Doing the Right Thing (43 page)

Ed’s hand crept onto the bed and touched the tips of Addie’s fingers with the tips of his own. “Are your hands badly cut?”

“Apparently I look like I’ve gone a couple of rounds with Edward Scissorhands.”

“Don’t say that. For one very long minute I thought you were dead. If he’d killed you, I think I might have killed him.” Ed meant it.

“God, Ed, you shouldn’t tangle with Spiderman.”

“I thumped him. My fingers still hurt.”

Addie gave them a little squeeze. “My hero,” she whispered.

He wished he was.

“Finn arrested Vee for wrecking your room,” Ed said.

“Oh shit. I want to forget she exists, not have this drag out for months.”

“She’s not pregnant. She never was.” Ed’s hand itched to reach out and brush the hair from Addie’s poor scratched face.

“I was beginning to wonder. So how’s Will?”

“Pissed off.” Ed wanted to leave it there, but he couldn’t. “Not about the baby. He never wanted that. Not with her. He’s pissed off because all of this could have been avoided. It’s my fault. I fucked things up. If I’d let Vee burst in on you two the evening you came back from Robin Hood’s Bay, none of this would have happened. And—and he thinks we—I—”

“That we didn’t just sleep together?”

Ed nodded. “Well, we didn’t just sleep together.”

Addie opened her eyes wider. “I don’t remember…”

“No, I didn’t mean that.” His heart hurt. The thing actually hurt. How could that be? The words moved to his mouth from his head, but got stuck.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Ed lied.

“You look shattered,” Addie said.

“I’m exhausted. Fighting Spiderman wore me out. Is there room in that bed for me?” he asked.

“I can’t hurt him, Ed.”

He tried to pull his hand away, but Addie clung on to one finger with the tips of hers.

“So you’ll hurt yourself instead?”
And me,
he wanted to add.

“He’s your brother. You’re friends. You run a business together. I won’t come between you. I’m not that important.”

“Christ, Addie. Listen to yourself. If you want him, go for it.” He wanted the words back. That hadn’t been what he’d been trying to say.

She moved her hand. “I’m tired.”

Ed got to his feet.

“I’ll come and see you.”

“Don’t,” Addie muttered. “I can’t do this, Ed. I can’t come between you and Will.

We all have to let this go.”

“Addie? Oh, your poor face. Christ! Addie, sweetheart?”

The voice pulled her back from a world where she was safe. Suddenly her hands hurt, her ribs ached and she remembered.

“I’m so sorry, angel. I’d give anything for this not to have happened to you. The nurse has only let me in for a minute. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I know I keep saying that, but I need you to understand how much you mean to me. I wish I could turn back the clock and meet you all over again, because I’d never let you out of my arms.”

Once upon a time, that was what she’d wished too.

“I want to spend the rest of my life looking after you. When you get out of here, I want to take you on holiday. Anywhere you like.”

She opened her eyes and looked straight at him. Will smiled.

“Vee’s gone,” he whispered. “Really gone. I want you to come to London and move in with me. If you don’t want to work for me, I’ll help you find a job. I know you and Ed— Well, it’s okay, Addie. I let you down. You’ve never done anything wrong. Never.

I want to make everything right. Please give me another chance.”

Beneath the sheet, Addie clutched the little gray bear Ed had given her, squeezing it in her fingers. “Go away,” she muttered.

As her eyes closed again, she heard him give a shaky sigh.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ll always love you.”

Addie waited until he’d gone before she pulled the bear out and pressed it to her face. She buried silent sobs in its fur.

* * * * *

She had one night in hospital before Hugh collected her and took her to her mother’s. There was nowhere else to go. Her room was still under investigation by scene of crime officers. Addie was installed in her childhood bedroom. Her mother delivered meals on trays, most of which Addie flushed down the toilet. The meals came with plenty of advice, all of which went the same way.

Lisa and David were the first permitted to visit.

“How are you?” Lisa asked, clutching a Christmas present and a box of mints.

“Sore.”

“I was so scared.” Lisa glanced at David and he hugged her. “Made me realize you never know what’s going to happen in life. I’ve decided to stop being mean to David.”

