Checkmate (25 page)

'Just where d'you think you're going?'

A Cross man, the size of a haystack and with the personality of a rabid Doberman, stopped me several metres away from Grandad Kamal's house. I felt so strange. I was actually going to meet my grandfather. I couldn't wait.

'I asked you a question.' The Cross man frowned.

'I've come to see my grandad, Kamal Hadley. I'm Callie Rose Hadley.' I held out my hand but the Doberman ignored it.

He looked me up and down and then got out a mobile phone. Two key presses later and he turned slightly away from me. His eyes were still on me but his attention was on the phone and his conversation.

'I've got a girl out here claiming to be Mr Hadley's granddaughter. She says her name is Sally Hadley.'

'Callie Hadley,' I corrected. 'Callie Rose Hadley.'

Look, Dad. I'm going to meet my grandad. My heart is skipping. This is one of the best days of my life. Look, Dad . . .

The man turned even further away from me.

'Yes . . . yes, that's right.' The man looked up and down the exclusive street. 'No, there's no one else with her.'

'How did you get here?' the man asked me.

'A train and a bus and then I walked.'

'Did anyone come with you?'

'No.'

The man repeated our conversation into the phone.

'Do you have some ID?'

I had to think about that one. 'I've got my school library card
–
and my bus pass.'

The man listened to someone at the other end of the phone for quite a few seconds. Then he flipped his phone shut and glared down at me.

'Come with me,' he said.

And if I'd wanted to argue with him, his tone would've discouraged me. We walked along the driveway, paved with precision tessellations. Mr Carlos, my maths teacher, would've been proud. The front door was already open. A tall Cross woman stood in the doorway. She wore a cream dress with purple flowers printed on it and matching cream shoes with a purple trim. Her clothes were stylish and expensive, I think, just like Nana Jasmine's. In fact she reminded me a lot of Nana Jasmine, except this woman was a younger version. Her braided hair was swept up in a careless bun and tied up with a cream ribbon.

'Can I help you?' the woman asked when I reached her door.

'I've come to see my grandad. I'm Callie Rose Hadley,' I told her. I wondered how many people I'd have to repeat that to before I got to see my grandad. The woman looked me up and down.

'How is your mum?'

'She's fine,' I smiled.

'Wait there,' said the woman and she lightly stepped across the vast marble hallway to one of the rooms beyond.

My heartbeat was loud and heavy, like a grandfather clock chiming the hour. I glanced up at the security guard, who was still eyeing me. Why was he looking at me with so much suspicion? Maybe he didn't believe I was who I said. The woman reappeared, her head down as if she didn't want to look me in the eye.

'I'm afraid my husband can't see you,' said the woman. Her tone didn't hold an apology but her eyes did.

'Why not?'

Before the woman could answer, a man past middle age appeared from one of the downstairs rooms. He marched over to the woman, his expression set.

'Are you my grandfather?' I asked.

I drank him in, sure it was him. He was taller than I expected and his hair was darker than I'd expected. I thought he'd have streaks of grey all over his head but his hair was jet-black. Maybe he dyed it? Nana Jasmine has streaks of silver all over her head and if this was my grandad, he was a lot older than Nana. He was still quite good looking, though his face was a bit stern. He wore sweat pants and a old T-shirt but he wasn't perspiring or anything so I reckoned he was probably about to go for a run.

The man looked me in the eyes and said, 'You need to go home before your family wonder where you are.'

'You don't understand,' I tried to explain. 'Are you Kamal Hadley?'

The man didn't reply, but he didn't have to. I'd seen him on the TV news more than once. Mind you, I used to just watch him, I never bothered to listen very closely. He was always talking about boring political stuff.

'I'm Callie Rose, your granddaughter,' I grinned. 'I've come to see you. I'm so happy to finally meet you.'

The man looked me up and down, but there wasn't a trace of a smile on his face. Not even a hint. As he looked at my face, his eyes narrowed into a frown.

