Midnight (11 page)

I had to act on Saturday afternoons too if Dad was around. He liked me to clean the car with him. I'd been doing this ever since I was a little kid, when I really did find it fun messing around with a hosepipe and a lot of foam.

Will had once been part of the Saturday stint, though he was frequently in trouble. He'd juggle with oranges or balance loo-rolls on his head or run amok with the shopping trolley, and whine for more cake and spill his drink down himself. Mum would tell him off constantly and try to bribe him to behave. Dad just got furious with him. Once Will deliberately turned the hosepipe on him and Dad lost his temper altogether and walloped him.

It was a relief all round when Will got to eleven or twelve and flatly refused to join in Saturday jaunts, holing up in his room with his homework.
I
was still expected to play happy families even now I was thirteen.

I couldn't psych myself up to saying anything about Jasmine's invitation until breakfast. Then I announced it, just like that.

‘I'm going over to Jasmine's,' I said, and I took a quick sip of tea. I was so tense that I choked, and Mum had to pat me on the back.

‘You've got ever so pally with her in a very short space of time,' she said. ‘I don't really know why she wants to see so much of you, Violet. I mean, we're just ordinary folk and they're celebrities.'

‘Why
shouldn't
this Jasmine want our Violet for her friend?' said Dad. ‘She's obviously got good taste. You go and have a good time, Violet. I'll come and pick you up at lunch time.'

‘I'm staying there for lunch, Dad.'

‘Well, tea time then. I'd like to meet her.'

I couldn't stand the thought of Dad barging into their flat and acting all heavy-handed with Jasmine. He'd given Marnie and Terry a ludicrous warning about never taking E tablets at dances, but they are so hopelessly uncool Terry thought he meant
vitamin
E tablets. I had always felt I was equally sad and out of it, but now Jasmine had picked me out to be her best friend it was as if a little of her dazzle had sparked off something in me.

‘Oh
Dad
,' I said, and I raised my eyebrows. ‘It's OK, Jasmine says
her
dad will give me a lift back sometime this evening.'

‘Jonathan Day's giving you a lift! And I expect he's got a really posh car too,' said Mum.

‘Well, make sure he hasn't been drinking. I know what some of these actors are like. We had one of the
San
Francisco
cast let himself down the other night – absolutely paralytic, he was. One of our lads caught him taking a leak in someone's front garden. That's not very nice, is it?'

‘It keeps foxes away,' said Mum. ‘Don't stare at me like that. It stops them digging up your garden.'

‘What does?' said Dad.

‘Men's urine,' said Mum, pronouncing it delicately and then blushing.

‘Well, you're a mine of information, Iris,' said Dad. He caught my eye and grinned, wanting to make a joke of it, us against Mum. I grinned back guiltily because I needed Dad on my side.

I thought Will was still asleep. He often slept late at weekends, not coming to forage for his breakfast until midday. But when I went upstairs to get my jacket he came out onto the landing in his old towelling dressing gown, hair tousled, feet bare.

‘Where are you off to, so bright and early?' he said, nodding at my jacket.

‘I'm going to Jasmine's,' I said proudly.

‘Ooh, how jolly jolly jolly,' he said in a silly girly gush.

I looked at his pale face, at the dark circles under his eyes. He was obviously mocking me, but I wondered if he wished he was going out to see a friend? Did he really
want
to be such a loner?

I suddenly felt so sorry for him I wanted to give him a big hug.

Will wrinkled his nose and backed away from me. ‘Get away from me, Violet. You stink!'

I was wearing jasmine scent. I'd bought my own little bottle.

‘I don't stink!' I said, hurt.

He was the one who stank, smelling of unwashed boy
and rumpled bedclothes. He yawned and stretched, scratching his tousled hair.

‘I was thinking. We haven't had a hike through Brompton Woods for ages. Fancy a tramp?'

I stared at Will. Once, long ago, he had taken me on a magical day out to Brompton Woods. We'd caught the bus to Brompton village and then walked for miles under a vast canopy of old oaks. It rained on and off but the branches above our heads were so thick with leaves they acted as umbrellas.

I had the Dragonfly Fairy in my pocket, her turquoise gossamer wings carefully folded. I reached into my pocket every now and then to stroke her. Will led us along tiny winding paths in the woods. I followed obediently because I was little enough then to think he always knew where he was going. He took us to a secret green pool in the heart of the woods, with real dragonflies skimming the emerald water. Will felt for the Dragonfly Fairy in my pocket. He made her shake her wings out and then he ran with her round and round the pond.

I know he must have held onto her all the time, but somehow I remember her swooping independently, soaring along on her iridescent wings, her green legs running through thin air.

I'd begged and begged Will to take me back to that pond in Brompton Woods. Sometimes he said he was too busy. Sometimes he said I was mad wanting to go all that way just to see some old stagnant pond. The last time I'd asked him he'd looked at me vaguely and said,
‘Brompton Woods? Have we ever been there? I haven't got a clue where they are.'

He was waiting now, his eyes gleaming, almost as green as the pond.

‘Let's go tomorrow,' I said.

‘I can't tomorrow. I've got plans,' said Will. ‘Today.'

‘But
I've
got plans, Will. You know I'm going to Jasmine's.'

