Honest Page 8

  ‘I’ve been sleepwalking,’ I lied.

  ‘Oh?’ she said, putting the cup down and flipping open her pad of paper. ‘How long has this been going on?’

  I shrugged, then winced. I must have been pretty badly bruised. I supposed I was lucky to be alive.

  ‘A while,’ I said.

  Melanie cocked her head to one side. ‘You’ve never mentioned this before. Has anything been getting you down lately?’

  ‘I didn’t think it was important enough to mention. No, I haven’t been down about anything; I’ve just been getting up a lot at night. I don’t know why.’ I made sure to drop the tone of my voice towards the end and look at the floor, because it made me look sad and a little pathetic.

  I’d hoped she might leave me alone if she thought she was bothering me.

  ‘Well, sleepwalking can happen as a result of stress. Have you been thinking about anything in particularly since you came here? Things about Peter, or things about De—’

  ‘No,’ I said, cutting her off. ‘I haven’t thought about them. I’m just trying to get settled in that’s all. Settling in is stressful.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ said Melanie. ‘And you have been trying to reach out to people, haven’t you?’

  I frowned. ‘If you’re talking about David then don’t bother. I know you don’t like the things that have been happening between us. It’s none of your business.’

  ‘No, no, I’m not saying that. I just wonder if perhaps we’ve all been a bit too hard on you, hm? Perhaps you’ve been finding it harder than we thought to get settled in.’

  I didn’t like where she was going with this at all, so I just shrugged. ‘Maybe,’ I said.

  She looked at me, seemingly deciding something. Her eyes flitted around my face, her lips together. Then she said, ‘Would you like it if you had a couple of visitors, Ellen? Some friends to come and cheer you up?’

  ‘What, like David?’ I said, hopeful. If anything could get him to stop being so hostile towards me, surely this would be it. He was my last link with Peter and I couldn’t let him go, no matter how he treated me. He was only one man. He couldn’t help it.

  64% of women...

  ‘Yes, why not?’ said Melanie. ‘And Lauren too. Perhaps all you need is a bit of an icebreaker to get to know them and make friends. You all got off on the wrong foot, that’s all.’

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘Right,’ said Melanie, slapping her notepad. ‘I’ll try and get that arranged for you. Perhaps they could pop round, or you could go and see one of the local bands together?’

  I felt suddenly deflated. Lauren? Why Lauren? I didn’t have time for her, and besides, she was the one getting in the way. I could hardly talk about Peter with her sniffing about. She never knew him, after all.

  When Melanie left, Dad came in and sat on the edge of my bed, looking timid. ‘Don’t give me those big cow eyes, dad,’ I said. ‘It’s not what you think.’

  ‘What am I thinking?’ he said, his eyes welling up with tears. He looked even more pitiful than ever, pigeon–chested with knobbly elbows and his scrawny thin ponytail.

  It was no wonder he looked so frail; not like a real man at all. At dinner times he barely touched his food, even though he insisted I had to keep eating. I obliged, but only because I could get to the bathroom before it was too late to undo all the damage.

  ‘You’re thinking I attempted suicide or something ridiculous. I told Melanie and now I’m telling you. I was sleepwalking,’ I said, keeping my voice firm.

  I was using my ‘mum’ voice, the one that always made the hairs on the back of dad’s neck prickle up. I could tell by the way he seemed to rise up on his hackles whenever I used that voice. It was necessary at my age to have some authority.

  ‘You’ve never mentioned that before,’ he said, his voice thinning to a whisper as he choked back more tears. ‘I’ve never heard you getting up—’

  ‘What does it matter?’ I said, running my hands through my straggly hair. It was greasy and in dire need of a good wash — but that was practically impossible. Whenever I went to the effort of getting in the bath, I got that awful feeling again and the water ran away down the plug, even with the stopper in.

  I’d decided what was going on with the bath. It wasn’t a plumbing problem. After my accident on the stairs I couldn’t ignore it anymore. There was no invisible stranger in my house — it was Peter.

