Lies Like Love (12 page)

Leo was thinking about Audrey a lot; when he should have been doing other things, mostly. Like taking notes in English, or listening to the teacher at least. He rested his head on his hand and remembered her, lit up. Her eyes staring at him wide and dark, a shifting smudge of grey, green. And her mouth. Soft. Ridiculously soft. All half-term he’d imagined her with him and that they were hopping on and off London buses together, peering into cases holding ancient artefacts, staring at dinosaurs, skulls, sarcophagi. He could feel how excited she’d be about everything. As if it were all brand new. And now she wasn’t at school.

‘Anyone tell me what a paradox is? Hmm?’ The teacher prowled past his desk. Turned on his heel; prowled back the other way.

No one answered his question. Of course. Leo looked round the room; by all accounts they were mostly asleep.

It was a mistake to have raised his head. Mr Bruce pounced.

‘So, Leo. Perhaps you can enlighten us. You seem to be a mine of technical information.’ For some reason his prior knowledge of this subject irritated Mr Bruce. He was pretty sure he’d heard him sneering about posh kids waltzing around with their silver spoons dangling from
their mouths. Leo could have set him straight but he had stored up the story for Sue and they’d laughed about it instead.

‘Sure, I know.’

‘Would you like to share your interpretation with the class?’

‘If you really want.’

‘I do. Go ahead.’

‘A paradox is a strange contradiction,’ he said, staring out of the window, ‘like the fact that we’re supposedly free to leave here –’ he looked back at the teacher for a second, then gestured at the classroom – ‘any time we choose, but in reality if we did, then the shit would hit the fan. So we are both free and not free at the same time. That’s a paradox. Something that’s true and false. At the same time.’

The teacher smiled. That was a first. At least he’d made one person happy today.

‘An interesting definition, Leo, thank you. I’ll remind you of what Jean-Jacques Rousseau said, perhaps only a little more eloquently than you: “Man is born free, but everywhere is in chains.” You’d agree, I suppose?’

‘Yeah, maybe. But Rousseau was a bastard. Dumped his kids. Apparently philosophy was more important than fatherhood. So I wouldn’t necessarily agree with anything he said.’

Leo switched off again after that. He’d studied
Macbeth
too many times to care about equivocation and the supernatural and paradoxes.

The bell rang and he walked fast, forgetting to dawdle,
after spending a week with his mother. They’d charged in and out of museums like there was someone chasing them. It seemed the faster you went, the more you’d know, or something like that. And Mum rabbiting on and on about his future, the bloody UCAS form he still hadn’t completed nagging at his conscience. Leo was considering running away. Building a boat and sailing round the world. Maybe Audrey would come.

He was some way out to sea when he heard his name being shouted.

‘Leo, Leo!’ Voices in unison. Thudding feet behind him. He spun round. Peter barrelled into him, Audrey was a bit behind, but hurrying, her hair streaming out behind her like the girl in the painting in the Tate he’d stared at last week, thinking he recognized her. Not realizing, until now, how that could be.

‘Can we come with you?’ Peter said, charging past as Leo paused. ‘I want to play football.’

‘You’re on.’

Leo grabbed Audrey’s hand, didn’t listen to her squealing, ‘Stop,’ but he caught her laughter like a bird in his heart and dragged her along the path; he could have sworn right then there was a chance they might fly.

At Sue’s we stuffed ourselves, raiding the cupboards for snacks, then lay on the worn rugs in the living room as the light began to fade. Leo crouched beside a record player and began flicking through a pile of albums. Peter and I knew what albums were because once we’d had a huge collection spanning decades: they’d belonged to my dad, Mum said, but he’d left them behind when he’d buggered off. The Beatles, the Velvet Underground, Lou Reed, mixed up with my mum’s Elton John, Tom Jones and Cher. Dad’s prized possessions were the Rolling Stones LPs, first editions which he’d trawled auctions to find. Mum had flogged them at a car boot before we moved. She’d said it was about time; I hadn’t been able to watch and had walked off with Peter and left her to it. Now I sat beside Leo and looked with him.

