Angel Cake

by Angel Cake (epub)

  ‘He’s gone,’ Dan blurts out. ‘This morning. He packed his bags and moved out, to be with her. My dad’s gone, Anya… and it’s all my fault!’

  It doesn’t matter how many times we tell Dan he’s not to blame – he’s just not listening. ‘If I hadn’t got angry,’ he argues. ‘If I hadn’t yelled and told him to get lost…’

  ‘You were upset,’ I tell him. ‘Anyone would be angry, Dan.’

  ‘I made everything worse,’ he sighs. ‘I always do. I should have told Ben and Nate to stay quiet, forget what we saw. Maybe then things wouldn’t have gone crazy?’

  Dan is sitting at the table with us, staring down into his stew.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Dad says. ‘Keeping quiet wouldn’t have made this go away. Sooner or later, the truth always comes out.’

  ‘I’m worried about Mum,’ Dan says. ‘She didn’t open the cafe yesterday, but today she was down there before nine, even though it’s a Sunday. She opened up and a couple of people wandered in, but it’s no use. She’s acting crazy. She took all of the presents out of the window display and dumped them into the wheely bin out back, pulled down the tinsel and the lights. It’s a mess. And now she keeps putting sad songs on the CD player and crying into the cake mix…’

  ‘I see,’ Dad frowns. ‘That is not good.’

  ‘She needs a friend,’ Mum says briskly, clearing away the dishes. ‘She has been so good to Anya and Kazia, making them welcome at the cafe after school. Now she needs our support in return.’

  Mum wraps some honey cakes in foil and takes her coat from the rack. ‘I will go and see her,’ Mum says. ‘Tell her to be strong. She can get through this.’

  Dad reaches for his coat. ‘I suppose we can see our Polish friends another day,’ he sighs. ‘Kazia’s not well enough for Mass, anyway.’

  So Dan takes Mum and Dad over to the cafe, and Mass at the cathedral – and the chance for Dad to ask his friends for help with the business – is shelved. I stay in with Kazia. She is still sleeping an hour later, when Dad comes back in and scoops up the Christmas castle.

  ‘I thought I’d let Dan’s mum borrow it, for the window display,’ he explains. ‘I’ve cleared up the mess and rigged up some new fairy lights, and this will make a great centrepiece. And, of course, it brings good luck…’

  ‘But, Dad!’ I argue. ‘What about us? Don’t we need all the luck we can get?’

  ‘It’s just a loan,’ Dad promises. ‘It will be back in time for Christmas. And besides… you can’t give luck away. The more you pass on, the more you get back again.’

  I really hope he’s right.

  It turns out Kazia has flu. She’s off school all week, curled up on the sofa in a swirl of blankets with Cheesy snuggled in beside her. I get into the habit of coming straight home to sit with her, reading her stories from my old storybooks, about smugglers and spies and buried treasure.

  ‘Britain isn’t really the way it sounds in the stories,’ Kazia sighs. ‘It’s still cool, though!’

  ‘Yes, it’s still cool.’

  ‘It’s not fair, being ill in the last week of term,’ she says. ‘I’m missing all the fun stuff ! The nativity play, the party, the presents! What if my friends forget me?’

  ‘They won’t forget you,’ I promise. ‘They’ll still be there in the New Year.’

  I’m not sure if we will be here in the New Year, but I don’t tell Kazia that. I’ve heard Mum and Dad talking late at night, and I know things are bad… very bad.

  ‘At least you won’t miss the Christmas dance,’ my sister chatters on. ‘You’ll be the prettiest one there, and on the stroke of midnight Dan will ask you to dance, but if you run away and lose your pixie boots, you’ll never get to be a real princess.’

  I laugh. ‘I think you’re getting the story muddled up a bit,’ I tell her. ‘Besides, I have no idea if Dan will even be there – he hasn’t been in school all week. And trust me, I’m not planning to lose my boots again!’

  ‘You haven’t even got a fairy godmother,’ Kazia frowns.

  I roll my eyes. ‘Ah,’ I tell my little sister. ‘Now that’s where you’re wrong…’

  ‘You shall go to the ball!’ Frankie says. ‘Seriously, Anya. Take a look!’

  I’m at Frankie’s, getting ready for the Christmas dance. I’d like to say I spent hours searching my wardrobe for something to wear, but it was more like minutes. I picked out the only thing I owned that might do, a blue print dress with a fitted top, gathered sleeves and a short, sticky-out skirt. Frankie did my make-up. She even straightened my hair and sprayed it with something, and now she is steering me towards the mirror.

