Authors: Katy Moran
“Who was it?” I asked, feeling like an intruder, as if I’d witnessed something I shouldn’t have. Something private. What had it been? Fear? Despair? None of this was turning out like I’d thought.
“The duty manager at Centrepoint in London.” Dad’s voice had changed, hardened. “There’s been no sign of your brother.”
“Maybe he hasn’t gone to a homeless shelter,” I said. “Maybe he’s OK.” It was getting more difficult to believe.
“I’m glad you think so,” said my father. He turned and watched the cows outside for a moment. “Herod always was different. Sensitive. You could tell he saw things in a way no one else did. Even when he was just a kid.” He looked up and I could tell the barrier had slid back into place like a sheet of bulletproof glass; we were divided again. “So. I need to talk to you. Your class teacher told me about the money, Jack. And the TV.”
I felt like I’d swallowed a lump of ice.
Dad stared at me, frighteningly calm. “Mr Trelawney is concerned you’re funding a drug habit, but I said there was no way you’d be that much of an idiot after what happened to your brother. I’m right, aren’t I?”
I nodded. I wanted to throw up.
“Luckily for you,” Dad went on, “Mr Trelawney’s not interested in involving the police. He just asked me to make sure it didn’t happen again.”
“It won’t,” I said, quickly.
Dad just nodded. “I know it won’t.” Why was he so chilled? Last time we’d met he’d whacked me across the face. I’d have almost preferred that to this sinister calm. He was planning something.
“And there’s something else,” he went on. “Isn’t there? You left the school grounds today without permission, I hear.”
Bethany.
“Listen,” Dad said, “you don’t hassle a girl when her family have said they don’t want you hanging around. That means you leave her alone, OK?”
I stared at him. He was making it sound like I was some kind of creepy stalker. For a second, I even believed it myself. Then I remembered that half the times we’d been together, Bethany had done the planning herself.
“It’s not like that,” I told him.
Dad said nothing, just leaned back in his chair, watching me a moment. He reached into a drawer and pushed a sheaf of glossy brochures across the glass desk top. I stared at them, first of all only seeing the design, how similar they all were. Rosy old buildings with pointed archways, spreading green lawns, improbably attractive kids on the front wearing jackets and ties.
“I ought to have done this years ago but I respected your mother’s wishes instead,” Dad said. You’ll have your choice of these places. I believe they all have particularly good Art departments.”
They were brochures for schools. Boarding schools. “No, thanks,” I said, heart pounding. This was why he was so calm. He was already dealing with the situation – with me. In his mind, the problem was solved. I would be neatly packed away, never mind the cost, and no one would have to worry about me for the next few years.
But it was as if I hadn’t even spoken. “Have a look through, take your pick,” Dad went on. “There isn’t a whole lot of time but you’ll have the chance to visit before making a final decision.” He fixed his eyes on me.
I stared back. I felt cold, really shivery. He couldn’t do this. “I’m not going—”
Dad completely ignored me. “You’ll start in September with a hell of a lot of catching up to do, which I’m afraid is going to screw up any summer plans you had.” He was going to ruin everything. I started to feel panicked, like I couldn’t breathe properly. I had to see Bethany. I had to. “I understand the state system over here lags pretty far behind in terms of academic achievement—”
“I’m not going to any of those schools! You can’t just turn up and start controlling my life.”
Dad sat back in his chair, watching me steadily, waiting for me to finish. He was so calm. It was horrible. “Take the brochures – you’ll need to put together a shortlist by the weekend.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I don’t think you heard me. I’m not changing schools.”
He got up and walked around the desk so that we were facing each other again. “The decision is made, Jack.”
“Save yourself the money.”
“Listen,” Dad said, quietly, “I’m not an idiot. I know why you don’t like me. You have good reason not to. It’s not like I’ve been around, which is a situation I regret more than I expect you to understand—”
“Oh, stop it!” I shouted. “It’s too late. You’re not even my dad any more. Louis is. It’s not my fault you’re a failure. That’s the only reason you’re looking for Herod and it’s the only reason you’re throwing your weight around now. Why don’t you just fuck off and leave us all alone?”
“Control yourself.” My father’s voice was cold. “Do you understand me?”
