Caramel Hearts (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I Have to Tell You Something… It's Long Overdue

Over the next week, nothing changes. At school, I creep around with my head down. People give me funny looks and fire quizzical glances at each other when Sarah chooses to sit with Valerie Jeckyll instead of me. I bring soggy sandwiches for lunch so I can avoid the dinner hall, and Mr Vaughn is my permanent partner in Art class. I feel guilty every time I see Jack's chair sitting empty in class, and I spend my time running from one lesson to another via weird and wonderful routes, to try and avoid everyone – particularly Mad Dog. At home, I skulk about, avoiding my family, while Hatty and Mam hang out together. The way they chat endlessly and snuggle on the sofa all the time makes me sick. Who are they trying to kid, after all that's happened? It's like they've forgotten I even exist. Well, if they don't care about me, I'm not about to start playing happy families. I'm no longer dreading Harriet's departure. In fact, I can't wait to get rid of her.

A few days before Hatty is due to leave, Mam calls us all together.

“It's been a difficult time for all of us, and I want to thank both of you for making it much easier than I expected,” she says.

Harriet pats Mam's leg. I glare at her with disgust.

“Harriet's done such a wonderful job while I've been away, but I'm happy to say that she'll soon be heading back to uni – where she belongs. Before she goes, I've got something I want to tell you girls.”

Looking from Mam to each other, we both stiffen.

“Is it bad news?” asks Harriet, her voice barely audible.

“No. But it's important. You'd better sit down.”

I go to get a drink of water first. My favourite glass is dirty, so I reach under the sink for washing-up liquid. I stop dead. There are six bottles of whiskey sitting there in the cupboard. She's not even attempting to hide them.

“Mam, what are these?” I say.

“Just a few bottles to test my strength,” says Mam. “What better way to know I'm on the mend than by resisting temptation?”

I drain the water, then lower myself into the armchair. Instead of sitting on the sofa with Mam, Harriet perches herself on the chair arm next to me. Mam fiddles with her fingers, visibly shaking. She lights a cigarette, blows the smoke high into the air, then clears her throat.

“It's about… it's your dad,” she begins.

“Is he coming home?” I ask.

“Is he dead?” asks Harriet.

Mam shakes her head slowly, takes another drag of her cigarette, then stubs it out – even though there is plenty left. I'm so nervous I feel like grabbing it for a toke, even though I don't smoke.

“No, nothing like that. But I have to tell you something… he's been in contact. I know where he
is, and it's about time you did too.” She catches my eye and smiles awkwardly. Reaching into her pocket, Mam pulls out an old, crumpled letter. She drops it onto the coffee table, then sits back, rubbing her eyes.

Tentatively, Harriet reaches forward and picks up the envelope, easing out its contents with unsteady hands. Then she reads aloud.

My dearest Abigail, without you and the girls, life is flavourless. If ever you change your mind, come back to me. I've bought a house: 43 Crooms Hill Grove, Greenwich. You and the girls will always have a home with me. You are, as always, my life, my love, my Happiness Bloom. xxx

I stare at the letter, gobsmacked. My eyes stretch wide as saucers and my mouth drops open. I try to speak, but it takes a while for the words to come out. When they do, my voice is high pitched and shaky.

“I thought you said he just got in contact?”

“He has.”

“But this letter isn't new – you knew exactly where Dad was all along!”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean—”

“But you told us that you'd no idea where he was!” I continue. “You said he never cared one bit about us, not even enough to make sure we had shoes…”

Instinctively, I jump to my feet, and the rest is a blur – until I'm aware of Harriet grabbing me around the waist, of my arms and legs fighting to get free.

“You made me believe he didn't want anything to do with us – that it was my fault he left!”

“I'm sorry,” says Mam. “But I've been talking this over with my counsellor and—”

I think I'm crying, but I can't be sure – and I can't control it anyway.

“You're a vindictive old maggot,” I shout, wiping my eyes on the back of my forearm.

Mam lowers her head into her hands. My stomach feels like it's ripping in two.

“Calm down, Liv,” Harriet says, but only when she can see I've calmed down a bit anyway. “It's taken a lot for Mam to tell us this. Let's hear her out and work through it together.”

“No way! I'm sick of tiptoeing around her,” I say, finally breaking free. “I've had enough. If she's coming back for good, we'd better start establishing some rules around here. Rules that suit us, not just her. Like: no more worrying about upsetting her, no more worrying about her drinking. This is our home, our life, too!”

