The Trouble with Love (4 page)

EIGHT

Polly sat in the middle of a pile of fabric and groaned. She didn't know where to start. One minute it was like she had too many clothes, and the next, too few.

She picked up a pair of silk trousers in a purple floral pattern, turning them towards the light.

Can I wear them to lunch with Dad today?
she wondered.
Or are they too crazy?

She had found the trousers a month ago in a charity shop, and loved the fabric at once. They had fitted perfectly around her waist, but as Polly was only five feet two inches tall, the bottoms had puddled around her feet. With a couple of snips and some careful hemming, she had turned them into a really cool pair of ankle-grazing trousers that turned people's heads whenever she wore them.

As she folded the trousers carefully down the middle, lining up the seams, she noticed something that made her heart sink. The left leg was shorter than the right by a few millimetres. She checked again. There was no doubt about it.

She put the trousers down, feeling sick. She'd worked so hard on them. How could she have made such a stupid mistake?

She swallowed and looked around her room. Everything was a mess. She had to get it straight before she did anything else. How could she find what she wanted to wear when she could hardly see the floor?

Feeling flustered, she straightened everything as neatly as she could. The floral trousers were folded. Shirts went back in the wardrobe. When everything was exactly as it should be, Polly returned to her most pressing concern.

What was she going to wear for her dad?

He had called last night, on her mobile. Polly hadn't said much, aware of her mother moving around outside her bedroom.

“It's a great place, you'll love it,” her dad told her about the restaurant where he wanted to take her for lunch. “It's totally vegan. Everything is sourced locally. Their oat-cookie ice cream made from coconut milk is incredible.”

There was a knock on Polly's door.

“Can I come in?”

Polly had almost leaped out of her skin. Her mum would
flip
if she knew who she was talking to. “Got to go, Dad,” she said, her heart hammering against her ribs. “See you there at twelve-thirty tomorrow.”

“Bye, Polly Dol—”

She had slammed her phone shut, cutting him off, just as her mother had opened her bedroom door. It had been a close call in more ways than one.

Wiping her forehead and straightening her jumpers once more, she checked the time. Nearly twelve o'clock. If she didn't hurry up, she'd be late. Why was this so
hard
?

Her phone rang. For one mad moment, Polly wondered if it could be Sam. He might have found her number somehow, and be calling her. . . Just as quickly, she pushed the thought away. He hadn't been interested enough to stick around last night. And how would he have tracked down her mobile number anyway?

The caller display said:
Lila
.

Polly ignored it. Lila had called three times already this morning, but she hadn't felt up to a conversation. She was too stressed about lunch, and Sam, and her confusing feelings for Ollie. She was so sick of it all.

Her mother knocked.

“Come in,” Polly said wearily.

“You OK in here?” her mother asked. “You've been a while.”

Polly shrugged. What could she say?
I'm meeting your worst enemy for lunch in half an hour?

“I'm getting ready to go out with Lila,” she lied.

Her mum studied the pristine room, and Polly still in her PJs. “You don't look ready to me.”

“It takes a while,” she said vaguely. “You know. Deciding what to wear.”

Her mother hesitated at the door. Polly could tell she wanted to chat. She snatched another glimpse at the time. She was running seriously late now.

“I don't want you seeing your father,” said her mother abruptly. “I know him and I know he's up to something. Has he contacted you?”

Polly had been expecting it, but it still felt like a blow. “You sent him away last night,” she said, careful not to answer her mother's question. “How could he have contacted me?”

Her mother put her hands on her hips. “That
man
,” she said furiously. “Who does he think he is, turning up unannounced? I don't want him unsettling you, Polly. Did you know he's buying a
farm
?”

This was real news to Polly, so it was easy to look surprised. “Where?”

“His beloved California, of course. He wants to go completely off-grid. No computer, no phone, growing his own food.” She shook her head in contempt. “Typical. No idea of how to live in the real world. He really has lost his mind this time.”

Polly thought it sounded like a brilliant idea, but she stayed silent, determined not to take sides.

Her phone rang again. She froze.

“It's Lila,” said her mum, glancing at the phone lying on Polly's bed.

Thank goodness
, Polly thought.
It would have been a nightmare if it had been Dad.

“We need to work out last-minute details,” she lied, reaching out her hand as if to answer the phone. “See you later, Mum.”

Her mother left the room, still muttering about Polly's dad.

Polly let the phone shrill on in her hand until it fell silent. Suddenly she felt bad about meeting her father. She should call and cancel. It wasn't fair on her mum, keeping secrets. It was getting late anyway.