'I don't have a granddaughter called Callie Rose,' he said coldly. 'Go home.'

'But—' Now I was the one who didn't understand. 'I'm Sephy's daughter.'

'You've made a mistake coming here. I don't have a daughter called Sephy,' said Grandad. 'Max, could you escort this girl off the premises.'

'Kamal, I really think—' began the woman next to him.

'I don't want to hear it, Grace,' Grandad snapped at her. He turned back to me. 'And as for you, don't come here again.'

And very slowly but firmly he closed the black gloss-painted door in my face. I stood stock still, trying to sort out my frantic thoughts. Maybe Grandad didn't understand what I was telling him? He obviously didn't realize that I was his granddaughter. But how could he not understand? I'd said it as plain as I could.

'Come on,' said Max gently. 'You need to go home now. D'you want me to. organize a lift home, or phone for someone to come and pick you up?'

I slowly turned away from the closed front door and stared at Max. He looked so sorry for me that in that moment, I knew I wasn't dreaming. Grandad didn't want me. He didn't want to know me.

But to close the door in my face . . .

'Do you want—?' Max began again.

I shook my head. 'No, thank you.'

'I'm sorry,' said Max.

I took one last look at Grandad's house and went back the way I came. But halfway along the road, I had to stop because I couldn't see where I was going. I wiped the tears from my eyes and carried on down the road and round the corner to Uncle Jude.

There it was again, that strange, muffled noise coming from Callie Rose's bedroom. I knocked on the door and entered immediately.

'Callie,' I whispered. 'Are you OK?'

No answer. But the light from the landing was enough for me to see that Callie wasn't asleep. Her body was held too rigidly under the covers for that. I walked softly towards her bed.

'Callie?'

I could just see the top of her head peeking out from beneath the duvet. Her head was tilted away from mine slightly but as I watched, a tear ran across the bridge of her nose and down towards the pillow.

'Callie, what's wrong?' I asked.

The pretence over, Callie turned her face towards me. And even in the half-light of the bedroom I could see that she'd been crying for quite some time. I sat down, feeling my way so that I didn't sit on her.

'What's wrong, angel?'

'I . . . I went to see Grandad today . . .' Callie Rose whispered.

No . . . Please, no.

I stared at her. 'Why did you do that?'

'He hates me,' said Callie.

I shook my head. 'He doesn't.'

'Mum, he hates me. He told me not to come back and slammed the door in my face.'

My blood began to bubble inside me, hot and hotter. My teeth were clamped together so hard they instantly began to hurt. I was shaking, actually shaking. I took a deep breath, then another to stop myself from trembling with a rage I hadn't felt since I was a teenager.

'He slammed the door in your face?'

Callie nodded, her tears running faster. She struggled to sit up.

'Why does he hate me? What've I done?'

'Nothing, Callie Rose. Your grandad is angry with me and he's taking it out on you.'

'Why is he angry with you?'

I shook my head. No way did I want to go into that now. I wanted to tuck Callie into bed and watch over her until she fell asleep and then jump in my car and go and see my dad – and rip his heart out. God knows that was what he was doing to mine. How dare he treat my daughter like that?
How dare he?

'Callie, your Grandad and I quarrelled a long time ago and we haven't spoken since.'

'What did you quarrel about? Was it about you and Dad?'

'Yes, dear.'

'Didn't he want you to be with my dad?'

I shook my head.

'Because Dad worked as a gardener at Grandad's house?'

Sephy, tell her the truth. Now's your chance to share your past, to share something real with your daughter. Tell her . . .

'Yes, love. Because your dad was a gardener at Nana Jasmine's house.'

'Did Grandad like Dad when you were both at Heathcroft High?' said Callie.

'My dad didn't really know Callum. And Callum didn't stay at school for very long. And after that he . . . he . . .'

Tell her the truth . . .

