BEX
If you tell someone not to do something it’s obvious they’ll want do it all the more. I remember I learned this for myself when I was young. I don’t know how old I was, probably only seven or eight. I recall it in a series of fragments, not like a normal narrative of beginning, middle and end. The reasoning of cause and effect came later as my brain began the desperate task of piecing it all together.
It was a Sunday afternoon. Dad was in one of his black moods. Mum had been drinking from the bottle in the fridge and was looking out of the front windows. She had gone quiet but whenever she did manage to say anything she slurred her words and her eyes looked all dull and glassy. I wanted to get outside. A new family had moved into the house across the close and they had a little girl who had smiled at me the other day, and I wanted to play with her.
‘Mum, can I go outside and play?’ I asked.
She looked down at me as she tried to focus. ‘O-of course you can … but don’t …’
I knew what she meant: don’t go too far from the house. ‘I won’t,’ I promised.
Dad cast me a sour look. ‘Don’t you be going anywhere near that new family.’
I didn’t understand. ‘Why?’
Dad struggled to find the words. ‘They’re … he … they can’t be trusted,’ he said as he cast a glance towards Mum.
‘Just pl-play on your bike,’ Mum managed to say, stumbling her way towards the armchair. ‘I’ll just have a little rest. Sunday lunch always …’
Dad looked cross at Mum, like he wanted to hurt her.
I made for the door.
‘And Becky, remember what I said,’ snarled Dad. ‘Stay away from that family.’
I skipped outside, pleased to be out in the fresh air, and jumped on my bike, which was sitting on the drive. I pedalled up and down the cul-de-sac, letting the wind blow through my hair, imagining that I was flying through the clouds. I looked down on the little box-like houses, the tiny patches of gardens. I was escaping for a big adventure. I was going to a place where I didn’t feel the necklace of fear tightening its grip around my throat. I cycled faster and faster, faster than I had ever done before, my feet spinning around the wheels like pistons. It was then that I saw Bella, the sweet little West Highland White Terrier belonging to Mr and Mrs Hastings. Had it got out again? I looked over to see if I could spot its owners – I didn’t want it to run away again – but in that split second, in that moment when I glanced over, I took my eyes off the handlebars. I felt the bike drop beneath me, heard a terrible grinding sound, and then I knew I was flying through the air for real. I stretched out my hands to break the fall, but came crashing down onto the pavement. The shock of it all winded me into silence. It was only when I looked up to see a girl standing above me that I started to cry.
‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Don’t cry.’
She bent down and reached out to comfort me. I blinked through my tears and realised it was the girl who had just moved into the street.
‘Are you hurt?’
The palms of my hands were stinging. My knees were bleeding a little. My mouth was wetter than normal and tasted funny.
She pulled out a tissue from her pocket and gave it to me. Instead of wiping away my tears, I used it to mop up the blood on my knees, clamping my mouth shut in an effort to control the pain. There was something about the colour of the blood, standing so bright against the white of the tissue, that fascinated me. I watched as the blood seeped through until it had stained the whole tissue red.
‘You were going really fast,’ she said. ‘The fastest I’ve ever seen, faster than any boy. What’s your name?’
‘Becky,’ I said.
‘I’m Alice. Alice Jarvis. I’ve just moved in. This is my house here.’ She pointed to a house that looked exactly like ours. ‘Do you want to come inside? My mum could put a plaster on your knees.’
I nodded and she helped me get up. Suddenly I felt sick, but didn’t want to do it near Alice. I stumbled away from her, towards the kerb. My bike was lying at an awkward angle, its front wheel twisted, its frame scratched. I opened my mouth to vomit, but nothing came out apart from spit and blood – I realised I must have bitten my tongue.
‘Sorry,’ I mumbled.
‘It’s all right, I’ll make you a nice cold drink and you’ll feel better in no time,’ said Alice, in what sounded like an imitation of what her mum would say to her. ‘Come on.’
She picked up my bike and, after making sure that the Westie was okay, I trailed behind her into her house. Although it looked the same from the outside, as soon as I stepped inside I realised that everything about Alice’s home was different to mine. It was neater, cleaner, calmer. Even though I’d just fallen off my bike and my hands and knees still smarted, I felt happier here. Alice called for her mum and told her what had happened. The first thing I noticed as the lady swooped down on me with a first aid kit was that she smelt nice, like fresh flowers. She got a bowl of warm water and some soap and bathed my wounds. She had a kind smile and a nice, soothing voice.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked as she applied a plaster to my knee.
