Honest (8 page)

‘What does it
matter?’ I said, running my hands through my straggly hair. It was greasy and
in dire need of a good wash — but that was practically impossible. Whenever I
went to the effort of getting in the bath, I got that awful feeling again and
the water ran away down the plug, even with the stopper in.

I’d decided
what was going on with the bath. It wasn’t a plumbing problem. After my
accident on the stairs I couldn’t ignore it anymore. There was no invisible
stranger in my house — it was Peter.

 ‘I’m bored
stiff here. I’m not surprised I sleepwalk, are you?’ I said. Dad didn’t like me
mentioning Peter, or any boy for that matter, so talking of ghosts and
possessions was totally out of the question. I decided to stick to the facts as
closely as I could.

 ‘What can I
do to help, flower? Anything, come on, you name it. I know I’ve been hard on
you, leaving you in the house all day, what with your leg,’ he said,
desperately clutching my hand. I pulled it away.

‘You know what
I want,’ I said.

I couldn’t
resist bringing Peter up just a little; the old, alive Peter that is. It could
work to my advantage. ‘But
he
isn’t here anymore, and nothing’s the
same. I can’t even walk out the bloody house like everybody else because every
time I do my knee starts killing me more than ever. I’m trapped.’

‘You aren’t
trapped, flower,’ he said. ‘You’ve got your chair, and that stair lift I got
you. I did well with that didn’t I, eh?’

‘Yes,’ I
hissed. ‘But it’s not good enough. I’ve got no hobbies, no anything. David’s
being led astray by this idiot girl so I can’t even—’

‘That David
Peirce boy? As far as I can remember, you never even liked him.’ Dad’s eyes
darkened, his lips tightening up. I could sense the movement of his fingers
anxiously picking at the duvet cover. He was getting upset again.

‘I can like
whoever I want to,’ I said, staring him out. ‘I’m just bored, that’s all. Bored
stiff.’

‘I’ve brought
you your magazines, haven’t I?’

I rolled my
eyes. ‘Not good enough.’

‘I’ll...I’ll
figure something out, my little flower. I promise,’ he said. Come evening, dad
came back from the shops with what he called “the best surprise ever”.

He called out
to me from the hall. ‘Close your eyes,’ he said.

I stiffened.
‘Why?’

‘Because I’ve
bought something for you,’ he said, excitement in his tone of voice. What was
it this time, I thought — a cushion for my stair lift?

‘Right,’ I
said, covering my eyes with my hands. ‘Go ahead. Come in.’

With my eyes
covered, I imagined another hideous nightdress like mum’s, or some lingerie, or
something so awful that I would want to shed my skin like a snake for feeling
so grimy. But as dad placed it down on the bed, right over my ankles, my heart
skipped a beat.

I tore my
hands away and stared down at it, my mouth spreading into the biggest grin I’d
had in years. Even Dad was brimming with pride.

‘Five quid in
a charity shop. I’ve not done badly, have I? There, that made you smile,’ he
said.

I couldn’t lie
— it was the most genuine smile I’d worn since before Peter’s death. I
stretched out my hand and stroked the scuffed wood. Then I fingered the
strings, slid my hand along its neck. A soft hum vibrated up through my
fingers.

Dad couldn’t
have possibly known, and I didn’t want him to. The guitar looked exactly like
Peter’s.

Chapter
Eleven

Peter still
had some videos up on his old
Youtube
account, because nobody had
thought to close it down. By the time Melanie called a couple of days later to
tell me that David was going to come to my house to spend time with me, I’d
already learned to strum a few tunes on my guitar. Not much, but after watching
Peter for hours and hours, I’d managed to pick up on some basics.

I’d never
really been into guitar because I preferred watching Peter play, but there was
nothing to do at the cottage and things just didn’t feel like they used to.
This summer I was limited to watching the harbour out of my window, or
listening to my iPod, or running another empty bath. At least by learning
guitar, I could be that bit closer to Peter.

