Dating Down Page 14

  “And what would you know?” Harnessing my self-loathing, I light a ciggie and blow the smoke upwards. It’s a beautiful sunny day, but all I can see are dark skies.

  “I’ve been spending a lot of time with him these last few days.”

  “I bet you have.” Burning up with jealousy, I turn on her, hating her because I want her as much now as I did before she shat all over me. “If you think you’re going to get me back by throwing yourself at Bill –”

  “I don’t,” she says, not letting me finish. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  She floors me. Just because it’s insane to go back with her after everything she did to me doesn’t mean I don’t want it, and doesn’t mean I don’t want her to want me. “Then what do you want?”

  “You were really kind to me,” she says, her voice so calm and soothing it almost stills the rage taking me over. “And I was a complete cow.”

  “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know!”

  “I’m going to put things right.”

  “And how do you intend to do that?” The pressure of holding back my pain and rage is killing me. “My life was crap before you came along, and it’s a million times worse now!”

  “Because I’m going to stop Social Services taking Jack away.”

  For the second time in as many seconds, she knocks the wind from me. She’s bluffing. There’s no way the Social are going to take Jack. I was the problem. I was the one who left Jack, and I’m not there anymore.

  “You’re lying,” I say, but I can tell she isn’t the moment I look at her.

  “No.” She takes a small step forward. “Social Services are coming around to do some kind of assessment tomorrow. Bill says if you’re not there, they’ll take Jack away.”

  “Then why didn’t he tell me?” I’m angry again, and not with myself this time but with Bill.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I guess he didn’t want to blackmail you into coming back.”

  I laugh and almost cry too, because it proves what I’ve known all my life and that Social Services are really clueless.

  “What’s so funny?” She sits down on the far side of the bench, her face hidden by her mass of curls that burns copper in the sun.

  “You wouldn’t understand.” I take another drag of my smoke.

  “Try me,” she says. “Because I don’t understand how you of all people could have abandoned them after everything they did for you.”

  Her words rob me of any kind of comeback.

  “Bill told me he asked his mother to adopt you.” She risks looking at me. Without makeup, she looks even more innocent, and I have to remind myself again it was her that got me locked up in a police cell all night. “So Social Services would never take you away again.”

  “He did?” I wish I didn’t like her so much. If I didn’t, I’d be able to walk away.

  “Yes.” She smiles. “Do you know why?”

  I shake my head, still clueless about what Bill might have said.

  “Because he made two pounds for every forged sick note he sold.”

  I groan, highly embarrassed now. I think the school was seriously worried at one stage that me and Bill were going into the forging business. Grace even got called in to see the headmaster, but it was just a bit of harmless fun to bolster our pocket money.

  “I know you love Jack and Bill,” she says. “And I know they love you, so why did you leave?”

  “I had to.” I really don’t know why I’m telling her, but I can’t help it. It’s that connection between us. “It’s the only way I can keep them safe.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No, you wouldn’t!” I get angry because I thought she’d get it, and it only reminds me how different we are and how stupid I was for even thinking we could be together.

  “They’re going to make Jack live with your aunt or worse still put him into care!” she says, coming back fighting. “Is that what you really want?”

  “Well, it’s probably the safest place for him.” It hurts to admit it, but it’s the truth. “I nearly killed him.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “NO!” I shout. “I had no choice!”

  She stares at me open mouthed like I’m mad, and I guess I must be pretty mad, because why else would I be telling some spoilt, lying, rich bitch what a screw-up I am? I mean, if she’ll happily leave me to rot in a police cell when I saved her life, what’s she really capable of?

  “Jack’s going to be taken away,” she says, stirring the guilt deep inside me. “He’ll be taken away from Bill, his home...”

  “Enough!” I can’t listen to any more. If I do, I’m going to crack up. “Do you think I don’t know that?”

  “So why won’t you go back?”

  “Because I’ll end up hurting Jack again!” My pulse pounds out of control, making my head throb even more. “The first time my dad put me in hospital, he lied to Social Services and they sent me back, and I spent the next six months in and out of hospital. Don’t you see?”

  She shakes her head. God, she must be thick!

  “I was lying to Social Services at Jack’s bedside. He’s got all those tubes in him and nearly died, and I’m trying to save my own sorry arse, and I was the one who put him in hospital!”

  I can’t settle. I’m so wound up I feel like my head’s going to explode. I kick the bin. I kick the wall. I pace up and down. I sit down and get straight back up again, but the anger, the hurt, whatever it is, it keeps on growing.

  “You think you’re like your father because you left Jack alone?”

  “At last!” I snarl, fumbling for another smoke. “Go straight to the top of the class.”

  She’s scared. I can see it in her face and I’m glad, because I want her to go. “I thought your dad hit you so hard he knocked you down the stairs and you broke your arm.”

  “He did.” My right arm starts to ache again now she’s awoken the memory.

  “Doesn’t sound like an accident to me,” she says.

  “IT WAS!” I remember. I was there; she wasn’t. He was asleep, and I was in my room drawing. I reached for a pen and knocked over the lamp. “He didn’t mean it. I was being a pain. I shouldn’t have woken him up!”

