Teach Me Dirty (36 page)

“Speak for yourself,” I laughed. “I’m ready to party.”

“Party?”

“I say party… I mean, finish our wine on the porch and watch the sky.” I brushed the hair back from his face. “Can we do that? I want to see the stars.”

“Yes, we can do that.”

He turned off the water, and wrapped me up in a towel, and I was laughing all over again as I watched him attempt to clear the bath up.

“Christ, Helen, this is everywhere.”

“It was your idea, don’t even try and pin that on me.”

“It was worth the mess, I’m just astounded.”

He towelled my hair, just like my mum used to do when I was a kid, and I felt so young again. Young and happy. I breathed freely.

“Wine and stars?” he said.

“Yes, please.”

He handed me a dressing gown, and towelled down while I wrapped up. He pulled on fresh jeans and shirt, and I just watched, fascinated.

“Don’t think you’re going out in just that, young lady. You’ll catch your death.”

“Enough of the young lady.” I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I’ll get dressed so long as my clothes weren’t caught in the crossfire.” We headed downstairs. “How am I going to explain that, hey? I’m going to have to tell Dad that Lizzie got creative with the poster paints.”

Suddenly it seemed hilarious, and I belly laughed, proper belly laughed.

Mark went to the porch, looked up at the sky. “Clear night,” he said, and then pulled a face and stepped further out.

I picked up my clothes and my phone bleeped from my pocket. I pulled it out and it was flashing.

Weird.

I pressed unlock and it sprung into life.

10 missed calls.

2 new voicemails.

5 text messages.

My heart stuttered.

“Mark, there’s something wrong…”

My fingers were clumsy and I didn’t know which to open first.

He appeared in the doorway and his brows were heavy. And then there was light. It swung through the kitchen windows.

“What the…?” He looked at the clock. “Gone midnight. I don’t even… who the hell could that be?”

He made his way to the front door, and dread gripped me.

My text messages opened.

Lizzie: Helen!! LEAVE!! Your dad is coming. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. x

Lizzie: Hels, please! Answer! I didn’t mean to, I swear. YOU HAVE TO GO! x

Lizzie: God, Helen, ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE! x

Lizzie: HE’S COMING TO GET YOU! I had no choice, Hels, I swear. Xx

Lizzie: I’m so sorry Xx

And then the banging came. Such terrible banging. The noise of it shook the door on the hinges.

It chilled me to the bone. Knocked the stuffing right out of me.

No. No. No
.

Please fucking God, no.

Mark was already there, his hand on the latch.

He opened the door before I could even squeal.

Helen

The horror unfolded in slow motion as Mark swung the door open. I could hear my squeal ringing in my ears, a pitiful sound that was far too little, too late. Mark’s eyes met mine for just a moment before the door was barged in the rest of the way.

And there was Dad. A raging bull. His eyes were wild and his face was red, and he was spitting fury.

He didn’t see me at first, his attention was purely on Mark. He shoved his way into the hallway, and shoved his way into Mark.

“Where the fuck is my daughter?!”

I heard Mum’s voice outside.
“Stay in the car, Katie! Just stay in the car!”

And then more.
“George! Stop it! Don’t do anything crazy, George! I mean it!”

“Where the fuck is my fucking daughter?!”

Mark held up his hands for calm, but this wasn’t a rowdy classroom.

Dad’s voice was a terrible roar. “HELEN! YOU’D BETTER GET YOUR FUCKING ARSE HERE, NOW!”

I pressed myself into the wall, trying to calm my breath, trying to summon up the courage to step into the fury. My eyes widened as Dad came barging in my direction, but Mark took hold of his arm, steered him back.

“Mr Palmer, please… calm down. This isn’t Helen’s fault.”

My heart broke. It cracked in half.

Please, God, don’t take the fire for me. Not for me.

Dad jabbed a finger at Mark’s shoulder and his teeth were gritted. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm fucking down, and don’t you dare fucking speak to me about my own fucking daughter!”

Mum arrived in the hallway, and she grabbed Dad’s arm but he was having none of it.

“GET FUCKING HERE, NOW, HELEN!” Dad’s voice made my stomach burn.

I stepped into view, and I was already crying, even though I hadn’t realised. Mum gasped as she saw me there, damp-haired and in nothing but a dressing gown, but I had no choice.

Mark’s eyes were full of horror. He placed himself between Dad and me, and a heaving sob left my throat.

“Helen, just stay there,” he said, and then he turned to Dad. “You really need to calm down, Mr Palmer. Helen hasn’t done anything wrong. This is all on me, so please, just take it easy on her.”

