Haunting of Lily Frost (2 page)

2

breaking the news

Dinner on Mondays is usually something out of a tin, because no one's got around to doing the shopping after the weekend. Tonight, though, when I walk into the house with Ruby, it smells good. But instead of making me happy, it's making me suspicious. The only reason Mum would be bothering to cook something edible, is if she's got news that we're not going to like. She believes we'll be more receptive to bad news if she softens it with sweet stuff.

‘You cooking, Mum?'

‘Yes, honey.'

So she's not just cooking with sugar, she's calling me sugary names too. Now I'm really worried about what this all means. She spies Ruby lurking behind me, and frowns. She doesn't usually frown when she sees Ruby, so that's another tick in the odd-box.

‘Can Ruby stay for dinner?'

‘Um, not tonight.'

‘Why?'

‘I'm cooking your favourite.'

‘Cool. But it's Ruby's favourite too.'

Ruby must sense I'm about to start a fight, because she frowns, trying to raise her eyebrow and give me a message. When I look away, refusing to take a hint, she knows it means I'll persist, so she tries diplomacy instead.

‘Lil, it's fine. I'll stay for a bit and then go home for tea,' she says politely.

‘Mum, please.'

Ruby's always at my house. She eats with us at least four nights a week. It started after her dad died, and her mum had to work late some nights, then it just sort of stayed that way, and Mum and Dad have never seemed to mind feeding her till now.

‘Sorry, Ruby, but tonight we need to have a family discussion.'

Alarm bells are ringing in my head as Mum says this. What could it mean? If Ruby leaves there'll be no witnesses and they can say anything they like.

‘Ruby's like family. If she can't stay then I'm going to eat in my room.'

Before Mum can really get stuck into the argument that's probably brewing, the timer on the stove goes off and she jumps. I'm sure I hear her swear as she opens the oven. The cake she pulls out is my favourite – normally. But this time it's burnt. All crusty and black on top and saggy in the middle.

Mum looks at it and starts to cry. She doesn't even try to shield us from it, and if it was anyone other than
Ruby standing next to me, I'd be really embarrassed. Ruby
nudges me and I realise I should do something. Like try to comfort her. I shuffle up close and put my arm around her shoulder.

‘It's okay, Mum. I don't care if it's burnt. I like burnt cakes. They taste more interesting.'

This just makes her cry more. I look at Ruby to see if she's got any ideas, but she just shrugs. My mum never cries. I don't know what to do. ‘Has something happened?'

She looks at me sharply when I say that and I notice how grey her hair is getting at the front.

‘Lil, there's no good way to say this. We're moving to the country.'

She's joking. I don't know why I think so, but I start to laugh. She's not laughing, though, so it's clearly not something she's said to be funny. I keep on laughing.

‘It's not funny, Lil. We were going to tell you tonight. We've bought an old house and we're moving.'

At this point, that sense of being under water, suffocating and sinking, floods back and there's nowhere to go. There's just my mum's face and her words, slamming into me. When I spin round, Ruby looks white. She reaches for my hand and pulls me towards her.

But Mum hasn't finished. ‘I'm sorry. But this house, it's –' she stumbles.

‘Ours.' I raise my eyebrows.

‘“Expensive” is what I was going to say. With your dad being out of work over the past year, we can't afford the mortgage.'

‘He'll get a new job.' I sound really whiney.

‘Maybe. Maybe not. But we want to make some
changes. We think it'll be good for all of us.'

‘How? How can it be good? It's not good for me.'

‘I know you think that now—'

‘No, Mum. I don't think that. I
know
that. This is my home. I love this house. I'm not leaving.'

‘Let's talk about it later, when your father comes home,' she says softly.

‘Why?'

‘Because he wants to be part of the conversation, too.'

At this point, all our yelling triggers something in my brother Max, because he wanders into the kitchen in that slouchy way of his and opens the fridge, looking for something to eat.

‘Did you hear what Mum just said?' I'm hoping to get a reaction. ‘We're moving to the country.'