  “You woke up your dad and he struck you so hard you fell down the stairs.” She speaks the words in disbelief.

  “Yeah, how many more times?” To my horror, I can feel the tears pressing against the back of my eyes.

  “How old were you?”

  “Eight, nine, I don’t know.” I can’t remember. I was small, I know that.

  “And you think it was your fault?”

  “I had to keep quiet!” Christ, doesn’t she listen to a word I’m saying? My dad worked nights. He had to sleep in the day, and I had to keep quiet. “He didn’t like to be woken up. I woke him!”

  “And when Jack wakes you up, do you hit him?”

  “Don’t be stupid!”

  “Why is that stupid?” She stands before me, hands on her hips like she’s going to challenge me to a fight. “If it was all right for your father to hit you, why isn’t it all right for you to hit Jack?”

  “SHUT UP!” She’s twisting things, playing with the truth, and I can’t think straight because I’m dead on my feet, and the tears are streaming down my face, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.

  “You’re nothing like your father!” she says, walking up to me. “What you did was wrong, but you’re a good person. You gave up your place at uni to help Bill, you spend hours looking after Jack, and you saved my life. A bad person doesn't do all that.”

  “Then why does everyone leave me?”

  “They don’t!” she cries, pointing back towards the hospital. “There’s two people up there for a start who haven’t left you!”

  “But Grace…” I really don’t want to go there, but I’ve got no choice.

  “Grace didn’t send you away!” she snaps, not letting me finish. “The only reason she wanted to speak to Bi
ll was to make him promise to keep you all together. That was her dying wish. Now isn’t it about time you helped Bill make it come true?”

  Thursday 5:00 p.m.

  Tammy

  I surprise myself with what a good case I make, especially as I was always so terrible in debating societies, but I guess I didn’t care that much about whether Britain should stay in Europe or if men make better business leaders. I do care about Gary. I care about what happens to him and Bill and Jack more than the polar bears, the white tigers, and all the other endangered species put together. I care about them more than anything.

  “Well?” You’d think I just gave him the formula to calorie-free ice cream instead of just pointing out what was in front of his face all along, but he continues to stare at me like I am insane for being on such a high.

  “Well?” I say for a second time when he still fails to respond. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Grace wanted you, Bill, and Jack to stay together. She didn’t hate you. She didn’t want you to go away. All you’ve got to do is go home and show Social Services Jack’s better off with you!”

  There is no way he can fail to realise he’s been wrong, but still he stands there in stunned disbelief, the tears frozen in his eyes. “Gary?”

  I really don’t believe him. I didn’t expect him to jump up and down and whoop for joy, but I did expect a smile. After all, the last time I saw him, he was crying like a baby because he thought his family hated him and he was all on his own.

  “Well,” I prompt again. “Say something!”

  He straightens up to his full height, takes a deep breath, and engages me with his beautiful chocolate eyes, and I go all weak at the knees. I can’t help it: I love him. If I wasn’t sure before, I am now. I mean, I’ve spent the last few days getting to know the real him, the artist that paints the most amazing characters and landscapes. The brother that draws silly little cartoons of boats, trains, and bicycles to teach Jack to spell and leaves notes telling Bill not to worry about the electric – he’s taken care of it. How can I not love him? How can I not want to be with someone so talented and generous, and how can I live with myself if he throws everything he wants away?

  I risk a smile and take a step nearer, all the anger and frustration draining out of me as I silently plead with him to believe me. He doesn’t welcome me with open arms, but he doesn’t push me away either. As his lips draw me in, I start to tingle all over.

  Could it really be so simple? Can I really make everything better just by giving in to my desires and kissing him? I don’t know. All I can rely on is my instinct, and that instinct is telling me to kiss him, to hold him, to show him just how much he’s loved.

  Not wanting to close my eyes because I don’t want to deny myself the tingling pleasure of his beauty, I stand on tiptoe and press my lips to his, my stomach doing somersaults. Fear he’ll reject me combined with the anticipation of his touch makes my heart flutter.

  At first he’s like a statue, our lips barely touching. I kiss him, but he doesn’t kiss me back. And then I hear him moan softly, and his mouth starts to move with mine. Closing my eyes, I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him to me, determined never to let him go again.

  The sirens from the ambulances, the rush of people coming and leaving the hospital, the petrol fumes from the busses, and a million and one other noisy distractions – I don’t notice any of it. I’m in paradise. I’m on a white sandy beach at sunset, a calm turquoise sea lapping at my toes, making out with the most gorgeous guy on the planet. I –

  “No!” Pulling free, he staggers backwards, chest heaving, breaking my heart all over again.

  “What’s wrong?” There’s a white-hot poker twisting inside my gut as I see the doubt spread across his face.

  “You.” All his invisible defences spring up to attention. “You and your bloody games!”

  “I’m not playing any games.” I try to reach out to him, but he brushes my hand away. “Gary, I love you.”

  “Stop saying that!” Face all twisted up with hurt, he continues to keep me at arm’s length like I’m some kind of dangerous attacker. “You don’t know nothing!”

