The Summer of Telling Tales Page 15

  Cait looks angrily at Ellie who stares her out.

  ‘What’s the matter, Cait?’ asks one of the girls.

  ‘Got some more rumours about me you want to spread around?’ Ellie says, a cold gleam appearing in her eyes. ‘Hey, I know, why don’t you tell everyone about your lovely dolly collection? Better still, you could bring a few dollies in tomorrow and we could all play with them!’

  Several girls explode into giggles. Some try to bite them back but the more they try, the more infectious the laughter becomes and soon everyone’s involved. Cait’s face crumples into the same pained expression that Ellie used to have when Dad said something nasty to humiliate her in front of other people.

  She darts a glance at Ellie then turns and runs towards the hall doors. As she pushes them open, she catches her toe in the gaping hem of her long dress and trips through the doorway, provoking further snorts of laughter. I stare at Ellie, disgusted, but she doesn’t even notice. The expression on her face is half triumphant, half shocked at the damage she’s done.

  I head out of the hall and find Cait hidden amongst the coats hanging in the cloakroom corridor. She’s crying. I want to say something but before I can form a single word, she scrapes the tears from her face and snaps, ‘What you staring at?’ She pushes roughly past me and runs into the girls’ loos.

  Chapter 47

  Ellie

  ‘So what d’you think?’ I ask Grace as we walk home along the path to the stones, after the rehearsal. She’s not said a single word since we left school.

  ‘About what?’ she asks bluntly.

  ‘Me, as Princess Caraboo.’

  ‘Oh that. Yeah, you were all right.’

  I zip up my jacket to keep out the cold. ‘You didn’t have to wait for me, you could have gone straight home.’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘Is it Ryan still?’ I ask, shivering.

  ‘No.’ She stares at me and I suddenly feel uncomfortable.

  ‘Then what?’ I ask, putting my head down to avoid her eyes drilling into mine, because deep down I do know exactly what’s bugging her. I just don’t want to admit it.

  ‘The way you treated Cait was horrible,’ she starts to lecture, just like her old self. ‘Ellie, how could you?!’

  ‘The best form of defence is attack,’ I retort.

  ‘Who told you that – Dad?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Well, you were just like him today.’

  ‘I was not!’

  ‘Yes you were. When you had a go at Cait in front of everyone it was exactly like listening to him. You said the same sort of things he would.’

  Memories of Dad hauling me in front of everyone in my cake-smeared dress flash into my mind and I can feel my face reddening with shame. Even my ‘drama queen’ taunt to Cait was below the belt. I remember Dad calling me that until he made me cry.

  ‘I had to do it,’ I tell Grace lamely. ‘To protect ourselves.’

  ‘What from, Ellie?’ she asks me fiercely. ‘Dad’s not here now. Things are different.’

  ‘Oh, you’re so perfect, aren’t you?’ I snap back, angry with her, Dad and myself all rolled into one. ‘Little Miss Wonderful! You never say a bad thing about anyone. Probably because you never say a single word in the first place!’

  But she’s already walking off. She leaves me standing between two stones.

  ‘I don’t care what I said to Cait,’ I shout after her, ‘she’s not going to ruin everything. And what’s more I don’t give a monkey’s what you think!’

  I sit down on the ground, furious with everyone and everything. Even the way the rough grass prickles the backs of my legs through my school uniform irritates me. I push my back into the cold rough stone behind me. It jolts slightly and I tell it that it’s just a stupid lump of rock, stuck in the ground by people who didn’t have Xboxes or Facebook, and had nothing better to do.

  It’s getting dark now but I don’t want to go back to the caravan and face Grace and then Mum, who will be kind and gentle and ask me what the matter is, and even though I don’t want to, I’ll end up telling her. So I stay right where I am, leaning against the stone, wondering what would happen if I never move from this spot.

  Ellie, I tell myself, that’s your stupidest, most bonkers idea of all your most stupid, bonkers ideas. Even if no one ever notices me sitting here in a pathetic little strop, I’ll eventually starve. My decomposing body will be buried under grass and leaves and maybe in a hundred years’ time someone will find a small pile of clean white bones and people will start making up tales about who I was and how I got here. One moment I’ll be a Bronze-age human sacrifice, the next a wandering tramp frozen to death. And some bright spark is bound to think I was one of the Maids, who croaked it escaping from her stone prison. But no one will ever know the truth. No one will realise I was just a silly little girl who made up stories and told tales to everyone, especially herself.

