Unfortunately, now that we were leaving, Mum and Dad would never get to see that side of Sam – the side that’s really kind and protective.
I thought back to when I’d first seen it myself. It was soon after our elderly cat Trixie died. I’d made a little wooden cross to mark the spot where Dad had buried her at the far end of our garden. As I sat by her grave one afternoon telling her how much I missed her I heard someone approaching and assumed it was Mum or Bella.
‘Hi, Libby,’ said an unexpected male voice, and I felt myself squirm as I realised Sam must have heard me talking to our dead cat.
‘Oh …’ I stood up abruptly. ‘Hi …’
Bella had only been going out with him for a few weeks and it was the third or fourth time he’d been round to our house. It was before he’d dropped out of his A levels so the only concrete thing Dad had against him at that point was that he’d been suspended from school for a week at the end of Year Eleven for calling our headmaster ‘useless and spineless’. (Dad said that even though it was true, it showed gross stupidity and immaturity to actually call the man that to his face.) There was also the fact that Sam was in the sixth form, whereas Bella was only in Year Ten. Dad has always had a big problem with that, even though the actual age difference is only fourteen months.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Bella said to come and give you this out here so your mum doesn’t see.’ As he spoke he handed me a framed photograph of Trixie. She was lying in her favourite spot in the sun on top of Bella’s bed. I immediately felt tears in my eyes. It was exactly how I wanted to remember her.
‘I gave a copy to Bella too,’ Sam said. ‘I took it the last time I came round.’ He looked a bit self-conscious as he added, ‘Listen, you can’t tell your parents I actually took those photos or they’ll know I was in Bella’s room, OK?’
I nodded. I really wished I could tell Mum and Dad about the photos so they would see for themselves how kind Sam could be. I knew I couldn’t though. Bella had been at home on her own that day and Sam wasn’t meant to have been here at all, let alone in Bella’s bedroom. I knew that Dad would go ballistic if he found out.
‘It’s lovely, Sam. Thank you,’ I murmured. I have to say I was pretty touched that he’d thought of me as well as Bella.
‘That’s OK. I know how bad it is to lose a pet you’ve grown up with.’
‘Has it happened to you?’ I asked softly.
He nodded. ‘I had a cat called Mabel. I got her when she was a kitten. Last year my mum gave her away without even asking me, just because she kept scratching the new carpet.’
‘Oh, Sam … that’s terrible.’ And that’s when I decided I liked him.
A few months later Dad did catch Bella and Sam alone in our house – though thankfully not in her bedroom. It happened one afternoon when Dad came home early from a meeting in town. It was Sam’s half-day and Bella had skipped school so she could hang out with him at our place. Dad was totally furious, especially with Sam. He accused him of being irresponsible and disobedient, and a few other things on top, before shoving him out the door. Later he went round to complain to Sam’s mother, who turned out to be less than helpful. (Apparently she said, ‘He’s not a child. He’s seventeen – the same age I was when I had him. You have a problem with him seeing your girl, then speak to him about it! And maybe you should speak to her at the same time!’)
‘Well, she’s got a point,’ Mum said when Dad reported back to her. ‘He’s not a child. Neither is Bella for that matter.’
‘They’re both still young enough to accept some parental guidance,’ Dad snapped, ‘though I can see that for Sam it’s not exactly abundant!’
‘Poor kid,’ Mum murmured.
For a moment Dad looked like he might be thinking the same, but then his face hardened. ‘We have to think about Bella and what’s best for her,’ he reminded Mum firmly. ‘The sooner she stops seeing him the better.’
I almost spoke up and told them that in my opinion splitting them up wasn’t actually in Bella’s best interests at all. But as usual I kept quiet. I might be good at noticing things that other people don’t, but unfortunately I’m not so good at having the confidence to actually share those things with people – especially when I don’t think they’ll agree with me.
* * *
‘So, girls? How are we feeling?’ Dad asked Bella and me. We were inside the service station waiting for Mum and Grace, who were taking ages in the Ladies. I could tell Dad really wanted to hear that we were feeling OK about moving to live in the country.
‘I’ve never felt so miserable,’ Bella told him flatly.
I waited for Dad to check if I felt the same way, but he didn’t. I don’t think it was because he didn’t care about my feelings. I just think he sometimes finds Bella’s feelings so much to handle that he hasn’t got room to ask me about mine as well.
He looked worried as he launched straight into trying to coax my sister out of her bad mood, the way he’d always done so easily when she was younger.
‘Sweetheart … cheer up … you know this is your chance for a fresh start. And you have to do your GCSEs somewhere. You liked the school when we looked around, didn’t you?’
‘It’s not the school that’s the problem,’ Bella said sharply. ‘It’s everything else. I mean, we don’t know anybody and we’ve absolutely no friends there.’
‘No enemies either,’ I pointed out.
‘Yet,’ she emphasised with feeling.
‘Come on, Bella …’ Dad persisted. ‘We’ll all support each other, and I bet you’ll make friends in no time.’
‘And just think,’ Bella continued doggedly. ‘Instead of seeing Aunt Thecla twice a year, she’ll be living down the road from us. Can you imagine how it’ll be having her constantly commenting on Grace’s table manners and trying to estimate what size feet Libby will end up with and going on and on at me to eat more vegetables …’‘Oh Bella, I’m sure it won’t be that bad.’‘Yes it will. And she’ll be coming to every sports day and school concert, telling everyone she’s our aunt and wanting to know the reason why if we don’t get starring roles. I mean how gruesome is that?’
Dad swallowed and I could tell he was remembering the same incident we all were – the time when Aunt Thecla came to watch my school Nativity play one Christmas and marched up to the teacher at the end, demanding – in her loud, posh voice – to know why I was a shepherd for the second year running. Dad banned her from coming to my school plays after that, even though she did apologise and explain that she found it hard to watch me being ‘overlooked’ (as she saw it) when Bella had been Mary in Reception, Angel Gabriel in Year One and the only king with a speaking part in Year Two. And I remember that in among all the embarrassment I felt quite surprised and pleased that she would stand up for me like that.
‘At least she won’t have to stay with us for the whole week at Christmas any more,’ I pointed out to Bella. ‘Or even overnight.’
‘Thank God,’ Bella said with a snort.
‘For small mercies,’ I added with a grin, because that’s one of our aunt’s favourite sayings.
Dad sighed. ‘You know, despite how difficult your aunt can be at times, you girls are very important to her. Family is everything as far as she’s concerned – and we’re all she’s got. I want you to try and remember that.’
That was rich coming from him, I thought.
‘What about our family?’ Bella demanded. ‘Mum and you and the three of us. Isn’t that important too?’
‘Of course it is.’
‘Because in case you haven’t noticed, the only time you and Mum argue really badly is when Aunt Thecla comes to stay. I just hope moving here doesn’t put too much strain on your marriage, that’s all.’
Dad’s mouth fell open, like it had been doing a lot lately after Bella had spoken. And this time he found himself with absolutely nothing to say in response.