“Clearly.” I spoke through my teeth. “You should never have come back. Do you understand me?”
“I think you’ve said enough.” I was being dismissed. Fine.
I had the parting shot, though. “It’s not just about school,” I said. “You never call back, do you? There’s always a reason why, but you just never do. How much effort does it take to pick up a phone?”
Dad didn’t have an answer to that. There was no one else he could blame. I walked out.
Marcus and Alicia were in the hall. Marcus was holding a tray of drinks, she in the middle of talking. Her shiny, lip-glossed mouth froze. They stared at me a second. It must have been pretty obvious my meeting with the CEO hadn’t been a success.
I drew in a deep breath. “Don’t mind if I do.” I took a cold glass from the tray and walked past them, through the sitting room and into the library. I sat down on a red leather armchair, staring at the glass cabinet with the ancient blue bowl, holding the iced glass to my forehead. Then I drank the lot, looking out of the window at the vines swaying lightly in the breeze. Gin and tonic. A strong one.
I was trapped in here. A prisoner.
Sammy was meant to be meeting me in the hall outside Drama. Last lesson, Friday. Time was running out. The corridor running past the Lower Sixth Common Room was rammed with backpacks and tents. A big group of them were catching the Castle Cary train straight after school. I had a tenner in my pocket, lent by Georgie Hicks, but that was it. Nowhere near enough for a train fare: I’d have to hide in the bogs again. Not with Bethany this time.
Please, God, let her be there
, I thought. Seven and a half hours till we were due to meet, and no way of knowing if she was OK.
Sammy turned up ten minutes late, looking harassed. “Sorry, mate.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Got your wristband and ticket.” Gold dust. He passed me an envelope, which I immediately zipped into the pocket of my black combats – the closest approximation to school trousers I’d found in the stuff Alicia had given me.
“Listen,” he went on, “Mum got all freaked out about Bethany. You guys sharing a tent and stuff. She was going on and on about being responsible for both of you.”
“Shit!” I hadn’t expected to get any trouble from Yvonne. “What are we going to do? We’ll have to help Bethany get in over the fence—”
“Calm down. It’s all right,” Sammy said. “Jesus, you’re so wound up. Mum’s put that mate of Bethany’s down on the staff list as well. You know, the geeky one – Amelia. So Bethany’s not the only girl and stuff.”
Relief.
“Jack,” Sammy said, “are you going to be OK for this? We’re catching the train at half four.”
“It’s cool,” I said. “I’ll be there. The last two days, my dad’s just sent a car, hasn’t he? No Alicia. A different driver each time. When I don’t turn up, the guy’s going to think he’s got the wrong school or something.”
Sammy nodded. “Me and Jono are going home first to pick up the tents and stuff. If you don’t make the train I’ll see you in the Green Fields tonight.” He grinned at me. “I know you’ll be there, OK? Fuck them.”
“OK, I’m heading out of school the back way just in case Alicia does turn up. If Trelawney or anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.”
Sammy nodded. “Green Fields at eleven. If you can’t find the café just ask someone. We’re on the late shift tonight – you, me, Bethany and Jono – twelve till six. Mum’ll go spare if she’s got to arrange cover. Here.” He handed me a pack of baccy, some Rizlas and a lighter. Good old Sammy.
“She won’t have to,” I said, and walked off down the corridor, rolling a fag as I went. I was gasping for one.
I lit up crossing the playground and walked round the corner of the Sports Hall towards the back field, savouring the delicious hit. Even prisoners in jail got to smoke – I definitely had a bad deal.
I walked straight into Mr Trelawney and my father.
A split second passed before they noticed me; they’d been talking, and I remembered they knew each other. From when Trelawney was Herod’s teacher.
Dad looked out of place outside our grotty Sports Hall. You could just tell he was different: suntanned and rich, the sweet scent of money came off him in waves, despite his faded black jeans, the sun-bleached T-shirt.
For a split second I considered running for it, but couldn’t stand the thought of him catching me. I wasn’t about to let him win a single battle.
“Smoking on school grounds, Jack?” Trelawney sighed. “I thought you had more sense.”
Dad said nothing about the cigarette, but I hadn’t expected him to. He just narrowed his eyes slightly, reading me again.
