Storms

by Chris Vick

‘You probably think he deserves all this. Dad too …’ She sighed, then thumped the door. Phoebe jumped. It surprised Hannah too. She hadn’t known she was going to do it. ‘Why didn’t he tell me?’ she said. ‘Why didn’t he tell me about Dad?’

  ‘He was trying to protect you. Even if it meant losing you. He didn’t want to hurt you. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but … he was doing the right thing. At least he thought he was.’

  ‘Bloody hell, you’re standing up for him,’ Hannah said, sniffling through tears.

  ‘Well,’ Phoebe shrugged. ‘That is what he was doing. And once he’s out and you’re together, I think he’ll do right by you.’

  ‘You think we should … make a go of things? If … when he comes out.’

  ‘Well, look at the state of you, Hann. If this isn’t love, I don’t know what is.’ Phoebe reached into her pocket and handed Hannah a clean handkerchief. ‘I know he’ll have your back, always. He’ll take care of you just as you’ll take care of him. Means I don’t have to all the time. Frankly that would be a relief.’

  Hannah laughed, and Phoebe grinned at getting the reaction she wanted. She clicked her fingers, waved one in the air and turned to face Hannah.

  ‘Hey! Maybe you can go out as a four: you and Jake, Bess and Si. What do you think?’

  Hannah laughed again. ‘I think you’re an idiot, that’s what I think. Start the engine.’

  Hannah

  THE NEXT TIME Hannah visited, April came too.

  April looked at Jake, watched him and examined him.

  ‘I … don’t know what to say,’ she said. ‘Do you think he can hear us, at all?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Hannah held April’s limp, cold hand. Hannah squeezed, and April squeezed back.

  It was good, April being there. It forced Hannah to put on a brave face, like Phoebe told her to.

  ‘Hi, Jake,’ said Hannah. ‘I’m back. Your mum too.’

  ‘Hello … Jake,’ said April.

  ‘I’ve left home,’ said Hannah. ‘Dad is there, you see. And he blames me for a lot of this. For calling the police. I’ve been there and picked up some stuff. Beano’s stuff too. So … I’m living at yours. For now.’ She paused, half expecting a reaction. A flicker of eyelids. A murmur. But Jake was a frozen statue.

  ‘She’s in your room, Jake,’ said April. ‘She won’t let me wash the sheets.’

  ‘Because they smell of you,’ said Hannah. And felt embarrassed for saying that in front of Jake’s mum.

  ‘She wears that stupid T-shirt of yours, son. The torn one I’m always trying to throw out.’

  ‘It feels odd being there,’ said Hannah. ‘Without you, I mean. Familiar and strange at the same time. But it’s like I’ve got a new family. Your family …’

  ‘Hattie’s loving it,’ said April. They both smiled at the memory of that morning: Hattie following Hannah from room to room.

  ‘Can I come in?’ she’d pleaded, when Hannah was in the loo.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can we do a makeover?’

  ‘Another one? I’m a bit busy. Got to get ready to visit Jake.’ But when she’d come out, Hattie was waiting there, clutching her teddy, looking up at Hannah with wide brown eyes.

  ‘He’d want you to look pretty … I mean you are pretty, but …’

  ‘Go on, then,’ said Hannah.

  ‘Yay!’

  She’d sat, patiently, while Hattie got busy, knowing she could scrape it off in the car.

  Beano lay on the bed.

  ‘He’s not really allowed on beds,’ said Hannah.

  ‘He is here – Jake wouldn’t mind.’ Hattie ran off and came back with two biscuits.

  ‘He’ll get fat,’ said Hannah. ‘Collies aren’t really meant to be fat.’

  ‘It’s okay. We’ll walk him when you get back.’

  Hannah and April smiled at each other.

  ‘So I’ve got the little sister I never had. Seems I’ve gained a brother too,’ said Hannah. ‘His name is Sean. Christ, he’s annoying. Not sure he likes me. Takes the piss out of my “posh” accent. My clothes. The amount of time I spend in the bathroom. My pesky-tarian diet. I think he’s not liking being in an all-girl household. I think he wants you back.’

  ‘He plays tough, doesn’t he?’ said April. ‘But he’s scared, Jake. He doesn’t want to come and see you. Keeps saying there’s no point. But every time me or Hannah come in the door, he looks at us hard. He can’t hide the hope.’

