Dangerous to Know (5 page)

Damn. I could deal with Owen when I was pretty much the only one who’d seen him – then I could forget about it. But Sammy’s family knew too much about mine. What if Yvonne had seen Owen? What if she called Mum to tell her? The chances of Yvonne not mentioning me were too small to think about.

I shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve seen him already.” I smiled at her, turning on the charm. “Listen, Leila, all this is a bit kind of complicated.”

Leila nodded. “OK.” I think she guessed I wasn’t really meant to be there. “I won’t say anything to Mum and Dad. Take care, anyway. Sam owes you one.”

I didn’t think so. Sammy and Jono might have landed us in it, but they had given me a gift: a full two hours with Bethany. When six o’clock came and a load of students turned up to take over for the breakfast shift, Bethany turned to me and smiled, saying, “Come on. Come with me.”

We walked out into the grey light hand in hand.

We slept beneath a willow tree, wrapped in Yvonne’s picnic blanket, holding each other, and I don’t know why the Dream had to come back that night, when I was with Bethany. It’s not really a dream, either, that’s the wrong word because it actually happened. It’s just that sometimes it happens again while I’m sleeping: I go to another place, another time, but always the same moment.

I’m walking up the stairs but I’m not going to make it in time—

I sat up, shivering, sucking in great gasps of cold air. Outside somewhere. On the grass. Not there any more. As always, it took me a moment to remember. Someone was calling my name.

“Jack,” Bethany said. “Jack, what’s wrong? You’re shaking. Are you cold?”

She had the sense not to touch me. Instead she just sat at my side, drawing the picnic blanket closer. How did she know not to touch me – that I would freak out if she laid a finger on me? Mum found that out the hard way, the first time this happened. But Bethany just knew. My whole body was shuddering as if I’d been electrocuted: fingertips, knees, shoulders. I couldn’t stop. My back was cold with sweat. I had to concentrate on breathing or I would have just stopped.

It’s OK
, I told myself.
You got there in time. You made it.

I couldn’t look at her, just stared straight ahead. At last, the shaking ended. A tree root dug into my leg. I moved. Must have been about eight in the morning. A group of guys walked by, holding beers, arms slung around each other.

“Sorry,” I said. “Just a dream.” I knew that sounded ridiculous considering the state I was in, like saying a gale that ripped the tops off garden sheds and sent trees crashing through people’s greenhouses was nothing but a shower of rain.

Bethany lit a cigarette and passed it to me. “A bad dream. It’s OK,” she said. Not asking any questions. Amazing. At last, she rested her hand on my knee, warm, bringing me back into the world, away from it all. Away from the Creature, and what it did to Herod.

* * *

“What were you dreaming about, Jack?” said the counsellor (not mum, obviously, they had to get someone else in), a woman with hair dyed an unlikely red, and too many silver rings squeezed on to fat fingers. The rings bothered me; her fingers looked as if they were going to fall off like lambs’ tails when they’ve been docked. “It must have been a bad dream. You pushed your mother really hard when she tried to wake you, didn’t you? Do you want to tell me about it? It might make things better.”

I said nothing, just stared out of the window. I could see our car parked outside, beneath a tree shedding its leaves.

The counsellor pushed a pile of blank paper towards me, some coloured pencils. “Some people find it helpful to draw what they see in their dreams,” she said. “Try it if you like.”

How old does she think I am? Five?
I wondered. I stared out of the window and said nothing.

I felt as though Bethany could see right through me, that somehow she just knew.

I didn’t mind.

We arrived back in town victorious. When Jono, Sammy, Bethany and I all parted in the park on Sunday afternoon in the rain, we even had a group hug. God, it had been good. We were all high with delight.

Bethany smiled at Jono and Sammy, wheeling her bike. I was amazed it hadn’t been nicked, locked up at the station all weekend. “Thanks so much for letting me come with you,” she said. “I loved it.”

Jono shrugged and muttered, “It’s not as if we had much choice.” But then he flipped open a pack of Lucky Strikes and offered her the second-to-last one before lighting up himself, so I knew he was over it. He’d accepted her.

“No worries,” Sammy said. “Mum was well impressed. She’ll probably be up for letting you and Jack work at Glastonbury.” He laughed. “Not sure about me and Jono, though. We did slack off a bit, to be fair.”

