I make the mistake of looking at Tyler and my stupid eyes fill with stupid tears.
“Moves there? Why would she move there?”
“Because she’s so unhappy here. Because of her troll of a stepdad and her dumb-ass mum. Because her dad cares about her and wants her to be happy.”
Tyler looks so upset at the prospect of Clementine moving away, it stops me in my tracks. Why should he care so much?
“Why are you so bothered?” I stare at him.
His face flushes and he looks away. “It’s been nice … hanging out with her.”
“Do you like her?”
“No! Well, yes, I—”
“Oh my God!” I undo my seat belt.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Not everything’s about romance, you know.” I have no idea why I said this. It’s as if my anger and fear have formed a crazy potion inside me and it’s bubbling out all over the place. The thought of Tyler and Clementine as a couple is practically as bad as her going to Berlin. Where would I fit in? I open the car door.
“Where are you going?” Tyler says.
“For a walk. I need to clear my head.” Don’t slam the door. Don’t slam the door, I tell myself as I get out of the car. But I can’t help it. Hothead Rudy is now in full gear. I slam the door and march off down the street. Part of me wants Tyler to get out of the car and come running after me and hug me and tell me it’s all going to be OK. But after a few seconds I hear the rev of an engine and he speeds away.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, I repeat in my head in time with my feet. This is what I hate the most about life – the way things can fall apart at any second and without any warning. I turn sharply and head down to the beach. Thankfully there’s hardly anyone down here as the weather’s so crappy. I march over the banks of pebbles towards the sea. Then I take the photo from my wallet.
I think again about Clementine talking to her dad on the phone and how he was so worried about her and wanted to see her. He wanted to see her. He didn’t just leave with no warning and no explanation. He stayed in touch. He still sees her regularly. I look at the photo of my dad, at his stupid grin and the way it seems to be mocking me. Why do I want to be able to recognize him? He’s never coming back to me. He’s never coming back. I hold the photo in front of me and tear it in two. Then I tear both halves in two and I keep on tearing until the pieces are the size of confetti. A wave comes crashing in, licking at the toes of my boots. I pull my arm back and fling my last reminder of Dad into the
sea.
CLEMENTINE
Mum and I end up chatting for ages about my collaborations with Rudy and the work Mum once did as a radio producer. I’m hoping that getting her to remember who she used to be will help her remember who she really is. She’s just finished telling me about an award she won for the first show she ever produced when she looks at the kitchen clock. My heart sinks. She’s bored of chatting. She’s thinking about something else she needs to do; something else she needs to clean most probably. I prepare myself for the inevitable disappointment.
“Come with me,” she says, getting to her feet.
I follow her upstairs and into the spare room at the end of the landing. She fetches a pole from the wardrobe and uses it to open the loft hatch in the ceiling, then pulls the ladder down. I haven’t been in the loft for years but Mum spends loads of time up there, clearing and sorting, when she runs out of things to tidy and clean in the rest of the house.
“Come on,” she says.
I sigh as I follow her up the steps. I can’t believe that after the heart-to-heart we’ve just had she wants me to help her sort out the loft. Surely there’s nothing left to do.
Mum turns the light on.
“Oh, wow!” In this day of shock twists, the loft has to be the biggest of all. It’s like the polar opposite to the rest of the house. For a start, it’s the only room that isn’t arranged symmetrically, and there’s no sign of white either. The walls are lined with storage rails and boxes and the carpet is only visible in patches, in between piles of books and clothes and CDs and framed pictures. Even though it’s a large space it’s made cosy by the low sloping roof.
“This is my haven,” Mum says, with a shy smile.
“Really?” It’s hard to imagine neat-freak Mum feeling at peace among all this chaos. I follow her over to a pile of boxes in the far corner.
“You talking about your friend Rudy made me think of Gina,” Mum says.
Gina was Mum’s best friend forever. Pretty much literally. Their mums met on the maternity ward right after giving birth to them and instantly bonded. They went to the same schools and even the same university. Gina was like a member of the family – I even called her Auntie Gina when I was little – but she and Mum lost touch a few years ago.
Clementine and Rudy Page 18