  ‘So all in all, it’s great being at your house, Jake.’

  ‘It’s not what you’re used to,’ said April.‘We haven’t even got a dishwasher.’

  ‘You have now,’ said Hannah.

  *

  Hannah visited daily after that. She talked about different things.

  ‘The whales vanished. The police said there was no trace when they arrived. Honestly? I think they’re dubious about whales being out there at all, like it was just a cover story. I don’t know what happened to Little One. I think she might be dead … but I don’t know.

  ‘It’s strange, how I feel about it. Sad, of course. But I accept it. Because we did what we could, didn’t we? We saved some of them. We stopped a lot of them from stranding. That has to be enough, right?

  ‘I know that’s what you’d tell me, Jake. And I’d cry, and say how awful it is and how we didn’t do enough. And you’d tell me not to be silly. And I’d still feel bad. But here’s the oddest thing: you’re not here to tell me, so I’m telling myself. And it’s making sense.’

  *

  ‘The police received a letter from someone called Gavin Jones. This Gavin bloke sent a copy to me too.

  ‘It seems the guy has quite a history. In and out of children’s homes in South Wales. A string of convictions.

  ‘He says he found the drugs on the boat. He says he tried to sell them to the men.

  ‘I think they might believe this Gavin. I think you might be off the hook.

  ‘He says it was all his doing, and you tried to talk him out of it at every step.

  ‘When the police got to the island, the gangsters were in the water, swimming for their lives.

  ‘So Goofy’s vanished. With Dad’s motorboat. We’ve been round his bedsit. Looks like he’s been, grabbed a few things and scarpered. The police can’t find him anywhere. But if Goofy doesn’t want to be found, they’ll have a job, won’t they?’ She laughed. ‘I guess you’re not surprised to hear that. I’ll bet you’re rooting for him. I imagine he’s gone back wherever he came from. Or somewhere new. Who even is he anyway? I mean: Goofy. What is it with you bloody surfers and your stupid nicknames? He’s someone’s son, right? Has he got brothers or sisters? I bet you don’t even know. Boys are strange.’

  *

  The next day:

  ‘Christ, Jake. Why did everything have to fucking fall apart? It was all … safe, good, secure.

  ‘Perfect Hannah Lancaster. Perfect life. I had a home. I had a future.

  ‘The storms came and buggered it all up.

  ‘You buggered it all up. Dad did a lot too. But definitely you. What were you thinking?’

  She had an urge to punch him. Which was sick. But she clenched her fist and put it over him and shook it at his face, then laughed wondering what a nurse would think if she passed the window, seeing her raise a fist at someone in a coma. Yup. That was pretty twisted.

  She laughed again. Too much. But knew Jake would laugh too.

  ‘Go on, then,’ he’d say.

  And she would. She’d punch his shoulder.

  ‘Didn’t even hurt,’ he’d say.

  And she’d punch him again.

  ‘You’ll have to try harder.’ And she’d punch him again. And he’d mock-sneer: ‘Pathetic.’

  She didn’t punch him. She held his hand and said: ‘I miss you.’

  And watched him, a good half-hour before she spoke again.

  ‘It’s all broken now. Blown apart like a straw house in a gale.

  ‘Well, Jakey b
oy, these storms have caused a lot of damage. One thing has unravelled after another.

  ‘Everything’s undone. Everything.

  ‘I feel naked and numb. But … here’s the weird thing … free. There’s nothing left to lose now, you see …

  …

  …

  ‘Apart from you, of course.’

  She cried. Then checked her phone. Phoebe would be waiting in the car outside, ready to take her home. Her new home. She stood, leant over, and kissed Jake.

  ‘No chance.’

  The voice was barely there.

  Had she imagined it? She looked at his face, but his eyelids were still and his mouth unmoving.

  ‘Jake?’ she whispered. ‘Jake?’ She thought she should call a nurse, or press the emergency button. But she didn’t, as if the words she’d heard were a spell, not yet completed, and she was afraid to break it.

  His finger, an inch from hers, jumped. Barely, the tiniest movement. His eyelids twitched and opened. He saw her.

  ‘All right, babe,’ he said.

  Hannah leant over and put her forehead to Jake’s.

  She closed her eyes. Tears ran down her face, and fell on his stubbled cheek.

  Jake

  THE TAXI DROVE down the lane.

