Dead Gorgeous (3 page)

‘Ready, Jude,’ Jake replied.

‘I really,
really
don’t recommend this,’ Mum began.

‘Never mind her. Read it,’ Nova ordered, her eyes ablaze with possibilities.

‘I want nothing to do with this.’ Mum went back to rolling out her pastry.

‘You start, Jake,’ said Jude. ‘We’ll take half each.’

Jake grinned at Nova, then he began, ‘Raye’s poem:

‘Well, that bit is certainly true.’ Jude nodded vigorously as he handed over the sheet of paper to his twin.

‘Give me that.’ Mum snatched the poem from Jude before he could protest. She glanced down at the writing on the page. ‘Oh, dear! Is that really how Raye sees
herself?’

‘What’s she talking about – her bum’s big like a lorry!?’ Nova scoffed. ‘She’s thin as a pin. Any skinnier and I’d be able to pick my teeth with
her.’

‘Why on earth would she think her dad and I are mad?

I’m the sanest person I know!’ said Mum.

‘Mum, you talk to your pastry and Dad is always hanging up peculiar notices for the guests. If that’s not barmy, then what is?’ said Nova.

‘You’re a pain! You’re a pain!’ said Jake to Nova gleefully.

‘And we’re driving her insane,’ said Jude with equal delight. ‘Yes!’

Jude and Jake gave each other a high five as a salute to a job well done.

‘Look, you two,’ said Mum urgently, ‘I don’t want Raye finding out that you snaffled one of her poems, d’you hear? She’s going through enough as it
is.’

‘What’s she going through then?’ Nova asked.

‘She’s a teenager,’ Mum replied. As far as she was concerned that explained everything.

‘I can’t wait to be a teenager if it means I’ll get away with all the stuff Raye does,’ said Nova.

‘You’ve always been stroppy, Nova, so your dad and I have had a lot of practice in dealing with you. Your sister, however, is different.’

‘Thanks a lot!’ Nova stormed.

‘I didn’t mean it like that!’ Mum amended quickly. ‘I just —’

‘What does stroppy mean?’ asked Jude.

‘Awkward, stubborn, difficult – basically a pain in the neck,’ Nova supplied.

‘I just meant —’ said Mum desperately.

‘Save it, Mum!’ Nova flounced over to the fridge. Mum raised her eyes heavenwards.

‘Are we going to be like that when we become teenagers?’ Jake asked hopefully.

‘Yeah, are we?’ added Jude, with equal alacrity.

‘Over my dead body,’ Mum told them at once.

‘How come the girls get to do it and we don’t?’ Jake pouted.

‘Yeah, how come?’ Jude added.

Mum said in a long-suffering voice, ‘Why do I have the sudden urge to bake enough bread to feed every mouth in the country?’ She turned back to Rainbow’s poem, the crease
between her eyebrows deepening.

Jude and Jake grinned at each other. Mum was now softened up nicely!

‘Mum, can we go and play in the attic?’ Jake asked casually.

‘Not in my bedroom,’ Nova said quickly. Half the attic space had been converted into her bedroom and she guarded her space ferociously. The other half was used for storage and
contained old-fashioned trunks and dusty boxes and piles of papers that only Jude and Jake enjoyed going through.

‘Yeah, can we?’ asked Jude.

‘Can you what?’ asked Mum, preoccupied.

‘Play in the attic’

‘OK,’ said Mum.

Stunned, Nova stared at her. Mum’s brain obviously wasn’t switched on. As the twins turned to run out of the room, Mum suddenly realized what she’d been asked. She moved at
greased lightning speed to grab both of them by the arm.

‘Just a minute, you two. No dropping water bombs on the heads of the guests, no dust sheets over your heads and pretending to be ghosts, no strange noises, no banana skins, no itching
powder, no fake dog poo, no real cockroaches, no stink bombs, no worms in any of the beds, no fart alarms, no frogs in any of the baths. NO NONSENSE. Is that understood?’

‘Ma’am, yes, ma’am!’ Jude and Jake saluted in unison. ‘I mean it. If I hear from any of the guests that you two have been up to your usual antics, you’re both
in BIG trouble.’

‘We heard,’ Jake sniffed.

‘No need to go on and on,’ Jude added, dusting the flour off his arm.

They both ran off with Mum eyeing them suspiciously. She directed a worried look at Nova.

‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ Nova said. ‘Between me, Raye, Dad and the other guests, they probably won’t get away with too much. Probably.’

‘That makes me feel a whole heap better,’ Mum replied dryly.

Nova grinned at her.

Dad burst through the door. ‘Karmah, has Mr Jackman deigned to tell you how long he’s staying with us?’ he asked.

‘No, he hasn’t. And as long as we have his credit card details, he can dither as long as he likes,’ Mum replied.

Nova wondered if she had time to slide out, tear down Dad’s latest notice and duck out of sight for an hour or so until he calmed down. It was worth a try. Edging behind him, she started
to sidestep silently towards the door.

‘I’m not happy with guests not letting me know how long they plan to stay. How am I meant to schedule in future bookings if I don’t know when the guests are going to
leave?’ Dad complained, adding without turning round, ‘Nova, for the last time, leave my notice alone. D’you hear?’

‘What future bookings?’ Nova piped up from behind him, peeved.

Mum glared at Nova, her expression piercing. Nova knew exactly what that look meant. They’d been at the hotel for almost two years now and Dad had tried just about everything to make
Phoenix Manor more popular, but nothing really took off. The hotel was set high up on the gently sloping St Bart’s Head, overlooking St Bart’s Bay. To the front of the hotel there were
stunning views across the bay to the sea beyond. The formal gardens behind the hotel merged into Siren’s Copse. Underground tunnels criss-crossed the land for miles around – tunnels
where, centuries before, smugglers were rumoured to have brought silks and brandy ashore from continental Europe, using the secret underground passages to hide from the authorities. There was meant
to be a tunnel entrance hidden in the bay somewhere and another one in Siren’s Copse, but no one had ever found them. In a setting steeped in local history, the hotel should’ve been a
dead certainty for success – but it wasn’t. Business was slow, not to mention a constant worry. And as Mum pointed out, Dad didn’t need his family constantly moaning on and making
him feel like a failure.

‘We do all right, Nova,’ Mum said, an edge to her voice.

‘Yeah, right.’ Nova headed for the fridge. ‘I’m thirsty. Any juice or something fizzy in there?’

‘Nova Alexandra Clibbens, don’t even think about it!’ said Mum as Nova raised the orange juice carton to her lips. ‘Use a glass.’

‘What’s that?’ Dad pointed to the piece of paper, now covered in flour, beside Mum’s pastry.

Mum picked it up. ‘Oh, that’s —’

Raye marched into the room. ‘Mum, I want you to —Is that one of my poems?’

Nova wasn’t surprised that Raye had spotted it. Her sister always did have eyes like a hawk.

‘Yes, but I . . .’ Mum spluttered.

‘Mum, how could you? My poems are private and personal.’ Raye snatched it out of her mother’s hand, directing a look at her that would’ve had a weaker person gasping for
breath. ‘You’re worse than the twins.’

‘So what’s so good about your boobs that you wouldn’t change them?’ Nova couldn’t resist asking.

‘Mum, I can’t believe you! You let Nova read it?’ Raye asked, scandalized.

‘Why d’you want to change your boobs, Rainbow?’ asked Dad, getting hold of entirely the wrong end of the stick. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of plastic surgery or
some other such nonsense at your age.’

‘Leave my boobs out of this,’ Raye said furiously, her beige cheeks now fiery red.

‘Raye wants to have her boobs done,’ Nova sang. ‘I do not!’

‘Raye wants to have her boobs done!’

Raye used sign language to tell Nova exactly where to go and what to do when she got there.

‘Rainbow, that’s quite enough of that,’ Dad admonished.

After glaring at Dad and scowling at Nova, Rainbow turned her attention to Mum. ‘I’m not going to forget this in a hurry,’ she snapped. ‘Thanks a lot for showing me up in
front of everyone.’

‘Now wait just a minute . . .’ Mum said, once she’d scraped her jaw off the floor.

But she was talking to the closing kitchen door.

Rainbow was long gone! The kitchen was stony silent as Mum turned to see Dad and Nova watching her. Nova drank her orange juice, looking away so she wouldn’t be blamed for what had just
happened. Dad moved in to stand behind Mum.

‘What you need is a stress-relieving massage,’ he said, his fingers already digging into Mum’s shoulders.

