Hello World (14 page)

‘Luckily
for you, you won’t have to lay your precious eyes on it for much longer,’ I say
coldly, announcing my presence. Charlie’s eyes dart up to meet mine and my
Grandmother just stands up with that ease of grace.

‘Good, I
hope that next time I see you, you won’t be dressed so inappropriately,’ she
replies. Even though she is shorter than me, she still seems to have the
ability to look down on everyone.

I snort,
anger boiling up inside and I clench the frame tighter, my other hand balling
into a fist.

‘Oh, don’t
waste your breath. You won’t be seeing me again. Ever,’ I say firmly. ‘It’s
hardly like you wanted me here in the first place, I’m nothing but an
inconvenience to you.’

‘How dare
you speak to me like this?’ Grandma hisses back, some of her guests starting to
stare now.

‘Guys,
this isn’t the time or the place,’ Charlie pleads, standing up too. We both
ignore him.

‘Why do
you hate me so much, Granny? Is it because I’m here and my dad isn’t? Because
I’m sure you’d be a hell of a lot nicer to me if he was. Well guess what, there
was nothing I could have done about that damn car crash. I wasn’t even in the
car!’ I yell at her, my face reddening with fury.

‘Wash your
mouth out, you stupid girl,’ she snaps before turning abruptly to Charlie.
‘You’re going to let her speak to me like this? I thought you could handle the
responsibility of raising a child, it seems I was severely mistaken.’ Charlie
visibly flinches.

‘Leave him
out of this,’ I demand. How dare she treat him like that?

My
Grandmother’s small frame shakes violently as she rounds on me again. ‘You
will
show me some form of respect,’ she
snaps, her voice rising. ‘If your father was here now he would be ashamed to
call you his daughter!’

Everything,
and everyone, falls into silence.

My mouth
falls open, her words like a verbal slap.

‘That is
enough.’ A strangely dark and furious voice orders. Shakily, I realise the
words came from Charlie, who is glowering dangerously, his glare cast towards
his mother.

‘I realise
I have never managed to please you, that role always fell to Peter, and I’ve
gotten used to your crap over the years. But
never
will you speak to Neve like that again,’ Charlie tells her
sharply. His mother blinks in surprise. ‘She’s Peter’s daughter, or have you
forgotten that? If not for her, then at least treat his only daughter with the
respect she deserves, for him. Until you learn to do that, we won’t be coming
back. Neve, we’re leaving.’

With that,
Charlie storms out, leaving the rest of us completely dumbstruck. Finally
though, I manage to pull myself far enough out of the daze to follow him to the
car.

Wordlessly,
we get in and he starts driving. We go well over the speed limit but I don’t
dare mutter a word. In all my life, I have never seen Charlie angry. I’ve
certainly never seen that look on his face before.

Keeping my
thoughts to myself, I glance down to find my parent’s wedding photo still in my
grasp, my knuckles white from where I have been holding onto it too tightly.
Silently, I hug the frame against my chest, willing myself not to cry. I’m good
at putting the tears on hold.

We spend
the whole journey in silence, and as soon as we get back home Charlie flies
into the kitchen and slams the door. I stand in the doorway for a moment before
gently closing the front door and going to hide in my room, still cradling the
photo.

I flinch
when something in the kitchen smashes.

I wait
until I’m sat on my bed, staring at the photo before I let the tears fall,
shaking violently with the effort of keeping my sobs silent.

Am I
really that much of a disappointment that my own dad would be ashamed of me?

But then
again, it shouldn’t be a surprise should it? I’m ashamed of myself, of the
things I have done. Ashamed of what happened with Alex, of how my mere presence
has ruined Charlie’s life. Maybe I should have died in that car crash along
with my parents.

It’s not until
about half an hour later that I hear a quiet knock at my door. I take one last
sniff and quickly wipe at my eyes before calling for Charlie to come in. He
walks in slowly, his eyes bloodshot and hair ruffled. I guess we both look a
mess.

Silently,
he sits on my bed and shuffles next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders
so that I can lean against him.

‘She
shouldn’t have said those things. She’s said so many things to me and to your
father over the years, but to hear something like that directed at you…’
Charlie trails off, shaking his head. ‘I don’t like to question my mother, but
she’s wrong. She is so, completely, utterly wrong. Your father couldn’t be more
proud of you, your mum too. And so am I, I mean that,’ he tells me, his voice
thick with emotion. ‘I really do, Neve.’

Not having
the voice to speak, I just nod and we sit there in silence. It’s then that I
remember the frame in my hands and I tap the glass.

‘What were
my parents like?’ I ask in a small voice. Charlie grins.

‘How can I
put it? Your dad would be there to use me as a punch bag and your mother would
be there to patch me up afterwards,’ he laughs. ‘We used to wrestle a lot,
especially as kids. He always won. Always. But your dad was loyal, and wouldn’t
let anyone else lay a finger on me. He was smart too. I was the younger kid so
you can imagine how much he liked to wind me up. And your mum, I’ve never met
another woman like her. She just had this way about her, you couldn’t resist
laughing when she did. Angeline just possessed a certain charm, she was
beautiful and kind too. But, she was also a complete klutz. Ever wondered how I
got the tiny scar on my left leg? Your Mum dropped a plate on me, straight from
the oven.’

