The Stranger Within (13 page)

              But then everything changes. Tabitha pushes her chair back and stands up. Now she towers over me and I am the one at a disadvantage. There is no point in me standing up. My five-foot-five frame is no match for her giant body. The smirk returns to her face and her eyes bore into me. “Shouldn’t you be asking James about this?” She raises her eyebrows, challenging me to deliver an effective retort.

              But I don’t have one. I was not expecting her to answer. Despite my certainty, part of me hoped that she would deny sending the text, or maybe offer a plausible explanation for it. Anything other than admit she is sleeping with James. But now I know without a doubt it’s true.

Everything is suddenly wrong. My confidence has evaporated and I feel foolish perched on her desk with my ridiculously short hair.

Stammering, I tell her I want to hear her side of it.

              With that nasty smirk on her face, Tabitha picks up the shop phone. “I’m not going to talk to you about this, Callie. Talk to James.” She holds the receiver to her ear and dials a number. I hear the muffled voice of a man and then Tabitha speaks, loud and confident, “Yes, James will be free tomorrow at eleven a.m. Okay? No problem.”

              Stunned, I slowly turn and leave the shop, removing my denim jacket as soon as I’m outside because I am coated in sweat. My legs feel weak and I don’t know how I’ll find the energy to walk home.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. It is James calling and I wonder if Tabitha has already warned him that I know. I don’t answer, but stare at his name on the screen until he gives up. Seconds later I receive a voicemail, but I’m in no mood for hearing his voice.

              I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone in my life. Hatred is such a strong word, bandied about too casually, but as I find my way to the bus stop, I’m sure this is what I feel for Tabitha. Not only for what she’s done, but for her indifference and contempt. And the injustice of me feeling that I am the one in the wrong.

              When I get home, I can’t bear the thought of going inside so I jump in the car instead. I don’t know where I’ll go, but driving should help clear my head. I don’t bother to check whether Mrs Simmons is watching; it is for the best because in my current mood, I’m likely to pound on her window and tell her what a nosey, interfering bitch she is.

              Before I start the engine, I relent and check James’ voicemail, just in case it is something to do with the boys. When it’s finished I am glad I’ve listened because it
is
about them. James says that Luke will be going to Harry’s after school and Dillon is also having dinner at a friend’s house. This is good news for me; it means I will get a longer break than I thought. He ends the message saying he’ll be back late tonight.

              It crosses my mind that he might be with Tabitha, but would they really be so indiscreet when I’ve practically told her I know? I will deal with it later, for now I need to drive as far from Wimbledon as possible.

              As I turn into the next road, I notice Rhys walking in the opposite direction, towards the house. Until now I haven’t given a second thought to the crumpled piece of paper with his phone number on it. I continue driving but see him turn around, his eyes following the car. I should keep going, there is no need for me to stop, even though I am baffled that he’s here in the middle of a school day. But then I remember his kindness in the coffee shop, and how I found it easier to talk to him than even my own friends.

              Every instinct screams at me to keep going, but I screech to a stop and wait. I need the comfort of a kind face today. No matter who it belongs to.

Chapter Fourteen

In my rear-view mirror I watch Rhys approach the car. His long strides are purposeful and confident so he can’t be embarrassed about giving me his phone number the other week. I haven’t seen him at the house since then as Dillon has spent more time at Rhys’ than he has at home over the last few days.

              He reaches my window and taps it with his knuckles. “Hey…Callie. Wow, your hair! It looks good.”

              My hands automatically reach for my hair and I smooth it down, shrugging and trying to pretend I don’t feel self-conscious. “Needed a change. Anyway, what were you doing? You can’t be looking for Dillon, he’s at school. And don’t
you
have any lessons?”

              Rhys shifts from left to right, clutching the strap of his rucksack. “I have a study day today. Actually, I was hoping to see you. You know, to check you’re okay after the other day. I thought you might call or something.”

