Lies Like Love

AUDREY

At the end of the day Peter and I stood waiting for Leo, getting drenched in rain that cut past the sun, sparkling and fierce. I’d had to agree just to make him stop asking.

I looked at my watch again when Leo approached and he laughed.

‘God, I’m really sorry – I had to stay behind in English. My teacher, Mr Bruce – do you have him? No? Lucky you. Well, he didn’t like my essay, so we had a bit of a row. And all the time I was thinking, Damn, Audrey’s waiting. And here you are. And Peter. God, I feel bad.’ He reached out and ruffled Peter’s hair. Peter squirmed away and Leo grinned.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked. ‘Not too wet?’

‘No. We’re fine.’

We fell into step and Peter held my hand.

‘How was it today, mate?’ I said.

He hopped over a puddle, then said, ‘I played with Jim and Bad Hat and then a big boy stole them and threw them in the bushes.’

‘What?’

‘Yes, but I crawled in and got them. But I did get dirty.’ He showed me his palms, his face anxious.

‘It doesn’t matter. I can wash your stuff. And you.’

‘Who’re Jim and Bad Hat?’ asked Leo, and I wished he hadn’t.

‘My friends,’ said Peter.

I thought of things to say to change the subject and blurted something about the stew his aunt had given us, if she wanted her basket back, before I bit my lip. Boring.

‘So, I’ll show you my favourite route,’ Leo suggested. ‘It’s a good shortcut home for days when you don’t want to take the bus, days like this, when you should be outside.’

‘You should never be outside in the rain. Rain’s for ducks, not people,’ I said. For a second I saw my dad again, this vague outline, really tall and thin, in a white T-shirt, pale jeans. I almost smelled the sweet bag of white bread, felt it claggy in my fingers. False memories, Mum said. Get over it, he left us. His choice.

Leo pointed at the sky. ‘Look – it’s stopping.’

We stood and stared for a bit and he was right. The last drops came in a sporadic patter and in the distance the sky was clearer. I didn’t really care whether there was thunder or lightning, snow or storm, a blinding apocalyptic sun. It felt free. It felt right, like I should have been doing this for years. Like Mum said, it was better here. I could wipe the rest of the day away now, clean it up, breathe in a future with all this fresh air.

‘I run this way, most evenings,’ Leo told me, turning to look at me.

‘It’s nice,’ I said. ‘Peaceful.’ I looked right back into his face and he grinned, then put out his arm, touching me gently on the shoulder, to pull me to a halt.

‘Hang on, look up there,’ he said, and we all stopped and turned our faces to the sky.

‘It’s a dragon,’ Peter called, grabbing my hand, pulling me. ‘Is it a dragon, Aud?’

‘I think it’s just a bird, Pete.’ I laughed.

‘Yup, a kestrel,’ said Leo.

‘It’s still amazing,’ I whispered, holding Peter’s hand, crouching down to stare from his level, see his eyes widen and glow as Leo explained how it was seeking out prey and would feed on mice or voles hiding in the fields around us.

‘Let’s catch it,’ said Peter, his hands grabbing towards the sky, and Leo laughed.

‘I’d say it’s fairly unlikely you will ever catch that bird, Pete. It’s wild. And it’s hungry. Nature,’ he told him, ‘red in tooth and claw. Not a pet.’

‘But I still want it,’ Peter insisted, and I imagined it swooping down, grabbing us by the collar before wheeling and screeching back up into the sky, carrying Peter and me off to its lair. It would feed us in little pieces to its young. My skin would easily tear. A shiver like spiders crawled over my skin, up my neck into my hair.

‘So, how’s it all going?’ Leo asked as we walked on.

‘Oh, all right, I guess.’

‘I don’t envy you the Grange. You know it used to be a sort of institution. For people with problems.’

‘What sort of problems?’

‘Oh. There’s loads of stories. It got closed down in the end.’

‘What like?’ My stomach lurched. I didn’t want him to be talking about me. Spouting off about mental girls who needed locking up for their own good.

‘Not sure. Don’t worry, I’m sure all the ghosts are long gone.’ Leo was laughing and then stopped when he saw my face.

‘It’s all right. I’m joking.’

‘Yeah, well, it just creeps me out, that’s all.’ It was a dead house. All that water. And the Thing would like the Grange, I knew it would.

‘I don’t blame you. I’d be freaked out too. It’s way too haunted-house, that place, straight out of some horror B movie. And you’re missing home. Right?’

‘Not really.’ I did miss the idea of it, although I couldn’t explain that. It was like my life was a puzzle with a huge piece missing. If my dad were around, maybe that would solve it, help things make sense. Leo was staring at me like he wasn’t sure he understood. I gave him a quick smile, shoved my hair out of my eyes and stuffed my glasses in my pocket. Sometimes it was easier to see without them.

‘You’re lucky, then. I miss my parents. They’re abroad. Hong Kong.’

‘Hong Kong!’

‘Yup.’

‘So why aren’t you with them?’

‘I like it here, plus my parents are busy. They’re go-getters. High-flyers. Over-achievers.’ His voice was a little bitter and he stopped for a minute, looking out at the horizon. ‘Still, it’s easier for me here. My aunt’s pretty cool. I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not. I was at a boarding school for a while – lasted five years actually – but I hated it. So I came here.’

He didn’t need to explain. I nodded and our eyes met. He looked at me as if he wanted to be understood, so I looked away.

Leo started to walk again and that was easier.

‘Careful,’ he said, as the ground turned boggy underfoot near a stile that led over a hedge and into a field. He reached out to take my elbow to steer me through the mud. That was twice he’d touched me.

Sue was in the barn grooming a pony, who Peter instantly went over to pet. It was nice to see him like that, racing forward, not checking behind. Sue’s face radiated welcome; my shoulders dropped and I breathed.

‘Ah, home at last,’ she said, ‘Good. Leo, I’m going in for a cup of tea – bring Audrey and Peter.’

‘We should go,’ I said, edging backwards, not wanting to intrude.

‘Why?’ Peter interrupted. ‘I’m hungry. You made me walk miles and miles.’

‘Come in for just a minute?’ asked Leo. ‘We have cake. Anything you like.’ And, looking at my brother’s face, I couldn’t refuse.

The minute grew into thirty, and then an hour. It was so warm in Sue’s kitchen that it was easy just to sink into the sofa and watch Leo filling the kettle, making tea, feeding the dog, singing along to the radio. Time washed over us and I looked down, my mug wrapped in my hands, taking tiny sips, making it last. This cup of tea was the nicest thing ever.