Honest (3 page)

‘The water
turned cold.’ I stammered, while the last of it dripped from my nose. Dad was
wearing his work clothes now, but he hugged me close to him even though the
towel must’ve been wetting his outfit.

He looked down
at the tub and frowned. ‘There’s no water in there, flower.’

‘It went ice
cold and drained away, I swear,’ I said, looking him in the eyes, pleading with
him.
I am not going mad
, I thought.
This happened
.

He nodded
slowly, looking back at me. ‘All right,’ he said softly. ‘If you say it did
then fine, we’ll get a plumber in. Did it scare you, or make you hurt your knee,
or...What was it, love?’ he shook his head, searching for answers. I couldn’t
give him any. I’d just felt so horribly cold and alone that I couldn’t stand it
anymore, that was all. And it had been so dark.

I shrugged,
helpless. His eyes softened. ‘It’s early. Perhaps you didn’t get enough sleep.’

‘I’m not
lying!’ I cried.

‘Shh, shh. I
know you didn’t, my little pet. It’s just I think you’ve had a hard couple of
days and not enough sleep. It probably shook you up a bit. It’s just a problem
with the plumbing, that’s all.’

I glanced down
at the ugly tub, resenting it sitting there in the gloom when moments ago I’d
felt so warm and peaceful. I was about to ask to go to my room when something
caught my eye, though I had to squint hard to see it.

‘They ought to
put a bigger window in here, eh El’? It’s too bloody dark—’

‘Dad, look,’ I
said, nodding at the thing I was staring at, way down in the depths of the tub.

‘What?’ he
asked, his eyes scanning it up and down.

I unfolded my
arm from the towel and pointed a long finger at the dark shape at the base of
the tub. ‘The plug,’ I said, my voice quavering.

We both stared
in silence at the wide round plug, still nestled solidly in the plug hole.

Once I was
dried and warm again I cheered dad up by using the manky old stair lift, even
though the hall was dark as the bathroom and it was difficult getting myself in
for fear of tripping on the steps.

Dad sighed.
‘It was bright sunshine early this morning, and now look. Just look out that
front window.’ He pointed to the window beside the front door, taking the
stairs one at a time alongside me, at the dreary sight outside.

‘Rain,’ I
said. ‘Typical summer weather.’

‘It does
nothing for the light in this house, it really doesn’t. We’ll be using the
lights twenty–four–seven if it keeps this up. It’s grim. We mustn’t let it
dampen our spirits though must we, flower?’

The stair lift
clunked to a halt at the bottom. I lifted the stick from my lap and used it to
get up, while dad ushered me towards the little kitchen. He’d unpacked
everything, and now the cramped little place was starting to look like a home.
I took a seat at the little round table and poured myself some cornflakes,
while dad set about making me a cup of tea.

It was dark
and gloomy, sure, but it wasn’t so cold anymore. I was beginning to feel less
shaken by the event upstairs, even if I still wasn’t quite sure what I’d
experienced.

All I knew was
that the whole time all I could think about was Peter Denton, and I couldn’t
tell my dad about it. He would get too upset. He was
always
upset when I
mentioned Peter.

‘I’m sorry
about earlier,’ I said, picking at my cornflakes with my spoon. ‘I was probably
just tired, like you said.’

Dad poured the
kettle and smiled at me while he stirred the teabag. ‘No, no, we’ll still get
that plumber out. If you say the water drained away, then the water drained
away.’

I had to think
about that one. Had it happened, or had I been half asleep? My mind was fogging
up. I shook my head and stuffed a spoonful into my mouth to stifle the confusion
and just focused on chewing.

Dad brought
the tea to the table and took a seat next to me, having no breakfast of his
own. ‘I nipped out for a paper at about six this morning and saw a young lad
getting on a fishing boat with a bunch of other blokes. I’m sure I recognised
him. Didn’t you have another little friend around here?’

I knew
instantly who he was talking about. ‘David Peirce,’ I said.

Dad shrugged.
‘He looked up at me like he knew me, and I certainly recognised him. He’s grown
a lot in three years.’

‘Guys do,’ I
said. ‘He must be about eighteen now. He knew Peter.’

Dad blinked
and stared at the ceiling. We shared a silence while I chewed my cornflakes,
wondering what David must look like now, and what he thought about everything
that had happened.

‘Well, that’ll
be a nice friend for you,’ he said in almost a whisper, neglecting to meet my
eyes. ‘Perhaps he’ll come around to see you.’

