Cassie (14 page)

Mum gaped. Aunty Fern looked at Holly as if she couldn't quite place who she was. For once, Cassie was quiet. The kitchen clock ticked. Even then, for a second or two, Holly thought the atmosphere of stunned surprise was due to the way she looked. The black dress with the asymmetric hem, her red leather shoes and silver, hooped earrings. Her spiked urchin cut with subtle burgundy highlights. Demi had applied her make-up. Holly scarcely recognised herself.

But she recognised the emotions that washed across her mother's face, one after another. Surprise, followed by relief. Then, a flooding dark flush of anger. Her mum broke away from Aunty Fern, took a pace or two towards Holly and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. Holly closed the front door.

‘Cass wants to go to her room,' said Aunty Fern. ‘She needs to practise.'

Practise getting into her room?
thought Holly.

No one said anything. Fern wheeled Cass out of the kitchen. Holly caught a glimpse of dark curls, brown eyes that brushed hers and then were gone.

There were faint silver traces of tears on her mother's cheeks, dried like snail's tracks. And still she said nothing. It was as if she was swollen, tight with feeling.

‘Mum,' said Holly. ‘I'm sorry.'

And her words pricked the balloon.

Cassie

I burst another heart.

Others are bursting elsewhere. Mine gives a dull plop. The others
are pierced with pain. They make my cursor shake.

I shuffle the pictures in my head and there is Holly at the door.

Her eyes are full. Fear and joy battle, but I cannot tell which wins.

She is beautiful.

The dress made of night, the hair spiked with excitement, the
eyes flooded in conflict.

She is beautiful.

Her wings are folded against her. Light and grace flash from
them. I cannot find mine. I think I will never find mine.

I burst another heart.

Holly

‘Where the hell have you been?' Holly's mother's words were engorged with anger.

‘Shopping.'

‘Shopping.' The word came out of her mother's mouth with a laugh. ‘You've been shopping. Well, that's excellent, Holly. I hope you had fun. I truly hope you had a fine time.'

Holly said nothing.

‘So, what? You went straight from school to the shopping centre, is that it? Gave Fern and Cassie the slip and took off at the end of lessons?'

Holly shifted from foot to foot. The atmosphere in the kitchen was fractured yet still fragile. She wanted to put the bags down, but she didn't dare move. She knew any slight movement would cause a landslide.

‘Yes.'

‘You are a liar, Holly Holley.'

‘Fine.'

‘Oh, for goodness sake, Holly.' Ivy put her face in her hands and scrubbed at her temples. ‘You wag school, disappear for hours without letting anyone know where you are, let us think you might be lying dead somewhere, come home looking like a tart and then lie to me.' Her voice started to break. ‘I'm stunned. I thought you were a different kind of daughter. I thought I could trust you.'

‘Who told you I was wagging?'

‘I talked to Amy, Holly. You know? When I was mad with worry, driving around, trying to find you. You've been gone since lunchtime. Lunchtime. Maybe earlier for all I know. Did you go to any lessons today?'

‘Yes!' Holly couldn't keep indignation out of her voice. How could Amy have dobbed her in? How could she do that? ‘I only missed maths in the afternoon.'

‘Only maths! Well, I suppose I'll have to take your word for that. Difficult, though, now I know you're a liar.'

‘Ask Amy, then. Ask Miss Perfect. She'll tell you and maybe you'll believe
her
.'

‘YOU SIT DOWN. NOW!' Holly had never heard her mother yell like that before. Her heart thundered in her chest. She took three faltering steps to the kitchen table and sat. The shopping bags gathered around her ankles.

‘Don't you
dare
blame Amy for telling the truth,' continued Ivy. ‘I'm just grateful someone did. Have you any idea, any idea at all, what you've put me through? What you've put Fern and Cassie through?'

‘I said I was sorry.'

‘That's not good enough, Holly. Not good enough at all. Your apology is not accepted.'

‘Fine. I'll go to my room, then. Or rather, I'll go to the spare room. Mine's taken.'

‘You're going nowhere. Not until we're done.'

‘What do you want from me, Mum? What do you want?'

Holly's voice rose. She could sense the anger colouring her words and was powerless to do anything about it.

‘What do I want?' Ivy's laugh was bitter and hostile. ‘How about the truth? How about a little bit of consideration? Is that too much to ask?'

‘I can't do anything more than say I'm sorry.'

‘I thought you were dead, Holly.' Ivy's voice sounded as though it was stretched with pain, almost to the point of snapping. ‘I thought you were dead. Have you any idea how that feels?'

Holly said nothing. Ivy brushed impatiently at her cheeks, spreading the tears so her entire face glistened. She sniffed and the sound was liquid. She wiped her nose with her arm.

‘When I left for work today, I had a daughter,' she said. ‘She was truthful, funny and loving. Now I see a liar, a tramp, someone so hateful that she couldn't even be bothered to make a phone call. Someone who must have known I'd be going crazy with worry, but didn't care. I'll tell you what I want, Holly. I want my daughter back.'

