“We had such great adventures together.” Mum fetches a photo album from one of the boxes and hands it to me. “This was when we went on a road trip around Scotland – we were eighteen. We wanted to do Route 66 in America but we couldn’t afford it.” She laughs.
I flick through the photos. Mum is barely recognizable, not just physically, with her soft curves and long, curly hair, but emotionally too. She looks so happy. The final picture in the set is of Mum and Gina perched on the bonnet of an old-style Mini, their arms draped around each other’s shoulders, their heads thrown back, laughing.
I look from the picture to Mum now and her toned, thin, Lycra-clad body. It’s as if all of her soft edges have been chiselled away. “Why did you and Gina lose touch?”
“We kind of drifted apart after I had Damon. And then Vincent had an argument with Tony, her husband, so it all got a bit awkward.”
“Right.” I look back at the picture. I’ve never seen Mum looking this happy and carefree. I can’t help wondering if Vincent’s argument with Tony was intentional – separating Mum from Gina so he could wear her down.
“Aha, this is what I was looking for.” Mum hands me an envelope of photos. They’re of crowds of people holding banners at a demonstration. The words “WAR” and “PEACE” feature a lot.
“Here we are.” Mum points to a couple of young women with brightly coloured peace symbols painted on their faces.
“Is that you and Gina?” I stare at the picture in disbelief.
Mum nods. “It was at the Stop the War demo in 2003 – against the threatened Iraq War. It was the largest protest march ever held in London – not that it made any difference. We still went to war, but it felt so good to be a part of it.” Mum sighs. That was two years before I was born. She was still with Dad then. She was still happy. “Your dad was there that day too,” she says, as if reading my mind. “He was the one who took the pictures.”
I flick through the photos to a close-up shot of Mum leaning against a red phone box. It was clearly taken when she wasn’t looking. She’s smiling at something out of shot and she looks so beautiful, so natural. I wonder if Dad saw her beauty too; if that’s what made him take the picture. “Do you have any photos of Dad on the march?”
Mum shakes her head. “Vincent…” She breaks off. “I got rid of them when I married Vincent.”
I look around the loft, at the rails of Mum’s old clothes, the piles of books and the CD collection. It’s like being at some kind of weird museum exhibition: “The Former Life of Julia Grayling”. “I don’t understand…” I say, not wanting to upset her.
“What?”
“Why did you let Vincent change you so much?”
“It’s complicated,” Mum says quietly. “I was in love in the early days. He was so funny and exciting to be around. He made me feel really alive.”
Much as it’s making me cringe to hear her talking about Vincent like this, I take comfort from the fact that at least it’s in the past tense.
“But then, after I had Damon and I gave up work, everything changed. He changed and I…” She trails off again.
I feel a weird mixture of anger and sorrow. Anger that Vincent not only stole my dad away from me, he took my real mum too. And sorrow that I never really knew the fun, happy Mum from the photos – or at least I was too young to remember her. But maybe it’s not too late. Maybe I can find her again.
“Why don’t you get in touch with Gina?” I say. “I bet she’d love to hear from you.”
“Oh no, I can’t.” Mum looks genuinely horrified at the prospect.
“Why?”
“We parted on pretty bad terms.”
“But all of this has to count for something.” I gesture at the photos.
“Maybe.”
“You’re still that person, Mum, that person in the photos.”
She laughs drily and puts the photos back in the box. “Come on, we’d better get back downstairs.”
I follow her down the ladder, vowing to myself that I’m going to help Mum find her real self again and no one, not even Vincent, is going to stop me.
