Hold Your Breath (11 page)

Leo came round to her side of the car and, with a shy, apologetic grin, yanked the door open.

‘It’s a bit of a rust-bucket but it’ll get you home in one piece.’

Tara shuddered a little inside at his choice of words.

‘Where to?’ said Leo.

She gave him her address and he gave a short nod of recognition. Inside the car, Tara sat stiffly, trying to make space for her feet in the footwell. It was crammed with a large sports bag and a
rolled-up towel that looked as though it had been there for ever. Tara was fizzing with nerves, wondering if she should question Leo, but she had no idea what to say. Plus, she was hyper-conscious
of his strong, tanned arm near hers as he clipped in his seatbelt, which obviously was just
wrong
of her, she knew.

He’d just turned the engine on when a panicked, disembodied voice filled car, making Tara jump.

‘
They’re coming outta the walls! They’re coming outta the goddamn walls!
’

As Leo switched off the engine and fumbled in his pocket, Tara realised the sound was the ringtone on his mobile.

He glanced at her, flushing a little. ‘It’s from
Aliens
,’ he said, a bit apologetically, and then answered the call.

‘Papi, I’m busy right now. What’s . . . ?’ he sighed. ‘Are you all right? Don’t move, I’ll be right there.’

He put his phone away and looked at Tara, his expression concerned.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘I have to stop off before I take you home. My dad . . . he’s disabled and he’s got himself stuck getting out of the bath. We’re on Foley
Road so it’ll be a quick detour before I take you to yours. Do you mind?’

‘No, that’s okay,’ she said, as the car pulled out of the park.
That’s interesting,
she thought, gathering her courage to speak again. ‘Don’t you
live with Mel then?’ She was aiming for ‘nonchalant’ but feared she’d ended up with something closer to ‘stiff and weird’.

Leo shook his head. ‘No, we’ve never lived in the same house, thank God. Our family’s not exactly your usual two-point-three kids thing,’ he said as he expertly pulled
onto a roundabout, one forearm resting on the open window in that cocky lad’s way.

‘Oh?’ said Tara, trying not to sound as interested as she really was.

‘Our mum, Hope, well, she was what they called a wild child in the Nineties. My pa— my dad’s Italian and she met him on holiday in Sicily. He gave up everything to come over
here and then she left him when I was a baby.’ This had the air of something that had been said so many times that all bitterness had been soaked away by the passage of time. ‘Dad
stayed here and brought me up,’ continued Leo. ‘Hope hooked up with Adam Stone and was pregnant with Melodie before I was even walking.’

Tara slid a look at him.

He shrugged. ‘That was Hope for you. Or so I’m told.’

‘Oh,’ said Tara. ‘Is she . . . ?’

‘Dead? Yeah,’ said Leo. ‘It’s okay though, because it’s not like I really knew her or anything. She died of a drug overdose when I was three. I don’t remember
her.’

‘And Faith’s an aunt, right?’ she said with a boldness she wasn’t feeling.

Leo slid her an odd look. ‘Yeah, she’s Hope’s sister. She got custody of her because, at the time, Adam was in no fit state to look after a baby. He was in rehab
himself.’ He grinned. ‘I know what you’re thinking . . .’

Tara gulped. ‘Er, you do?’

‘Yeah,’ said Leo. ‘Faith and Hope. Yes, their parents were hippies.’

Leo glanced at her again. ‘But don’t you know any of this already?’

‘What?’

‘Doesn’t Mel tell her friends
anything
?’

Tara froze. She’d forgotten about the lie she’d told, that she and Melodie were friends. There may have a been a moment before now when she could have said, ‘Actually, when I
say friends, I just mean we sit together in English’, but now it was too late. Instead, she found herself saying, ‘You know what she’s like.’

Leo sighed. ‘Yeah. Too well.’

No one spoke for another minute or so, and Tara had the sensation of having missed an opportunity that wouldn’t present itself again.

They soon turned down a road of terraced houses not far from Tara’s school. The houses were small and made from red brick. Many had broken walls at the front. It was a busy main road and
traffic thundered by. Leo pulled into a sort of yard behind the houses halfway down the row and stopped the engine, turning to Tara.

‘I won’t be long,’ he said, unclipping his seatbelt. ‘Do you want to wait here?’

Tara looked past him to where a group of boys a bit younger than herself were slouched on the wall, or making lazy circles on BMXs. They were, as one, looking at the car.

‘Can I come with you?’ she said, unclipping her seatbelt.

