Tell Me No Lies Page 4

  ‘I’ll . . . I can lend you some money if you like,’ Mike said, his face burning.

  Gemma turned to look at him, a deep frown cutting into her face.

  ‘For your lunch,’ Mike hastened on. ‘If you’d like.’ Maybe this is the moment where we become friends, he thought.

  If only he could tell what Gemma was thinking.

  15

  Gemma

  Lunch Money

  Try as she might, Gemma couldn’t figure out what Mike was thinking. For one split second she had actually thought he was trying to buy her off. But that was ludicrous. Mike wasn’t like that – at least, she didn’t think so. And yet . . . Why would he offer to lend her money?

  ‘There are no strings attached. You could pay me back tomorrow – or whenever,’ Mike continued.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Cos I’m not giving you the money.’ Mike frowned. ‘It’s just a loan, that’s all.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that,’ Gemma dismissed. ‘I meant why are you lending me the money in the first place?’

  ‘I just thought you’d like some lunch.’

  ‘Oh.’ Gemma thought for a moment. ‘OK then. I am hungry. I’ll pay you back at the beginning of next week.’

  ‘Fine,’ Mike said, relieved. He dug into his pocket and took out a number of coins. ‘There you are.’

  Gemma hesitated, then reached out a reluctant hand and took the money. ‘I’m going to pay you back, OK? Every penny.’

  ‘OK. OK. Let’s go and get some lunch.’

  They stood up and walked along the path towards the canteen together. Gemma couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone for lunch with someone. She looked at Mike. He looked at her.

  ‘I’m sorry about your mum,’ she said, for the sake of saying something.

  Mike didn’t reply.

  ‘My own mum died when I was four.’ Gemma’s voice was quiet. ‘I don’t . . . I don’t remember what she looked like, to be honest, and Dad doesn’t have any pictures of her.’

  They carried on walking.

  ‘At least you can see your mum. At least you know that someday you’ll be back together.’

  Mike still didn’t speak.

  ‘How long will she be in prison for?’ Gemma hoped he didn’t mind her asking. She wasn’t being nosy, not really. She was just very interested.

  ‘Mum was sentenced to ten years.’

  ‘Ten years!’ Gemma was shocked.

  ‘But her lawyer is trying to lodge an appeal. We’re hoping her sentence will be reduced.’

  Ten years. The last newspaper article Gemma had seen said that Mike’s mum had been found guilty and that sentencing was going to be delayed until the judge had read various social and psychiatric reports. Gemma had no idea Mike’s mum had been put in prison for so long. She’d obviously missed the newspaper articles which reported the sentence. From what she had read, it seemed that Mike’s mum had hit her husband, knocked him out and left him in a coma before fleeing with Mike. Gemma remembered reading that Marsha Clancy – or Woods, to use her married name – had claimed mental and physical abuse but the judge had been unsympathetic. He’d warned Mike’s mum that pending the reports, he was inclined towards a harsher sentence as ‘too many women were claiming abuse in circumstances where no abuse could be proven.’ Most of the newspapers had been on Mike’s mum’s side. Some had not.

  ‘So now you live with your grandparents?’

  ‘That’s right. I was dreading it at first, but they’re not so bad,’ Mike said. ‘I . . . I blamed them for a while for not coming to help us sooner.’

  ‘But you don’t blame them now?’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t think they knew what was really happening – not until the trial at any rate. We lived over two hundred miles away so we didn’t visit each other that often – especially after Dad lost his job. Besides, Dad was their son. Mum was just their daughter-in-law, so she was hardly going to tell them what was going on inside our house.’

  ‘You mean your grandparents are your dad’s family, not your mum’s,’ Gemma asked, surprised.

  Mike nodded. ‘Mum’s parents both died before I was born.’

  They walked in silence as Gemma digested this piece of news. She wondered how she’d feel if she was in Mike’s position.

  ‘It must be so hard to live with your grandparents, knowing your mum is in prison for the manslaughter of their son,’ Gemma ventured. ‘I’m sure I’d feel like I was walking on broken glass all the time. I’d be afraid to do or say the wrong thing in case I upset them.’

