Chapter Thirteen
“Not revising?” a slightly smug sounding Sara asked as she got home from picking Daisy up. It was only a few minutes after Imogen had got home herself after walking slowly with Zach, and Sara found Imogen lounged out on the sofa. It wasn’t a text book occupying her hands: no, it was a magazine – not something likely to help her in her exams.
“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” Imogen asked, rolling her eyes and turning back to the magazine. That silenced Sara for a moment, and Imogen flicked the pages noisily as she sat and pulled out a large history text book, and began revising.
“Are the latest tales concerning Brangelina really going to help you with your exams?” asked an exasperated Sara.
“Is revising twenty-four seven really going to help you gain a social life? No, didn’t think so.” Another page was turned loudly; more silence followed from Sara.
Imogen knew some revision really was wise: she just couldn’t bring herself to do any, especially with Sara sat there preaching. If anything, that made her more determined to focus on her magazine.
“Could you test me?” Why couldn’t the girl just leave her in peace?! Her voice sounded slightly intimidated, which Imogen was glad to hear – she didn’t want her to think they could suddenly be friends because she’d said she didn’t mind living at this place. Not that she was sure Sara had heard that bit of the conversation.
“Fine, hand me the book.” With a sigh, she stretched out to reach the book, doing anything for a bit of peace and quiet. Somewhere deep down there was a niggling sense that she ought to get some sort of revision in…and that maybe she should try to be a little nicer to Sara. Not nice, just a little less mean: after all, having decided she wanted to stay here, she didn’t want to give Ella some silly reason to not want her and Abby around anymore. Sara smiled tentatively; Imogen grimaced.
Glancing down the page, she looked for something she could quiz the girl on. It was, of course, exactly the same stuff she would need to know for the exam, and so it wouldn’t do her any harm to try and take in some of the dates at least. She wanted something to write about when they had to sit there for an hour and a half…
“When was the Reichstag Fire?”
“February twenty-seventh, nineteen thirty…was it nineteen thirty four? No, three.”
“Three. Who got the blame for the fire?”
“Van Der Lubbe.”
“When did Hitler become Chancellor?”
“January thirtieth, nineteen thirty-three.”
“Sara, I think you know it all,” Imogen said, although not in the usual tone of disdain she usually saved for Sara. “I can’t see what else on this page you’ll need to know.”
“Want me to test you?”
“I wouldn’t know any of it…I haven’t done any revision at all. Besides, I wasn’t even in your class for most of this.” She’d started her GCSE syllabus at a different school, where their history course had been done in different manner: whilst she knew most of the stuff on medicine through the ages that Sara was currently studying, and would continue to study for the rest of the year, she didn’t know the stuff they’d done before she’d got there. That meant a lot of catch up work – and really, a lot of revision – was required.
“You can borrow my notes to revise from, if you want,” Sara offered, chucking a load of revision cards, kept together with an elastic band, in Imogen’s direction. She caught them nimbly, and was a little surprised: she and Sara didn’t get on. They never would – why was Sara trying to be nice?
“Cheers.” Maybe some history revision would be sensible…after all, that was one of the first mocks. She began to flick through them, attempting to memorise the facts, as Sara took the text book back and began to look through the next double page.
“Oh, by the way, you had a phone call this morning. It was just after you left for school…Jack someone. He asked for you, I told him you weren’t in – but then he just hung up. Didn’t leave a message or anything.”
The name didn’t evoke the same shocked response as it had done the last time she’d heard it. She’d accepted her reaction had been stupid, and had realised that Jack would probably be back in touch after their last conversation. She hadn’t thought it’d be so soon but…well, she’d known it would be coming. Her plan was simple: ignore him until he gave up and left her alone. She simply nodded; “Thanks.” Her response was murmured, but Sara didn’t notice the sudden change in attitude – she was engrossed in her revision, and Imogen was glad. She hoped it wouldn’t be too long before Jack gave up: she didn’t want all her new family asking questions she didn’t want to answer…
***
Imogen didn’t sleep well that night. Her dreams were plagued with vicious images that she didn’t want to think on: those she usually avoided dwelling on. Her mother’s face, one bruise above her eye, one on her jaw line, hidden expertly with make-up, yet still visible. Her brother’s face, that last time she’d seen him, the way she still imagined him; young, a little scared, intent on making a new life. He was surely the trigger to these dreams…him and his phone calls.
His face morphed into Fleur’s, and even in her sleep she could feel a faint stabbing pain in her chest, more painful than an ache, as she thought of her sister. Her mother’s, brother’s and sister’s faces flashed by, in various different scenarios; the day that Fleur and Jack left staying fresh in her mind as though it had only been that morning.
Even in her dreams, she witnessed it from the same place she had done in real life: sat on the fifth stair up from the bottom, the darkness cloaking her. She could see them though: the moonlight and streetlamps ensured that. She hadn’t known, in the dream or in real-life, whether they could see her: she thought not. They had a bag each, and talked in whispered tones that were barely as loud as their soft footsteps.