“Glastonbury,” Bethany said. “That would be amazing.” But then her smile disappeared and I knew she was thinking about her dad.

I squeezed her hand tighter. “We’ll definitely be there,” I said. “Will you be all right getting home? Shall I walk you?”

Bethany shook her head, smiling. “It’s too far. I’ll be OK on my bike.”

I took her hand and we walked away from the others, kissing beneath the tall dark trees, her bike propped between us. I could have stayed for hours but she pulled away.

“I’ll phone you,” she called over her shoulder, black hair flying out like a flag as she pedalled away. “Bye, Jack.”

I thought we were so unstoppable. I thought this would never end.

I didn’t go straight home. Mum and Louis were in France till Wednesday and once Bethany had ridden off across the park, I felt kind of hollow and depressed.

“Come back to mine,” Sammy said. “We’ll watch a film.”

Jono yawned and said his mum would have dinner ready soon and sloped off across the park in the opposite direction from Bethany.

So it was about half eight by the time I reached the top of our street. Even from there, I could see the sitting-room light was on, a yellow glow against the light evening sky of mid-summer.

This could only mean one thing: Mum and Louis were back early. For a moment, I had this spooky, shivery feeling that maybe Owen had come home, but I pushed that away. He wouldn’t. He was in the country again, there was no denying that, but I knew there was still some action at the festival – it didn’t officially close till Monday morning. Owen was never the kind to leave a party early. No, if the lights were on, my parents were back. The question was, how long had they been home for? If it was only a couple of hours, I’d be fine. Any longer and things might be sticky.

They were sticky.

When I got in I closed the door behind me, super quietly. I’m good at that. I stood in the hallway, listening. Mum’s brown leather handbag was hanging over the banister at the bottom of the stairs. The faint scent of one of Louis’ Gauloises drifted through from the sitting room, and with it came a muddle of voices, some of which I didn’t recognize. And some of which I did. I heard Mum and Louis. And I heard Bethany.

Something had gone wrong, badly, but they still didn’t know I was here.
I could leg it now
, I thought.
Come back later when the fallout’s less intense.
But Bethany was in there. I wasn’t about to leave her to ride this out on her own.

We’d been found out.

I went in. Bethany was sitting on the sofa between 1664 – wearing expensive clothes and an expression that would kill a rat – and a bald-headed man with dark circles beneath his eyes. His face was narrow, clever-looking. Bethany’s dad. You could tell straight away how sick he’d been. He was so thin, and he had the far-off expression in his eyes of a traveller, someone who has seen places you can’t even imagine.

Bethany looked at me; I looked at her. She was still in her pink dress, but the green coat had been replaced with a huge, tasselled cardigan, the wellies with cowboy boots. Even then, I wanted to hold her.

Mum was in the armchair, Louis leaning against the back of it. It wasn’t Louis who was smoking: it was Mum. She hadn’t touched one for nearly four years. Why the hell had they come back from France early? There was something else going on, something bigger than the nasty little drama in our sitting room.

Louis broke the silence. “Jack?”

Bethany shook her head, very slightly.
Let them do the talking.
I knew exactly what she was trying to tell me.

Mum turned to look at me. A strand of her sandy, curly hair had escaped from its ponytail and she tucked it behind her ear. When she spoke I knew instantly that she was furious but not with me. Bit of a surprise, considering. Then who?

“Bethany’s parents would like us to tell you not to see her again,” she said.

I stared past them all, my eyes meeting Bethany’s. No way. I hadn’t even met her stupid parents yet. Bethany’s eyes had that hot, burning look again. Was she going to cry?

I thought of not seeing her tomorrow, and the day after that, or the day after that, for ever, and I started to panic; it was like the walls of the room were closing in on me.

“No! You can’t do that.” The words spewed out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “You don’t understand!”

“Mum,
please
,” Bethany whispered, frantically. “I’m sorry I lied to you about the festival, but that wasn’t Jack’s fault—”

“I’ve heard enough, thank you,” 1664 snapped. She turned, giving me absolute daggers. “Luckily, Bethany’s friend’s mother was responsible enough to tell us about your little jaunt.” It was a dig at Mum, hinting that she’d known about the festival and gone along with it.

