Furious Thing Page 4

  I wanted to ask who’d texted, but I didn’t want to make him claustrophobic, so I asked a polite question about the only girl whose name I knew. ‘How’s Cerys?’

  ‘She’s cool.’

  ‘Has she been to visit?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  The ‘yet’ gave me hope, because it might never happen. It was tough keeping relationships going with miles between you. One hundred and ninety-eight miles, to be exact. Kass was joined to me by family, and I’d always have access to him. But girlfriends came and went.

  6

  Cerys checked out my grey school skirt and socks, my blue shirt and flat black shoes. ‘I admire you,’ she said. ‘Not caring what people think is a gift.’

  We were in her bedroom. I was cross-legged on the carpet staring up at her and she was perched on the window ledge. Sixth-formers didn’t have a uniform and she was wearing a denim minidress. I could see the white lace of her bra when she lifted her arm to suck on her vape.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I said. ‘Of course I care what people think.’

  ‘Do you? You don’t seem to.’ She blew sweet-smelling vapour across the room. ‘You just seem to go about not giving a toss about anything.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to wreck the party. It was an accident.’

  She nodded, and we sat with that for a bit. I’d come straight from school because I couldn’t face going home and I couldn’t think where else to go. The last few days had been a nightmare and I wanted to be with someone who knew about my world, and who better than Kass’s girlfriend? I also wanted to be with someone who could give me advice and Cerys was one of the most popular girls at school.

  She’d looked a bit surprised to see me when she opened the door. Her face sort of fell. But when I told her I was just passing and wouldn’t stay long, she invited me in.

  ‘What would you have done,’ I said, ‘if you thought some drunk bloke was groping you?’

  ‘I’d have walked away.’ She blinked at me. ‘Or told my dad.’

  I think life is very different for girls like Cerys. If I could wake up in the morning and be someone else for twenty-four hours, I’d be her. I’d kiss my loving father goodbye, then shimmy down the street making plans with friends on group chat. When I got to school, I’d hand in my perfect assignments to smiling teachers and I’d think, Ah, this is how it feels to absolutely know that the rest of your life is going to be a breeze.

  She took another long drag on her vape. From outside appearances, she looked like someone who didn’t give a damn. But Kass said she was very ambitious and often got anxious, so maybe vaping helped her focus. I’d never tried any kind of nicotine. I didn’t want to die before I’d been properly happy.

  ‘I used to feel you were judging me,’ Cerys said. ‘When I first started going out with Kass, I mean. I didn’t think you liked me at all. You have this particularly intense way of looking at people sometimes.’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘It’s not a bad thing. You’re doing it right now and it’s fine. It doesn’t freak me out any more.’

  ‘I freak you out?’

  ‘You used to. Don’t get upset. Being intense is a good thing. It means you’re deep.’

  I didn’t know if she was being sincere or not. It was difficult to tell with Cerys. She had the most beautiful fake smile I’d ever seen. I guess it helped her get popular. She snapped her bag open and put the vape away. ‘Now,’ she said. ‘Tell me everything. I’ll get it all from Kass at some point, but I want your side first.’

  Did me and Kass have different sides? I chewed the end of my hair for a bit. I wondered if I should tell Cerys that when John grounded me the morning after the party, he’d also written a list. In capital letters at the top he wrote: ZERO TOLERANCE, which meant he’d put up with me for years and had finally had enough. Underneath, he wrote: I will not lie or swear. I will control my temper. I won’t take things without asking. He watched me sign it, then stuck it on the fridge. He made me write apology letters to Roger and Monika, and then he locked Mum’s necklace in his safe so I wouldn’t be tempted to steal it again.

  ‘Well,’ I said eventually, ‘John hates me, and I was wondering if you had any advice?’

  ‘Your stepfather does not hate you.’

  ‘He thinks I’m out of control.’

  ‘And are you?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I want him to think I’m awesome.’