  The late season grockles had gone. The windows of the cottages were dark, and the grass on their lawns had grown long.

  His family waited outside their home: Mum holding Beano on a lead, Sean skulking in the doorway, Hattie waving madly.

  As Hannah helped him climb out of the taxi, Jake took in how everything had changed just while he’d been in hospital.

  The lawn was mowed to stubble, and the Wendy house painted blue. Its door was open, and it was full of logs.

  The border by the wall was exploding with autumn flowers. The burning sun of orange devil, soft, purple lavender and other, new plants that he didn’t know. The veg patch had been freshly dug too.

  ‘Late for planting, isn’t it?’ he said.

  ‘Winter greens,’ said Hannah. ‘Free food for cold months.’ She carried his bag inside and he hobbled slowly behind, wondering. Was Hannah staying that long? Had she planned that far ahead?

  Inside, a hand-painted banner hung over the kitchen doorway:

  Welcome home, Jake.

  There were balloons, candles and flowers in a vase on the table. The sideboard was bare and scrubbed, and the walls had been painted white.

  And there was space.

  ‘Where is everything?’ said Jake.

  ‘Car boot,’ said April.

  ‘Make any money?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Mum. ‘But we didn’t half get rid of a lot of stuff.’

  ‘Did you fix those shelves too?’

  ‘Sean did that.’

  ‘Nice. All right, bro?’

  ‘All right,’ said Sean, his hands in his pockets.

  ‘You gonna give me a hug?’ said Jake. Sean just shrugged.

  ‘Supper’s grilled mackerel, spuds and salad,’ said Hannah. ‘Those fish are a good price right now.’

  Jake’s mouth watered from the smell. He sat down, and Hattie fetched him a beer. It tasted better than any he’d ever drunk. Maybe better than any beer anyone had ever drunk.

  They all sat watching him, like some alien that had landed in their house. The same way they’d looked at Hannah, the day she’d first come round for tea.

  ‘Jesus, stop staring. I’m fine, guys. Really.’

  ‘How do you feel?’ asked April.

  ‘All right.’

  ‘No brain damage, then?’ said Sean. ‘Like we’d notice.’

  ‘Sean!’ said April.

  Hattie gasped, and threw herself at him. Jake put a hand on the top of her head. ‘I’m fine, little sis, ya hear me? Fine.’

  ‘Can you remember what happened?’ said April.

  ‘Not really. I remember the boat, heading out. The rest is gone.’ That wasn’t exactly true. He had pictures in his head. A man with a gun. The whales. Cutting a net. But only snapshots, no video. ‘Any case, I’m sure Sean will fill me in.’

  ‘Yeah, I got the whole thing taped up here.’ Sean pointed at his head. ‘All the gruesome details.’

  ‘Were you scared?’ said Jake.

  ‘Nah,’ said Sean. ‘It was a blast.’

  They ate and drank and talked, mostly about all the work that had been done on the house. How Hannah had organised them all.

  He waited for the bomb-drop questions about cocaine, about guns, about Hannah’s dad. But they didn’t come. Maybe now wasn’t the time. Not with Hattie there.

  ‘What’s the news on the rent?’ he said.

  ‘I’m paying some,’ said Hannah.

  ‘You can’t do that,’ said Jake. ‘Mum, tell her.’

  ‘I have. When I refuse the money, she goes and buys groceries instead and says it’s rent.’

  ‘I can’t stay and eat for free,’ said Hannah, ‘so deal with it.’ She stuck out her tongue. ‘Besides, I’ve got a contract. A water-quality survey. I have to travel round the beaches collecting water and testing it. Beano loves it.’

  ‘Not exactly Hawaii, is it?’ said Jake.

  ‘There’s time for that,’ she said, and smiled. ‘One day.’ Under the table, her toe stroked his ankle and slid up his trouser leg. He felt a warm glow, a tingle. It was affection, but he felt a stirring too, from the touch of her flesh on his.

  ‘Sean’s doing shifts down the shop,’ said April. ‘We’re coping. Besides, all this … shenanigans, it makes you stop and think. All that money stuff. All the stuff that stops you sleeping at night. I don’t worry about it, at the moment. Isn’t that crazy? Maybe it takes something like this to make you see what matters.

  ‘Anyway, we’re coping. We don’t have to move out. We’ll manage. It’s going to be hard, but the money … it’s not important.’

