So Much to Learn (37 page)

All in all it
was a pigsty and it smelt pretty gross too.

"Oh Jack," I
sighed, picking my way over to the bed and sitting down on the
edge, "What did you do to yourself last night?"

There was no
reply from the mound so I reached for the water and rattled the
paracetamol packet above where I supposed his head was. I was
rewarded by a groan and then his face, crinkled and red, emerged
from under the covers. He looked at me blearily through watery and
bloodshot eyes and then shook his head a fraction.

"No," he said
flatly.

"No?" I
repeated in astonishment. "What, you fancy being a martyr to the
hangover? Don't be a moron, drink up."

He pushed my
hand holding the water away and heaved himself up into a sitting
position, the covers falling away and revealing that his chest was
bare. I saw the hickey I had given him, faded but still definitely
there, on his shoulder and then, I felt my chest tighten in dismay,
my eyes fell on the other scratches upon his shoulders. Scratches
that I had definitely not put there, scratches which he could only
have obtained last night…

I tore my eyes
away from his chest and looked again at his face from which the red
was fading leaving him a grey/green colour, almost a khaki. He
looked a real mess, but he was my Jack and my heart went out to him
at the sight of him looking so despondent and ill. I was about to
reach out and wrap my arms around him when he ruined the moment
somewhat by running a hand through his somewhat greasy hair and
saying crossly, "I know Matt’s sent you in here to convince me to
get up and go with you to Bridunna, but I've told him and now I'm
telling you, it isn't going to happen. So just forget it."

Deciding to
fight that particular battle later I refrained from answering and
instead proffered the water and paracetamol again. He looked at me
steadily, letting me know that he wasn't going to drop the subject,
but he did take two tablets and swallowed the water in three gulps.
When he had finished, I stood up and held my hand out for the
glass, preparing to go and get him some more but he took hold of my
wrist and pulled me back down onto the bed.

"Look," he
croaked, "Matt will be waiting down in the car park so let's get
this over with now. I'm not going to Bridunna today and the sooner
the two of you realise and accept this the sooner you can start the
trip."

I rolled my
eyes and shook my head in annoyance. "Oh get real Jack," I said in
exasperation, "You know as well as I do that there’s no way that
Matt and I are going home without you."

He shrugged and
then winced as if that movement had jerked his head a little too
much in the fragile condition he was in. "You have to," he said
simply, his voice strengthening, "your parents will want to see
you."

"Yeah and it's
not as if Mum would kill us or anything if we turned up without
you," I said sarcastically. "This trip isn't for me and Matt, Jack,
it's for you, we want to help you." As soon as the last words were
out of my mouth I wanted to shove them back in as I knew
immediately that I had used the wrong tactic.

His expression
darkened with anger and he snapped, "Well save your help for those
who need it."

Damn him for
his pigheaded independence!

I thought for a
moment of retreating and using a soft approach, but since I never
really had practice using that strategy, I decided to go with my
tried and true method of direct attack.

"You do need
it; in fact I can't think of anyone else right now who needs to go
to Bridunna quite as much as you do," I said matter-of-factly.
"What about your family? Don't you want to, I don't know, pay your
respects or whatever?"

"They're dead,"
he stated flatly and I found myself clutching at his hand in
response to the sadness in his voice he was trying so desperately
to hide, "so I doubt they'll notice whether I'm respecting them or
not."

"Fine," I said
more soothingly, "maybe it won't make much difference to the twins
or your mum, but what about you…and" I suddenly remembered that he
did actually have a living relation, "what about your father? I'm
sure that he….well he must…" I trailed off not able to say with any
surety whether his father would give two hoots whether Jack was
there or not. I continued to struggle with finding words which
wouldn't sound too hollow and Jack gave a wry smile.

"Don't strain yourself trying to think of something nice to
say about my father, you could be here for a long time and there is
no guarantee there even
is
anything." He looked past me to his jumbled
bookcase and stared at it so intently that I wondered whether he
was attempting to set it on fire with the power of his
mind.

