Skin Deep (27 page)

We kissed for a while until we got hungry and stopped to eat the picnic her mum had made us. Raggs gobbled scraps of sandwich and grapes from our fingers.

Jenna brushed the crumbs away and checked her watch. ‘I need to get back. I want you to come and meet Dad.’

‘Uh . . . I don’t know . . .’

‘He won’t really chase you with a fork, you big baby.’

‘I am not a big baby!’

She jumped up and held her hand out. ‘Prove it then.’

I walked down the hill beside her, humming the funeral march while she pretended she wasn’t laughing at me.

When she pulled me in through the back door and shouted, ‘Dad,’ the man who came into the kitchen was just what I’d imagined: a typical big house village guy, tallish, wearing cords and a checked shirt. He frowned at the sight of me.

‘Dad, this is Ryan.’

Jenna still had hold of my hand and her father’s shoulders tensed.

I let go of her and held my hand out to him. ‘Hello.’

We shook. I hoped my palm wasn’t sweaty because the back of my neck was.

‘Hello,’ he said.

If we lived in an age when it was OK to threaten your daughter’s boyfriend with a shotgun and run him from the house, I reckoned he’d have been reaching for his right now judging by that clenched jaw.

‘We’ve been for a walk, but Mum told us not to be long,’ Jenna said, dropping her mother right in it without a qualm. ‘Is anything on TV?’

Mrs Reed appeared in the doorway, led by the scent of danger. ‘Hi, Ryan. Thanks for looking after her. You didn’t see any strangers about, did you?’

‘Didn’t see anyone at all.’

‘Are you staying for a while?’

Jenna jumped in. ‘Can we watch some TV?’

‘Of course. You go through. I’ll make some hot chocolate. Would you like one, Ryan?’

‘Yes, please,’ I said and scuttled after Jenna.

I caught an angry voice before we were halfway across the hall. ‘Who the hell is that, Tanya?’

‘It’s her boyfriend. Now be reasonable and keep your voice down. She’s brought him home to meet you. We’ll talk about it later.’

Jenna closed the sitting room door behind us. ‘Leave him to Mum,’ she whispered and turned the TV on.

I’d no idea what Jenna’s mum could have said to him back there, but when they came in with a tray of hot chocolate, Mr Reed wore a different face. Charlie came clattering down the stairs when he was shouted for and made a dive for the remote control. He wanted cartoons on. His mother tutted and said he was rude so he asked me if I minded. I said I didn’t and that was true. I’d never got to watch that stuff at his age so I had catching up to do.

We watched the TV until some girl stuff came on and he started to fidget. ‘Do you play football?’ he asked. ‘Want a game?’ I nodded and he scrambled up. ‘I’ll have Dad in goal. You can have Jenna. She’s useless.’

‘I bet she’s not,’ I said. She probably was, but you can’t say that. It made Charlie smile anyway, though I saw her dad roll his eyes.

I helped Charlie set up the goals and we had a kickabout for half an hour. Then I decided I ought to be getting back to Mum.

When I left, Jenna’s dad even let her walk down to the gate with me. I saw him shift uncomfortably in the chair as we went out, but he didn’t say anything to stop her.

‘He’ll come around,’ she said with a grin as she kissed me goodbye.

On Monday, Mum picked me up from school at lunchtime as planned
.
I threw my school bag on the back seat and flopped into the front with her. ‘We’ve got time for lunch,’ she said. ‘Your appointment isn’t until half two.’

‘Oh good,’ I said, trying to smile back. This wasn’t something I was looking forward to, but neither were split ends and my hair definitely needed a trim.

‘You’re sure now? Lorna did say if you can’t face it that she’ll come to the house again.’

‘No, it’ll be OK,’ I said, hoping it would be. Maybe it would today, on a quiet day. Skipping school to get a haircut on Monday afternoon wasn’t something Mum would ever have sanctioned last year. But that was last year.

