Anywhere's Better Than Here (26 page)

‘‘What what's for?'' What was he on about?

‘‘The training.''

She looked at him blankly.

‘‘It's so you don't have to fucking think under great stress. It's all about automatic responses, muscle memory. I mean, this is nothing.''

‘‘Okay, okay.'' They couldn't afford for him to lose it at this point. ‘‘But what are we going to do now?''

He took a deep, steadying breath. ‘‘Call to him.'' He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled the boy's name a few times. There was no response. ‘‘Not panic.''

‘‘Should we split up? Should I head back?'' She looked up and down the hill ‘‘Should I stay here?''

What was the best thing to do? It was getting dark very quickly.

‘‘No. We stay together.'' Gerry walked on again, calling Jamie's name into the dusk.

At first Laurie was too shy to call as well, fearing her voice would sound pathetic, but she soon gave it a go. As expected, her shouting was rubbish – sounding like Penelope Pitstop or some second rate horror actress. She couldn't even yell convincingly.

She scanned and rescanned the horizon. She willed him to show himself. Even if he was a bit injured it would be okay. Not too injured. Nothing spinal or in the head area. But a sprain, even a broken leg or dislocated arm. She could see that being okay.

‘‘Come on, come on,'' she muttered to herself, stomping up the hillside. What had they done? Who the hell takes some kid from a hospital and runs off with them? Regardless of what sob story you got from them, regardless of how you might feel about the situation – there were proper channels for this sort of thing: police officers, doctors, social workers. They couldn't all be useless, could they? There must be lots of effective, kind, organised professional people making sure that children weren't abandoned or murdered by callous or hapless parents.

Who were she and Gerry to think that they knew better? And now what had happened? They'd gone and bloody lost this child. Instead of being the heroes of the hour – plucking a child from abuse, riding off on a white charger to a warm and loving foster family – they would be the villains.

Gerry was tramping up the hill in a zig-zag shape. She hurried after him as best she could. It would be typical if she got herself lost.

Then she saw a flick of something. It was hard to tell in the thickening twilight. It was probably a rabbit or a sheep or something. She strained hard to make out the movement at the edge of a stand of trees.

‘‘Look, is that something up there?'' she asked, pulling at Gerry's sleeve.

‘‘No.''

‘‘No, it is.'' She pointed up repeatedly, uselessly. ‘‘Look!'' Gerry couldn't make anything out. ‘‘Look!'' She pulled at his sleeve again.

‘‘I am. There isn't anything.'' He shook her off.

‘‘Look harder!''

The boy came into focus as he moved towards them. His face became visible as he stumbled over the loose rocks and Laurie recognised the fear and gathering shame. He sat down heavily.

A little ‘‘oh!'' escaped from Laurie. They both rushed towards him but he stood up again holding a hand out to show he was okay.

There was no point in telling him off. Probably the last little while had been punishment enough. She knew she would have imagined all sorts if she'd been alone on the verge of darkness on a hill in winter. All sorts of things.

‘‘Jamie!'' yelled Gerry.

‘‘Don't,'' she stayed Gerry with a little nip on his arm. ‘‘Don't say anything. Don't frighten him.''

Jamie jumped down from a little rocky outcrop above where she and Gerry had stopped. He stood silently, waiting for his talking to.

She put an arm around the boy's shoulders and he suffered the touch for a long minute. She could feel his heart banging and wondered if he could feel hers.

Then he stepped away and started to walk back down the hill. There was no need to say anything.

Gerry stared after the boy, his face knotted in thought. Perhaps now he was realising they had to get in the car and take him home. Get shot of him immediately. Then he set off after Jamie who was making quick work of the rest of the hill.

Again, Laurie followed.

They managed to maintain their silence until they were inside the cottage. Then Gerry started up.

‘‘What were you thinking?'' he asked, his voice much too loud in the little hallway and his height making him seem to loom over the others.

Jamie wasn't going to be cowed. He squared up to Gerry, his hands fisted. ‘‘What were
you
thinking?''