'He became a gardener,' I finished, despising my own weakness.

'What's wrong with that?' asked Callie.

I sighed. 'Your grandad is a politician. He didn't like the idea of me and Callum together partly because he thought it wouldn't look good for him in government.'

'Because Dad was a Nought?'

'Yes, dear.'

'That's what Unc—'

'Pardon?'

'It doesn't matter. You know the way Grandad felt about you and my dad, is that like Nana Meggie not wanting me to hang around with Tobey?'

I couldn't answer that.

'Is Grandad upset because you didn't marry my dad?' asked Callie.

'No. Marrying Callum wouldn't've made any difference to your grandad.'

'So he's just a snob.'

Amongst other things.

'Is Nana Meggie a snob too?' Callie asked.

'Your Nana Meggie wants what's best for you.' I had to pick through the words before presenting them to my daughter. 'Your grandad was only interested in what was best for himself

'Well, I hate him,' said Callie vehemently.

'Callie Rose—'

'I do, Mum. I hate him. And I'll never forget the way he treated me. Never, ever.'

'Darling, don't let him poison—'

'Goodnight, Mum.' Callie slid down in her bed and turned her back on me.

What should I do now? It wasn't too late to tell her some of the truth. Maybe not all of it but some of it. But with each second, the opportunity slipped further away from me. I stood up and bent to kiss Callie's cheek.

'Goodnight, love.'

'Goodnight, Mum,' said Callie.

The tears had stopped but that was no comfort. Callie was staring wide-eyed at the wall.

'Callie

'Goodnight, Mum,' Callie repeated.

With a sigh, I took the hint and left her in peace. But I wasn't going to leave it there. Shutting Callie's door quietly behind me, I leaned against it. I needed to make a couple of phone calls. The first one would be to my sister, Minerva, to get my dad's address and phone number.

No way was he going to get away with this one. No way.

I hated winter. Dark and damp and too damned cold. And the rain was pitching down outside, which didn't help. I watched as Callie picked at her chocolate ice cream. For the last few months, we had met up at least every six weeks after school. And I usually brought her here to the Cuckoo's Egg café in the Dundale Centre for a quick meal or an ice cream. It had become our ritual, a place where I could drip-feed Callie the realities of life. And the Cuckoo's Egg café was ironically appropriate.

'What's wrong, Callie?' I asked.

I knew damn well what was going on in Callie's head. I can read her like a picture book. Kamal Hadley had slammed the door in Callie's face almost half a year ago, but she still felt it as keenly as if it were a mere half an hour before. Sometimes she'd be talking or laughing or joking and then the memory would come slashing back.
And then her ready smile would die and she'd get a hurt, haunted look on her face that was easy to recognize because I used to see it on my own face so many times as a child. But that was before I took the power the Crosses had to hurt me away from them and back into my own hands. I told myself, Why should you care what any of them thinks? The Crosses mean nothing to you. After that I was free.

'What is it about me, Uncle Jude?' said Callie, her voice soft with sadness. 'Why can't I get anyone to . . . to like me?'

'Is that true?' I asked.

'My grandad hates me and Mum can't bear to be around me.'

Take it slow, Jude. Don't blow it.

'I don't know about your mum, but I remember Kamal Hadley as being a very rigid, blinkered man. He's a man who's not prepared to tolerate any other view but his own. He doesn't like Noughts and with you being half-Nought . . .' I shrugged, leaving the rest deliberately unsaid. 'But Callie, remember this, he only has the power to hurt you if you give him that power.'

'But I can't help being half-Nought. Any more than I can help being half-Cross,' said Callie. 'Isn't anyone ever going to like me just for me? Even Nana Meggie never—'

'Hello, Jude.'

My head snapped up. Mum stood beside our table, her expression rigid.

'Hello, Mum.'

'Nana Meggie!' said Callie. 'What're you doing here?'

