Closer (14 page)

She goes back to the sink and pulls out the clay buckets from underneath. 

I'm left with the drawing and the paints. I squeeze some black and some red onto a palette, then some blue and green. I find fabric in one of the cupboards, one piece very bright and one black. I get some scissors and cut the pieces into long strips. 

I fill in the outline with thick black paint, like a barrier between me and the outside world. I stick the black material strips onto the paint in places where I want the barriers to be even stronger, like round the head where it looks like hair. And on my hands and feet. The black paint bleeds through the holes in the material. Then I look at the space inside for a while. Where the heart and the stomach are I paint bright red, thick paint sticking out from the paper like it has prickles on it or something. Then some crimson blotches on top of the red, it's like fire now. Or blood. No, fire. 

Then I look at the spaces round that, between the edges and the red in the middle. And I go for the blue and the green paint, draw spirals and dots and curves and streams all over, then add bright yellow and orange and mix in the bright material strips like they're part of the paint, flowing round my body, all patterns and clashes and swirls. 

I look again, and see the blank space outside the figure. I get the yellow again, and paint lines radiating out from the heat of the body shape, almost like the sun's rays in a kid's picture only they mean something else, something I can't put words to. 

“Wow,” says Sally Griffin, who's come over and is standing by the painting, looking. 

I stand up and we get chairs and sit down to look. 

“Do you want to tell me?” 

“I don't know what to say. It's like it looks, a huge mix of everything.” 

“I can see that. But it's so bright, so full of energy and light.” 

“And black.” 

“Yeah, and black. But the light and the colour's leaking out somehow, even through the black walls. It's as if nothing that happened can kill off what's good and strong and colourful.” 

I'm quiet. Is it like she says? 

“And that yellow outside, it goes in as well as coming out. It's like the people who care about you, all their thoughts for you.” 

It is like that. She's right. People do seem to care. Raj, Chloe, Sally Griffin, even Mum's trying. And Hannah. 

I pick up the brush covered in green paint and write ‘Mel' in the middle of the picture at the bottom. It's like signing it and naming myself at the same time.

I don't hear from Chloe for a few days after I tell her. I'm worried she doesn't want to be my friend anymore, now she knows about my family. It's so embarrassing, it's even like I'm ashamed of what's happened. 

So when she phones me and I answer for once and she says can we meet up I feel uncomfortable but a bit relieved and I say yes. 

“Come round here, nobody's in,” she says, and that feels okay. 

I get there in half an hour and she's waiting for me. She brushes her hair back off her forehead and I can see she's been out in the sun, her face is brown and her hair's a shade lighter. 

“Come on, we can go in the garden. I've made some lemonade, want some?” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Ice?” We're in the kitchen now and she's pulling a jug out of the fridge and getting a big glass and dropping ice cubes into it. 

I don't need to answer – she knows I like ice. 

She's got a rug laid out under a tree on the grass. There's a book open upside down on the rug, and her shades and some suncream. 

“How are you?” I want to know, I feel interested in her again. Maybe I'm coming out of the tunnel I've been in. 

She puts down the glass, picks up the book and closes it. 

“Okay. Lots happening here.” 

“Did you find out? Did they tell you?” 

“Yeah. It's Dad. It's not good news. I thought they were keeping good news secret, but they were just acting like it was all okay.” 

“What then?” 

“He's got some kind of heart problem. It didn't show up till he had some tests. He's got to have an operation. Soon.” 

“Oh. Sorry. When is it – do you know yet?” 

“No, he's on the list. He's got to lose weight, stop drinking, fooling around.” 

“You worried?” 

“They say it's going to be fine, he'll be better than before, have more energy and that – but you don't know, do you?” 

“No.” I knew that now, you don't know, you live in your own little world and so much else is going on. 

“Dan – he's being great. He's going to Thailand soon – but he says he'll wait till it's all done.” 

“Great.” 

“But Mum – it's as if she's falling to bits. She's jumpy and she cries at the telly and all that, when Dad's not around. Then she's all bright and cheery when he's here.” 

I don't know what to say. Chloe's perfect life, perfect family – doesn't look so perfect now. 

Life. It really is a bitch. I don't care what anyone says.

Hannah's in the kitchen, writing a list of things she needs to take to uni which runs over two pages. Then there's the list of things she needs to buy, and a list of things she needs to do and people to see before she goes. It spreads out all over the table, and she's excited about it. It's the first time I've seen her like this since years ago. 

“You'll need to take the elephants, and the crocodile in case of emergencies,” I say, and we're both laughing, laughing till we hold our sides and our faces go red. It's not like it's that funny, but we go on anyway. 

We calm down after a while. 

“Hannah?” 

“Yeah?” 

“How long did he – you know, how long did he do it to you for?” 

“A few months. Not long I suppose.” 

“Long enough. Have you ever told anyone? What he did? I mean, more than you've told me or Mum?” 

“I told Raj. A bit of it.” 

I'm stunned. “Raj?” 

“Yeah. He and I are mates, you know. He wanted me to tell someone, Mum, the police. I was getting ready to do it. Then it all blew up.” 

I suddenly wonder. “Did you know…” 

“About you and him? I knew before either of you did. I could tell you were crazy about each other.” 

“And are you okay with it?” 

“Course. This way I don't lose either of you. I wouldn't want you to get hurt, but he's one of the good guys.” 

“I haven't told him anything, about you or me and Dad. I didn't want him to know unless you told him.” 

“I have, enough for him to understand.” 

“I guess he's been waiting for me to say.” 

“Could be right.” 

“Do you mind if I talk to him?” 

“Sure. You can trust Raj. He won't spread it about.” 

