Tell Me No Lies Read online

  ‘Gramps? Nan? When can I go to see Mum?’

  Grandad and Nan looked at each other.

  ‘I mean, I haven’t seen her in months,’ Mike rushed on. Now he’d actually asked the question, he was afraid to hear their answer.

  ‘When would you like to see her?’ Nan asked carefully.

  ‘As soon as possible,’ Mike replied. Before I start to believe my own lies, he added silently.

  ‘I’ll find out the procedure for prison visits and then we’ll all travel up to the prison together.’

  ‘So you’ll come with me to see her?’ Mike was unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

  ‘We’ll accompany you to the prison. And we’ll be there if you need us . . .’ Nan began.

  ‘But you can go in and see your mum by yourself,’ said Gramps firmly.

  ‘What your grandad means is . . .’ began Nan.

  ‘I know exactly what Gramps means,’ Mike interrupted.

  He turned his head away so they couldn’t see his expression. He tried not to mind, he tried his hardest. But he failed. He was disappointed. And more than that, he was hurt.

  21

  Gemma

  Control

  Gemma stared out of her window at the night sky. The full moon shone silver at the edge of a cloud. The cloud grew lighter and brighter as it moved in front of the moon. Maybe her mum was looking up at the very same scene at that precise moment.

  Somewhere out there was Gemma’s mum. She wasn’t dead – she was alive. All this time Gemma had thought she was invisible because her mum had died, only to find it was all a lie. She’d thought the reason she couldn’t seem to make friends or talk to other people was because she lived in this house with no one to talk to, no one to advise her. Dad and Tarwin were totally wrapped up in themselves – and each other. Gemma had always believed that if her mum was still alive . . . And now she’d found out precisely that.

  She sat on her bed, her mum’s scarf draped over her bedside lamp. She was a fool. The biggest fool in the universe. Everyone lied to her. Or ignored her. She was nothing. She was no one. She was like water running down a plughole. She had no control over anything. And she was so sick of being nothing. Somehow, in some way, she had to make a difference.

  Gemma opened her latest scrapbook. She stared at the mum in the photo – a happy, smiling mum hugging her husband. Gemma turned the page. A single drop of water fell on the newspaper article. Slowly, the tiny dome of water flattened as it spread out, soaking into the paper. Gemma slammed the scrapbook shut and threw it against the wall.

  ‘Gemma, can I come in?’

  Gemma scooted into her bed, pulling the blankets up to her neck as she turned to lie on her side. She stretched out an arm to turn off the lamp but she was too late, her bedroom door opened.

  ‘Gemma, can I talk to you?’

  ‘I’m sleepy, Dad.’

  ‘It’s about your mother.’

  ‘I’m very tired. Can we do this some other time?’ Gemma turned her head into her pillow.

  She felt the foot of her bed sink as Dad sat down.

  ‘I know I shouldn’t have done it. It’s just that you were only four and you kept crying and crying for your mum. It seemed to go on forever so I decided . . .’

  Gemma sat up to glare at her dad. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I decided it would be easier if you thought she was dead. Then you wouldn’t break your heart every day thinking she was coming back.’

  ‘It would be easier for who? For you?’

  Gemma’s dad sighed. ‘I wasn’t just thinking about myself in all this. I know it doesn’t seem like it but I wasn’t being totally selfish. You were so unhappy.’

  ‘Unlike the past couple of years when I’ve been ecstatic.’ Gemma wanted to scream and scream at her dad until he realised just what he’d done. ‘My mum’s out there somewhere and I’m going to find her and . . .’

  ‘And what? Gemma, your mum left us – not the other way around. She didn’t want us.’

  ‘She . . . she . . .’ The denial dried on Gemma’s lips.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. There’s more to it than that.’ Dad shook his head.

  ‘And you really don’t know where she is?’

  ‘No. Not any more,’ Dad admitted.

  ‘Why has she never been to see us?’ Gemma looked up at all the scrapbooks on top of her wardrobe. They lay there, mocking her.

  ‘We moved and she lost touch,’ Dad sighed. ‘It’s very complicated.’

  ‘I’m not stupid. Explain it to me. You can use words of two syllables if you have to.’