  I could tell by her face she was up for the challenge. Pretty girls often wanted to get their hands on those of us who were less than perfect. ‘We need to find something you’re good at that he can admire you for,’ she said. ‘It shouldn’t be something he does himself. Like, if he’s great at football, you should pick a different sport. Otherwise, it’ll look like you’re competing or taking the piss.’

  ‘John doesn’t play football.’

  ‘Drawing, then. He’s an architect, isn’t he? So, don’t choose art.’

  ‘I’m rubbish at art.’

  ‘OK, well what skills do you have? Let’s make a list.’ She pulled a notebook and pen from her bag and settled herself against the window.

  But I couldn’t think of a thing. Loving Iris and Kass? When I was a kid I used to be good at loads. On a Saturday, I’d have a whole timetable for Mum – reading stories, writing new ones, cobbling costumes together and putting on a show. Where had that all gone?

  ‘I like walking about looking at people,’ I said. ‘You know, imagining who they are and what they’re thinking.’

  ‘I’ll put psychology down,’ she said.

  ‘When I was young, my granddad did loads of stuff with me – he taught me about knots and how to climb trees and everything I know about nature.’

  Cerys sighed. ‘Yeah, that’s all very 1950s, but what about now? Any current hobbies? Anything you like doing with friends?’

  ‘Nothing. Honestly, there really isn’t anything.’

  ‘There’s a confidence issue going on here.’ She eyed me steadily. ‘What are your favourite lessons at school?’

  Brightly and neatly she steered away from the obvious fact that I had no hobbies or friends. I told her that I enjoyed Media Studies and Drama. My voice was beginning to sound whispery.

  ‘Kass said you were great in your Drama project,’ she said. ‘So, I’m going to put acting down. It takes guts to get on stage and pretend to be someone else.’ She drummed the end of her pen on the paper. ‘What about your other subjects? Any chance of good exam results?’

  Her face was upbeat and eager. I felt a stab of frustration. ‘Why does everyone keep going on about exams? I’m not clever like Kass and Iris. I need something else.’

  ‘Well, that’s why we’re making a list. You don’t have to do it all.’

  ‘Why can’t John just like me?’

  ‘Mm,’ Cerys said. ‘I wonder if you might be a teensy bit jealous?’

  It was true that when I wanted to comfort myself, I imagined myself as brilliant and beautiful as the rest of them.

  ‘I’m taking your silence as a yes.’ Cerys hunched over the paper. ‘Jealousy isn’t helpful when trying to impress someone, so I’m writing the word empathy on your list. Do you know what that means?’

  ‘Not being jealous?’

  ‘It’s the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. John’s the only one with a job, right? That means he’s supporting everyone, paying for everything. He wants to relax when he comes home, not get hassled. Think about it from his perspective, that’s all I’m saying.’

  There it was – right there, the advice I’d come for. Put John first.

  ‘Kass told me his dad gets easily stressed,’ Cerys said. ‘And planning a wedding is right up there with death and redundancy. Did you know that? Do some nice things for him – make him cups of tea, offer to help around the flat.’

  Be nicer. Practise empathy.

  ‘Why not surprise everyone with a home-made meal?’ she said. ‘Tell them sorry about the party and promise
next time you get angry, you’ll count to ten and calm down. Treat it like an experiment, you know?’

  Be nicer. Practise empathy. Be sorry. Calm down.

  Cerys said, ‘Combine all that with a new hobby and a bit of studying and we’ll have a whole new you.’ She gave me a dazzling smile. ‘How’s that sound? Can you manage that?’

  A Whole New Me

  Instead of keeping silent at the supper table and letting John do the talking, I decided to show some interest in his world. I’d googled ‘being an architect’ and discovered that the work was hard, the hours long, the clients annoying and the pay was less than people thought.

  I also looked up ‘how to be made partner’, because John couldn’t build his dream house without money and, even though I didn’t want to move, I was trying to be empathetic.

