Girl in the Attic

by Valerie Mendes

  Tom ground to a halt. “You’re joking. We’ve planned everything. Everybody’ll be there. You can’t back out now.”

  “I’ve got to go to Cornwall for Christmas.” Nathan skidded into a snow drift. “Mum told me last night. I said I didn’t want to go a hundred times. Useless. She won’t listen.”

  “But we always have a party together.” Tom pulled Nathan to his feet. “Couldn’t you go to Cornwall for a few days and come back for it?”

  “I suggested that. She says St Ives is too far and Grandpa’s expecting us, specially for Christmas. Mum says he’s lonely since Grandma died, but he managed without us last year perfectly well.” He kicked at a lamppost. “First she plans the trip, then she tells me about it. I’m never asked about anything.”

  “Typical!” Snow speckled Tom’s sandy hair like sugar on a cake.

  “And for New Year, I’m going to Dad and Karen’s again. I want to see Dad and all that, but it won’t give you and me time to do anything.”

  Tom’s eyes flicked over him, sympathetic. “That’s OK.”

  “Come on, Banksie, it’s not OK.” The bus rumbled towards them, snorting waves of slush. “Mum’s in a filthy mood. Karen’s taking Dad to Edinburgh for Christmas to meet her family. I heard Mum telling Grandpa on the phone. She said it was the last straw and she can’t wait to get away.”

  Tom followed Nathan to the back of the bus, where they squashed together in their usual seats.

  “This isn’t going to be a proper Christmas. I’ll probably die of boredom.” Nathan took off a glove, touched his left ear. “And I’ve got frostbite.”

  Nathan and Tom celebrated the end of term by building a giant snow pig in Nathan’s front garden. It sat round and solid, with swirly pink marbles for eyes and orange peel for a smile.

  “You’re wicked.” Nathan patted the pig’s snout. “I can’t bear to leave you. Perhaps it’ll snow so hard tonight the roads to Cornwall will be blocked.”

  “Or you could catch a rare disease.” Tom grinned. “Paint spots all over yourself. Demand to see a specialist.”

  “Brilliant idea. We can’t leave the pig on his own for Christmas. All the snowmen in the neighbourhood will have him for bacon rolls!”

  Mum opened the door. “I heard that. We’ll get to St Ives tomorrow if we have to walk. Tom, give your mum my love. Nathan, come in and finish packing.”

  The door shut. Nathan threw a snowball at it. He looked at Tom and shrugged.

  “Don’t say anything.” Tom brushed snow from his shoulders. “Ring me from St Ives. … Where are you staying?”

  “Tregenna Castle. It’s a hotel, huge and a bit grand. We’ve been there before. Usually we stay with Grandpa, but Mum says this time she wants a proper holiday without the chores.”

  Tom tried to look bright. “You can walk on the beach, watch the boats. It can’t all be bad. Something amazing might happen.” He punched Nathan’s shoulder. “You might meet someone who’ll change your life for ever, like in the movies.”

  Nathan pulled off his sopping gloves. “As if.” His mouth puckered. “See ya, Banksie.”

  Tom skidded across the square. Outside his house he turned and waved, his face a weird yellow beneath the streetlight. Nathan flung an arm in reply.

  He stamped into the house. The front room smelt stale, made him shiver. Last Christmas, he and Dad had put up a tree with silver-lantern lights, lit a log fire, sung carols round the piano. Tomorrow Dad will be in Scotland. Mum will be with Grandpa. He looked at the mound of snow in the front garden. Piggy. That’s what I’ll be.

  Piggy in the middle.

  He moved to the windowpane, blew warm breath on to it. Into its cloud he drew the word D A D. The letters began to dribble. He raised a sleeve to wipe them out. Through the clean circle of windows a car drew up. A Ford.

  Nathan skittered out of the room and flung open the front door.

  “Hi, Nat!” Dad hugged him. He smelt of casserole. “Thought I’d surprise you.” He held a wicker basket full of parcels wrapped in shiny green paper. “I’ve brought you and Mum your Christmas presents. From me and Karen. And from Amy. She made you something special.”

  Nathan scowled. “What is it?”