  Dad looked at her, obviously searching for the right words. ‘Gemma, believe me, your mum loved you. It was just that your mum and I . . . well, we couldn’t live together any more.’

  But his words bounced off Gemma like rainwater off a corrugated iron roof. She heard him, his words echoed in her head but they had no effect. Actions spoke louder than words and the plain fact was, her mum hadn’t been to see her. Not once. Not even a Christmas card or a birthday card.

  ‘Did Mum love you?’

  ‘When we first got married. Not when she left,’ Dad admitted. ‘By then we were better apart than together.’

  ‘Do you still love her?’

  Dad looked like he might not answer. But then he spoke. Just one word, whispered softly. ‘Yes.’

  Gemma looked at her father, really looked at him. It was as if she was seeing him for the first time. Dad. A lonely, bitter, old man. Old before his time but old nonetheless. And it was because of him that her mum had gone away. It was because of him that she had nothing now. Not even an illusion to cling to.

  ‘Goodnight, Dad.’ Gemma settled down in her bed, turning away from her father.

  ‘Gemma, I did what I thought was best,’ Dad repeated.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Look, is there anything you want to ask me?’

  Gemma turned her head. ‘Tarwin’s known about Mum all along, hasn’t he?’

  Dad nodded.

  ‘Is that why you and him are always fighting – because he knew the truth about Mum?’

  At first Gemma thought that Dad wasn’t going to answer, but then he sighed and nodded.

  ‘Tarwin was . . . Tarwin is very like your mum.’ Dad bowed his head.

  ‘And I’m like you,’ Gemma finished bitterly. ‘That’s why Tarwin’s your favourite.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Dad denied at once.

  ‘Yes it is. For the last couple of years, as far as you were concerned, your only child was Tarwin. It’s not as if I came second after Tarwin – I wasn’t even in the race. As far as you were concerned, I didn’t exist. I was nowhere.’

  ‘What’re you talking about?’ Dad asked earnestly. ‘I’m sorry if you felt I was neglecting you, but I never did. At least, I never meant to. I was just trying to sort things out between me and Tarwin.’

  ‘And what about me?’

  ‘You were doing fine. Your school reports all said you were doing OK.’

  ‘And that’s it?’ Gemma said scornfully. ‘If my school reports say I’m handing in my homework then the rest of my life must be OK?’

  ‘If something was wrong, you would’ve said . . .’

  Gemma stared with disbelief at her dad.

  ‘You don’t know a thing about me,’ she said with disgust.

  ‘That’s not true.’ Dad shook his head.

  ‘What’s my favourite colour then?’ asked Gemma.

  Dad stared at her.

  ‘OK, here’s an easier one. What’s my favourite band?’ At Dad’s blank look, Gemma continued. ‘No? How about this one. What’s my favourite flavour of ice-cream? Who’s my favourite singer? Who’s my best friend?’

  ‘Gemma . . .’

  ‘You can’t answer any of them, can you?’ Gemma was shouting now. ‘Well, for your information, I don’t have a best friend. And my favourite flavour of ice-cream is chocolate chip.’

  ‘Gemma, please. Listen
to me . . .’

  ‘Dad, could you go now please? I’m very tired. Goodnight.’

  Dad’s words trailed off at the look on Gemma’s face. She held her breath as she waited for him to speak, to protest. Nothing. Moments passed. Gemma listened as her dad walked across the room.

  ‘D’you want me to get you anything?’ he asked wearily.

  Too little, much too late.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Goodnight, Gemma.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  Gemma waited until she heard the door shut before switching on her lamp. The silhouettes of stars and moonbeams and rainbows all around her room left her cold and empty. Removing the scarf from over her lamp, she opened the bottom drawer in her bedside table and stuffed the scarf at the back of it. Now the room was filled with a cold, yellow light. Gemma looked around. This was how her room was going to look from now on. She got out of bed and picked up each of the scrapbooks left on her floor. Standing on her chair, she placed each scrapbook on top of the piles already on her wardrobe. When at last she’d finished she went back to bed, giving the scrapbooks one last look before she turned off her lamp. She knew it would be a long time before she took any of them down again.

  22

  Mike

  Robyn

  ‘Hi, Mike.’