  I blink. The girl in the mirror looks a little like me… but better. The dress, which seemed plain and little-girlish back in Krakow, is somehow cute and cool with borrowed turquoise tights and flat boots. My hair is long and blonde and sleek, with a sheen of glitter where the light catches it, and Frankie has outlined my eyes and stroked sparkly blue shadow across my lids.

  ‘It’s great!’ I tell her.

  ‘How about me?’ Frankie demands. ‘Think I’ll make an impression?’

  Only a blind man would be able to miss Frankie tonight. She’s wearing a black minidress with a redand-black tutu skirt, red stripy tights and Doc Marten boots. Her hair has been crimped and backcombed until it looks like she just crawled out of a hedge. ‘Does my bum look big in this?’ she asks, looking backwards over her shoulder into the mirror. ‘OK, don’t answer that, Anya. My bum looks big in everything.’

  ‘You look cool,’ I promise. ‘I wonder… will Dan be there, tonight, do you think?’

  ‘Dan?’ Frankie raises an eyebrow. ‘I dunno. He’s missed so much school lately. He’d be crazy to show his face with all those teachers around… Fisher’s out to get him. Like I said, Anya, he’s no angel…’

  ‘We’re just friends,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, right!’ Frankie smirks.

  I blink. ‘OK,’ I say. ‘I do like Dan. Is that a crime? I’ve tried not to, but I can’t help it. I know he’s trouble, but I like him a lot, and I think he likes me too. And anyway, Frankie, you’re not exactly an expert when it comes to the whole crush thing, are you?’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means that Kurt is crazy about you, and you haven’t even noticed! The boy of your dreams is right there under your nose, Frankie – open your eyes!’

  ‘Boy of my dreams? Kurt Jones?’ Frankie echoes. ‘No way. Kurt is only interested in beansprouts, biology homework and the square root of 73.5. He doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ I say.

  ‘Trust me, Anya, I’m sure,’ Frankie says, blotting her crimson lipstick and grabbing her coat. ‘C’mon, let’s go!’

  You wouldn’t think St Peter and Paul’s could ever look magical, but tonight it does. The darkness hides the worst of the peeling paint and the graffiti, and someone has draped fairy lights all around the main entrance. Frost glimmers on the path as we approach.

  A gang of girls dressed up in satin prom dresses and tinsel headdresses totter past us, giggling, and then we see Kurt, waiting for us on the steps. He looks like his own version of smart, in black skinny jeans, a collarless white shirt and a big, sagging jacket that looks like it came from a jumble sale.

  ‘Hey!’ he yells. I wink at Frankie, and I’m almost sure I see her blush as Kurt links our arms and the three of us go inside.

  The school hall has been transformed. Lit only by fairy lights, it is shadowy and mysterious, the ceiling hung with rustling streamers, silver tinsel and hundreds of glitter-edged snowflakes. The scary snowman we made in art has been shunted into a corner behind the refreshments table, where Mr Fisher and Miss Matthews are serving lemonade and mince pies.

  Mr Critchley, dressed in a Santa suit, is on stage running the disco, and already a sea of excited Year Sevens are jiggling about on the dance floor while the Year Eights stand around the edges, trying to decide when
it would be cool to join in.

  I can see Lily Caldwell across the hall, risking frostbite in a red-sequinned minidress, and Dan’s bad-boy gang lounging carelessly against the stage, trying to talk Mr Critchley into playing Jay-Z instead of corny Christmas songs. I can’t see Dan, though, not anywhere.

  Kurt, Frankie and I load up on mince pies and lemonade and start making our way back through the crush of kids, when someone grabs at my waist, and there’s Dan, in angel wings, laughing as he whirls me round.

  ‘Hey, guys!’ he yells above the music. ‘Nice jacket, Kurt. Love the tutu, Frankie! And, Anya… you look awesome. Seriously.’

  ‘You came!’ I grin.

  ‘We agreed, didn’t we? I even wore the angel wings for you… well, it is Christmas! Is Fisher here?’ Dan looks around anxiously. ‘He’s one person I do NOT want to see tonight. I’m in serious trouble, and it’s all his fault…’

  ‘What happened?’ I ask.

