Furious Thing

  For my sister, Tina

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  A Tale of Love and Death

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  A Whole New Me

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  Another Tale of Love and Death

  15

  16

  A Monster in Our Midst

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  A Third Tale of Love and Death (but mostly Death)

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Helpline Information

  Also by Jenny Downham:

  Copyright

  A Tale of Love and Death

  Once there was a girl who grew up wicked. She threw things and slammed things and swore. She was clumsy and rude and had no friends. Her teachers thought her half-witted. Her family despaired.

  ‘Why can’t you be well-behaved and calm like other girls?’ they cried. ‘Why are you so bloody difficult day after day?’

  The girl didn’t know the answer.

  Her family tapped their feet and shook their heads disapprovingly, trying to work her out.

  ‘I’ll change,’ the girl said. ‘I’ll be good from now on, I promise.’

  She wanted it to be true.

  She wanted her family to love her.

  But fury sat in her belly like a vicious snake. And some promises are hard to keep.

  1

  I ran into the garden to hide. I’d been there for over ten minutes and thought I was going to get away with it, when Mum came out of the flat and down the steps. I tried my best to be invisible, but when she walked across the lawn she saw me.

  She said, ‘Get down from the tree and come and apologize right now.’

  ‘Is he angry?’

  ‘We both are.’

  ‘Is he going to ground me?’

  ‘I don’t know. But you can’t speak to people like that and think nothing’s going to happen.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to. The words just fell out.’

  ‘Is that right?’ She held out her hand to tick them off. ‘You hope tonight’s going to be a disaster. You hope the guests get food poisoning. You have no intention of coming to the party and we can all piss off. Those words just fell out of you, did they?’

  I spread my fingers to touch a black-velvet leaf bud. If I was a leaf, nothing would be expected of me.

  Mum said, ‘Pretty hurtful, wouldn’t you say?’

  I peered down through the branches to look at her. She was wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt. She had an apron tied round her waist and her face was flushed. I melted looking at her. I’d promised to help get things ready and all I’d done was cause trouble. ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’

  She smiled wearily up at me. ‘I know you’re disappointed Kass isn’t coming, but you can still have fun without him. Think of all the delicious food and how amazing the garden’s going to look with the lights and everyone dancing.’

  But the only person I wanted to dance with was Kass. I hadn’t seen him since he went back to university after Christmas. That was sixty-five whole days ago.

  Mum said, ‘Come on – down you get. The sooner you apologize to John, the less painful it will be.’

  I climbed down slowly. I hoped I looked graceful.

  ‘I’ve had an idea about tonight,’ she said when I finally stood next to her on the grass. ‘I know you find social events hard and I’m sorry your brother can’t be here.’

  ‘He’s not my brother.’

  ‘You know what I mean. If Kass was here, you’d find everything easier. But he’s not coming, so there we are. So, how about you hand canapés around at the beginning? What do you think? It’ll give you the chance to socialize without pressure.’

  I saw where this was going and felt a pinprick of panic. ‘I can’t speak to people.’

  ‘Having a task might help.’

  What would she do if I turned round and climbed the tree again? Would she grab my ankles? If I scrambled up quickly enough maybe she’d walk back across the lawn and tell John I’d disappeared? They’d have to celebrate their engagement without me. But as moments kept slipping by, it was obvious we weren’t going in that direction. I shoved my hands in my pockets and waited.

  ‘Lex?’ she said, eventually.

  ‘Surely, the whole point of a buffet is that people help themselves?’

  ‘They help themselves to the main course, but it’s usual to offer appetizers as guests arrive.’

  ‘Please don’t make me. Get Iris to do it instead.’

  ‘Iris is a little young.’ She linked her arm with mine and squeezed. ‘This is a fresh start for us. I want you involved.’

  She was excited. I could feel it through her fingers. She’d waited years for John’s divorce to come through, and now she could finally be his wife she didn’t need me messing things up.

  ‘I’ll collect empty glasses if you like. I’ll look after coats.’

  ‘That doesn’t get you mingling, Lex.’

  ‘Honestly, Mum, me walking about with trays of food is going to be a disaster. You know it is.’

  ‘I don’t know anything of the sort.’

  I’d trip over. I’d spill stuff. I’d forget the names of the canapés. ‘What’s this?’ people would ask, pointing at something on my tray, and they’d expect a sensible answer and I’d stand there mumbling rubbish and they’d look at me weirdly and I’d get so mad I’d fling the tray on the grass and stomp off. John’s glossy workmates would discover what he already knew – that I was an idiot with a terrible temper. Someone was bound to ask him, ‘Is this girl anything to do with you?’ And then there’d be that awful disappointed look on his face as he said, ‘Alexandra is going to be my stepdaughter.’

  Mum kissed the top of my head. I don’t know why. Maybe she was wishing me luck or maybe she was letting me know that even though I was a nightmare, she still loved me.

  I said, ‘I’m angry with Kass.’

  Mum nodded. ‘I know.’

  I’d texted him from my bedroom earlier: U AWAKE?