              I search his face for signs of sincerity, but have no idea what I’m looking for. “Listen, Rhys, I don’t know what you think is happening here, but I’m your friend’s…mother.” The last word sticks in my throat.

              Rhys waves his hand. “Oh, no, no…I didn’t mean…I just wanted to check you’re okay. You were kind of upset. And you’re always so nice to me.”

              “Well, I’m fine. No need to worry.” I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, a nervous gesture I hope he won’t notice.

              He backs away from the window. “Okay, well, I’ll get going then.”

              Sensing his disappointment, I speak without thinking. Again. “Can I give you a lift home? Or wherever you’re going now?”

              His face brightens. “Are you sure? Yeah, that would be great!”

Before I can change my mind he rushes to the passenger side of the car, flings open the door, and climbs in. “Do you know Lancaster Gardens? Just off the high street?”

              “Not really, but you can direct me when we get close.”

              “I love Golfs,” he says, as we pull away. He runs his hand over the dashboard, seemingly unfazed by the thin layer of dust coating it. “I’m learning to drive now. Maybe you could give me some extra lessons?”

Turning to him for a second, I catch his playful wink and shake my head. But I am not annoyed; he is helping me to forget my encounter with Tabitha.

For the whole drive Rhys talks constantly; I barely register what about but I am content just to listen to his voice. It is surprisingly deep for someone his age. He is so far-removed from everything that’s bringing me down, so it is a pleasure to get lost in his idle chatter.

I still have suspicions about why he gave me his number, but I am confident I have put a stop to any inappropriate intentions. The idea of it makes me chuckle, and Rhys stops mid-flow to ask what I’m laughing at.

“Nothing. Carry on, I’m listening.”

“I really like your hair, Callie. It suits you. Even Dillon must think so.”

“I’ve only had it done today. Nobody’s seen it yet.” Hearing my stepson’s name reminds me of James’ voicemail. “Actually, isn’t Dillon supposed to be seeing you after school? His dad said he would be at a friend’s house so I assumed it was you.”

Rhys shakes his head. “Not today. I invited him but think he’s got plans with someone else. It’s the next right,” he says, almost too late for me to make the turn.

Lancaster Gardens is a tree-lined road of detached houses. It crosses my mind that Rhys’ parents must be doing all right for themselves if they can afford to live here.

“Number nine. Just there on the left.” Rhys unclicks his seatbelt before I’ve pulled up. “Thanks, Callie.” I know I told him to call me by my first name, but it still sounds strange coming from his mouth. “D’you want to come in for a coffee? I think I can just about make one, although I can’t say it will be as good as yours.”

At any other time I would refuse his offer. There’s no reason I should be alone in the house of my stepson’s friend, even with innocent intentions. But my life is a mess and perhaps he can help me with at least one of my problems. Dillon. We only scratched the surface the last time we spoke. It is ludicrous that I have to turn to a teenage boy for help, but I am out of options. So I nod and undo my seatbelt, while Rhys grins beside me.

The inside of his house is impressive. The décor is modern and minimalist and I wonder how they manage to keep everything beige and white with a teenager in the house. But perhaps Rhys has already passed that phase where cleaning up after yourself is not on your radar.

I hover at the door, wondering whether I should take my shoes off because the shiny wooden floors look brand-new, but Rhys strides in, his trainers still on. “Come in, come in,” he says. “Just through here.”

“Are your parents home?” I ask, following him into an enormous kitchen. I’m hoping he and I will have a chance to talk alone. Besides, what would his mum and dad think if they found me here without Dillon?

He shakes his head. “No, they both work. Mum’s a private music teacher and Dad’s in advertising. He’s never here, really, and Mum works at different schools so she’s always travelling around. She’s a peri…something teacher. Can’t remember the name for it.”

“Peripatetic?”

