he glanced over his shoulder. Then back at me. He shook his head as if dismissing a thought.
‘Why don’t you stay?’ he said.
I breathed hard. ‘What?’
‘You won’t find him anywhere else. Probably.’
Tears sprang to my eyes and I blinked furiously, gritting my teeth. ‘I’m not looking,’ I hissed.
‘Yes, you are. He’s from here, you know that?’
‘Stop it! That’s my business! It’s my – father!’
He shrugged. ‘Sorry. It’s like looking in a lit window. Sometimes we can’t help it.’
‘Doesn’t anybody believe in
privacy
?’ I almost shrieked.
‘I said I’m sorry. But aren’t you curious about your father? I know I am.’
‘Yeah? I thought I was a
mongrel runt
?’
He hooted a laugh, and then his voice dropped so low only I could have heard it. ‘We won’t hurt you.’ The ‘we’ was stressed, just enough; then his voice was normal
again, volume, tone and all. ‘Oh, and
he
wants you to stay the summer.’ Seth jerked a thumb at his son.
‘He does?’ I gave Rory a shocked sidelong glance. He’d brightened so much he almost seemed taller. His face was all hopeful innocence as he raised his eyebrows at me.
Seth had known exactly what to say. That disturbed me a lot more than it encouraged me. The wild prospect of finding my father wasn’t one I could just ignore. He knew that. Bastard.
The thing was that I considered the rival attractions. Vodka hidden in Sprite bottles in the park; drinking it with girls I barely liked and boys I loathed. Shoplifting for fun, taking bets on
who’d get the next visit from the community support officer. Trying, without looking too uncool, to avoid the drugs that managed to make me simultaneously hyper and bored. Endless sniping
from Sheena; gladiatorial bitching contests with my cousins; Marty’s leering eyes and pawing fingers. Oh, and a whole summer’s taunting from Lauren, just because I so desperately wanted
my father, I’d been stupid enough to put it in writing.
Would they even report me missing? Even if they did, nobody would look that hard.
I took a surreptitious look round the stone courtyard. Those were stables on the south side, and I’d been passed by at least six perfectly normal horses that hadn’t tried to eat me.
I liked riding; I’d been not bad at it when I was eight, brilliant when I was nine.
To the right was a large sand arena where a woman in a black t-shirt, her long blonde hair woven into a thick braid, was galloping a horse past a line of butts and firing arrows with scary
consistency. Out on the machair the anarchic football match was back in progress, and I felt like I could belt right down there and join in, and would be perfectly welcome if I did. The sun was
high and warm, and there were two beaches close by, white sands laced around clear turquoise water. I didn’t want to go back the The Paddocks. Ever.
And Rory was the hottest thing I’d seen
all year.
‘Here’s the deal.’ Seth grinned at me. ‘You, Ginger, can keep your hands to yourself. And I’ll smooth things over with your aunt.’
‘It’s strawberry blonde,’ I said. ‘Yes please.’
RORY
I knew the dream wasn’t real. Never was, not these days. I was aware even in sleep that I wasn’t a small child any more, but not being real isn’t the same as
not being true. Watching my father crawl on the stone floor of our shared room, moonlight dancing on his twisted back muscles, I was quizzical; and even my unformed baby brain was needled with pity
as well as fear. But there was nothing I could do. Never was.
Seth hadn’t seen me, didn’t know I was awake. He curled on the rug like a wounded animal, clawing at his shoulder blades. When each spasm passed, he hugged his legs, sobbing
soundlessly. Everything was done silently. I think it wasn’t just pride; I think he didn’t want to wake me. He didn’t know I was always awake.
Towards the end of the dream – because I always dreamed of that one particular night
‘Why don’t you stay?’ he said.
I breathed hard. ‘What?’
‘You won’t find him anywhere else. Probably.’
Tears sprang to my eyes and I blinked furiously, gritting my teeth. ‘I’m not looking,’ I hissed.
‘Yes, you are. He’s from here, you know that?’
‘Stop it! That’s my business! It’s my – father!’
He shrugged. ‘Sorry. It’s like looking in a lit window. Sometimes we can’t help it.’
‘Doesn’t anybody believe in
privacy
?’ I almost shrieked.
‘I said I’m sorry. But aren’t you curious about your father? I know I am.’
‘Yeah? I thought I was a
mongrel runt
?’
He hooted a laugh, and then his voice dropped so low only I could have heard it. ‘We won’t hurt you.’ The ‘we’ was stressed, just enough; then his voice was normal
again, volume, tone and all. ‘Oh, and
he
wants you to stay the summer.’ Seth jerked a thumb at his son.
‘He does?’ I gave Rory a shocked sidelong glance. He’d brightened so much he almost seemed taller. His face was all hopeful innocence as he raised his eyebrows at me.
Seth had known exactly what to say. That disturbed me a lot more than it encouraged me. The wild prospect of finding my father wasn’t one I could just ignore. He knew that. Bastard.
The thing was that I considered the rival attractions. Vodka hidden in Sprite bottles in the park; drinking it with girls I barely liked and boys I loathed. Shoplifting for fun, taking bets on
who’d get the next visit from the community support officer. Trying, without looking too uncool, to avoid the drugs that managed to make me simultaneously hyper and bored. Endless sniping
from Sheena; gladiatorial bitching contests with my cousins; Marty’s leering eyes and pawing fingers. Oh, and a whole summer’s taunting from Lauren, just because I so desperately wanted
my father, I’d been stupid enough to put it in writing.
Would they even report me missing? Even if they did, nobody would look that hard.
I took a surreptitious look round the stone courtyard. Those were stables on the south side, and I’d been passed by at least six perfectly normal horses that hadn’t tried to eat me.
I liked riding; I’d been not bad at it when I was eight, brilliant when I was nine.
To the right was a large sand arena where a woman in a black t-shirt, her long blonde hair woven into a thick braid, was galloping a horse past a line of butts and firing arrows with scary
consistency. Out on the machair the anarchic football match was back in progress, and I felt like I could belt right down there and join in, and would be perfectly welcome if I did. The sun was
high and warm, and there were two beaches close by, white sands laced around clear turquoise water. I didn’t want to go back the The Paddocks. Ever.
And Rory was the hottest thing I’d seen
all year.
‘Here’s the deal.’ Seth grinned at me. ‘You, Ginger, can keep your hands to yourself. And I’ll smooth things over with your aunt.’
‘It’s strawberry blonde,’ I said. ‘Yes please.’
RORY
I knew the dream wasn’t real. Never was, not these days. I was aware even in sleep that I wasn’t a small child any more, but not being real isn’t the same as
not being true. Watching my father crawl on the stone floor of our shared room, moonlight dancing on his twisted back muscles, I was quizzical; and even my unformed baby brain was needled with pity
as well as fear. But there was nothing I could do. Never was.
Seth hadn’t seen me, didn’t know I was awake. He curled on the rug like a wounded animal, clawing at his shoulder blades. When each spasm passed, he hugged his legs, sobbing
soundlessly. Everything was done silently. I think it wasn’t just pride; I think he didn’t want to wake me. He didn’t know I was always awake.
Towards the end of the dream – because I always dreamed of that one particular night
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