“You don’t think he’ll-” Fleur’s voice was a little nervous, but Jack cut her off.
“We’ve been through this, Fleur,” His voice was soft yet menacing, “He won’t. She’ll keep us here forever if we don’t get out now.”
“But he’s-”
“Their marriage isn’t perfect. Doesn’t mean we have to stick around.”
“Imogen?” For a moment, again in both real-life and the dream, Imogen thought she’d been spotted. A second later, she realised it was merely a question, phrased so shortly because Jack seemed to cut everything else off after the first couple of words.
“Will be fine. Let’s go before you change your mind – I’m leaving tonight, whether you’re with me or not.”
The dream came abruptly to an end and melted into another, this one not a memory. In her dream Jack had found out where she was living…only it was the same Jack from the first dream. She couldn’t imagine him any way else, although of course he would be nearing twenty-three by now. Her eleven-year-old self’s memories of him were all she had, and they were more than she wanted: in this dream, she was even more terrified than when they had left.
His face, Zach’s, Eve’s, Carrie’s, Sara’s, Ella’s, William’s, Abby’s, Fleur’s…they all sped by in her dream faster than she could acknowledge, two worlds colliding that she didn’t want to collide; two worlds that seemed as though they should be kept apart. Zach, Jack, Fleur, Abby, Eve. Violet, Daryl, James, Millie, Dana, Daisy. The faces were morphing into each other, hardly recognisable, her mother’s face coming out among them all, then her father’s... she awoke with a quiet scream.
A second later, she was horrified at how badly her brother’s call seemed to be affecting her…dredging up memories from the past that she didn’t want to think about. Things she managed successfully to block out most of the time.
Rolling over with a quiet sigh, glad that Abby had not been woken by her scream, she sank into yet another dream – and nightmare – filled slumber.
***
The routine of school, Zach, homework and revision felt normal very quickly – as if there had never been a week off scho
ol. It was a hectic time of year: all students were doing some sort of revision. Zach felt he had to revise – he didn’t want to give them any excuses to keep him behind again, and poor results could provoke that sort of drastic action – and her other friends were all putting in varying amounts of time in order to secure passing grades in the coming exams. For once, Sara proved to be sort of useful; still annoying, of course, but bearable. Whenever Imogen sat downstairs, she would question her, and she lent her all her revision cards so that she would be able to revise the topics she’d missed out on.
She returned home the Thursday of her first week back hand-in-hand with Zach, who was off to do some revision of his own. Unfortunately, Zach’s presence distracted her from revision, and her presence distracted him – they’d surmised it was probably better to do revision separately, if they hoped to have a chance at getting some decent mock grades.
“See you later?” Imogen asked as she reached the doorway, knowing that several hours of dull but necessary revision lay ahead of her. It was hard to feel like the revision was unnecessary with Sara revising so much; with all the family mentioning it regularly, her earlier philosophy of not bothering had gone out the window.
“Try and stop me.” Zach grinned. “Do you think she’ll let you out for a couple of hours tonight, or will you have to wait until later and sneak out?”
“I’m going to try and come round earlier, with permission – all these late nights are getting to me!” she responded, returning that cheeky grin: if Ella wouldn’t let her out, she’d sneak out anyway. The late nights weren’t bothering her that much – not enough to make her consider giving up an evening with Zach. The problem with sneaking out was waiting for them all to go asleep – and sometimes that took forever.
“Right then…I’ll be expecting you. Enjoy the revision…” Imogen gave him a sarcastic smile at this comment, and pulled his head gently to meet hers so she could give him an all-too-brief parting kiss.
“You too – are you gonna get Eve to revise with you?”
“She said she’s busy…not sure where she’s going.” He let her hand go, ruffled her hair, and began to walk backwards down the garden path. They both needed to get on – and if they stayed talking, they would both put off the revision for as long as possible!
“See you later!” He grinned, turning towards his own house. Imogen did know where Eve was, but she knew better than to tell him – Eve would kill her. Besides, she didn’t think it would do Zach any good, to know that Eve’s free time was spent with Daryl…and that they most probably weren’t revising. Still, she felt a little uncomfortable keeping things from him, even though it was to protect her best friend.
With a sigh, she unlocked the door; she tried to concentrate on the fact that, after a few hours of hell, she would be free to spend her evening with him.
Dumping her bags in the hallway, she went to put the kettle on: after all, an awful lot could be improved by a hot chocolate.
“Sara?” she called, having noticed her bag in the hallway. “Want some hot chocolate, while we revise?”
