Lies Like Love (11 page)

Audrey ran. She kissed him and she ran, and Leo caught a glimpse of her face, full of joy and fear and horror, before she shot away and he got up to follow, still a little dizzy and shocked. He could hear Lorraine from twenty paces, her voice twanging like a guitar string, out of tune.

‘What’ve you been doing? Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking all over,’ Lorraine was complaining when Leo caught up with them, standing right outside the barn. She might have seen them. Well, so what? He wasn’t ashamed. But Audrey’s expression was hidden in the dark and Lorraine stood between them; of course, he could just push past her, grab Aud’s hand and drag her away. Kiss her like that again. All night. Apparently he had missed kissing. Not that he hadn’t had the chance, but it wasn’t something he took lightly. There had been Jecca, of course, but her mind had floated off, far away. Like he’d not been doing it quite right. And he preferred not to count Lizzy. With Audrey something had locked into place.

‘Nowhere; I was just around,’ Audrey said, and he saw Lorraine give her a look, before she turned and eyed Leo, staring him down. What was this?

‘Your brother missed you,’ Lorraine said, still watching Leo, and Audrey swung round to search.

‘Sorry; where is he?’ They scanned the drive and Leo spotted Peter with Sue, waving another sparkler.

‘He’s OK,’ Leo said. ‘Look, over there.’ Lorraine followed the line of his finger. She grabbed Audrey’s shoulder and gave her a little push.

‘Right, well, he needs the loo, Aud – go and take him.’

Audrey ran off and Leo was about to follow when he felt Lorraine’s hand on his arm. He stepped away without meaning to.

‘Leo,’ Lorraine said, but his eyes followed Audrey. ‘Leo?’ she repeated, saying his name like they were close, leaning in like she wanted him to look at her full in the face. Her eyes found his but he looked away again, searching for something to say.

‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘Yes,’ Lorraine said, sticking by him as they walked towards the makeshift bar, chattering, asking questions about his parents, about his past. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t sidestep Lorraine’s attention. And Audrey had disappeared.

‘Come on, Leo,’ Lorraine said. ‘Let’s go down the field, warm up by the fire. It’s a good one. You built it, didn’t you, you and Sue? She says you’re a good lad.’ Lorraine was smiling at him. ‘I could do with someone to help me, Leo, a bloke around. But I’ve no luck with men. My husband was a waste of space; he dumped us years ago. He couldn’t cope with Aud being sick all the time. And what with Aud’s problems, well, I don’t have time for a life of my own.’

Leo didn’t like the fact that Lorraine linked her arm through his or that she stumbled against him as they walked. When Lorraine laughed her breath was on his face, in his face, intruding.

‘You’re a good-looking lad, Leo,’ she said, examining him too close, and he gave a short laugh, surprised.

‘Thanks.’ There wasn’t much else he could say to that.

‘No wonder my Audrey fancies you,’ she confided.

Leo had no answer now. No idea what he was supposed to say under these circumstances.

‘But she’s a little girl, Leo; she’s not ready for boys. I mean, if she even started her periods, that’d be a nightmare for her.’ Her tone was low and confiding, as if inviting him to commiserate, comfort, share. No.

He released himself. Lorraine’s breathing was heavy, too close, like the lurch of her body. The oily sheen on her forehead and nose. Lipstick like a second skin, thick; her tongue running over it, fast, sticky. Leo didn’t like this, not any of it.

‘Don’t take this the wrong way or anything,’ Lorraine continued, ‘but, well, I think you should go for someone more mature.’ Leo coughed. This couldn’t be weirder. Maybe someone had spiked his drink and he was taking a crazy trip. He looked everywhere, at the sky, the night, the other faces. Not at Audrey’s mother. Her
mother
.

‘Well?’ she said. Clearly she expected an answer.

‘Sorry? What?’

‘How about we go for a drink, the two of us? Talk about things. About Audrey. Whatever you like. There’s a nice bar I know. I get lonely, Leo. I need to get out. Have
a bit of fun. I moved for the kids, to give them a better life. But sometimes you have to think about yourself too. I mean, they’re not going to be happy if I’m miserable, are they?’

