Sweet Sorrow(70)

‘No, that’s all right. Just wanted a word. Charlie?’ She was already walking away. I followed her down to the edge of the pond.

‘So – how are you?’

‘Fine.’

Swallows swooped through clouds of midges on the water’s surface.

‘Anything going on?’

‘Nope. Nothing’s going on.’

‘Because I don’t know any of those people.’

‘Well, I do!’

‘Charlie, you don’t know anyone who plays the penny whistle.’

I kicked some gravel loose, gathered up some little stones and skimmed one across the pond. ‘I know Lucy Tran, I know Helen Beavis and Colin Smart, they were all at my school.’

‘The twins say they know that girl from Chatsborne.’ She was nodding towards Fran.

‘We’re not at school any more.’

‘But you’ve never mentioned any of them. Charlie. It’s not …’ She put her hand on my arm, and lowered her voice. ‘It’s not a Christian thing, is it?’ I laughed at this and she pinched my arm.

‘Ow! What makes you say that?’

‘They just have a look to them, all happy-clappy. I don’t mind, it’s your eternal soul, I just want to know!’

I skimmed another stone. I could have just told her, I suppose. It wouldn’t have been the strangest thing, at sixteen, to be trying something new.

‘Or is it a cult? Because I don’t want to have to deprogramme you, Charlie, I’ve got too much on.’

But I wasn’t ready to confide in Mum again. I still craved the hurt look. ‘It’s not a cult and it’s none of your business!’

And there it was. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘No, not any more.’

I skimmed another stone. ‘Are you trying to hit those poor birds?’ she said and, when I didn’t answer, sighed. ‘How’s your dad?’

I skimmed a stone. ‘I’ve not really seen him.’

‘Since when?’

‘Since Monday.’ The next stone pattered far across the water and I glanced at her, for approval I suppose, but she looked anxious and distracted.

‘Why not?’ she said, one hand to her forehead. I was, after all, her eyes and ears, there to reassure her.

‘I’ve just not been home much, that’s all. He’s fine, we’ve just not spoken.’

‘Why not?’

‘He’s asleep when I get back.’

‘Where have you been?’

‘With the cult. It’s quite a time commitment.’

‘Charlie, seriously—’

‘What with all the rituals and everything—’

‘I’m only asking where—’

‘And like I said, where I’ve been, it’s none of your busi—’

‘Why isn’t it?’ she said, suddenly fierce. ‘What’s your thinking there?’ I went to skim another pebble but she knocked my hand from below, sending them raining onto the water. ‘I am trying with you, Charlie. Please, at least acknowledge that I’m doing my best,’ and she turned, arms folded, head down, and walked back to the pub.

I remained at the water’s edge, watching the swallows, the thrill of righteousness fading into regret. Up at the table, Full Fathom Five had turned to the English folk repertoire, a lavishly harmonised round of ‘Rose, Rose, Rose Red’ that might never end. I could not go back to that. Even if I somehow retrieved my place next to Fran, I was shaken by my own admission that I’d not seen Dad. He gave no sign of enjoying my company but he didn’t like to be left alone either, and four days must have felt like solitary confinement. I felt the old fears returning. I would leave straight away, get my bike, go home. I heard and felt footsteps behind me, a hand on my back, pushing me towards the water then pulling me back.

‘Gotcha!’ It was Alex, with Helen and Fran following behind.

‘Look at you, all moody and alone,’ said Helen. ‘What mystery do these dark waters hold?’

‘“I’m in mourning for my life!”’ said Fran, whatever that meant.

‘Not any more,’ said Alex. ‘He’s coming with us.’

‘Alex has a plan,’ said Helen.

‘One rule in this life,’ said Alex, ‘when the folk songs start, it’s time to go. Here’s what to do. Charlie, tell everyone you’re going home: “Night everyone, work in the morning”, then go to this address.’ He handed me a scrap of paper, torn from the cover of his script. ‘We’ve got a taxi on its way. Wait for us outside.’

‘What is it?’

‘A party,’ said Helen.

‘But I mean a real party, very exclusive.’

‘I won’t know anyone.’

‘You’ll know us,’ said Fran.

‘Shouldn’t I change?’

‘Ideally, yes, but there’s no time for that,’ said Alex. ‘This is … fine.’

‘Is anyone else going?’

‘Just us. We’re initiating you into our clique. You should feel very honoured.’

‘I don’t know if I should—’ Three, four days he’d been alone now.