  “Aha! You’ll have to wait until Christmas Day to find out!”

  Mum emerged from the kitchen. “Hello, Max. Our presents to you are in that carrier bag.” She hesitated at the doorway. “Are you taking Nathan for a meal?”

  “So you knew Dad was coming?”

  “Yes.” Mum took the wicker basket. “Dad’s got something he wants to tell you. I thought it might be best if you went out together.”

  A familiar cold sliver jabbed at Nathan’s throat.

  “The thing is …” Dad drove through the snow towards the High Street. “We’ve all been so busy since the summer and our Sundays go so quickly.” He glanced at Nathan. “I thought it would be nice to catch up a bit before we disappear to opposite ends of the country.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere.” Nathan heard the sulk in his voice but he didn’t care. “I’ll miss my party with Tom for the first time ever. It’s crap. Everybody wants to know why I can’t be there.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s partly my fault.” Dad grated the gears. “I told Mum something that made her angry. I hoped she’d take it better.” He ran a hand through his hair.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Ah! Here’s a good space to park.” Dad reversed swiftly, hauled on the brakes and turned off the engine. He moved sideways to look at Nathan, flinging an arm along the edge of the seat. “It’s about Karen. We’ve only just found out. She’s going to have a baby. My baby. In July.”

  Nathan flushed. “She’s already got Amy.” Pause. “And you’ve got me.”

  “’Course I have.” Dad touched Nathan’s shoulder. “And I love you very much. You’ll always be my special Nat.” Pause. “But Karen and I, we’re, you know, trying to make a life together.”

  Nathan opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. He shoved at the car door and stepped with relief on to the pavement.

  Dad joined him. “Let’s go to that nice pizza place at the top of the hill. You’re not crying, are you?”

  “’Course not.” Nathan hunched into his jacket and turned away.

  The High Street sparkled with Christmas lights. They hung over the street in showery spangles, turning patches of hardened snow deep pink and green. Crowds of people jostled their Christmas parcels, slithering excitedly up and down the hill. They brushed against Nathan, elbowed him out of their way.

  Nathan fought back tears. I’m not going to matter any more. A new baby. It’ll be goodbye to my Sundays with Dad when it arrives.

  In the packed restaurant, enormous pizzas frothed with cheesy topping. Nathan stabbed his with a fork, chewed desperately, made vast efforts to swallow. The cheese was slimy and the bread tasted of dust.

  “Look.” Dad ran his tongue over his lips. “I want to explain so you’ll understand what this is all about. When my dad died he left me a lot of money. Before you were born. I spent every penny on buying our house. I wanted somewhere big so I could have lots of kids.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes, gulped at his wine.

  Nathan stopped chewing. “You never told me that.”

  “No.” Dad smiled at him, a strange smile full of shyness Nathan had never seen before. “It’s not something men admit to. You can ask a woman what she wants in life and she can say marriage and children. But if you ask a guy, it’s supposed to be money and promotion all the way.”

  “So when you met Mum, did you tell her?”

  “That’s a good question. I don’t think I did, not in so many words. I already had the house. I kind of assumed she’d guess. We’d been married for three years before you were born.” That smile again. “Happiest day of my life.”

  “Was it?” Nathan’s lemonade fizzed in his mouth and stung his throat. “So why didn’t you have more kids?”

  Dad looked down at
his plate. “Ask Mum.”

  “What do you mean? Didn’t she want any more?”

  “In a nutshell, no.” Dad swirled the last of the wine around his glass. “She had her job on the newspaper and she had to be tough and committed and always in the office. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard. Part of me was pleased for her – she became a household name so fast. Another bit of me just wanted her to drop the whole thing.”

  “But she never did,” Nathan said slowly. “I can’t remember her not being at work.”

  “No. She’d made up her mind and there was nothing I could do to change it. At first she said perhaps a new baby next year. Then she gave me straight refusals. Eventually I got fed up and stopped asking her.”

  “But things are different with Karen?”

  “The day I met her,” Dad said proudly, “she told me about Amy and her divorce and how she’d always wanted more kids.” He looked at Nathan, his eyes sharp. “She’s good at her job, she enjoys it. But she’s not ambitious. Her family come first. Amy – and now me. We’ll always come first.”