He shook his head. This was the weirdest conversation he’d ever had. If he understood right, then Audrey’s mother was coming on to him. Which was revolting. Which was, in fact, beyond foul. But she also wanted his pity, like she was trying to guilt-trip him into agreeing to this date. He plunged his hands into his pockets. Cleared his throat.

Lorraine was still waiting for an answer. He couldn’t look at her. A rocket boomed and split the sky.

‘I’m going to help with the fireworks,’ he said, and turned and raced away.

Mum was waiting outside when I came out with Peter. We’d spent a while in the house with Mary, who was hiding from the fireworks. Peter liked to pet her and I was trying to get my head round what I’d done. I’d kissed him. What now?

‘Don’t disappear again. Right?’ Mum said. She was hot-cheeked, her breath sweet but acid. She put her arm round me, but I pulled back.

‘Yeah.’ I wriggled away. ‘All right.’

‘It’s getting late.’

‘Do we have to go?’

‘I’ll give you another half hour. This is a good do, isn’t it?’ she said, as Sue joined us and they clinked glasses. ‘We had bonfire parties, didn’t we, Aud?’

‘Did we?’ I said, searching my memory for when. My brain was like a sieve – that was the medication, Mum said, and she must have been right.

‘So. What’s going on, then?’ Mum whispered, a little later, and I nudged her.

‘Shhh. He’ll hear you.’ Leo was chatting to a group of Sue’s friends. His cheeks were pink, his eyes like coals.

‘So what? He’s a bit of a dish, isn’t he, Aud?’

‘Mum!’

‘Oh, come on. Just tell me. You know what, I reckon I
wouldn’t mind. He’s like that Harry Styles, only posher and a bit more foreign-looking. My type, I reckon.’

‘Mum, don’t be disgusting. He’s nice. A friend. That’s it.’

‘I’m sure.’ She slurped at her glass, drained it. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday, Aud. I know what girls are like. And boys. At your age it’s all you think of.’

Another firework launched. Crackled and sang. Red. Amber. Green. Mum clapped, we oohed and ahhed. I looked around for Leo but he’d gone, and I wondered if it had really happened, that I’d kissed him and he hadn’t minded. He’d kissed me back. My face flashed like the sky.

In the morning Mum shouted that her head was banging.
She shouldn’t have got so pissed, should she
? I thought, but I took her plenty of water and a couple of paracetamol, tea and toast.

‘I’m sorry, love,’ she said, looking up, her face sore, smeary with the make-up she hadn’t cleaned off. ‘I’d had a bad week. Then too much to drink, trying to take the edge off. It never ends well.’ She groaned, then sat up and took the mug, sipped and winced.

‘Never mind, Mum. Doesn’t matter.’

‘You looked like you were having fun though.’ She put her mug down and took a bite of toast, crumbs flying.

‘Yeah. Course.’

Mum looked at me and I thought she saw something good, because she smiled, before speaking through a mouthful of bread, her voice just as thick and stodgy. ‘Well, just make sure you watch yourself. I like Sue; she’s a
nice woman. But that nephew. I don’t know.’ She was watching me, chewing. Her eyes were red, piggy.

‘Why?’

‘I’ve just got this bad feeling about him. He’s up himself. Thinks he knows it all.’

‘He isn’t.’

Once Mum turned against someone, that was it – they’d had it. ‘He’s a snob,’ she said. ‘I saw how he was looking at me. How you were both looking at me.’

I turned from her, wanting to get away.

‘Come here; come and sit with me.’ Mum patted the bedcovers and I sat beside her. As she sipped her tea she changed the subject, back to her shifts the week before. The little girl she’d been looking after. She was only eight.

‘Remember when you were eight, Aud? You were in hospital all that summer. And then you got that infection. What a mess that was. And last night I just couldn’t get it out of my head, how bad it had been, and how it had felt when you’d been the one lying there, so sick. So that’s why I reckon I overdid things last night. Silly, I know.’

I tried to believe her. I tried to feel sorry.

‘She’s such a pretty little thing. Annabel, she’s called. Lovely name. Looks a bit like you.’ Mum’s fingers ran through my hair, twisting strands, tying knots. I jerked my head away and flattened my hair with my hand.

