The door opened as they went up the steps. A woman in her late thirties stood there, smiling and welcoming.
‘Merry Christmas!’ she said. ‘Come in, before you turn into icicles!’
Once inside, Jennifer made introductions. It seemed she didn’t need to mention that her mother couldn’t speak, and Elouise was quick to see the familiar ease that existed between her daughter and Owen’s mother. She wondered if she should feel jealous, but as she watched her daughter – so comfortable in this house, smiling and laughing, and the genuine affection she wasn’t hesitant to display with her boyfriend, Owen – Elouise instead felt a crumbling inside. She’d forgotten that her daughter had once always been like this – so free, unmarred by anger and the stains it left on the heart. Her daughter’s flushed face and bright smile were, she realised, a gift, unexpected and worth more to her than anything else on this day.
The boy, Owen, was a serious-looking young man, but there was magic in his eyes – a dark kind, yet lively all the same. And whatever he and her daughter shared seemed honest and true. They seemed too young for a bond so deep.
Susan and Jim, who was a quiet man with eyes very much like his son’s, led Elouise into the living room. She was already trembling with unexpected emotions, and the sight of the twins squealing with impatience in front of the Christmas tree, poking eagerly among the as yet unopened presents, made Elouise sag suddenly, her knees giving way. Jim was quickly at her side, and Elouise nodded her gratitude as he helped her to a chair. There was deep concern on all the faces surrounding her, but she could barely see them through a sudden welling of tears. A glass of water was carefully placed in her hand. Deeply embarrassed, Elouise smiled and shook her head.
Jennifer kneeled in front of her. ‘Mom? Are you okay?’
She nodded, reaching for the box of Kleenex that had been placed on her lap.
‘Are you happy?’ Jennifer asked. ‘Is this just happy?’
Elouise nodded again. Happy, yes. In pieces. In pain. But happy. She leaned forward and kissed her daughter on the forehead.
As she slowly regained her composure, she felt drawn into the excitement coming from the twins, Tanya and William.
‘We usually open our presents Christmas Eve,’ Susan explained. ‘But this year is special. Needless to say, nobody slept a wink last night. Part of the fun.’
‘Fun?’ Owen scowled. ‘It was exhausting.’
‘But worth it, right, Owen?’ Jennifer’s expression was dangerous.
He seemed unintimidated, grinning as he said, ‘Sure. I’m all for torturing little kids. What else is Christmas for, eh?’
‘Owen,’ his mother warned.
Elouise smiled at him. No tiptoeing around for this boy, thank God. I’m so sick of thin ice. She tried to think of a way to put everyone else at ease, to keep them from trying too hard, but Owen seemed determined to do it for her. He rose and came over.
‘It’s quieter in the kitchen. And there’s food, some of it edible. Nobody’s allowed to open anything till after you and Jennifer get something to eat. So let’s torture the runts a while longer.’ He held out his hand.
Elouise couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She delicately placed her hand in his and stood.
He faced the others and spoke in a high tone. ‘Like my teacher always says, the sound of kids having fun can be simply intolerable. We’ll be back. Jennifer?’
A bewildered Jennifer trailed them as Elouise held Owen’s hand all the way to the kitchen. We’ll survive this season, after all. My girl was right. We don’t deserve Sten’s version of things. I can make it to the spring, now. Maybe we all can.
IV
It was the middle of February. Jennifer was shrugging into a second sweater when the doorbell rang. She opened it to find Dr Roulston, bundled up in an expensive parka, his car, still running, in the driveway.
Scowling, she let him in.
‘Good morning,’ he said, pulling off his leather gloves and untying his hood.
Jennifer pushed her feet into her sneakers. ‘Mom’s in the kitchen. Dad’s asleep,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go. Mustn’t be late for school. Rhide might just skin me.’
‘Actually,’ Roulston said, ‘I thought I’d take you. If you thought yesterday was cold…’
Jennifer pulled on her coat. ‘Wasted trip. I’m walking.’
Her mother arrived. Roulston smiled. ‘Good morning, Elouise. How are you doing?’
Elouise nodded, looking from Jennifer to the doctor and back again.