‘Oh, my God. We had these.’ I turned over the copy of
Loaded
, the names of the songs smiling at me like old friends.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ I remembered dancing. Swinging high off my feet, then staggering, dizzy, hands clutching fistfuls of carpet as I sank to the floor, Dad lifting me up, laughing. A kiss on the top of my head.

Leo laughed. ‘Pick a record. Anything.’ He sat back and let me get on with it.

It was a hard choice; I could have spent all day just rummaging.

‘OK. I’ll take this.’ I handed over
Please Please Me
. ‘I feel like dancing,’ I said, then bit my lip.
Seriously, Aud. Seriously? You’re going to dance? In the middle of the day? In front of Leo
?

‘Cool.’ He unsheathed the black disc, holding it at the edges, balanced between fingertips. ‘These records belonged to Sue’s husband. She lets me play them. Thinks maybe he’ll hear, wherever he is.’

‘Why? What happened to him?’

‘He disappeared; just walked out over the fields one day and never came back. Sue reckons he stepped in the sinking sand, you know, a few miles down, along the embankment. It was early; no one would have been around or seen it happen, heard him call.’

‘Sinking sand? You’re kidding?’ I shivered. Imagine it: trying to save yourself, grabbing at handfuls of dissolving earth, mud filling your mouth, your eyes, swallowing you up. My breath quickened; my blood thumped.

‘Yes, sorry. Not a very jolly tale.’ Leo bit his lip; he looked guilty for some reason.

‘No.’ I shook myself. ‘It’s my worst nightmare, that’s all. Drowning, like that. Like anything. Getting buried alive.’ I rubbed my ankle; it was hurting again after the walk, but I stood up, pushing the pain away. ‘Let’s not talk about it.’

He dropped the record on the turntable, pressed a
button, the speakers crackled and the music began. ‘Love Me Do’. Shit, that was embarrassing.

‘Pete,’ I called, ‘Peter, come and dance.’

Peter ran in, stuffing in the last of his jam sandwich, Mary chasing behind. I took Peter’s hands, like Dad had once taken mine, and spun him until he was squealing and I was dizzy. When I let go we stumbled into a heap. The next song was slow. Leo picked up the needle and dropped it on the last track.

‘ “Twist and Shout”. You’ll have to get up again now, Audrey. No excuses.’

‘All right. Bet I can twist better than you.’

‘We’ll see.’

Jumping up, John Lennon’s raucous voice egging me on, we stamped and twisted and shouted and roared, competing for who could hold the top notes longest, who could scream hardest. Peter put his hands over his ears and I was laughing and singing at the same time, Leo too. Leo could move. He wasn’t embarrassed; he didn’t care, so nor did I. The dog jumped and barked, up on hind legs now and then; that made me laugh too. When the record ended, the room faded into silence and we stood there, staring at each other, out of breath, still smiling.

‘It’s a long time since I did that,’ Leo said. ‘Why did I forget?’

‘Me too. I think we should do it every day.’

‘For sure.’

‘Not me,’ said Peter, running off again. ‘I’m going outside.’

He belted off, Mary at his side.

‘My choice now.’

Leo picked up the Velvet Underground record I’d been looking at and as the music played more memories flooded back: a little sitting room, Dad lying on a sofa, feet up, smoking a roll-up, flicking through a magazine, the windows open, curtains flying in the breeze, and me, dancing my dolly round the furniture. Leo held out a hand, I took it; he pulled me close and began to waltz. I followed where he led.

‘What is it? Glockenspiel?’ I listened, head on his shoulder.

‘No, celesta; similar sound though,’ he murmured.

‘Wow. I never heard of that before,’ I said, as Lou Reed breathed out the words to ‘Sunday Morning’, Nico singing all weird behind him. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Audrey, I have to warn you – I know a lot of pointless and random information. I apologize in advance.’