It was Friday
at four o’clock when David came. I’d dressed in a pair of black jeans and a
black T–shirt, and I’d found a length of plum–red ribbon which I tied around my
neck;
Elle
called it the “rock chick” look. I knew David was into that
thing. I’d looked up a few women like Brody from
The Distillers
and
Shirley Manson from
Garbage
just to get a few ideas. I was already
waiting by the door, leaning on my stick despite the pain, when the knock came.

I opened it
and there was David.

And there was
Lauren.

‘Oh,’ I said,
my hand still on the door.
I could close it in her face if I wanted to.

No, no, I
thought — act natural. ‘Well you can come in too if you want, I suppose,’ I
said, opening the door wide. They looked at one another. David pushed the small
of her back and, sighing, she came in first.

We went to the
living room where I’d set up my little hi–fi CD player and had the TV on mute,
just for background movement. I didn’t want to make David feel awkward if he
couldn’t think of anything to say, or if he was still a bit nervous around me
like he was that time in the car. But now that Lauren was here, that changed
everything. He was hardly going to open up to me now.

‘So what made
you want to come round?’ I asked, gesturing for Lauren and David to take an
armchair each. I planted myself in the middle of the sofa. Lauren giggled at
something, giving David another look, but he gave her a kick in the shin.

David bit his
lip and looked around the living room while Lauren watched him, waiting for him
to answer. Eventually she answered for him. ‘Cause you’re having a hard time,
so we thought we could come round and just...I don’t know, give you a bit of
company.’

‘A hard time?’
I said, sorting through the CDS. I settled on a Pattie Smith CD of dad’s. I
didn’t have a speaker for my iPod because it wasn’t one of those expensive ones
and I only used music to fall asleep to anyway. The first song on the CD was
Because
the Night
. I turned it down low. ‘How would you know about that?’ I gave
David a hard look.

I thought he
must have told her all about the night Dennis was arrested and Peter died, but
it wasn’t as bad as all that.
Melanie
was the one who had been talking.
Of course she had, I realised. She’d arranged this whole gathering after all.

Lauren
blinked. ‘Because of what you did a few days ago. When you chucked yourself
down the—’ David kicked her in the shin again, making her yelp. She slapped him
on the arm.

23% of abusive
relationships become violent in the first six months, our survey concluded.

‘That’s not
what happened. I sleepwalk. What, did Melanie tell you that?’

‘No!’ said
David. ‘She didn’t say anything, I swear. Don’t report her for this, all right?
She’s just trying to help.’

‘Wait a
minute, are you saying the only reason you’re here is because she made you
come?’

‘Not the only
reason, no. Well, yeah, I mean—’ This time Lauren kicked him.

‘He doesn’t
mean that,’ she said, her long white–blonde hair swinging over her narrow
shoulder. She was wearing a black
HIM
band T–shirt today.

‘She said she
was going to arrange for you to come over, but I didn’t think she was going to
mention my accident. So this is just a sympathy visit?’

‘Ellen, come
on. Let’s try and be civil,’ said David, resting his chin on his hand. He
already looked bored and I couldn’t stand it. He’d been happier than
this
the first day we were reunited, and now I knew why he had been so cagey with me
since.

‘Be civil? No
we can’t.
She’s
made sure of that!’ I pointed at Lauren, who went pink
in the cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,
what?’ said David. ‘You’re starting on Lauren now?’

‘Yes,’ I said,
indignant. ‘I am. She’s changed you.’

Lauren’s mouth
dropped open. ‘You don’t know anything about him!’ she said, getting up. ‘God,
he’s nice enough to come round even though you’re a bloody weirdo and look at the
thanks he gets. I’m not putting up with this.’

‘I know we
never used to get on that well, but you can’t deny that we have
history
,’
I said, ignoring her and focusing totally on David. Patti Smith sang in the
background.

