Lies Like Love (15 page)

I was glad Leo hadn’t come up to my room. I hadn’t had time to deal with it and didn’t want him to see the mess. After he left I sat on the bed, slowly taking off my clothes. My mouth was hot and swollen, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

I took off my pants and stood up, naked, my body turning to goosebumps in the cold. My scars ran up my arms, my legs, up my thighs. Running a fingertip over the bright white ridges, I searched for words, a picture, maybe a map. Like ancient hieroglyphics, I tried to read the messages.

‘So,’ I whispered, waiting for the Thing, looking round, searching. ‘Here I am. And?’

I listened for the hammer in my head, the drumbeat in my veins. But there was no answer. Not now I was so brave.

‘I’m fine, you see,’ I said. ‘I’m growing up. Grown up. I don’t need to be afraid of you now. You’re not going to stop me doing stuff; you’re not going to make me ill, get me thinking I’m mad again. I’m not going to die out here,’ I said. ‘I won’t drown.’

Since I’d been seeing Harry, my arms had healed and I held them out in front of me.

‘See? I’m better. It won’t happen again. I can promise you that. You won’t get me again.’

I pulled on my nightie, got into bed and covered my ears. It wouldn’t wake me; it wouldn’t dare disturb my dreams. Not tonight.

Suddenly there were only a few days of term left and Leo wondered where all the time had gone. Christmas party invitations were delivered and class nights out were planned, but Leo wasn’t bothered unless Aud could come with him.

‘I can’t. You know what my mum’s like,’ she said, staring at the floor.

‘Overprotective?’ he hazarded, which was the least offensive thing he could think to say about Lorraine.

‘Yes.’ Audrey stared up at him and he couldn’t look away. ‘You go without me.’

‘No, I’ll give it a miss.’ They lingered in the corridor, ignoring the bell. Leo considered. ‘We should just take the afternoon off. There’s nothing happening here, just DVDs and quizzes. It’s a waste of time. Come on – let’s go.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘I am. Never more so. I want to be with you, Aud. Just us again, OK?’

She looked up at him and brushed her fringe out of her eyes.

‘Just us,’ she said, an echo, a spell.

They couldn’t stop laughing, lurching through the slush and the mud, trying to run down the embankment away from school and back to the farm. Audrey gripped Leo’s
hand and threw herself at the wind. He pulled her back to him and for a while they waltzed and he hummed ‘Twist and Shout’ as he turned and danced them home.

When they got back Leo made tea, passed Audrey a mug, and then carved big doorstep sandwiches from a fresh loaf and presented her with a plateful.

‘Last of the gooseberry chutney,’ he said, ‘just for you, Aud.’

‘Thanks.’ She nibbled a corner. Leo crouched in front of the fire, which had already been laid with kindling and logs and coal. It burst into flame when he touched it with a match.

‘Good,’ he said, grabbing his own plate and sitting opposite across the pine table. ‘Come on – eat up.’

She nibbled again as Leo tore through his.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’

‘Not really; sorry.’ Audrey pushed her plate away.

‘But we didn’t have any lunch. And we’ve been walking. I can make you something else?’

‘No, it’s all right. I just feel a bit sick, that’s all. The tea’s helping.’

‘Why d’you feel sick?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe my meds.’ Aud wouldn’t look at him. He hated that.

‘I thought you’d stopped taking them?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Why?’

‘I just can’t.’ Her voice rose, frustrated, and Leo leant back in his chair and raked his hands through his hair. Audrey reached forward and touched his cheek.

‘Don’t worry, OK?’

‘You can talk to me,’ Leo said.

‘It’s nothing. Just leave it,’ she told him, and he pushed his own plate away and took her hand, pulling her up and over to the fire.

There was no way I could tell Leo the way things were. That if I didn’t take the meds and talk to Harry and go to Caldwell, then the Thing would come worse than ever. Who’d want a girlfriend who said stuff like that? I just had to keep things even and calm, in fine precarious balance. Mum happy, Peter. Even Leo. Give everyone the version of me they needed.

‘Audrey,’ he whispered when I started to kiss him, like he still wanted to talk. But I didn’t. I wanted to be close to him, so close you wouldn’t even fit a blade of grass between us. I wanted to kiss him for longer than thirty seconds for a change, to forget everything here and now, in his arms.