RUDY
After my ceremonial burial of my dad at sea I stomp along the seafront back to Brighton. I can’t believe Tyler and I have had a fight. We never fight. I keep checking my phone to see if he’s messaged but there’s nothing and I don’t know what to say to him either. How do I explain that the thought of him liking Clementine filled me with fear? I can barely even understand it myself. It’s not as if I like Tyler – just the thought of it feels gross, due to the whole honorary sibling thing. It was more the fear that I’d end up losing them both if they got it together. One of my favourite old-school hip-hop groups, De La Soul, once did a song about three being a magic number. But there’s nothing magic about it if two of the three get loved up. Then it’s just plain awkward.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that it’s only when I see the old pier, like a black line drawing against the paper-white sky, that I realize I’m now dangerously close to my ruined picture. I know that looking at LADZ’s handiwork is the worst thing I could do right now but hey, I’m in the middle of the world’s greatest self-pity party, so I have a perverse desire to add to my misery. But as I approach the steps I see that my ruined picture has completely disappeared and there’s a brand-new one in its place. The new picture is so good it stops me dead. It’s of two young guys dressed in hoodies, low-slung jeans and snapback caps, leaning against a wall. One of them is saying to the other in a speech bubble: Are you all right, mate? And stencilled at the bottom are the words:
MATES, LOOK OUT FOR EACH OTHER
#SUICIDEPREVENTION
I feel a weird sense of relief. If my picture was going to be covered up with anything, I’m really glad it was this. But then I see something that causes my breath to catch in the back of my throat. In the very bottom corner of the picture is a tag – the LADZ tag. Wait… What??
CLEMENTINE
I lie on my bed and listen to the thunderous rumble of Vincent’s voice downstairs. He and Damon have just got back from London and I’m guessing from his raised voice that Mum must be telling him she’s given me back my phone. Fear nips at me. What if he comes up and takes it back? What if he makes Mum’s life even more of a misery? I’ve got no time to lose.
I quickly go onto my Facebook app and do a search for Gina. Thankfully, her surname is Hermet rather than something super common like Smith, so I’m hoping there won’t be too many to sift through. As I wait for the search results to load, I pray that Gina isn’t one of those older people who doesn’t do social media. Thankfully, only three results come up and I spot her profile immediately. Her bright auburn hair is now cut into a short bob but I can tell instantly from her smile that it’s her. I click on the option to send her a message, then bite my bottom lip. What should I say?
In the end I decide to try the honesty-is-the-best-policy policy, and tell her that I’m worried about Mum. From what Mum said earlier, it sounds as if they fell out pretty badly, so I need to say something that will hopefully convince Gina to give their friendship another chance. I write about Vincent and how he’s worn Mum down. I write about how shocked I was to see the photos of her and Mum when they were younger and how much happier Mum seemed then. I write that I’m scared for Mum and I don’t know what to do. By the time I’ve finished the message I feel weirdly lighter. For years, I’ve carried the reality of what’s been happening at home, like a terrible secret. Finally telling people the truth feels like a huge weight being lifted. But is it right to tell Gina? Wouldn’t it make Mum angry to know that I’ve told her such personal stuff?
I hear the rumble of Vincent’s voice again and a door slamming and before I can talk myself out of it, I press SEND. Almost immediately my phone bleeps with a new message. My spirits lift as I see that it’s from Dad.
Hey, just wondering if your artist friend would like to come with you to Berlin? I’d love to meet her. And don’t worry about the money. I’ll pay for he
r flight. xxxx
RUDY
I end up staring at the new picture by LADZ for so long I can no longer feel my fingers or toes from the cold. When I’d seen his picture of the giant butt cheeks I’d assumed he was just some sexist idiot who didn’t really care about anything meaningful but clearly I was wrong. Just like I was wrong to lash out at Tyler before. Annoyingly, I hear Mum’s voice in my head, sharing one of her favourite Jesus quotes: “If someone slaps you on the one cheek, honey, turn to them the other also.” Jesus didn’t say “honey”, by the way, that’s just how Mum likes to personalize her sermons to me. I usually hate it when she says this, especially as she’s got just as much of a hot temper as I do, but maybe sometimes it’s right to not lash out. If I hadn’t painted the shorts on the butt cheeks LADZ wouldn’t have ruined my picture, and if I hadn’t accused Tyler of being some kind of romance addict we’d still be hanging out. A terrible thought occurs to me. What if he doesn’t want to be my friend any more? I need to make amends – for everything.