‘Don’t think about it, Mum. Try not to dwell on it. I’m fine now. Maybe Annabel will be fine.’

‘But you’re not fine, are you? And nor’s she, and no amount of wishing things were otherwise helps. It’s a nightmare. That poor mother.’ She sat closer, making me
hot. ‘I went over and I just held her. She was crying like it’d break your heart. Almost broke mine. I’m not cut out for this job any more, Aud. Can’t take it. I suppose that’s why I got a bit tiddly.’

‘It doesn’t matter; forget it.’

Mum kissed the top of my head, then reached for the remote. ‘I’m going to watch some TV. You go and sort out the washing for me, Aud. Clean up a bit. And no more holding hands with boys. You didn’t think I didn’t see, did you?’ She winked. Took a bite of her sandwich, attention drifting to the programme.

‘Whatever,’ I said, wondering if I should go over to see Leo and explain.

I went downstairs and lined up my pills on the worktop. The one to stop me feeling depressed. The one to stop me feeling sick. The one to stop me sleeping all day. The one to stop me cutting rivers in my arms and legs and thighs. There was a pill for everything. Everything except a pill to be free.

Audrey’s kiss had been a shock. Leo hadn’t been sure that she really liked him that much at all. He’d thought that if any moves were going to be made, then he’d be the one to make them, and the fact that Audrey had beaten him to it made him laugh. He’d call her later, he thought, and say something. About how he was glad. About how it felt, how
he
felt. He screwed up his face, thinking, and stared at the phone. Damn. He didn’t have her number. It didn’t matter; they were back to school the next day and he’d see her then, but in the meantime he could maybe run past the Grange, just to see if she was there.

‘What’s made you so sprightly?’ Sue said as they cleared up the debris of the night before.

‘Nothing.’

‘You enjoyed yourself last night, then?’

‘Sure.’

Sue smirked.

‘What?’ Leo laughed, facing her with wide, innocent eyes. ‘What?’

‘Oh, nothing. Nothing at all,’ she answered, leaving him to it, whistling as she walked back into the house.

But later when he passed the Grange all was quiet, eerily still. He paused, his breath clouding in the chill November air. From now on he was going to do more to
help, Leo decided. And if Lizzy Carr started up anything else he’d be straight in there. It was a mission. He jogged away, throwing glances back over his shoulder, but nothing stirred.

Leo found me at break on Monday when he strode into the classroom and grabbed my hand. Someone whistled and I saw Lizzy’s face out of the corner of my eye before he pulled me out into the corridor. At first we just grinned at each other.

‘Leo –’

‘Audrey –’

Our voices overlapped and I blushed and looked down at the floor, then back up into his eyes. I could just kiss him again; that had worked before. But this was school. And I couldn’t make a habit of it, of kissing people the second they showed me the slightest bit of attention.

‘I missed you,’ he said, and that made me shout out a laugh.

‘I only saw you on Saturday,’ I said.

‘Ages ago. And I don’t have your number. Why don’t I have your number?’

I shrugged, still smiling. He frowned, tangled both hands in mine.

‘So, after school? Come over?’

‘I’ll try,’ I said, and he nodded and held my hand for a second before the bell made us both jump and he let go and walked away.

At the end of the day Mum was waiting in the car
outside the gates and I didn’t even get the chance to tell Leo that our plans would have to wait.

‘Come on,’ she yelled. ‘I’m over here, Aud.’ The kids milling around outside the school turned and stared. Peter was already in the back, tapping the edge of his stone against the window. Mum reached in and snatched it out of his hand.

‘What’s going on? What’s happened?’

‘No panic. Just your appointment,’ she said. ‘Don’t tell me you forgot?’

‘Oh.’ I started to breathe again. ‘I thought that was next week.’

‘I brought it forward. Lucky I phoned; they had a space. I managed to persuade the secretary.’

‘Mum.’ It came out in that whiny voice little kids use.

‘What’s the problem? You don’t have somewhere else you need to be, do you?’ She raised what was left of her eyebrows. She’d picked them red raw.

‘No. Obviously not. Because I don’t get to have a life, do I?’

‘Watch your mouth, young lady.’

