Tell Me No Lies Read online

  ‘Tell her you can’t go,’ Gemma repeated.

  She turned and walked away, leaving Mike staring after her.

  25

  Gemma

  I Can’t Come

  ‘Er . . . Robyn. Thanks for the invite to your party, but I’ve just remembered . . .’

  Gemma bent under her table to get her bag.

  ‘I can’t come. I have to go somewhere on Saturday with my nan and grandad,’ Mike continued. ‘Sorry. I completely forgot.’

  ‘You can’t come?’ Robyn said, dismayed. ‘But I was hoping you’d be there.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Mike mumbled.

  ‘Where’re you going on Saturday?’ asked Robyn, disappointment written all over her face.

  ‘Out. Gramps and Nan are taking me . . . taking me . . . out,’ Mike finished weakly.

  ‘I only have one birthday a year. Can’t you ask them to take you out some other time?’

  ‘Believe me, I really wish I could,’ Mike replied, his voice shaking slightly. ‘But I can’t.’

  Gemma retrieved her bag and sat back down in her chair. Mike was looking directly at her. Not at Robyn – at her. Gemma felt a slow, burning flush creep over her face and down her body. She wasn’t going to be the first one to look away. She wasn’t. And she wasn’t going to feel guilty either. The sick, gnawing ache in her stomach would soon pass. And if she wiped her hands on her skirt enough times, her palms would stop feeling clammy. And the horrible clawing voice in her head telling her that what she was doing was oh-so wrong would melt away if she ignored it for long enough.

  She was helping Mike really, only he was too stupid to realise it. What would happen if Robyn and Kane and the others found out about him and his mum? He didn’t want that. Neither did Gemma.

  You’re not doing this because you’re jealous, she told herself. That wasn’t it at all, no matter what the voice in her head said. She had Mike’s best interests at heart. He’d thank her one day.

  Not now.

  But one day.

  26

  Mike

  Home

  Mike walked home, his head bowed, deep in thought. He was going dizzy trying, but for the life of him he just couldn’t figure out what was going on. Why was Gemma so dead against him going to Robyn’s party? She’d said Robyn wouldn’t want a – what was the phrase she’d used? – a jailbird’s son in her house. Jailbird . . . Stupid word. Hateful, stupid word. But only Gemma knew about his mum. If she didn’t tell anyone, then no one else would know. Why was she so insistent that if he didn’t back out, she’d tell everyone about his mum? And worse than that, why had he given in and done it? Gemma had told him not to go to the party and without a single word of argument, he’d done as he was told. What was the matter with him? So what if Robyn found out? So what if the whole school found out?

  Mike’s steps slowed. Who was he trying to kid? He would hate it if anyone found out about him and his mum. And just admitting that to himself made him feel like the lowest of the low. Mum had done nothing wrong. Neither he nor his mum had anything to be ashamed of.

  Then why is your mum in prison and why are you living with your grandparents?

  The thought pushed its way into his head before he could stop it. Mike clenched his fists as he sought to drive it out again. He told himself over and over, ‘Mum’s done nothing wrong. Mum’s done nothing wrong.’

  But each time he murmured the words, he felt worse. He turned into the street where he now lived. He glanced down at his watch. He was late. Gramps and Nan expected him back home over an hour ago. What excuse could he come up with?

  ‘I stayed behind at school to volunteer for the school play.’

  ‘I stayed behind to practise for the inter-schools gymnastics competition.’

  Or the truth.

  ‘I sat on a bench in the park, trying to sort out my life. I sat and thought until my head was ringing and my mind was spinning and I’d got a raging headache, and it got me precisely nowhere.’

  Mike wondered what they’d make of the truth. He wondered what the whole world would make of the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. All he knew was that the truth was eating away at him like a strong acid and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Mum was in prison – and it was all his fault. With each day that passed, that fact grew harder and harder to bear.

  He was a coward when it came to his mum and he was just as much a coward when it came to Gemma. A first-class, grade-A, spineless coward.