Gerry's shoulders dropped down a little. He shook his head. ‘‘Just to go for a walk.'' He opened the door to the living room as he spoke.

‘‘Not then,'' the boy said.

‘‘What?''

Gerry and the boy stared at each other. Neither seemed able to back down.

Laurie touched Gerry on the arm; he obviously couldn't think straight. ‘‘At the hospital, Gerry.''

‘‘You said you were in trouble.'' Gerry said. ‘‘I wanted to help you.''

Jamie snorted. ‘‘You wanted to help me?''

Laurie glanced between the two of them. Gerry looked exhausted and Jamie's face had an unpleasant sneer.

‘‘Come on in here,'' Laurie said, ushering them into the living room. ‘‘There's still a bit of a fire left.'' She nudged Gerry. ‘‘Come on, let's get warmed up.''

Neither Gerry nor Jamie moved. Gerry stared into the fire and the boy stared at Gerry. The boy obviously had more to say but she couldn't be bothered trying to get it out of him.

Why did teenagers have to make everything about themselves all the time?

‘‘Look. We're all knackered.'' She put her hand on the boy's elbow and he stared down at her hand, forcing her to drop it. She persevered. ‘‘Things will look better in the morning.''

The boy smirked.

‘‘Really Laurie? Things'll really look better in the morning?'' His tone couldn't have been any more sarcastic. He sounded like a teenage caricature on a comedy show.

‘‘Sometimes Jamie,'' she said, trying hard to sound reasonable and patient, ‘‘people say things because they happen to be true.''

‘‘Whatever.'' That tone! It was so slappable.

It was hard trying to like him, he wasn't exactly easy company. She was fast coming to the realisation that the problems he said he was having at home were probably because he was such a little shit. Still. She was in this situation now and falling out with him wasn't going to help anyone. Perhaps if she tried to imagine he was a difficult customer at work; that might help. She had received some training on difficult customers, but it was so vague as to be pretty much useless and what she used to do was hang up on them and then pretend she was still speaking to them very politely so that her supervisor wouldn't know.

Anyway, Jamie was as sharp as anything. He'd know she was patronising him straight away and it would only cause more trouble. She rubbed her eyes trying to think of the best thing to do. Gerry was standing, shoulders slumped, in front of the fire. The boy looked at him with undisguised irritation, then bent to the fire and started poking about and blowing on to the little flames he eked out.

‘‘Good stuff Jamie.'' She knew she sounded like a Brown Owl, but she couldn't help it. ‘‘Why don't I get some food together then we can have a chat. OK?'' Gerry didn't look at her but just kept looking at the fireplace. To be fair, Jamie turned and nodded very seriously. She had to try and remember that he was only fifteen, just a kid. This had to be a very weird situation for him, being in the company of two complete strangers in a strange place, especially at this time of the year.

‘‘Okay.'' She stood with her hand on the door. ‘‘Will you be okay?''

Gerry nodded, looking at her for a moment. The boy nodded too and slumped back in the chair, eyes closed.

‘‘Are you sure?''

The boy's face creased into a tough guy sneer, but he still didn't open his eyes. ‘‘Obviously.''

She walked out of the room before she did something rash.

In the kitchen Gerry had unpacked the few items of food they'd managed to scavenge from his flat. There were two tins each of beans and chopped tomatoes. There was also a packet of instant potatoes and a bag of porridge.

‘‘Ace,'' she muttered to herself. She rooted around in the cupboards for more stuff, eventually finding some tins of soup. There were two vegetable soups and one minestrone. She opened them up and dumped them into a stock pot and put the stove on. While that heated up she leaned her elbows on the window sill and looked out of the window. It was pretty much black outside now and she couldn't make out much except for the edge of Gerry's granny's car which was parked at the side of the house and the shape of the outbuilding and the ominous looking outline of the woods. She strained to make out individual trees, but it was useless. There was just the darkness of the sky and the darker still mass of the trees. She had an instinctive fear of the woods at any time of day – never mind at night. The problem with woods was you had no idea what was going on in there. The first few trees might seem safe enough, but who knew what was lurking within?