We had lunch at the Lemon Tree Café. ‘Is Dad going mental about Ryan?’ I asked, wanting to talk to take my mind off the ordeal coming up.

‘Mostly not.’ Mum sipped her coffee. ‘He’s taking it quite well.’

I sniffed. ‘You mean it only took you an hour to calm him down and not two.’

‘Something like that,’ she said with a laugh. ‘You have to understand it’s difficult for him. You’ll always be his little girl and it’s hard for him to see you growing up.’

‘Huh! Charlie is going to have it so much easier than me. It’s not fair.’

Mum shuddered. ‘Don’t. I dread the time when Charlie gets interested in girls.’

I had a hard time picturing my baby brother grown up and with a girl at all. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll never get a girlfriend. He won’t be interested unless she looks like a football.’

‘I think he might grow out of that, Jenna,’ Mum said.

‘OK, place your bet. I think he’ll be . . . ooh, nineteen before he manages to persuade some poor girl to go out with him. What about you?’

‘Fifteen,’ she said gloomily. ‘Right before his GCSEs. Bound to be.’

I laughed and changed the subject. ‘What do you think of Ryan?’ I’d been dying to ask her this, but putting it off too. It all depended on her answer.

She thought for a moment. ‘I’ve only met him a couple of times, of course, but . . .’

I put my fork down and waited with bated breath.

‘He’s quite grown up for his age, I think. Vey nice manners. But one thing does surprise me – that he’s working and not going to college. He seems bright . . .’

‘I don’t think he’s thought about it.’

‘I don’t understand that. From what you’ve said, his mother is obviously an educated woman. I can’t understand her not encouraging him to go.’ She studied me for a second. ‘He’s a very attractive boy too.’

I just managed to stop a smirk. ‘Is he? I hadn’t noticed.’

Mum rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, I’m sure you hadn’t. Anyway, there’s something I wanted to ask you. Perhaps this is the right time . . . As I said, he does seems more mature than most boys his age. He isn’t . . . oh, how can I put it . . . he doesn’t expect you to . . . um . . .’

‘Mum, for God’s sake! No, he isn’t pushing me into anything.’

‘You can’t blame me for asking. He is older than you.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Is it something you’ve talked about?’

I felt my face heat. ‘No. We’ve only been going out properly for a few weeks. Before we were just friends.’

‘Only if you were thinking about it, I’d like to think you’d talk to me about it. OK?’

‘Yes, OK, OK, but . . . it hasn’t . . . I mean, I don’t feel ready . . .’ Not that I hadn’t thought about it, but as something way, way ahead, all blurry and hazy and scary. One step that was too huge and too fast and impossible to imagine doing for real.

‘Perhaps he knows you’re not ready. Maybe he respects that.’

I thought about it. ‘Yes, I guess so. He’s funny like that – good at knowing things without having to be told.’ I paused and gathered my nerve. ‘But . . . he’s been out with quite a lot of girls before me . . . you know, girls who’re older. Sometimes I sort of worry about that because . . . oh, I don’t know . . .’

‘Does he know you haven’t had a boyfriend before? Did he know that before he asked you out?’

I chuckled. ‘Yes. Actually one time when I was going out with some of the people from school, he thought it was a date – which it really wasn’t. He gave me a lecture about not going too far. He sounded like Dad!’

‘Now that I wish I’d seen,’ Mum said with a smile. ‘There you are then – he doesn’t mind. Don’t create problems that don’t exist. You know your granny’s favourite saying . . .’

‘“I’ve worried over many things and most of them have never happened,”’ I chorused with her. I stuck my tongue out. ‘And that applies just as much to you fussing over Charlie.’

She shook her head despairingly. ‘There’s an exception to every rule and that exception is called Charlie. I only have to turn my back for a second and he’s broken something or cut himself. Trouble follows that child like a rat after the Pied Piper.’ She checked her watch. ‘Oh, eat up. We need to get over to Lorna’s.’