  27

  Gemma

  Getting Away

  Gemma knocked twice before opening her brother’s bedroom door. He was sitting at his table busily writing something on a piece of paper. The moment his door opened, he immediately turned over the piece of paper, his hands moving to cover it protectively.

  ‘Tarwin, can I talk to you?’ Gemma hovered in the doorway, waiting for her brother’s answer.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Tarwin asked.

  Gemma took this as an invitation to come further into his bedroom. She closed the door carefully behind her. She looked around. It’d been a long time since she’d last been in his room. It hadn’t changed much. Clothes scattered in all four corners. A paper plate of something which looked like it might once have been pizza. A double bed covered with books, superhero comics and magazines. Only the walls were different. All the posters had been taken down. Gemma stared. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Tarwin’s bedroom walls without posters all over them. Posters of fast bikes, fast cars, fast planes, fast rockets.

  ‘Why did you take your posters down?’ Gemma asked.

  Tarwin shrugged. ‘I’m too old for that sort of thing now.’

  ‘You’re only seventeen.’

  ‘I’ll be eighteen in a few months.’

  Gemma nodded and looked around again. Without the posters, Tarwin’s room looked strangely empty. She hadn’t really thought about it before now, but maybe Tarwin’s posters served the same purpose as her scrapbooks. Maybe whenever things got too tough, Tarwin could just think himself into his posters and off he went in a hurry. She wondered if Tarwin ever dreamt of anything else but getting away.

  ‘So what d’you want?’ Tarwin’s tone was curt.

  ‘D’you know where Mum is?’

  Tarwin put down his pen and swivelled his chair around.

  ‘No, I don’t. I wish I did.’

  Gemma looked around, kicking idly at the carpet. She was unwilling to leave it there. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that Mum wasn’t . . . wasn’t dead?’

  Tarwin sighed. ‘I wanted to, many times. But Dad said it should come from him – and for once I agreed with him. I really wish you hadn’t found out the truth the way you did. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. It was bang out of order.’

  ‘You should have told me a lot sooner. I know we haven’t had much to say to each other recently but you shouldn’t have waited for Dad to tell me. In your shoes I would’ve told you.’

  ‘Would you? Would you really?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Tarwin’s smile was almost sad. ‘Gemma, one day you’ll find out that life isn’t about cutting out the bits you like and want to keep and ignoring all the other bits as if they don’t exist. It’s more complicated than that.’

  Gemma blushed at the thought that Tarwin knew about her . . . her hobby.

  ‘Don’t be patronising. I know that.’ Gemma scowled.

  ‘Sometimes I wonder if you do.’

  Gemma’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Have you been looking in my scrapbooks?’

  Tarwin looked away, unable to meet Gemma’s eyes. It was only momentary, but it was enough.

  ‘You had no right to go through my private stuff. You’d go ballistic if I did that to you!’ Gemma stormed.

  ‘Well, you must admit it’s a pretty strange thing to do – cutting out photos of different women. It’s not like you know any of them.’

  ‘That’s not the point. And it’s not stran
ge,’ Gemma denied. ‘You collect comics, I just collect stories.’

  Tarwin shrugged. ‘If you say so.’

  Gemma glared at Tarwin. He started grinning. Desperate to change the subject, she looked from Tarwin to the table behind him. ‘What were you so busy writing when I came in?’

  Immediately Tarwin turned back, defensively covering the piece of paper with one hand. ‘None of your business.’

  Gemma stared at her brother. He looked sheepish, almost embarrassed. That could only mean one thing.

  ‘Have you got a girlfriend?’ Gemma guessed.

  ‘No . . . of course not . . . no, I . . . don’t talk rubbish . . .’ Tarwin stumbled over his denial, his face turning beetroot.

  ‘You do!’ Gemma smiled. ‘I thought so. For the last couple of months you’ve reeked of aftershave, and that anti-spot cream isn’t Dad’s and it certainly isn’t mine.’

  ‘Well, so what if I do.’

  ‘You’ve got a girlfriend. I can’t believe it. What’s she like?’

