Caramel Hearts

by E. R. Murray

  “Have a lovely visit,” she says, finally handing over some coins.

  I feel a violent rush of shame sweep through me. How could anyone enjoy a visit here? It’s a place for losers and degenerates. Everyone knows that. Turning, I stop in my tracks, my heart flipping like an acrobat.

  Maddy is wiping splatters of dark red sauce from her yellow T-shirt, her blond hair falling into her face as she bends over, trying to clean herself up. I guess her mam must have lost the plot again.

  “Are you all right, dear?” the woman behind the counter asks.

  Before I can sneak away, Mad Dog looks up. It looks like she’s been crying. Tears line her cheeks in tiny streams, mixing with her foundation and powder. And her mascara is smudged across her face. If she weren’t so scary, I’d tell her.

  It takes a moment for Maddy to recognize me. When she does, her eyes darken and her lips curl.

  “What are you looking at, ginger pig? You might think you’re great wearing makeup but you’re still ugly.”

  The lady behind the counter tuts and mumbles something under her breath. Maddy shoots her an evil look. Saying nothing, I put my head down and rush past as quickly as I can. As soon as I turn the corner, I run, trying not to shake the cans too much. When I get back to the games room, Mam and Harriet are leaning on the table, deep in conversation. I hand the drinks over, my heart thumping.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “Harriet was just telling me about your cooking… Liv, I’m so proud of you!”

  Mam pulls me close and I melt into the hug.

  “Are you OK?” mouths Harriet, draining her can. She motions with her hand that my face looks weird. I touch my left ear – something I haven’t done in years, and Hatty snorts Diet Coke out of her nose.

  “Now where’s that knife?” asks Mam, letting go.

  “Oh. I forgot it.” I look nervously towards the door.

  “I don’t want fudge anyway, Mam,” says Harriet quickly, still trying to dry her face with the back of her hand.

  “Me neither,” I say.

  “You’re just being kind,” smiles Mam. “But losers, weepers, and all that!” She bites off a huge chunk and gobbles it down.

  We all chuckle and my heart swells with pride. Mam is proud of me.

  “This brings back so many memories,” says Mam, a faraway look in her eyes.

  “Like what?” I ask, almost too quickly.

  “Old dreams. Silly old dreams that once seemed so real. Summery picnics, chips on the beach – do you remember that trip to Whitby?”

  “The one where we jumped waves?”

  “And our noses got all red from the wind?” adds Harriet.

  “That’s the one! Those were the days. This takes me back – thanks, Liv.”

  I puff myself up, tall and confident, feeling like I’ve grown an inch or two.

  “It’s nothing,” I say

  “Nothing?” says Mam, shoving another chunk into her mouth. “It’s amazing. It’s just like…”

  As Mam pauses, I exchange a nervous glance with my sister.

  “Go on,” urges Harriet.

  Mam’s eyes mist over.

  “I was going to say, it reminds me of one I used to make. I wanted to open a café once, you know? With my friend, Rosa – remember her, Hatty? We were going to bake all our own cakes and serve tea in mismatched china cups.”

  “You still could,” I say.

  “I had all my own recipes – there was one for peanut-butter fudge, just like this.”

  I gesture with my eyes that we should tell Mam about the cookbook, but Harriet shakes her head.

  “Are you two OK?” asks Mam, eyeing us suspiciously.

  “We’re fine,” says Harriet.

  “What happened? To the café idea?” I ask.

  Mum’s eyes cloud over and shadows pass over her face. I ignore the “you’ve-done-it-now” look from Harriet, and wait.

  “It was just make-believe. Let’s have a game. Shall we play Round Robin? You two go first and I’ll play the winner.”

  I open my mouth to ask Mam more questions, but Harriet nudges me to be quiet. I get it – admitting about the recipe book means admitting I went through Mam’s private belongings. And asking too many questions only dredges up the past – including Dad’s affair. Harriet wants to preserve Mam’s good mood, just as much as I do.

  “Deal,” we shout in unison, picking up our bats.

  Mum watches as we battle it out over the net.

  “Yay! I win!” I shout, as I score the match point.