  ‘That’s exactly how it feels.’ Mike stopped to stare at Gemma. ‘I feel like I shouldn’t be there – because of my mum. But then there’s my dad – and he was my dad.’

  ‘And here you are stuck in the middle,’ said Gemma.

  ‘That’s exactly right.’

  Mike and Gemma exchanged a smile.

  It’s going to be all right, Gemma thought, her smile widening. She and Mike had something in common and they understood each other. Maybe they could even be friends. For the first time in a long, long while Gemma found she had something to look forward to. It was such a rare, exciting feeling that Gemma felt it fizzing in her like sherbet. Mike was talking to her, confiding in her. She wasn’t invisible any more. She mattered.

  16

  Mike

  Stay Put

  ‘So what sort of things were going on in your house?’ Gemma asked.

  Mike inhaled sharply. Gemma certainly didn’t mess about, did she? She looked him in the eye and came right out and asked him. Nobody had ever done that before – not even the social workers and the probation officers. They’d taken ages beating around the bush, trying to ask him exactly that question. At first he’d said nothing, afraid that every syllable might reveal the truth. Then he tried to cover up for both Mum and Dad, but that didn’t work either. Like his mum, he didn’t believe in airing their dirty family linen for the whole world to see.

  How was he supposed to open his mouth and tell strangers about the cruel mental games his dad liked to play on him and his mum? Just thinking about them made his mind turn cold and his blood run boiling hot. How was he supposed to tell strangers that he had plenty of scars, only they were deep inside where they couldn’t be seen. It was only when he realised that in trying to protect his mum’s privacy and his dad’s reputation, he was hurting his mum, that he gave in and told the truth. Only by that time, no one believed what he had to say. He’d left it too late.

  ‘Mike?’

  Mike snapped back to the present, aware that Gemma was watching him, waiting for his answer.

  Mike shrugged, looking out over the grounds. ‘We did OK, unless Dad had been drinking. He was made redundant a while ago and he couldn’t find a job, so he started drinking. He was dangerous when he’d been drinking. He hated the whole world then, but he didn’t have the whole world in front of him. Just Mum and me. But mainly Mum. Mum protected me.’

  ‘I see. Were you with your mum until . . . until she was sentenced?’ Gemma asked.

  ‘No. Once the police caught up with us, Mum was remanded in custody and I stayed with one of Mum’s friends. After that I stayed at a foster home for a while, but I hated it. After Mum was sentenced, she said I had to stay with Gramps and Nan. I didn’t want to but she wrote to them – and here I am.’

  ‘But you told me they’re not too bad,’ Gemma said.

  ‘They’re OK – in their own way. It’s not ideal though. To be honest, it’s like living with strangers. I don’t really know them. Not well. After Dad was made redundant, we only saw them about once a year, if that. I feel like we’re . . . we’re worlds apart.’

  They reached the canteen and, opening the door, immediately found themselves at the back of the queue.

  ‘What’re you going to have?’ Gemma asked. ‘I didn’t get a chance to see what was on offer.’

  Mike looked around, nervously. There they were – Kane and Robbie and the others. He could see them. And more imp
ortantly, they could see him. They were watching him. They could see him standing next to Gemma. He couldn’t join them now – they’d only ask all kinds of questions he didn’t want to answer. But he couldn’t stay put either.

  ‘I . . . I have to go now,’ Mike said quickly. ‘Enjoy your lunch.’

  Without giving Gemma a second to respond, Mike walked out of the canteen. He didn’t have to look back to know that Gemma was watching him.

  17

  Gemma

  Biting

  Gemma could feel the coins biting into her hands as she clenched her fists. OK, so Mike couldn’t wait to get away from her, but did he have to make it so obvious? A few people around her were staring and sniggering. What was it about her that made everyone run in the opposite direction? Couldn’t he have just waited in the queue with her? Was that asking so much? Apparently it was.