Mum winced and tried to pull away, but nothing doing. Nova felt sorry for her. She had already experienced Dad’s massages at a time when she used to suffer from leg cramps. The cramps were
less painful! Mum tried again to shrug out of his grasp, but Dad just held on tighter.

‘Ah!’ There was no mistaking the satisfaction in Dad’s voice. ‘Isn’t that much better? Let’s just work out those kinks.’

‘The kinks are all gone,’ Mum said hastily, trying to pull herself away. ‘Let go, dear. I’m getting pins and needles up and down my arms.’

‘Nonsense. Five minutes of one of my massages and you’ll be smiling for the rest of the week.’

By which time, Mum had had enough. She raised her hands to prise Dad’s fingers off her protesting muscles, starting with his little fingers first. ‘Tyler, back off! I’m not
being funny but your massages are hellish!’

Dad’s hands dropped to his sides. ‘Pardon?’

‘Every time you give me a massage, it feels like a golden eagle has landed on me and is trying to tear off bits of my body.’ Mum rubbed at each of her sore shoulders in turn.
‘I see,’ Dad said with icy politeness.

Nova raised her eyebrows. Today obviously wasn’t Mum’s day for tact, but Nova could see she was still trying to work through the pain in her shoulders as she spoke!

‘If that’s how you feel, I’ll take my eagle’s talons somewhere else.’ Dad stormed out of the kitchen without another word.

Nova fought down a grin. ‘Shall I break out the bread dough, Mum?’ she asked.

Rubbing her throbbing temples, Mum replied, ‘Please!’

I marched down the hallway, grabbing my jacket off the banister on my way to the front door.

‘Liam, get back here.’

I kept striding, pulling open the front door. Dad rushed up behind me and pushed it shut, painfully jerking my fingers in the process.

‘Liam, you’ll do as I say. This is still my house.’

‘Your house?’ I scoffed. ‘Mum left it to me. Or are you too drunk to remember that?’

Dad’s face went seven shades of red. He looked like one of those DIY paint charts. ‘Don’t talk to me like that, boy. I’m still your father.’ Spittle flew out of
his mouth to land on my cheek.

‘I wish to God I could forget.’ I took a great deal of pleasure in scrubbing at my face with the back of my hand. I let my eyes blaze, making no attempt to hide what I was
feeling. ‘Look at you. You’d be a joke if you weren’t so pathetic!’

I glared down at Dad, silently daring him to try something. At sixteen, I was several centimetres taller than him and I was glad for every single one of them. Burning spots of pink appeared on
Dad’s cheeks as his glance slid away He obviously couldn’t take the way I was looking at him. Good!

‘I do my best for you, Liam,’ he sighed. ‘I know you don’t believe that, but I do.’

‘You save your best for the local pub. You’ve no interest in anything or anyone except yourself

‘That’s not fair — ‘

‘Fair!’ I exploded. I pointed to my brother, who couldn’t stop sniffing as he sat on the top stair, taking it all in. ‘Every stitch of clothing on Josh’s back
was bought by me. If it wasn’t for my Saturday job, we’d be walking around in rags.’

‘I do my best,’ Dad repeated.

‘Oh, do me a favour.’ I shook my head. You have no idea what I want, what I’m doing, nothing. I passed all my mock exams but you weren’t even interested enough to ask
me how I did.’

‘I . . . well done . . .’

‘Don’t strain yourself, Dad.’ My contempt sliced into him with every word. ‘The first chance I get, I’m outta here. I’m going to pass my exams and go on to
college and, I swear, you will never see me again.’

‘Liam, take me with you.’ Josh’s voice rang out from above us.

‘No way. It’s time I looked out for myself instead of putting you first all the time. If it wasn’t for you, Josh, I’d’ve left this dump long ago . . .’
Josh flinched at my words. I regretted them the moment I said them. Josh’s face crumpled. Tears rolled down his face. His nose started to drip again.

‘You don’t have to worry about your brother. Josh is my responsibility. I’ll take care of him,’ Dad insisted.

I stared at him. Did he really believe what he was saying? Couldn’t he hear himself? My head was full of bitter words which tripped and tumbled over each other in their haste to leave
my mouth. There were too many of them, darting back and forth much too fast. They hurt so much they made my eyes sting. I clamped my lips together. Silent moments passed.

‘Dad, get out of my way,’ I said, when I could trust myself to speak without making a fool of myself.