  I didn’t like who I was before we left Dad and our old home but now I’m realising who I really am, I hate what I see. The brand new Elle Smith who everyone thinks is great! Who am I kidding? Grace is right. I’m not brand new at all, I’m just plain old Ellie Smith, the girl who’s turned into her bully of a Dad. There’s nothing great about that.

  I check my watch. Dad will be home from work by now. Maybe the reason I’m always thinking about him is because we’re so alike – two of a kind. My heart starts to beat faster as I fight to push thoughts of him out of my head. I don’t want to be like him. Why can’t I be like Grace or Mum, or Mum’s parents? Even Dad’s parents would be OK, I suppose. I’ve never seen them and they’re both dead now, but Dad was always going on about how they were so perfect and did everything right and ‘brought him up properly to the highest standards’. Why can’t I have been like them?

  A clammy sea fog is closing in all around me and I can hardly make out the outlines of the stones. In the cold misty twilight they seem to blend and melt and mingle, like they’re moving, I think with a shiver.

  Hypnotised, I watch them for maybe a minute, maybe an hour – I don’t know how long. Then out of the corner of my eye, I see them coming towards me. Two tall dark shapes and a little one. I let out a scream.

  A bright light shines into my eyes and Mum, Grace and Bruno are by my side. Grace is holding a torch. They help me up then Mum hugs me tightly, the warmest, safest hug I’ve ever felt. Bruno nuzzles my legs but they’re so numb they feel like they might give way any moment. Mum rubs my frozen hands in hers.

  ‘Ellie, what on earth are you doing out here?’ she asks.

  Chapter 48

  Grace

  ‘Into that hot shower, right now,’ Mum orders. ‘You’ll catch your death if you don’t warm up.’

  Ellie doesn’t argue. I glance at her as Mum ushers her into the tiny bathroom. She looks different. I try to work out what’s changed and finally realise the spark has gone from her eyes.

  Mum heats up some soup and when Ellie is dressed and wrapped up in the quilt for extra warmth, we sit down together at the little table and eat the quietest meal we’ve had since we left Dad. Mum watches Ellie who keeps her head down as she slowly sips her soup.

  Finally Ellie looks up and asks, right out of the blue, ‘Mum, are you like your dad?’

  ‘How do you mean?’ she asks. ‘Do I look like him?’

  ‘No. Are you like him? Do you think like he did? Act like him?’

  Mum pulls a face and shakes her head. ‘Auntie Anna is more like your grandad than me.’

  ‘So you’re not like him?’

  ‘He was the sort of person who wouldn’t be pushed around. Before he came to this country he spent most of his time standing up to people who could easily have had him killed. You’ve got to be made of strong stuff to do that.’

  ‘You stood up to Miss Turner,’ I say.

  ‘Not quite the same thing,’ Mum replies. She bites her lip and looks as if she might cry. ‘Anna got cross with me once and told me I a
void confrontation like small boys avoid soap. But I suppose we are who we decide to be.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, we’re bound to have traits in us from our parents – same hair colour, say, or the shape of our nose. But we’re not them. And we’ve got a choice in what we do. I remember Gran complaining that Grandad was so strong-headed and stubborn, but he’d just tell her that he and his dad clashed all the time. “Jeden jaka druhy,” he’d say. “One like the other.” But they weren’t the same. Gran told me the reason the secret police knew about that concert was that Grandad’s dad had told them.’

  ‘That’s terrible!’

  ‘He was a government official – part of the system. He did what he thought he had to.’

  ‘Grandad must have hated him!’ says Ellie.

  Mum takes the quilt in her hands and points to a threadbare piece of green silk.

  ‘This was part of the tie your great-grandad often wore. Grandad took it with him when he left for that concert. I think he knew that he’d never see his dad again.’

