Dangerous to Know (15 page)

I lay on the bed, staring up at the white ceiling, and laughed at myself.

What are you thinking, you idiot? You’re practically under house arrest. Stop worrying about how you and Bethany are getting to Glastonbury: how the hell are you going to get out of this mess?

Still wearing my pirate outfit, I eased myself off the bed and lurched to the door. Every muscle in my body screamed and shrieked.

I waited before opening the door, listening. Now I remembered being escorted up more than one flight of stairs, a dimly lit corridor, someone pushing me along. That must have been him. My father. I wondered what had been going through his mind, thinking about the last time I’d seen him, nearly two years ago. It had been in London, just before the Easter holidays. I got a day off school. I went down with Mum on the train, but I met Dad alone. We had lunch in a restaurant with no prices listed on the menu, near the Apple headquarters where he’d been going for meetings. He asked the normal questions about school and gave me a hundred quid, all according to the usual rules of engagement.

Why should he suddenly care?

If Herod had just bothered to call, none of this would have happened. All right, Mum would still have been angry about the party, but the fact she’d spent the entire evening in a mortuary hadn’t exactly helped.

Thanks a lot, mate
, I thought.
It’s bad enough that Mum thinks I’m going to lose the plot if I even look at a spliff.

If Mum and Louis hadn’t come back from France in a huge panic because Herod was missing, they might have even taken my side against Bethany’s bitch of a mother, too.

But what if Herod hadn’t called because he couldn’t? There was no way of ignoring the question. If the Creature had come back, Herod might be anywhere, doing anything. What if he’d tried to hurt someone? That’s what everyone said he’d done last time. Maybe now he really had. He could already have been involuntarily sectioned, like before, held in some awful hospital ward, blood pumped full of drugs that made him shake and dribble.

I couldn’t figure out why Dad was doing this to me. It was Herod he’d come looking for – and he’d only done that because Herod out of the Peace Centre meant that a cog had come loose in the machine. A situation that needed to be managed. Dealt with.

Come on Herod
, I thought.
Just call someone. Let them know you’re OK, and we can all go back to normal.

I stood holding the door handle. It didn’t look good. It was over a week since Herod’s friend Andrea had phoned Sabine in Paris. I pictured Louis’ tiny, grey-haired mother frowning as she put down the telephone. Picking up the receiver again, dialling.

But how would Herod even know that Andrea had called Sabine, and that we had all descended into a full-on panic? He’d probably got no idea we even knew he’d left.

I thought of Andrea – her long frizzy hair, the annoying chumminess. A bit too eager to please.
Anyone for carrot cake? Tea? I’m making one.
Hanging round when really she should have left us all to it. Herod smiling, saying,
I think we’re all good. Thanks, though, Andy.

But it didn’t matter what little stories I told myself. The truth was we had no idea why Herod had disappeared, or where he might have gone.

I felt as if I was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump. I pushed open the door.

The house was quiet, the hall floorboards had been polished: butter-yellow and shining, they gave off a faint scent of lavender. The walls were lined with bookcases. I stopped and looked at the spines.
Theory of Economics
.
The Essence of Being
. Thirty-year-old university textbooks, left lining the hallways of a house nobody came to. Further on, a wooden African mask stared at me from the wall. Now I could hear people talking. I stopped before I reached the top of the stairs, letting out a long breath. Just the radio.

When I found the kitchen – all gleaming stainless steel – I realized the house wasn’t empty, after all. A slight, wiry woman with caramel-coloured hair lay on the sofa, reading a newspaper. Slowly, she lowered it and stared at me, mouth slightly open. She wore all black. There was something feline about the way she moved. Her bare arms were lean, muscled.

“You must be Jack. You can’t be the other one. You’re too young.” She looked bored.

And you must be one of his many girlfriends
, I thought, but said nothing.

The woman shrugged, turning back to her paper. “There’s coffee in the pot. Make yourself at home.” She didn’t introduce herself. She just assumed I knew who she was.

Great. Thanks for reminding me that although the man who owns this house is my father, I’m here as a guest. Or is it as a prisoner?

I poured coffee into a cup from a stainless steel jug, drank it black and sugarless. My head was getting clearer every second. I wondered how long they’d been together.