  Gemma stood stock still, staring after Mike. She watched him until he turned the corner and was out of sight. Slowly, she became aware of the pain in her hands as the coins he’d given her bit deeper into her palms. She longed to go after him and tell him to keep his rotten money. She wanted to throw it back in his face. That’s what she should do. She was all right to chat to as long as no one else was watching – was that it? OK in private. Invisible in public.

  ‘Are you going to move up or what?’ the boy behind her asked impatiently.

  Gemma looked ahead. Quite a gap had opened up in the queue. She looked down at the money in her hands. Lunch money? Friendship money? Or just leave-me-alone money? It was so stupid of her to think it was anything but the latter. Without a word she moved to stand directly behind the person ahead of her. Mike had given her this money to buy herself some lunch, and that was just what she was going to do. If that was the way he wanted it, then fine. Two could play that game.

  18

  Mike

  Guilty

  Lunchtime was over and everyone was in the classroom.

  ‘Butterworth’s late. That’s not like him,’ Kane said, sitting on top of his table.

  Mike didn’t dare look in Gemma’s direction. Not once. He chatted with Kane and tried not to think of his empty, protesting stomach. What was she doing now? Was she behind him, watching him? Or was she cutting out more newspaper articles?

  I wonder why she does that, Mike thought. Maybe . . .

  That’s enough, he told himself sternly. He was determined not to think about Gemma. She was too complicated. OK, so he’d given her some lunch money and he’d probably said more to her in the last few days than most people at school had said to her in the last few months, and yet here he was feeling guilty. He was going to keep away from Gemma. She was bad news. Aggravation. And aggravation was the one thing he could do without. He’d had enough aggravation over the past year to last him a lifetime and beyond. He was going to spend the rest of his life keeping himself to himself. He wasn’t going to get caught up in anyone else’s problems but his own. He’d made that promise to himself practically every day since his dad had died.

  Mike closed his eyes. Immediately he could see his dad falling, falling, falling in slow motion. Falling so slowly it was as if he’d never hit the ground. Mike opened his eyes at once, forcing the image away.

  It took a while.

  Funny how after all this time, the image grew steadily more difficult to force out of his mind rather than easier. All he had to do was close his eyes and his dad was back, like a cheap magician’s trick. The past was playing in his mind again.

  Dad was pushing him, pushing him out of the way and Mike stood there, his fists clenched as he longed to push back.

  Mike’s fists were clenched now. Slowly, painfully, he straightened out his aching fingers.

  If only he could stop feeling guilty all the time. Gemma wasn’t his fault. Just as his mother wasn’t his fault. She wasn’t. She wasn’t . . .

  19

  Gemma

  The Truth

  They sat at the dinner table in the sitting room. Dad sat at the head of the table, with Tarwin and Gemma on either side of him facing each other. They were having dinner together – a rare occurrence – but no one had said a word in almost ten minutes. If the meal wasn’t already indigestible, the atmosphere would certainly have made it so.

  Gemma’s arm was beginning to ache from trying to cut into the overcooked lamb on her plate. At last, a piece gave way. Gemma took a deep breath and popped it in her mouth. It was dry and tough and chewy. Lucky her teeth were all in good condition or she’d be in danger of losing one – or wearing them out at any rate!

  ‘Dad, I’ve got something to tell you,’ Tarwin said suddenly.

  Oh-oh! Light the blue touchpaper, then stand well back! Gemma kept her eyes on her plate.

  ‘I’ve quit school. I’ve told them that I’m not going back,’ Tarwin continued.

  Gemma’s head snapped up as if it was on elastic. Whatever else she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.

  ‘You’ve done what?’ Dad’s knife and fork clattered on to his plate.

  ‘I want to get a job. I want . . . I need my own place,’ said Tarwin. His tone was defiant and yet Gemma could’ve sworn there was more than a hint of unhappiness in it too. Tarwin seemed to be upset about his decision and for the life of her Gemma couldn’t figure out why. She turned from Tarwin to her father. Would her dad notice? Not from the look on his face.

  ‘Have you lost your mind? What about your A levels?’ Dad stared, astounded.

  ‘When I have a job and my own place, I’ll start taking evening classes and study for them that way,’ Tarwin recited what was obviously a rehearsed speech.