  That evening, in our little bedroom, Ellie and I don’t say a word to each other and the following day there’s a really strange atmosphere between us as we walk to school in total silence. It’s really weird for Ellie to be so quiet. We’re like strangers instead of sisters. I don’t see her during school and don’t hang around for her while she’s at rehearsal.

  I walk out of school thinking about Ryan as usual, but instead of going straight home I find myself heading down to the market, to his house, even though I know he’s not there.

  The place looks sad and forlorn. A couple of bodyboards have blown under a large straggly bush and grass is growing through the broken go-cart. I’m about to walk on when I see Ryan’s dad coming along the pavement towards me.

  ‘Grace,’ he calls, ‘how are you?’

  I force a smile and nod. ‘OK, thanks,’ I mumble. ‘How about you?’

  ‘Stuffed full of pills, but apart from the rattle, can’t complain.’

  ‘And the twins? And . . . Ryan?’ I hear myself ask.

  Now it’s his turn to paste on a smile. ‘They were OK last week. They’re starting new schools tomorrow. So I guess they’ve settled in.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I say, biting back the tears.

  ‘Yeah.’ His voice is hoarse.

  ‘Better go then.’

  He nods. ‘They’ll be back in a month or so – just for a few days. Come round.’

  ‘OK, thanks,’ I say, knowing full well I won’t.

  He manoeuvres his wheelchair up the garden path, opens the front door and goes inside. I walk off down the road but as I turn the corner, a taxi passes. One of the passengers is waving madly at me but it takes a few seconds for me to realise that it’s Harry. Shocked, I turn around and see the car pull up outside Ryan’s house. The passenger doors fly open and Harry, Ryan and Tom pile out. The driver takes two suitcases from the boot as Ryan waves to me. It’s only by clamping my hands over my mouth that I can stop myself crying out with joy.

  ‘We’re home!’ Harry shouts. The two boys run up to their front door and knock noisily. Ecstatic, I rush back to meet Ryan, who runs along the pavement towards me and hugs me tightly.

  ‘I’ve missed you, Grace,’ he whispers.

  ‘I’ve missed you too,’ I reply, my voice choking.

  Ryan’s dad appears at their front door. ‘What’s going on?’ he asks, confused.

  Ryan doesn’t take his eyes from my face as he says simply. ‘It’s OK, Dad. Mum’s just changed her mind.’

  His dad tries to look concerned but it’s obvious he’s delighted too.

  ‘Well,’ he says gruffly, after a few seconds. ‘Well. That’s her loss then.’

  Ryan puts his arm around me and we all go inside. Out of the twins’ earshot he explains that living with their mum was a disaster from day one. The intrusion of three wild boys had turned her ordered life, and her tidy two bed-roomed flat, upside down.

  ‘But she definitely knows you’re here?’ His dad asks.

  ‘She paid for the train fare and taxi,’ says Ryan.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re home, son,’ Ryan’s dad tells him, his voice trembling with emotion.

  ‘It’s going to be OK Dad,’ Ryan tells him. ‘We’ll manage.’

  ‘Damn right, we will. Grace, get that pan on. I’ve got a flipping fridge full of sausages!’

  So I start to cook tea while Ryan hurries round, unpacking, piling dirty washing into the washing machine, tidying and clearing up the kitchen. The twins sit on their dad’s lap and he puts his arms around them like he’s never going to let them go.

  ‘It’s a good job you’re back,’ he tells Ryan. ‘I had to tell Mickey down the lifeboat station you weren’t going to play at Beachfest, but there’s nothing to stop you now. I’m counting the days, son. Counting the days.’

  Chapter 49

  Ellie

  When Grace comes in I can hardly believe the change in her. It’s like she’s a completely different person, she’s so happy. She makes up for saying practically nothing to me for the last three weeks by talking non-stop. After twenty minutes I tell her I’m really glad Ryan’s back but I’m just going into our bedroom to do my homework. Mum looks at me, shocked, so out of Grace’s sight I pull a gaga expression. Mum nods and smiles, understanding that for once Grace is doing my head in.

  I don’t sleep a wink all night thinking about what I’m going to do tomorrow and I don’t think Grace does either. In the morning we’re both up really early for school.