“What do you think should happen, Han? To Dad and everything?” 

She stands up, pushes back her hair. “I don't know. I've thought about it so much. What he's done – it's so wrong. But I don't know about him going to prison – how will that help us, or him? I hated him, but he's been good to us, to Mum, there's George and everything. I don't know.” 

She goes upstairs to pack. 

I pick up my phone.

“Why didn't you tell me you knew already?” By the time I get to meet up with Raj I'm so mad with him. 

“Knew?” 

“About Hannah, my dad. What he's done.” 

“Ah. That's been complicated. I didn't want to put my big foot in it. So I suppose I said nothing.” 

He hung his head a bit and looked at me and smiled and it was hard to stay mad at him for long. 

“But what did you think? Doesn't it all - put you off?” 

“I talked to my mum.” 

“You did what?” 

“I talked to my mum and said it was difficult with two sisters and she told me about how she and her sister had known a man and he broke their confidences in him and in the end they both dumped him. I don't want to be dumped, Mel, by you or Hannah. Specially you.” 

“And what did your mum say about you and me?” 

He puts on his Indian accent. “She smiled and said ‘Why couldn't you find a nice Indian girl? You always have to make life difficult for everyone, Raj. And for yourself. But if you're happy with Mel, go out with her. She's far too young to marry -' ” 

“Marry? Whoever said anything about getting married?” I can't believe this conversation. 

“This is my mum, remember. She still believes in the old ways, even though she's been here all her life. She asked me when I'd bring you round for tea.” 

“You are joking, aren't you? Tell me you're joking.” 

He puts on his Indian accent. “I need to see if she'll make you decent food and none of that supermarket rubbish. Now, can she make chapattis? I'll teach her, give me time.” 

I'm laughing out loud by now, and he puts his arms round me and we're both laughing and it feels so safe. 

“You mean, I have to learn to be Indian before your mum will speak to me?” 

“At least. You'd look great in a sari. My sister can lend you one to try on.” 

“Even though I'm not a size eight?” 

“What do you mean? You should be putting a bit of weight on, babe, you'll disappear down the plug-hole when you're not looking.”

It's the day. They didn't have to wait long for the operation. Chloe's dad went into hospital yesterday, to get ready, and they're doing it at 11. She asks me if I'll go round and sit with her, and I feel really happy to – like she needs me, it's not just me having traumas and wanting everyone else to look after me. 

She's in the garden again, and her eyes are a bit red like she's been crying. There's no lemonade, and when she opens the door she's hanging onto it like she has to. Her mobile's in her hand, and she doesn't let go of it. 

We go outside and sit on the rug. 

“How's it going?” 

“Dan's gone down there with Mum. I couldn't face being there while it happened, but it's worse here. He was joking when I went to see him last night, but it didn't feel one bit funny.” 

“No. But he'll be all right.” 

“That's what everyone says, he'll be fine. But you know, the more people say things like that, the more I don't believe it.” 

Her phone goes and she jumps, answers it. “Yeah? Is he okay?” She listens for a minute, then clicks it off. 

“He's gone in. They thought there might be a delay, but it's happening.” She's looking white through the tan. 

“How long?” 

“About an hour in there, then another hour before he wakes up.” 

“What would you like to do?” 

“I'd like to go somewhere – walk maybe, can't sit still here waiting for the call.” 

“Let's go – the park?” 

“We can walk by the stream – like we did when we were younger.” 

“Okay, you bring your phone. I've got some money – we can get a drink or something.” 

I've never looked after Chloe before – I'm not sure I've ever looked after anyone. I'm beginning to see something: it's not all about me. Not that I don't matter – I know I matter to Chloe, she's shown that often enough in the last few weeks. But I didn't really see her, who she is, just my stupid fantasy about how lucky she was, how much I wanted to be her instead of me, in her family. 

I pull her up and she holds onto my hands just a bit longer than she needs to. 

“Come on, let's walk it out. Wonder if the stream's running after all this sun.” 

We let ourselves out of the house and head for the park. 

*** 

It's two o'clock, we've fed the ducks and walked by the stream, only a trickle with dried-up mud at the side. I've bought Chloe a sandwich and a drink, but she didn't want the sandwich so I ate it. She keeps looking at her phone, checking that the battery's still good, that it's switched on. 

Then it rings and she's onto it. 

“Dan? Is it over – is he…” 

She listens and I see her face relaxing. 

“He's okay though – really okay?” 

She listens for a bit longer. 

“No, I'm with Mel. She's been great. I'll come over.” 

I feel crazily proud that she thinks I've been great. We head off together to the hospital. I feel almost as pleased as she is that he's okay, the operation went fine, he'll be back home in a couple of days. 

It's like a holiday from me, and I like it. But I know everything's not over at home. Maybe it will be one day, but not yet.

I've asked to see Dad without any of the others, and Liz is going to supervise. I don't want Mum there. I've never met Liz. She never came round to the house, she and Andy were just people Dad talked about sometimes. 

I decided to go and see him where he is, on Clarendon Park Road. I don't want this to happen at home. I want to be able to leave when I feel like it too. I start writing a list of everything I want to say, and what I want to ask him, but it's too long, and I decide to wait and see what happens. 

Since Raj said what he said about my weight I've been trying to eat a bit more. Had some toast this morning, it feels strange. Mum's happy about it though, I can tell. She looks like she's counting the mouthfuls and trying really hard not to say anything. 

Ringing the doorbell reminds me of coming round to murder Dad that time, and it's embarrassing again. He answers like he's standing behind the door waiting, and invites me into the living room, where there's this older woman sitting reading the paper. It's one of those rooms that have been knocked through to make a bigger room, but you can still see that it's been two.