The doorbell jingled, announcing our arrival in the salon. I shuffled in behind Mum and breathed with relief at the sight of the empty chairs. But then I gulped – empty chairs laid out in front of a row of . . . mirrors.

Mum gave me a quick hug as Lorna hurried over with a black nylon robe.

She ushered me to a chair. ‘What’s it to be? A trim or a new look?’

I looked in the mirror, focusing on her face and not mine. ‘A trim. Keep the length, but maybe some long layers?’

She lifted my hair and fiddled with it. ‘How about a few around your face? Shape it up and update it a little. Something like that.’ She pointed to a picture on the wall.

I wanted to ask Mum if she thought that would suit me, but I didn’t have the courage in case the thought flashed through Lorna’s head that it would take more than a few layers to make me look good. Instead I agreed so I could get to the safety of the washbasin where I couldn’t see my reflection.

Once Lorna started to cut my hair, I had an excuse to keep my eyes closed to stop the snipped strands falling into them. Being here with all this reflective glass reminded me too much of the day I’d got home from the hospital. When I’d gone upstairs to clean my teeth before bed, when I took off my mask and turned to the basin . . . when I saw my reflection in the mirror . . .

. . . the mass of puckered, angry skin stretched down from below my eye to the base of my neck, the new graft still knitting into place, raw-looking and ragged . . .

. . . hideous. Which was when I broke the mirror.

‘I’m just going to blow the hair off your nose,’ Lorna said, breaking into my thoughts. I felt a quick blast of warm air on my face from the dryer. ‘All done. I’ll dry it off now.’

There was no excuse to keep my eyes shut any longer so I searched for another memory to give me the courage to open them.

I found one from a few days ago. One that still made me smile. Ryan tucking my hair behind my ears, holding my chin and staring at me. ‘What’re you doing?’ I’d asked him.

‘Deciding which bit to kiss first.’ He said it as if he was trying to choose between chocolate fudge cake and cookie dough icecream. ‘I have to start somewhere, but I want it all at once. Hmm, let’s pick . . . here!’ He pounced on me, making a smacking noise with his lips at the top of my right cheekbone where the scarring started.

If he was here now, he’d prod and tickle me until I opened my eyes, I knew that, so I sucked a quick breath in and looked in the mirror.

My reflection wasn’t as bad as in those early days. The scar tissue had faded and flattened with the pressure mask and with time. I looked . . . human, I suppose. Scarred but human. I could almost hear his smug voice saying, ‘Told you so.’

Mum let me stay quiet on the way back to the car. She was probably happy I’d got through it without losing the plot and she didn’t expect more of me. But as we got close to the car park, I surprised us both.

I stopped outside the kitchen and bathroom showroom at the head of the alley. ‘Mum, do you think they have steam-proof mirrors for sale there?’ She stared at me. ‘Only I need a new one.’

Her face lit up.

It was while we were in the shop that she got the call. She answered her mobile and listened for a moment before bursting into tears.

‘Mum? Mum, what’s wrong?’ Was it an accident? Dad? Charlie?

She put her arms round me. ‘Nothing’s wrong, darling. It’s your dad. The tests are back. He’s in the clear.’

The phone vibrated in my pocket
.

‘Can I answer it?’

At the nod, I flipped it open.

I know
. . .

I closed the phone.

‘Was that your mum?’

‘My girlfriend.’

‘Are you sure your mum will be back soon?’

‘I think so, but I told you, I didn’t know she was going out.’ I clamped my hands together while he watched me. His colleague stared out of the window.

The door opened with a clatter and Mum ran down the steps. She stopped short at the sight of the two strange men.

‘Who’re you?’

‘Police, Mrs Gordon.’ They got their badges out.

‘What do you want?’ Her face snapped into her ‘I fought the law and the law ain’t never gonna win’ look.

‘We were waiting for you. We need your son to come to the station and give a DNA sample.’

She opened her mouth to rant about civil liberties and the police state so I leapt up and went to her. ‘It’s to eliminate me from their enquiries. They’re asking a few people.’