‘Oh right,
history, yeah. You mean Pete,
my
mate Pete? Well he’s dead and he’s been
dead for years. The only reason you’ve been bugging me since you got here is
because you can’t let go of him. I’ve only entertained you because of him.’
David got up and stood with Lauren, grasping around for her hand. She folded
her arms.

I gasped.
‘That is
not
true! We’ve
always
known each other.’

‘I was willing
to forget all that stuff with Dennis, even though it reeks,’ he said. ‘But I
don’t care what Melanie says, there’s something wrong with you. There has
always been something wrong with you.’

‘What do you
mean it reeks?’ I said. ‘What the heck do you mean?’

‘That whole
trial with Dennis
reeked
then and it still reeks now, and that’s all I’m
saying,’ he said, his eyes firing up.

‘Are you
suggesting I made it up?’

‘I’m saying it
reeks.’ He moved as if to leave, then stopped abruptly. ‘And as for you ringing
Lauren’s house, and mine, you better stop it or else. I know it was you. You’ve
been doing it to me and now you’re ringing her, getting her mum all narked and
everything.’

‘Oh, fat
chance of me doing that. How would I get her number, eh?’

‘I’m sure you
know how to use
Facebook
,’ he said, his eyes narrowing. ‘It doesn’t take
a bloody genius. I mean what do you do all day, eh? What do you actually do with
your time?’

‘Leave it,’
said Lauren, pulling him by the arm. ‘Let’s just go.’

‘No, no, she’s
pissed me off now.’ He stood over me, waiting for his answer. ‘Well? ‘cause
unless you spend all day long going up and down that horrible stair lift, then
I’m willing to bet it’s you whose been ringing our houses. We’ve been getting
emails too — lots of them, all anonymous. Know anything about those?’

‘We can’t
prove it, Dave; let’s just leave her alone all right?’ Lauren tugged his arm
again, but he snatched it away, his face reddening.

‘She’s right,
you can’t prove it,’ I said, fighting away the tears. This was so unfair. Worse
than unfair. ‘I don’t have her number or her email address, and I don’t know
anything about this. As for what I do during the day, I...I play guitar.’ I
gave him a sour smile.

David laughed,
making my blood turn cold. ‘Like Pete did? You know what, you sicken me, and so
does that old man of yours. If anyone’s a nonce it’s him, not Dennis.’

Lauren gasped,
covering her mouth. She let go of his arm and stormed out of the room. I heard
the front door slam.

‘You shut up
about my dad,’ I said. I tried to look hurt, or appalled, or something, but I
just couldn’t. Not at that. Instead I bowed my head and looked at my hands.

‘Yeah, well,
you just keep away from us, all right? And anyway, I’ve got some news for you.
Melanie tried telling you but as per usual you didn’t want to listen to anyone
else but yourself. They’ve let Dennis out early for good behaviour.’

‘What?’ I
said, startled. ‘How do you know that?’

‘It was in the
paper. Jesus, don’t you know anything?’

‘I don’t read
the paper,’ I said, my heart thumping.
Why didn’t I read the bloody paper?

‘Yeah, well,
if he really was to blame then you won’t have anything to be scared of, will
you? But he’s coming out of prison, and I can tell by the look on your face
that you’re scared out of your wits.’

He left,
leaving me with my mute TV, Patti Smith, and a sick feeling in my gut.

Chapter
Twelve

It was the
summer I turned fourteen when Peter really got the hang of playing his
acoustic, and for his fourteenth birthday, Diane and Dennis had bought him an
electric guitar. As usual I was in London for his birthday — the twenty–second
of March — but he showed me his present via video link. It was a white Fender
Stratocaster. I didn’t need telling who’d played a guitar just like it — his
hero, Jimi Hendrix.

I saw it up
close that summer, on its stand in his little box bedroom. We sat on his bed
while he played me a few songs, before Dennis showed up grinning from ear to
ear.