‘I doubt it,’
I said, knowing where this was going. Dad was playing games. The truth was he
hated
the thought of any guys coming near me, especially without him around.

‘Well he
might,’ he said, looking at me.

I couldn’t
stand the look on his face, as if he expected me to answer up to something; as
if I’d been unfaithful or had unfaithful thoughts. I spooned another mouthful
of cornflakes into my mouth and nodded in agreement instead, making him flush
red from the neck up. ‘Yeah, I guess he might. I’d be glad to see him,’ I lied.

‘Well,’ said
dad, getting up and pushing his chair in. ‘I’ve got to get off now, but I’ll be
back by five. I’ve unfolded your chair and put it in the hall in case you need
it. If that David boy
does
come to see you, I hope he’s willing to be as
attentive as I am to your needs.’

‘Don’t be like
that, Dad,’ I said mid–chew, but he was already slamming the front door before
I could even swallow my mouthful.

Chapter Three

David was one
of the only other people I knew who was friends with Peter at the time he died,
and that meant I needed to see him right away. He was all I had left of our old
life here; the life that had drifted away from me three years ago. The life I
desperately wanted back.

Dad left,
after warning me to stay home for when my new counsellor, Melanie, arrived at
one o’clock. I wheeled myself to the living room and checked myself in the
mirror. I didn’t look a bit how David would remember me. I was a good couple of
stone lighter, skinny in fact, from all the trouble with my knee. My hair was
shorter. My brown eyes had permanent dark circles around them now.

I couldn’t
help getting saddened by the fact that David had to see me like this, let alone
anticipate the awkwardness between us. He knew everything, after all: where
Peter died, that I was with him, that I almost lost my leg on the boat
propeller. He knew that Peter’s dad was in prison.

He knew that I
put him there.

But that
couldn’t be helped and besides, people changed. I thought perhaps David was
different now too; or rather, I hoped.

I wheeled
myself into the hall and shivered as I pulled my coat off the banister and
shrugged it on. This house was definitely getting colder, damper. Even the
wallpaper was peeling away. I couldn’t wait to get out of this rotten cottage,
even though I loved it so.

I had a good
few memories here, and yet something about it felt different now; changed or
tampered with, like something was disturbing the atmosphere. It was probably
us. My father and I were back, and we were making the house uneasy.

I had one last
decision to make: chair or stick? I imagined myself struggling down the steep
hill to the quay, rain pelting down on me, but on the plus side I would be tall
and more...elegant–looking. David wouldn’t feel obliged to push me along, and I
could —for the first time in ages — feel capable again. A strong independent
woman, as they said in
Cosmo
.

Then again, I
thought: my knee could give out. I might fall down that hill. I could make it
worse. David might feel obliged to help me home.

Was that such
a bad idea? I wasn’t fond of the guy, not remotely; but in the battle between
sexes that was hardly the point. I’d read enough magazines and watched enough
TV in my time to know that impressions were everything for a woman, no matter
what the purpose or cause.
A woman should always look her best
.

 And David
would be the first male I’d had contact with in a very long time. I’d been
deprived of male company, apart from dad, for years. Deprived of a woman’s
prerogative to show herself off to the opposite sex.

67% of
women think they should always dress to impress no matter who they’re seeing.
You either play the part, or you’re out of the game!

I decided on
the stick.

Leaving the
house was eerier than I’d prepared myself for; I wasn’t used to going out alone
anymore at all. I tugged the front door shut and bowed my head against the
spittle from the sheet of grey cloud hovering above the harbour. Keeping my
eyes on the boats below, I searched for David while I staggered, step by step,
until I spied something coming into the quay. A great fishing boat, piled high
with their catch, was getting dive–bombed by a flock of seagulls.

He had to be
on there; there weren’t many working fishing boats left in Mevagissey. I
hurried, my knee throbbing, past all the little shop windows and round the wide
bend to the other side of the harbour where I would wait for him. The boat
seemed to take forever to come in, and the wind whipped my hair to rat’s tails,
but I leaned against my stick and watched until I spotted his familiar figure
emerging from the boat. I gritted my teeth and screamed inwardly as my knee
cramped up from my too–brisk walk, but I didn’t care.

I needed him
to know that I was back, and I’d survived.
Really
survived.

It was
reported that 34% of women admitted to being in an abusive relationship. Do YOU
need to breakaway?