'Meeting a friend for coffee and finding you, Callie,' said my mum.

And although she was talking to Callie, she was looking straight at me. So it'd come at last. I suppose it was inevitable. But Mum was too late on one score at least. Callie Rose trusted me to tell her what no one else would.

'Callie, go and wait for me outside.'

'But Nana—'

'Callie Rose, outside. NOW!'

Mum shouting like that made Callie jump. It was obviously something which just didn't happen, from Callie's stunned response. And we were attracting attention, the very last thing I could afford.

'Go on, Callie. It's OK.' I smiled.

Callie stood up reluctantly. 'I'll phone you, Uncle. OK?'

'You do that,' I agreed.

My mum and I both watched Callie leave the café. Mum ensured Callie was out of earshot before she sat down, though poised for flight, on the chair Callie had just vacated.

'How long have you been meeting up with my granddaughter?'

A lie? The truth? 'A few months

Mum inhaled sharply. 'Jude, what've you been doing?'

'Nothing, Mum. I've just been getting to know Callum's child. That's what you've wanted all these years, isn't it?'

'Don't play games with me, Jude,' Mum said quietly.

I smiled. 'What're you panicking about? I knew you and . . . Sephy would have . . . reservations about my meeting my niece and I wanted to get to know her. That's why I had to go behind your backs.'

'So it's our fault?'

'That's not what I said.'

'And what have you been telling Callie in all the months you've been seeing her?'

'I didn't keep a diary, Mum.'

'Jude, I want a straight answer. What've you been up to all this time?'

'Mum, what d'you think I've been doing?' I asked, exasperated. 'What's going on in that suspicious mind of yours? Maybe you've been living with a Cross too long if it makes you suspicious of your own flesh and blood.'

'So it's like that,' said Mum quietly.

'It's like what, Mum?' I said, not even trying to hide my irritation.

'If you're not up to anything, why the big secret?'

'Because I knew this was exactly how you'd react. I can't go blabbing about my whereabouts to everyone, you know that. And I just wanted to get to know my niece a little better.'

'So you encouraged her to lie to her mum and me about meeting you?'

'I didn't tell her to lie. I just told her not to volunteer the information.' This conversation was getting on my nerves. 'What's the big deal, Mum? After all, d'you tell Sephy about all your meetings with me?'

Mum's face flushed red. My point was made.

'So what's the harm if Callie does the same. You can keep a secret? Well, so can she.'

Mum shook her head. 'Jude, I know you—'

'You don't know a damned thing about me,' I flared up. 'And you stopped caring when your granddaughter was born.'

'That's not true. And you still haven't answered my question,' said Mum.

'I haven't said, done or shown anything to Callie that she wouldn't've found out for herself eventually,' I said.

Mum regarded me. 'Jude, why are you doing this? I can't believe all this is just—?' She broke off abruptly to stare at me, realization radiating from her. 'It was you . . .
You're
the one who took Callie to see Kamal.'

'I was just trying to help. I thought it was time for Callie to meet her grandfather.'

'How could you?' Mum breathed, appalled.

'Did I know the bastard would slam the door in her face? Did I know that would happen?'

'You knew exactly what would happen,' said Mum stonily. 'In fact, I bet that's what you were counting on.'

'Mum, you're giving me way too much credit.'

Careful, Jude. Careful. She's your mum. She knows things about you, she can guess things about you. You can't let her know for sure . . .

Mum shook her head and stood up. 'Jude, you're to stay away from Callie. D'you hear me?'

'Don't you trust me, Mum?'

Mum's eyes narrowed, almost in pain. 'Stay away from her, Jude. I'm not going to tell you again.'

And she walked away from me without a backwards glance. The weird thing was that deep down inside, I felt . . . nothing. No pain, no sorrow, no elation, no satisfaction. Nothing. Just a hollow, echoing emptiness where no emotions would ever take root again. And there was nothing inside me to even feel glad about it.