  He took out his handkerchief, scrubbed his mouth with it. “You know what I feel?”

  “No.” Something inside Nathan steeled itself for another blow.

  “Huge relief that I’m not competing with another career. That Karen and I can be a couple without her work coming between us all the time.”

  “I see.” Nathan pushed his half-eaten pizza away. The babble of voices around him dinned into his ears.

  “Do you?” Dad’s eyes searched his face. “I want you to understand, to be a part of my new family. I want that more than anything.”

  Three

  Fresh overnight snow had buried their Volkswagen. Nathan scraped viciously at the windscreen. After ten minutes of coaxing, the engine sputtered into life.

  “Thank the god of holidays for that!” Mum settled her beret more firmly on her head. “Off we go … Great!”

  “How can this be great?” Nathan hunched away from her as the car lurched out of the square. “I’m missing out on all the Christmas fun.”

  “We’ll make up for it. Grandpa can’t wait. He’ll have tons of things planned.”

  “I don’t need planning for. I can make my own plans. … I like making them.”

  “Sure, Nathan, but the point is, you can’t live your own life yet. You and me, we’re going to make some changes.” She glanced at him. “Big ones.”

  “How big? What changes?” Don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear.

  But he had no choice. Mum dropped her bombshell. She told him she was taking him to St Ives not just for Christmas, but because Dad was planning to sell their London house and she wanted to move back to St Ives for good. Just like that. Cool as a cucumber, driving along as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  “I’ve thought about it a lot,” she said, like she was chatting to a friend. “And frankly, I need a fresh start.”

  “Fresh start?” Shock prickled its way down Nathan’s spine. He felt so flabbergasted he was almost speechless.

  “I’ve never been a Londoner. Dirty, smelly city. But I’ve had to be for my career. You’ll love St Ives once you’ve settled down. My birthplace, my real home.”

  Nathan turned his head away so Mum couldn’t see his face. This is worse than anything. All my friends are in London. Dave and Steve, Lottie and Pippa … Everyone at school, everyone who’ll be at the party … I’ll never see any of them again.

  “You’ll soon get used to the idea. We’ll have great fun looking at cottages for sale.”

  Nathan wanted to shout, “Stop the car! Let me get out!” Instead he said in a deadpan voice, “And when exactly will all this happen?”

  “Easter. We need time to sell the house and find you a new school. I’ve talked to my boss. She says I can write my weekly column anywhere. I’ll travel up to the office once a month. It’ll work perfectly.” She paused. “I haven’t told Dad yet.”

  “But I bet you’ve told Grandpa.” Nathan’s voice was icy cold. “You’re bound to have talked to him.”

  “Yes, I have.” Mum sped past a gritter truck. “And now I’m talking to you.”

  Nathan shut his mouth and then his eyes. Don’t expect me to say another word.

  Driving west, the snow thawed, then vanished. Fields lay green against a dancing-cloud sky. The air loosened its icy grip, the traffic thinned. The silence between them thickened.

  Near Exeter they stopped at a café, drank scalding tea and swallowed stiff Chelsea buns. A faint colour flushed Mum’s cheeks. Nathan watched as she filled the car with petrol and bought acid-yellow chrysanthemums for Grandpa.

  She can’t haul me off to Cornwall like this. I’m being hijacked. Christmas is one thing, but not for ever. She’s got no right to take me away from Dad and Tom. … Cornwall’s so boring.

  Nothing ever happens there.

  They drove into St Ives at two o’clock, turning left at the signpost to Tregenna Castle. Giant firs shadowed the lawns and a golf course where miniature figures looked as if they were playing a board game.

  Mum scooped off her beret. “We’ve made excellent time. Look, Nathan, the sea. Isn’t this exciting? St Ives is down there, beyond the woods. … Remember?”

  “Vaguely.” Leave me alone.

  Mum parked the car and Nathan climbed slowly out. He looked up at Tregenna Castle. Its massive grey walls, topped by turrets and a flag, seemed to lean towards him, as if they were surprised to see his face. The sun felt unexpectedly warm; the air smelt of salt and fir. A gull swooped from a turret, cackled at him mockingly.

