— Yes!
Ryan punches the air as his character connects with a triple-hit dragon punch, sending Nathan’s sumo wrestler on to his back for the victory. Nathan slaps the machine next to the buttons.
— My buttons were sticking. I told you I haven’t played for ages.
— Yeah, I can tell.
Ryan saw his reflection smiling in the screen as it flashed dark.
— Rematch.
Nathan fished in his pocket for more coins. Dad and Sophia came up behind them, carrying crisps and cans of drink.
— Who wants the Lilt?
Sophia held up the can like a hostess on a game show. Nathan grabbed for it. Sophia pulled it back out of his reach.
— Ryan, would you like the Lilt?
Ryan glanced at Nathan then shook his head.
— He can have it, it’s fine.
Nathan smiled and took the can. Dad and Sophia stared at him. He looked at Ryan.
— Yeah, thanks.
— Right, well, this is going great, don’t you think?
Dad stuck a thumb up and nodded his head.
— I reckon another three hours and we’re there, if my lovely navigator stays on task.
He laid his hand on Sophia’s shoulder. She cut him a stare.
— I’m just saying what the map says, Michael.
She handed Ryan a can of Pepsi. Nathan looked at Ryan and smiled. Dad took a deep breath.
— Let’s hit the road, gang.
Ryan watched Dad and Sophia walk away towards the service station doors. He turned to Nathan. Nathan took a swig of his can then looked down.
— Can’t you even tie your laces?
Ryan glanced at his shoes and felt the sting of pain as Nathan slapped him on the back of the neck. He looked up, rubbing his neck, and saw Nathan jogging backwards towards the exit smiling straight at him.
— Is that my dad?
Ameliah holds up the photograph in front of her. Nan leans into the spare room, holding on to the frame of the door.
— I can’t see, love, you ready to go?
Ameliah points a finger at the shorter boy with the dark hair. Nan squints.
— I really can’t see. It could be, pass it here.
Ameliah hands her the photograph. Nan stands up straight, holding the photo in front of her.
— Yeah, I think that’s your dad.
Nan nods uncertainly.
— I’m not sure who he’s with though, must be a friend?
— Nathan.
Ameliah points at the photograph.
— It says, with Nathan. On the back.
— Oh.
Nan flips over the photograph.
— Where was it?
Ameliah looks at the book in her lap. She holds it up in two hands.
— It was in this, on its own between the pages.
Nan lowers the photo and looks down at the book.
— Cosmos, Carl Sagan. Well, if it’s a science book, it makes sense that it’s your dad. Are there any more?
Ameliah watches Nan looking at the boxes on the floor.
— Books?
— Photos.
— No. Not in the book anyway. There’s probably more in some of the boxes. He looks so young. I never heard him mention anyone called Nathan.
Nan shakes her head and hands the photo back to Ameliah.
— No, you wouldn’t.
Ameliah looks up at her.
— Why not?
— They fell out, and that was that. Families, eh?
— What do you mean?
Nan shrugs.
— I mean they’re not easy, are they? Especially stepbrothers and sisters.
— What?
Ameliah’s mouth hangs open. Nan looks at her.
— Nathan was your dad’s stepbrother, when his dad remarried.
Ameliah felt her head spinning.
— What?!
Nan nodded.
— Yeah, I don’t think the marriage lasted very long, I mean I’m not sure, I don’t know the details. All I know is that the two boys fell out and didn’t speak again.
Ameliah feels her words sticking to the inside of her throat.
— Dad had a brother?
Nan shakes her head.
— Stepbrother. Very different.
— And he never told me?
Nan sighs.
— I guess he didn’t see the point. I mean they stopped speaking before you were born and I don’t think he ever expected them to speak again. I think it was a pretty big fight.
Ameliah glances up at the ceiling then looks at Nan.
— About what?
Nan presses her lips together.
— About your mom.
She stares at the boxes against the wall. Ameliah looks at the photograph in her hand. The two boys stare out.
— I remember him saying there weren’t any photos of him. From when he was a boy.
— Who?
— Your dad. I remember looking through an old album with him and your mom, not long after you were born, and he said that he used to refuse to be in photographs.
— Refuse?
— Yeah, he said he’d run off or get out of it somehow. He said he was pretty sure there wasn’t a single photo of him through his whole teens. Don’t ask me why I’ve just remembered that.
Ameliah looks up at Nan.
— Why did they fight about Mom?
Nan shrugs awkwardly. Ameliah looks back at the photograph. She stares at Dad and tries to imagine him talking as a boy.
— What else am I going to find out? Have I got a long-lost twin sister?
Nan smiles at her.
— Very funny, love. Nobody meant any harm – things get complicated as you get older. Grudges run deep sometimes. I used to have a best friend, we worked together in the bakery from when we were what, seventeen. Thick as thieves we were, then we fell out, over a boy I think, I can’t even remember it’s that long ago, and bam, we never spoke again.
Ameliah looks around her. The carpet is now half visible, with most of the boxes and bags stacked against the wall to the left. The room feels lighter now the window isn’t blocked. She puffs out her cheeks.
