Closer (15 page)

“I'm Liz.” She puts down the paper and gets up to shake my hand. “I'll be sitting down that end of the room so you too can have some space. Let me know if you need anything. Steve, why don't you get Mel a drink. I could do with a coffee myself.” 

“What would you like? I got in some Diet Coke.” He's obviously trying hard. 

“Tea please.” 

He looks a bit surprised, but he goes off to make the drinks and Liz goes and looks out at the garden through the French windows. It's rambling and jungly, not like ours at all. There's even a few veg growing at the bottom. She opens the windows wide. 

Dad comes in with a tray and gives Liz her coffee. She's sitting by the French windows. Dad and I sit at the front of the house on two sofas. 

I look at my tea. It's an orange colour, in a big thick mug, and the smell makes me feel sick. I put it down on the table by the sofa. 

I look up at Dad. He's looking at his coffee. He's thin. His hair's greasy, too long. 

“So what's happening?” I ask him, to start somewhere. 

“I've got a job. Nothing much, just some warehouse work, temporary, but it means I can give your mum something and pay Andy and Gill a bit too. They've been very good to me.” 

He's stopped, waiting. The silence goes on. 

He clears his throat. “How about you?” 

“Fine.” 

Another silence. 

I find my voice from somewhere. 

“There's some things I need to know.” 

“Go on.” 

“And I want you to be straight with me. No joking or avoiding.” 

He doesn't look like he's going to make a joke ever again. 

“Okay.” 

“First, I want to know about Grandad.” 

He looks surprised. 

“You don't want to know about that.” 

“What did I say? No avoiding.” 

“Okay.” 

Silence. He looks up the room at Liz, who's behind her paper again. 

“You said he was cruel.” 

“Yeah. What I didn't say was – he did things. Sexual things. As well as hurting me. And I let him. I'm not avoiding, Mel, but there's things I'm only just beginning to talk about. I wouldn't want you to have to carry them around as well. Perhaps it's just important that you know I'm realising what a mess I made. I was confused.” 

“Confused? You mean, you didn't know it was wrong to do it?” 

“I think I'd gone numb, I didn't know what I was doing.” 

Silence. I know what that's like, but I'm not letting him off the hook. 

“I mean, I was so - desperate.” 

“Desperate? What for?” 

“Love, affection. Don't ask me to explain that, I don't understand it myself. When I think about what I've done..” 

“When Hannah'd gone, you'd have started on me.” 

It's not a question, it's a statement. 

He looks away, at Liz, as if she'll have the answers behind her paper. 

“Wouldn't you?” 

He looks down at his coffee. “Yeah, I suppose it was going that way.” 

“Do you know what that feels like? You didn't just do what you did to her, you didn't really care who you did it to. It was all about you.” 

“Yeah. Suppose so.” 

It almost feels like he's the child here and I'm the parent telling him off. I could get to enjoy this. 

“How could you? Don't think I'll ever understand.” 

“I don't expect you to. Not sure I'll ever understand myself. I'm trying.” 

“And what about Mum?” 

“What about her?” 

“How could you do that to Mum? To her kids?” 

Silence. 

“I don't know. I love your mum, I really do. I think I'd got her mixed up, with the mum I didn't have myself. She was always so good to me, your mum.” 

“That doesn't mean…” 

“No, I know. It's doesn't make any of it okay.” 

Silence. I have to break it, keep talking. “I've got a boyfriend.” 

He looks up. 

“Raj?” 

“Yeah. He's great.” 

Silence. 

“I'm pleased. Really.” 

Silence. 

“You could have ruined Hannah's life.” 

Silence. 

“I know. There's no way I can make it up to her. No way.” 

“No.” 

Silence. 

I look straight at him. “If you could, if they let you, would you want to come back?” 

“I'd do anything to try. If I could make it up to you...” 

Silence. Then he starts. 

“When you came round that time, did you mean to hurt yourself?” 

“No, I came to kill you. I thought that might stop it all. I wanted it to stop. But I couldn't do it. So I thought, I don't know, I didn't think, somehow I wanted to hurt myself.” 

“I tried to kill myself once. When I was twelve. With a kitchen knife. I wanted to kill him, my dad, but I was too scared. You were braver than I was.” 

“What happened to you?” 

“I cut my neck, and it bled a lot, and Ma took me to the doctor's and said it had been an accident.” 

“She knew?” 

“Don't suppose I'll ever know that now.” 

Silence. 

The doorbell rang. Liz got up, then sat down again. 

“You'd better go, Steve. Probably only the postman.” 

When he'd gone out, she looked at me. 

“You okay?” 

“Fine.” 

“Let me know if you need anything, or if you want to stop.” 

“Right.” 

It's good to have her there somehow, even though it's embarrassing. 

“He's suffering a lot. But so he should. He had a rough time, but that's no excuse.” She sounds angry, deep down angry. 

“But you've taken him in.” 

“Doesn't mean I agree with what he's been doing. He's had a hard time round here, I can tell you.” 

I'm glad about that. Really glad. 

He comes back in with a package. 

“Needed a signature. It's for you.” He gives it to Liz. 

He sits down again and drinks some of his coffee. I've let my tea go cold. I don't care. 

He starts again. “If there's anything I can do. To make it up to you. To help you feel better. To clear up this mess. I want to.” 

“You need to find out what that is yourself. I'm not telling you. Don't see why I should.” 

“But I do love you. And Hannah. Honest.” 

I stand up, pick up my mug of tea, go over to where he is and pour it over his head. His hair is sticky and wet with it, with orange running down his face. 

“Sorry about the mess, Liz,” I say, as I head for the front door. “Dad'll clear it up.”