“Now he’ll be even more unbearable,” Addie said.

“We’re engaged,” David said. “We wanted you to know first because if it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t have met.”

“I’m really sorry, Lisa,” Addie said.

David stuck out his tongue. “Just don’t tell anyone, okay? And act surprised when we announce it.”

“I want to apologize,” Lisa said. “Sorry, Addie. Sorry for ever thinking Vee could be right about anything. We talked about you. I wish I’d never said anything to her.”

“David, go away,” Addie said.

He rolled his eyes but got to his feet.

“And don’t listen through the wall.”

“I’ve never done that,” he said, twisting his mouth.

“No, but I have. So I know how easy it is.”

He laughed and Addie heard his steps on the stairs.

“Go all the way down. I know that trick too,” she called.

They heard the thump of him descending. Lisa put the Christmas present and the mints on the bed. “For you. I’m going up to my parents’ this afternoon and David’s bringing me back to make the announcement here.”

“What did you tell Vee?” Addie asked, undeflected.

And as Lisa spoke, Addie realized that it hadn’t been Will at all. Vee’s information about her losing her virginity had come from Lisa. All Vee had done was manipulate it until it fitted her design.

“I really am sorry, Addie. Can you forgive me?” Lisa asked. “I had no idea she’d done that to your room. I left her in the house while I went out with David.”

Addie forgave her, but knew things wouldn’t be the same between them.

No sooner had David and Lisa gone, than Finn appeared.

“How are you feeling?”

Addie thought she was going to get fed up of hearing those words and fed up of lying and saying she was fine, when she wasn’t fine at all. She stuffed a chocolate in her mouth.

“We’ve brought you a present. It’s from the three of us,” Finn said and handed her a mobile phone. “It’s for Christmas, but we thought you’d like it now in case there was anyone you wanted to call. It’s a pay-as-you-go. There’s a hundred pounds’ worth of credit on it.”

“Thanks, Finn. That’s great,” she said.

They couldn’t know that she had no one to call.

* * * * *

Ed and Will phoned the house. When she refused to speak to them, they turned up—though never together. Addie wouldn’t see them. Flowers arrived from both.

Addie wouldn’t have them in her room. She wanted to forget and they wouldn’t let her.

A large check arrived from Will to cover the damage done by Vee. Addie ripped it in half.

Addie didn’t leave her bedroom, seldom stirred from the bed. She lay curled up, clutching the little gray bear, waiting for her heart to stop aching or to simply stop. Ed and Will had been defeated by her mother. Although she’d said she didn’t want to see them, they’d accepted it. A tiny part of her wished one of them had forced his way in and raced up the stairs to save her. But maybe that only happened in the movies. In the end, Addie realized nothing was going to happen. Unless she did something, her life would just go on in its dreary, disappointing way. She had to save herself.

She’d spent too much of her life saying sorry. Things had to change.
She
had to change. How could she expect anyone to love her, if she didn’t love herself? She
was
worth loving. There was nothing wrong with her. Only she didn’t want to be
in
love because it hurt. She could have neither Will nor Ed because having one would destroy the other. So she’d done the right thing and given them both up.

Then she cried because she didn’t want both of them, she only wanted one and she would never be able to tell him.

* * * * *

Addie didn’t venture downstairs until the day before Christmas Eve. She waited until her mother had gone out. Mince pies cooled on the work surface. Addie wondered if her mother had counted them, ate one anyway and rearranged the rest so there was no gap. The mince pie was followed by packet of cheese straws. She’d only meant to eat one and hadn’t been able to stop. Addie almost threw the packet in the bin but knew her mother would notice. She opened the drawer to get the key to the back door in order to hide the evidence in the dustbin and made a discovery.

Twenty “get well soon” cards from friends and students at Easyspeak language school and one from Magelan’s signed by everyone in the office and garage, even Genghis. But not by Will and Ed. Every envelope had been opened. Addie sat and read the messages and felt overwhelmed. Why had her mother hidden them?

She made herself a cup of coffee, sat and waited.

“About time you pulled yourself together,” her mother muttered as she walked into the kitchen. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”
Like death.