He nods. “Yeah, that’s it. Anyway, they might not be here a lot but they always find a way to keep an eye on me. Make sure I’m not up to no good.” He winks at me again and I roll my eyes. “Right, let me sort this coffee business,” he continues. “Don’t know how you can drink the stuff.” He urges me to sit down and I pull out a brown leather dining chair.

“Well, when you’re all grown up you might just drink it too.” As soon as I’ve spoken I wonder how he will take my joke. His back is turned so I can’t see his face but I hope I haven’t offended him.

Thankfully, when he spins around he is grinning again. “So that will be in a few weeks then, I reckon. I’ll be sure to celebrate with a huge, nasty cup of coffee!”

We both laugh, and I realise for the first time today I have forgotten what I’m trying to escape from.

As it turns out, Rhys’ coffee tastes fine. I tell him he’s done a good job and he seems pleased at my compliment. “Do you want to go in the living room? Or anywhere, it’s up to you.”

“Here is fine,” I say, sweeping my hand across the shiny mahogany dining table, just as Rhys did to my dashboard earlier. Only my hands aren’t now covered in dust.

He joins me at the table with a can of Red Bull and pulls the opener, letting a sharp hiss escape into the air. “Callie, are you okay? Really? I’m just asking because Dillon’s been round here a lot lately and from the way he talks, it doesn’t sound like anything’s better. And with your crying and everything…I’m just worried.”

Shifting in my chair, I wonder how much to tell him. I shouldn’t be socialising with him at all, not like this. One, he’s Dillon’s best friend. Two, he’s a teenager. And three, it’s unfair to make him my confidante. But when I look at his kind face, a face that’s far beyond its years, I let my guard down, all the time knowing I am a desperate woman.

Rhys listens with patience as I tell him what’s happened over the last eight months. He shakes his head when I recount all the things the boys have done to make my life miserable. From his expressions, I am sure Dillon hasn’t told him half of what I’m revealing. When I get to the part about Luke’s accident, he falls quiet. Perhaps he is struggling to believe his friend capable of such a thing.

I don’t mention James and how strained our relationship has become. Nor do I speak of Tabitha. These are not things Rhys should know about. But I am candid about everything else, and when I’ve finished I wait to see what he will say.

“I had no idea,” he says, running his fingers around the top of his can. “I think I should speak to him. He’s being really out of order. He’ll listen to me. Can I be honest?” I nod, convinced I won’t like what he’s about to say. “At first, before I met you, I thought you were…kind of awful…you know, from everything Dillon had said. And I thought it had a lot to do with him missing his real mum. Which I could understand. But now I’ve met you…” He trails off, lifting the can to his mouth, throwing his head back as he takes a sip. He swallows and looks up. “I just think you’re really nice.”

I feel a tear in the corner of my eye and rub it away with my knuckle. Why can’t Dillon and Luke feel this way about me? It doesn’t even matter if Rhys has some other kind of feeling for me; he has still seen the real me, something the people closest to me seem unable to do. “Thanks,” I say. It is all I can manage.

“I’ll talk to him, Callie. Let me try, at least.” He stands up and throws his can into the bin.

“Okay, but be careful what you say. I don’t want things to get even worse.”

He comes back to the table and smiles. “Well, I’d say they’re about as bad as they can get, wouldn’t you?”

He only knows the half of it. Everything is falling down around me so I have to do whatever I can to fix things, or at least make sure they can’t get any worse.

“Come and see upstairs,” Rhys says suddenly. “We’ve just redecorated and, well, I don’t know if you’re interested in stuff like that, but it’s been done up really nice. New bathroom and everything.”

I can’t help but laugh at his notion of what interests adults. And the effort he’s putting into entertaining me. “Another time,” I say, deciding to go easy on him. He doesn’t need to know that, as much as I think he’s a good kid, there is no way I will ever go upstairs with him. “I’d better get going. I only meant to stay for a quick coffee.”

Rhys’ face falls. “Stay a bit longer. I can play you our new track. We’re showcasing it at the gig on Friday.”