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Authors: Emma Haughton

Now You See Me (21 page)

BOOK: Now You See Me
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I smile. We haven't had a holiday since we went to the Isle of Wight with Mum. That was, what…six years ago?

“Sounds great,” I say, forcing down my impatience. “I can't wait.”

By the time I see Dad into his taxi and make it round to Dial House, it's almost dark. Alice is frowning when I walk in.

“Jolly angry,” she says solemnly. “Everyone jolly angry.”

Martha is ironing. A bad sign. Martha hates ironing and only ever tackles it when she's in the worst of moods. She looks up at me and smiles as I slip off my shoes. The sort of smile you know doesn't come easily.

“I was beginning to wonder where you were. Did your dad get away all right?”

I nod. “Is everything okay?” I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Martha sweeps the iron across one of Paul's shirts, catching the cuff. Straightens it up with a scowl.

“Nah,” says a voice behind me. Danny. “Mum's in a funk because I missed a dental appointment. Like it matters.”

Martha swings round, almost brandishing the iron in his face. “You didn't just miss one though, did you, Danny? You missed two. And I wouldn't have known about either if the receptionist hadn't rung to complain.”

Danny shrugs, leaning against the door frame. “I've said I'm sorry. Anyway, what's the big deal? There's nothing wrong with my teeth.”

He curls back his lips to show them. It makes him look like he's snarling.

“The point, Danny, is that you lied to me.” Martha's voice is slow and deliberate. “I asked you how the check-up went and you said fine.”

“I told you. I had other things to do.”

“What things? What's so important that you can't keep a ten-minute dental appointment?”

Danny doesn't answer, just glares back at his mother. Neither looks like they're about to back down, and I catch Alice eyeing them warily. Then Danny swings round and walks out the room.

I glance at Martha. Her face is red. I can't tell if it's because she's angry or she's about to cry.

“Christ,” she hisses under her breath so Alice can't hear. “I just don't know what's wrong with him. He's getting moodier and more difficult by the day.” She swipes the iron angrily over Paul's shirt, setting in more creases than she's removing.

“Here, I'll do that,” I offer.

Martha shakes her head. “Don't worry, Hannah. You should be studying.” She presses her eyes closed then looks up at the ceiling. “Perhaps you could encourage Danny to do the same.”

She tips the iron the wrong way and a squirt of steam shoots all over the shirtsleeve.

“Give it to me.” I hold my hand out for the iron. “I don't mind. I want to help out while I'm here.”

Martha hands it to me with a grateful sigh. Pours herself a glass of wine and sinks into a chair. I wonder if it's a good moment to talk to her about Danny. Ask her what she thinks happened while he was away. Tell her my suspicions that Danny landed himself in some kind of trouble.

But no. Now isn't the right time. Alice is sitting at the kitchen table, chewing on a piece of toast and Martha looks tired and agitated, her face pale and lined.

I readjust the shirt and slide the iron across the creases, watching them dissolve beneath the steam. Wishing that everything in life could be smoothed over so easily.

18

“Hannnnnnnaaaaaaah!” Alice yells when I get in from my maths exam, running into me so hard I'm nearly winded.

She seems to have grown in the week I've been here, and her face looks happier, less pinched. Rudman bounds up behind her, tail wagging furiously. He's put on weight, and the scratches are almost healed – just a few strips of shorter fur where the vet shaved his coat before putting in the stitches.

Alice is wearing her party dress and a plastic tiara. She grabs my hand and drags me upstairs into her parents' bedroom.

“Hannah!” Martha turns from trying on a pair of black sparkly shoes and gives me a warm hug. “How did it go?”

“I think I did okay,” I say, letting Alice push me onto the end of the bed. “I answered most of the questions.”

“Did you see Danny? Is he back?”

“He was in the exam. I'm not sure where he is now.” I don't tell her that he sat a few desks away from me, barely writing after the first half an hour. Just staring out the window, looking bored.

“You should ring your dad,” she says. “Tell him how you got on.”

“I'll give him a call him tonight. When he's finished his lectures.”