‘I was offering Jennifer a lift,’ Roulston said. ‘It’s the coldest day on record. Been a nasty month altogether, wouldn’t you say?’
‘You’ll give up sooner or later,’ Jennifer said. ‘My mother the mute. Doesn’t want to talk ever again. It’s more convenient that way. For her, at least.’
‘We need to talk, Jennifer. You and I. That’s why I’m driving you to school. It’s better if you don’t make a fuss, don’t you think?’
‘“Wouldn’t you say?” “Don’t you think?” Do you need an opinion on everything, Doctor?’ Jennifer stared at him, then her shoulders slumped. ‘Oh, all right. What the fuck.’
‘Goodbye for now,’ Roulston said to her mother. ‘If it’s okay, I’ll drop by later this morning.’
She nodded.
Jennifer followed Roulston out to the car. ‘I like walking,’ she said as she opened the passenger door and climbed in. ‘It’s the only fresh air there is. The whole fucking school stinks of hot metal and dust and oil. Everybody’s climbing the walls in there.’
‘Buckle up.’
‘Christ.’
‘It’s become obvious,’ Roulston said as he backed the car out, ‘that your father is making no progress.’
‘Really? But he hasn’t hit anything in months. I figured the way he cleaned himself up for your surprise Sunday visits had you convinced.’
‘Anne’s a lot sharper at this than I am, Jennifer. She’s seen it all.’ He pulled out on to the road. ‘We’re still very concerned. For you and your mother.’
‘We’re fine. Daddy’s trapped inside his own head. He doesn’t come out any more.’
‘He’s hit bottom, then.’
Jennifer laughed. ‘There is no bottom, Doctor.’
‘How much is he drinking?’
‘No idea.’
‘Come on, Jennifer.’
She shrugged. Three, four beers a day. One gets him drunk – hell, sometimes all he has to do is just look at one and he’s wasted. I’m having a smoke now.’
‘Your idea of fresh air?’
‘Beats the sanctimonious stench in here.’
Roulston pulled the car over at the mailboxes. Traffic rolled past on the highway in front of them. ‘You’re not expected until after morning services. Sanctimonious, that’s a heavy word for a thirteen-year-old.’
‘Fourteen next week. I know the word – I’ve been fed it for long enough. You got a point to all this?’
‘With your mother’s permission, we can have your father committed to a mental institution – I want you to convince her that it’s for the best.’
‘Fuck you, Doctor.’
‘There’s a treatment programme there—’
‘You once said he has to choose, he has to decide to get help all on his own.’
‘There’re indications of mental illness here, Jennifer. I’ve finally acquired his medical records from the insurance company. Your father displays paranoid tendencies. He experienced a trauma years ago, and it’s manifesting itself to this day. He needs therapy, and medication—’
‘What trauma? Let me guess, the day I was born, right? Well, that’s just too bad. Boo hoo.’
Roulston stared – Jennifer felt those blue eyes on her, searching, seeking something. She smoked, watched the traffic stream past.
‘Your birth?’ he asked softly. ‘No, Jennifer. You’re wrong. Your father was a crew foreman. He had an apprentice under him – just a kid, didn’t know anything. Well, the young
man was killed, crushed between two train cars. Your father blamed himself. He had a nervous breakdown. That’s the trauma I’m talking about, Jennifer. You, you were a gift, you helped pull him back – not all the way, it appears, but even so. I thought you knew. Anne assumed you did. Why do you think you’re so important, so vital to all this?’
‘My father’s a drunk, Doctor. Just like his father. He was probably drunk when the guy got killed. I don’t give a shit what happened to him. You and Queen Anne – you’re always looking for excuses, just like my dad, and even if you can’t find them, you just make them up. You’re all the fucking same. The guy tries to bugger his daughter – well, that’s because she’s so special to him—’
‘Is that what happened? Did I hear you right?’
Jennifer rolled down the window and tossed out the cigarette butt. ‘Hear what right, Doctor? Did I say something? Maybe I lied, just to get him into trouble. You can excuse that, can’t you? I’m sure you can. Am I going to school or what?’