Joan stared at the mince pies, then looked at Addie.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Addie asked.

“You could have washed the dishes.” Joan turned on the tap and began to fill the bowl. “I’ve put two hundred pounds in your bank account. You can buy more Christmas presents and pay me back when you get another job.”

“Thank you.”

“Obviously, you’ll have to live here for a while. I won’t charge you rent, you can help me around the house. What’s happened isn’t entirely your fault.”

Addie knew that was what she’d been waiting for. The blow to knock some sense into her head.

“None of it is my fault. Do you think I wanted to be attacked?”

Her mother harrumphed. “You left the door open. You were asking for trouble.

Then you tried to fight. You didn’t use any common sense.”

The fact that her mother was right, made it worse. But Addie wouldn’t back down now. She wanted answers.

“Why didn’t you give me all the get-well cards?”

Her mother scrubbed at a saucepan.

“Why didn’t you want me to know that people cared about me?”

Silence.

“Why don’t you love me?” Addie tried.

Her mother turned away from the sink, her hands dropping suds to the tiled floor.

Addie took a deep breath. “What have I done that’s so bad, you can’t even stand to let me kiss you or hug you? The boys hug you, but you barely tolerate a touch from me.

I don’t understand. What did I do?” Addie tried not to sound hopeful with her next question. “Was I adopted?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve seen your birth certificate. You know whose child you are.”

Addie watched the soapy drops making a puddle on the floor, and couldn’t raise her eyes to her mother’s face because she’d desperately hoped for adoption, hoped she wasn’t related to this person who disliked her. Then she looked up, because whatever the truth, she needed to know.

“You don’t even like me.” Addie stared straight at her mother. “You’ve never said you’re proud of me, that I look nice, or that I’m pretty. It’s almost as though you take delight in finding me a disappointment.”

Joan grabbed a tea towel and dried her hands. “I just want you to make something of yourself, be someone.”

“I am someone,” Addie shot back. “I’m—”

“You have no job, no money, and no foot on the housing ladder.”

“If you remember, I came back to Leeds because I was asked to. The job at Booth’s was a stop-gap. I can look for a proper job now.”

Her mother snorted. “Doing what with no skills, no professional qualifications?”

“I have a degree.”

“What use is Japanese if you don’t like Japan? You only did it because you knew your father and I would think it was a waste of time. That’s been you all along.

Deliberately awkward. I did everything I could to make sure you turned out right, but you resisted me all the way.” Her mother’s eyes tightened, every line on her face seemed deeper.

Addie wouldn’t back down. “Nothing I ever did was good enough. You’ve never loved me. Dad didn’t either. You never put your arms around me, never said you loved me.”

Her mother said nothing. She turned and put her hands back in the washing up bowl. Addie swallowed hard. This wasn’t going to end with them crying in each other’s arms. Then her mother spoke again, her back toward Addie.

“I was raped.”

The words hung in the air between them as though her mother wished them back and Addie wished them not heard. Three words and Addie thought she understood everything. Her mother washed a glass, rinsed the soap away and put it on the draining board.

“The result of the rape was a nasty sexually transmitted disease and you. How could anything beautiful come out of that?”

Addie realized she hadn’t understood at all.

Her mother’s flat voice went on, addressing her image in the window, not Addie. “I was coming out of church. I’d been to do the flowers and your biological father grabbed me in the graveyard. He wore a balaclava, but I saw his eyes. You have the same eyes.

The exact. Same. Vile. Eyes.”

Her mother turned around. Addie wanted to hold her but the look on her mother’s face was one of hate. The last spark of hope in Addie fluttered and went out.

“The boys don’t know and I don’t want them to. I didn’t want you to know. But you pushed and pushed.”

Addie’s world slammed to a halt.

“Satisfied now? I won’t say any more about it, so don’t mention it again. I could have had you aborted, but I thought it was wrong. Silas was a decent man and accepted you as if you were his. We did our best, but it wasn’t enough. Whatever genetic donation you got from that man dominates what I gave you.”

There was complete silence. Even the kitchen clock held its breath.