So Wild
Silver Daughters Ink
Book One
By Eve Dangerfield
Dedication
For people who also don’t like hot chips. There are dozens of us. Literally dozens.
So Wild
Copyright © Published 2018, Eve Dangerfield. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
EPUB Edition
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Copyright Page
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Acknowledgements
About Eve Dangerfield
Excerpt from Locked Box
Prologue
“We cannot say much about love at first sight. It happens, and we live in the wake of a new life.”
–Coleman Barks, The Essential Rumi
“Revenge is the sexy man’s justice.”
–Jeremy ‘Jez’ Osborne. Peep Show.
September 30, 1999
Sam could see the boy watching her from behind the cherry tree. He thought he was hidden by the trailing branches and the fence separating his house from hers, but she could see his face through the gaps. He was a strange-looking kid. His face was skinny and his hair was the color of beach sand. She knew who he was—their new neighbour, Something Sanderson.
“Nooo!” Sam’s baby sister Tabby screamed. It was a happy scream. Her other sister Nicole was spraying her with the hose as they filled more water balloons for water balloon hopscotch. It was a hot afternoon and Nicole had invented the game with the intention of keeping them cool. It was just regular hopscotch in which the loser was pelted with water balloons. The loser was usually Tabby, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Again,” she cried whenever they smashed a water balloon on her head. “Again! Again!”
They’d been having a pretty good time, laughing and jumping until Sam saw the boy spying on them. The boy their dad had told them to avoid.
The Sanderson family had moved in three days ago. She, Nicole and Tabby had sat on their front steps and watched men haul white couches and giant pot-plants into the house. When they brought up a piano, a big black one like in the movies, Nicole’s eyes had grown huge. “They must be rich! I’m going to go tell dad!”
They’d ran around to the studio side of their house to tell their dad rich people were moving in. He and the guy he was tattooing laughed.
“Maybe they’re rich and maybe they aren’t,” he said. “When I’m done here we’ll go and say hello, okay? Go and find some nice things we can bring as presents.”
Sam and her sister had rushed into the garden to make a bunch from the roses and collect bottles of homebrew cider their dad kept in crates in the shed. They wanted their mum to help, but she had locked herself inside the office and whenever that happened, they knew not to interrupt.
Lately, her mum and dad had been spending a lot of time in the office. Sam didn’t know what they were doing in there but whenever they left they seemed sadder than when they went in. Yesterday, Nicole had pressed her ear to the door and heard them saying something about a boyfriend. That made no sense. Her dad was her mum’s husband and boyfriends came before husbands. Everyone knew that. Sam made her twin promise never to listen to the office door again.
They’d waited on their front steps with the presents until their dad came outside and walked them over to the new neighbours’ house—a big white one twice the size of theirs. A small blonde woman answered the door. She reminded Sam of a doll, all small and white. She smiled as she took the flowers and cider, but she didn’t look happy.
“I’m Elaine,” she said, in a strange tinkly voice. She and her dad shook hands. “Pleased to meet you.”
“You too! I’m Edgar, and these are my girls Samantha, Nicole and Tabitha,” their dad said, grinning at them in turn.
“Oh, how lovely,” Elaine said, looking sadder than ever. Her gaze flicked between her face and Nicole’s. “Are you girls’ twins?”
“Yes.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Identical in every way, but only on the outside,” their dad said. “Chalk and cheese on the inside. Such a miracle, isn’t it? The way kids turn out? You plant the seed but until it blossoms, you’ve got no idea what’s in store.”
“Yes, very true.” She glanced over her shoulder but there was no one there. “Have you…have you lived next door for long?”
“Ever since I was a boy.”
Sam hoped her dad wasn’t going to tell Elaine the whole story of how his great-grandparents built their house. It was very boring. Luckily, he asked, “What brought your family to this corner of the world?”
As Elaine and her dad talked about London, she, Tabby and Nix stood on tiptoe and examined what they could of the house. It was strange. The DaSilva home was full of hanging plants and paintings and what their mum called ‘kid shit’. This house was as white and clean as Elaine herself. Everything looked like it had been put there on purpose—like in a museum. Years later Sam would see a first generation white iPod and think it looked exactly like the Sanderson house.
“Do you and your husband have any kids?” Sam’s dad asked.
Elaine’s smile went sad again. “Just the one. My son, Scott.”
“Wonderful. How old is he?”
“Eight,” she whispered, as though eight was the scariest of all the numbers. Sam wished she would speak up, her soft fluttery voice was making Nicole nervous. Her twin had her face buried in their dad’s leg and it was so embarrassing when she did that.
Sam stood on her tiptoes looking around for signs of this boy. She couldn’t see any but she guessed anyone with a house this big had to have a trampoline, or at least a few of those pump-action water guns they had on TV.
“Where’s your son?” she asked Elaine. “We can be friends.”
Elaine smiled and for the first time, she looked happy doing it. “What a lovely offer, Scott’s with his auntie this afternoon but I’m sure—”
“Elaine!” A man’s voice boomed somewhere above them. “Elaine, who the hell are you talking to?”