Holly could feel the tears gather. They swelled and clung to her eyelashes for a moment. She blinked them back. She would not give her mother the satisfaction. She stayed still, until she could trust her voice.

‘A liar, a tramp. Hateful,' she said. ‘Maybe it would have been better if I was dead.'

Holly felt like a fighter on the brink of exhaustion, too tired to summon another punch. Her eyes met her mother's, but with little recognition. Their silence was the silence of strangers.

Holly

My name is Holly Holley and I am a liar and a thief.

It is just past midnight and I can hear Mum and Aunty Fern talking in the kitchen.

No prizes for guessing the subject matter
, I think. Holly the Daughter from Hell. The Liar, the Tramp, the Hateful Spawn of Satan. I put the pillow over my head to block out the dim murmur of voices. But the voices in my head? They are loud and clear. So I get out of bed and pull on my dressing gown. The door creaks slightly as I crack it open, but there is no break in the conversation. They are too busy picking over the flaws in my character to notice.

I creep along the dark corridor until the voices come into focus. If anyone comes out from the kitchen, I'll have time to get back into the bedroom. Maybe. Anyway, it's a chance I am willing to take. I don't normally listen into other people's private conversations, but in this case I figure I deserve to hear what's being said about me.

As it turns out, they are talking about Cass. Mostly.

‘I could hear her crying,' says Mum. I know she's not talking about me. There's been no tears from me.

‘I'm surprised you could hear anything, the amount of shouting going on in here.' Aunty Fern's voice is smiling. I can hear it. ‘Don't worry about Cass. She's made of stern stuff. And she always gets a little upset after talking on the phone to her dad. I mean, it's great he rings. But every night? I'm not sure it's helpful, but I don't know how to tell him.'

‘It's not that,' Mum says. ‘We upset her. Me and Holly.'

‘It's been upsetting for everyone.'

I agree.

‘Oh, dear!' Mum's voice rises sharply. ‘No one has eaten. You must be starving. And poor Cass.'

Never mind Holly
, I think. I don't count anymore. Aunty Fern and Cassie are the ones who count. My anger starts to flare again and I miss part of what Fern says next.

‘. . . all the excitement, food hasn't crossed my mind.'

‘You think I've been too hard on her, don't you?'

This is what I have been waiting for. I go to pull back my hair from my left ear and then realise that I don't have long hair anymore. I lean slightly closer towards the kitchen. There is a pause and then Fern's voice is calm and quiet.

‘Do you remember getting that tattoo, sis?'

Mum's tattoo? What has that got to do with anything?

‘Oh, Fern, don't remind me,' says Mum.

‘What did it say originally?'

The kitchen is quiet. The clock ticks.

‘Ross,' says Mum. ‘Under the rose it said “Ross”. How embarrassing! Do you remember Ross?'

‘How could I forget him? Tall, good-looking, athletic.'

‘Yes. I was so in love with him.'

I've never heard of this guy.

‘I talked him into it. We went to the tattoo parlour together. He had “Ivy” tattooed on his arm, beneath this horrible vine that was supposed to represent me, I guess. And I went for a rose. I should have just had a thorn. When I think back to how many other girls he was juggling at that time, I'm surprised there was room on his biceps for me. By now, he won't have an inch of spare skin.'

They laugh. I groan.

‘How old were you?'

‘Sixteen. He broke my heart. And I had to go back and get “Ross” changed to “Rose”.'

‘Yes,' says Fern.

This is getting interesting after all. There is a long pause before Mum speaks again.

‘I understand now,' she says. ‘I see what you're up to.'

‘Mum was so angry,' says Aunty Fern. ‘She didn't speak to you for a month. She even went round to Ross's house and gave him a piece of her mind. After that, the tattoo parlour. That huge guy who used to run it. One hundred and forty kilos of tattooed blubber sitting there like a kid who'd just been caught stealing a lollipop from the corner shop. Reduced him to tears. Boy, after that he'd ask for ID from his own grandmother.'

‘She was fierce, our mum.'

‘And you, throughout it all, saying, “But I love him, Mum. I'm not a kid anymore. I love him.”'

‘I was an idiot.'

‘You were sixteen and in love. You wanted to be a grown-up woman, and Mum was saying you were just a kid.'

‘She was right.'

‘Maybe she was. But that didn't alter your behaviour then, did it? You didn't suddenly go, “Hey, you're right. I'm a child.” You were trying on adulthood for size, seeing what it felt like in different clothes. We all did that, sis. In our own way. And that's what Holly's doing now. At least her haircut will grow out, which is more than can be said for your tattoo.'

Woohoo,
I think.
Let's hear it for Aunty Fern.

‘I hate you sometimes,' says Mum.

‘That's because I'm always right.'

There's a rumble as a chair is pushed back. I take a step or two towards my room and then pause. I can hear the tap running. The tea cups clink in the sink. When the sound of running water stops I catch the tail end of their conversation.