Kiss Her Goodbye: The most addictive thriller you'll read this year Page 17

  23

  Hayley Reynolds

  Although it’s a cold day, the sky is kingfisher blue as I stand by the main entrance to college. Dr Tibbs walks down the path, dressed like a second-rate version of Joan Collins, in a yellow suit and white heels. I keep my eyes fixed on the field in the hope that she’ll go past.

  ‘Hayley? We’ve not seen you for a while,’ she says, coming right over.

  ‘I’m here now.’

  ‘I need a quick chat.’ She looks around to check that I am alone. ‘Are you OK to talk here or would you prefer my office?’

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

  ‘Here’s fine.’

  ‘I’ve booked you in with the counsellor. So you can have a proper chat about what’s happening at home.’

  I pick up my bag off the floor and try not to look angry.

  ‘That stuff’s all sorted now,’ I tell her.

  ‘You’re not in any trouble. I think it will do you some good to talk to someone. Someone trained. Anyway, you can always cancel closer to the time if you want to. I’ll send you a letter with the appointment when it comes through.’

  It won’t matter if she brings someone in, because I won’t be here. I’ll be on a beach in France with the sun warming my skin and the taste of sea salt on my lips. I wish she’d leave me alone. It’s all pointless.

  I start to walk away, but she steps in front of me to make me listen. She tells me about my future and other things that I don’t pay attention to. I think about the warm breeze over French sunflower fields and the smell of lavender on the air. A magpie sits rigid on the black branches of a tree as she continues to talk. There are only dark things here and I won’t miss it.

  ‘Can I borrow some French books to take home?’

  ‘French books? Well, I suppose so, but you’ll have to speak to Mrs Garside first.’

  ‘OK, then.’

  I am not going to speak to Mrs Garside about anything. I will steal them from the French room at lunchtime instead.

  ‘Hayley?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘You’ll think about the counsellor? I’ve been worried about you. I think it would do you good.’

  I’ve decided not to tell any more lies and she doesn’t like it when I mention Kirsten so I stay silent. She looks disappointed and I stare at the crisp brown leaves on the ground to avoid looking at her.

  ‘I’m fine. I won’t be around for much longer anyway.’

  Her face drops. ‘What do you mean?’

  She looks worried and I can’t help laughing.

  ‘I might be going to live with my dad, that’s all.’

  ‘You’ll be finishing your exams?’

  ‘Course,’ I lie.

  She smiles, as though that’s all that matters, and starts to walk back inside with me. Just inside the entrance, I see Stefan and Leila. I pretend not to care, but she blushes at something he’s said and I can’t help it.

  Even though I’ve decided to make a new start, I want to drag her off by the ponytail away from him. All I can do is stand and watch. He steps closer, so that they’re almost touching, and she doesn’t move away. As she turns to the side I notice the Smiths tee shirt she’s wearing: the one with a solider on. It’s too big for her and it makes my shoulders tense when I realise that it’s probably his.

  I walk back towards the car park to avoid them. Dr Tibbs shouts something after me, but I pretend not to hear. It’s all right trying to be a different person, but sometimes the person inside won’t let you.

  *

  When I get home after college, there’s a small red suitcase by the door with Mum’s best handbag on top.

  ‘You’re back,’ she says as she comes into the hall, in high heels and a new white jumpsuit.

  ‘What’s this?’ I point at the case.

  ‘Going to Blackpool for a few days. Bill’s up to his old tricks again. Cheryl’s in a state,’ she says as she puts on her coat. ‘Mike will be here so you won’t be on your own.’

  I frown. ‘What? He’s not going with you? He can’t stay here.’

  ‘Where else would he stay? He doesn’t even know Cheryl.’

  ‘I’m fine on my own.’

  ‘Usually you’re all over anyone that shows you a bit of attention. Just try to get along.’

  She can talk. It’s all: ‘we’re in love’ and ‘let’s move in’ if someone buys her half a lager and lime.

  ‘Right, I’m getting the six o’clock train. Mike’s going to drop me off.’ She shouts up the stairs, ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  As Mike comes down the stairs she walks out to the car with her case.

  ‘You can’t just go,’ I tell her.