  ‘I’m bored stiff here. I’m not surprised I sleepwalk, are you?’ I said. Dad didn’t like me mentioning Peter, or any boy for that matter, so talking of ghosts and possessions was totally out of the question. I decided to stick to the facts as closely as I could.

  ‘What can I do to help, flower? Anything, come on, you name it. I know I’ve been hard on you, leaving you in the house all day, what with your leg,’ he said, desperately clutching my hand. I pulled it away.

  ‘You know what I want,’ I said.

  I couldn’t resist bringing Peter up just a little; the old, alive Peter that is. It could work to my advantage. ‘But he isn’t here anymore, and nothing’s the same. I can’t even walk out the bloody house like everybody else because every time I do my knee starts killing me more than ever. I’m trapped.’

  ‘You aren’t trapped, flower,’ he said. ‘You’ve got your chair, and that stair lift I got you. I did well with that didn’t I, eh?’

  ‘Yes,’ I hissed. ‘But it’s not good enough. I’ve got no hobbies, no anything. David’s being led astray by this idiot girl so I can’t even—’

  ‘That David Peirce boy? As far as I can remember, you never even liked him.’ Dad’s eyes darkened, his lips tightening up. I could sense the movement of his fingers anxiously picking at the duvet cover. He was getting upset again.

  ‘I can like whoever I want to,’ I said, staring him out. ‘I’m just bored, that’s all. Bored stiff.’

  ‘I’ve brought you your magazines, haven’t I?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Not good enough.’

  ‘I’ll...I’ll figure something out, my little flower. I promise,’ he said. Come evening, dad came back from the shops with what he called “the best surprise ever”.

  He called out to me from the hall. ‘Close your eyes,’ he said.

  I stiffened. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’ve bought something for you,’ he said, excitement in his tone of voice. What was it this time, I thought — a cushion for my stair lift?

  ‘Right,’ I said, covering my eyes with my hands. ‘Go ahead. Come in.’

  With my eyes covered, I imagined another hideous nightdress like mum’s, or some lingerie, or something so awful that I would want to shed my skin like a snake for feeling so grimy. But as dad placed it down on the bed, right over my ankles, my heart skipped a beat.

  I tore my hands away and stared down at it, my mouth spreading into the biggest grin I’d had in years. Even Dad was brimming with pride.

  ‘Five quid in a charity shop. I’ve not done badly, have I? There, that made you smile,’ he said.

  I couldn’t lie — it was the most genuine smile I’d worn since before Peter’s death. I stretched out my hand and stroked the scuffed wood. Then I fingered the strings, slid my hand along its neck. A soft hum vibrated up through my fingers.

  Dad couldn’t have possibly known, and I didn’t want him to. The guitar looked exactly like Peter’s.

  Chapter Eleven

  Peter still had some videos up on his old Youtube account, because nobody had thought to close it down. By the time Melanie called a couple of days later to tell me that David was going to come to my house to spend time with me, I’d already learned to strum a few tunes on my guitar. Not much, but after watching Peter for hours and hours, I’d managed to pick up on some basics.

  I’d never really been into guitar because I preferred watching Peter play, but there was nothing to do at the cottage and things just didn’t feel like they used to. This summer I was limited to watching the harbour out of my window, or listening to my iPo
d, or running another empty bath. At least by learning guitar, I could be that bit closer to Peter.

  It was Friday at four o’clock when David came. I’d dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black T–shirt, and I’d found a length of plum–red ribbon which I tied around my neck; Elle called it the “rock chick” look. I knew David was into that thing. I’d looked up a few women like Brody from The Distillers and Shirley Manson from Garbage just to get a few ideas. I was already waiting by the door, leaning on my stick despite the pain, when the knock came.

  I opened it and there was David.

  And there was Lauren.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, my hand still on the door. I could close it in her face if I wanted to.

  No, no, I thought — act natural. ‘Well you can come in too if you want, I suppose,’ I said, opening the door wide. They looked at one another. David pushed the small of her back and, sighing, she came in first.

  We went to the living room where I’d set up my little hi–fi CD player and had the TV on mute, just for background movement. I didn’t want to make David feel awkward if he couldn’t think of anything to say, or if he was still a bit nervous around me like he was that time in the car. But now that Lauren was here, that changed everything. He was hardly going to open up to me now.