The rest of the drive she didn’t speak. The air in the car grew thick and hot and I wound down the window to lean away from the smell.

At the hospital we waited ages; you always do. Then we went in, leaving Peter in the waiting room, sitting there playing with the box of toys meant for much littler kids.

‘You’ll watch him for me, won’t you?’ Mum said to the woman on reception, who nodded and smiled.

‘Audrey. Mrs Morgan?’ The bloke was in a pinstripe
suit. Clean shaven. He didn’t look like any of the other shrinks I’d seen.

‘Yes, that’s us,’ Mum said, holding her bag in front of her like a shield, her eyes narrow and assessing.

‘I’m Harry Wakeman. Take a seat.’

Mum sat, raised an eyebrow, looked at him – her dead-eye stare. It made no impression. Harry Wakeman just smiled and rubbed his hands together before placing them flat on his thighs and leaning in.

‘So, Doctor Caldwell has referred Audrey to me. She suggests that Audrey’s dealing with a number of issues. I’d like to talk a little about them, if that’s all right; try and work out where we are as things stand today.’

‘I can tell you straight off,’ Mum began. He held up his hand.

‘Bear with me, Mrs Morgan, I’ll come to you in a moment. Audrey – how are you doing?’ He had this matey voice, like we could be pals. I hated this sort. I didn’t need a friend; I needed a life.

‘Fine.’ I folded my arms, crossed my legs.

‘Fine, Aud?’ said Mum, huffing, rearranging herself on the chair.

I nodded. She sighed.

‘I’m afraid, that’s not the case. I wish it were.’ She began to tick off my problems on her fingers: ‘Depression. Self-harm. She’s not sleeping, paranoid, refuses to go in her bedroom – says there’s something in there, for God’s sake, something that’s going to get her.’ That meant Mum had read my diary. She wouldn’t know that otherwise. I stared at her, wanted to slap her. Hard. ‘So I’ve got her
sleeping on the sofa, taking up the living room every night. Her moods are up and down: one minute she’s delightful, the next minute moody and unpleasant and out of my control. And I’m not talking about your normal teen angst, here. I need help. And now.’

‘OK. Mrs Morgan. If you could take a minute to calm down. Let’s try and deal with things one step at a time.’

But Mum was seriously going for it, sitting up ramrod straight, shoulders tant.

‘Plus there’s sex. There’s this lad; she’s mad about him and I’m worried where this could lead.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I mean, she’s clearly vulnerable. And this boy’s older and could be out to take advantage. I’m on the verge of saying I’m not able to cope. I’m on the verge of saying I can’t have her at home any more.’

‘How does that make you feel, Audrey?’

I shrugged, kicked my feet on the floor, making the tiles squeal.

‘It must make you feel something, to hear your mother so evidently concerned. So upset.’

‘She won’t talk to you,’ Mum told him, and I zoned her out, began to hum quietly, then louder. Mum’s mouth was still moving but at least now I couldn’t hear, and I watched as she pulled up her sleeve, bared her arm to Harry, showing her bruises.

Harry said something to me. I didn’t hear what, so I just nodded again. Like those stupid dogs you see sitting on the back shelf in cars, heads bobbing up and down, fixed inane grin.

It went on like that for another twenty minutes. Mum saying things about me. Me not speaking. The therapist trying to get me to open up, as he put it. But there was no point telling him the truth. I wasn’t shy or a mean girl or insane. Not any of those things. Blocking them out, I wrapped my arms round my legs, dropped my head on my knees, humming then rocking. Backwards and forward; forward and back, a cradle for a baby. Whatever it took to get out of there, to shut them up.

When we got back in the car I couldn’t help a huge sigh. It was so much work, so hard not to feel. Not to care. Mum patted my knee, singing along to the radio as she drove.

‘Don’t worry, Aud,’ she said, turning to me for a second. ‘I’m here. You stay home with me tomorrow, love. Nice and safe.’

The next morning Mum dropped Peter off at school, then came back home to be with me. She sat talking for ages on the phone.

‘Your form tutor’s very understanding, Aud,’ she said when she finally hung up. ‘Nice lady. She says they’ll get some work home for you, that she’ll notify your teachers so you won’t fall behind.’