Leo looked away and there was an awkward pause until he met her eyes again. There was a defiant look in them now, which she couldn’t work out.

‘Yeah, why not,’ he said. ‘Come on.’

They trudged across the car park, which led to a row of rusty-doored garages. There were some whistles and catcalls from the boys, which ended abruptly when Leo turned and gave them a look.

He caught her watching and gave her a short smile, which the boys couldn’t see. She returned the smile, following him through a rickety gate and into a patch of garden, which was strewn
with a couple of old plastic clothes horses and the remains of several motorbikes.

Leo opened the back door. A grubby lace curtain covered the top half of the door, attached to elastic. It was the sort of thing Tara’s mum would never allow in her house. Tara felt a
little ashamed for thinking of this as she followed Leo into the kitchen.

‘Papi? Papi,’ said Leo. ‘It’s me. I have someone with me . . .’ he added hastily.

Leo disappeared off down a dark hallway. A rapid exchange in Italian followed between Leo and someone with a deep voice who must be the mysterious ‘Papi’.

It seemed to go on for ages and was so fast that Tara didn’t recognise a single word, despite the short-lived fad Mum’d had for learning the language once, and insisting on trying it
out on her family.

Unsure what to do, Tara lingered by the back door, looking around an ancient kitchen. The cooker was an electric ring one and there was a washing machine that looked about two centuries old.
None of the appliances were built in, like in Tara’s kitchen, but free standing and a bit wobbly looking. A yellow formica table was in the middle of the room. An avalanche of papers looked
set to slide any minute onto a floor made from large brown carpet tiles, which were a little tacky underneath Tara’s sandals.

Her foot began to throb then. She was suddenly hungry and tired. She thought about Mum saying there was bread from the artisan bakery and felt a little throb of shame at how different her own
home was from this one, coupled with a strong wish to be there right now.

Leo came back into the kitchen, looking annoyed. Behind him, a dark-haired man using one of those old-people walkers was shuffling along. In fact, he was probably only about Dad’s age. He
had glasses and a big toothy smile.

There was another rapid-fire burst of Italian. Tara caught the words ‘Leonardo’ and ‘bella’. Tara knew this meant ‘beautiful’ or ‘pretty girl’ and
instantly blushed hard.

‘Dad, this is Tara; Tara, my dad Gianni.’ Leo’s face was stiff; his voice flat. He looked as though he couldn’t wait to get out of there. Tara hoped he had explained why
she was there and kept shooting desperate glances at him.

Gianni held out his hand, still beaming. Tara took it and they shook.

‘Is pleasure to meet you, Tara,’ he said. His rich, warm accent made her imagine sunshine sparkling on blue water.

‘You too,’ she said with a shy smile.

‘Right, you got everything you need then?’ said Leo briskly. ‘Because I need to shoot off and take Tara home, then get back to the pool.’

‘Why you working at a pool when you should be in college, I never know,’ said Gianni with a gloomy expression.

‘Not now, Papi.’ Leo’s tone could have cut paper.

Gianni’s raised his hand, palm up, in surrender. ‘Okay, okay, I shut my mouth. Look.’ He mimed zipping his lips, his bright eyes merry.

Tara smiled back, infected by his warmth.

‘Come on, Tara,’ said Leo with a sigh, ‘let’s get you home.’

They got back into the car in silence and Leo started the engine. He wasn’t talkative now. In fact, he was glowering as they came out of the yard and moved into the
stream of traffic.

Tara felt compelled to fill the space. She wanted to know what was wrong with Gianni but didn’t dare ask. But then Leo spoke.

‘Dad was a roofer,’ he said with no introduction. ‘Well, actually,’ he corrected himself, ‘he was an acrobat back in Palermo when Hope met him.’ He glanced at
her and smiled ruefully. ‘No word of a lie. He really was. Never had a single accident. Then he came to this country and the only work he could get was as a roofer. He came off a roof a few
years back and broke his back. He can walk a bit now but . . . things are really hard for him. He gets chest infections quite a lot because his upper spine was damaged.’ He gave a heavy sigh.
‘In fact, we were at A and E all Wednesday night.’

Leo stopped speaking abruptly, biting his own sentence off. His cheeks were flushed and Tara understood somehow that he felt he’d been too open with a stranger. Should she ask about Will?
Swallowing, she spoke before she could talk herself out of it.

‘What d’you think of Will then?’ she said and hardly dared breathe, as Leo flicked a look at her. But his face was completely impassive and gave nothing away.

‘I think he’s a poser and a moron,’ said Leo. ‘Why?’