It was too much for Dad to bear.

The crack of knuckles on jaw was a terrible sound, and I screamed. I really screamed. And so did Mum. I flew down the hallway, straight into the heart of it, but Dad was too far gone. He landed another two punches before I was up in his face, and Mum was trailing from his arm, screaming for him to stop. Mark stumbled, but he didn’t fall. He backed into the wall, and there was blood, it smeared the back of his hand as he wiped his nose, and his lip was bleeding, too.

I wished it was me. I’d have taken ten myself, just to spare him.

I was at his side in a heartbeat and he tried to push me away, but I wouldn’t go. I wouldn’t leave him.

Mum screamed some sense into Dad, just enough to clear the red mist, but he was still raging, still panting, still gunning for blood.

“How fucking long?!” he snarled. “How fucking long? What was she? Sixteen? Fourteen? Twelve fucking years old? When did you decide you wanted a piece of my little girl, you filthy fucking bastard? HOW FUCKING LONG?”

“Dad!” I screamed. “Stop! This is crazy! It’s been WEEKS! Just WEEKS! I’m eighteen years old! I’m an ADULT!”

“YOU’RE NOT A FUCKING ADULT! YOU’RE NOTHING LIKE A FUCKING ADULT!”

I wanted to argue, but Mark gripped my arm. He shook his head, and his nose was still streaming. His eyes were full of fear, and it tore me apart to realise it was all for me.

But I wasn’t afraid of Dad. I wasn’t afraid for myself.

It was all for him.

Dad looked me up and down like I was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen. “GET DRESSED!”

My breath hitched. “No,” I said. “I’m not leaving.”

“GET FUCKING DRESSED, OR I’LL DRAG YOU TO THE FUCKING CAR AS YOU ARE!”

And Mark’s hands were up again. “Enough,” he said. “Nobody is going to be
dragging
Helen anywhere.”

Mum’s voice was thick with fear. “Get dressed, Helen,” she said. “Please, love, for God’s sake, get dressed!”

I moved. Ducked around the corner where I pulled my clothes on with shaking hands.

Dad’s voice was a low growl, full of hate.

“You’re a disgusting, despicable piece of shit. Where are your fucking morals?”

“George!” Mum hissed. “Stop it!”

But he had no intention of stopping it. “You’d better get up tomorrow morning and clear the fuck out of this town, because I’m going to fucking ruin you. You understand me? I’m going to fucking ruin you. I’ll make sure everyone in this fucking town knows exactly what a perverted piece of shit you really are, and you can fucking count on that. You’re not wanted here, understand? You’re not fucking wanted here!”

I stepped back into the hallway. “Dad, don’t. Please. This isn’t Mark’s fault, it’s mine. It’s all mine.”

“Shut up,” he said. “You’re so fucking naive, Helen.”

Mum stepped towards me. “Come on, Helen, let’s go. Please. Before this gets any worse.”

Like it could possibly get any worse.

One look at Mark’s face told me it could. I nodded but I couldn’t speak. I didn’t have any voice.

Mark took my hand as I passed. “Helen, whatever you want to do… you don’t have to go with them…”

I choked up, blinked tears away.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dad snarled. “She’s coming fucking home with us where she belongs. You have no fucking say in it.”

Mark didn’t even flinch, just stared right at me. “It’s your decision, Helen. Whatever you want to do.”

Dad took a step towards me but Mum blocked him off. “Come on, Helen, love. Please. We can talk at home!”

But I was already home. I was already exactly where I wanted to be.

I looked at Mark and my heart fell into pieces. “I’ve got to go.”

“You don’t.”

“YES, SHE FUCKING DOES!” Dad shunted Mum forward but she held her ground.

Mark’s words were nothing but breath. “I don’t want you to go with them, not like this.”

I smiled, the most pathetic smile in the whole world. “I’ll be ok.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise. He won’t do anything to me.”

I pulled my hand from his and it was the worst feeling. It felt as though my soul was tearing, shredded in half down the middle, and it was screaming. It wailed the saddest agony.

I walked away and I couldn’t look back, I daren’t look back, not until I was out through the front door, wobbly on legs that really didn’t want to carry me. Mum and Dad filed out after me, got into the car without another word. I slipped into the back seat, and Mark was in the doorway, watching me. His expression was one of misery. Misery and guilt and pain.

I cried so hard I couldn’t take a breath, my face pressed to the window as the car pulled away, my fingers tight to the glass, reaching out for one last touch.

Oh God, how I wanted one last touch.

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed.

And then he was gone.

***

“How fucking long?” Dad was pacing around the living room.