  ‘So what made you want to come round?’ I asked, gesturing for Lauren and David to take an armchair each. I planted myself in the middle of the sofa. Lauren giggled at something, giving David another look, but he gave her a kick in the shin.

  David bit his lip and looked around the living room while Lauren watched him, waiting for him to answer. Eventually she answered for him. ‘Cause you’re having a hard time, so we thought we could come round and just...I don’t know, give you a bit of company.’

  ‘A hard time?’ I said, sorting through the CDS. I settled on a Pattie Smith CD of dad’s. I didn’t have a speaker for my iPod because it wasn’t one of those expensive ones and I only used music to fall asleep to anyway. The first song on the CD was Because the Night. I turned it down low. ‘How would you know about that?’ I gave David a hard look.

  I thought he must have told her all about the night Dennis was arrested and Peter died, but it wasn’t as bad as all that. Melanie was the one who had been talking. Of course she had, I realised. She’d arranged this whole gathering after all.

  Lauren blinked. ‘Because of what you did a few days ago. When you chucked yourself down the—’ David kicked her in the shin again, making her yelp. She slapped him on the arm.

  23% of abusive relationships become violent in the first six months, our survey concluded.

  ‘That’s not what happened. I sleepwalk. What, did Melanie tell you that?’

  ‘No!’ said David. ‘She didn’t say anything, I swear. Don’t report her for this, all right? She’s just trying to help.’

  ‘Wait a minute, are you saying the only reason you’re here is because she made you come?’

  ‘Not the only reason, no. Well, yeah, I mean—’ This time Lauren kicked him.

  ‘He doesn’t mean that,’ she said, her long white–blonde hair swinging over her narrow shoulder. She was wearing a black HIM band T–shirt today.

  ‘She said she was going to arrange for you to come over, but I didn’t think she was going to mention my accident. So this is just a sympathy visit?’

  ‘Ellen, come on. Let’s try and be civil,’ said David, resting his chin on his hand. He already looked bored and I couldn’t stand it. He’d been happier than this the first day we were reunited, and now I knew why he had been so cagey with me since.

  ‘Be civil? No we can’t. She’s made sure of that!’ I pointed at Lauren, who went pink in the cheeks.

  ‘I’m sorry, what?’ said David. ‘You’re starting on Lauren now?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, indignant. ‘I am. She’s changed you.’

  Lauren’s mouth dropped open. ‘You don’t know anything about him!’ she said, getting up. ‘God, he’s nice enough to come round even though you’re a bloody weirdo and look at the thanks he gets. I’m not putting up with this.’

  ‘I know we never used to get on that well, but you can’t deny that we have history,’ I said, ignoring her and focusing totally on David. Patti Smith sang in the background.

  ‘Oh right, history, yeah. You mean Pete, my mate Pete? Well he’s dead and he’s been dead for years. The only reason you’ve been bugging me since you got here is because you can’t let go of him. I’ve only entertained you because of him.’ David got up and stood with Lauren, grasping around for her hand. She folded her arms.

  I gasped. ‘That is not true! We’ve always known each other.’

  ‘I was willing to forget all that stuff with Dennis, even though it reeks,’ he said. ‘But I don’t care what Melanie says, there’s something wrong with you. There has always been something wrong with you.’

  ‘What do you mean it reeks?’ I said. ‘What the heck do you mean?’

  ‘That whole trial with Dennis reeked then and it still reeks now, and that’s all I’m saying,’ he said, his eyes firing up.

  ‘Are you suggesting I made it up?’

  ‘I’m saying it reeks.’ He moved as if to leave, then stopped abruptly. ‘And as for you ringing Lauren’s house, and mine, you better stop it or else. I know it was you. You’ve been doing it to me and now you’re ringing her, getting her mum all narked and everything.’

  ‘Oh, fat chance of me doing that. How would I get her number, eh?’