  ‘Mum, of course it’s important.’

  ‘Jakey. My son. I almost lost you.’ She reached over and grabbed his hand. She couldn’t speak then. She grabbed a napkin and wiped a tear away. Hannah cried a tear too, just from seeing April. Hattie too. Sean stuck his fingers down his throat. April laughed and smiled as she choked her words out.

  ‘We’re here, together. And you’re alive and well. What else matters, son? What is there to worry about?’

  There was so much to deal with. Not just the money, but the police and the inquest. He’d be back to hospital for scans too. There was plenty to worry about.

  But …

  There was Hannah, with the warmth of her foot on his skin.

  There was Mum, crying tears of joy.

  There was Sean, chomping on food that wasn’t pizza, and enjoying it.

  There was Hattie, feeding crispy mackerel skin to Beano.

  He looked out of the back-door window, to the porch. There was his board. Waiting for the day he’d get back in the water.

  He looked at the chair in the corner, wedged between the fridge and the wall, the one Goofy always sat on. It had books on the seat and a dishcloth hanging off the back.

  ‘I don’t deserve you lot,’ he said. He raised his bottle, the others raised their glasses, and everyone clinked. ‘It’s good to be home.’

  Then it was his turn to fight back tears.

  Sean glared in horror. ‘Jesus, dude. Get a grip. You done with that?’ He pointed his knife at Jake’s half-empty plate.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I’ll finish it,’ said Sean. He grabbed it, and shovelled what was left of Jake’s dinner on to his own plate.

  Something twinged in Jake’s mind. A sound-memory. Gulls’ cries. Because he’d been thinking about Goofy.

  ‘I’ll finish it. That’s what he said,’ said Jake.

  ‘Who?’ said Hannah.

  ‘Goofy. Before I passed out, that’s what he said. I’ll finish it. I’ll cut her free. He meant Little One. She must have still been alive.’

  There was a knock at the front door. Soft and slow. Hardly there.

&n
bsp; ‘I’ll get it,’ said Hattie, leaping up. They heard the front door creak open and a low voice speak. April and Hannah craned their necks to hear. Beano nosed his way through the door, and barked.

  ‘Who is it, love?’ asked April. Hattie came back.

  ‘Hannah,’ she said. ‘It’s your mum.’

  Hannah

  AS SHE WALKED through the dark hallway, Hannah looked back at the thin light visible through the kitchen door: the orange glow of happiness. Then she turned her gaze to the figure framed in the open door. Mum didn’t have any make-up on and the skin round her eyes was baggy and puffed with worry and tiredness. But she was stroking Beano, and that was putting a smile on her face.

  ‘Hello, Hannah,’ she said.

  ‘Hi, Mum.’ They hugged. Mum clung a while, feeling small and withered in Hannah’s arms. The Mum-hen who had cared for her with soup and sandwiches was now just a shadow.

  ‘Would you like to come in?’ said Hannah. ‘I’m sure April wouldn’t mind. She’d like to see you.’

  ‘Right. Of course she would. The wife of the man who almost got her son killed. No, Hann. We need to talk. Just you and me.’

  ‘She’s not like that, Mum. None of them are. Please come in.’

  Mum shook her head. She walked into the garden, away from the house. Hannah followed and Mum turned, clenching her hands tightly.

  ‘Please come home, Hannah. We miss you.’

  Hannah’s insides churned. When she spoke, her voice trembled.

  ‘I miss you too, Mum. Every day. It’s just, with Dad … you know? I don’t see him the same way now. He’s not … Dad any more.’

  ‘Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.’

  ‘The last argument … It was intense.’

  Mum bit her lip and shuffled, looking unsure of herself.

  ‘He’s trying to do the right thing,’ she said.

  ‘How?’ said Hannah.

  ‘He’s making a plea bargain.’

  ‘To save his skin.’

  ‘No. The house will be sold; his businesses will go into liquidation. He will go to prison whatever he does.

  ‘He doesn’t have anything left to lose, Hannah. Only you.

  ‘At first he was going to play the innocent, pretend it was all Rocky, that he never knew anything about the drugs. But he’s changed his mind. He’s telling the police everything. You see … whatever you said to him on the cliff that night, well, let’s just say I think he knows it’s the only way he’s ever going to get you back. By making things right … or as right as they can be under the circumstances. Will you see him?’