“Well?” Martha does a little twirl to show me her outfit for the Rotary dinner. She's wearing a fitted green dress that does a sort of V across her shoulders and pinches in at the waist. With her cherry-red lipstick, she looks great.

Better than great. The best I've seen her in ages.

She spins around again, ending with a curtsy and a flourish of her hand and Alice bursts into giggles. Martha pulls a face, which makes her laugh even more.

“Fantastic,” I say. “Really.”

“These earrings –” she holds a dangly diamanté one up to her ear – “or these?” She puts a black stud up to the other.

“I don't know… You know me…I'm not really much good at these things.”

“Black,” Alice says firmly.

“Black it is then.” Martha drops the other pair back in her jewellery box and locks it back into her cupboard.

“Why is Alice dressed up?” I ask. She can't be going out with Martha and Paul.

Martha laughs. “You know Alice, she always has to get in on the act. If I glam up, she does too. That's why it takes me so long to get ready.”

Alice scowls, then flops back onto the bed and kicks her feet into the air.

“All dressed up and nowhere to go,” I say, grabbing her ankles. “Come on, Bugsy. Let's leave Mum to it. We'll go and see if we can get Rudman to chase the squirrels.”

“Gotcha!”

Alice squeals when she lands on my counter, sending it home for the umpteenth time. We're playing Ludo in her bedroom, a made-up version where you pile counters to block your opponent. It means it goes on for what feels like for ever, but Alice loves every moment.

“Maybe we should just declare you the winner,” I suggest hopefully.

“No way!”

“Well, I need a drink. You do my go for me.”

Down in the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of water and pick up the crisp packet Alice abandoned on the floor, shoving it in the bin. As I close the lid I spot the side of a box, shoved underneath yesterday's newspaper. It's the picture that catches my eye, a woman with long glossy blonde hair.

I pull it out. Sure enough it's hair dye, a shade called Golden Summer. Inside, an empty tube, a smear of grey-green gunk still clinging to the lid.

I stare at it, bewildered. Who on earth colours their hair? I know Martha dyes hers, but dark brown – she goes off to the hairdresser every couple of months to have the roots done. So who then? Alice is way too young, and Paul doesn't have much to bother with.

It must be Danny, I conclude. But why would he dye his hair? It's already blond.

Then I think of mine, how it's darkened over the last few years, from fair to mousy-brown. Lianna's always telling me I should get highlights.

Even so, I'm surprised Danny would go to that kind of effort. He never used to care about his appearance. Martha had to nag to even get him in the shower.

Somewhere in the house, a door slams. Instinctively I stuff the box back deep into the bin and hurry back up to Alice's room.

“My go?”

Alice is picking at strands of wool on the rug, her face sullen. “No. Tired now.”

“All right then,” I say, trying not to sound relieved. “Bedtime.”

I tuck her in and kiss her on the forehead. Down in the lounge the blare of the TV starts up. Danny.

“Stay here,” Alice whispers as she turns onto her side. “Please?”

I watch the rhythmic rise and fall of Alice's breathing, the way her eyelids move as she dreams, and think about going for a walk. It's still light and I'm itching to get outside and clear my head.

But somehow I feel uneasy about going. What am I afraid of? I ask myself. That Danny will go out again and leave Alice alone?

Surely not if he knows no one else is here.

Or am I afraid of leaving Alice
with
Danny? The thought catches somewhere in my chest. Could that really be true?

I rest my head on the edge of her bed, studying the slight frown on her forehead, like she's concentrating, even in her sleep. Downstairs the TV goes silent. I hear a voice.

Danny's.

I creep out onto the landing. He's talking on the phone, fast and urgent. A few moments of quiet, then he speaks again, lower this time, almost a growl, like he's angry and trying not to shout.

The silence returns. Followed by the clunk of the back door closing behind him.

Danny's gone. God knows where. He seems to be out later and later these days, returning long after I've gone to bed, and sleeping in every opportunity he gets. But still I go downstairs to double-check he's left before I grab his school bag from the kitchen chair and go through it quickly, looking in every pocket and compartment.