* * *
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Mum had said on the phone, “but this time I agree with your father. I really don’t think you should go to Glastonbury. There’s too much going on and to be honest you’ve just been so irresponsible I’m afraid something awful will happen. Maybe next year, OK?”
Even Louis was no good.
“No way, I’m not getting involved. This is between you and your mum and dad. And to be fair, it’s not exactly as if we feel we can trust you at the moment, is it? This is your fault, Jack. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to take the consequences.”
I wasn’t going to get any help from Mum and Louis.
I stared back at Dad, unblinking. Heat rose from the playground, radiating from the shabby brick wall of the Sports Hall. Had Dad guessed what I was about to do? Why come otherwise? He’d seen no reason to before now. All the same, I wasn’t about to let him sniff out the acidic, burning panic slowly snaking up my throat. OK, this made things a lot more difficult. It was going to take more than an hour to reach Oxford by car. Then I’d have to get myself onto a train without him knowing.
“So, see you next week, Jack,” Mr Trelawney said, and I realized he must have been speaking to me for a few moments already. “Try to sort out your uniform by then, OK?” He turned to my dad. “It sets a bad example to the younger kids, that’s the problem. He’ll need his books, too. They’re due to hand in a project before the end of term.”
“It’ll be arranged.”
Well, at least now I knew Dad was a pretty cold bastard to everyone, not just me.
The car journey was silent. Neither of us said a single word. Dad didn’t even put the radio on and I wasn’t about to. Before the night ended, I needed to pull off some pretty audacious moves. I’m an idiot but I’m not completely brain-dead. I know when to keep my head down.
Ten minutes later, things really didn’t look good. We pulled up outside the house and went in, still silent, Dad stepping back to allow me in first. So extremely courteous of him.
For once, there was no sign of Alicia, or the Labrador.
“Come into the kitchen,” Dad said. “I want to talk to you.”
Oh, great. I followed him in, again thinking how surreal it was that my dad’s kitchen had been featured in a national newspaper. He leaned against the shiny stove. I still hadn’t seen him or Alicia cook anything. The food each night just seemed to appear from nowhere. Salmon and steamed potatoes. Steak.
“I know you were meant to be going to a music festival this weekend,” Dad said.
Ah. Here we go,
I thought. “You must be pretty angry at me by now, Jack, because obviously I’m not allowing you to go. But I’m not doing all this to be an asshole. I hope that one day you’ll understand. People are worried about you.”
I think I preferred silent and nasty.
I shrugged.
“I know what I would have done in your position,” Dad went on. “And just so you know, there’s no way you’ll get to the train station tonight. Don’t bother trying.”
OK, I’d got the message. He’d be watching me.
He changed tack. “We’ve got some interesting people over tonight. A guy called John Hannigan from Sony. Maybe next year we’ll get you tickets for a couple of the big US music festivals. Burning Man. Lollapalooza.” I understood the implication:
If you toe the line now.
The thing was, he’d made a mistake treating me like his personal lapdog, ready to come whenever he called. He’d made an even bigger mistake slapping me across the face. It’s the kind of thing that turns you off a person. Makes you feel uncooperative. And a year’s a long time.
I was due to meet Bethany in six hours: the most important thing of all.
I had to be there.
“OK,” I said. “OK.” I didn’t even lie. It was the hypocrisy that got me, but I didn’t ask why Dad was filling his house with “interesting people” and basically throwing a party if he was so worried about Herod.
By eight, the library was filling up with old gits clutching cocktail glasses and I had begun to descend into a state of panic. The hours were slipping by but every time I moved, the Labrador, Alicia or one of my father’s corpse-like friends would be right behind me. It was like I was being followed and, who knows, maybe I was – I wouldn’t put anything past my dad. I lost track of how many boring questions I answered about school; I got cornered by a scary woman from the BBC who wanted to know “how you young people
really
communicate” (er, like, by talking, with our mouths?); a journalist from the
Guardian
wanted to know if I would review teenage novels for their books section. It was like being trapped in a very weird dream, all the more so because of my mounting panic that I’d never get away. I was never going to be in the Green Fields by eleven, at least, but I hoped like crazy that somehow I’d make it there before our shift finished so I could explain everything to Bethany.