  ‘If your dad comes he just needs the papers on the table,’ she says as she checks her coat pocket for something. I stand in the door, but she doesn’t look up.

  ‘You’ll be back before then, though, won’t you?’ asks Mike.

  ‘Just in case. Cheryl’s phone’s been cut off,’ she says as she gets in the car, ‘but I’ll call you on the pay phone, Hayley.’

  I close the door on them and go into the living room. What would she want to ring me for? We hardly talk to each other anyway. It’s just like her to run away when Dad’s coming back. It’s what she always does. She has that glazed look in her eyes again too, as though she’s somewhere else. It used to get worse and worse, until she just sat around like a sack of wet sand, and I wonder how long it’s going to take this time.

  *

  Mike doesn’t say much as we sit eating dinner. Without Mum here, the only sound is our forks as they hit the plates and Mike breathing through his nose. It doesn’t feel awkward though; it’s easier to relax without her around. He looks out of the window as if something’s bothering him and I wonder if he’s missing her. She wasn’t always the way she is now. When Dad started to work away, she’d take me to Gran’s caravan and drive us to secret beaches. We’d take potted-meat sandwiches wrapped in greaseproof paper and walk through the dunes to find a special place to eat them. She changed after the baby died. That was when I lost her too and she never really came back. Afterwards, I used to hear his cry in the darkness of the night and wake up thinking he was back. When I told Dad, he said it was just probably foxes mating, but I never really believed him. I shouldn’t have said anything. A week later, he’d gone. I still hear it sometimes. He was a nice baby. We all loved him so much.

  ‘Cheryl’s husband’s a nightmare,’ I say.

  ‘Who?’ He frowns. ‘Oh, right. Yeah, your mum said.’

  He wasn’t thinking about her after all, then.

  ‘She’ll be there for at least a week.’

  ‘Couple of days at most,’ he says, with a mouth full of fish. ‘Said she’d be back by the weekend.’

  ‘Two weeks it was, last time.’

  Mike looks up at me as I spear the last fish finger with my fork. ‘Something else will happen.’ I motion at the clock. ‘Bet they’re in the pub now. Don’t worry, though – Cheryl looks like ET so there won’t be any blokes after them.’

  Mike shakes his head. ‘I’ve bought a Viennetta for afters so…’

  He says it as though he’s going to take care of me, but I know that I can’t rely on anyone. He’ll be the next one to disappear in the night and never come back so he’s wasting his time trying to get close. I’m not falling for that again. Besides, I’ve already decided that I don’t want him here and nothing will change that.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Between you and me, I think seeing your dad is difficult for her. She just needs to prepare herself.’

  Maybe he’s not as stupid as he looks.

  ‘She pisses off every time he comes back.’

  He frowns.

  ‘Runs off. Whatever. She always does it.’

  ‘And what about you? How do you feel about seeing him again?’

  I shrug. ‘Not bothered.’

  Dad was always there for me. He never called me a liar and he always said he loved me, s
o I can’t wait to see him. I nearly tell Mike about my new start until I remember that I don’t tell anyone anything that matters.

  Mike clears his throat. ‘Well, I’m here if you need me.’

  I stare at him, but he doesn’t look away and I think he means it.

  ‘You do know that she’s nuts, don’t you?’

  Mike exhales through his nose. ‘Aren’t we all? Just give her a bit of space. She’ll be fine.’

  I’m surprised that she’s told him anything, but he’s no idea what she can be like. She never said sorry to me for the way she was. It’s no excuse just saying she was ill. Everyone gets ill. She just stopped caring.

  ‘If you say so,’ I reply.

  ‘Big day tomorrow then?’ I think he means Dad, until he points over at the newspaper. ‘Gorbachev and Reagan meeting up. What do you think of that?’

  ‘Not much.’

  ‘Don’t you care?’

  It reminds me of Leila and I feel my shoulders tense.

  ‘Well, if they’re gonna blow us all up there’s nowt I can do about it. They’re all mad anyway.’

  Mike scratches his beard. ‘I don’t know about that. It’ll be interesting to see how it goes.’

  I stare out of the window, uninterested, and he coughs. It doesn’t make any difference to me what they do. As he plays with his food I can tell that he just wants us to get along. Maybe we can if Mum’s not here.