I perched on the sofa, a dithery mess, struggling for words. “Weeks. Like I said.”

“And you expect me to fucking believe that, do you? Do I look like I was born fucking yesterday?”

I nodded. “It was weeks, Dad. And it was
me
.
I
pushed it.”

He sneered. “You think you’re such a fucking grown up. You know fucking nothing about the world, Helen, nothing at all. He’s been grooming you for years.”

I shook my head. “No. He hasn’t.”

“Think what you fucking want. The guy’s a fucking molester.”

I swatted away a tear. “You’re so wrong. You’re really wrong, Dad. You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“I’M NOT FUCKING WRONG!”

“George!” Mum had her head in her hands. “Please, just stop!”

He stared at me. “I was right, wasn’t I? About that fucking pantomime?” He pointed at Mum. “I fucking told you, Angela. I fucking told you, but nobody ever listens to me.”

“I tried it on, he stopped it,” I said. “That’s why I was upset.”

“Sure he fucking did.”

More tears spilled, flowing faster than I could wipe them away. “I swear it was me. I’ll swear on anything you want. I pushed it, I chased, I pretty much begged. And he fought it, really hard, I swear. He really did.”

“How fucking noble.” He stopped pacing. “That man’s fucking ruined, I’m telling you. Monday morning I’ll be marching straight into that school and I’ll be telling them exactly what the fuck’s been going on.”

“Then I’ll leave,” I said, and there was concrete behind my tears. Cold, dead concrete. “If you make him leave, then I’ll leave too.”

Dad scoffed, and bellowed, and slammed his fist into the wall. “You’re not fucking leaving anything, Helen! Don’t even think about it! You’re not fucking going anywhere!”

“I mean it,” I said. “I’d fail anyway. If you make him go away, then I’ll go, too. I’ll go anywhere. I couldn’t bear it. I wouldn’t even care anymore.”

Mum got to her feet, hands wringing. “Think about this, George, just think! You go all guns blazing and you’ll ruin everything! Helen’s got exams! She’s got studying! She’s got university, George! Just think about that!”

“
She
should have fucking thought about that before she got in that pervert’s fucking bed, Angela!”

Mum shook her head. “I’m not saying it’s right. It’s not
right
, George! I’m saying there’s considerations to be made! Helen needs to finish her exams, George! She needs to pass!”

“So, what do you expect me to do about it?!” he snarled. “Just let it fucking happen?” He jabbed a finger towards her. “I’m not just going to sit here and let that fucking pervert take advantage of my daughter, Angela. You can fucking forget it.”

“
Our
daughter,” she said. “Do whatever you want, but, please, for God’s sake, at least let her finish her exams first!”

He stared at me so hard it made my skin freeze. “You won’t be seeing him again, understand? No phone calls, no fucking painting workshops, no fucking internet, no late nights from school. Nothing. NOTHING!”

“And then what?” I cried. “And then you’ll leave him alone?”

He didn’t answer me, not for ages.

“This is such fucking bullshit,” he seethed. “The man should be fucking disgraced. He should be GONE!”

“George!” Mum hissed. “Please!”

I forced my voice out. “If I don’t see him again, you’ll leave him alone? Is that what you’re saying?”

Dad folded his arms, glared at me. “I don’t know what I’m fucking saying!”

The silence was putrid and horrible.

Mum sighed. “We just have to do what’s right for Helen, George.”

“And what about him?!” he said. “He just carries on, gets away scot-fucking-free?”

“I don’t give a fuck about him!” Mum cried. “I don’t care, George! I just care about Helen’s exams! I just care about our daughter!”

“AND SO DO I!”

“Then don’t ruin it! Please, George, don’t ruin her A-Levels!”

I didn’t care about my A-levels. Even the thought turned my stomach.

I repeated my question. Calmly. Quietly. “If I don’t see him again, you’ll leave him alone?”

Dad gave a horrible sneer. “I don’t know if I can. I want to rip his fucking spleen out.”

“Dad! If I don’t see him again, will you leave him alone? Yes or no?”

He weighed it up, I could see it written across his face. “If you even said one word to him, Helen. One fucking word outside of class… If you even looked at him…”

The tiniest sliver of relief in my gut. “And you’d leave him alone? If I didn’t?”

“For now,” he snarled. “Until your exams are over. JUST for your fucking exams, Helen. But you’re fucking grounded. Grounded full-time, grounded until your fucking shipped off to university. If I catch wind of you so much as looking at him in any fucking way that isn’t exam related, the whole fucking thing is over, and I’ll be straight into school and I’ll ruin the seedy, disgusting sonofabitch.”