  I repeated three pre-prepared questions in my head several times and then, when there was a window of silence, I asked John if he found dealing with builders, manufacturers and suppliers stressful?

  He said, ‘I’ve had a long day, Alexandra.’

  ‘I also wondered if you realized that the best way of becoming a partner at your firm is having a sense of ownership and acting as mentor for the team?’

  ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘I can’t be doing with you right now.’

  I took myself away, because I was clearly getting something wrong. A whole new me? Maybe I should start with my appearance? Cerys always made loads of effort. And Mum often said looking good was part of her commitment to John.

  I watched some videos about the best methods of disguising myself. I used Mum’s special foundation to even out my skin tone and for dramatic eyes, I used brown, silver and green eyeshadow. I tamed my hair with some of Mum’s expensive serum. My torn jeans were a bit casual, so I jazzed them up with Mum’s diamanté belt and black top. It was elasticated, so stretched to accommodate me and had a secret internal bra that gave my breasts loads of lift. I barely recognized myself when I stood in front of the full-length mirror. If I’d been a boy, I’d definitely fancy me. But when I went in the lounge and spun for them, Mum said, ‘Is that my top you’re wearing?’

  She told me to take it off before I stretched it out of shape. I reminded her that the top didn’t fit her since she’d got so skinny and John looked up from his phone and told me to stop being confrontational and go and do some homework.

  ‘I haven’t got any.’

  ‘You’ve got exams coming up, so I’d say you probably have.’

  Mum frowned at me. I knew what that look meant. She followed me to my bedroom. ‘Stop winding him up, Lex.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m getting him to like me.’

  She sighed and sank down onto the bed. ‘Ah, so that’s what this is about.’

  ‘No need to sound sad about it.’

  She studied me for a long time. She didn’t say anything.

  I said, ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘Because if you behaved, there wouldn’t be a problem.’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to do. I just told you. I’m going to make him a coffee next.’

  She nodded. ‘He likes it from the espresso maker. You want me to show you?’

  After scrubbing my face, we got straight on to John’s caffeine hit. He’d gone up to his study to finish some important work and Mum showed me how to measure the coffee and how to use the milk frother to make foam and how to sprinkle chocolate powder on top like they do in cafés. We used his favourite cup and put some of the new shortbreads on a plate and put it all on a tray.

  ‘Atta girl,’ Mum said. ‘He’ll love it.’

  I went up the stairs and stood in the doorway of his study until he noticed me and invited me in. He looked pleased. He fancied a coffee, he said. I must be a mind-reader. He took several sips and then he ate two biscuits one after the other. I stood there watching him, wondering if I should leave, or if he expected me to take everything away on the tray when he’d finished. I figured he’d tell me what to do, so I stood there breathing and waiting and trying not to be annoying.

  Eventually he said, ‘You’re still grounded for one more week.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I’m still furious about the party.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Asking random questions at supper and making me coffee doesn’t make up for anything.’

  ‘Of course not.’

  He drained his cup and passed it to me. ‘Now get out of here. I’ve got work to do.’

  ‘Would you like anything else?’

  ‘I’ll have a tea next time. In about an hour. Oh, and tell your mum to get those shortbreads again – they were delicious.’

  Be nicer. Be sorry. Calm down.

  It was easier than I’d ever imagined.

  Me and Mum washed up the coffee things. I helped put Iris to bed. We sat together in the lounge waiting for John to finish work and come and join us. I thought the three of us might watch a movie, but when John appeared he said he was going out.

  ‘It’s a bit late for the pub,’ Mum said.

  ‘I’m seeing a client.’

  ‘At this time?’

  He frowned. ‘Don’t start.’

  He went out to the hallway and put his shoes on and Mum took his jacket from the peg and held it tight to her chest and said, ‘You’ll come back?’

  ‘Can I have my jacket?’

  ‘Is that a yes or a no?’

  ‘For Christ’s sake.’

  Please, I thought, please don’t.