It was one in the afternoon, according to the digital clock on the stove. What was the scene like at Bethany’s? It wasn’t going to be pretty. I wished I was with her somewhere far away from all this. Where could we go? I just wanted to escape with her.

“Where is he?” I asked.

Dad’s girlfriend put down her paper, stared at me again, a slight look of disbelief crossing her face.

“London,” she said, as if I should have known. “There’s a list of homeless shelters.”

I put down the coffee cup and walked out of the kitchen.

It was pretty weird, having a teacher make you a cup of tea. But Trelawney did it anyway.

“Three sugars.” He put the striped mug on the desk in front of me and sighed. “Oh, for the days I didn’t have to watch my love handles.”

Nice.

I nodded my thanks, uncomfortable in the new clothes. Dad’s girlfriend – Alicia, apparently – had unloaded a pile of glossy plastic bags onto my bed late on Sunday afternoon.

“He asked me to get you these. I had to guess your size but I doubt I’m wrong, darling.” The kind of person who calls everyone “darling” even if they’d rather see you run over by an articulated lorry.

I think that was the moment I felt the first real stab of fear. There were a lot of clothes in those bags – expensive, boring stuff I’d never normally wear.
How long am I meant to be staying here?
I thought.

“So,” Trelawney went on, and then stopped. It was half nine on Monday morning. Everyone else was in Geography and possibly for the first time ever I wished I was, too. “Don’t worry about not being in uniform today. Or the lack of homework – till tomorrow, anyway. I’ve told the rest of the staff you’re staying with your dad…”

A silent question lingered in the air. And there wasn’t even time to throw a few clothes into a bag? Pick up some books?

“Anyway,” Mr Trelawney went on, “when I spoke to your father this morning he said a car would come to collect you at the end of the school day.” He frowned. “I gather he won’t be here himself.” Trelawney shook his head and I could tell he didn’t like it any more than I did. “Listen, Jack, last week I left some money in my desk. It’s gone.”

Suddenly, I felt totally cold.

“And there’s something else as well,” Trelawney went on. “Mrs Hannay has been looking everywhere for her new television, but it seems to have completely vanished from the school building. Apparently there aren’t any signs of a break-in. It’s all very strange.”

He didn’t actually say it:
You took my money. You took Mrs Hannay’s TV.
But he knew. He knew.

Stay cool
, I told myself.
Just stay cool. He’s got no proof.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had money stolen by a student,” Trelawney went on. “Actually, the last time it happened, it was your brother, Herod.”

“He was sick,” I said. “He didn’t know what he was doing.”

Trelawney nodded, slowly, never taking his eyes off me. “Are you sure you’re all right, Jack? All this business with your father must be quite disruptive.”

It was a warning. I understood.
Do it again and I’ll tell your parents.
He wanted me to talk but I didn’t have anything to say. Not to him: there was only one person I wanted and she wasn’t there.

I said all I needed to when Jono and Sammy found me at break. Trelawney had let me go just as they were leaving Geography; we went straight to the back field, sat down beneath the trees by the far fence, and Sammy gave me a fag. I smoked for a few moments in silence, heart still pounding, and then told them what had happened. Everything.

They stared at me. At last Jono said, “Are you serious? Your dad just, like,
forced
you to go with him? That’s like something out of medieval times. We couldn’t find you anywhere. We did look.”

“We shouldn’t have left without you,” Sammy muttered. “I knew we shouldn’t. You should’ve come over to mine. Bloody hell. I can’t believe your dad did that. What a tosser.” He stared down at the grass. “I hope your brother’s OK, Jack. That’s pretty dark, the police and everything. I can’t believe your mum had to look at an actual dead body.”

I blew out a cloud, dizzy with the nicotine rush. “Look, I don’t even care about my dad, OK? He’ll get bored of looking for Herod soon and I’ll go home, and it’ll all be cool.”

“I mean, what are the police even doing?” Sammy went on.

“Herod’s an adult,” I said. “It’s not like a kid going missing, is it? It’s not illegal. The cops searched the place he lives, the gardens and stuff, but no one’s out in a helicopter looking for him.”