Sitting up, eyes bloodshot and puffy, Mam re-lights her misshapen cigarette and takes long, deep drags. She stares at Hatty imploringly. Harriet picks up the letter, takes me by the hand and leads me to the door.

“We'll be back,” she says.

Leaning into each other for support, we leave the room. Behind us, Mam is left chain-smoking.

As soon as we reach Harriet's bedroom, she faces me, staring into my eyes.

“I know you're hurting, but think about it. You've always wanted to meet Dad. Maybe this is your chance?”

“But why did she prevent it, Hatty? What right does she have? Why did she lie?”

Harriet shrugs.

“I don't know, but she's telling us now. Haven't you ever lied to protect someone, Liv?”

To protect myself
,
actually
. I feel my anger shift into something else entirely: shame.

“I don't know what to think,” I say. “I've been waiting for this for ever, but now it's here—”

“It'll be all right,” promises Hatty. “Wash your face and we'll go back down. Hear Mam out. She's been through hell – she deserves a fair ear.”

“What about us?”

“I'm sure if Mam's ready to talk, she'll be prepared to listen.”

Rooted to the spot, I run my fingers through my hair and ruffle the back. I imagine it's Jack's hand, not mine.

“Think about it,” continues Harriet. “We might be able to make contact. You never know – we might get to see Dad.”

Grabbing a notebook, I copy Dad's address, wipe my eyes on my sleeve and give a big sniff.

“What are you waiting for?” I say.

* * *

When we return to the living room, Mam is red eyed on the sofa, dabbing at her nose with toilet paper. As quietly as we can, we listen to her story.

“I wanted to tell you about your dad, take you to him, but it was too painful. And I couldn't cope with you seeing him without me.”

“So we missed out because you're selfish,” I say.

“I'm so sorry – I didn't mean for this to happen. Time just slipped away. The more time passed, the more difficult it was to tell you. Before I knew it, I didn't even know how to broach the subject. I missed him so much. I still do.”

“So why now?” asks Harriet.

“It's the least I can do after what you've been through. I've discussed it with my counsellor… I owe you the truth.”

“You only just realized that?” I say.

But then my thoughts turn to the sweet, hopeful voice of the Happiness Bloom recipes and my anger drops away, replaced by a painful yearning to see my dad. What seemed like devastating news half an hour ago now shines with possibility: finally, I might meet him.

“Why don't you just get back with Dad if you miss him so much?” I ask.

“Nice idea, love,” says Mam, her face downcast. “But those days are long gone. He wasn't always… honest. And he values money much more than people. But you can't always switch off love.”

“It might stop you feeling so lonely,” I say.

“If I'd wanted to go back, I would have done years ago. Walked into The Bear Arms or knocked on his door…” She stops abruptly.

“The Bear Arms?” I'm determined not to miss a trick.

“Max owns it. At least, I think he does. He was buying into the business when we split up. The profits were meant to fund the cake business but…”

I wait for the revelation of Dad's affair but Mam's done talking. I'm so sick of all the secrecy – it's exhausting.

“The profits were meant to fund the cake business, but Dad ran off with Rosa,” I say, finishing the sentence for her.

Harriet's jaw drops open and Mam's hands shake as she stubs out her cigarette.

“That's not nice,” says Mam.

And I'm on my feet again – my body fizzing and my tongue loose.

“You're quite happy to blame me for your breakup, but you can't face the truth. Dad fancied your best friend Rosa and he couldn't stand you or your moods any more.”

“Liv, stop!” cries Harriet, jumping up.

I'm unable to control myself. Carried away on a tide of anger, I push myself into Harriet's face.

“What do you care? You're leaving!”

Harriet's eye go wide with fear and I realize I have my fist raised.

“No wonder I bloody drink,” says Mam, and storms out of the room.

I crumple, burying my face in my hands. Harriet reaches out and puts her arm around me, even though I don't deserve it. The front door slams.

“I'll stay if you want me to,” she says, pain evident in every syllable.

“I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean for Mam – oh god, Hatty. She's only just back! Shall we go after her?”

“No. She's going to have to start dealing with the real world herself.”

Inside, my stomach churns. I know there's no way Harriet can stay, and I can't ask it of her.
I
wouldn't stay if I didn't have to.