It's four weeks now since Hannah left for London. Her room looks empty, like she's never coming back. I'm going down to see her today, on the train, so I'm up early for Saturday. It's half-term here, so I'm looking forward to a few late mornings. And seeing more of Raj. 

Mum and George are still in bed when I leave. He's sleeping in with her, has been for a few weeks now. I always thought this had nothing to do with George, he would carry on playing on his playstation like he always had, but he's still missing Dad. I feel bad about that, even though I know it's not my fault. 

I close the back door quietly and head for the bus stop. I have to be early for trains. I'm always scared of running down the steps to find the train pulling out of the station. So I'm glad the bus comes right away. There's only a few people on it, so I go and sit on the long back seat. 

The bus drops me off at the station. I've already got my ticket on the internet, so it was cheap. On the platform it's busy, but nobody I know. 

I get down to St. Pancras Station on time, 10.35. It reminds me of times we all went to London – like to see a show, which I thought was great at the time, or to go to Tate Modern with school and Sally Griffin once. That was amazing. Such weird stuff. It was like having your head blasted off, only in a good way. 

It reminds me of Dad being there, excited as a kid himself. He liked being just in time for the train, especially if he made it wait just for us. 

Hannah's there on the station, waiting for me at the barrier. It seems ages since I saw her. I feel a bit embarrassed. She gives me a hug. She looks different. 

“You've had your hair cut. Looks great.” 

Her hair's in a bob and it makes her look younger, lighter. 

She's got a red top on too. She sees me looking at it. 

“One of my housemates made me buy it. She's done that colour thing, where you find out what suits you.” 

“Wow.” 

It seems like Hannah already has a new life. I feel a bit jealous, like she's been able to leave everything behind and I'm still stuck at home with it all going on. 

“Thought we'd go on the tube out to mine. I'd like to show you where I live, hang out for a while, have something to eat. That's if you're eating these days.” 

“Yeah,” I say. I'm still getting used to eating. 

“Then we'll decide what to do from there.” 

“Okay.” 

Hannah takes me through buying the underground ticket and the gates and everything, like she's really at home here. We get out to Walthamstow really quickly, and she lives near the station, across this busy road. 

It's a house a bit like ours, an old terrace, pretty run down and basic. There's four girls living there, each with a room, and a kitchen and bathroom and shared conservatory out at the back. Hannah's room is at the back upstairs. The railway runs behind the house, so every few minutes there's the noise of the train coming into the station. 

“How are you?” she says, when we're sitting in her room near the window. It's strange to see the place, the things she's brought from home, the books, some new pictures and a big plant standing on the floor. 

“Fine.” 

“You didn't come down here to tell me you're fine.” 

“Okay I suppose. It's weird not having you around, being the oldest and everything. Just me and George and Mum.” 

“Yeah. How's things with Dad?” 

“He comes round every Saturday to see George. I sometimes spend a bit of time with him, when Mum's there, or Liz.” 

“What's that like?” 

“Now, it's not bad. He's trying really hard, Hannah, not to think of just himself. I've given him a hard time.” 

I tell her about the tea, and suddenly it feels really funny and I ham it up a bit and demonstrate how I did the pouring. 

She's laughing, and wants to know what he did. 

“He just sat there, dripping, and I told Liz he'd clear up the mess, then I walked out and slammed the front door.” 

“Fantastic. Sounds great.” 

“It was. I just had to do it. Don't you want to get back at him?” 

“I don't know. Sometimes. I'm seeing this therapist, Jane she's called, she lives out this way. I think I need to see her for a while before I know what I want to do. Sometimes I want to kill him, sometimes I want him back in my life somehow. We used to have fun on those Saturdays. Do you know, I don't think people are either all good or all bad? I used to. I used to think people who did things like this were monsters or something. But I'm not sure now. It's all so complicated.” 

There's a pause. She looks down at her hands. 

“So how's the course and everything?” 

“It's good. I was really scared, and it took a while to get used to it. But it's interesting, and I'm going to France for a year next year to live, to learn the language and everything. You'll have to come and stay. It could be fun.” 

We're chatting like we're good friends, or like we're proper sisters, which we are only it's never felt like it. For years we hated each other, and then we got to know each other when everything went wrong. Now it feels like starting again, from a place where we know in all the world we can trust each other completely. 

“How is it with Raj? You too still an item?” 

“It's good. Sometimes it's a bit strange. I went to meet his mum last week, she'd been giving him some stress about meeting me and all that. She was really lovely, not at all like he said. He's her youngest son, and you can tell she loves him to bits. He laps it up.” 

“You'll have to keep him in order. Make sure he does his own washing and all that.” 

“Hang on, I'm only fifteen. I'm not settling down or anything.” 

But I'm smiling at the idea of making Raj do his share in that perfect house we're going to live in for ever and ever. 

“And how's your art?” 

“I go in the art room every lunchtime. Chloe often comes in too, she wants to do art as well, though design's more her thing. She's thinking about fashion.” 

“You're more a brooding artist type. Like Tracey Emin or something.” 

“Easy if you can put your bed in a museum. Wonder what she slept on after that? Do you think it was just a way of having a new bed?” 

We go on like that, chatting till Hannah asks if I'd like something to eat and we go out down the shops, and they're her shops, where she knows which one to look for to get the best stuff really cheap and everything. I'd like to be doing all this, it's hard to be only fifteen, having to wait so long. I make up my mind that I want to do art at uni, and I want to go to London too. Maybe Raj could do his journalism here, and we could share a place. 

We eat in a café, and Hannah's amazed watching me have a chicken salad with Italian bread and eating the whole thing. Then we go for a walk round the place, the church, the little back streets. It feels really good to know where she is. We talk and talk, not much about what happened, but about what we're doing now, music, the books we're reading and all that.