  ‘Anyway, Gran always said you shouldn’t talk politics at the dinner table. So you’d better zip it.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘No politics, no religion and no something else that I’ve forgotten.’

  He holds his hands up. ‘Fine. How was your day?’

  I go cross-eyed. ‘Great,’ I reply, and he smiles.

  ‘So. Does Cheryl really look like ET?’ he asks.

  I stretch my neck out and point at the ceiling before I speak.

  ‘Yesss,’ I reply, with my best impression, and he leans forwards into a laugh. He does one too and he looks like him with his long neck and skinny arms. It’s the funniest thing I’ve seen for ages.

  After dinner, I go to my room and he stays downstairs. When he’s on the phone, I pick up the other extension. A woman giggles and it isn’t Mum’s voice.

  ‘Hayley, is that you?’ he says, and I put the phone back down. He’s still seeing her, despite what he told me at the beach. I run my finger over the white plastic receiver as it lies silent and cold. He says the right things, but he’s just like everyone else and I’m right not to trust him.

  Later, I make some funny phone calls to Maxine Turner and go to bed early so that I don’t have to spend time with Mike. Without the mattress squeaks and laughter from across the landing, I fall asleep straight away and don’t wake up once. It’s the way it would be with just Dad and that night I hardly think about Kirsten at all.

  *

  I get used to Mum not being around and it isn’t as bad as it could be. Mike gets us films from the video shop and at least we don’t have to watch rubbish like Howards Way if she’s not around. On my way home from college, a girl with red hair disappears around the corner and I notice Stefan at the bottom of the road. I smile as though I’m pleased to see him, because things are going to change, and I wave him over as the church bell chimes four. It’s a while before Mike gets back from work.

  ‘All right?’

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Coming in or what?’ I ask him and he turns around to look where the girl was. It must have been Leila.

  ‘Just give me a second,’ he says. ‘Let me finish my tab.’

  He stands outside the gate smoking while the kid from down the road does bunny hops up the kerb on his new Mongoose. Stefan takes his time and pretends to watch. I know he’s just making sure that Leila has gone before he comes in. They’re all playing games: every last one of them.

  I leave the front door open and shout down from the bedroom when I hear him.

  ‘Up here!’

  When he comes in, I’m lying on the bed with one arm bent above my head.

  He glances over his shoulder. ‘Is your mum at work?’

  ‘She’s away.’ I pout and smile. ‘So?’

  He bites his lip. ‘So?’

  ‘So I’m going away soon. You’d better make the most of it while you can.’

  He doesn’t answer and I know that he doesn’t care if I go. I used to think he liked me, but I was wrong. What happens to me doesn’t matter to him.

  ‘I’m going to live in France.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Dunno, soon.’

  I think about a house with wooden beams and a Christmas tree with glass baubles. I’ve always wanted a real tree, instead of our white plastic one, but Mum says they’re a waste of money. I imagine Dad sitting by a log fire and I can’t wait. The more I think about it, the more I decide that everything will be OK.

  ‘Well…’ he says, but he walks over to the bed and I knew that he couldn’t resist.

  ‘I saw you with Leila before. You like her or something?’

  He frowns. ‘She’s OK. Different. Nothing like you.’

  ‘There’s no one like me.’ I wink. Stefan coughs and puts his hands over the front of his trousers as he sits on the edge of the bed. He can say what he likes, but he can’t hide how he really feels. He licks his lips and I pull him down on top of me. As I undo his trousers, I know this will be the last time we do this. He thinks he’s in control, but he isn’t: I am and they aren’t going to laugh at me any more.

  I stare at a cobweb in the corner of the window as he touches me. A thread so perfectly thin that you wouldn’t even know it was there. As he moves on top of me, I watch it twist on the air. Being with him is nice, because it’s familiar: something that I know better than I know myself and as we move together there are no surprises. We know each other so well that nothing changes.

  When the front door slams, Stefan jumps up off me, but Mike comes up into my bedroom without knocking as though he knows what we’re doing. When he sees me on the bed he turns around and leaves, but keeps the bedroom door open. Stefan stares up, white-faced, as Mike paces the landing.