‘Here you are,
mate, a proper mini–Hendrix now aren’t you?’ he said, making Peter get bashful
and stop strumming. ‘Go on, give us a bit of
Foxey Lady
.’ He nodded
towards me, and this time I was the one getting bashful.

Dennis was
rough around the edges, and being in his late forties he was hardly someone I’d
get a crush on. But I could tell that back in his day he’d been a looker in
that cheeky–chappy sort of way, and seeing as he was an out–of–towner like me
and dad I’d always felt pretty safe around him.

‘Sod off dad,’
said Peter, but he was smiling.

‘ ‘ere, don’t
go giving me any of that cheek or we’ll take it straight back to the shop.’ He
winked and made a clucking sound with his tongue. ‘Anyway, Dave’s on the phone
downstairs.’

I tightened my
fists. That was typical of David, especially when he knew I was back in town
for the summer. He was always trying to snatch Peter away from me; always
trying to divert his attention, because his attention was all mine now.

It was during
this summer that I first acknowledged a sexual attraction towards Peter; a real
one, not just a crush. I gazed longingly at his fingers resting on the neck of
the guitar. I imagined him tracing those fingers down
my
neck, over my
collarbone, down some more...

‘I’ll ring him
back later, yeah? I haven’t seen Ell’ properly in ages,’ he told his dad,
making me beam inside.

‘Oh right?
Well that’s a first isn’t it, mate?’ he looked suspiciously between me and
Pete, but he had a cocky smile that let us know he understood completely. ‘I’ll
tell him, then, but I’m leaving this door open, all right? No funny business,
you two.’

Moments after
he left, Diane was barging in the bedroom with a plastic blue laundry basket,
her heavenly black hair tied up in a long ponytail. Diane was something like a
quarter Moroccan, which meant she had the milky, light brown skin like Peter’s,
but she had the flowing black locks of whichever grandparent she took after.
She had deep brown eyes and didn’t look much older than her thirties, if that.

I hated Diane.

Only because
she loved Peter, and I mean really loved him — babied him, even. She had to
have an emergency hysterectomy after Peter was born so he was basically her
little angel, her one and only child.

Well, he was
my
one and only too.

Her scouse
accent didn’t remotely match her looks, even less so than Dennis’ did. I was
always shocked to hear it coming from her plump lips, especially since Peter
had the local accent. Dennis and Diane had moved to Mevagissey when she was
pregnant with Peter because of some history back at home that Pete didn’t know
much about, and Diane had decided that they needed to make a new life for
themselves in the country.

Diane got a
job as a bank clerk and, once her colleagues heard her down–to–earth accent,
she soon fitted right in. Dennis had a harder time of it, but he found a place
at the camp and stayed there.

‘Sorry, sorry,
sorry — I’m not interrupting, I swear, I’ve just come for the washin’,’ she
said, brushing by me to get to the pile of laundry at the end of his bed.

‘Oh yeah,
yeah, just passing through, whatever,’ said Peter, absent—mindedly plucking a
few strings. I could see the adoration in his eyes when he looked at Diane, and
it made my heart clench up. There were only two abnormal things about Pete, and
that was his unstoppable good nature and his eternal love for his mother. I
guessed the two went hand in hand, not that I’d ever know. As far as I was
concerned, I’d never had a mother.

I always
thought their good relationship is what made him such a cheerful kind of guy.
The kind of guy who would look after the weird London girl, stuffing her face
with cake on the bathroom floor, even when his mate couldn’t stand her.

‘Come on, you
know I’m not trying to cramp your style,’ she said, piling the clothes into the
basket.

‘Is that why
you’re getting my dirty washing
now
while Ell’s here? Jesus mum it’s
embarrassing,’ he said, not looking a bit embarrassed at all.

I watched the
clothes as she picked them up and tossed them in, spying his boxer shorts
covered in
Marvel
characters, and at least two expensive pairs with
brand names embroidered on the top. All I could think about was how amazing he
must’ve looked wearing them, so I turned my face away quickly before Pete saw.