  “Looks like you’re on, Mam,” says Harriet, offering the bat.

  I watch Mam position herself in the sun, bat poised and her thumb raised, signalling she’s ready. There’s a huge grin on her face and I notice the sparkle has returned to Harriet’s eyes too. It’s a glimpse of how things used to be – how they could be again. I feel my own mouth stretch wide, turning into a smile big enough to swallow up the entire beautiful scene.

  Rocky Road

  Because life isn’t always straightforward, you need a few treats to remind you that there’s still goodness in the world. Make when you’re worried, give with love and enjoy with a happy heart.

  INGREDIENTS

  400 g/14¼ oz milk chocolate chunks

  8 bars of chocolate-covered Turkish Delight I large packet of big, fluffy marshmallows (pink and white)

  100 g/3½ oz blanched almonds

  HOW TO MAKE THE MAGIC HAPPEN

  1. Grab a loaf tin and line with cling film, letting a bit hang over the top all the way around.

  2. Chop the Turkish Delight into eight pieces per bar. Smash up the almonds and use scissors to cut the marshmallows into chunky pieces.

  3. Melt the chocolate in a bowl over a saucepan of simmering water, stirring all the time to prevent burning (this will keep it heavenly). When melted and velvety smooth, add all the yummy bits.

  4. Stir well to make the chunky delights spread evenly. Transfer it all to a loaf tin and smooth with a spatula.

  5. Cover with cling film and put in the fridge for at least 4 hours, or until it has set. Cut into slices (be careful – a heavy knife is best) and serve. Don’t forget to eat some yourself to make that heart happy, and watch your troubles melt away with every bite.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Frosty Air Lifts Like Fog in the Rain

  When Sarah phones me the next day to tell me that Rocky Road is Jack’s favourite, I can’t believe my luck. The recipe is waiting for me on page thirty-three, and it sounds amazing. Before I can chicken out, I throw myself into baking.

  The following morning, as soon as the register’s been taken, Mrs Pearl asks her usual question. I’m crapping myself, but I clear my throat and put up my hand. Sarah’s encouraging smile helps.

  “I have something to share,” I say. My face is hot and clammy, and I’m as jittery as a bag of frogs as everyone turns to look at me. I know what they’re thinking – they’re thinking, what’s she got to share that could possibly interest us?

  “Good! Go ahead,” says Mrs Pearl, looking mildly surprised. Leaning back in her chair and folding her arms, she smiles. “I’m sure we’d all love to hear it.”

  The class erupts in loud whispers. Purposely avoiding everyone’s gaze, I try to stay focused. If I catch Jack’s eye, I’ll back out. As Mrs Pearl calls order, my heart races and blood thumps in my ears. Almost ready to combust, I wait for the murmuring to stop.

  “Go ahead – I think we’re all listening now,” says Mrs Pearl, throwing an approving glance towards Jack.

  “Well, I’ve… kind of… been baking.” My voice is so shaky, I sound like I’m on a bumpy bus. Sarah beams at me. I try to concentrate on that, rather than the sniggers. “I’ve brought some in for everyone to try.”

  The class falls silent.

  I rifle through my rucksack and slam a giant tin of Rocky Road on the desk. When I remove the lid, several people lean in to take a look, making noises of approval.

 
“Why don’t you hand them out?” suggests Mrs Pearl. “They look delicious.”

  She climbs out of her chair and takes a good-sized chunk. No one else moves. Only Sarah takes a piece. I feel sweat beading on my upper lip as I sink lower in my seat and wait. Just as I’m about to replace the lid, I hear chair legs scrape behind me. I guess it’s Jack coming to my rescue, so I flash my best smile. But I needn’t have bothered. It’s Valerie Jeckyll, the tall, gangly girl with lots of freckles from Sarah’s running group. Sarah’s best friend when I’m not around.

  “Looks good,” she says. The class watches as Valerie bites into a chunk and smacks her lips. “Tastes even better. God, this is amazing!” She gobbles it down, licking her fingers afterwards.

  “No one else?” asks Mrs Pearl.

  “Here, I’ll try one,” calls a voice from the back.

