The Great Ice-Cream Heist (6 page)

Outside felt delicious. The air was cool, but with the smell of sunshine that meant they would be in for a scorching day. She did up the buttons of her cardie and stepped into the low rays of light.

‘What did you want to show me?' she asked Jamie.

He grinned. ‘I'm glad you came out.'

Eva started to get impatient. ‘Why exactly am I here and not still fast asleep?'

‘Come with me.' Jamie stepped on to the pavement and began walking away from the house.

‘What? Wait! Where are you going?'

‘Come on, I'll show you. It's the funniest thing ever.' He took hold of her wrist and pulled gently.

Eva glanced back at her house. It was still, the curtains drawn like closed eyes. Dawn warmed the bricks and made the glass golden. She had a little while before Dad woke up.

‘OK, but I can't be long. Dad will worry.'

‘We won't be. I promise.'

The streets were deserted. The tweets and chirrups of small birds cheerleading the dawn were the only sounds. It was as if she and Jamie were the only people left in the whole world. For a giddy moment, Eva imagined wandering the sweet aisles of abandoned shops, driving red sports cars through empty streets, doing anything and everything she wanted without any grown-ups to say no. Then she heard the clink and trundle of a milk float and the world came back with a thump – ah well, it was a nice daydream while it lasted.

Jamie was heading towards the park. At the west gate, he turned right.

‘Are we going to the lodge? Why?' Eva asked.

‘Shh. No. Not the lodge. This way.' Jamie crouched down low, as if he didn't want to be spotted. Eva copied, though she had no idea who they were hiding from. The park had to be deserted at this time of day.

But it wasn't.

There was a group of people on the playing field, loads of them, in tracksuits and trainers and sweat bands. A whole gang of sweaty, puffing, groaning grown-ups.

‘What are they doing?' Eva whispered.

Some of the group ran up and down, lifting their knees as if they were crossing hot coals barefoot. Others rolled on the grass, crunching their stomach muscles and huffing with the dust and the effort. Another group held huge Thor Hammers and were laying into some innocent car tyres with them. The car tyres just took it patiently.

Beside her, Jamie started to giggle.

Eva felt herself smiling too. Grown-ups could be very strange sometimes.

Jamie ducked down behind a bush. His face and hands were dappled with leaf shadow, making him seem camouflaged.

‘It's a boot camp,' Jamie explained. ‘They do it every morning.' He pulled aside a branch so that they could get a better view. ‘You know the best bit?'

‘No, what?'

‘Look at that one there. The one in the pink tracksuit.'

Eva peered out. Then laughed. She slapped her hand over her mouth so that the adults wouldn't hear her.

Melanie. The woman in the pink tracksuit slamming hammers into tyres at the crack of dawn was Melanie, Jamie's social worker.

A dog leapt around her feet, trying, it seemed, to get right in the way of the hammer. Melanie was trying just as hard to make sure he didn't. They were both getting a good workout.

‘That's her dog. Bandit,' Jamie said. ‘She drives up here every other morning and tries not to hit Bandit with a hammer. And she thinks I've got problems.'

A tall man wearing army clothes walked from one group to another. He spoke in a clipped, strong voice, but they were too far away to make out the words.

‘That's Gary,' Jamie said. ‘He's in charge. He used to be a soldier, but now he shouts at civilians for money.' Jamie sounded impressed, though Eva wasn't sure whether it was Gary being a soldier, or Gary making money from shouting at people that impressed him. Maybe both.

Eva settled back on her heels. The sun was a little higher now and the bush they were in cast a long shadow on the grass, like an ogre leaning forward.

‘Jamie,' she said, ‘why does Melanie look after you?'

‘She doesn't look after me, no matter what she thinks. I take care of myself.'

‘Yes, but why is she there at all? You've got a family. Loads of them. Why have you got a social worker too?'

Jamie frowned and tugged a leaf off the bush. He started tearing it into strips. ‘Mostly
because
of my family, I suppose. Michael and Drew went into care, ages ago, but it means Mel has to keep an eye on me. She's looking for any reason to take me away from Mum and Dad. I know she is. But it's not going to happen. I'll never let it happen. She can't take me away.'

‘Why were they in care and not you?'

Jamie let the leaf fall like rain. ‘I wasn't born yet. Mum and Dad . . . they had problems . . . I don't know what really, they don't talk about it much. Dad went away, I know that. So Michael and Drew went too. Mum couldn't manage on her own.'

Why would parents go away? There was only one reason that Eva knew, but it couldn't be that.

She must have looked confused, because Jamie said, ‘I mean he was in prison.'

Eva felt her face flush. Oh. Her eyes darted to the ground. All she could see were the torn bits of leaf.

‘Are you shocked?' There was scorn in Jamie's voice. ‘Just because your life is perfect, doesn't mean everyone else's is.'

‘My life's not perfect!' Eva said hotly. ‘You don't know the first thing about my life.'

‘It looks fine from where I'm standing.'

Could she say? Could she do it? Eva held the words in her mouth like a bad taste. She hadn't said them for a long time. She hadn't needed to; she hadn't met anyone new since it had happened.

‘My mum died,' she said quietly.

Now it was Jamie's turn to look shocked. ‘Really?' he said, in the end.

‘Really.'

‘How? When?' He looked interested. He leaned towards her so that she could see the yellow and gold in his eyes.

‘An accident. Two years ago. A skiing accident.'

‘Skiing?' Jamie said it as if it were an idea he couldn't fit anywhere in his head.

Eva took a deep breath. The air tasted of grass clippings and earth and warmth. It tasted of life here and now, not that time two years ago when the world had splintered and broken. ‘They went on holiday, Mum and Dad, for their ten-year anniversary. I stayed with Gran, so it would be just them. I remember crying when they drove away. I waved from the doorstep for ages, until Gran made me go inside.'