  He took thirty-seven minutes to text back. AM NOW.

  STILL NOT CMING?

  He said no. He said sorry and that he’d make it up to me. I wanted to ask how he planned on doing that, but I didn’t. I switched my phone off instead.

  Mum took my hand as we walked back to the flat. ‘You’ll get used to him being gone one day, Lex.’

  She didn’t get it at all.

  I was eight when I first met Kass and he was nearly eleven. Mum was already pregnant with Iris, so making a new family was a fait accompli, which means you get no choice.

  Kass was told to look after me in the garden while the adults talked. I decided to ignore him. I was eight and didn’t need looking after. Also, it was my garden. I decided if I didn’t speak to him or look at him that he’d go away. But he didn’t. The first thing he did was sit on a step of the fire escape and say, ‘If there really was a fire, these stairs would be useless.’ He pointed out that they led directly into a walled garden from which there was no escape and that once everyone from the flats had collected there, it would be hell – with bits of burning building falling on our heads and no way out.
‘You should get a rope with knots in it,’ he said, ‘and tie it to your bed or the window frame and go out the front.’

  I liked it that he could think about terrible things in such a calm way. I also liked it that he wanted to save me. In Hansel and Gretel, it was the girl who did the saving, but the other way around might be fun.

  ‘My mum’s going to go nuts when she knows I’ve been here,’ he said next. He picked up a handful of gravel from the steps and threw each little stone one by one onto the grass. ‘Your mum’s the other woman. Did you know?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘That’s why my mum’s going to go nuts. She went ballistic when she found out. She thought my dad was busy at work, not going on dates.’

  ‘He’s been seeing my mum for ages,’ I said.

  ‘Exactly,’ Kass said.

  He told me his mum threw his dad out, but she let him back when he promised to change. He said his dad was great at apologies, but they were usually bullshit and he wished his parents would stop being morons.

  ‘Then my mum found out about the baby.’ He looked right at me and something sad in his eyes made my heart leap.

  ‘What did she do?’ I whispered.

  ‘Yelled a lot. Chucked stuff. The funniest thing she threw was a cup of tea at my dad’s head.’

  He laughed, so I laughed too. ‘Did it hit him?’

  ‘He ducked, and it smashed on the wall, but he got soaked anyway.’

  I kept looking in his eyes. ‘What else did she throw?’

  ‘The biggest thing was the TV, which she flung down the stairwell.’

  We cracked up at that. I thought his mum must be very strong, but he told me it was a portable TV, so it wasn’t that impressive. Also, that his mum wanted to get a new one anyway, so it wasn’t much of a loss.

  Kass said, ‘My mum thinks my dad’s got this amazing new life with a new place to live and a new woman and a ready-made daughter.’

  ‘She knows about me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  The idea that the grown-ups had been talking about me, and a total stranger was jealous of my life, made me gloriously happy.

  I showed Kass my special way of climbing the tree and which branch to use to drop down to the wall. He said I clearly already knew what to do if there was a fire and could’ve rescued myself all along. From the top branch, I showed him which flat was mine and we searched the windows looking for my mum or his dad, but the sun was glaring, so we just got bright reflections back. Then we looked at other people’s windows to see if we could see anyone naked, but we couldn’t. We played silly games – the craziest curtains, the most things on a window ledge, the dirtiest glass, the ugliest plant. We agreed on loads. And we laughed a lot. I was ridiculously glad that I could make him laugh.

  But nothing was as good as the moment when he asked about my dad.

  ‘I never met him,’ I said. ‘He dumped my mum when she got pregnant with me.’

  Until then, I hadn’t felt the smallest bit pleased about never having known my dad. But saying it out loud was like giving Kass an important gift.

  He whistled low and long. Then he took my hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Adults really piss me off,’ he said.

  It was like we’d cut our fingers with knives and become bound.

  2

  Inside, the flat was like an advert – full of sunshine and cooking smells. Iris sat at the lounge table with her colouring things, John was in his chair with the Saturday newspapers spread across the carpet at his feet. I wondered if he was going to give me the silent treatment, but he looked up as I walked in. ‘Calmed down?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Sorry I said the things I did. I didn’t mean them. I hope your party is a huge success and I won’t lose my temper ever again.’

  ‘Well, now you just sound sarcastic.’

  He went back to his paper. I breathed easier.

  Iris flicked me a smile. ‘Come and look at my picture.’ She’d drawn a fairy-tale castle made of glass and mirrors, erupting into a blue sky. ‘It’s our new house,’ she said. ‘The one Daddy’s going to build when we’re rich. This is a turret’ – she pointed at the smallest tower – ‘and these are called crenellations.’

  ‘Good girl,’ John said. ‘You want me to teach you a bastion next?’

  ‘No thank you.’ She sucked the end of her pen. ‘I’m going to do direction posters for the party now, so everyone knows to come upstairs for the bathroom.’

  I kissed the top of her head. She smelled of biscuits. ‘That’s sounds a lot of work.’

  She nodded. ‘I have infinite patience.’