  ‘She’s . . . she’s . . .’ Tarwin’s expression hardened. ‘She’s none of your business.’

  ‘I only asked. No need to bite my head off. What’s her name?’

  ‘Monique. And that’s all I’m going to tell you.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake! I only wanted to . . . to . . .’ Gemma stopped abruptly. She only wanted to what? To get to know her brother. Gemma realised in that moment that the accusation she’d flung at her dad, that he knew nothing about her, applied here too. She knew absolutely nothing about Tarwin either.

  ‘So where did you meet Monique then?’

  ‘At a party. Next question?’

  ‘How come you’ve never brought her here?’ At Tarwin’s raised eyebrows, Gemma had to smile. ‘You’re right, it was a stupid question. So are you two a serious item then, or what?’

  Tarwin immediately became watchful. ‘I’d say so – yes.’

  A sudden thought occurred to Gemma. ‘Is that why you’re in such a hurry to get a job and a place of your own, so that you two can be together?’

  One look at Tarwin’s expression of stunned amazement and Gemma had her answer. She said, ‘Oh, I get it now. Is Monique going to leave school too?’

  ‘She was, but not any more,’ Tarwin answered carefully.

  ‘Are you still going to leave school?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it, but there’s no rush now.’ Tarwin shrugged.

  And that was when the penny dropped, and then some!

  ‘Was there a rush before?’ asked Gemma, nonchalantly.

  Tarwin’s lips immediately clamped together.

  ‘Was she pregnant?’ said Gemma.

  At first, Gemma thought that Tarwin wasn’t going to answer. ‘For a while we thought she might be, but then it turned out that she wasn’t.’

  Silence. Gemma looked at her brother, unsure of what to say. ‘I bet that was a relief.’

  ‘No. It wasn’t actually,’ Tarwin said quietly. ‘Not for me anyway.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s a shame. I would’ve enjoyed being an auntie.’ Gemma smiled. Tarwin smiled back. This was the first real conversation Gemma could remember having with her brother in a long, long time – and she was loving it! ‘So am I going to get to meet her?’

  ‘One day,’ Tarwin said vaguely.

  ‘Maybe we could all go out for a meal somewhere,’ Gemma suggested.

  ‘You expect me to drag around with a little kid like you? Are you nuts?’ Tarwin scoffed.

  Gemma glared at him. ‘Thanks a lot. What does this Monique see in you anyway? Desperate, is she? Or don’t her eyes work?’

  Tarwin stood up. ‘Gemma, get lost.’

  Don’t spoil it, Gemma. Stop being stupid. Shut up.

  But her mouth was ignoring the messages sent from her brain. ‘It won’t be long now!’

  ‘What won’t be long now?’ Tarwin frowned.

  ‘Until Monique realises what a fool she’s making of herself by going out with a total loser like you. And then she’ll dump you so fast, you’ll develop a permanent pear shape!’ Gemma forced a laugh.

  Tarwin took a step forward. Gemma took a step back.

  ‘Out! Now!’ Tarwin bellowed.

  Gemma ran from the room. Her smile vanished as she closed the bedroom door. What was it about her? Why was it that every time she wanted to talk to someone, to try to get close to someone, all she had to do was open her mouth to push them away? Why was it that every time she opened her mouth, something stupid fell out? Couldn’t she do anything but lash out?

  Gemma turned and opened her brother’s door again. ‘Sorry, Tarwin. I didn’t mean it. I was just being mean.’

  Tarwin didn’t bother to turn around. He carried on writing. ‘Gemma, I said get lost.’

  ‘I said sorry,’ Gemma tried. ‘And I won’t tell anyone – I promise.’

  Tarwin turned, his expression cold as ice. ‘And I said, don’t slam the door on your way out.’

  Gemma left, shutting the door quietly as directed. She leaned against it, wondering as she so often wondered, just what was the matter with her.

