Tape
Page 20
Ameliah looks at Nan’s face. The tiny crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. The lines that run from her nostrils to her mouth. Nan nods.
— I think he’s a good man. Even if he can’t cook for toffee.
Ameliah pictures Joe, looking back at her, knowing he was keeping his promise.
— I like him.
Nan smiles.
— Me too. If you ask me though, it’s us who need to be looking out for him. Did you see that place?
Ameliah smiles back.
— Yeah. We should buy him a pair of socks that match.
Nan looks out through the windscreen.
— I think it might be good for us, you know? New chapter. Us girls need a challenge.
She lays her hand on Ameliah’s thigh. Ameliah puffs out her cheeks.
— Are things always so complicated?
Nan smiles, still staring out.
— One thing on top of another. So many layers.
Nan leans in.
— Don’t worry, love, the right thing to do sticks out when you need it to.
Ameliah looks into Nan’s eyes, the dark of her pupils, and pictures the old stereo. The smooth black plastic, those thick buttons. She bites her bottom lip.
— Did you know about the tape?
— What tape?
— Dad made Mom a tape, before she left, I mean before you left.
Nan shakes her head.
— I didn’t know about any tape. All I remember is her crying that night before we left, and that shell. You know she made me take her to a jeweller to have the hole drilled. The way the man in the shop looked at me. She never took that thing off, wherever we moved to, and we moved a lot. But when she got something in her head, well, you know what she was like. She never mentioned a tape. Doesn’t surprise me though, with your mom and dad nothing surprises me.
Ameliah watches Nan’s face start to drift into another memory. She turns and looks up at the house and, as she breathes in, she pictures the old stereo.
Ryan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his boom box. The black plastic and silver edges. He felt the inside of his split lip with his tongue. The house was quiet. He pictured Nathan, in his bed, staring up at Bruce Lee on his wall. He thought about how funny it was that the people who aren’t even trying to help somehow help the most.
He thought about Eve, in her bed, in the back bedroom, half a football pitch away, staring up at her ceiling, wondering what was going to happen when she got back to Ireland. He thought about pushing down against the fence with his foot, his body rising up, bringing his face level with hers, her smile. He thought about her getting ready to leave in the morning, looking out from her bedroom window, across the gardens at his.
He thought about Mom. Her face as she sat on his bed and told him that she was sick. Him having questions but not speaking, just staring at her mouth as she spoke.
He reached out his hand to tape deck two, glancing at his alarm clock. The red digital numbers read 00:19, the same colour as the recording light as he felt the thick buttons click in.
Ameliah sits on the edge of her bed, staring at the old cassette in her hands. The dark scratched plastic, the torn label. She pictures Dad, standing in his dark suit, biting his bottom lip as he stares out at the people at Mom’s funeral. She imagines him at the back door, talking to his stepbrother, the stepbrother he hadn’t seen for over ten years, whose heart he broke when he stole the girl. The pair of them arguing, Nathan telling Dad it was too much of an ask, that he wasn’t up to it, Dad asking again, telling him he was ill, asking him to look out for her, his little girl, Eve’s little girl, to be there for her if she needed him. How could he not?
She thinks about younger Dad, sitting on the edge of his bed, like she is right now, leaning in, recording his thoughts. The thoughts that let Mom know he was for her, that made her keep the shell, make the necklace, layer upon layer of the story that led to her, Ameliah, being here.
She looks at her watch. The digital numbers read 12:19. She pushes eject and slides the tape into the deck, then closes it. Her fingers move down and press the thick play and record button at the same time. She takes a deep breath as the red light comes on.
— Hello? Is it on? Yeah, I can see the light. It’s on. I’m recording. Hello. Who am I saying hello to? You. I’m saying hello to you. This was your idea, remember?
— Remember what?
Ameliah stares at the speaker. She closes her eyes and shakes her head.
— This is what you did. I’m sorry it took me this long. I didn’t get it before, but I do now—
— Who’s there?
She stops breathing, her eyes fixed on the little red light.
— Hello?
— Who is that? Can you hear me?
Ameliah closes her eyes.
— Are you talking to me? Hello? This is Ryan Wilson. I think I’m somehow tuned into your frequency, I think it happened before. Can you hear me?
She takes a deep breath, trying to stay calm.
— Yes.
— OK, good. Who are you?
— Dad?
— What? You’re breaking up, can you hear me?
— Yeah, I can hear you.
— OK. I’m not sure how this is happening, maybe it’s the aerials or something. Where are you?
— Are you recording?
— Yeah, how did you know?
— I’m recording too.
Ameliah feels her heart thumping in her chest.
— We’re both recording.
— Where are you?
— I’m in my room. Just like you.
— What?
— You’re recording for her.
— Hold on, what? You’re breaking up.
The speakers hiss with static.