Tara had to suppress a shocked laugh inside, despite the circumstances. Then she remembered why she was asking and felt a spasm of guilt.

‘He’s had an accident,’ she said, forcing herself to go on. ‘A bad one.’

‘God, really?’ said Leo, looking sharply at her. ‘What happened?’

‘Car hit him,’ she said, still hardly daring to breathe. ‘He’s in a coma.’

Leo gave a low whistle. ‘Poor bloke. I don’t like him much, but that’s bad. Wonder if Mel knows yet.’

Tara thought quickly. Leo seemed genuine, but she didn’t really know him at all. The gruff-but-kind-of-gentle exterior might be a complete front. She thought of an expression of her
dad’s then.
In for a penny, in for a pound . . .

She took a deep breath and then let the words come.

‘Look, can I ask you something?’

Leo turned and glanced at her, with a frown. ‘Yeah . . .’

She had to get this right. She couldn’t let on that she wasn’t really a friend of Melodie’s. Not now. It was too late. Hopefully he would never have to know.

‘I know this is really stupid,’ she said in a rush, ‘but me and some of Mel’s mates are a bit worried because she’s not answering any messages since she went
away.’

Leo’s expression revealed nothing at these words. He concentrated as he turned right onto another main road. They weren’t far from where Tara lived now.

‘Well, you know what she’s like with stuff like that,’ said Leo.

Tara wanted to scream at him.
No, I don’t! Other than being a bit up herself and nasty, I have no idea what the hell Melodie bloody Stone is like!

Tara forced a strangled laugh of agreement but pressed on. ‘Thing is, though, some of them have started saying that something’s . . . happened to her.’

Leo turned and looked at Tara properly now. She still couldn’t read his expression and then he hooted a short laugh. ‘Nothing like a bit of melodrama, is there?’ said Leo.
‘Let me guess. Jada reckons she’s been kidnapped?’

Tara laughed too, a laugh that was clear and false. She wondered if he could hear her echoing heartbeat reverberating around the car.

‘Yeah, typical Jada.’ Tara tried to soften her tone. ‘Uh, bless her.’

What was she talking about?

But he didn’t seem to notice her oddness.

‘You can tell Jada she’s fine,’ he said, ‘or at least, she was two days ago. Not sure how she’ll react to hearing about Will though.’ The car turned into
Tara’s road and she directed him towards her house. As they pulled up at the kerb, Tara was about to say thanks and goodbye, trying to ignore the sensation of something gluing her to her
seat, when Leo spoke again.

‘Listen to this.’ He reached into his trouser pocket and got out his mobile. He tapped the screen and then a familiar, disembodied voice rang out. Chills crept up the back of
Tara’s neck and she clenched her fists so her nails bit into her palms. But the voice didn’t bring on any strange images.
Thank God,
she thought, listening to the words filling
the car.

‘Babes, know you’re having a swim at this time but wanted to say I’m safe and sound. And, ya know . . . sorry about all that the other day. Adam’s taking me out for
oysters later. You can think of me when you’re having fish fingers with Gianni. Speak soon, love you, byeeee!’

There was some kind of noise in the background of the call that was slightly familiar, but Tara couldn’t place it. She tried to remember visits to Brighton long ago and what it might have
been. But it was quickly gone and unimportant anyway. Melodie was clearly all right. She knew she should be relieved. She should be, but she still felt uneasy.

Leo grinned at Tara. ‘Think that will reassure the overactive imaginations?’

Tara grinned back. ‘Yeah, I’ll pass it on.’

She thought about Will again. Melodie probably hadn’t had the guts to tell him he was dumped. Poor Will. Tara wondered if he had regained consciousness yet. She still wanted to know what
Leo and Melodie had been having such a heated argument about when she’d seen them in the underpass but couldn’t think how she could ask.

‘You close then?’ It was the best she could do.

Leo made a face. ‘We have our moments. Fight like cat and dog sometimes. Well, often, I guess. But we look out for each other too. You got any? Sisters, I mean?’

‘A brother,’ said Tara. ‘But we’re the same. Cat and dog.’

There was a pause.

‘Okay,’ she said, ‘thanks for the lift.’

‘No problem,’ said Leo. ‘Least I can do. Hang on a minute . . .’ He undid his seat belt and stretched over into the back seat to reach for something. His T-shirt rode up
to reveal the soft angle of his hip bone, smooth but also sharp under tanned skin. Tara’s insides flip-flopped unhelpfully. She looked away.