‘Shh,’ I said, pulling closer, kissing harder and he moved towards me. I undid his buttons, pushed off his shirt, his jeans too, kissed the muscles in his shoulders, in his arms. And he took off my clothes, gently, his eyes full of questions.

But there was no question. This was just now, and the afternoon dipped and swung like the comfiest bed, and everything was right. That’s how it felt. I forgot to hide when it was Leo’s eyes looking; I forgot to be frightened of feeling, forgot to be ashamed. If he said I was all right, then that was the truth, because Leo didn’t lie. He was
mine. And I understood the point of everything, right then and there. That happiness was being loved for who you were without reservation or hesitation, without stepping backwards and checking your phone or seeing what someone else thought. It was trust; it was faith; it was knowing that the love you gave was safe in someone else’s heart.

Leo sighed and breathed and stopped. He kissed my hair and my eyelids and the tiny mole on the right-hand side of my jaw like I was precious.

Someone had to be the sensible one and Leo guessed it would have to be him, although his brain was burning like the coals in the fire, glowing with heat; his whole body too.

‘Aud,’ he said. He had his shirt off. So did she. And her body was beautiful. He leant and kissed her breast and she shivered.

‘We should stop,’ he whispered, looking up at her. ‘Sue’ll be home soon.’

‘OK,’ she answered, not moving, looping her arms round his neck. Leo lay next to her again and ran his lips across the sharp line of her collarbone. She tasted of the winter day outside and of fire, of hot, dancing fire. Audrey’s hands clutched at his shoulders; her mouth was everywhere and his body was ticking like a bomb.

Kissing her like this, and her holding him, pulling him tightly against her, it was impossible to stop. No one would. But it was all so fast: from a kiss, to this, to lying with her, naked, her long legs and arms, her hair wild and everywhere, and her heart thumping so hard against her ribs.

‘Is this right?’ she said as she touched him. He nodded, of course; how could he say no?

But he couldn’t go on; he couldn’t let it happen.

‘OK,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’m getting dressed. And you
should too.’ It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, he reckoned, to stand up and pull on his T-shirt and jumper and compose himself. He opened the back door and let in a gust of cold December air.

When he turned round Audrey was still sitting on the rug, her knees folded to her chest, her head resting there, her hair cascading down her back. She was a willow, a lily. She looked up at him, her eyes big without her glasses, and blinked, then said, ‘Is it because of this?’

She held out her arms.

‘No.’ Leo shook his head and went to her. ‘No. Don’t think that.’

He held her and kissed her again until the moon passed the sun and the sky ached into evening.

School broke up and so there was no more skiving off to be had. In theory he should have been able to talk to Audrey all day: to make plans, plot and whisper. Because now Audrey was the only thing; he thought of her and his stomach swung, his eyes blurred and usually he had to sit down. Leo stood in the field; he was supposed to be bringing the pony up to the stable. The vet was coming later. Frost glittered on the fields in the morning light and he looked over the woods to the Grange, thinking how he should be revising maybe. A line of poetry came.
Thank you, Mr Donne
, he thought, whispering the words in the direction of the Grange: ‘
I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I did, till we loved?
’ Perhaps he could smuggle Audrey into the farm. They’d hibernate for the winter, up in his room or out in the barn. His head swam at the thought. Sue kept
looking at him, an exclamation mark in her eyes, and he guessed it was written all over him: love. That’s what this was. It had happened in a hurry, in the end, and now it was the feeling of running incredibly fast, the feeling when his legs began to fly as if barely touching the ground, like you could conquer the world in a stride. He put his head against the pony’s face and breathed in the sweetness, stroked her velvet nose. Love. Should he tell her? Not yet.

Leo racked his brains for something special to plan, maybe they’d go up to town and see the Christmas lights. Go Christmas shopping, hear a band, ice-skating, anything. He wanted plans, decisions, and so he rang the landline. And for once someone answered: Lorraine.

‘Hi, it’s Leo,’ he said, worrying in that moment that this was a mistake and that he should have hung up. But he needed to hear Audrey’s voice, at least, just for a minute or two.