  When we get there, she rushes off to find Ryan so I head across the playground, looking for Cait. I see her leaning against the wall near the science labs with PJ and one of his friends. She’s wearing more make-up than usual and has fake tan over her face. The two boys are chewing over last night’s football. Cait hovers by PJ’s side, pretending to be interested. The bell rings for registration and she picks up her bag.

  ‘Hang on,’ he says.

  She hesitates. ‘I’ll be late, PJ.’

  ‘So?’ he asks. ‘Thought you liked being with me?’

  ‘I do, but —’

  ‘I’m the highlight of your day, aren’t I?’

  Cait looks uncomfortable as PJ and his friend exchange smirks.

  ‘Yeah, well, don’t bother meeting me later,’ PJ adds.

  ‘Why?’ Cait asks surprised.

  ‘Obvious, innit? Look at the state of you. More slap than Coco the Clown.’ And with this he walks off with his mate, leaving Cait standing on her own.

  She sees me but quickly looks away and hurries inside and down the corridor toward our form room.

  Seeing my chance I run after her and catch her up. ‘Cait . . .’

  She turns and stares at me, angry and embarrassed. ‘What?’

  ‘I . . . I just wanted to talk to you.’ I’m feeling nervous now.

  ‘Really. Well, I don’t want to talk to you.’ She starts to walk off.

  ‘Hang on.’

  She stops and stares at me. ‘Well?’

  My mouth is dry and for once in my life I’m not sure what to say.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I blurt out.

  ‘For what, exactly?’ she snaps.

  ‘For . . . for everything, I suppose.’

  She stares at me, unsure whether this is just another wind up.

  ‘I mean it. I’ve been horrible.’

  ‘Understatement of the year, Elle.’

  ‘Look, I really am sorry. I mean it. I want to be mates again.’

  ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’ve been thinking about stuff and —’

  ‘Get lost, Elle.’

  ‘Ellie,’ I say, looking her in the eye. ‘My name’s . . . just plain Ellie.’

  She stares back at me unnerved, unsure what to say or do. Our form teacher comes along and chivvies us both into class.

  ‘Hurry up, girls. Bell’s already gone,’ he says as he follows us into the no
isy classroom then bellows at everyone to be quiet.

  Throughout registration Cait eyes me suspiciously. And this is how it goes for the rest of the day. A strange uneasy truce springs up between us. We’re both unsure what’s going to happen next so we give each other a wide berth while all the time secretly watching for one another’s next move.

  It’s only in rehearsals that we actually communicate face to face. We have to. But now we’ve learnt our lines, we both already know exactly what we’re going to say to one another and we also know each other’s motives.

  It doesn’t take more than an hour or two for Abs, Ruby, Shareen and Freya to want to know what’s going on, so I tell them the truth, or at least a short, edited version of the truth. I tell them I’m sorry how I’ve treated Cait and want to be friends again.

  ‘You’re wasting your time,’ Abs tells me. ‘Anyway she hangs around with PJ all the time. He’s got her on a bit of string.’

  Abs is right of course. Cait doesn’t want anything to do with me but I’m still determined to be friendly.

  I catch up with Grace, after school. While I’ve been rehearsing, she’s been watching Ryan play in a football match.

  ‘I don’t want to be like Dad,’ I tell her. ‘And I’m not going to be.’

  ‘So what about Cait?’

  ‘I don’t know how to make it up to her. I tried talking to her but she wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘Deeds not words then, I suppose,’ Grace says with a shrug.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Maybe you should do something,’

  ‘Like what?’ I ask.

  ‘Don’t know. You’ll have to work that one out.’

  Suddenly I have an idea. An idea so brilliant that even Cait couldn’t help forgiving me.

  ‘You go on home, I’ll see you later,’ I tell her.

  ‘What are you up to?’ she asks.

  ‘Just a quick deed,’ I reply, running back inside the school building.

  I cautiously open the door to the hall. Inside it’s deserted and there’s no sign of Mrs Mulligan.

  I creep over to the costume rail and start flicking through them all until I find Cait’s unflattering grey woollen dress. I check the coast is clear then quickly roll it into a ball and stuff it into my bag. I must be bonkers, I think – Mad Mulligan would chop me into a thousand pieces if she saw what I’m doing.