But Diane
caught me first.

‘Hey,’ she whispered
over her shoulder while Pete was tuning his Strat. ‘Don’t you be eyeing up my
son’s undies.’ She poked me in the shoulder with her long, sharp fingernail.

‘I wasn’t,’ I
said, my face burning.

‘Oh yes you
were,’ she said, smirking. ‘You’re a bit too young for all that, missy. I’m
watching you.’ She smiled, but I could tell by the look in her eyes that she
really meant it. She might as well have said
you keep your hands off my
beautiful baby boy.

‘What did she
say to you?’ Pete asked when she left, leaving the bedroom door wide open.

I tried to
think of something Diane might say to a girl in, oh, about a hundred year’s
time when she was ready to give him up to another woman. ‘She said, ‘you look
after my baby boy’.’

‘Oh Christ,’
said Peter, laughing into his hands. ‘She is the most embarrassing woman in the
world.’

I looked out
of his little window at the mild day outside. ‘Why don’t we get out of here and
go up the cliff?’ I said, resting my hand beside his thigh.

He paused,
sensing my hand there. Then he nodded, his beautiful springy hair waving.
‘Yeah, all right then,’ he said softly. I realised he knew exactly what I
wanted us to do up there on that windy hill top, all alone, just us. No phone
calls, no parents — not even Jimi Hendrix.

We left the
guitar at home where it wouldn’t get bashed about or stolen. When we rounded
the corner and got to the road leading towards the harbour, Pete took one of
his hands out of his jeans pocket and laced his fingers through mine.

‘I’ve missed
you, mate,’ he said, looking down at me with his long eyelashes.

I tried to
keep my breathing steady, even though his hand was so warm and soft against
mine. It was a Sunday, all the local shops closed. We were totally alone on
that little cobbled street.

‘Mate? Is that
all you call me? Anyway, we’ve been phoning and doing the video thing,’ I said,
keeping my voice from shaking. ‘It’s not like we haven’t stayed in touch.’

‘Yeah,’ said
Peter. ‘But it isn’t the same as having you here.’ He squeezed my hand, and I
squeezed back.

I smiled,
looking down at the floor, watching my feet in their flats and his in their Converse
walking at alternate paces. ‘I know. I have missed you a lot too.’ I admitted,
trying to keep calm. Of course, I’d wanted nothing else for months and months, and
he’d been all I ever thought about — but I couldn’t tell
him
that.

Peter slowed
and so I slowed with him. He walked me toward a closed shop doorway and stood
in front of me, so close I could smell the scent on his clothes. ‘I was gonna
wait until we got to the cliff top.’

My heart did a
slow and forceful thud, thud, thud. I knew what was coming, I just knew it. I
waited a couple of seconds, then slowly lifted my head up and looked at him.

He placed one
hand on my neck, making me shudder, then placed the other on my cheek and
pulled me in for a kiss. Unlike last time, when he pulled his lips away, he
dove back in again, with a little more pressure, parting them just slightly to
let his tongue touch mine. Soon our lips were moist but we didn’t stop, we just
kept going, breathing between kisses, wrapping our arms around each other,
completely lost from the world.

My body had
never reacted the way it did that day, that moment. Of course, I’d
experienced...things of that nature, but they were nothing at all like this,
not even close.

I’d never
realised just how wrong those experiences were until I felt it with Peter,
because it was all just so right, and so soft, and so loving, and all mine. I
knew that it was only when you found something right, you realised what had
been so, so wrong before.

His hand
rubbed my neck and pressed my face close to his. Without thinking about it, my
hands sought warmth under his T–shirt where I felt his abdomen, his slim tummy
and the little trail of hair leading down from his belly button. That’s when
his hand moved, over my shoulder and down my arm and onto my waist, feeling
every part of me like it was precious.

‘Oi, Pete,’
Came a voice, startling us apart. We stiffened, afraid of being caught. But for
what, I’d wondered? What in the world could be wrong about what had just
happened? I was still recovering, panting silently, when I saw who was standing
on the other side of the pavement.