“Please!” called a voice from upstairs. It was odd, this understanding they had come too: perhaps it was the age thing – being the same age, going through all the same school stuff at the same time. It gave them something in common, and a reason to have to spend time with one another. Grudgingly, Imogen had admitted to herself that Sara wasn’t quite as bad as she’d originally thought. Bad enough, and not someone she wanted to spend time with when she no longer needed to, but not as bad as previously believed.
The fifteen-year-old entered the living room prepared for revision: two mugs of hot chocolate, laden with marshmallows and whipped cream were all she needed. Sara provided the textbooks.
“What are we studying tonight?”
“I thought we could go through some of the English poems? Maybe the ones on other cultures – they’re the ones I’ve done the least revision on.” She phrased it as a question, looking for approval from Imogen.
“Sure. I need to look at those too…” She sighed softly. ‘Dull but necessary,’ she told herself, as she took the first annotated poem, and began to familiarise herself with the notes in Sara’s neat handwriting, sipping her hot chocolate as she did so.
***
An hour later, and they’d had all they could take of poetry; they’d briefly moved onto medicine through time, which Imogen actually found she knew more about that Sara, and so could quiz her, rather than the other way round.
“Four Humours Theory?”
“Hippocrates.”
“Famous pig experiment?”
“Ummm….”
“Galen!” Imogen was slightly triumphant when she knew the answers that Sara didn’t – perhaps because Sara seemed to know pretty much everything!
“Okay, okay. I think I need to look over some of these names again…”
“Shall we take a break? My head’s hurting. Too much revision!” Imogen and Sara laughed in unison. “I think there’s an episode of Friends on in a couple of minutes…a quick half hour break?”
“Well…I guess so.” Sara responded, slightly reluctant, and Imogen rolled her eyes, but switched the TV on.
“Did you want to have a look at the Nazi Germany stuff you didn’t understand later tonight? I know we were going to look at some RE first…”
“Maybe tomorrow afternoon? I’m meant to be going round to Zach’s later….if I’m allowed.” Imogen answered, finding it easier than usual to be civil to her.
“Sure. So, are you two…serious then?” she asked, the Rembrandts playing in the background.
Imogen was thoughtful for a moment, and Sara wondered if she’d overstepped the mark; their relationship already seemed extremely tenuous. However, Imogen was merely contemplating her answer; it was something she’d been asking herself recently, although she’d never admit to that sort of insecurity.
“I guess so. We’ve been together what…a month or so now?” She tried to calculate – it had been longer than that. They’d started dating barely two weeks into the term… a month and a half, two months: whatever, it hadn’t been that long.
“Do you love him?”
“Not your business,” she warned her, trying to avoid an argument; she felt like snapping back at her, but knew that wasn’t sensible. She was counting on her help with the History revision – and so she focused on the episode of Friends. All was silent for a moment.
Did she love him? It was another question that had been floating around her mind lately. She thought about him constantly, and spent as much time as she could with him… and he certainly made her feel some very strong feelings. But love? She wasn’t sure what that felt like.
“Sorry,” Sara murmured a few moments later; before Imogen had a chance to reply, the phone began to ring.
“If it’s…Jack, tell him I’m not in, and to not ring again. Please?” She looked up at Sara, who’d moved to get the phone, hoping an explanation wouldn’t be needed; Sara nodded.
“Hello, Kingsley residence?” Imogen heard; without her permission, her heart sped up a little with anxiety, and her palms began to get clammy. She wished her body wouldn’t react in that way.
“She’s not here, I’m afraid.” It was said with more politeness than Imogen would have used, but with forcefulness too: there was no doubting who was on the other end of the telephone.
“Please don’t call here again. Goodbye.” The phone was hung up, and Sara returned – and didn’t question. She settled back onto the sofa and laughed at some joke or other on the screen. For the first time, Imogen felt oddly, yet willingly, grateful to the teen sat next to her, who’d lied on her behalf without so much as a questioning look.
Chapter Fourteen
Exam Week. Despite the fact that they were only mock exams, it was a busy week for all the Year Eleven students, Imogen included. The week annoyed her for several reasons, the main being that she couldn’t spend much time with Zach, either in or out of school. In school wa
s a problem because their exams disrupted their timetables: they didn’t have lunchtimes together, and they tended to have exams when they would have had lessons together. To add to it all the weather was miserable – although expectedly so, for it was November. Rain poured down most days, and the school gym, where exams were held, was freezing. The exam mood had fallen over everyone; no-one seemed to be considering them as just mocks. It was the first week of full exams any of them had ever had, and it was having an extremely negative effect on most of their, and their teachers’, moods – which resulted in the few lessons they had being extremely fractious.
The issue of Jack also loomed over Imogen’s head, but she tried to forget it – at least for now. There was no use in letting it interfere with her exams, or make her panic any more than was strictly necessary. Although his phone calls didn’t stop, she successfully managed to evade talking to him, and she was hopeful – if not confident – that he would give up soon enough.
Family Portrait (Kingsley Family Trilogy Book 1) Page 12