  Slowly, the tin passes from person to person. They each take a slice and nod approval. The frosty air lifts like fog in the rain, and I feel my shoulders relaxing.

  My heart flutters as the tin makes its way to Jack. I made several batches until it was perfect and I only burned one lot – daydreaming about the moment he’d taste it and instantly realize how sorry I am. My hands tremble as the tin inches closer and closer. I try not to get too carried away, but I visualize his gorgeous smile as he tastes my food – just like he talked about that day in the supermarket.

  But once again, I’m proved a complete moron.

  When the tin reaches Jack, he shakes his head, refusing to even acknowledge the Rocky Road I made especially for him. What was it the recipe said? Make when you’re worried, give with love and enjoy with a happy heart. Where’s my promised reward?

  My hopes sink to deeper depths of despair. I never knew you could hurt this bad when you wanted to say sorry but no one would listen. I see the recipe book for what it is: a pile of nonsense. Just like Mam’s café idea. Chasing a stupid dream – isn’t that all I’m doing? As far as I’m concerned, Jack’s reaction says it all. There are no dreams in Egerton and no happy hearts.

  Ignoring Sarah’s attempts to look encouraging, I stare at my desk. The positive reactions from the others are wiped out by Jack’s cold response. Why wouldn’t he try some – is he really still that angry with me? Unless he’s realized I was running from the dinner hall that day. Unless he knows I’m the thief. I sink as low in my chair as I can manage without sliding off.

  The rest of that morning’s class passes in a cloud of gloom. When Valerie comes up at the end and asks for more, I’m all fake smiles and fake laughs. As I get the tin from my bag again, Sarah dashes past and winks.

  “I’ll see you after running,” she says, hurrying by. Valerie thanks me and dashes off to catch up to Sarah. I sigh, wishing Sarah hadn’t left me alone, when I hear a noise behind me.

  There’s someone still here. I cross my fingers – please let it be Jack.

  My heartbeat quickens as I hurriedly try to replace the lid. I hear footsteps and swing round.

  “Jack!” I say, trying to make my voice sound as normal as possible.

  He stays quiet. Shuffles from foot to foot. He looks so incredibly handsome, it freezes my tongue and we both stand there, awkward. Opening his mouth to say something, Jack quickly changes his mind and pushes past me without saying a word.

  I spin on my heels, wanting to call him back, but I find myself tongue-tied. What could I say anyway? Shaking, I return to packing my things, listening to Jack’s footsteps fade. Then I crumple into my chair, put my head on the desk and hit it once with each fist.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sharp as a Carving Knife

  “Liv, there’s someone here to see you.”

  Harriet’s voice rings out loud and clear over my music. I stop mid dance and pause – the only person that ever comes to see me is Sarah, and she’s at her grandma’s for the night.

  “Liv!”

  “I’m coming!”

  I check my hair in the mirror before running downstairs to the front door. When I get there, I feel my bones turn to jelly.

  It’s Jack.

  “I hope you don’t mind me coming round…” he says.

  I glance nervously at Harriet. She winks covertly as she shoves past, gently nudging me in the ribs.

  “I’ll leave you two to it,” she says, disappearing off into the living room.

  “If I’ve caught you at a bad time, I can go…”

  He looks amazing in blue. I’m trying to check him out, without being too obvious, when I notice the package in his hand. I quickly look away. It can’t be for me.

  “No, stay! It’s just… I thought you weren’t talking to me…”

  I realize I’m rubbing one leg with the other like a stork, and stare at the floor, as if it’s covered in the most interesting carpet ever. He even has great taste in shoes – scuffed blue and brown Adidas.

  “This is for you,” he says, thrusting the package into my hands, taking me by surprise.

  The package tumbles to the ground and I wince as it hits the floor with a loud clunk.

  “Are you going to ask him in or what?” shouts Harriet.

  I should have known she’d be eavesdropping. Scooping up the gift, I hold the door wide so Jack can come in. He towers over me as I close the door quietly.

  “About earlier, I was just… I didn’t know what to do or say. I heard Maddy’s still on your case and I feel awful. It’s all my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault. Forget about it,” I say. “C’mon up. I was just chilling out.”