‘Who? Pardon?’ Lorraine hadn’t been over for the past two weeks and Sue had wondered if she was OK. He could confirm now that she was not.

‘It’s Leo,’ he repeated, keeping his voice polite, formal. ‘May I talk to Audrey, please?’

‘No. She’s not home. I’ve told you before; don’t ring here. I don’t want you pestering my daughter.’ There was a tightness to her voice like she was holding something back, like she’d have preferred to swear at him, scream or shout. She hung up before he could answer.

‘What happened?’ Sue asked, staring at him.

‘Nothing. Wrong number.’

‘Oh, well, try again.’

‘No, no it’s OK. I’ll call later.’

He walked up to his room – he should have been revising – and tried to read, but the sentences ran into one another and made no sense.

‘Mum! Was that Leo? Why did you speak to him like that?’ I snatched at the receiver. She held it away from me.

‘You what?’ Her face reddened, eyes popping, staring at me as she put down the phone.

‘What are you trying to do? Are you trying to ruin everything for me?’

Mum’s voice was pretend calm. Patient. ‘Audrey, you know fine rightly that your welfare is my only concern. And, that aside, I thought I told you. I don’t want you seeing that boy.’

‘There’s no big deal. I just like him. He likes me. That’s it. There’s nothing horrible going on. Don’t you want me to have friends?’ Stupid question. Where were all my other friends? And hers? And Peter’s? Our emails, letters, phone calls, texts? Even my dad hadn’t bothered to keep us. I saw our lives and our future spinning and spiralling in smaller and smaller circles, then disappearing into the dust of time. Just Mum and me and Peter. And nothing.

‘There’s no need to be hysterical about this, Audrey. I don’t want that lad interrupting our precious family time, end of. You’re on another planet these days, racing off out of here every chance you get.’ She threw up her hands, exasperated. ‘I get little enough time with you and Pete. That is why I asked your boyfriend not to call.’

‘You shouldn’t have. I could have spoken to him and explained.’ We stood there, not close, held apart; two magnets, poles repelling.

She rolled her eyes and sighed as if I were the unreasonable one. I got that Mum had taken time off again for the holidays and we were going to spend that time together, but Leo had only phoned; that wasn’t a crime.

I looked at Peter – he had his coat on already and was waiting by the front door. Mum had said she might take us up to town Christmas shopping, or maybe to the cinema or the panto. He was dying to go to the panto and was practising shouting, ‘He’s behind you,’ every time he caught one of us off guard. A minute ago Mum had been smiling, looking like she could be persuaded.

‘I don’t want to hear it,’ she said, walking away, lighting her fag, pretending to watch the TV.

‘What about the panto, Aud?’ Peter said, looking from Mum to me and back to Mum. I nodded and whispered it’d be OK.

But when I spoke she turned up the volume.

‘Mum, please, let me tell you, let me explain, please.’

She lifted the controller. The volume increased until the flat shook with the noise of the saleswoman’s voice as she squawked about the range of kitchen utensils on special offer, and I saw Mum rummage in her handbag for her credit card, then scan the room searching for the phone.

I walked to the TV and positioned my hand, ready to turn it off.

‘Don’t you dare,’ Mum said.

I pretended I couldn’t hear. I’d stood up to Lizzy; I could stand up to Mum. I turned and pressed the button.

‘How bloody dare you, Audrey!’ Mum braced her arms on the side of the chair, ready to stand up.

‘Because I want you to listen to me. You never listen. Leo’s really nice. I swear. You should give him a chance; you’re not being fair.’ Mum pulled herself up, moved to the telly to switch it back on.

‘I know what’s best for you, Aud; you’re my only daughter. You’re not well. You’re not mentally fit to be deciding to start a relationship with a lad who’s older than you and more experienced. So you’re staying here, at home with me, where you’re safe. You may call that not fair. I call it for your own good.’

She was planted in front of me. Solid, immovable, like a slab of concrete.
Concrete heart
, I thought.

‘I’m not going to stop seeing him. You can’t make me.’ I realized I was as tall as her, almost. Straightening up a little more, I looked her full in the face. She held my gaze and didn’t flinch.

‘Let me tell you a few things, shall I, Audrey? Let me tell you what this boy is after. What do you know about sex?’