She started dialling the number that he had left – the farmhouse where he was camping. But she faltered on the last digit. He would be so disappointed. If she was honest, she would be disappointed too.

Before she had finished dialling, she hung up. Her nerves were jangling like bells, and her heart had started racing the way it always did when she was super-anxious.

Focus
, she told herself.

Returning to her wardrobe, she started pulling out clothes again. There was a bad seam here, and a button hanging off there. Nothing was right. The only thing she liked was the dress she was working on at the moment, but the hem still needed doing. She couldn't fix it in five minutes.

At last she pulled on an old blue tea dress with tiny white polka dots and finished it off with a wide belt. Slipping on her brogues, she adjusted the shoelaces until the ends matched perfectly. Then she brushed her hair exactly one hundred times, fifty each side, and fixed in a pair of hair clips. Another five minutes passed as she fiddled with the clips until they matched, and tried to calm her breathing.

People deceived each other all the time. She could do this.

NINE

Polly could hardly breathe, she was laughing so much.

“And then you won't believe what happened next, Polly-Dolly,” her father said, leaning across the table. “The bull started charging and bellowing something. I won't translate, but the gist was, ‘Hey, two-legs, put your hands away and get outta ma field'.”

“And you're actually going to
buy
him?” Polly choked. “He'll eat you for lunch, Dad!”

“He and I will get along just fine,” said her dad. “As long as I never mistake him for a cow again.” His hazel eyes twinkled at her, his fingers fiddling with the remains of the most delicious granary bread Polly had ever eaten.

Polly was full, and happy, and relaxed. Her dad was really
talking
to her, like she couldn't remember him talking to her before – as if her opinion really mattered, as if he was listening to every word she said in return. He was treating her like an adult, not a child, she realized. It was an amazing feeling.

He had been right about the restaurant. Although she had arrived late and flustered, it wasn't long before she forgot her nerves and gorged herself on an amazing salad of roasted beetroot and tart apple with cashew cream, followed by aubergine curry and then the famous coconut milk oat-cookie ice cream topped with fresh blackberries. They had drunk fresh-squeezed carrot-apple juice and now sat with two mugs of steaming peppermint tea, picking over the details of their lives. In some ways it was as if the last six years had never happened – and in other ways, it was as if she had gone from nine to fifteen years old in a single second. She had never realized how alike they were, in the things that mattered to them and the things that made them laugh.

“And the farm is north of San Francisco?” she said eagerly. “Do you have pictures? Do you have a view?”

He pressed his hands to his heart. “The view is like heaven. Rolling vineyards, and pine groves, and a stream that winds through the valley like a glinting steel ribbon. You are going to
love
it.”

“Do you have pictures?”

Her dad shook his head. “Who needs pictures when you have this?” And he tapped his forehead.

“Insanity?” Polly laughed.

He grinned back. “Imagination. The buildings are in a bad state, but I'm going to rebuild using local materials. I'm going completely carbon-neutral. I'll have a turbine, and a heat pump sunk into the ground. We'll have solar panels everywhere. And I'm going to open a store in the outbuildings. We'll focus on sustainability, recycling, natural products. I could definitely sell some of your clothes.” He looked admiringly at her outfit. “Upcycled, yes? Great buttons.”

Polly felt heady with delight. “They're shells,” she said shyly, fiddling with the tiny buttons down the front of her dress. “I collected them on the beach last year.”

“I can see that.” He smiled, shaking his head. “That's real creativity, Polly. Using the natural world without exploiting it. They go crazy for that stuff in California.”

“Do you really think you could sell my clothes?” Polly said, feeling excited. “I have so many ideas, Dad. It drives me crazy, the things people get rid of. Beautiful clothes that just need a little love to turn them around and put them out in the world again.”

Her father pointed a triumphant finger at her. “That is a great slogan. ‘Turned around with love'.”

Polly's mind was filled to bursting with ideas about what she might make for her dad to sell. Buttons were easy, and they transformed the plainest of outfits. She should do a special line of natural buttons – shells, driftwood, seed heads. . . She could picture the store already: an old barn in the California hills, scented with freshly sawn wood and filled with unique products. And they would definitely need a website. She could help design that too.

Her dad reached across the table and took her arm, pulling her out of her dreams.

“I have something I want to ask you,” he said.

Polly wondered why her father looked so serious. “Ask me whatever you want, Dad,” she said warmly.