  ‘You need to go now,’ Mike says, through the door. ‘Hayley, put some clothes on. Do it now, please.’

  The stairs creak as he walks back downstairs.

  ‘Oops,’ I say.

  ‘You’re out of order. Why didn’t you get under the covers?’

  I sit up and smile.

  ‘He gets violent. Hope he isn’t getting a knife.’

  Stefan goes white as he hesitates by the door. As he runs out I slip on my dressing gown and by the time I get downstairs he’s already gone. The front door is open and his shoes are still at the bottom of the stairs. Mike must have seen them when he came in.

  Mike is sitting on the sofa when I go into the living room. He looks away when I walk in and I stand in silence with the hum of the fish tank in the background.

  ‘I said put something on,’ he says.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘What were you doing?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘You’re lucky I can’t ring your mum.’

  ‘We’ve all got secrets, eh?’

  I wait for him to shout, but he doesn’t. He just stares out of the window. ‘I can’t talk to you right now.’

  ‘You look hot. Maybe you should get a drink of water,’ I say, before going upstairs.

  I put the stereo on and sit on the bed reading the NME while he stays downstairs. On the shelf is a mix tape that Stefan made for me, with the tracks handwritten in felt-tip pen. It’s probably the same one he gives to everyone, but he wanted me today and that’s all that matters. I’m not any of the things that they say I am. The thread from the cobweb continues to twist on the draught from the window and I wonder where the spider is. I like the idea of it waiting somewhere in the corner of the room spinning webs that no one can see.

  Mike avoids me for the rest of the night and I hear his
car engine start up, while I’m in bed, but I don’t go and check. I’m surprised when the alarm clock wakes me up in the morning and he’s already gone to work, because he usually makes sure I’m up for college. I miss him being there and it annoys me that I care, but at least I know I won’t be here for much longer.

  *

  Mum calls the next evening, to say that she’ll be staying at Cheryl’s for a few more days, because the poodle is sick. Mike asks her to come back for the day, but she says that it’s ‘impossible’, which means that she doesn’t want to see Dad. He’s coming back tomorrow and I know that she’ll stay away until he’s been.

  ‘You should be the one dealing with this, Sandra,’ Mike tells her, before he puts the phone down and looks over at me with tired eyes.

  ‘It’s better if she’s not here,’ I tell him, but he doesn’t look convinced.

  It makes no difference to me if she’s here or not; I’m just happy to go with Dad.

  ‘So,’ sighs Mike, ‘what’s the story with this boyfriend?’

  He sits forward on the seat as if he’s interested, but I know that he isn’t.

  ‘There isn’t one.’

  ‘When did you start courting, then?’

  I laugh. ‘Courting! What’s that?’

  He rolls his eyes. ‘Dating.’

  ‘We aren’t.’

  Mike raises an eyebrow. ‘But you take your clothes off for him?’

  I pout. ‘We do more than that.’ I flick my hair back over my shoulder and Mike shakes his head. He pretends to read his magazine, but stares at the same spot.

  ‘You’ll get a name for yourself.’

  ‘So will he.’

  He closes the magazine and puts it on the floor. ‘He’s a boy. It’s different.’

  ‘So boys can do what they want and girls can’t? That’s hypocritical.’

  ‘You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You can be anything. Don’t mess it up.’

  I think about answering back, but don’t. They just make up the rules as they go along. I try to imagine what I could be, but I can’t think of anything. I stretch out on the sofa and we watch television in silence until he falls asleep. The lamp casts an upward beam of orange light over the kingfisher photograph on the wall, while the television flickers from the other side of the room and I move closer to him. I stand over him and watch him in the half-light. When he’s awake, it’s different, but when he’s asleep I can look at him properly. I see every fleck of stubble on his chin and every last freckle. When he’s asleep, there’s no act and I don’t need to pretend either. We’re ourselves and no one else. I see us for what we really are. Two people forced together, nothing alike and everything the same, just a pair of shadows that no one notices. I reach over and touch his hand, before I go up to bed. It’s softer than I expected and I pull away as he exhales. I almost cover him with the throw, before I switch off the television and leave him in darkness.