  He walked to the edge of the path and stared beyond the woods that sloped towards the sea.

  I do remember. One morning. I was only three or four. I raced Dad down that path. I looked back at him and fell over. Dad picked me up. I made a big fuss. I’d cut my chin and grazed my hands and knees. Dad tied his handkerchief to my knee in a big white floppy bow. It made me laugh. Dad … I want you with me now.

  Mum stood beside him. “Stunning, isn’t it? We’re going to have the best holiday in the world.”

  Nathan slouched away from her. Best nothing. I just want to go home.

  He flung his bag on the floor and kicked it. The ground-level room, disgustingly clean, had an old-lady lavenderish smell. Its windows faced earthy beds with shrubs, gravel paths, lawns. Outside, voices laughed and footsteps crunched.

  He went to the window and looked across the woods to the flat blue blur of sea. A black liner crawled over the horizon like a determined beetle. It’s lucky. It’s getting away.

  Mum put her head round the door. “Grandpa’s here. Meet us in the lobby. I’ve ordered tea and sandwiches.”

  Nathan hurled himself on to one of the beds and bounced ruthlessly up and down on it. He pulled out two starched pillows, punched them, threw them venomously at the cupboard. They thudded against the slats and slumped to the floor. The cupboard door gaped open.

  Nathan bounced until the bed groaned. “Come out, whoever you are!”

  Empty coat-hangers jangled back at him.

  He walked down the corridor, past the gym and its thunder of workout music. Past the long glass front of the swimming-pool, the excited splashing bodies. If Dad were here, we could go swimming together. It’s no fun on my own. I wonder what Tom’s doing.

  Grandpa sat with Mum at one of the low tables in the lobby, clasping her hands. Nathan watched them awkwardly, not wanting to interrupt.

  Grandpa spotted him. “Nathaniel!” He stood up. He was thinner, his face sharp and tanned. Thick white tufts of hair sprang back from his forehead. His moustache, bristling under his beaky nose, made him look like an elegant parrot.

  Nathan hugged him. He smelt of Dettol and sherry.

  Lively brown eyes inspected him. “You look more like Max than ever.”

  Nathan glanced at Mum. “I can’t help that.”

  “Damn. Sorry, Elizabeth, dear. I didn’t mean to put my foot in it.”

  Mum loo
ked up at them, her eyes flicking from one to the other. “He is very like Max, though I never notice it. … Good. Here’s our tea.”

  Nathan ate. Grandpa talked: the traffic, nowhere to park; the weird neighbours; the new supermarket. Nathan stopped listening. I might as well not be here. Why couldn’t she have left me on my own in London? I should have staged a sit-in at Tom’s and refused to budge.

  But he listened again when Grandpa picked up his briefcase and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “I’ve done some legwork for you, Elizabeth. These details of some properties arrived from Michael Collins. He’s the best estate agent in St Ives.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You haven’t wasted much time, have you?” Nathan burst out.

  Grandpa looked at him sharply. “Why, what’s the matter?”

  “What’s the matter?” Nathan snorted. “Coming to live down here’s the matter. It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

  “Steady on—” Grandpa looked startled.

  “I only told him about it this morning,” Mum cut in, her voice cold. She tried to warm it. “If I make a few phone calls tomorrow, we could see some cottages at midday. How does that sound?”

  “Crap.” Nathan stood up. “I’m going to watch TV.”

  “Excellent.” Grandpa gave him a hesitant smile. “Why don’t you go for a swim before supper? You’re a good strong swimmer, aren’t you? Just like your dad.”

  Nathan glared at him and turned away.

  “And tomorrow evening,” Grandpa called, “we’re going to the pantomime.”

  “That’s all I need,” Nathan muttered as he stomped back to his room. “I grew out of those stupid things years ago.”

  The screen’s irritating flicker made Nathan want to kick it. He turned the TV off and picked up the phone. He told Tom about Dad’s new baby, about the repulsively clean room, about Mum’s decision. He could hear the shock in Tom’s voice.

  “Does your dad know?”