He ran a hand through his thick sun-bleached hair. He looked nervous.

“Would you consider moving back to California?” he blurted. “To live with me again?”

Polly stared at him.

“You don't have to decide right away,” her dad went on quickly. “It's a big decision. Leaving all your friends, and your school, and your mother. But we could do so much together back home, Polly. You could help me with the farm, and with setting up the store. And I've missed so much of you growing up. I'd like to be there for whatever's left.”

Polly didn't know what to think. She would see California again! But there was a big difference between visiting and staying there for good. Could she uproot everything and go back to the States? Maybe it was the answer. She had loved her life in San Francisco, and she missed her father terribly. And it wasn't as if things were all that great here. There were her confusing feelings for Ollie, and the way her heart was breaking over Sam. Her mother wasn't easy to live with, and sometimes, when they argued, Polly could understand why her dad had left. What was keeping her in Heartside Bay?

“Are you serious?” she asked weakly.

“I've never been more serious about anything in my life,” said her father. He signalled for the bill. “Will you think about it?”

Polly nodded. “Definitely.”

His face blazed with delight. “Really? It would mean so much. We could make a really great life together out there. We make a good team, don't we?”

He lifted his fist to bump knuckles, which Polly returned. There was no denying it. She and her dad did make a good team.

As her dad paid the bill, Polly imagined how her life could be back in California. There would be colour and sunshine, creativity and cute high-school boys to take her mind off the ones she would leave behind. On the face of it, it was a no-brainer. She should definitely go.

Her phone started buzzing. Her head still full of California sunshine and organic fashion, Polly lifted her phone from her bag and looked at the screen.

 

Mum

 

Her blood turned to ice, congealing in her veins. She sat there, frozen, until the phone stopped buzzing. Then she noticed she had a text from Lila.

 

Came over to see u but u werent there.

Think I landed u in it with ur mum.

Really sorry.xx

 

Polly felt like a trapped animal. Her mum knew she wasn't with Lila. She was in so much trouble.

Another text popped up on the screen.

 

I WANT YOU HOME AT ONCE.

THIS HAD BETTER BE GOOD.

MUM

 

“You OK, Polly-Dolly?” asked her dad as he pocketed his wallet.

Polly shook her head. “Mum knows we're together,” she said, swallowing hard.

Her dad looked nervous but defiant. “You're my daughter. We can see each other if we want. You mother can't stop us.”

Polly groped for the happiness she had been feeling for the past two hours, but it had gone. Sensing her mood, her father quietly helped her put on her coat. They left the restaurant in silence.

Polly stared out of her dad's rental car window, but she didn't see the houses, or the sea, or the gulls, or any of the things she normally loved about Heartside Bay. She picked at the buttons on her dress, finding a crack in one of the shell buttons with the side of her finger. She took hold and tugged until it came away in her hand, then wound down the window so she could throw it away.

The shouting started as soon as her dad had parked the car.

“This is typical of you,” her mum hissed, jabbing her dad hard in the chest with a stiff finger. “Irresponsible.
Underhand
. You have no idea what Polly went through when you left. And you think you can just swan in and out of her life whenever you feel like it—”

Polly kept her head bowed.
It'll be over soon
, she thought.

Her mother rounded on her. “I thought more of you than this, Polly,” she said. The disappointment in her voice made Polly want to curl up and disappear. “I told you I didn't want you seeing your father. And what do you do? You lie to me. You're as bad as he is!”

“Don't blame Polly for this,” her father shouted, his cheeks mottled red with anger.

“Don't worry,” her mother shouted back. “I'm very clear exactly who to blame here. Go to your room, Polly.”

Her father caught Polly by the wrist as she moved slowly past him. “I'm in the UK for a few days on business,” he said, trying to smile at her. “We'll catch up again before I leave, OK?”

“You can't just ‘catch up' on six years of her life—” Polly's mum raved.

Polly trudged up the stairs, her dress flapping open where she had ripped away the button. Locking her bedroom door behind her, she flopped on to the bed and stared at the ceiling. She could still hear them tearing each other's throats out downstairs. All her unhappy memories of California came flooding back. Could she really go back to the place where everything had turned sour?

She turned up her music full blast to drown out their voices. Then she took off her dress and stuffed it to the back of her cupboard. Slipping into her favourite pyjamas, she picked up her current sewing project and tried to focus on her needle. When she pricked her finger and marked the fabric with a splash of blood, she threw the whole thing in the bin. Then she buried her head in her pillow and cried.