Noughts and Crosses (14 page)

But I was wrong.

For the first time ever, Lynette was shouting back at him. My sister and Jude were squaring up to each other, with Dad in the middle of them, desperately trying to keep them apart. And Jude’s lip was bleeding . . .

‘You’re nothing but a git, and a vulgar git at that,’ Lynette screamed at the top of her lungs.

‘At least I don’t delude myself,’ Jude shot back at her.

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ asked Lynette.

‘Jude, don’t. Lynette, please.’ Dad wasn’t getting very far.

I looked around for Mum, knowing as I did so that she must be out. There was no way she’d have let things get this far. Dad was there, being his usual feeble self.

‘Dad, what’s going on?’ I asked, pulling on his arm.

Dad turned to shrug me off and that was all the space Jude needed. He lashed out at Lynette. She hit him straight back. Seconds later, Dad was between them,
again pushing them apart. I hadn’t seen Lynette and Jude fight since before my sister’s mind had shut down.

‘Look at you! You think you’re too good to even breathe the same air as us,’ Jude hissed. ‘Well, I’ve got news for you, sis. When the daggers look at you, they see someone who’s just as white as me, for all your airs and graces.’

Daggers again. Every other sentence out of his mouth these days seemed to be ‘ruddy daggers this’ and ‘ruddy daggers that’.

‘I’m not like you. I’m . . . I’m different. I’m brown. Look at my dark skin. Look . . .’

Pushing past Dad, Jude grabbed Lynette’s hands and pulled her to the cracked wall-mirror behind the sofa. He pulled her back against him, his cheek against her cheek. Lynette instantly tried to pull away but Jude wouldn’t let her.

‘See that!’ Jude roared. ‘You’re the same as me. As white as me. Who d’you think you are? I’m sick and tired of being looked down on by you. You’re the most pathetic person I know. If you hate what you are, do something about it. Just die or something! And if there is a God, you’ll come back as one of those ruddy daggers you love so much, and then I can stop feeling guilty about hating you.’

Jude pushed Lynette away from him. She stumbled and fell, arms outstretched against the mirror.

‘Dad, do something,’ I shouted at him.

‘Jude, that’s enough. More than enough,’ said Dad.

‘It’s not even close.’ Jude turned on him, nostrils flaring. ‘It’s time she heard the truth from someone and who else is
going to tell her? You? The spineless wonder? Mum won’t say a word because Lynette is her favourite and the only person Callum cares about is his dagger friend Persephone. So who else is going to show Lynette how it really is?’

‘And who are you to show anyone how it really is?’ I challenged. ‘You’re always so sure you’re right, aren’t you? You make me sick. Lynette isn’t the only one here who can’t stand you.’

Jude stared at me. Without warning he let out a howl like an animal in pain and charged at me. I had time to do little more than take a step back before Jude’s head smashed into my stomach and he knocked me to the ground, knocking all the wind out of me. Dazed, I wondered why his fists weren’t laying into me until I realized that crashing to the ground had knocked the wind out of him as well. I pushed him up and backwards, drawing up my legs at the same time to knee him in the back. He groaned but didn’t get off me. He drew back his fist. I crossed my arms in front of me, getting in his way so he couldn’t hit my face.

The next thing I knew, Jude was being pulled off me.

‘What the hell is the matter with you?’ Dad shouted at Jude, his face almost puce with anger.

I leapt to my feet ready to do battle. Jude tried to turn back to me but Dad wasn’t having it.

‘Don’t turn your back on me when I’m talking to you,’ Dad raged.

‘Oh, get lost, Dad.’ Jude was already turning away from him.

Dad did something that stunned both of us. He spun Jude around and slapped him across the face. Mum was
handy with a slipper whenever we gave her cheek but Dad had never so much as raised his voice to any of us before, let alone hit us.

‘Don’t you ever,
ever
talk to me like that again as long as you live.’ Dad’s voice was quiet and all the more menacing for it. ‘I’m too old and I’ve had to contend with too much crap in my life to put up with disrespect in my own house. You have no idea what your sister’s been through, so how dare you judge her?’

‘W-what’s she been through?’ Jude sniffed, rubbing his face. It was like he was no longer seventeen years old but seven.

‘Three years ago, Lynette and her boyfriend were attacked. By our own. Three or four nought men.’ Dad’s voice rasped with contempt. ‘D’you remember when your mum lost her job so you had to leave school, and around the same time, Lynette was away from home for a while?’

‘You said she’d gone to stay with Aunt Amanda.’ The horrified words crept out of my mouth. ‘You said Aunt Amanda was ill and Lynny had volunteered to look after her.’

‘Your mum and I said what we had to say. Those men almost beat Lynette’s boy to death and they beat Lynette so badly she was in hospital for over two weeks. She begged us not to tell you what had really happened.’

‘I didn’t know . . .’ Jude breathed.

‘And d’you know why Lynette was attacked?’ Dad carried on as if Jude hadn’t spoken. ‘Because her boyfriend was a Cross. Your sister was beaten and l-left for dead because she was dating a Cross. And she didn’t even tell
us. She was afraid of what we’d all say. So is it any wonder that she can’t bear to think of herself as one of us any more? Is it any wonder she can’t even leave this house any more? Her mind hasn’t been right since ’cause she’s still hurting. So leave her alone. D’you hear me?
D
’
YOU HEAR ME
?’

Jude nodded. I nodded, even though Dad wasn’t talking directly to me. I turned to look at Lynette. My sister, Lynette.

‘Dad, she’s bleeding.’ I pointed.