Sam felt a thrill of fear go down her spine. Beside her, Nicole was forcing her face into their dad’s leg.
Elaine looked down, her delicate cheeks milked of color. “That’s my husband.”
“I see.” Their dad’s voice was different from how he usually sounded, flat and hard.
“Elaine?” A man appeared in the doorway. He was tall and wide with a red face and a neck like a bull. “Who are you lot? Not Mormons, are you?”
“Greg, these are our neighbors. They’ve come to say hello.” Elaine was using the tiniest voice Sam had ever heard. She sounded like a sugar mouse.
The big man held out a hand the size of a T-bone steak. “I’
m Greg Sanderson.”
Greg Sanderson’s eyes were the color of the coffee their mum made in the French press. Sam couldn’t stop staring at them. He didn’t look at her or Nicole or Tabby, and she was glad. Nicole was still pressing her face into their father’s leg. If he talked to her, she might cry.
The handshake ended and Greg Sanderson looked her dad up and down. “You don’t own that…shop, do you?”
Sam’s dad smiled. “The tattoo studio? Yep, that’s mine.”
Greg Sanderson was smiling, too, but it reminded Sam of snakes. “Really?”
“Can’t you tell?” Her dad held up his arm and his sleeve seemed to shine in the afternoon sun, highlighting all the colors he had inked into his skin.
Greg Sanderson sneered and Sam felt another sizzle of fear. Her dad was different from other dads. He had long hair and didn’t eat meat and when she got told off for wearing pants to school, he wrote a letter saying her principal was an agent of the patriarchy. But the thing that really made her dad different were his tattoos; Norse hammers and koi fish and Celtic knots and dragons and poetry. Sam loved her dad’s tattoos, but she knew most people didn’t and Greg Sanderson was clearly one of those people. Her dad didn’t seem to know it, though. He was still smiling his wide happy smile. “The studio’s called Silver Daughters Ink. Feel free to come in if you’d like to take a look around.”
Elaine—who was hiding in the doorframe the same way Nicole was hiding in their dad’s leg—smiled. “Is it named after your girls?”
Her dad beamed at her. “It is.”
“That’s so lovely.”
“If that’s the kind of legacy you want your children to inherit,” Greg said, staring at the sky.
There was a long, awkward silence. Sam kept waiting for one of the grownups to talk but everyone kept looking at everyone else without speaking.
“I’m going to be a tattoo artist when I grow up,” Sam said, because someone had to say something.
“Me too!” Tabby screamed. “Me too.”
“Very good,” Greg Sanderson said loudly. “Well, thanks for the booze and flowers, mate, but we should get going. Need to pick up the boy.”
“Not a problem,” her dad said. “We’re having a barbecue next Friday if you’d like to stop by, get to know a few more people?”
Greg Sanderson looked like Tabby when someone gave her broccoli. “Thanks, but we’re busy. The house is still getting sorted and Scotty’s due to start cricket tomorrow.”
“That’s great, the girls play cricket! Sammy’s an excellent batswoman, aren’t you, Sammy?”
“Yes,” Sam said, but it didn’t matter. Greg Sanderson wasn’t looking at her. “Your girls won’t like playing with Scotty. He was the best bowler in his year back in London. He’ll make them cry.”
Indignant, Sam opened her mouth to say no one could make her cry, but her dad rubbed his hand against her back. “Good for him. Well, we’ll be off. Let me know if you change your mind about the barbecue.”
“Will do.” Greg Sanderson closed the door. It wasn’t a slam, but it felt mean all the same.
Sam’s dad muttered all the way home, short grumpy sentences that sounded like he was going to write them down in a letter and send them to Sam’s principal.
“Are they going to come to the barbecue?” Nicole said, sounding nearly as terrified as Elaine.
“No. And it would be better if you stayed away from his son, all three of you.”
Sam screwed up her nose. She’d been hoping to meet the Sanderson kid and tell him he’d never make her cry. Also, he still might have a huge water gun. “Why?”
“Because I said so. With a dad like that, I can only imagine…never mind. Just stay away.”
They reached their gate and Sam ran forward to open it.
“Dad, are we in trouble?” Nicole asked.
“No, lovely girl, I just don’t think you and the Sanderson boy should be friends, okay?”
Their dad didn’t say stuff like that often, that’s how Sam knew he was serious. She promised she’d stay away and now the Sanderson boy was spying on them. She nudged Nicole. “Look, the neighbour kid is watching us.”
Nicole stared at the gate in horror. “We’re not supposed to be near him! Make him go away.”
“Okay.” Sam cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey, weird boy! Go away.”
The sandy-haired kid ducked lower behind the fence.
“I can still see you. Piss off!”
Nicole elbowed her. “You don’t need to be mean.”
“I’m not! Dad said we shouldn’t hang around him, remember?”
Her twin nodded gravely.