‘Enough,’ I muttered, trying to press past her and leave the room. My face flared red. I remembered the day at the farm, how we’d come so close, and it had all been my idea, and how Leo had seen all of me and kissed all of me and now I couldn’t think about anything else. Mum was watching me, her breath coming faster.

‘What’ve you been up to, Audrey?’ she said, stepping closer.

‘Nothing.’

‘I know what this is,’ she said, moving sideways as I did. ‘You’re planning on some dirty little romance, you and this lad. Well, he won’t be happy until he’s got your knickers down and got you in trouble. And I’m not going to let that happen. So.’

‘That’s rubbish,’ I said. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

Her mouth hung open; her chest was heaving. ‘I bet a doctor could tell me different,’ she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me round to face her.

‘What do you mean?’ I said.

‘I bet if I got a doctor to check you out he’d tell me what you’d been up to, no problem.’

‘I don’t understand what you’re on about,’ I said to her, even hotter, scared.

‘It’s pretty easy to tell if a girl’s still a virgin, Audrey,’ Mum said, and I put my hand over my mouth and swallowed down vomit.

‘I am a virgin. Why don’t you believe me?’ I whispered.

‘Because I wasn’t born yesterday, that’s why. You’re a little slag, Aud, aren’t you? I never thought I’d say it about a daughter of mine. But you’re a dirty little slag. I can smell it on you; you stink of it.’ She stormed away, slamming the kitchen door and I walked upstairs, very slowly, like an old woman, and the room dipped and fell as I rolled on the waves of her disgust.

On Christmas Eve I went down to the kitchen, which was cloudy with steam and hot like hell. The smells had been wafting up to my room for ages and if Mum was doing
the cooking I reckoned I could help. Plus, I wanted to make it up. But Mum was cooking and stirring something which bubbled and boiled in a cast-iron pan and she didn’t look up, so I watched her bashing and crashing around, her lips pressed tight, and when I spoke it was as if I wasn’t even there.

‘Mum,’ I said. She ran water into the kettle, set it to boil, her face vicious with whatever she was thinking.

‘Mum, will you listen to me?’ I asked, but she kept her back to me. ‘Mum, I wanted to tell you, about me and Leo, please.’

A lid clattered off a pan as the water boiled over and on to the stove, spitting and hissing. It was pointless trying, I should leave her, find Peter and make sure he was washed and dressed; we could maybe make up our own pantomime or head to the woods for the day. I turned to go, but the Thing barred the door so I couldn’t edge away, and in the heat a bead of sweat ran from my neck, between my shoulder blades and down my back. The Thing pushed me forward again, against the edge of the stove, and the water sloshed and spilled and bubbled and spat and burned and I screamed.

Later we sat in the back of the car. Peter whispered were we going to the panto after all, and I couldn’t answer, cradling my arm.

The waiting room was packed. Little huddles of people on their phones, drunks shouting, babies crying. Mum went back and forth to the reception hatch asking, ‘When?’ and at last we were called into a cubicle. The doctor asked
how it had happened as he gently inspected first the burn on my arm, then the one on my stomach. I began to hum, softly, then louder, as Mum explained. Her mouth moved. I refused to read the words. I wouldn’t put them together, I couldn’t. I looked up at him.

‘It was an accident,’ I said, ‘but it hurts.’ I wasn’t sure which bit I meant. If it was my arm I was talking about at all. Perhaps that pain stole the one from inside me.

‘We can give you something for that.’ He smiled and carried on asking Mum about my treatment and who was I seeing and that he’d follow this up.

A nurse put on a dressing, Mum talked and held my hand and the nurse looked up at her and smiled.

It was late when we got home and I took another of the pills and walked up to bed without seeing anything.

Mum came upstairs, much, much later, carrying a glass of water and a bottle of medicine. She sat beside me and stroked my hair; she was ever so gentle and calm now. When she held the spoon to my lips, I swallowed like a good girl should.

‘It’s all right, love, you’re all right now. See? See what I mean? You’re in no fit state. Poor little girl.’ And there was nothing left of me to argue. I listened to her go back downstairs, the rattle of her keys, the creak of the door as she left, and the rumble of the car as she took off into the night.