Jamie's eyes were wide as chocolate coins. ‘What happened?'

‘Gran told me what happened. Dad wouldn't ever really talk about it. Gran told me that Mum loved to ski. She was always good at things like that. Brave. Anyway, they'd been told that one of the slopes was closed. It was too dangerous, the snow was too thick. But Mum laughed and said it was the best run and they should do it anyway. Dad said no, but she teased him. She went on her own in the end. Dad was right though – she shouldn't have done it.'

Eva paused. She didn't know if she should say the last thing. The thing that Gran hadn't said, but that Eva had realised. The thing that was a dark, dirty thought inside her and Dad both.

Jamie reached out and laid his hand on top of hers. His nails were black with soil, but his palm was warm.

‘The worst thing,' Eva whispered, ‘the worst is that it wasn't an accident, really. If she'd listened, she wouldn't have died.'

‘You think it was her own fault?'

Eva felt the dark twisty idea, like a worm in her skull. It made her want to scrub her insides clean. ‘If she'd listened to Dad, it would have been different,' she said softly.

Jamie moved his hand away and reached for another leaf to tear. ‘Is that why your dad's so . . . I don't know . . . so odd?'

Eva frowned. ‘He's not odd.'

‘He is a bit,' Jamie said. ‘Complaining about my family all the time. Not letting you go out, wondering where you are every minute of –'

‘He just wants to keep me safe,' Eva interrupted.

‘He just wants to keep you a prisoner, more like.'

‘That's not true!' Eva stood up. ‘It isn't! You don't know anything about him. He's kind and funny and he looks after me.'

‘Don't shout at me,' Jamie said.

‘I can if I want!' Eva shouted.

‘No, I mean it. Mel will hear.'

Eva glanced across at the boot camp. No one was looking their way. ‘You don't care about me or my dad. All you care about is not getting caught. My dad was right about you,' Eva said. ‘Stay away from me, Jamie. Just leave me alone.'

Chapter 10

Dad was still asleep when Eva slipped back into the house. She closed the front door behind her and leaned against the wood. It felt strong and solid; she let her shoulder blades press back on it. She could feel tears burning her eyes. How could Jamie say those things about Dad? Jamie knew nothing. She had the best dad in the world. He'd do anything for her. He might fuss a tiny bit, but it was only because he wanted what was best for her.

And she had gone out without telling him with the one person she'd been forbidden from seeing.

Eva's face burned with shame.

She'd let Dad down, and for what? For a stupid boy who didn't care about her.

She dashed the back of her hand against her face. She wouldn't cry, she wouldn't.

Eva went into the kitchen and filled a glass with water. It was icy cold and as she sipped it she felt the cold spread down her chest and into her stomach. Her breathing settled into a calmer rhythm.

When the glass was empty, she rinsed it and put it on the draining board. Then she flipped the switch on the kettle.

She'd make a cup of tea and take it up to Dad. She hadn't done that for ages. Not since school had broken up. Cup, tea bag, water, milk. Then the careful walk upstairs, holding the mug steady with only a few tiny spills that no one would notice.

Eva stopped outside his room. ‘Dad?' she whispered. She leaned on the door handle with her elbow. ‘Dad?'

Inside, Dad was a hillock of duvet. He groaned and rolled over. His hair was sticking up in a hedgehog head. She put the mug down gently on the bedside table.

‘I've brought you tea.'

‘Morning, Ladybug.' His voice sounded croaky, full of sleep. ‘Is it time to get up? Feels early.'

‘It is early, but I was awake.'

Dad eased himself up on his elbows and dragged a palm across his face like a wet flannel. He had a rash of stubble on his chin that rasped against his hand. ‘You OK, Bug? You sound funny.'

Eva felt a lump rise in her throat. She swallowed to get rid of it. It didn't work.

‘Come and sit down while I drink my tea.'

She perched on the side of his bed, then kicked off her sandals and swung her feet on to the duvet. She folded her legs up so her chin rested on her knees.

‘What's up, Bug?'

There was a long pause. Dad took a sip from his cup.

‘I was just thinking . . . about Mum,' Eva said.

‘Oh.' Dad looked properly awake now. His frowning eyebrows pulled his whole face downwards. ‘I see,' he said. He took another careful sip.

Eva pulled her knees tighter. She wasn't sure how to say what she was feeling. Not without mentioning Jamie, anyway. And she definitely didn't want to mention Jamie.

‘I wondered . . . I wondered, do you still miss her?'

Dad put the cup down on his bedside table. He slept in the middle of his double bed, so he had to turn away from her to reach it. He took a moment to turn back.

‘Where has this come from?' he said finally.

‘I was just thinking about her this morning. I got . . . I got cross.'

‘With her?' Dad looked concerned.

‘No. At least, I don't think so.' She'd been cross with Jamie, hadn't she? It was him saying that Dad was weird that had made her lose her temper. And yet there was a part of her that was angry with Mum. The dark idea worming inside her.

‘Your gran says that anger is part of grieving,' Dad said.

‘Is it?'

‘I don't know. They say so. Counsellors and people like that.'

‘Are you angry?' Eva whispered.

‘I haven't got time to be angry. I've got you to worry about. Jaclyn thinks we should all give in to our emotions and let it all hang out. But she always was a free spirit and that just leads to trouble in the end.'

‘Gran?' Eva was confused. Was Gran a free spirit? Maybe that's why she wore so much purple.

Dad looked suddenly ashamed. ‘I didn't mean anything by that. Your gran has helped me out a lot – I know that. We just disagree sometimes, that's all.'