Dad was by her side in a second. Lynette’s palms were bleeding where she’d banged them into the cracked mirror. Lynette was staring down at the crimson patches on her hands as if she’d never seen her own blood before. She looked up to stare at her reflection in the mirror, as if she’d never seen her face before either.

‘Where’s Jed, Daddy?’ Lynette whispered.

‘Jed?’ Dad looked stricken. ‘Honey, Jed went away a long, long time ago. Let me clean up your hands.’

Lynette pulled her hands out of Dad’s grasp. She turned them this way and that, before she slowly raised her head to look at Dad. That faraway, peaceful expression she always wore was dead and gone.

‘Where am I?’

‘At home.’ Dad’s smile was as fake as plastic. ‘You’re safe now. I’m here. I’ll look after you.’

‘Where’s Jed?’ Lynette looked around the room.

‘Listen, honey, Jed and his family moved away a long time ago. They’ve gone. He’s gone . . .’

‘Not a long time ago . . . Yesterday . . . Last week . . .’ Lynette’s voice was barely above a whisper.

‘Darling, it was years ago,’ Dad persisted.

‘I’m . . . I’m seventeen?’

‘No, love. You’re twenty. Twenty last April.’ Dad swallowed hard. ‘Come on, let me . . .’

‘I thought I was seventeen. Eighteen . . .’ Lynette buried her face in her hands, smearing her cheeks with blood. ‘I don’t know what I thought.’

‘Lynette, please . . .’

‘Lynette, I didn’t know.’ Jude stretched out his hand towards Lynette. She slapped it away.

‘Keep your hands away from me,’ she said with vehemence.

Jude’s hand fell to his side. ‘My nought hands, you mean?’

Silence. Lynette looked down at her hands again.

‘Your hands are the same as mine. The same as
theirs
.’ And Lynette turned and ran up to her room before any of us could say another word.

Dad and Jude regarded each other and, never before had I seen either of them look so . . . lost. Looking at them made my eyes begin to sting and water but I stared and didn’t blink, waiting for the feeling to, if not die, then at least lessen to the extent where I wouldn’t make a complete fool of myself. I turned so Dad and Jude wouldn’t see my expression and caught sight of myself in the mirror.

My face was the reflection of Dad and Jude. My expression was theirs. My thoughts and feelings and hates and fears were all theirs, just as theirs were mine, and though I like to think I’m quick and on the ball, I hadn’t even realized. Until now.

I stood in the doorway, watching Mother sip at her glass of white wine. I realized with a start that I had to think back a long way to remember seeing her without a glass of Chardonnay in her hand.

‘Mother, can I have a party for my fourteenth birthday?’

Mother looked up from her magazine. That’s all she ever did, read and drink, spend time in the gym or the pool and drink, shop and drink. And the only things she ever read were those glossy magazines with impossibly beautiful women on the cover and inside. Women with polished mahogany skin who looked like they’d never had a pimple in their lives – nor a decent meal either come to that. Women with teeth which shone like fresh snow in sunshine.

Something else struck me. I’d never seen a nought in any of my mother’s magazines. Not one. No white or pink faces anywhere. In fact, there’d actually been something on the news at the beginning of the year when the first nought model was featured in one of the high fashion magazines. I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about at the time. To be honest, I still couldn’t.

‘A party, eh?’ Mother’s voice brought me back to the
here and now. ‘I don’t see why not.’

And that was it! I was so surprised, I couldn’t speak. I’d expected far more of an argument!

‘After all, your teenage years don’t last very long. You should make sure you enjoy every moment of them,’ Mother smiled.

I wondered how many glasses of wine it had taken to bring on this good mood. And even though I knew I was being uncharitable, I still resented the glass in her hand for making Mother happy where my sister Minnie and I couldn’t.

‘Where would you like to have it?’ Mother continued.

‘Couldn’t we have it here, in our house?’

‘I suppose so.’ Mother shrugged. ‘We could take on some extra help for the day to help out. D’you want an entertainer or a magician?’

‘Mother, I’ll be fourteen.’

Mother raised her eyebrows. ‘So?’

‘So I’ll have an entertainer!’ I smiled.

Mother smiled back. One of our rare moments of connection.

‘So how many guests d’you think you’ll have?’ asked Mother.

‘Everyone in my class. And some of my cousins. And my other friends from ballet school and riding. About forty odd, I suppose.’

‘Fine. Run along and talk to Sarah. Get her to sort it out.’ Mother’s nose was already back in her magazine.

I might’ve guessed Mother wouldn’t want to get her hands dirty. And with a personal secretary and chauffeur and maids and servants, why should she? But I would’ve
loved it if she’d been interested enough to even ask me what I wanted as a birthday present. Oh, I got birthday and Crossmas presents from Mother and Dad. It’s just that they never bought them. They never even chose them. Mother’s secretary Sarah had very good taste. But each one of her selected presents sat at the back of my wardrobe or at the back of a drawer or under my bed, unused. And no-one ever asked me if I liked my presents. No-one ever even asked why they never saw them again after the day they were given. The presents didn’t matter. Maybe because I didn’t either. Only one person cared if I lived or died. He’d done so much for me in the past and now it was my turn to do something for him.

I had a little surprise for Mother and everyone else. A surprise that would ensure that my birthday party was talked about and remembered for ages to come. I hugged my secret to me. I would get into awful trouble but I didn’t care. I really didn’t. I’d had enough of this attitude of ‘live and let live – but not in my neighbourhood’. It wasn’t that I thought I was better than everyone else or anything, but someone had to start somewhere, show them all what hypocrites they were.

So why not now?

And why not me?

‘Ryan, this isn’t the way to change things. Alex Luther, for instance . . .’