The first thing I do is find the LADZ account on Instagram and request to send him a message. It takes me ages to come up with the right words.
Hey, I’m sorry I painted the shorts on your butt cheeks – even though I still believe it’s wrong to objectify women. Just saw the piece you’ve painted by the beach. If my picture had to be covered up with anything I’m glad it was this. Truce?
Two hours later, I’m knocking at Tyler’s door, armed with what I hope will be the perfect peace offering. Tyler’s dad, Kevin, answers. He looks pale and his eyes are ringed with dark shadows. He’s looked this way ever since he lost his job. And I know that his worry affects Tyler too. I feel so crappy for having snapped at him when he’s got so much to deal with and he’s been nothing but the best of friends to me.
“Hello, Rudy,” Kevin says, opening the door wide to let me in. “He’s in his room.”
I breathe a small sigh of relief. At least Tyler hasn’t told his dad to ban me from entering.
I head past the living room, where I can hear one of Tyler’s mum’s favourite quiz shows blaring from the TV. Part of me wants to go in there and join her and pretend to be really excited about John from Milton Keynes knowing that there are fifty states in America, to avoid the awkwardness of what’s to come. But I can’t. I have to put things right. I take a deep breath and knock on Tyler’s door. There’s no reply and my heart sinks. He doesn’t want to see me. Then I realize that he doesn’t even know it’s me and that he’s probably listening to music on his headphones and hasn’t even heard me knock. I don’t want to barge in on him, so I take my phone from my pocket and call him.
I hear movement from inside the room and start counting the seconds, praying he’ll pick up.
“Hello.” His voice comes at me in a weird kind of surround sound, through the phone and the door.
“Hey,” I say softly. “I’m really sorry.”
“That’s OK.” He sounds quiet. Sad.
I turn and lean against the wall beside his door. “I was being an idiot. I was scared I was going to lose you.”
“Why would you lose me?”
“Because I have a habit of losing the people I love the most.” It’s so hard for me to utter these words I’m practically whispering.
“You’ll never lose me, Rudy. You’re my Jedi sis.”
“Thanks, bruv.” I’m so choked up my voice comes out like a squeak.
“Wait a second. Where are you?” I hear more movement from the bedroom and Tyler flings open the door. “What are you doing out here?” he says, looking totally bewildered.
“Delivering some of your favourite fajitas,” I say, holding out a takeaway box from Dos Sombreros. “And waiting for a hug,” I add, looking down at the floor. Within a second his thin arms are wrapped around me.
CLEMENTINE
I’m so excited at Dad’s message I have to call Rudy immediately. The phone rings a couple of times before it’s answered but there’s only silence.
“Rudy?” I say cautiously.
“Clementine? Holy guacamole! Have you stolen your phone back again?”
I laugh. “No. My mum got it back for me.”
“Seriously? How come?”
“She was feeling really bad about everything and we had a really good chat. But that’s not why I’m calling. I’m calling because I’ve got some exciting news. Well, an exciting question. At least I hope it will be.”
“What is it?”
“My dad just messaged.”
“Oh, right.”
“He asked if you’d like to come to Berlin with me! He said he’ll pay for your flight.”
More silence. I’m hoping it’s from excitement rather than disappointment.
“So, what do you think? Would you be able to get a few days off from the café? You’d love Berlin, seriously. The street art there is amazing. Maybe it could inspire us in our competition entry…”
“You want to do the competition?” Now Rudy definitely sounds excited.
“Absolutely. I’ve decided that I can’t let Vincent win, but I’ll tell you all about that when I see you. So, what do you think? Would you like to come to Berlin?”
“But don’t you want some quality time with your dad? Wouldn’t I get in the way?”