"I'm sorry that
you're trying to pretend that going home doesn't matter to you," I
said quietly after a moment, " because I know that it does." I saw
him open his mouth to object and so ploughed on, "And just think
for a moment, if you get this scholarship today will be the last
20th September you'll be able to have at home for a few years."

"I appreciate
how much effort you're putting into this, Tally," he said gently,
pulling his hand away from mine, "but the answer is still no."

I tugged in
frustration on my ponytail and then gave him a poke in the chest
(still avoiding thinking about the appearance of the scratches).
"Look, big guns now," I said frankly, "I honestly think that if you
don't go you'll regret it later on."

Jack sighed and
turned his face away from me, depriving me even of the ability to
read his expression. "Let me worry about my regrets, it's not your
job," he said coldly. "I'm a big boy I can make my own decisions
and deal with the consequences myself."

"Of course you
can!" I howled in exasperation, getting up onto my knees and
tugging at his shoulder, trying to make him turn back to me. "But
don't you understand that Matt and I aren't just going to stand by
as you make what we see as a huge mistake? You would do whatever
you could to help the two of us, wouldn't you? Well, why won't you
let us help you? You are so frustrating!"

"You know I
would do whatever I could to help any of the Davenports but this is
different," he insisted.

I released him
and sat back, the wind taken out of me. "No it isn't," I said
flatly, "so don't pretend it is."

There was a
very long, very weighted, pause during which a scrap of electric
blue lace in amongst Jack's clothes caught my eye and, on further
inspection, I realised that it was a bra. I felt as if I had been
hit in the stomach by a wrecking ball, but after a couple of deep
gulps of air, I bravely pushed the feeling aside. I had promised
myself that I wouldn't get upset at evidence that Jack had slept
with someone else on the 19th and I was determined to stick to my
resolve.

Still, the
discovery did aid my next move as I stood up off the bed and turned
to look down at him, feeling at once very sad and very angry. "I
hate that you don't trust us to help you," I said, calling all the
emotions I was feeling up into my voice and giving him the full
brunt of it, "but I'm not going to make you do something you don't
want to do." I walked to the door, but then looked back, "Oh and I
meant it when I said that we're not going to Bridunna without you
so just bear in mind that you will be the one to explain to mum why
we didn't turn up this weekend."

With that
final, threatening sentence hanging in the air, I left his room,
closing the door firmly. Once outside in the dishevelled main room
I leant back against the door and paused for a moment, listening
intently.

A couple of
seconds passed and then I heard the rustle of bedclothes as Jack
got out of bed and then the sound of drawers opening and closing as
he began to pack what he needed for Bridunna. With a satisfied and
relieved smile I turned towards my bedroom to do the same.

The three of
us, Matt, Jack and myself, stood on the veranda of the Whitby
family house and looked apprehensively at the solid front door.

It was very
still around us, no breeze rattled the leaves on the trees or
bushes and all the birds seem to have taken up residence on
somebody else's property that afternoon. The midday sun shone down
onto the ground, slowly gathering strength as it climbed higher in
the sky, although its heat couldn't penetrate the bubble of gloom
cocooning me and the boys.

The garden was
filled with scraggly, mostly dead, plants but the fences around the
paddocks looked sturdy and well maintained as did the horses
grazing within the fenced off areas. I had always thought that Mr
Whitby had taken better care of his horses than anything else,
including his own family.

As I looked at
the brown brick house before me I thought how strange it was that I
knew Jack so intimately and yet his childhood home was so foreign
to me. I had only been inside the formidable house a handful of
times, none of the visits being either particularly pleasant or
long lasting. The general vibe of the place didn't encourage
hanging around.