  ‘I was looking forward to spending time with you,’ Mum said.

  ‘Jacket,’ he said, holding out his hand.

  ‘John, I don’t want to argue.’

  ‘Well, you’re doing a great job of it. I’m going to be late for my client now. How do you think that’s going to look?’

  There was a thudding in my head and a sick bright feeling behind my eyes as my knee slammed into the coffee table and the crystal fruit bowl smashed to the floor and oranges and apples rolled across the carpet before settling themselves among splinters of glass.

  John dashed in from the hallway and surveyed every glittering shard.

  I said, ‘Whoops.’

  He stared at me and it was like some kind of liquid washed from him into me. It made my heart thunder.

  ‘Get out of my sight,’ he said.

  From my bedroom, I heard Mum sweep up the mess and John cancel his client before opening a bottle of wine. I heard him say, ‘We can’t go on like this,’ and Mum say, ‘I’ll talk to her tomorrow,’ and him say, ‘Talking doesn’t cut it any more.’

  The TV was switched on and I couldn’t hear them after that. They were probably cuddled together on the sofa. He’d be telling her work was stressful and he was exhausted, and she’d be comforting him. He’d tell her he was sorry for being short-tempered earlier and he loved her. Did she know that – how much he loved her?

  7

  I was surprised to find myself walking towards the drama studio after school. I never did extra-curricular activities, but when I saw the poster – Auditions today – it felt like an instruction. Cerys said I needed to do something that everyone could admire and for nearly a week, I’d found nothing to fit that category. But Drama had always been my favourite subject. For one thing, I liked other people’s lives more than my own. Also, it was the only class where teachers ever looked at me with that secret smile on their face that girls like Cerys probably got every lesson. A smile that meant – you are a joy to teach.

  If I got a role in The Tempest, John would definitely think I was awesome. Everyone knew you had to be smart to understand Shakespeare, and it would also count as studying, since it was one of the main texts for English. We’d seen the film version in class, where a woman played Prospero, and I liked how powerful she was. It’d be great to march around waving a magic staff to change the weather and control everyone. But Prospero had so many lines that I wasn’t sure I’d remember them all, so I thought I’d try for the role of the daughter
instead. A girl stuck on an island all her life, knowing nothing about the world, was a great chance to practise being nicer. Also, she got to tumble about with a handsome prince who got shipwrecked.

  ‘I’m proud of you,’ John would say when I shared the news that I was playing Miranda. ‘I forgive you for breaking the fruit bowl and I’m going to reinstate your allowance.’

  ‘I love you so much,’ Mum would say. ‘I always knew you were exceptional.’

  Iris would sit on my lap and plant kisses all over my face because her older sister was finally someone to be proud of.

  As for Kass – he’d come down from Manchester to watch every show and, on the last night, Mum and John would take us out for dinner and John would say, ‘Why aren’t you two boyfriend and girlfriend? You’re made for each other …’ And Kass would smile and ask me out and I’d pretend to think about it and then we’d all laugh as I said yes, and my life would be perfect from then on.

  There were about thirty kids waiting outside the theatre in the lobby of the drama block. A few turned to look as the door shut behind me. I slipped my rucksack off and slung it over my shoulder to give at least one hand something to do.

  Usually, I’d pretend not to care if people were looking. I’d stare back, giving the evil eye to anyone who didn’t look away. But today, I was trying to stick to the Cerys Instruction List. Be nicer.

  A girl from my drama class called Jamila was standing near the stairs. I waved at her. She waved back and looked friendly enough, so I walked over.

  ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘What part are you going for?’

  ‘Miranda.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be sure?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. She’s pretty quiet, I guess.’

  Was that an insult? She thought I was too disruptive? I frowned at her, but then remembered I was trying to be nicer.

  ‘You’d be great as Miranda,’ I said.

  We were silent for a bit. A few more kids came in and milled about. I was glad not to be standing by myself any more.