No Place to Hide (19 page)

“Three years!”

“Which isn’t much when you’re older, but it is right now. He’ll be mixing with girls his own age, going places, doing things you can’t possibly get involved in…”

“Why not?”

“You know why not. Eighteen is very different to fifteen. For one thing, it’s legal for him to go to pubs.”

“I
sing
in pubs.”

“Only locally, and you’re not allowed to drink. He is, and he’ll want to do that with friends of his own age.”

“I don’t mind if he drinks. In fact, you might as well know that I’d have sex with him if he wanted, and I reckon he does.”

Taking a breath, Justine said, “It’s when you talk like that that you remind me of how very young you are.”

Abby’s eyes flashed. “I hate it when you say things like that. Fifteen’s not too young to have sex. Everyone’s doing it in my year.”

“Even if that’s true, it’s no reason for you to do it too.”

“I’m telling you I would if Harry wanted to.”

“Than we have to feel thankful that he didn’t show up last night, and that he’s going to be in Leeds from now on—or at least until Christmas.”

Abby’s head went down, and Justine could feel her awful despair. “I know he doesn’t fancy me really,” she whispered shakily. “Who would when I’m ugly and fat and totally up myself…”

Pulling her into a hug, Justine said, “You’re beautiful and slim and totally going to be famous one day, and if you still want him then I bet all you’ll have to do is click your fingers and he’ll come running.”

Seeming to like this idea, Abby nodded slowly.

“And remember what we read the other day,” Justine pressed on. “ ‘Every bad situation is a blues song waiting to happen.’ ”

Abby’s head came up. “That was Amy Winehouse,” she stated.

Justine nodded. Right now Abby had no greater idol. “So maybe you should get writing,” she suggested.

Abby was clearly already there.

Deciding to leave her to her composing, Justine got up from the bed.

“Mum?” Abby said as Justine reached the door.

Turning round, Justine watched her put down the guitar, unfold herself from the counterpane, and come toward her, all long slender legs and smooth flat tummy with a crystal stud in her navel.

“I’m really glad you’re back,” she said, sliding her arms round Justine’s neck, “and I’m sorry I was so horrid when you came in.”

“You’re already forgiven,” Justine assured her. Tilting Abby’s face up to her own, she whispered, “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Abby whispered back. After a beat she added, “Do you think I should text Harry to find out why he didn’t come? I mean, he might be ill or something, because he didn’t even get in touch.”

Justine was about to respond when Ben said scathingly, “You are such a stalker. Leave him alone, why don’t you? He’s—”

“
I’m
the stalker?” Abby hissed furiously. “Look who’s talking. You’re even standing there now, eavesdropping on what other people are saying…He does it all the time,” she told her mother. “You need to talk to him, because he is seriously psycho.”

Ben growled menacingly into her face.

Drawing back sharply, she said, “See what I mean? Everyone’s scared of him. No one’ll have anything to do with him except Chantal, and she wouldn’t bother if she weren’t so sweet.”

“Why don’t you fuck off and die,” he snarled.

“Ben, for God’s sake!” Justine snapped. She’d thought, believed, he was improving…

He was walking away.

“You are so never going to make anything of yourself,” Abby shouted after him.

He simply raised a middle finger and disappeared into his room.

Before Abby could rant any more, Justine said, “Please tell me you haven’t been arguing like this the whole time Dad and I were away.”

Abby flushed. “He just makes me so mad at times.”

“Abby, Granny really doesn’t need it—”

“It didn’t happen often,” Abby broke in heatedly. “As a matter of fact, we hardly ever saw him, thank God, because who wants to hang out with
him
?”

“Plenty of people,” Ben shouted, tearing open his door. “They’re just not dumbfucks like you and your—”

“See?” Abby broke in. “He’s eavesdropping again.”

“Drop dead,” he spat, and slammed the door.

Abby glared at her mother, clearly expecting some sort of reaction, but Justine was so agitated she couldn’t think what to say.

“Aren’t you at least going to tell him off for swearing?” Abby pressed forcefully.

Deciding to give her a hug, Justine said, “I should go and help Dad with the luggage,” and before any more arguments could break out she ran down the stairs and closed the kitchen door behind her.

“I don’t know what gets into them,” she said to Catherine and Matt. “The way they wind one another up…Sometimes I don’t know who’s worse.” To Catherine she said, “Please tell me what they were really like while we were away.”