Nothing. Just a few pens and a couple of textbooks. Several loose coins, though no sign of his wallet. An exam timetable, crumpled at the bottom of the bag, like a piece of scrap paper.

I go back up to his room. The door is shut tight. I hesitate before turning the handle. Should I do this? What if Danny finds out? Or Martha and Paul?

A deep breath, then I open the door.

Right at that moment there's a flash of headlights through the landing window. The sound of the car in the drive. They're back.

I shut the door quickly, feeling strangely relieved.

“How was it?” I ask, as Martha walks in, smiling a slightly tipsy smile – a sure sign she's had a good time. Paul follows right behind, loosening his tie, nodding hello before going up to check on Alice.

“Oh, the usual.” Martha flops down beside me on the sofa. “Ate too much, drank too much. Talked too much. You know.”

I grin. “Not really.”

Martha squints at me and smiles. “You're right, Hannah. You really should get out more.”

I laugh.

“I'm not kidding.” She pulls off one of her high heels and rubs her foot. “What about prom night? Anyone asked you?”

I feel myself flush. “No.”

“How about Danny? Why don't you go with him?”

I look at her. Shake my head.

“You always swore you'd go together.”

It's true. We had always promised we'd be each other's prom partner. Not in a girlfriend-boyfriend sort of way, but because we both agreed it'd be better than being stuck with someone else.

But that was then. Now I suspect Danny would rather skip the whole thing than spend the evening with me.

Martha is studying my expression. “What's wrong, Hannah?”

“Wrong?” I echo, feigning ignorance.

“Come on, it's not like I haven't noticed. What's going on with you and Danny?”

I look away. “I don't know what you mean.”

“The pair of you barely seem to speak to each other.”

I try to think what to say. But my head is bleary with tiredness and I can't find the right words. “I…I don't know. He's changed…things have changed, I mean.”

There's a pause as my words sink in. Martha's shoulders stiffen as she sits upright and considers how to respond.

“Yes, he has, Hannah. And yes, before you say anything else, perhaps not for the better. Not in some ways.” She sighs and closes her eyes, squeezing the lids tight. Then opens them and fixes them on me.

“But who knows what happened to him while he was gone – that's what I keep thinking. I mean, whatever it was, it must have been awful. Why else can't he bear to remember any of it? And that's bound to affect you, isn't it?”

So Martha has come to much the same conclusion as me. I wonder briefly whether to voice my suspicions about what Danny's been up to, but something holds me back. I'm still not sure Martha's ready to hear anything bad about her son.

“Hannah, look, I know it's hard – for everyone. But we have to wait. Wait until he remembers or recovers… I'm sure Danny doesn't mean any of it. I'm certain he doesn't. It's just that…that he can't help it, that's all.”

I nod, but can't quite hold her gaze or respond to the appeal it contains. Martha, I sense, is trying to persuade herself as much as me. The difference is she doesn't really want to know what happened to Danny – she just wants everything to be all right.

She leans over and cups my chin with her hand. “You have to give him more time, Hanny, okay?”

I chew the inside of my cheek and think of Danny and the videos. The cool way he watched my face as he played the one with my mother, gauging my reaction. Like a scientist scrutinizing a bug under a microscope.

I look back at Martha, her almost pleading expression, and smile. A brief, false, forced smile. And decide to say nothing.

19

Something flies over my shoulder and hits the back of Adam Jamison's head. He spins round, bewildered, his gaze fixing on something beneath my desk. I peer down and see a crumpled ball of paper.

I go to pick it up but Adam widens his eyes at me. I see Mr Watson heading towards us with that slow, deliberate walk teachers use when they're invigilating. Shit, I think, my heart thumping. What if he sees it? What if he thinks it's something to do with me? I have visions of being hauled out the exam, unable to explain the piece of paper by my foot. How could I prove it wasn't mine?

I inhale silently as Mr Watson strolls past. Bend down and grab the paper, unfolding the sheet under the desk.

Instead of physics formulae, just one scribbled sentence:

BOOK: Now You See Me
3.51Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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