We glided across the rug; he tipped me back and pulled me straight, my hair streaming like a sail.

‘It’s not pointless. It’s good.’

Leo shrugged and spun me.

‘Can you play?’ I asked.

Pulling me in, closer, he ignored the question.

‘Course he can, Audrey. He just won’t.’ I jumped; there was Sue, popping her head round the door and smiling. How much had she heard? And seen?

‘Thank you, aunt.’ Leo waved her away.

‘Pleasure, dear,’ she said, disappearing again.

‘Why don’t you play?’ I asked Leo when he pulled me back. His chin rested on my head.

‘Because my mother forced me to play the piano for years when I was a kid. I hated it. I hate it still. It was a form of torture, actually.’ He waggled the fingers of one hand. ‘Surprised I have any hands left. There was hours of it.’

‘My mum never made me do anything like that. I would have liked lessons though; maybe piano. Or the trumpet.’ It must be weird to have a mother who thought you could do stuff – no, believed you could. Expected it.

‘Piano was just the start. The Mandarin Chinese and all the tennis and the fucking violin.’ Bitterness dripped off him. It was the first time his mouth had looked ugly. But it was because it hurt; I got that. The track ended and Leo let me go. He stretched. Then he smiled, walking over to the bookshelves, pacing back. I threw myself on to the sofa, curling up to listen.

‘Sorry, saw her last week. She was just the same.’

‘The same how?’ I caught his eye.

‘She’s spent her life wanting me to be something I’m not. Some hideous little genius kid.’ He laughed, embarrassed. ‘I’m afraid I’m a bit of a disappointment.’

‘No way.’

‘Oh, yes. But don’t worry. I’m perfectly happy with that.’

‘So, is that why you don’t live with them? Because you don’t get on with your mum?’

‘Not exactly. Don’t get on –’ he mulled over the words – ‘that isn’t it really.’ He scanned the room, stared out of the window for a minute, then looked back at me. ‘This sounds awful. Don’t get me wrong, Mum’s actually
great – clever and sharp and funny. You’d like her, I think.’ I nodded because I knew how this felt and Leo’s face was anxious, he was trying to find the words, and rubbed his face with his palms. ‘But, I don’t know, when I’m with her it’s like we’re playing this hideous game of ping-pong; she just keeps hitting those little balls as hard and fast as she can and every time I return one she whacks it back, double the speed. Eventually she catches me out. Every time.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘But Sue doesn’t care about exams, or extra-curricular or anything; she just wants me to be happy. It was my dad’s idea for me to live here. After I had this breakdown. I suspect he was embarrassed.’

‘Yeah?’ I pressed my chin into my knees. Leo had had a breakdown. I’d never have thought it; I’d never have guessed. I blinked slowly, letting it sink in before I looked at him. I tried to make my face show what I felt. That it didn’t matter and that I got it. I got him. He sat down next to me.

‘It was a couple of years ago now, Aud. I freaked out, I guess; too much pressure. I couldn’t take it. But, hey –’ he touched my hand briefly – ‘don’t look like that. I’m fine now. Totally sorted.’ I thought he was sad, but then he grinned. I had to smile back. And I felt like telling some secrets of my own.

‘Mum told this new therapist that she can’t cope with me any more and that she wants to send me away, but I don’t believe her.’

‘Why would she say it, then?’

‘I dunno. Maybe she thinks she’ll scare me into being good.’ I shrugged again, and tried to look like it didn’t
matter, but it hurt. Mum saying she didn’t want me. I’d hurt her, not helped myself, and she’d had enough.

‘Are you bad?’

I laughed again. It was stupid to laugh.