“Then I need to make him go away.” Sam picked up a fat water balloon, weighing its squishy body with her palms. “Hey, weird kid, leave or I’ll chuck these at your head.”
“Don’t!” The boy shot up and suddenly they were looking at his face. His eyes were the same hot coffee color as his dad’s but his skin and hair were pale. Sam had learned about color contrast from her dad. Their new neighbour was very contrast-y. His dark eyes made his skin look paper-white and his sandy hair platinum. Loose cherry blossoms adorned his hair like pearl drops. Sam couldn’t stop staring. He was very…she didn’t know a better word. Pretty.
“What are we going to do?” Nicole asked in a stage whisper.
Sam lowered her ammunition onto the ground so it wouldn’t accidentally burst and make her look stupid. “What’s your name?”
“Scott Fitzwilliam Sanderson,” he said in a weird voice, all sing-song and fancy.
Sam frowned. “Where are you from?”
“London. London in England.”
Sam nodded. She knew England. That was where Mr Bean was from. She walked closer to the fence and saw Scott Fitzwilliam Sanderson was wearing a button-down shirt and a little tie. He looked like one of those ads where kids dressed like grownups and sold car insurance.
Scott Fitzwilliam Sanderson frowned at her. “What’s your name?”
Sam decided to use one of her favourite bossy lines from TV. “I’ll ask the questions here. Why are you spying on us?”
“I’m not! I wanted to know what you were playing.”
“Water balloon hopscotch. Nicole invented it, now piss off.”
‘Piss’ was one of Sam’s favourite words. She like the hardness of the P and the hiss of the s. She tried to say it as much as possible, though saying it wasn’t as fun when it made Scott’s face fall. Still, they weren’t supposed to be his friend.
Nicole nudged her again. “Maybe if he hangs out with us, he’ll be nice.”
Sam considered this, along with the possibility that friendship might give them access to any number of fancy toys. “Fine. Hey kid, do you want to play with us?”
The boy looked longingly at the pile of water balloons. “I’m not allowed.”
“Because you’ll wreak your dumb clothes?”
“No, I’m just not allowed.”
Sam remembered the way his dad had shut the door in her dad’s face and her anger resurged. “So then go away.”
The boy shrugged. “What if I don’t want to?”
“Then me and my sister will beat you up!”
Nicole looked dismayed at this prospect. “Sammy, I don’t want to beat him up.”
“I will help!” Tabby declared. “I will help!”
“Shh.” Sam picked her up and walked her back to the hopscotch court. “You’re too little to fight.”
Scott stretched himself up, trying to make himself look taller. “You can’t beat me up. I’m a boy.”
“So what? I beat up loads of boys.”
Scott Sanderson looked at Nicole. “Does she?”
“Yeah. Everyone’s scared of her, so they’re scared of me because we look the same.”
“I don’t think you look the same.”
He was lying. Kids said that all the time, but when she and Nix secretly switched their clothes, no one could tell.
“Stop talking,�
�� she said, balling her hands into fists so he’d know she was serious. “Either come fight or get out of here, posho!”
“I’m not posh!” Scott Sanderson said, and he sounded so posh, Sam laughed. Tabby laughed because she was laughing and even Nicole giggled. Scott Sanderson didn’t like that. His forehead rumpled and suddenly Sam could see his big, mean dad in his face. He pointed at her. “My dad says your dad’s a dirty hippie.”
Nicole and Tabby gasped. Sam felt her blood go as hot as lava. “My dad says your dad’s a fat piece of shit!”
Scott Sanderson’s neat little mouth fell into a perfect ‘O.’ “Did he?”
No. Sam’s dad had never said anything like that, but it didn’t matter. Their fancy-pants neighbour had slagged off their dad and no one slagged off their dad.
“Yeah, he did, and now we’re gonna smash you!” Sam looked at her twin for reassurance. Nicole wore the miserable expression she always did when she knew she had to fight. “Let’s go get him.”
The twins ran toward the fence, but it was locked. Sam kicked it. “Open up!”
Scott Sanderson retreated up the steps to his house. “You’re not allowed in here!”
“We are if you let us in!” Sam shook the fence, making the iron bars rattle like electric bones. “Open up you pissing little—”
Scott Sanderson’s big front door swung open and the worst possible person emerged.
“What the hell are you doing?” Greg Sanderson snarled. “I can hear you upstairs.”
“D-d-dad! I-I w-w-was…” A strange thing was happening to Scott Sanderson. He was sinking into the ground, melting like that witch in that movie and his voice was cracking on every word like it was broken.
His dad had noticed, too. “Spit it out, boy. Open your fucking mouth and talk.”
Nicole and Tabby gasped and even Sam was shocked. Grown-ups weren’t supposed to swear at kids, unless they dropped a hammer on their toes or didn’t see you watching TV on the couch. Everyone knew that.
“Well?” Greg demanded.
“I-I-I j-just…I w-was talking—”
Greg looked up and when he saw them standing by the fence, his face twisted into a snarl.
So Wild Page 1