  ‘I’m sure you know how to use Facebook,’ he said, his eyes narrowing. ‘It doesn’t take a bloody genius. I mean what do you do all day, eh? What do you actually do with your time?’

  ‘Leave it,’ said Lauren, pulling him by the arm. ‘Let’s just go.’

  ‘No, no, she’s pissed me off now.’ He stood over me, waiting for his answer. ‘Well? ‘cause unless you spend all day long going up and down that horrible stair lift, then I’m willing to bet it’s you whose been ringing our houses. We’ve been getting emails too — lots of them, all anonymous. Know anything about those?’

  ‘We can’t prove it, Dave; let’s just leave her alone all right?’ Lauren tugged his arm again, but he snatched it away, his face reddening.

  ‘She’s right, you can’t prove it,’ I said, fighting away the tears. This was so unfair. Worse than unfair. ‘I don’t have her number or her email address, and I don’t know anything about this. As for what I do during the day, I...I play guitar.’ I gave him a sour smile.

  David laughed, making my blood turn cold. ‘Like Pete did? You know what, you sicken me, and so does that old man of yours. If anyone’s a nonce it’s him, not Dennis.’

  Lauren gasped, covering her mouth. She let go of his arm and stormed out of the room. I heard the front door slam.

  ‘You shut up about my dad,’ I said. I tried to look hurt, or appalled, or something, but I just couldn’t. Not at that. Instead I bowed my head and looked at my hands.

  ‘Yeah, well, you just keep away from us, all right? And anyway, I’ve got some news for you. Melanie tried telling you but as per usual you didn’t want to listen to anyone else but yourself. They’ve let Dennis out early for good behaviour.’

  ‘What?’ I said, startled. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘It was in the paper. Jesus, don’t you know anything?’

  ‘I don’t read the paper,’ I said, my heart thumping. Why didn’t I read the bloody paper?

  ‘Yeah, well, if he really was to blame then you won’t have anything to be scared of, will you? But he’s coming out of prison, and I can tell by the look on your face that you’re scared out of your wits.’

  He left, leaving me with my mute TV, Patti Smith, and a sick feeling in my gut.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was the summer I turned fourteen when Peter really got the hang of playing his acoustic, and for his fourteenth birthday, Diane and Dennis had bought him an electric guitar. As usual I was in London for his birthday — the twenty–second of March �
�� but he showed me his present via video link. It was a white Fender Stratocaster. I didn’t need telling who’d played a guitar just like it — his hero, Jimi Hendrix.

  I saw it up close that summer, on its stand in his little box bedroom. We sat on his bed while he played me a few songs, before Dennis showed up grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘Here you are, mate, a proper mini–Hendrix now aren’t you?’ he said, making Peter get bashful and stop strumming. ‘Go on, give us a bit of Foxey Lady.’ He nodded towards me, and this time I was the one getting bashful.

  Dennis was rough around the edges, and being in his late forties he was hardly someone I’d get a crush on. But I could tell that back in his day he’d been a looker in that cheeky–chappy sort of way, and seeing as he was an out–of–towner like me and dad I’d always felt pretty safe around him.

  ‘Sod off dad,’ said Peter, but he was smiling.

  ‘ ‘ere, don’t go giving me any of that cheek or we’ll take it straight back to the shop.’ He winked and made a clucking sound with his tongue. ‘Anyway, Dave’s on the phone downstairs.’

  I tightened my fists. That was typical of David, especially when he knew I was back in town for the summer. He was always trying to snatch Peter away from me; always trying to divert his attention, because his attention was all mine now.

  It was during this summer that I first acknowledged a sexual attraction towards Peter; a real one, not just a crush. I gazed longingly at his fingers resting on the neck of the guitar. I imagined him tracing those fingers down my neck, over my collarbone, down some more...

  ‘I’ll ring him back later, yeah? I haven’t seen Ell’ properly in ages,’ he told his dad, making me beam inside.

  ‘Oh right? Well that’s a first isn’t it, mate?’ he looked suspiciously between me and Pete, but he had a cocky smile that let us know he understood completely. ‘I’ll tell him, then, but I’m leaving this door open, all right? No funny business, you two.’