Shutting the fridge door and holding a plate of cold sausages, he shrugs. ‘Is it beach country or country country?'

‘How would I know? Maybe Mum can tell us all about it, now that her little secret's out.'

Mum stares past me, maybe at the door, hoping Dad will come home from wherever he is and take over the difficult bits of this conversation. Now that she's broken the news, she doesn't want to go into the details.

‘Mum?'

‘It's country country. About two hours away.'

‘Two hours!' I slam out of the kitchen, smash my way through the house to my bedroom, which is down the back, away from the others. And I've never been happier about that. The further away I can get from Mum the better. As I throw myself on the bed, Jasper, my cat, leaps up after me and nuzzles in under my stomach. He always knows when I need someone, but tonight nothing's going to work.

Trailing after me, Ruby shuts the door as she comes in and surprises me. I'd forgotten she was even there.

‘Lil …'

‘What?' It comes out sharper than I mean it to.

‘I didn't see that coming,' she says quietly.

‘Why would they –'

‘I dunno.'

‘But what about me?' Even to myself, I sound pathetic.

‘It's okay.'

She sits down on the bed and leans into me, trying to get me back, but I'm gone – already sinking down inside my head with angry thoughts about running away.

‘It's not, Rubes.'

‘No. It's not great, but it could be worse.'

‘How?'

She smiles. ‘You could be dead.'

‘How would that be worse? At least then I wouldn't have to move
.
'

She takes my hand. ‘Moving to the country might even be good.'

She's my best friend, but I hate anyone telling me things are going to be okay when they don't know they are. I just want it straight; not Ruby trying to be positive.

‘How will it be good? Moving away? A new school. New house. New everything. How is that good?'

She sighs then and wraps her muscly arms around me, not quite reaching all the way. I really want to cry, but I haven't got any tears.

Ruby's left; she's not stupid. She knows it might not be one of our happier family dinners, so she's escaped, even though Mum's made lasagne. Normally this would excite me, but tonight I'm slumped at the table watching my brother eat his third serve, and waiting for the ‘conversation' to start. If they think I'm going to start it, they're so wrong. I'm going to make them squirm through this for as long as possible.

Dad's tried to smile at me a few times, but he's got tomato sauce on his chin and it makes him look ridiculous. I don't smile back. I've moved into punishing mode and I'm pretty good at it, so they'd better watch out.

‘Lily –'

I look at Dad. I know what he wants to talk about, I can even guess what he's going to say, and I'm not going to make it easier for him.

‘Did Mum show you the house?'

‘Nope.'

‘Do you want to see it?'

Before I can answer, my traitorous little brother is nodding with a mouthful of lasagne. ‘I do.'

‘Nope,' I answer as I glare at him.

Mum smiles at Max. ‘I'll show you after dinner.'

‘Thanks, Mum.'

This is all just getting worse. Mum often takes my brother's side, but it's not fair to do it when they're making me move to the country. As if I was ever going to be happy about this.

‘Lil, your mum tried to explain why we're moving.'

‘Yeah – because you're unemployed.'

‘Well, that's only half the reason. Your mum has been offered a retrenchment package and it's a good time for us to make some changes. We really want to spend more time together. And living in the country will mean we can live more cheaply, and hopefully I'll get work there.'

‘I don't want to spend more time together. I'm fifteen. I'm not supposed to spend any time with you.'

Dad smiles at me and reaches out to touch my hand, but I move away.

‘Well,
we
want to be around more,' he says gently.

‘Why?'

‘Because we love you.'

‘Oh please. That's got nothing to do with it. You bought a house without telling me and now you expect me to be happy about it. Well, I'm staying here. With Ruby.'

And as I say it, I know that's the answer. I can just move in next door and live with her and her mum.

‘No, honey. You're coming to Gideon with us.'

‘Gideon? What sort of name's Gideon?'

‘We know it's going to be hard for you to leave this house and Ruby and school, but it'll be exciting.'