  Together, we slip up the stairs.

  When we step into my room, I realize there’s underwear all over the floor and it’s not even clean. There’s junk on every surface: Harriet’s cast-off magazines, nail varnish bottles, spilled makeup and even a pair of rolled-up stripy tights – I usually wear them a few times to save on washing powder. But tidying is a great excuse to put off opening the present from Jack. I hate opening presents in front of people. What if you don’t like it and it shows on your face? Shovelling everything into drawers the best I can – I don’t chance opening the wardrobe – I motion for Jack to sit on the bed.

  “Hey, what are you listening to?” he asks, politely ignoring the mess around him.

  “Johnny Cash.”

  I expect him to laugh or pull a face. If only he hadn’t caught me listening to Mam’s music. On vinyl, of all things. Everyone else has iPods.

  “It’s awesome,” he replies, before jumping up to admire the record player. “Hey, this thing’s cool. It’s totally vintage. I can’t believe it works. I’ve never seen one in action before.”

  “I know – sad, aren’t I?”

  “No, seriously – this is on my wish list. Mum got me an iPod. She thinks I should stay up to date to get on in life. She’s been obsessed with self-improvement since Dad left. But if it’s not broke, why fix it? An iPod’s not going to get them back together…”

  “Do you think they’ll get back together?”

  “Nah. To be honest, I like them better when they’re apart. What about your parents?”

  “No chance. My dad ran off with Mam’s best friend when I was two,” I say, as though I’m an authority on the subject. “So Mam moved back here. I wish she’d stayed in London.”

  “I’m glad she didn’t,” says Jack, catching my eye.

  I turn the music up louder to drown out my embarrassment. Jack jumps up and starts bouncing, pogo-style, in time to “Folsom Prison Blues”.

  “What else’s on your wish list – a trampoline?” I ask, surprising myself.

  It feels good to have another friend – if that’s what he is.

  “I’m not telling you unless you join me,” he shouts over the guitar riffs. Then he lurches forward, grabs me by the hands and drags me onto his makeshift dance floor. I brave a little bounce. I swear I’ll never wash my hands again.

  “That’s it!” cries Jack, launching into a mosh. I relax and let myself go a bit. Within minutes, we’re in full flow, shak
ing our heads like lunatics.

  “What’s going on?” says Harriet, appearing in the doorway.

  We stop instantly.

  “Sorry, Hatty… we were just…”

  “I can see what you were just doing. And you’re in big trouble.”

  I glance at Jack but he doesn’t seem bothered. Then I realize: Hatty’s joking.

  “You’re making a mockery of a good song, jumping around like that,” she says, chuckling. “I believe it should be more like this.”

  Without warning, she whacks the volume up full blast and leaps into the centre of the room, bashing out an over-hammed air guitar.

  “Awesome!” shouts Jack, joining in.

  Soon, we’re all jumping around the room, flinging ourselves about. All too soon, the neighbours start banging on the wall in protest. Panting, Harriet flops down next to the record player and turns the volume down.

  “I guess the party’s over,” she says, before disappearing out of the door and closing it quietly behind her.

  Jack nods his head towards the wall. “You won’t get in trouble, will you?”

  Sweat glistens on his forehead. It looks lovely. Otherworldly – like he’s an angel or something.

  “No – Pauline’s on the other side. That’s Bob and Jane banging. They’re total stoners. They’ll forget about it in ten minutes.”

  Jack chuckles. I can’t believe how easy he is to talk to. I can’t believe he’s here, in my room.

  “Mam says they don’t have a brain cell left between them. Anyway, Hatty was here with us. And she’s the boss.”

  “She sure is. She’s really cool.”

  “Yeah, she’s not bad,” I admit. “But sometimes—”

  “Sometimes you miss having a mum or dad around?”

  I was going to say “sometimes she’s a right cow”, but under the circumstances, I shrug instead.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that, Liv. I miss Dad sometimes too. Don’t miss the two of them arguing but – you know.”

  I nod, even though I don’t – not really. I know nothing about my dad. Not wanting to sound like a hopeless case, I keep quiet. When Jack points at the present, I wish I’d kept talking.