‘I think that one just slipped out,’ Roulston said. ‘It wasn’t calculated at all. After all, you don’t want to give us just cause, do you?’ He paused, then sighed. ‘You’re not going to help convince your mother – although you should know, she may not need convincing—’
‘Get real. She likes things the way they are. That much should be obvious. Daddy likes the sound of his own voice. He doesn’t like being interrupted, doesn’t like having his version challenged. She says nothing. Daddy’s happy talking. It’s all perfect. No complaints.’
‘It’s an untenable situation—’
‘No, it isn’t. Now, are you going to drive or do I walk?’
He put the car in gear, then waited for a gap in the traffic. ‘There’re conflicting reports about you from your school,’ he said.
‘Conflict’s my middle name.’
‘Some teachers want you out. Others are just as determined to keep you in. You’ve divided the staff, Jennifer. And I hear – only now – that you have a boyfriend. What does he think about your situation at home?’
‘None of your business, and I don’t give a shit what the teachers think.’
A gap appeared and Roulston pulled the car on to the highway. ‘Do you plan on continuing, through high school at least?’
Jennifer looked out of the side window. ‘Does it matter?’
‘I think it does. To me, it does.’
‘I don’t want to be your special project, Doctor.’
‘Well, you know, I think I’m one of the good guys. I like you. You’ve cut into me on occasion’ – he laughed – ‘like a surgeon, but I can’t help appreciating your intelligence. And some of your teachers say you have talents – music, especially. You used to play piano, didn’t you?’
He swung the car into the parking lot. Jennifer leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes. ‘Doctor, I already have friends. I don’t need any more. If people want to fight about me, that’s their problem, not mine. I’m tired of being jerked around like a puppet – by you, by Rhide, by everyone. Everyone does it, except my friends. Do you see the difference, Doctor?’ She opened the door and stepped out into the bitter cold.
‘I’ll keep trying, Jennifer!’ Roulston called out as she closed the door.
‘Brother,’ she sighed, heading towards the entrance. She stopped halfway. Someone had spray-painted the glass doors, and down the entire length of the new building’s front wall. Bright red paint, easily a whole can’s worth.
NOT ME NOT ME NOT ME –the words repeated dozens of times, inside circles, wavy boxes, hearts, star shapes. NOT ME NOT ME and FUCK OFF RHIDE and FUCK OFF THOMPSON, BITCH RHIDE, FUCKER THOMPSON, OWEN AND JENNIFER FOR EVER – LEAVE US ALONE, NOT ME NOT ME NOT ME …
Roulston’s car door slammed. Jennifer turned to him, watched his face harden as he read the graffiti. Then he looked at her.
‘I’d be smarter,’ Jennifer said.
‘I believe you.’
‘So would Owen. He can draw. He knows how to draw.’
‘Let me park the car,’ Roulston said. ‘I’ll come in with you.’
‘Why?’
‘I think you could do with an ally. Not a friend – I got your meaning. I understood you, Jennifer. But an ally – will you accept that?’
Jennifer looked back at the school. ‘I haven’t got much choice. Again.’
‘Wait there,’ he said, jumping back into the car.
She walked up to the smoky glass doors and leaned against them. Lynk. Rhide’s darling. He got clean away with the candle factory. Now this. No way to prove it. We’re fucked. We’ll be expelled. Sorry, Owen. This isn’t right.
‘Let’s face the music,’ the doctor said as he came to her side.
They entered the school. ‘Never mind going to class,’ Jennifer said, removing her coat. ‘Straight to the office, I think.’
‘You’re the expert,’ Roulston said, trying a grin.
Mrs Reynolds looked up as they entered the office, her expression grave. The conference room door was closed.
Roulston introduced himself.
Mrs Reynolds nodded, her eyes on Jennifer. ‘Real trouble this time, Jenny. The police are on the way.’ She rose. ‘I’ll inform Principal Thompson that you’re here. He’s presently speaking with Owen, awaiting the boy’s mother.’ She headed to the door, knocked, then stepped inside, closing it behind her.
‘It’s not fair,’ Jennifer said. ‘We’re not stupid. We wouldn’t sign our names, for Christ’s sake.’
Roulston picked up the phone on Mrs Reynolds’s desk.
‘What are you doing?’ Jennifer demanded.
‘Calling the hospital. This may take the whole morning.’
‘Thompson will say it’s none of your business and kick you out.’