  I often doubted we were related. Not just the amount of words she knew for a six-year-old, but how talented she was at everything. Also, she was insanely pretty. It was like she was from a different species. It was John and Mum’s genes mixed together. I was an ogre compared to the rest of them.

  John flapped his paper. ‘Uninhibited,’ he said. ‘Eight letters, second letter is m.’

  I wished more than anything I knew. I wanted to stun him with sudden intelligence.

  ‘I thought it might be “immoral”,’ John said, ‘but that’s not enough letters.’

  Was he really wanting help? I plonked myself on the sofa opposite him. ‘You want me to look it up on my phone?’

  ‘No, because that would be cheating.’ Definitely not wanting help. He tapped his pen on the paper. ‘You know tonight’s smart casual, right?’

  I looked down at my jeans. They had a hole in one knee and mud round both hems. I’d been wearing them yesterday and had dragged them back on this morning.

  ‘I’m planning on wearing a dress.’

  ‘Great. Have I seen it?’

  ‘It’s new. I’ll show you later. Mum’s got jobs for me first.’

  I could hear her out in the kitchen clunking stuff about. John’s colleagues were used to catered parties, but John said he wanted theirs to be authentic, which meant everything home-made.

  I slunk down into the sofa, suddenly full of dread. All those architects from John’s work would be clever and polished like him. I was going to spend the evening feeling such a loser.

  John folded his paper and picked up his cigarettes. ‘Iris, I’m going to smoke. Can you leave the room for ten minutes?’

  ‘But I’m doing something.’

  ‘Take a break and come back.’ He smiled at her. ‘Bedroom or kitchen – your choice.’

  She put down a felt-tip pen and picked up a new colour. ‘I choose to stay.’

  ‘No, sweetheart – I don’t want your lungs full of smoke and tar.’

  She snapped the lid off the pen. ‘I don’t want your lungs full of that either.’

  He laughed. ‘Come on, give me a break here.’

  ‘Smoking’s very bad for you, Daddy.’

  He held his hands up in surrender. ‘All right, you win. How about making me some tea instead?’

  She frowned, suspicious. ‘So you can smoke when I’m gone?’

  He waggled the cigarette at her. ‘I promise if you make some tea and bring me a slice of shortbread, I will never smoke this.’

  She hopped off her chair and held out her hand. ‘Give it to me then.’ He passed it over and she patted his head. ‘Good boy.’

  He was never obedient like that with me. I wish I could make him sit, lie down, beg, come to heel …

  ‘So,’ John said, and I realized too late that he’d sent Iris away on purpose. ‘I understand you pestered Kass about joining us tonight?’

  My heart scudded. ‘He told you that?’

  He pulled a fresh cigarette from the packet and lit it. ‘I believe you told your mother.’

  I knew I was blushing. I sighed as if everything about Kass was boring and slid down the sofa some more. ‘I happened to text him. I happened to mention it.’

  ‘And his answer was …?’

  ‘He’s still busy.’ I checked out my nails.

 
‘And that brought on your tantrum?’ He leaned forward, smoke coiling between us. ‘We talked about this, didn’t we? I don’t want him thinking he has to rush down from Manchester at the drop of a hat.’

  I checked my cuticles, the dry patch on my palm.

  John said, ‘He’s got exams coming up. No one expected him to come tonight and now he feels guilty.’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to make him feel guilty.’

  He frowned. Beat, beat went our hearts.

  ‘What were you trying to make him feel, Alexandra?’

  If I had to sum up, I’d say: a crushing desire to spend the rest of his life with me. But I wasn’t going to admit that out loud. Not until I’d proved to John that I was good enough for his son.

  ‘Give the boy a break,’ John said.

  ‘I thought you’d like him at your party.’

  ‘He’ll be back after exams, OK?’ He gave me a tight smile. ‘Although, if you keep hassling him, he might prefer to stay away.’

  The furious thing inside me came roaring up, but I swallowed it. ‘I’m not hassling him. I’m communicating.’

  ‘Well, communicate less.’

  ‘Yes, John.’ I used my robot voice.

  ‘Now, about tonight. I don’t want any more outbursts, so best behaviour – OK?’

  ‘I’m going to help. I’m going to hand out canapés.’

  ‘Seriously? Is that a good idea?’

  ‘Don’t worry. I won’t drop anything.’

  ‘How about you just keep your temper in check?’ He tapped his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. ‘Be polite, that’s all I ask – be nice to my friends and super-nice to my boss.’

  ‘Why? You after a raise?’

  He laughed. ‘Think you can get that for me?’

  There’s a valley in Norway where the sun hardly ever shines, and the people are shivering and gloomy for half the year. Then, one day, someone had the brilliant idea to put giant mirrors at the top of the mountain to reflect the sun down and they put benches around the town square, so people could sit and lift their faces to the light. Living in the shade makes you afraid to dream of the sun and then, when you feel it at last, it’s thrilling.

  ‘Best behaviour,’ I said. ‘I promise. By the end of the night, you’ll be proud to know me.’