  Mike felt his face grow hot as Robyn Spiner smiled at him. She really was gorgeous. And she was so smart. Apparently she never came below third in any school test. Mike had thought that after the first day she’d never look at him twice and yet here she was standing in front of his desk, talking to him. He felt like bowing down in front of her and calling out, ‘I’m not worthy! I’m not worthy!’

  ‘Hi, Robyn. How are you?’ Mike hoped his voice sounded normal. Like it was an everyday occurrence for him to chat to the best-looking girl in the class.

  ‘I’m fine. This is for you.’ Robyn handed Mike a purple envelope.

  Surprised, Mike tore it open at once. He started reading.

  ‘Will you be able to come?’

  ‘Of course. Wouldn’t miss it,’ Mike replied eagerly. He knew he should check with Nan and Gramps first, but as far as he was concerned that was just academic. An invitation to Robyn’s party! Wild horses couldn’t keep him away.

  ‘Good. I’m glad.’ Robyn walked back to her table.

  ‘ “Good. I’m glad.” ’ Kane mimicked, elbowing Mike in the ribs.

  ‘Are you going?’ Mike asked, showing Kane his invitation.

  ‘Yeah, but I had mine flung down on my desk,’ Kane replied. ‘I didn’t get the verbal invitation and the fluttering eyelashes that you got.’

  ‘You’re just jealous,’ Mike laughed.

  ‘Too right!’

  Inside Mike was doing a double-back somersault with a half twist! Now this was more like it. Things were definitely looking up. He was off to see his mum soon, Gramps and Nan were not too bad for oldies, and he was getting on OK at school. And now this. Things were definitely looking up.

  23

  Gemma

  Hands Off

  ‘Give us a chip, Robyn,’ Beth pleaded.

  ‘Shush! Keep your voice down,’ Robyn hissed. ‘If Mrs Brewer catches us in here with chips, she’ll go ballistic.’

  ‘I’d rather be outside anyway. Why d’you want to stay in this grotty library?’ Beth asked.

  ‘Cos it’s freezing outside. So much for sunny May! It’s perishing and you might have anti-freeze flowing in your veins but I don’t!’ Robyn told her. ‘So, is everyone all set for my party on Saturday?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You bet!’

  ‘Can’t wait.’

  ‘Good.’ Robyn smiled.

  ‘So who’s coming?’ asked Livia.

  ‘Everyone,’ Robyn said with satisfaction. ‘But hands off the new boy – OK? He’s mine.’

  ‘Who? Michael?’ asked Livia.

  ‘Listen to you. “Who? Michael?” Like you didn’t know who I was talking about,’ Robyn scoffed. ‘You can’t fool me. I’ve seen you looking him up and down.’

  ‘That was just to see if he was labelled,’ Livia laughed.

  All around the table guffaws of disbelief sounded.

  ‘I mean it, you lot,’ Robyn stated. ‘Mike is mine. OK?’

  ‘How come you’re going to get the most interesting boy we’ve had at this school in yonks?’ Beth asked.

  ‘Cos it’s my party!’ Robyn grinned.

  ‘Have you already invited Mike?’

  ‘Yep! And he’s coming. I told you – everyone is.’

  ‘You are lucky, having your birthday just after the hunkiest guy in the school arrives,’ Livia said.

  ‘It was fate.’ Robyn gave a mock sigh.

  ‘Is Gemma coming?’ Beth lowered her voice just a fraction.

  ‘You must be joking. When has she ever said more than five words to me at any one time?’

  ‘Besides, she’s so gloomy, she’d make it feel more like a funeral party than a birthday party,’ Beth announced.

  ‘So you didn’t invite her?’ said Livia.

  ‘What d’you think?’ said Robyn. ‘As far as I know, she doesn’t know a thing about it.’

  ‘She’s weird, isn’t she?’ Livia mused. ‘I don’t know what to make of her.’

  ‘Does anyone?’ asked Beth.

  The others tittered, all agreeing with Beth.

  Gemma closed her book and gathered up her belongings. She couldn’t bear to hear any more. Piling everything into her bag, she slung it over her shoulder. How was she going to get out of the library without being seen by any of them? She was at the back of the library. They were seated at the table in the next aisle down, so unless she waited for all of them to leave or they all faced the wall as she walked past, there was no way they wouldn’t know she had heard every syllable of their conversation. Gemma took a deep breath as she walked out of her aisle.