‘I have no idea. I don’t try to be. I’m just me. Maybe that’s the problem; she just doesn’t like me.’ Coughing up bits of truth here, like pebbles, shiny and hard, spitting them at Leo’s feet like the bottom of the sea was in my lungs. All those secrets. The doors in my mind creaked and swung. I slammed each one shut, dropped my head for a moment, dizzy. I could never tell him everything; he’d hate me if he knew.

‘I don’t know how that could be.’ His voice was soft and sorry and my blood rose, staining my face. I put my palms to my cheeks, hiding.

Leo reached out and put his arm round me.

‘Don’t worry.’

‘I’m not. I’m sorry; I’m fine.’ I looked up. ‘It’s just sometimes, you know, sometimes I hate her.’

‘What?’

‘Sometimes I hate my mum.’ I swallowed. Even saying it hurt. And it wasn’t true, really, was it? I screwed my fists tight. Leo was about to say something but I stopped him, putting my finger on his lips.

Make a move, Leo. Come on, this is pathetic
, he thought. But it had all got too intense, like some impromptu therapy session. Not that he didn’t want to help Audrey and be there for her, of course he did. What she was going through was horrible. But she didn’t need to hear his mess too; he hadn’t invited her back for that. There had been other reasons. Very different reasons. The problem was she was too easy to talk to – so still and gentle and intent; like every word he said sank deep, like she really gave a damn.

Audrey dropped her finger from his lips, jumped up and headed for the door, grabbing her stuff, saying something about Peter and getting their dinner.

‘No, hang on.’ Leo chased after her, crossing the room before she could disappear. He held her arm, gently though.

‘Don’t go yet, Aud.’

‘I have to,’ she said, turning and smiling.

‘No, wait.’ His arms were round her. It was that easy. He pushed the door shut with his foot. The room dimmed, twilight was creeping in, and in the shadows her eyes looked darker and deeper than ever, like he could drown there. Her hair glowed, moonlight.

‘You can’t go. Not yet,’ Leo said.

‘I can.’ She laughed, twisting a little. He held her, not so tight, nearly letting go.

‘Well, all right, you can. If you want. But I wanted to say –’

‘Yeah?’ she appeared to be teasing him. He caught her eye and produced his best serious look.

‘I really missed you. At half-term. I kept thinking about how I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to call.’ He took a deep breath. For God’s sake, they’d kissed. Now this? It was ridiculous. He should just go for it. ‘Will you give me your number?’

‘Course. Well, the home number. I don’t have a mobile.’

‘Bugger.’

‘Why bugger?’

‘I wanted to text you. All night. Drive you crazy with evidence of my devotion.’

Devotion. That was a big word. That word meant things.
So what, Leo
, he thought,
you mean it, don’t you? You wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it
.

‘Sure. You’ll have to send a pigeon though,’ Audrey said.

‘Right. It’s a plan.’

‘Cool. So, can I go now?’ She put her head on one side, half smiling. Leo was never sure.

‘No. One more thing.’

The room fell quiet. Their bodies touched, close again, she pulled back, then moved forward, near, her fingers tangling with his. If this were the rest of his life, he’d be happy, he thought. Leo kissed her. That definitely wasn’t enough. He kissed Audrey again, for longer this time, and
she kissed back, her hands round his neck, her body very close. He put his hands in her hair and closed his eyes.
Eternity was in our lips and eyes
, he thought,
bliss in our brows bent
.

‘Heeeelp! Audrey, Aud, heeelp.’ The hollers broke the spell and Audrey pulled away from him.

‘It’s Pete,’ she said, and Leo followed her out of the house and into the garden, where Peter was waiting, high up in a tree, pretending not to be stuck now they were near. Leo climbed up, swift and sure, helped him to find his footing and climb back down and to pick out a splinter. Then he touched Audrey’s arm one last time before she set out for home.

‘Here, take my jacket,’ he said, ‘you’ll freeze otherwise.’ She nodded and smiled like that was sealing a pact, and off they went: one tall, one small, their figures melting into the dusk. Leo hoped she could hear him calling goodbye and he watched them until they disappeared.