‘She’s called Becky,’ answered Alice for me.
‘Do you live on the close?’
I nodded.
‘Which number?’
I didn’t want to tell her because for the first time, and without quite knowing why, I felt ashamed of where I lived.
‘What’s your dad do?’ asked Alice.
‘He paints people’s houses.’
‘My dad works in an office!’ she boasted. ‘Mum, can Becky stay for tea? I could show her my room and my toys. And then there’s Digby, she’d love Digby.’
‘He’s the family guinea pig,’ explained Becky’s mum.
‘Can she, Mum? She can, can’t she?’
‘Of course, just as long as Becky’s mum and dad are okay with that.’
Dad. I remembered what he said, what he warned me against. But the family seemed lovely.
‘I can ask them, but I’m sure they’d think that was fine,’ I lied.
Alice could hardly contain herself and started to talk quickly about how pleased she was that she’d found a new friend, how worried she’d been about moving, how much she’d loved her old house, how hard Digby had found it all. I told them that I’d go and ask Mum and Dad and be right back. I walked over to my house, but I knew I wasn’t going to go inside. I peered through the window. Mum was still sitting in her chair, asleep. Dad was drinking from a can and watching the telly. I counted to ten once, twice, three times. Then I ran back to Alice’s house. There, I lost myself in a daze of happiness: playing with dolls, making a den, talking to the long-haired guinea pig, trying to squeal like Digby, eating cake and drinking lemonade. It was nearly four o’clock when the front door opened and a tall man with dark wavy hair walked into the house. I felt my tummy jump. I didn’t think that I had ever seen anyone more handsome.
‘Daddy!’ shouted Alice, running into his arms.
He was all smiles and cuddles as Alice tried to explain the presence of a new girl in the house. Becky was simply her best friend in the world. She nearly died when she fell off her bike, but she made a miraculous recovery after Mummy tended to her injuries. And she was going to stay for tea. Just then there was a knock at the door. I felt something die inside me, which I later realised was hope. Again the knock, louder, more violent.
‘I wonder who that could be?’ asked Alice’s mum, as she came in from the kitchen.
I knew who it was. I didn’t want a scene. I would do anything to stop him from … ‘I think it might be my …’ I said, jumping up to try to answer the door.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Alice’s dad, Mr Jarvis. ‘Don’t worry. There’s nothing to be scared about.’
For a moment I really believed him. But then as he opened the door my fear returned. It was Dad. His face was red and full of fury.
‘So there you are,’ he bellowed as he pushed his way into the house.
‘Excuse me?’ said Mr Jarvis. ‘I don’t know—’
‘Get out of my fucking way.’
I felt his fat hand grab the skin on the back of my neck. He pushed me towards him and told me he was taking me home.
Mr Jarvis started to speak, ‘I don’t think that’s called for—’
But he was cut off by Dad. ‘I think you should stay away from me and my family, don’t you?’ He looked down at me. ‘It looks like you’ve done enough damage already.’
Now it was Alice’s mum’s turn to try to calm down Dad. ‘But Becky fell off her bike. She said she’d checked with you and that it was okay to have her tea here.’
I started to blush. Alice began to cry.
‘Did she now?’
Dad grabbed my arm so tightly it hurt. But I knew better than to say anything.
‘Look – you’re upsetting everyone here,’ said Mr Jarvis. ‘My daughter, your daughter. I don’t think it’s the best way to—’
Dad took a step towards the man and squared up to him. ‘Best way to do what?’
Mr Jarvis raised his hands towards his face in a gesture of defeat. ‘Mate, listen, I’m just—’
Dad’s eyes were like two ball bearings, hard and steely.
‘Why don’t we all try to stay calm?’ said Mrs Jarvis. ‘I’m sure we don’t want to cause any trouble, do we Alan?’ She looked at her husband and then my dad.
The men continued to stare at one another, before Dad mumbled something under his breath and pushed me towards the door. Before I left I cast one last look at Alice, whose face was wet with tears. Outside, I bent down to grab my bike and ran with it back to the house. I heard the slam of the door, the anger in my dad’s voice. I smelt fear in the air.
I knew what was coming next.