Mands’ cousin from the girls’ school – Amelia – she must have blabbed to someone about what we’d been up to.

I turned to Mum. “Come on, this isn’t fair,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, steady. “I know I should have asked about the festival, too, but—”

Mum just shook her head, silently telling me to shut up.

“I’d like your assurance, Caroline, that your son won’t be bothering my daughter again,” said 1664.

Bothering
her daughter? Like I was some kind of creepy stalker.
Pompous bitch!
I couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“After all,” 1664 went on, “I’m sure you’ll understand that I don’t want Bethany involved in drugs after what happened to your poor son. I don’t want her mixed up with mental illness.”

You could have heard a feather drop.

“Angela,” Bethany’s dad said, quietly, “that’s none of our business.”

“Well, I think it is our business at the moment,” 1664 said, voice tight and angry. “Unfortunately.”

Bethany put both hands over her mouth, blatantly horrified at her mother’s stupid, big mouth. So she did know, then – about Herod – and in that horrible moment I loved her all the more because she hadn’t said a word to me about it.

It’s true
, I thought.
That’s what this is – I love her. I
love
her
.

I looked up; she was watching me. Our eyes locked together. She felt the same. I knew it. I wanted to run across the room and hold her; I wanted to never let go.

And now it was all coming to an end.

Mum put down her cigarette, letting it rest in the ashtray on the windowsill. Her hand was shaking slightly. I could tell she was really angry but holding it in, trying to be reasonable: far scarier than someone just letting rip.

“Jack is not a drug user.” She spoke in this awful, calm voice. “And I’m not sure if you realize, Angela, that mental illness isn’t actually contagious.”

Bethany’s mum was looking confused now, embarrassed. “That – that’s not what I meant.”

“And even if Jack were using,” Mum went on, “I would hope that he trusted us enough to ask for help.”

OK, so I felt pretty guilty then. Everyone was quiet. No one dared interrupt.

“Let me tell you,” Mum said, “the worst thing is when your child is suffering and they don’t come to you. Believe me, that’s when you really blame yourself.”

A thick, nasty silence stretched on.

Bethany started to cry, silently. Tears streamed down her face.

“I think you’d better go now, Mr and Mrs Jones,” Louis said, quietly.

1664 looked away, sharply, staring blankly out of the window.

“Of course,” Bethany’s dad said. “We should go. I’m sorry to have intruded on your evening.” He did look properly ill. Really tired, as if every movement was a massive effort. He smiled at me. “Listen, Jack, I know this is hard to accept, but we feel that as Beth just started a new school last term, she really needs to concentrate on her GCSEs at the moment. You’ll all be going into Year Eleven in September.” He got to his feet, leaning heavily on the chair. He patted her on the shoulder. “We’ll leave you to it. I really am sorry about all this.” You could tell he meant what he’d said.

I watched in a kind of daze as they herded her out of the door. Bethany turned to me. She looked paler than ever; her eyes were dark holes. I’ve never seen anyone look so scared. If her dad died, she’d be left with no one but her mother. I saw it in her face, clear as if she’d just told me. And then, the next second, I saw something else: defiance. They weren’t going to stop us. They couldn’t. I made myself smile, standing there in the middle of all this. I smiled at her so she knew I wouldn’t let her down.

The front door closed with a click, leaving behind a sickly cloud of Angela’s perfume.

“Idiot woman,” Louis said, quietly, as if to himself. “Honestly, you’d think they’d want the girl to make friends in a new town, not shut her away.”

Mum turned to me. Oh, God, she was pissed off but so was I.

“But they’re not just friends, are they? Jack, what is going on?” she demanded.

“I like her, OK?” I shouted. “I met her at a party and she’s my girlfriend. I don’t have to tell you everything. How could you just let them do that? What century do you think we’re living in?”

“Oh, shut up!” Mum sounded exhausted. “What did you think you were doing, going off to a festival with a young girl you hardly know without even asking our permission?”

“I’m really sorry, OK. I just wanted to go, and I was afraid you’d say no. There was no harm in it.”

“No harm in it?” Mum snapped. “Oh, clearly not, Jack. It’s all absolutely fine, isn’t it?”