  28

  Mike

  Dreaming

  Shouting. Mike’s father was shouting. His face was contorted with rage. Mike saw his dad clench his fists. He knew what was going to happen next. Mike stepped forward, his arms outstretched. And then, without warning, all the fireworks in the house went off and Mike could do nothing but watch the rockets fly around. He’d duck and jump and dive for cover but the rockets were everywhere. Then a rocket was heading straight for him, and Mike knew he had no time to get out of the way. It was going to hit him and explode.

  Terrified, he sat bolt upright in his darkened room. Sweat trickled down into his eyes. He wiped his forehead and waited for his lungs to fill with air. He didn’t bother to cross the room and switch on his light. There was no point. Besides, Nan had ears like a bat. If he switched on the light, she was sure to hear it and she’d be in his room before he could even get back in bed, asking him if everything was all right. As if anything could ever be all right again.

  Mike lay back down and stared into the dark. His thoughts turned to his mum. He wondered what she was doing. Was she asleep or awake? Was she thinking of him or his dad?

  And after what Mike had done to her, who did she hate the most? With a faint groan, Mike turned to lie on his side.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I’m so sorry.’ He mouthed the words into the darkness.

  His life was all secrets. And lies. But he wasn’t paying for the lies, his mum was. And the worst thing of all was that Mike was letting her.

  29

  Gemma

  Saturday Night

  Gemma was alone in the house. Dad was out. So was Tarwin. She should’ve been glad. She should’ve been ecstatic. She had the whole house to herself. But Gemma felt like a pea rattling around all by itself in a tin can. Again and again she found herself thinking of Robyn and her party. They were all there now – the rest of her class – having the time of their lives. Great music, excellent food and non-stop laughter. Gemma just had to close her eyes to be there. But when she opened her eyes, she was always back in her own dark, dismal house by herself. The silence around her seemed to be mocking her. It was horrible.

  When at last she could stand it no longer, Gemma grabbed her coat and slammed out of the house. It was only when she got to her gate that she slowed down.

  She had nowhere to go.

  Gemma fished her front door keys out of her pocket. Turning slowly, she went back indoors. The whole class was at Robyn’s house. Everyone except her – and Mike. And if she hadn’t said anything, Mike would’ve been there with the rest of them. He’d been at school for five minutes and he belonged. Robyn wanted him at her party. Nobody wanted Gemma. She pulled off her jacket and hung it back up on the peg.

  At least two of them in the class weren’t at Robyn’s party – the most popular boy in the class and the least popular girl. Th
ere! She and Mike had something in common after all. They both had popular in their titles.

  The more she thought about Mike, the more her insides twisted into knots. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Why was he so popular? Why was she so despised? She hadn’t said anything or done anything to deserve the way they were all treating her. It was all Mike’s fault. As the new boy, he could’ve stood up for her if he’d wanted to. He’d spoken to her about his mum – he hadn’t done that with anyone else. Why had he confided in her if she couldn’t be trusted? Why had he told her about his feelings if Gemma was nothing? If Mike was worth inviting to a party, why wasn’t she?

  Well, he wasn’t at the party and it was because of her. At least as far as Mike was concerned, Gemma wasn’t invisible. And she was going to make sure it stayed that way.

  30

  Mike

  Not That Much

  The moment the lunchtime buzzer sounded, the whole class sprang up. An eruption of chatter and laughter filled the room, as did the sound of chairs being scraped across the floor and heavy bags being banged down on tables.

  ‘Er . . . Did I say I’d finished?’ Butterworth yelled above the noise.

  The class quietened down.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Mr Butterworth said with sarcasm. ‘I forgot to give you your homework.’

  At the collective groan that went up, Mr Butterworth smiled. ‘Yes, I know. And if you don’t do it, it’ll hurt you a lot more than it will hurt me. Exercises forty-seven and forty-eight in your workbooks – and no excuses.’

  Mr Butterworth left the classroom first, followed by everyone else. The noise emptied out of the room like water pouring out of a bottle.

  ‘Mike, can I borrow five pounds?’

  The words were said so softly, Mike almost thought he’d imagined them. He turned his head. Gemma was there behind him, watching him intently. They were the last two. Everyone else was heading out of the door.