“Oh, for sure there was the occasional skirmish,” Catherine admitted, “but you expect it at their age. Teenagers are driven by hormones that haven’t yet attached themselves to normal restraint or common sense.”

“Were Simon and Matt like it when they were that age?”

Catherine gave it some thought. “Probably,” she replied, “but to be honest, I’d say puberty is a bit like another form of childbirth—it can hurt a lot while it’s happening, but when it’s over you forget all the bad bits and only remember the good.”

Justine looked at Matt, who simply shrugged as if to say,
I’ll buy into that one.
And as if to back him up, their sixteen-year-old nephew Wesley chose that moment to burst in through the back door with Rosie the retriever.

“Hey, Auntie Just, Uncle Matt,” he laughed as Rosie barreled between them, so excited by the surprise that she hardly knew whom to greet first.

Leaving Matt to deal with Rosie, Justine went to hug Wes, who surely had to be six foot by now. With his young James Dean looks (
“Who?”
he’d protested when his grandmother had first commented on the likeness) and easygoing nature, he was probably one of the most popular lads around. Although it had to be said, it was only recently that he’d stopped being a nightmare for his parents, for he’d spent a good part of the past couple of years being sulky, uncommunicative, aggressive, and sneery, with, thank goodness, the occasional burst of humor that filled everyone with heady relief as they were reminded that behind all the frontal-lobe chaos the real Wesley was managing to survive.

“The trip was wonderful,” Justine told him when he asked. “The journey back was hell. How’s everything with you?”

“Yeah, cool.” He was hugging his grandmother now, then shaking hands with Matt. “Is Abby here?” he wanted to know.

“Upstairs in her room,” Justine told him.

“OK, I’ll go see her. Oh, Gran, Mum wants to know if you told Uncle Matt and Auntie Just that Cheryl’s—”

“Cooking dinner,” Catherine finished. “Yes, I remembered, so you don’t have to put me in a home yet.”

Laughing, Justine said, “That is never going to happen,” and grabbing Wes’s arm before he could leave, she said quietly, “Ben’s upstairs too. If you’ve got a moment, would you pop in and have a chat with him? I think he could do with some…” How should she put this? “Cousinly support.”

Though Wes didn’t appear thrilled with the task, he managed a cheerful “Sure thing.” Laughing at the way Rosie had pinned Matt to the wall, he took himself off to see his cousins.

—

Two days later Justine and Cheryl were in the kitchen barn, with no other staff around for the moment, preparing pies, salads, and sauces to stock up the deli. It was Justine’s first day back after the trip Down Under, and though she was still jet-lagged, it felt good to be behind the stove and worktops again while catching up with Cheryl.

“So he’s still in the hospital,” Cheryl was saying, as Justine added more garam masala to a chicken curry and soberly absorbed the news that Neil, Maddy’s son, was in hospital being tested for another type of cancer, this time in his spine.

“Poor Maddy,” Justine murmured. “Poor Neil. It seems so unfair when he’s been doing so well for so long.” She was picturing his cheeky grin, freckly nose, and gangly limbs, and remembering how elated he’d been the day they’d thrown a party to celebrate his selection for the football team. When he appeared so healthy and full of life, it was hard to accept there could be anything wrong with him.

“It might turn out to be a false alarm,” Cheryl reminded her. “Let’s keep our fingers crossed for that, anyway. The kids have all been going in to visit him, which is keeping his spirits up, Maddy says.”

“How is she coping?”

“She’s there every day, as you’d expect, and she looks about as bad as she’s obviously feeling.”

“Has she hit the vodka yet?”

“Not so far, but who could blame her if she caved in? The stress, the fear, must be unbearable.”

“Are things still good between her and Ronnie?”

“As far as I know.”

There had been much bawdy speculation on what might have happened between the butcher and his wife while on a second honeymoon in Greece a couple of years ago, for neither, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, had shown any signs of playing around since. In fact, they appeared to be closer than anyone could ever remember, and the effect their new harmony was having on their children was a joy to see. Neither Nelly nor Neil frowned quite so much now, nor did they seem as nervy or apprehensive, and there was, apparently, much improvement in their grades at school. This was one of the reasons why this latest scare with Neil felt so wrong and unjust.