‘Go there tomorrow,' said Will.

I thought it out in my head. I could phone Jasmine, make up a headache, a tummy upset, some family crisis. She'd understand. I saw Will and me walking through the woods, finding the green pond. I was too old for Dragonfly Fairy games but I could still take her in my pocket like a lucky mascot.

Will had a little smile on his face, reading my thoughts. He knew me so well.

But I knew him too. I knew why he was doing this to me. I also knew that as soon as I'd cancelled everything with Jasmine he'd start wavering. He'd come up with some excuse why we couldn't go to Brompton Woods after all. He might not even bother to make it plausible.

I was sick of Will's power games.

Maybe I'd sooner see Jasmine than Will.

I would
much
sooner see Jasmine.

‘I'm seeing Jasmine today, Will,' I said.

I walked past him, along the landing. He didn't call after me. I didn't look back.

I wanted to go to Jasmine's straight away. It was only
nine but I didn't think she'd mind. She'd begged me to come as early as I could.

‘At least let me give you a lift there,' said Dad.

There was no way I could get out of this one. I didn't want to be alone with Dad, especially as he was still going on about Mum, ridiculing her.

‘She's ludicrously impressed by this new friend of yours and her fancy actor parents,' said Dad. He exaggerated the word – act-
or
– in fruity tones, as if he felt this was the way actors themselves would say it. ‘What sort of car does this Jonathan whatsit drive, then?'

‘
I
don't know, Dad.'

‘I thought you said he gave you a lift home the other evening?'

‘Yeah, he did, but you know I don't know one kind of car from another.'

‘Well, was it big and flash?'

‘It was just . . . ordinary,' I said vaguely.

‘Honestly, Violet. You've got the powers of observation of a gnat.'

‘Yeah, well, I've not been professionally trained like
some
people,' I said.

‘So what are
you
going to do when you grow up, darling? Still into this sewing lark, eh? Sister Susie's sewing shirts for soldiers. Well, I suppose you can always sew your dad a few shirts.'

‘I don't want to sew shirts, Dad. I want to design stuff. You know. Like my fairies.'

Dad sighed, and then reached out and patted my hand. ‘I think you're away with the fairies half the time,
Violet. You're such a dreamy girl. Still, it's good for you that you've got this Jasmine. Your mother and I have been worried about you not having any friends. I know you went around with those little dumpy girls but you didn't seem that happy in their company.'

‘I'm not friends with them any more. I just want to be friends with Jasmine.'

‘Well, I should be a bit cautious. Strikes me it's best to have lots of friends. Then if one or t'other lets you down you've always got half a dozen other mates. Like all my lads at work or the Masons or the guys at the golf club.' Dad smiled smugly as he showed off his own popularity. ‘Still, this friendship with Jasmine is a start. You need to branch out more. You don't want to moulder at home and just tag after Will.'

I glanced at Dad. He was staring straight ahead, watching the road.

‘Don't you want Will and me to be friends, Dad?' I said softly.

He didn't answer, humming along to some old pop tune on Radio 2. Maybe he hadn't heard me. Maybe he was
pretending
he hadn't heard me.

‘Of course I want you two to get on together,' Dad suddenly blurted out. ‘It's just I don't like the way Will bosses you about and encourages you to join in all his silly games.'

‘What games?' I said, a pulse beating in my forehead. Ghostly bats flew straight in my face.

‘Silly looks, sighs, dumb insolence, all that nonsense,' said Dad.

I breathed out slowly. ‘He's going through a stage,' I said.

‘He's always been in some bloody stage,' said Dad, through clenched teeth.

‘Why don't you like him, Dad?' I said.

‘What? What do you mean? Of course I like him. He's my son.'

‘Is it because he's adopted?'

‘For God's sake, Violet, don't start all that. And don't you dare bring this up with your mother. She scarcely slept for weeks after
my
bloody mother let the cat out of the bag.'

‘But
why
didn't you tell Will before? It must have been so awful for him finding out like that.'

‘He was the one
acting
awful as far as I remember, refusing to say thank you for his present. Wasn't that how it all started, Will being bloody-minded and selfish, as always? I know your gran winds people up. Dear God, she winds me up enough. But Will didn't have to be downright rude to her. What was it he said? Smelly old bag? How dare he!'

‘I know he was rude. But I just don't understand. How could you and Mum keep it a secret all these years?'

‘It wasn't really a secret, as such. We were going to tell him as soon as he was old enough to understand. But by that time – well, your mother thought of him as
her
son and it would have been so painful for her. She wasn't well, not for a long time, after—' Dad swerved suddenly to avoid a bike. ‘Good God, where did he come from?
Look, Violet, I don't want to talk about it any more, especially not when I'm driving. I don't want to kill us both.'

‘But Dad—'

‘The subject's closed!' Dad said sharply.

We didn't say another word until we got to Jasmine's flat.

Dear C.D.,

I wonder what you were like when you were a little boy? I know you must have loved drawing right from when you could first hold a pencil. Did your parents encourage you? I wonder about your father – maybe he wouldn't have liked seeing you hunched up over a drawing pad, creating your own private fairy world? Did he nag you to go out and play football like the other little boys?

He must be so proud of you now though.

With love from

Violet

XXX