  At Robyn’s table, it suddenly went very quiet. Gemma couldn’t help it. She knew she shouldn’t look. She knew she should just keep walking, but she simply couldn’t. She turned her head to look at them and her look became a scowl. Robyn, Beth, Livia and Gillian – they all watched her. And of them all, only Robyn looked embarrassed. Gemma had to get out of there before she drowned in the stillness rippling out from their table. She turned and headed for the door. It was only outside the library as she leaned against the wall panting for air, that Gemma realised she’d been holding her breath.

  Gemma walked then ran all the way to the girls’ toilets. She shut herself in the cubicle furthest away from the door and sat down on the toilet seat, her head in her hands. The ache in her chest was almost unbearable. Gemma took deep breaths and tried to force herself to calm down, but nothing seemed to work. Robyn and the others – they all thought they were so clever. And they all thought Gemma was nothing, with no feelings to hurt and no sense to understand anything that was going on around her. Even if Gemma hadn’t been sitting behind them and listening to every word, did they really think that she’d never get to hear of Robyn’s party? Or maybe they just figured that she wouldn’t care. Well, she did – very much. Gemma would’ve gone if Robyn had bothered to invite her. She would give her right arm to go. But she hadn’t been asked, and everyone in the class knew it. Even Mike had been invited. That one thought burnt more than any other.

  Gemma tilted her head back and closed her eyes. How she wished she had someone to talk with. Someone to help her lessen the pain in her chest. She opened her eyes and stared straight ahead. It was time to stop feeling sorry for herself. It was time to take control. She had no one to talk with – but there was someone to talk to.

  Gemma stood up and left the cubicle. She wouldn’t waste any more time, nor would she stop to think about what she was doing. She had work to do – and there was nothing and no one who could stop her from doing it.

  24

  Mike

  Control

  ‘Mike, can I talk to you?’

  Oh no! What did she want
now? Why couldn’t this girl leave him alone?

  ‘I’m a bit busy at the moment.’

  ‘It won’t take long.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m busy.’

  ‘Mike, are you playing football or are you chatting?’ Kane called out with impatience.

  ‘It’s important,’ Gemma stressed, a restraining hand on Mike’s arm.

  ‘Mike . . .?’ Kane was about to blow a gasket.

  ‘OK! Just a moment!’ Mike shouted out. He threw the ball towards Kane before turning back to Gemma. He wasn’t sure who he was shouting at – Kane or Gemma. ‘What is it?’

  ‘You got an invite to Robyn’s party on Saturday?’

  ‘Yes. So? Are you going?’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Gemma replied. ‘I’m busy on Saturday.’

  Why was she asking him about the party? Mike waited for Gemma to continue. She looked down at her feet and around the school grounds and at the school building. Slowly, as he watched her, everything else faded away. Mike knew something was coming, something he wouldn’t like.

  ‘It sounds like it’ll be a great party,’ Mike ventured.

  He spoke to fill the silence. He spoke to stop Gemma from speaking. He didn’t like the way she was looking at him – like she hated him. What had he done?

  ‘Anyway, I’d better get back to the game.’ Mike turned to run back to join his friends.

  ‘I don’t want you to go.’

  Turning around, Mike frowned deeply. ‘Kane’s waiting for me. I’m in goal.’

  Gemma took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think you should go – to Robyn’s party.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Silence.

  ‘Why not?’ Mike asked again.

  ‘Your mum’s in prison,’ Gemma replied softly. ‘I don’t think Robyn would want a jailbird’s son in her house.’

  Mike froze. One puff of wind, one whispering breeze and his whole body would shatter into a million, trillion pieces.

  ‘I don’t want to tell Robyn about your mum but I will – if you force me to. Tell her this afternoon that you can’t go to her party, or I’ll tell her why she should take back her invite.’

  The silence that stretched between them was bigger than the Grand Canyon. Mike struggled for something to say but his mind was a total blank. He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. He kept trying to tell himself that he’d misheard, that somehow he was mistaken and Gemma hadn’t warned him off from going to Robyn’s party. But he knew from the hard expression on her face that he’d heard every word correctly.