When he got
closer I waved my arm frantically, and after a moment’s pause, to my relief, he
waved back. I was taken aback by his appearance; the boy David had changed. The
pimpled, skinny–limbed fifteen year old I remembered had shot up to around
5”11, which compared to my 5”4 seemed a big difference. His skin was clear and
his hair, a rich chestnut brown, was released from underneath the beanie hat in
one snatch of his large hand.

I was still
waving when he came just a few feet in front of me. I was just so...captivated
by the change in him. Somehow I’d almost believed I would see the boy I used to
know coming towards me. I dropped my arm immediately and smiled back at David
the man, who smiled with a row of straight off–white teeth. His eyes, green as
seaweed, looked drowsy under his heavy brow.

He looked
tired, his healthy teenage glow almost evaporated.

‘David!’ I
said, because I didn’t know what else to say.

‘Ellen,’ he
said back, shrugging his shoulders in his big plaid coat. ‘How have you been?’

I blinked.
What could I say to that? I decided to be honest. ‘I’ve been...Pretty normal.
Usual stuff. How about you?’

‘Pretty much
the same,’ he said. He looked at his feet, then back to me. ‘I saw your dad
this morning. I didn’t think you were ever coming back to town.’

A lump rose in
my throat. He remembered everything; of course he did. ‘Yeah well, we weren’t,
but dad needs the work again. We
weren’t
ever coming back again.’

David’s smile
faded and the tired look seemed to take over all of his face. I knew what he
was thinking.
You have no business being here.

‘Look, a lot
of time’s passed. There’s no need for us to be weird with each other, is
there?’ I decided to plunge right in with the obvious.
A strong, independent
woman
.

He frowned and
kicked a piece of crab shell into the choppy waters off the edge of the
harbour. ‘Do you ever think about him?’

‘All the
time,’ I confessed. ‘All the time. I never stop thinking about Peter.’

‘I meant his
dad,’ said David, squinting against the wind. Up ahead, a man was smacking a
fish against the concrete by its tail, snuffing out its life. I felt the impact
in my gut.

‘His dad?’

David nodded.
‘He’s still in prison.’

What could I
say? I searched his eyes, immediately suspicious. Perhaps the old David I’d
known hadn’t changed at all. ‘What are you trying to say, that I have something
to be ashamed of?’

David frowned.
‘No.’

‘Are you sure?
Because it sounds like you think I have something to be guilty about. If he’s
still in prison it’s because he deserves to be there.’

‘I know!’ he
held up his hands in protest. ‘I just meant...Oh, Ellen I’m sorry. It came out
all wrong. I just mean to say that...Well, it’s a lot to come back to.’

I pressed my
lips together, suppressing my frustration. Perhaps I had jumped the gun. If I
wasn’t careful, I’d say something I would regret. ‘Fine,’ I said, faking a
smile. ‘You’re right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get nasty.’

David pocketed
his hands. ‘You look cold.’

‘I am cold.’ I
changed hands with my stick and shifted my weight. The weather was going to get
to my knee soon enough, and then I’d be sorry. I knew I couldn’t stand out here
too long. I was still weak, and felt as though I could be swept into the sea
like a stray shred of paper.

‘Look, I’m not
working tomorrow. You remember my dad’s boat?’ he pointed to the boat he’d just
emerged from, where five or six men were unpacking.

I nodded.
‘Course. I always knew you’d go into fishing.’

He smiled.
‘Well I only help out, you know, when he needs it and that. We should go out
tomorrow and catch up. I drive now too.’

‘Wow,’ I said.
‘You do?’

‘Yep. I’ve got
my own little banger to get around in. I’ll take you to see Pete, if you like.
I mean, only if you—’

‘Yes,’ I said
quickly, my heart fluttering at the notion. It’d be like a reunion, the three
of us together again. It was perfect. ‘That’d be fantastic.’

‘Cool,’ he
said. ‘About lunchtime?’

I nodded,
grinning so hard it felt unnatural. I could hardly believe I was even out here,
standing with David, talking about Peter as if he was still alive. My smile
faded. ‘It really has been such a long time, hasn’t it?’

David nodded
softly. ‘Yeah, it has.’ He looked at my stick. ‘Your leg still bothering you?’

‘It’ll always
bother me,’ I said, shrugging. The slight shower quickened, and we both looked
up at the dark clouds above.

‘It’s going to
rain hard any minute now. Are you still up there in that old cottage?’

‘Yep,’ I said,
waving my stick. ‘Up that hill.’