I laugh at
his expression, his fondness for them warming me slightly.

‘How did
they meet?’

‘University.
Your dad was studying to be a doctor and your mum was working in a coffee shop
near to the campus, one he visited daily, studying art. They just sort of…
happened. They dated for three years before he finally popped the question,’ he
grins.

‘Mum
studied art?’ I ask, my eyebrows flying up. Charlie chuckles.

‘Where did
you think you got your creative streak from? Certainly not your dad. He was
perfect at everything else, but give him a paint brush and he wouldn’t know
which way to look.’

I smirk
and we fall into silence again before Charlie sighs and digs around in his
pocket. He produces a small key.

‘When your
parents died, we didn’t know what to do with the house. They just had so much
stuff, Angeline kept everything she came across, that it just didn’t feel right
to throw it out. We’ve been meaning to clear it out for years, sell the house
on but we just couldn’t. Mum has a hard time letting things go, she likes to
keep everything in its place, so the house has just remained untouched.’

That
explains the study I came across. Everything in its place but never used.

I glance
at the key nervously.

‘As far as
I’m concerned, this is yours,’ Charlie says, placing the key in my palm along
with a tiny piece of paper I hadn’t noticed him retrieving. ‘I understand if
you just want to put it away and never talk about your parents again, but if
you ever want to learn any more, just ask. The address is on the piece of
paper.’

Charlie
kisses the top of my head and leaves the room, shutting the door silently
behind him.

I look
from the door back to the key again.

In my hand,
I hold the key to my old home.

My palm
feels heavier than usual, the tiny key in the middle of it weighing it down.
Sighing, I turn it over and over again, my thoughts following a similar
process.

In my palm
I hold the key to my past, everything I have kept behind closed doors for
fourteen years. Every little secret, every little piece of my parents and maybe
even a part of myself sits just gathering dust, almost as if waiting for me to
come and open this book that is my life.

But one
little thought keeps regenerating itself in my mind.
What if I don’t like what I find?

Charlie
has grown up with a woman like his mum and still found it in his heart to
accept her, what if Charlie has been exaggerating about my parents and they
were actually as snobby as my grandmother?

What if my
parents aren’t what I hope they are? What if I find something that will shake
my little world once again?

What does
my house look like? Is it on a fancy estate like my grandmother’s or is it a
tiny house like Charlie’s? Is it full to the brim of personal items or
smothered with pointless decorative pieces?

I groan
out loud and rub my temples. Why is something like this so difficult to decide?
I have two choices; either put the key away or visit my old home. It should be
simple.

Someone
drops beside me and I shouldn’t be so surprised to find who I do. I almost
laugh, but instead I lean a head on his shoulder.

‘Charlie
called, told me what happened,’ Jay says, his voice edged with something hard.
‘She had no right to say those things, I don’t care if she’s the frickin’ Queen
of Tweed.’

This time
I do laugh out loud, I have complained a number of times about my grandmother’s
love for tweed suits.

‘Wait,
Charlie actually called you up?’ I ask in surprise. Jay winks.

‘I guess
the charm worked and I’ve finally been accepted into the Willow household, huh?
But yeah, he called. I figured this is where you’d be.’

I smirk.
I’m sitting on mine and Alex’s hill again, overlooking the small town I have
grown up in. Darkness has long since fallen but I’m warm enough in a thick
hoodie and coat.

The photo
frame I have taken from my grandmother is lying on the grass beside me, and Jay
picks it up to take a closer look.

‘Are these
them?’ He asks with intrigue.

‘Yeah, my
parents,’ I smile softly, the words feeling odd on my tongue.

My parents
.

‘Your mum
is beautiful. You look so much like them,’ he comments. I nod, still fidgeting
with the key. ‘Are you going to go?’ Jay asks quietly, his eyes landing on the
shiny object.

I pause.
Am I going to go?

It’s funny
how the same question can be repeated over and over again, with the only answer
ever being silence.

I purse my
lips, trying to put my thoughts into something that makes sense.

‘
21 Roselyn Avenue
,’ I recite from the
piece of paper Charlie had given me. ‘It doesn’t sound threatening does it? But
I’m scared, Jay. I’ve spent my whole life dancing on the edge of darkness; what
if visiting here pushes me straight into the pit?’ I sigh. Then I blink. I have
never told anyone what was really on my mind so easily before.

Jay takes
my hand and squeezes it.

‘I get
that you’re scared, but what if this is a good thing? If you don’t do this, you
could end up regretting it for the rest of your life,’ Jay reasons, his voice
soft.

‘But I’ve
kept all that at bay my whole life and that’s worked just fine!’ I protest,
feeling completely lost.

Jay pauses
for a moment before tapping on the glass of the photo.