— I’d say they were pretty complicated already.
Nan rubs her hands together.
— I thought we could get some popcorn. You like popcorn, right?
Ameliah opens the book and lays the photograph in the crease of the page. She pictures the two boys walking along a street, kicking a flattened can as they go. She stands up. Nan frowns.
— Don’t be offended, sweetheart. Us grown-ups make choices, and they’re not always the right ones.
Ameliah looks at Nan and thinks about her being left to pick up the pieces. Nan smiles and rubs her hand on Ameliah’s shoulder.
— Salted or sweet?
Ameliah smiles.
— Whatever you like best, Nan.
Nan laughs.
— Do you really think I’m fussy?
— I’m not singing.
Nathan shook his head in the rear-view mirror. Sophia rolled her eyes in the passenger seat. Ryan stared at the side of Dad’s face as he drove along the motorway.
— No way.
Nathan looked at Ryan.
— Help me out, mate.
Ryan nodded.
— He’s right. I’ve gotta say I’m with him on this one. I think maybe you two think we’re seven or something.
— Exactly. You hear that, Michael? Mom?
Sophia looked at Dad.
— I think we’re facing some kind of uprising.
She turned back to the two boys.
— This smells like mutiny.
Dad glanced across at her.
— There’s only one thing to do with mutineers.
Nathan and Ryan groaned as Dad started to sing at the top of his voice.
— Oh, you never go to heaven!
Sophia’s response was equally loud.
— Oh, you
never go to heaven!
— In a biscuit tin!
— In a biscuit tin!
— Cos a biscuit tin!
Nathan banged the inside of his door.
— Nooooooooooooooo!
Sophia and Dad laughed as they carried on singing. Ryan looked at all three of them and felt himself smile.
The wall of DVDs stretches out in either direction. Nan screws up her face.
— I haven’t got a clue, love, what do you fancy?
Ameliah stares at the covers on the New Releases shelf, not recognising anything.
— I dunno, Nan. This is hard work.
— I’ll go next door and get the popcorn. They charge an arm and a leg in here and you only get a thimbleful. You find something and I’ll meet you by the ice-cream fridge, right?
Ameliah nods. Nan walks away towards the exit. Ameliah turns round. The small speakers in the ceiling push out a cheesy instrumental. Shelves and shelves full of plastic cases all around her. She starts walking slowly down a short aisle, pointing a finger vaguely at titles as she goes. She remembers sitting in the cinema in between Mom and Dad, the curtains moving apart that extra bit, letting them know the feature film was about to start. Mom whispering through the film, asking questions and saying things like I don’t trust him or she’s definitely a baddie. Dad shushing them both and pointing seriously at the screen. Watching the light on their faces and how young they looked.
— Into the classics then?
Joe stands just on the other side of the shelves. His face is newly shaven, but his dirty-blond hair is still as scruffy. She can only see the top half of his body. She feels panic in her stomach as she looks past him towards the exit, trying to spot Nan.
Joe holds up a DVD and smiles.
— I’m a sucker for the eighties.
Ameliah looks at the cover. A young man stands raising his sunglasses from his shocked face, while behind him an older man in a white coat copies his expression under the block letters of Back to the Future.
— I’ve seen it.
Joe lowers the DVD and looks at the back.
— Great Scott! Classic. I even like the third one. Have you seen the third one?
Ameliah presses her feet into the threadbare shop carpet.
— Yeah. I watched them all with my dad.
Joe stares at the case in his hands. Ameliah looks towards the exit. The ceiling speakers start a new tune.
— Yeah. He did love ’em.
Ameliah looks at him. His light chocolate-coloured jacket obscures the red writing on his dark blue T-shirt. She thinks she sees part of the word Mars. Joe looks up.
— You on your own?
— I’m with my nan. She’ll be back any minute.
Joe smiles.
— OK. Take it easy, I’m not some weirdo.
Ameliah looks at him. They stand in silence.
— I should go. I have to choose something.
She starts to walk away from him. He raises the DVD.
— OK. Yeah, well, enjoy your film, whatever you choose.
Ameliah feels him watching her back as she walks away. She still can’t see Nan. She turns quickly and walks back towards him. His face is surprised.
— When did I meet you? she asks.
She can feel her hands hot next to her hips as she stares at him. He shuffles his feet slightly.
— You really don’t remember?
He gazes at her, his head to one side. Ameliah can’t work out how old he is.
— No.
She holds his stare, trying not to blink. He looks at the floor then back at her.
— Your mom’s funeral.
He looks down again. Ameliah feels her chest get heavy. She remembers Dad standing up in front of everyone, trying to read from a piece of paper, his hands getting the better of him as everyone watched.
— You were what, nine then?
Ameliah looks at Joe, trying to place him at the funeral.
— Ten.
An overexcited voice speaks over the cheesy music from the speakers.
— This week only, choose three titles and pay for just two, that’s three titles for the price of two.
He looks up at the ceiling.
— That’s stupid, nobody ever gets through three films.
He shakes his head. Ameliah watches him.