‘We’ll see. Don’t worry, I won’t call Anne. I suspect the police will do that if they deem it necessary.’ He dialled, then began speaking to his nurse.
The conference room door opened. ‘You can go in,’ Mrs Reynolds said.
Owen was alone with Thompson, looking ashen, in shock. Jennifer sat down beside him while Roulston introduced himself.
Thompson was quick to the punch. ‘I’m not sure I see your relevance here, Doctor. No offence, but this is a school matter, and a police matter.’
‘Jennifer is in my care, Mr Thompson. With her situation at home, I’ve assumed the role of guardian. Her mother has agreed to this in writing – you should have that in your records, by the way. As I understand it, this boy’s mother is on her way here. I will act for Jennifer in a similar capacity.’
Thompson’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ll assume financial responsibility as well?’
‘I didn’t realise you’ve already concluded their culpability. Have you wrung out a confession from this young man, then?’
Thompson was silent, his expression belligerent.
‘Frankly,’ Roulston went on, ‘it seems to me rather naive to assume that these two are in any way responsible. They’re the intended targets, obviously. That, of course, is my point. It’s clumsily done, wouldn’t you say? Do you actually think they’d write their own names on the wall?’
The two cops arrived then. Constable this, Constable that. They sat down and listened quietly while Thompson talked – one of them listening, the other taking notes.
‘There have been difficulties with these two,’ Thompson said, indicating her and Owen, ‘all year, specifically with myself and their homeroom teacher, Miss Rhide, who was so upset by this incident that I sent her home for the day. It’s my belief that these two are the culprits.’
One of the cops faced Owen. ‘Did you spray-paint the wall, son?’
‘No.’
He then turned to Jennifer.
‘No,’ she said before he could even repeat the question. ‘We’re not stupid.’
The cop frowned, then he sat back and said to Thompson, ‘Any evidence pointing to them?’
‘Well, only what I’ve told you. Motive, I guess.’
/> Jennifer rolled her eyes. ‘This isn’t some crime show,’ she said. ‘It’s pretty obvious someone wants to get me and Owen into trouble.’
‘He can’t draw,’ Owen said.
The same cop turned to him. ‘Who can’t draw?’
‘The one who painted the wall.’
‘I think you know who that might be, don’t you?’
Thompson cleared his throat. ‘I remain convinced—’
Roulston rose and said to the other cop, ‘Why don’t the three of us talk in the principal’s office. Mr Thompson?’ He then laid a hand on Jennifer’s shoulder and leaned down slightly. ‘You’ll be fine here on your own for a few minutes?’
‘Yeah, no problem.’
The second cop, Thompson and Roulston left the room.
As soon as the door closed, Owen said, ‘I’m guessing, sir, and there’s no way to prove it.’
‘Lynk Bescher,’ Jennifer said, knowing her face was flushed with anger. ‘The little shit. He hates Owen, and he’s jealous ’cause we’re going together.’
Owen’s eyes were wide. ‘Lynk?’ he said. ‘I was thinking Gary.’
‘Who’s Gary?’ the cop asked, looking intrigued.
‘I had a fight with him,’ Owen explained. ‘First day of school.’
‘Owen kicked him in the balls. End of fight, end of Gary. Yeah, he hates Owen, too. But he’s even stupider than Lynk. Maybe they did it together. But Lynk’s the one, only he’s Rhide’s favourite—’
‘Rhide,’ the cop cut in. ‘That’s your teacher?’
‘Yeah,’ Jennifer nodded. ‘Lynk’s sucked her in. He’ll deny it, and there won’t be any proof.’
The cop sighed. He opened his mouth to say something but just then the door flew open and Owen’s mother arrived, her face dark.
‘Let’s go, Owen. You too, Jennifer.’
‘A moment please,’ the cop said, rising.
‘Sit down, sir!’ Susan snapped. ‘Take a minute to think things through—’
‘Wait!’ the cop said, holding up his hands. ‘I agree with you! We were just trying to work out who has it in for these two. So please, relax. Join us. Calm down, Mrs—?’
‘Brand. Owen’s mother.’ She unbuttoned her coat and sat down. ‘I’m sorry, but Principal Thompson seemed convinced—’