“Of course not! I’d love you to come … if you want to?”
There’s another pause and then I hear her laugh. “Of course I want to! Wow, I can’t believe this is happening.”
I try and maintain my cool, even though I’m so excited I want to bounce up and down like Tigger. “Great. I’ll be in touch again tomorrow, to sort out the flight details.”
“Amazing.” There’s a beat of silence. “Thanks so much.” I’m not sure if it’s a crackle on the line or Rudy’s voice cracking with emotion.
RUDY
“That was Clementine,” I say to Tyler as I end the call.
“Yeah, I figured.” He immediately looks awkward.
“I’m so sorry about what I said earlier. I was really out of order.”
“It’s OK.” He prods at his fajita with his fork. “I’m not obsessed with romance, you know.”
“I know. I don’t know why I said that. I was being really stupid.” I look down at my lap to try and hide my embarrassment. “It’s just that I panicked. I don’t want to lose you – as a friend, I mean. It’s not that I like like you or anything. I mean, the thought of you and me together is kinda gross…”
“Thanks!” Tyler laughs.
“I’m sorry!” I groan.
“You could never lose me as a friend,” Tyler says, now deadly serious. “I mean it. You’re my sister.” He shifts along the bed and gently leans against me.
My entire body exhales with relief.
We sit like that in silence for a moment, both staring straight ahead. Then Tyler turns to me. “I think you’re pretty gross too, to be honest,” he says with a grin, and we both start chortling like kids.
I get home from Tyler’s nice and early, to catch Mum before she goes to bed. Now that I’ve got things sorted with Tyler I’m so excited about a potential Berlin trip. I’m so happy, in fact, that when I find Mum and Dave cuddled up on the sofa watching a movie it doesn’t make me cringe at all – well, only a little bit. But of course, I should have known it was all too good to be true. Instead of beaming with joy at my news, Mum immediately frowns.
“What do you mean, her dad will pay for you?” She purses her lips and gives me one of her death stares. “Does he think we’re some kind of charity?”
“No. I think he was just trying to be nice.”
“Oh, really?” Mum gets up from the sofa and starts pacing. “I’ve never even met this man before. Or his daughter.”
“You were at work when she came round,” I say.
“She’s a lovely girl,” Dave adds.
Mum shakes her head. “Yeah well, lovely she may be, but we’re not accepting their charity.”
“What if I paid for it myself then?” I of
fer. “I could ask for an advance on my wages from the café.”
“You can’t go swanning off to another country to stay in some strange man’s house.”
“He’s not a strange man, Mum. He’s my friend’s dad.”
“No, Rudy, I’m sorry. I’m not happy about this.”
“Why don’t we sleep on it?” Dave suggests, standing up and putting an arm round Mum’s shoulders.
Mum shakes his arm off. “The only thing I’m sleeping on is my bed and if you want to be sleeping there too you’d better stop right now with trying to help her get her way. I mean it.”
Dave looks at me and shrugs helplessly.
I think of Clementine going to Berlin on her own and her dad asking her to move in with him. Without me there she might agree. She might feel as if there’s nothing here for her. And all because Mum’s too proud to accept so-called charity. The injustice of it all eats into me. I treat Mum to a death stare of my own. “I might never see her again and you don’t even care.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus, enough with the melodrama.” Mum sighs and shakes her head. “She’ll only be away for half-term. You’ll see her when she comes back.”
I turn and walk from the room, too angry to say what I’m thinking: But what if she doesn’t come back?
CLEMENTINE
The first thing I do when I wake up on Monday morning is check my phone, hoping I’ve got a message from Rudy. But there’s nothing since the message she sent last night:
Won’t be able to come to Berlin. Really sorry.
WHY????? I’d replied but I’d heard nothing more from her. And still there’s nothing. There’s been no reply from Gina either. I try to ignore the fear now bubbling away inside me and I get out of bed. I have to go and see Rudy.
Clementine and Rudy Page 19