Tall, gangly,
acne–ridden. It was David. ‘Your dad said you were in the middle of something.’

Pete laughed
it off, but both of us could tell that David wasn’t in the mood for laughing.
‘Yeah, mate, I’m sorry about that. I was busy.’

‘With her?’

I waggled my
fingers at him. ‘Yes, me,’ I said. Like hell was I going to let David ruin this
for me, I thought.

‘Shut up, I
wasn’t talking to you. So is this what it’s gonna be like for the next three
months, is it?’

‘Oh come on,
Dave, don’t be like that.’ Pete pocketed his hands, his expression sad and
deflated. ‘We can do something later on, it’s just Ell’s—’

‘All he ever
talks about is you,’ said David, cutting him off. He looked at me with his thin
face, eyes full of hatred. ‘I bet you’re proud of that, eh?’

‘Yeah,’ I
said, tugging Pete’s hand from his pocket and grasping it in mine. ‘I am,
actually. If you don’t like it, then tough.’

‘Ell’,’ Pete
looked at me and squeezed my hand. ‘Just leave it to me okay?’

‘Don’t be nice
to her! God, Pete, this is embarrassing mate. What are you doing getting all
sloppy with
her
? It’s disgusting.’

I scoffed.
‘Only because you wish he was doing it with you. Am I right?’

Peter snorted
laughter, but when he saw the darkening expression on David’s face, he stopped.
‘Oh come on, mate, she’s just joking. Don’t get angry about it. I was going to
ring you back.’

‘What, are you
saying I’m a queer?’ he said, eyes dead on me.

‘Maybe,’ I
said. ‘Why else would you get your knickers in a twist about it?’

He took two
steps forward, his eyes unblinking. ‘You’re the one who gets her knickers in a
twist by the looks of it, slut.’

I gasped. ‘How
dare—’

Peter let go
of my hand and stood in front of me, blocking me from David’s view. ‘Take that
back,’ he said, his voice low and steady.

I heard David
laugh. I couldn’t see him, but I could imagine his face — sneering, ugly, smug.
That was him all over. He wasn’t growing up all handsome like Pete was; he was
gangly and spotty and all out of proportion, and he knew it.

‘I’m not
taking that back, it’s true. She’s a dirty little slut and that’s why you’re
all over her. She’s easy.’

Peter leapt
and sprinted across the road at David, taking him down in one slam. I screamed,
cupping my hands over my mouth. David fought back but he was no match for
Peter, and even though he kicked and scrabbled about the ground, Peter had him.

He swung his
arm back and thumped him in the face, then in the ribs, before turning him on
his stomach and hitting him repeatedly in the back. All the while he was
gritting his teeth, rage in his eyes, pinning him down with all his weight.

It was only
when David started whimpering, and I could make out the words, ‘I’m sorry, I’m
sorry,’ that Peter stopped hitting and got up. He grabbed David’s wrist and
pulled him up on his feet, his nose and lip bloodied, hunched over in defeat.

He looked at
me, shaking all over, his eyes glaring out from the blood smeared around his
face. ‘I fucking hate you,’ he said to me, almost squealing it, before he
staggered away down the road.

Peter was
breathing heavily through his nose, pacing the street, his fists clenched. When
he calmed down enough to take me by the arm and carry on with me toward the
cliffs, I saw him wipe a couple of stray tears from his eyes.

‘I didn’t know
you could do that,’ I said, bewildered, watching his angered face as we walked.
So much for his unstoppable good nature. I’d never felt so alive before,
watching Peter defend me like that, using all his...power. He was just fourteen
and yet to me he looked fully grown, much stronger than he’d been just a year
ago. He was like a man already.

‘My dad
teaches me,’ he said, his voice still thick with anger. ‘I’ll go to his house
in a couple days when it’s all cooled off. I won’t let him talk to you that
way.’