— So you weren’t at the accident?
He looks at her.
— What?
Ameliah checks herself quickly.
— Where in America?
She points a finger at him.
— Your accent, it’s American.
His face doesn’t change.
— North Carolina. Eleven years, more or less.
He points to his left.
— West.
He puffs out his cheeks.
— A lot more sun than here, I can tell ya.
He nods the nod of forced small talk.
— OK, so I think I’ve made my choice. I’ll see you later, Ameliah. Say hi to your nan for me.
He walks away. Ameliah watches his back and knows he can feel her. As he approaches the exit, he places the DVD on to the nearest shelf and walks out through the glass doors.
Ameliah stares through the shop window into the fading light of the car park.
She thinks about Dad. Sitting with him on the sofa, watching him watch the film out of the corner of her eye, laughing when he laughed, wanting to share his fun.
— Haven’t you picked yet?
Nan holds two large bags of popcorn and a tub of ice cream.
— Sorry I took so long, I couldn’t choose. Do you like mint choc chip?
She smiles a hungry smile. Ameliah snaps out of her daydream and looks at Nan.
— Yeah, great. Did you just see?
— What, love?
Nan looks round.
— Nothing.
Ameliah looks at the shelf to her left. All the covers are for films made before she was born. She sees one showing a lady wearing a light pink dress in the arms of a man dressed all in black. Dirty Dancing. She picks it up.
— Got one.
Nan looks at the case and smiles.
— Old school. I like it.
A seagull squawked overhead. Ryan could hear the sound of the sea in the distance as he stared at the caravan.
Its metal support legs looked like a strong kick would break them. The bulky beige and brown cabin looked like it had been made by a baby out of empty cereal boxes.
All around it identical caravans were lined up in both directions, poorly lit by the weak strip light above each door.
He heard Sophia’s laugh from inside and thought about turning round and walking away. The door swung open and Nathan jumped down the three chunky steps, wobbling slightly on the grass then steadying himself. Sophia’s laugh got louder through the open door. He swung it shut, muting her cackle.
— This is bad.
He shook his head.
— It’s like being in a cupboard. They’re acting like kids.
Ryan looked at the caravan. The cream-coloured curtains made the window blend seamlessly with the outside wall.
— Let’s leave ’em to it. There’s an arcade down the other side.
Nathan nodded.
— Fine, I honestly thought I was gonna throw up. They could’ve left us at home.
As the pair of them walked between caravans, Ryan thought about Eve. He pictured the thin sliver of her body through the crack in the fence and the sound of her voice.
— What are you smiling for?
Nathan poked his arm. Ryan breathed deeply, filling his lungs with fresh air.
— Can you smell the sea?
— Sea? All I smell is seagull shit and fishermen’s armpits.
Ryan laughed. Nathan looked at him, his face screwed up in disgust.
— I’m serious. I don’t even know what this place is. Who comes here?
His face looked genuinely confused and Ryan couldn’t help laugh
ing again. Nathan’s expression softened.
— It’s not funny, man. Who knows what goes on here?
He tried to keep a serious face, but cracked as Ryan stared at him. They both laughed as they approached the front of a large building. Its big flashing red sign spelled AMUSEMENTS.
The lady in the pink dress runs towards the man in black as the song builds to a chorus. She jumps, he lifts her above his head, her arms stretched out like a plane, as all around them people kick over chairs and dance.
Ameliah feels the muscles in her cheeks as she lets out a warm sigh, holding her hand to her chest. She thinks about this being Mom’s kind of film, how she can imagine Mom teary-eyed at the end of it, a big smile across her face, gripping Dad’s arm as they sit on the sofa on a Friday night.
She looks across at Nan. She’s fast asleep, head tilted back, mouth wide open as she snores.
As the end credits start to roll, Ameliah stares at the TV and thinks about Joe. Why was he at the DVD shop? Did he know she followed him?
She tries to picture him and Dad together, sitting at a table laughing, but it just feels like putting two different photographs together that don’t belong.
Was it the funeral she remembered him from?
She feels the start of a headache as the TV screen goes darker and is suddenly aware of how late it must be. She looks at Nan and decides it’s probably best to leave her there rather than wake her up.
Why can’t she remember him? What does he want?
She feels her brain pressing the inside of her skull as she switches off the TV. Nan stirs, like a farm animal having a dream. Ameliah smiles in the dark and walks towards the kitchen.
Standing at the sink, she stares at her reflection in the dark window. Her high cheekbones cast small shadows either side of her full lips. She drags her curls back over her head with the palm of her hand and tilts her chin slightly to get a better look at her eyes and forehead.
The shadows make her face look like a mask, one of those tribal masks with diamond-shaped eyes cut out of wood, and it strikes her that she looks like Mom.
Throwing the two pills in her mouth, she gulps water from a glass and breathes deeply, hoping that the paracetamol will kick in immediately.
— You OK, love?
Nan’s voice is heavy with tired as she stands in the doorway. Ameliah stares at her reflection, feeling the pulse of blood behind her eyes.
— I’m fine. Just a headache.
Tape Page 13