"Well, let's
get it over with then," Jack said suddenly, making me jump. He
strode forward and knocked smartly on the door and I waited, hardly
daring to breathe, for the appearance of the most hated man in
Bridunna (taking into account that Alex could hardly be considered
a man yet).

After a couple
of seconds there came the sound of heavy footsteps on the other
side of the door and all three of us tensed up, Jack squaring his
shoulders as if he was about to go into battle. I suppose, in a
way, he was.

The door opened
and Mr Whitby stood in the shadowy entrance way glaring fiercely at
us. His expression didn't even flicker as he saw who was standing
on his doorstep but then I suppose he was expecting our visit. He
was a tall man, pretty much the same height as his son, with watery
blue eyes and short hair that, although once as dark brown as
Jack's, was now a silver grey.

As I silently
scrutinised him he looked steadily at Jack before saying coldly,
"Must be that time of year again."

To most
observers it would seem that Jack had not reacted as his father
spoke but I was watching him so closely that I had seen him give
the tiniest of flinches and I shifted uneasily, wishing that Matt
didn't stand between us.

Jack didn't
seem to need my support, however, as the next moment he said, in a
tone even icier than that of his father's, "You don't need a visit
from me to remind you of the date, Dad."

I was glad to
see that Mr Whitby didn't seem to have anything to say to that, but
not so thrilled to see his eyes leaving Jack and falling onto me,
the weight of his gaze making me feel as if he was physically
pushing me down.

"Needed to
bring a girl to protect you this year did you?" He said
distastefully, continuing to stare at me as if I was something
nasty someone had left on his doorstep and I suppose, depending on
who you were, you might argue that that was what I was.

"Who do you
think I need protecting from? You?" Jack laughed harshly. "Not
likely."

There was an extremely awkward silence as Jack and his father
sized each other up and I began to wonder if perhaps Jack
did
need protecting.
Goodness knows that I would jump right in if he needed me but in
terms of physical fighting I wouldn't exactly be much help. Maybe I
would just shove Matt in there.

"Talia, didn't
you say that you wanted to see the horses?" Matt said suddenly and
loudly as if he'd heard my thoughts and didn't think much of the
idea.

I craned my
head up to look at him incredulously. "Um, no," I said honestly,
wondering what he thought he was doing.

"I'm sure you
did earlier, come on I'll show you." He took my elbow and began
tugging at it, but I stood my ground.

"I've seen
horses before," I said through gritted teeth, looking between him
and Jack and wondering why my brother wanted to abandon his best
friend at this pivotal moment.

"Yeah, but
everyone knows that Whitby horses are something else," Matt said
stolidly.

Trying to
release his hand from me I said, with forced calmness, "Sure, but
I've seen Whitby horses before as well."

"Talia, come with me
now
," Matt abandoned all pretence and
pulled at me so insistently that I had no choice but to follow him,
looking longingly over my shoulder at Jack.

"Don't spook
the horses," Mr Whitby shouted after us and Matt had to tighten his
grip on me to stop me turning, marching back, and giving him what
for.

When Matt and I
were a good distance away from the house and in front of a paddock
full of well bred horses, he released me and I glared at him
reproachfully before rubbing pointedly at the place he had grabbed
me.

"Why did you do
that?" I demanded looking back at the house and seeing that Jack
and his father had gone inside. "Now Jack is alone with that prick
and I promised we'd be there for him."

"That prick is
his dad," Matt reminded me, hitching himself up onto the fence and
looking down at me critically.

"I don't care,"
I snapped leaning against the wooden slats of the fence and looking
through the gaps at the horses, "I hate him. And you hate him too
so don't get all sanctimonious on me."

"Easy tiger,"
Matt chuckled darkly, "I'm not pretending that Mr Whitby is my most
favourite person in the world, I'm just saying that he has his
reasons for his attitude."

Not this
excuses bull again, I thought crossly. "Yeah, and the major reason
is because he's a complete and utter bas-" I began but Matt cut me
off by saying,