  ‘What didn’t?’ Dan scowls. ‘Fisher is one sad, power-crazed loser, right?’

  ‘Right,’ Kurt says, blinking. ‘And he’s over by the refreshments table right now with a ladle in his hand, Dan, so you’d better be careful…’

  ‘Thanks, mate.’ Dan frowns. ‘C’mon, Anya. Nowhere’s safe.’

  He takes my hand and pulls me after him through the crowds, out into the darkened corridors.

  It’s not easy to find a quiet place to talk, but Dan leads me into the cloakrooms and we sit among the coats and jackets, side by side in the half-light.

  ‘It was always gonna happen,’ Dan huffs. ‘Fisher’s been on my case for ages, and he went crazy when I legged it out of school the other week. He’s been sending letters and leaving messages on the answer phone. I’ve been sneaking home while Mum’s at work to bin the letters and erase the messages. But we came home from the cafe a bit earlier than usual today. The phone was ringing, and Mum got to it before me…’

  ‘Mr Fisher,’ I finish. ‘Oh, Dan.’

  ‘It’s a disaster, Anya,’ he groans. ‘Mum knows all about the skiving off now. I’ve told her a whole raft of lies over the last few months… no wonder she’s mad. And, of course, Fisher told her about the fire thing and how I was suspended for three days when she just thought I had the flu… Anya, what am I gonna do?’

  ‘It’s a mess,’ I admit. ‘What did your mum say?’

  Dan winces. ‘She was just so… so angry with me,’ he says. ‘I’ve never seen her like that before. She kept saying that I’d let her down, that she’d never been so disappointed in me. That hurt, Anya. I was doing it all for her! She’d never have managed otherwise!’

  I bite my lip.

  ‘You think I was wrong too, don’t you?’ he says. ‘But I had no choice! Mum and Dad had big plans for the cafe – catering for parties, a delivery service. But none of that fancy extra stuff ever got off the ground, and Mum could barely keep the place afloat. When Dad walked out… well, what else was I supposed to do? I had to help, didn’t I?’

  Dan rolls his soft brown eyes up to the ceiling.

  ‘I’ve really messed up,’ he sighs. ‘Fisher’s gonna involve the authorities. Mum might get fined, or worse. She’s furious. Ben started crying and Nate said I’d spoiled Christmas, and I…’ Dan puts his head in his hands. ‘I said that I hated the lot of them, and I slammed out of the house. I’ve gone and made everything about a million times worse.’

  Dan takes my hands and holds them tight. ‘I wish you could understand,’ he whispers. ‘I wish you just knew how it feels when your life is falling apart…’

  I bite my lip. ‘I do know, Dan,’ I tell him. ‘Not about the parents thing, but… well, things are pretty awful for me too. I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks, but I didn’t know how… and I know this isn’t exactly a good time, but if I don’t do it now I might not get another chance.’

  I take a deep breath. ‘Dad’s business is failing. Unless we get some kind of a miracle, it looks like we’ll be heading back to Krakow in the New Year.’

  Dan’s eyes flash with anger. ‘Krakow? No way! They can’t do that – you can’t do that, Anya! I need you, OK? I need you here!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I didn’t know you’d care…’

  Dan rakes a hand through his dark braids. ‘You didn’t know I’d care?’ he echoes. ‘Are you crazy? Oh, Anya, what a mess… we’ve wasted so much time! We have to be together, OK, we have to! I know I’m not good enough for you, I know things are complicated, but… well, nobody understands me like you do, OK? Nobody.’

  His eyes shine in the half-light.

  ‘What if we run away, Anya?’ he breathes. ‘You and me? We could be together, away from all this junk. Your parents can’t make you go back to Krakow then, and Mum will see how much she needs me, and Dad will be sorry and maybe come back home…’

  For a moment I can almost see it, me and Dan, together, running, laughing, with nothing to pull us apart. Then the image slides out of shape, dissolving like snow in the sunshine.

  ‘No, Dan,’ I whisper. ‘We can’t. It’d just hurt everyone even more. Running away is not the answer.’ I pull Dan to his feet. ‘We have to face things. Put things right, bit by bit. And you have to talk to Mr Fisher – tell him you need one more chance.’

  ‘He hates me,’ Dan argues. ‘He’d never listen, and all the teachers think I’m no good.’

  ‘I know different,’ I say. ‘I know a boy who helps his family, is kind to strangers, makes magic out of nothing for his friends.’