— How do you know that? Who are you?
Ameliah stares at the cogs of the cassette turning. She can feel the pulse of her blood in her neck.
— You’re doing the right thing. She’s gonna love it. Eve is gonna love it. She won’t forget.
— What? Who are you? How do you know that?
— Trust me. It might take a while but you’ll be together. The universe wants you to be together.
— Universe? Who are you?
— I’m Ameliah.
The static creeps out from the speakers again.
— Are you serious?
— Yeah.
— That was my mom’s name.
Ameliah leans in and smiles.
— I know.
Ryan looked up at the dark bedroom window, gripping the tape in his left hand. The garden was quiet and, apart from a couple of windows a few houses down with lights still on, the backs of the terraced houses were lit only by the moon.
He felt his stomach flip like when the car went over a hump-back bridge as he reached down to the edge of the patio and picked up a small piece of chipped mortar.
His eyes were starting to sting with tiredness as he drew back his arm, aimed and let fly.
He felt a burst of pride that he’d hit it first shot then realised that the sound of stone hitting glass was quite loud and quickly moved to the fence, staring up.
The dark window stayed lifeless, like the mouth of a cave that he knew something lived in. He told himself that a minute was a good length of time to wait before trying again and started to count under his breath, the whole time staring up.
The fence behind him creaked and he jumped forward. The fat gargoyle cat stared down at him and he let out a sigh of relief.
— No wonder you’ve got no mates.
He stared at the cat as he whispered then looked up at the window, thinking he saw something move. The dark window stayed lifeless.
He turned back to the cat.
— Now I’ve lost count. Nice one.
Moonlight bounced back from the cat’s eyes as it blinked slowly then the kitchen light clicked on. Ryan ducked down, moving along towards the downstairs window, his back against the panelled wood o
f the fence. He held his breath as the lock of the back door turned. This was not how it was supposed to happen. This wasn’t the film he’d imagined.
— Ryan. Psssssst. Are you there?
Eve’s voice let all the tension out of his body. He stepped along the fence and saw her leaning out of the back door in a white vest. The silver light on her bare shoulders.
— I’m here.
Eve smiled and brought her finger to her lips.
— Shh. Hold on.
She ducked back inside and the kitchen light clicked off.
Ryan stepped on to the patio and stood in front of the step to the back door. Eve stood in the open doorway in her vest and jogging bottoms. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail. She smiled again.
— I knew you’d come.
Ryan felt the muscles in his cheeks as he smiled back at her.
— I wasn’t happy with that goodbye.
His fingers squeezed the tape in his hand. Eve pulled the door nearly closed behind her and stood on the step. Her bare feet were pale against the concrete.
— Me either.
Ryan held up the tape.
— I made you this.
He watched her look at the dark cassette.
— I couldn’t find a case, sorry.
Eve smiled.
— What is it?
— Some stuff I wanted to say. Just to you.
He held it out towards her. Eve stared at him as her hand took the tape.
— I won’t let anyone hear.
Ryan shook his head.
— It’s been a crazy night.
— Yeah?
Ryan heard the voice from his boom box in his head and smiled again.
— Let’s just say I believe in the universe stuff.
Eve stepped forward to the edge of the step, her chin level with his eyes.
— You’re kinda small for a boy.
Ryan lifted his chin and smiled.
— I’m still growing.
He reached out a hand and placed it on her hip, his eyes never leaving hers.
— You know if this was a film, this is where we’d kiss.
Eve tilted her head.
— Really?
— Yeah, the strings would start to build and the camera would start moving around us and going up and everybody in the cinema would breathe in and the strings would get louder and the credits would—
She held his face in her hands as she kissed him.
Ryan closed his eyes and felt everything he wanted to say travel through his lips into hers and, as his fingertips felt the line where the edge of her vest met her skin, he got the feeling that somehow this was just the beginning.
Thank you Yael for helping me get to the heart of any half-decent idea I’ve ever had.
Mom and Naomi for your constant support. Sol and Dylan for unlimited ideas and inspiration. Nick for your trust and subtlety. Tom, Lily, Sam, Hannah and the whole HarperCollins team for your excitement and guidance (chuffed to be with you). Thank you Laura, for introducing me to Cathryn. Cathryn for thinking I had potential and speaking like a real person. Kim for waking me up from a five-year sleep and showing me it’s OK to like both Steven Seagal and Toni Morrison. Thank you Miss Piggot, for starting ‘story week’ in third year infants and lighting a fire in my gut.
In a world already crammed full of so much stuff, thank you for reading my story.
Steven
Copyright
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2014
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers
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Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
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Copyright © Steven Camden 2014
Cover artwork © Keri Smith
Jacket design by HarperCollins
Steven Camden asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007511204
Ebook Edition © 2013 ISBN: 9780007511211
Version: 2013-12-20
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