Jono’s eyes suddenly widened. “What about Glastonbury?” he blurted. “There’s no way your dad’s going to let you go, is there?”

“Look,” Sammy said, “maybe my mum could call him, tell him you’ll be working and stuff—”

I shook my head, impatient. None of this was important. Dad might have his opinion about whether I was going to Glastonbury or not, but that was all it was – an opinion. I wasn’t going to let his opinion make any difference to what I actually did.

“It’s Bethany I’m bothered about,” I said, “I need to know what happened.” I told them about the horrible scene with her mother.

“That’s not good,” Sammy said. “Bethany’s mum’ll be watching her like a hawk now. How’s she going to come with us? Do you reckon she’ll get away with it? Mum’s going to be pissed off if she’s got to mess around with the rota.”

“I’m going over there at lunchtime.” I sucked in the last drag of my cigarette and ground out the stub. “St Agnes’s.”

Jono shook his head. “You’ll never get a pass out. No way. Not with all this going on. Trelawney won’t sign it off. It’s not like you can just walk in to St Agnes’s, either. There’s those gates, too.”

But Sammy had already got it. “You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?”

“Oh, God,” Jono said. “Just don’t tell us anything else. Don’t even say a word.”

“Don’t worry,” I told him kindly. “What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”

It was pretty amazing, really, but I walked out of school at lunchtime and that was it. No one tried to stop me. I wasn’t even in uniform – which was like a massive arrow pointing over my head – but nobody noticed. I just left. St Agnes’s is in the middle of town, in what used to be a nunnery – we call it the Virgin Megastore. It’s set back from the road, a sprawling timber-framed building behind iron gates with a load of shiny new sports halls out the back on the playing fields. The gates were locked, obviously, and the sweeping lawn leading up to the front door was dotted with groups of glossy-haired girls in burgundy skirts and blazers, sitting on the grass in peaceful little groups, or wandering around arm in arm. It looked more like a stately home than a school. It’s amazing how civilized girls are. Everything was so calm and peaceful.

There was a bin just next to the gate. Standing on top of it, I climbed over the wall and dropped down into the hallowed grounds of St Agnes’s School for Girls. I had, I estimated, about five minutes before a teacher saw me or one of the Virgins panicked and called one.

I walked up to the first group of girls I saw and said, “Where’s Bethany Jones?”

They couldn’t have been any older than twelve. They just stared at me, looking really freaked out, till one of them said, “She and Amelia normally hang out under the cherry trees. Just over there.”

I followed her gaze. There she was. Bethany. Running towards me, black hair loose everywhere. Watched by two hundred schoolgirls, we held each other as if no one else was there.

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” she whispered into my ear. She looked tired, dark rings beneath her eyes. “What are you doing? They’ll tell my parents and that really can’t happen now—”

I thought she was talking about her mum and the party, but she wasn’t.

“I’m not staying,” I said. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Just for a few hours” I was past the point of caring what happened next.

“No, listen, it’s my dad. We thought he’d just overdone it going to the party, but it’s not that. He’s not well. He’s gone back to hospital again. A different one this time – in London.” Her voice sounded thin, brittle.

She wasn’t leaving.

Her dad was going to die.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “Don’t.” I wasn’t going to promise her that everything would be all right, though. I just held her tighter. She had it worse than me. She loved her dad and he was dying. I only hated mine.

“I must see you. I’ll come to yours tonight. I’ll sneak out.”

“You can’t.” And I told her what had happened, what my dad had done.

Bethany started to cry. “He can’t do that to you. It’s not fair.” I knew she wasn’t really talking about my father when she said that, but her own. “It’s really not fair. When am I going to see you, then?”

I smiled, even though I was holding her close to my chest and she couldn’t see. “Glastonbury,” I told her. “At the Veggie Café, the Green Fields. Eleven on Friday night. Don’t be late.”

“All right,” she whispered. “I’ll be there.” She smiled, even though she was crying. “You know what? Dad actually persuaded Mum to let me go. He said, ‘Because you’re only young once.’”

I smiled at her. “He’s a really nice guy. But whatever happens,” I went on, “I promise I won’t leave you. OK?”