‘But
you’ve never had this before,’ he points out calmly, handing me back the frame.
‘You’ve never been this close before, right?’

Sighing, I
nod in agreement.

‘Look, no
one is saying you have to make a decision right now. Maybe not even for a long
time yet, just don’t dismiss it, that’s all I’m asking.’

Again, I
nod, hugging the photo to me although I keep my gaze looking across the small
town rather than at Jay.

Then he
stands up, holding a hand out to me.

‘Come on,
we’re going back to mine. It’s freezing up here, you don’t half pick the most
difficult places to find don’t you?’ he chuckles. I smirk.

‘I have
here and the coffee shop, I think even you can find your way around a coffee
shop, Jay.’

‘Again
with the compliments,’ Jay mutters, rolling his eyes, although a familiar grin
sets into his lips. I shove the key into my pocket and let him help me up, the
frame still with me.

We stumble
down the hill again until Jay’s Ford comes into view and we set off back to the
Ellsworth’s. I spend so much time at the Ellsworth’s that just stepping through
their front door feels warm and comfortable, the familiar motion giving me a
firm sense of belonging.

The calming
sensation is soon wrecked though, as Blake’s voice comes from the living room.

‘You told
me the party was next Saturday,’ he groans loudly, although he spares us time
to nod his head in acknowledgement as we enter. ‘No, definitely next Saturday…
Of course I’m going, I’m just not happy about it- yes Dixie, you can borrow the
car…’ he finishes dryly before laughing and hanging up. Then he turns to Jay.
‘Dude, I’ve got a problem.’

Jay puts
his hands up.

‘We’ve
been through this before, there are pills for it if you’re having problems in
that department.’

Blake
narrows his eyes.

‘You’re a
dick.’

‘At least
I have one.’

‘Dude,
that makes your first comment completely void, asshole.’

Jay
shrugs, jumping onto the sofa and spreading himself out happily. ‘Regardless,
you’re still the one trying to compensate for something.’

Blake
stares at him for a moment before shaking his head. ‘That makes no sense.
Anyway, Charity’s Nineteenth is Saturday. Charity thinks I have a girlfriend,
when actually I don’t.’

‘So
really, this has a little bit to do with
that
department,’ Jay smirks. Blake just sighs and turns back to me, but I already
know what he’s about to ask.

‘No,’ I
say immediately, shaking my head. ‘That was a one time thing. Is that what the
argument over the party was about? You need more time to figure out how not to
come across as the pathetic guy you are.’

‘Bingo,’
Blake grins, winking. ‘Don’t give me that look, I know you worship me. If you
don’t want to come, I guess I could always just kill you off,’ he muses.

‘Kill me
off?’ I gasp, appalled. ‘Firstly, I’m too good to kill off. Secondly, what
happens when she runs into me randomly in the street when I’m supposed to be
dead? Can’t you just say I broke up with you or something? Better yet, why
don’t you just not go?’

‘Firstly,
you can’t break up with me, I have to break up with you. Secondly, if she finds
out I’ve just broken up with you she’ll be all over me like one of those
colossal squids,’ Blake cringes.

‘Plus, he
can’t not go. That’ll look like he’s avoiding her and will ruin his social
status, revealing him to be the sad little boy he is,’ Jay chimes. Blake gives
him a withered look. ‘I’ve got your back, man.’

‘You’re
both idiots,’ I laugh, still standing.

‘Please,
Neve? It’ll be fun. You can’t deny you didn’t enjoy playing at being my
girlfriend a tiny bit on Christmas,’ Blake winks, flashing that charming smile
of his. That same smile that makes my stomach do flips.

‘I don’t
have anything to wear,’ I protest, sinking into the opposite sofa and knowing
that I’m falling into an argument I can’t win.

‘Just wear
a dress or something fancy,’ Blake shrugs.

‘I don’t
own a dress,’ I point out. Blake’s eyes widen in confusion.

‘But
you’re a girl!’

‘That’s
what I said!’ Jay shouts in agreement and the two boys share a look.

‘That’s
it, I’m out,’ I announce, picking myself up and trying to escape from the
lounge but Blake grabs my shoulders and keeps me rooted to the spot.

‘I’ll be
good,’ he reasons. ‘Don’t make me get on my knees and beg.’

‘Now that
I would like to see,’ Jay laughs. Blake ignores him.

‘Let me
get this straight, you want me to be your girlfriend for the second time in
order to stop your ex wanting to get back with you instead of doing the smart
and honourable thing and just telling her that you don’t want to get back
together with her?’ I raise an eyebrow.

‘Yes,’
Blake answers without hesitation. I sigh.

‘You owe
me majorly, Ellsworth.’

‘I knew
you’d cave eventually,’ Blake smirks. ‘Admit it; you did enjoy yourself last
time.’

‘Over my dead
body,’ I reply, sticking my tongue out at him. He just grins knowingly and
flicks on the TV.

I just
shake my head and draw my knees up to hug them, mainly so that neither of the
boys can see my red cheeks.