  ‘No way. I won’t allow it.’ Mount Vesuvius had nothing on Dad.

  ‘You can’t do anything about it.’

  ‘You still live under my roof.’

  ‘Not for much longer,’ said Tarwin with satisfaction. ‘That’s the point.’

  ‘And all this is to get away from me, is it?’

  Gemma watched as the hurt he couldn’t hide played across her dad’s face. So far she hadn’t said a word and she wasn’t going to either. She and Tarwin had never really had that much to say to each other, but when Tarwin had announced his intention to leave, Gemma’s stomach had lurched, leaving her strangely breathless. She didn’t want Tarwin to go – and the realisation shook her. Gemma lifted up her napkin to her mouth and used her tongue to push the meat out into it. She rolled up the paper napkin and placed it on her lap. She should say something, she should be involved too, but for the life of her she could think of nothing to say.

  ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with you these days.’ Dad shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter what I do or say – it’s always wrong.’

  ‘That’s just how I feel,’ Tarwin said bitterly.

  ‘Tarwin, don’t do this. You are about to make the biggest mistake of your life,’ Dad said. His voice was terse, as if each word was being tightly reined.

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time someone in this house made a big mistake, would it?’ Tarwin replied.

  Dad’s face drained of all colour. Gemma watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat. He suddenly looked old and lonely and very tired. His skin looked like parchment and his eyes were dull and washed out. At the sight of him, unexpected tears pricked at Gemma’s eyes.

  ‘Are you all right, Dad?’ Gemma asked. She rounded on her brother. ‘See what you’ve done?’

  ‘Why don’t you mind your own business,’ Tarwin snapped.

  ‘Don’t talk to your sister like that.’

  ‘Why not? You do.’

  ‘Tarwin, you have no right to talk to me like that. You should treat me with respect.’

  They were off again.

  ‘I wish Mum were here,’ Gemma sighed.

  ‘Mum had too much sense to hang around this dump,’ Tarwin said bitterly. ‘She took off as soon as she could and I don’t blame her.’

  Gemma stared at Tarwin. ‘What’re you talking about? Mum�
�s dead.’

  ‘Course she isn’t. That’s just what Dad told you to stop you asking for Mum all the time.’

  ‘What?’ Gemma’s head snapped around to face her father. ‘Mum’s alive?’

  ‘Gemma . . .’

  Gemma leapt to her feet. Her eyes blazed with a fiery life neither Tarwin nor her dad had ever seen before.

  ‘Is Mum alive?’

  Silence.

  Tarwin and Dad looked at each other. Tarwin was the first to glance away. He looked at Gemma, contrite.

  ‘Look, Gem, I shouldn’t . . .’

  But Gemma didn’t want to hear it.

  ‘Is Mum alive?’ she shouted at her dad.

  ‘Gemma, I . . .’ The look on her face froze any words of explanation Dad wanted to say. He nodded slowly. ‘Yes.’

  Gemma’s head was whirling. It was as if she was standing in a lift many storeys up and it was suddenly plummeting uncontrollably towards the basement.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Gemma . . .’

  ‘Where is she?’ Her fists banged down on the table making the crockery and cutlery jump.

  ‘I don’t know. I really don’t – that’s the truth,’ Dad insisted.

  ‘The truth? You wouldn’t know the truth if it rained all over you. All this time, all these years, you let me think my mum was dead and she’s not. She’s out there somewhere and . . . and . . .’ And only then did the consequences of what had just been said hit her, really hit her. ‘I hate you. I’ll never forgive you for lying to me – never.’

  ‘Listen, Gemma . . .’ Dad was on his feet now.

  But Gemma didn’t wait to hear any more. She raced out of the room. She couldn’t bear to be anywhere near her dad. He was a liar – and worse.

  Somewhere out there, near or far, for better or for worse, her mum was alive.

  20

  Mike

  Visiting

  Come on, Mike. Ask them. Just open your mouth and ask them. They can only say no. Only.

  For the past hour, Mike had been trying to work up the courage to ask something that had been on his mind for a while.