‘I don't want exciting.'

‘I do,' pipes up Max.

‘Shut up, Max.'

‘No. It's not all about you.'

‘Clearly. No one bothered to ask me what I thought.'

‘We wanted to surprise you,' says Dad.

‘Well, it worked. Thanks.'

Dad looks at Mum and does that half-smile where he
knows he's not going to win. She starts clearing away
the dinner plates, even though I've eaten nothing.

‘Max, you can help me and then I'll show you the house.'

As soon as they've left the room, Dad moves his chair closer. It scrapes along the floor. ‘Lil, we need to try this.'

‘I don't.'

‘We need to do it as a family.'

‘Why can't I stay here with Ruby?'

‘Because you're part of our family and you're a child.'

‘You're always saying I'm not a child, but now when it suits you I am.'

‘Sorry, Lil, but we're putting this house on the market. We're moving in a month.'

‘A month!'

He nods and now I feel the tears coming, rushing up from every part of me. I don't want to cry in front of him. I want to stay angry.

‘Please, just try.'

I blurt out a sob and then I can't stop the tears. Dad tries again to touch my arm, but I jump up and hurry away from the table.

This time I slam my bedroom door and throw myself on the bed like I'm four again. Ruby has sent me about twenty text messages, but I can't even bear to answer them. Going to Gideon is the worst news I've ever had.

My clock glows 4.00am. I haven't slept much. I never can when I'm worrying. The house is quiet, except for Dad snoring. I open the door to the study and turn on the light. Maybe they've left the page open on the computer, or I'll be able to track it. Then I can find out everything I want to know without them realising.

Scrolling back through their history pages, it doesn't take long to find it: 4 Simpson Street, Gideon. I hold my finger on the return key. I'm not quite sure I'm ready to see it.

Then I click and the screen flashes up a picture of
a big old house. It's the sort you first learn to draw as a child. There's a triangle-shaped roof on top of a rectangular box. There are four windows at the front like two sets of eyes glaring at you, and a door right in the middle on the bottom. There's even a little path leading from the street to the front door, and a chimney. It's all symmetrical.

But something doesn't look right, something that makes my skin prickle. It's as if the house is pretending to be nice so that I'll like it, but then on the inside, it's got plans for me that don't include learning to knit. How did my parents come up with this place? It's not the sort Mum would usually be drawn to – nothing like our modern, open-plan house.

I click through the strip of other photos. The first
room's really big: no furniture, but it's probably a
lounge room
. There's a fireplace in the corner, the walls are covered in dark green swirly patterned wallpaper and there's burgundy carpet and high ceilings. All it needs is a deer head stuffed and hanging from the wall, and a man with a rifle swilling a glass of scotch. Then there's the kitchen: cupboards the colour of vomit.

The bathroom looks disgusting and there doesn't even seem to be a shower. Imagine us all trying to have a bath before we go off to school or work!

There are no photos of bedrooms and the only other photo is of a plain room that looks added on. It doesn't fit with the rest of the house. There are wooden floorboards and the ceiling slants. It's a weird shape; maybe it's an attic.

Clicking on the original photo of the outside, I zoom in on the triangle part at the top to see if there's a room that I missed. And there it is. Small, dark and circular like a forgotten porthole, a tiny round window. As I look at it, something cold sparks around my legs, like I'm looking into a secret. And, despite myself, I do really want to be inside that room.

While I'm staring at the computer, imagining myself walking through the house, Jasper swirls around me, rubbing his fur against my ankles. I bend down to pick him up, but as I do, he flicks his claws out and scratches me.

‘What the hell's that for!' I drop him back onto the ground and he hisses and runs off. He never scratches me. I don't get it. How will he go moving to the country, where he'll be kept inside for the first six weeks?

A floorboard creaks behind me and I freeze. Someone knows I'm poking around in the Gideon house and they're trying to scare me off. The screen suddenly goes dark. How black the room is without any computer light. I can feel myself holding onto my breath, gathering it up.