  “Don’t tell me what I do and don’t know!” I snap. “I love you. I did from the very moment I saw you. And you love –”

  “Crap!” he yells, not letting me finish. “If you did, you wouldn’t have left me to rot in a police cell so you could be Miss Popular.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  I don’t know who said the truth hurts; I think it was Henry Rollins or some other American singer. I can’t remember. Mr Millington, our English teacher, asked us all to write about a famous quotation or saying and apply it to our lives. I chose “truth hurts,” and when he asked me to read out my essay, everyone laughed because what hurt me the most was being called fat by my mother. I realise now that pain was insignificant to what is burning through me now.

  “I’m sorry.” I don’t feel brave anymore. The pain, the tears, it’s overwhelming, and it’s a million times worse because I still have the memory of his kiss on my lips. “I was scared.”

  “And you don’t think I was?”

  Burning shame prevents me from looking at him.

  “How scared do you think I was when your mother’s lawyer started to put the frighteners on me?”

  “Nick was there to help you.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “He was!” I insist. “He got the police to drop all charges, he told me.”

  “No,” Gary tells me, taking a step forward. “He was there to make sure we never saw each other again. If I hadn’t done what he said, he was going to make sure I went down!”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Na.” The smile on his lips is nasty. “He offered me money too.”

  It’s all too much, and the tears once again claim me. I can’t believe that my mother hates me so much she would actively go out of her way to take away the only good thing in my miserable life.

  “I didn’t know any of that.” I sob, at the complete mercy of the tears.

  “Okay.” And for a split second I think he’s forgiven me. “But you knew they’d arrested me, and you knew them blokes had done more than hassle you, and you knew what they would have done to you if I hadn’t come along when I did.”

  My skin flushes cold as once again I’m transported back to the park when they were on top of me, and I hate him for making me go back there. “You’re not so bloody perfect either,” I say, trying to take back control. “I lied to the police, but you, you left Jack on his own and he nearly died.”

  He whirls round, eyes dark as pitch, and I know I really should shut up, but I don’t. If I’ve got to listen to all my mistakes, he’s going to have to listen to his too!

  “Bill had given up!” I tell him. “He was just sitting there in your pigsty of a house, waiting for Social Services to take Jack away.”

  I know I’m getting to him because he turns to leave, but he’s not going to run away from the truth. I’m not going to let him, and I grab him by the arm.

  “You should have been there for him,” I continue. “You should have been there for both of them, not me! It’s your fault they’re in this mess, but unlike me, you’re too scared to try and put things right.”

  I guess my words smacked some sense into him, because his features soften, and even though he is a really unhealthy shade of grey and looks like he hasn’t shaved or slept all week, he’s the Gary who saved me and danced with me in the rose garden.

  For the longest minute in the world, he stands there in silence, and I know he’s thinking hard, because he’s chewing on his bottom lip and his brow is all knotted. Then he takes a final drag on his cigarette, drops it on the pavement, and stamps on it.

  “My gran died ten years ago.” His brown eyes growing softer with each word, he lets out a sigh. “I lived with her half my life, and do you know what I’ve got left to remind me of her?”

  I shake my head, too scared to say the wrong thing in case I
lose him again.

  “Her bingo membership and this stupid poster!” He pulls a cardboard tube out of the bin and sinks down on the bench.

  “You’ve got your memories. No one can take them away from you.”

  “Yeah, right,” he sneers. “Do you remember what you did that Christmas when we had all that snow?”

  I shake my head. He’s got a point.

  “You need stuff. Real stuff! That’s why I lost my temper with Jack, ’cos he broke those bloody stupid pottery figures Grace collected.”

  I don’t really understand what he’s telling me. Gary’s all riddles and mysteries, but that’s part of what makes him so addictive.

  “She was the best,” he continues in the same sad tones. “I would have been in a kids’ home if it wasn’t for her, and I never even went to her funeral.”

  I nod. Bill told me. Bill told me lots of things.

  “I couldn’t face it,” he continues, left foot tapping with anxiety. “I thought she hated me, and I felt stupid because I missed her.”

  I know once again he is reaching out to me, and he is telling me something he’s never told anyone else, not his gran, not Grace, not even Bill. Realising this is the very last chance I have to win back his trust, I inch nearer to him, conscious I can’t afford to mess up again.

  “I couldn’t handle it,” he says, staring off into space. “I just couldn’t go through all that again, and so I started drinking till I got so wasted I didn’t even know who I was. I drank so I could forget her.” He lets out a long sigh and reaches out to me with pleading eyes. “I’m wasted all the time.”

  “I know.” And just so he knows I don’t care, I take his hand in mine and give his fingers a quick squeeze.

  “You must think I’m a right tosser.”

  “No, I don’t, but why didn’t you talk to Bill?”

  He grunts. “Have you any idea what a state Bill was in?”

  “No.” I swallow, feeling stupid.

  “I had to keep it together somehow.” He shrugs. “I’d been through it before, see. And then Jack got sick and he wanted Grace, and he wouldn’t stop going on about her, and he broke a load of her stuff, and I... I just lost it, and there was no beer in the house, and I just had to get out of there...”