  Dan looks at me for a long moment, his dark eyes burning.

  ‘Sometimes, it feels like you’re the only one who ever sees the good in me,’ he says.

  He leans towards me, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, the tickle of his braids as they fall against my face. My eyes flicker shut, and my heart is hammering so loud in my chest I swear the whole school can hear it.

  Then some Year Sevens blunder along, looking for their coats, and we spring apart, wide-eyed, guilty.

  Dan rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. ‘Typical,’ he says.

  I grin, hiding my blushes behind a curtain of hair.

  ‘Come on,’ I tell him, pulling him to his feet. ‘We will find Mr Fisher, put this right. You can change, Dan – work hard in school, make your mum proud. No more trouble.’

  ‘I can’t talk to Fisher!’ Dan protests. ‘Not in front of everyone! I won’t know what to say!’

  ‘Speak from the heart,’ I tell him. ‘Say the things you said to me. Say sorry.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Dan pulls a face. ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘Yes, you have to.’

  ‘And what about you, about going back to Krakow?’ Dan asks.

  I sigh. ‘Some things you just can’t fight,’ I tell him. ‘No matter how much you want to. But still, I’m hoping for a miracle!’

  We walk into the hall, into the half-light of frosted snowflakes and tinsel streamers. The dance floor is packed now, and Mr Critchley is dancing around on stage as he lines up the CDs and sets the disco lights flashing. I see Lily Caldwell dancing with a circle of Dan’s bad-boy friends around her. She’s moving in a bored, listless kind of way, waving a sprig of mistletoe around and wiggling her bum a lot. Then her eyes swoop over Dan and me, and her eyes harden, her mouth forming a thin, cold line. Well, I have more important things to worry about than Lily.

  ‘There’s Mr Fisher, over by the drinks –’

  ‘I can’t talk to him there!’ Dan yells into my ear. ‘Not in this racket! Anya, he’ll never listen.’

  ‘He’ll listen,’ I promise. ‘Stay here, Dan, I’ll fetch him. You can talk outside, beside the coats, like we did. Please, Dan?’

  ‘I guess,’ Dan agrees.

  By the time I battle my way through the crush of kids to get to the refreshments table, Mr Critchley has changed the CD and a slow, slushy number floods the room. Kids sprint off the dance floor in a panic, but I see Frankie and Kurt, hand in hand, walking up to dance, and I smile
. Looks like things are finally working out for them too.

  It takes forever to get Mr Fisher to understand. ‘Someone needs to talk to you,’ I yell at him, over the mince pies. ‘There’s a pupil in trouble. It is important, serious, you must come now!’ Mr Fisher straightens his tie and follows me across the hall.

  There’s just one problem… Dan is not standing by the door, where I left him. There’s no sign of him at all.

  ‘Who did you say needs to speak to me?’ Mr Fisher frowns. ‘What’s this all about?’

  I look around the hall, and then I see him, and my heart turns to ice. Dan is in the middle of the dance floor, with Lily Caldwell, dancing. As I watch, Lily leans in, waving the sprig of mistletoe over Dan’s head, and kisses him full on the lips.

  I don’t notice anything after that. I push past Mr Fisher, shove my way through to the cloakroom, grab my coat. And then I’m outside, running across concrete that glints with frost, down towards the school gates.

  ‘Anya!’

  I don’t want to hear anything he has to say. What’s the point? It’s all lies, I know that now. I was kidding myself all along.

  It’s not as if people didn’t warn me. Frankie told me to be careful, Lily warned me off – even Dan himself admitted he was trouble, right from day one. I thought I knew better. I believed in Dan… that was my big mistake.

  ‘Anya! Wait! I can explain!’

  He’s behind me, his feet slapping against the concrete as we reach the gate. He catches hold of my sleeve and I spin round to face him, furious.

  ‘It wasn’t the way it looked!’ he says, and I think of another night, in town with Dan, Ben, Nate and Kazia, when a man with dark skin and slanting cheekbones said exactly those words.

  I didn’t believe them then, either.

  ‘Anya, please, it meant nothing…’

  My breath comes in burning gasps, and my cheeks are streaked with tears. ‘It meant something to me,’ I tell him, and my hand flies out to drag a handful of white feathers from the angel wings. I want to hurt Dan, the way he’s hurt me. ‘Some angel you are. Leave me alone, Dan. You… you’re just like your dad!’