‘‘What are you looking at?'' Jamie was standing next to her. She'd been so intent on thinking about what was going on outside that she'd paid no attention to what was going on in here. She felt wrong footed, as if she'd been caught doing something wrong.

‘‘The woods.'' She nodded towards them.

He squinted out at them. ‘‘I can't see anything.''

‘‘No. Neither could I.''

They stood staring out into the unseeable trees. After a moment, she said, ‘‘What do you think's going on in there?''

She watched their thin reflections in the window and saw him turning towards her. He was smiling – this was a variation on the last person on earth thing.

‘‘Bears, stags, prehistoric beasts.''

She nodded. ‘‘Yeah. And hobos, lost children, aliens.''

He laughed. ‘‘Bigfoot.''

‘‘Yeah. Bigfoot.''

He smiled shyly at her. She frowned. ‘‘Why did you go off like that?''

He shrugged. ‘‘I just got further ahead of you two and I wanted to just,'' he sighed, ‘‘sit down on my own for a bit.''

‘‘It's dangerous going off like that when it's getting dark.''

‘‘I know.''

‘‘We were worried, Jamie.'' She was trying to keep her voice concerned and not annoyed.

He shrugged again. ‘‘I was fine though.''

‘‘You didn't look very fine.''

His face clouded. ‘‘What would you know? You don't even know me. Neither of you do.''

She decided to be patient. ‘‘Would you like to talk about why you were at the hospital?''

He looked down at his hands which were leaning on the counter top next to Laurie.

‘‘Come on Jamie. A problem shared and all that.'' She shouldn't push him. That tactic never worked well on TV. She should let him open up slowly, confident that he would be listened to. He'd feel better if he talked about the accident. She had to keep in mind that his friend had died.

She nudged him gently with her elbow. He glanced up at her and then down at his hands again. He moved his hand a little closer towards Laurie's, almost touching her. Laurie could feel her breath slowing as she considered what to do now. He didn't move his hand and he didn't look at her.

She took a step towards the stove and stirred the soup which wasn't even bubbling.

‘‘This will take forever,'' she said, lifting the pot to see if the ring was even on. It was, but barely. She started to turn back to the window, but Jamie blocked her way. He stood so there was no way she could move past him without touching him.

‘‘Excuse me Jamie,'' she said with great politeness.

He didn't move. He was about the same height as Ed, but broader. If you were to superimpose Ed's head on to Jamie's body, you wouldn't think of it as a child's body – in fact, Ed would look much better for Jamie's body. It would make him seem more manly.

There was no room for her to step backwards because of the stove.

‘‘Jamie,'' she said, still calmly.

‘‘What?'' he said, leaning towards her as if to kiss her.

She gave him a firm little push as if her were a puppy. He stepped back, his hands held palm first in front of himself.

‘‘God, I thought you were into it!'' He was acting as if she had offended him.

‘‘What! No you didn't, you couldn't possibly have.'' She didn't want to cause any trouble, but this was getting away from her.

‘‘Why not?'' he asked, the peevish tone of his voice much more like a child's now.

‘‘Because, obviously, I'm much older than you.''

‘‘You're nearer to my age than you are to his.'' He smiled as if he'd gained something.

‘‘But that still doesn't mean anything.'' She shuddered. ‘‘God, you're fifteen. It wouldn't even be legal.''

‘‘So you mean if I was older, it would be possible.''

‘‘God, no! Don't put words in my mouth.''

Now she was flustered and he was a cocky young man again.

She took a deep breath. ‘‘Jamie, I can only imagine that this is because of the,'' she paused, ‘‘unusual circumstances.'' She had to get things back onto an appropriate track quickly. She could see he had given up but was too embarrassed to make things right. It must be shit being a boy and being led around all the time by sex.

‘‘Anyway.'' She made an effort to sound completely normal. She'd have to try her family's tactic of pretending unpleasant scenes had never happened. ‘‘Back to what we were talking about.''