“To be honest, I don’t know how either Maddy or Ronnie would cope if he turns out to be sick again,” Cheryl commented as she removed a mixing bowl from the blender. “Actually, how would any of us if it happened to one of ours? It’s unthinkable. We forget sometimes how lucky we are to have normal, healthy kids.”

With some irony, Justine replied, “I’m not sure I’d call mine normal, but I know what you mean.”

Smiling, Cheryl said, “Chantal tells me Abby was sensational at the Komedia last Saturday night. Has anyone been in touch with her since, like the producer who hired her?”

Justine shook her head. “She’s managed to convince herself that the female singer in the Black Diamonds has it in for her, so now she’ll never hear from the producer again.”

Cheryl grimaced. “From everything you hear about the music industry, I guess there’s a chance she could be right.”

“As Matt says, she’s going to encounter a lot of competition along the way, and a lot of sharks who’ll be out to take advantage of her one way or another, so she’d better start toughening up now.”

Wiping her hands, Cheryl said, “She can handle herself well enough. She’s got the confidence and she’s talented. No one can take that away from her, no matter what their intentions might be.”

Praying that would turn out to be true, Justine said, “Speaking of intentions, she informed me the other night that she’d sleep with Harry Sands if he asked her.”

Cheryl’s eyebrows shot up. “Wouldn’t we all?” she retorted, making Justine laugh. “He is so drop-dead he actually makes me blush when he speaks to me, in case he can read my mind.”

Spluttering on another laugh, Justine said, “How’s his delightful mother these days?”

Cheryl’s expression collapsed. “Please don’t get me started on that piece of work,” she muttered. “She’s only got herself co-opted onto the parish council, so there’s something for us all to look forward to. She’s also appointed herself head of flowers at the church, she’s starting up a new walking group, she informs me, and apparently she’s arranging for various luminaries to come and give talks at the village hall.”

Justine’s interest was piqued. “What sort of luminaries?”

“Heaven only knows. I guess we’ll find out when she’s managed to book them. She sent Connor over the other day to invite me and Brad for drinks. I had to wonder why she didn’t just ring up until Brad pointed out that it was probably the boy’s way of getting to see Chantal.”

Curious, Justine said, “Does Chantal like him?”

“Not as far as I’m aware, but you know Chantal, she’s lovely to everyone so it’s not always easy to tell who she does or doesn’t like. I think she’s still got a bit of a thing for Ben, but we hardly ever see him these days.”

Justine rolled her eyes. “With the way he is, you might think yourself lucky,” she commented. “I thought things were getting better, but now I’m not so sure. He and Abby…The things they say to one another in the heat of the moment…I’m sure Rob and I never used to be anywhere near as horrible when we had fights.”

Shrugging, Cheryl said, “Maybe that’s the blessing of only having one: no scrapping, no sibling rivalry, just a peaceful life in that area…As usual, it’s the parents making all the noise in our house.”

Justine regarded her worriedly. “So things aren’t any better with Brad?”

“They’re never going to be, you know that. The only reason we’ve lasted this long is because of Chantal. Once she goes to uni…Well, hopefully he’ll pack up and go and I’ll be free to start a new life with someone who’s not jealous of my success, such that it is, and who doesn’t keep putting me down at every opportunity. Honestly, you don’t know how lucky you are with Matt. OK, you do, but you’re so close, you two, and when the kids go you’ll still have each other. When Chantal goes…”

Realizing Cheryl was becoming emotional, Justine went to put an arm around her. “When Chantal goes you’ll still have me and Portovino, because we’re not going anywhere.”

Cheryl smiled through watery eyes. “Thank God,” she whispered, painting Justine’s nose with a floury finger, “because there are times when I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

—

“She wouldn’t have to be without us,” Matt insisted when Justine related the conversation to him later. “We’ve known her for so long. She feels as much a part of the family as Simon and Gina—even my mother says that.”

Rolling over on the bed where they’d just snatched a late-afternoon nap, Justine said, “The question is, will Brad actually leave when Chantal goes to uni? I hope so, because Cheryl’s life has been on hold for too long already. She should be with someone who really appreciates her…Actually, wouldn’t it be great if we could pair her off with Kelvin Sands, who’s such a sweetheart? He really deserves someone as warm and wonderful as Cheryl.”