‘I reckon I’ll just go in.’ It was stupid to sit here when there was nothing wrong with me. And I actually wanted to go. Lizzy was nothing. I had Leo.

‘Don’t worry, love. I think you need the rest. Just take a day – you’ve been overdoing it; you look tired.’ Mum gave me a hug, passed me a glass of juice. ‘What can I get you? What d’you need?’

‘Nothing.’ I walked to the window and looked out.

Mum sat at the computer, reading her favourite websites, her horoscope, then mine, tutting, laughing, reading out little snippets about her favourite celebs and the royal family. I didn’t listen. I thought about Leo. Itched to get out of the house and find him, just to talk more. My head was full of him. Carrying Peter on his shoulders, holding my hand at the fair, finding me at school, his face pleased to see me, and how he always knew what to say. I thought about kissing him again.

‘I’ve been thinking of ways to keep you busy, Audrey, take your mind off your problems,’ Mum said, chewing on a bit of toast, gesturing towards me with the crust.

I didn’t answer that. She’d once tried to teach me to knit; apparently that would help me deal with things. I’d been useless, all fingers and thumbs. The same with cross stitch – I turned the silk thread into a tight ball of knots within minutes.

‘I thought you could set up a page.’ She typed ‘blogging’ into Google. ‘Look at all this. It’s all here, all the advice, how to get started. I was thinking you could do your own little page or something, just to keep yourself busy while you’re sitting at home.’

‘What would I blog about?’

‘You know, how you’re feeling and things. We could call it something like “A Prayer For Audrey”. What d’you think? There’d be a lot of people interested, you know; there’s a lot of kids out there like you.’

‘I dunno.’ I hated it. Really hated it. I didn’t want random people knowing about me. Staring at pictures. It was
like holding me up, saying,
Look, come and laugh at the weirdo
. Imagine Lizzy, if she found it. Imagine what she’d say.

‘Look,’ she said, loading a page. ‘Look at this girl here.’

I read through it. The page was all about a little kid’s battle with cancer; she was only thirteen, there were pictures of her in hospital and a long bucket list of things she wanted to do before she died.

‘Mum, I’m not terminally ill.’

‘Well, you are sick though. Very poorly. Audrey, mental illness is a serious condition. Sometimes I think you don’t realize.’ For a second I wondered if she’d rather I had cancer. Then at least she could make people feel sorry for me, for her. I would be a much better patient then.

‘I think it might be a bit OTT, Mum, that’s all. I just want to get better. Get back to normal. Things were going all right before.’

‘They weren’t, Aud. That’s just it. You’ve started cutting again; you’re not sleeping. You can’t pretend that you’re all right; you’ve got to face up to things and work a bit harder to get better. And if these doctors can’t sort you we’ll find some who will.’

I slumped into the chair.

‘Well, tell you what, let’s get it set up anyway. Then see how you feel.’

So Mum spent the morning doing that. I had to sit next to her and watch. Admire. Agree. Mum chose a colour scheme, designed it all pink and yellow, found some pictures of me that she said she’d scan in at work. They were old ones from when I was a baby.

‘Here you are, just out of hospital,’ she said staring.
‘Look, you’re so cute. Tiny though. My God, I thought I’d break you, just picking you up.’

‘All right, Mum.’ When she got like this it was hard to stop her. She’d be crying in a minute and I hated it when she cried. It made me itch, want to walk away and scratch my face to ribbons.

‘You were so precious. Just this little scrap of a thing. Your dad fell in love with you the second he saw you. He was always a right soppy bugger.’

‘My dad?’

‘Yeah.’ She never usually mentioned him. Never let me ask questions.

‘Do you know where he is now?’

‘No. Why would I?’

Why did he leave us
? I wanted to say.
Where did he go? Can we find him? I want to know him, Mum, please
.

She checked her watch.

‘And it’s time to get Peter. You go, Aud. Fetch something for tea too. I’m knackered with all this. Need a bit of lie down.’

She took a pill, one of the sleeping tablets a doctor back home had prescribed me, and took herself off to bed. Those pills worked. Like horse tranquillizers or something. She wouldn’t be up for hours now, which meant after I’d met Peter I could see if Leo was around after all.