‘I’ll drive
you,’ he said, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket. ‘Save you the trip.’

I knew it.
I knew David would help me home
.

I tucked my
hair behind my ears and let him guide me towards his car, parked just beneath
the cliff. He even helped me inside, laying my stick down on the backseat. As
he slammed my door and made his way to the driver’s seat, I took the
opportunity to fluff my damp hair up and wipe the mascara from beneath my eyes.
When he got in I flashed my best smile.

‘Thanks for
this,’ I said. I noticed a fluffy pink charm hanging from his car keys. ‘What’s
that, a monkey?’

He laughed as
we pulled out and turned to go around the harbour. I only had a few seconds in
the car and I wanted to make the most of it. I breathed deep, taking in his
scent: sea salt.

‘Yeah,’ he
said, laughing. ‘It was a present. Hey, I’m sorry if my clothes smell. Fishing
comes with obvious downsides. I must smell like a—’

‘Not a bit,’ I
insisted, though it was a lie. I figured I’d ignore the smell of the day’s
catch clinging to his woolly coat.

‘Right,’ he
said, rolling his eyes, but he smiled all the same. I could see a little dimple
in his cheek when he did it. Had he always had dimples like that?

He changed gears
as we went up the hill, engine roaring, until he came to a halt outside the
cottage.

‘This is
really considerate of you,’ I said. I wondered what dad would say if he knew I
was sitting in David Peirce’s car. I could imagine his head going so red it
burst. Then again, what would Peter think of me being here?

A wave of
something horrible came over me. I couldn’t stand the thought of it anymore; of
what Peter might think about us being here together when he didn’t have the
option. He would always be dead while I limped on through life, broken.

‘You’re
welcome,’ said David, cranking the hand break. ‘So I’ll come at lunch tomorrow
to take you to see Peter?’

Tears prickled
my eyes. ‘That’s so kind.’

‘No it isn’t,’
he protested. ‘It’s the least I could do. I knew you’d want to go and see his
grave again.’

The horrible
feeling subsided. I let out a long breath. I felt like I should repay David
somehow, just for being so nice to me. In truth I hadn’t been sure what kind of
reaction to expect if I ever met old faces again. There weren’t many that I
could trust.

I knew one
thing I could do for him.
72% of women say that you should act on impulse a
few times in your life.

 I looked at
him under my eyelashes and smiled, making an effort to put emotion in my eyes,
however the hell you did that. I looked until I could see I’d caught his
attention.

‘Do you want
to come in and see my room?’ I said, my voice carrying over the thudding sound
of the rain on the windscreen. With all the noise of the rain outside, his
breaths seemed closer, more intimate.

David seemed
to freeze, a strange look in his eyes. His hands squeezed the steering wheel.

I understood
him. This kind of...What do they call it,
‘come on’
, sometimes had that
affect on men, or so I’d read in a magazine. I was probably intimidating him.

‘I don’t think
so, Ellen.’ He said, his voice hoarse.

I couldn’t
help but giggle. He was obviously shy; a far–cry from years ago, but that was
okay. I would have plenty of time and privacy seeing as there was nobody else
at the cottage, and I knew he’d get brave eventually. I’d read that some men
needed coaxing.
A strong independent woman.

 I decided to
give him one more chance.

‘Are you sure?
You don’t want to come up and see my room?’ I smiled again.

‘No,’ he said
firmly.

What could I
do? I had to respect that he was nervous. I had to give him time. He’d come
around. Though of course by then, I might have met somebody else. I was free
now, after all; free from dad’s shadow. During the day, at least. Night time
was a different story.

‘That’s fine,’
I said, smiling wider. ‘It’s totally fine. You’ve probably got a lot to be
getting on with.’

That terrified
look remained in his eyes, but he let out a long breath. The windows were beginning
to mist up. ‘I’d better get out or people might get ideas,’ I said, gesturing
at the steamed up glass.

David’s neck
went pink. He cleared his throat. ‘Ellen, you should probably know I’ve got a
girlfriend.’

I blinked.
What was he telling me that for? What did she have to do with what had just
been about to happen between us? ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘That’s nice.’

‘Yeah,’ he
said. He smiled with his mouth, but his eyes remained flat. I’d obviously
shaken him up — perhaps he was afraid of making her jealous. I realised
suddenly that this made me
the other woman
.

I tapped my
nose. ‘Not a problem,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow at twelve?’