That's when the idea hits – the solution to all my problems. I'll take Harriet's advice and meet Dad. Only, I'll go alone. To London. My friends have deserted me and I can't make Mam get better – but I can avoid the fallout if I run away. And when Dad welcomes me with open arms, I'll never have to return to stinking Egerton Park or Egerton Hill ever again. I'll leave it all behind – the bag, my mistakes and my crappy life. I'll start a new one!

Harriet is still looking at me with concern so I decide to play along.

“I'll be all right, Hatty. You go back to uni. I'll be fine. I promise.”

Although I hate the look of relief that spreads over Harriet's face, it's easy to smile. Mam, Harriet, Sarah, Jack – I'll show them all.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

My Words Have Pierced Her Heart

“I wish you'd never been born, Olivia Bloom,” says Mam.

She sways in my bedroom doorway, whiskey bottle in her hand. I try to focus on what my counsellor, Rachel, says – she doesn't mean it, it's the addiction talking – and resist the urge to scream back.

“You're wrong about Rosa – if you hadn't been such a naughty little child, he wouldn't have gone…”

“Shut up!”

“Typical teenager – think you know everything.” Mam's voice is mean and bitter. “But you're in for a shock, young lady. Just you wait and see. Life's nothing but false hearts and broken promises.”

I roll my eyes, thinking she can't see. “Don't I know it?”

“Don't roll your eyes at me!”

I try the relaxation breathing Rachel swears by. It doesn't help.

“When you've lived the life I have…”

In
two three,
out
two three.

“…Seen what I've seen,
then
you can act all high and mighty. But until then…”

In
two three,
out
two three. She doesn't mean it.

“You should be grateful to have a roof over your head and a family. It's more than I ever had.”

I rush at her, no longer able to contain my anger. Snatching the bottle out of Mam's hand, I scream into her face.

“Family? You think this is normal? I'm sick of hearing about how bad your childhood was. Mine's just as crap! Get over it!”

Reeling back, Mam puts her hand to her chest as though my words have pierced her heart. I'm not falling for the drama this time.

“As for the life you've lived, every time you touch this stuff…” I lift the half-empty bottle up high. “We suffer too. You're the mam. Act like one!”

Mam's hazel eyes – the exact same shape and shade as my own – fixate on the bottle. Both of her eyes have a hazy film covering them, and there's a turn in her left one. I hate it so much – any chance of compassion completely disappears.

“Are you listening to me?” I wiggle the bottle in the air. “Do I even exist while this is around?”

Taking a step closer, Mam softens her voice and forces a smile.

“Liv, love, give that to me. You'll make it rancid.”

“No!”

Stepping onto my bed, I hold the whiskey up high, out of Mam's reach. My legs wobble and I almost lose balance. The bottle dangles precariously as I right myself. Mam gasps in panic. It's pathetic.

“Is this all you care about? I thought things were going to be different this time. I actually hoped you might try.”

Jiggling the bottle again, I feel a strange sense of satisfaction as Mam struggles to follow its movements.

“Things'll improve – hand it over. It'll make me feel better in the meantime.”

“You want it? Get it!”

It's not like she'll remember once the drink wears off. Desperate, Mam swipes at the air.

“Come on, love, just one little sip?”

“Get it then! Look – it's just here.”

“I can't reach it, sweetheart.” Mam's voice is soft, but strained – like the final twist of a band securing a ponytail. Let go – just a little – and it'll all come tumbling out. “Give it to me. You owe me! I brought you into this world. I didn't leave you like your dad.”

My knees wobble, threatening to give way. I swallow hard, struggling to keep composure.
In
two three,
out
two three. It's no good. My resolve melts. What's the point in trying to fight? I never win. Lowering my arm, I thrust the bottle into Mam's face.

“Pathetic,” I growl.

Snatching the bottle, Mam guzzles the amber liquid. As a dribble escapes over her chin, Harriet storms into the room. Confiscating the whiskey, she addresses Mam in a careful voice, glancing at me accusingly the whole time.

“Mam, you know that's not allowed.”

Mam starts wailing like a baby. Tears and snot run down her face. Harriet frowns at me and shakes her head, as if to say,
What have you done now?
Ignoring the slight, I wrap my arms tightly around myself and watch as Mam crumples into Harriet's arms.

“See how she treats me? See why I have to drink?”

“We'd better get you into bed,” says Harriet, tugging Mam by the hand and steering her out of the door. “It'll be OK,” she mouths back at me.

But I know better.

I jump back into bed and, tugging the covers over my head, try to zone out by thinking about nice things. Only to find there's nothing nice in my life worth thinking about. It's time to get out of here.