Paradise End Page 2

  I said, ‘OK then. Bye,’ and I started to move away.

  ‘Bye,’ she said softly, but then, when I’d only gone about five steps, she called out, ‘You wouldn’t like a game of tennis, would you? It’s hopeless trying to practise on one’s own.’

  I stopped and turned back. The meaning of what she’d said, the idea that I might actually be able to walk through those gates, that had been shut against me all my life, was making my heart jump about inside my chest.

  ‘I’m useless at tennis,’ I said, feeling breathless. ‘I always whack the balls into the net when we play at school.’

  She laughed awkwardly.

  ‘Oh. Do you – I mean, would you like to come and see the tennis court anyway? It might inspire you or something.’

  I’d never thought I was much good at reading people’s minds, and I was all taken up with my own feelings, but I could tell that she was lonely. It stuck out a mile. She might have been grand, and rich, and have brilliant clothes, but the cards weren’t all stacked on her side. I had something she wanted, that I could give or keep back: company.

  ‘OK,’ I said, trying to sound casual. ‘Just for a bit. I can’t stay long though.’

  Then she pressed a hidden button on the inside of one of the pillars, and the gates swung open, and I walked through them, into her life.

  2

  It was the weirdest thing I’d ever done, walking up the gravel drive towards the front of Paradise End. Later, when my dream of the house had faded and I knew the real one so well, my love for it almost scared me, but that day I was nervous more than anything else. The blank windows of the long facade looked down like disapproving eyes, and I was terrified that the door would open, and someone would come out and shout at me, to send me packing like a naughty child.

  I thought we were about to go in through the front door, but the girl veered off to the right before we reached the pillars and the tubs, with their little sentry trees. We went so close to the long windows that I wanted to creep past on tiptoe, like a trespasser, in case someone was watching us from inside. I had to make myself walk normally.

  We reached the corner of the house and went round it on to the terrace. It was very long, and was made of soft old stone. A flight of wide stone steps swept down from the terrace to acres of lawn below. Masses of brightly coloured flowers spilled out of the flower-beds below the terrace. It was all a million times more beautiful than I’d ever imagined.

  I couldn’t help gasping.

  ‘I didn’t know it was so huge,’ I said. ‘You’d never guess it was like this from the outside. It’s totally, totally amazing.’

  She was holding a strand of her blonde hair, twisting it round in her fingers, watching me. I was afraid I’d sounded silly and gushy, like a tourist or something, so I tried to look bored.

  ‘Terrible lot of work, keeping all this up,’ I said grandly. ‘Who cuts the grass? Your dad?’

  ‘The gardeners do it,’ she said carelessly.

  A hot blush swept up my cheeks. I felt stupid, angry with her and furious with myself.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, dropping her hand from her hair. ‘I’ll show you the tennis court.’

  She jumped down the terrace steps and didn’t stop when she reached the bottom, but ran across the lawn with her hair streaming out behind her. I raced after her, glad not to have to talk, and we burst through the rim of trees and turned left behind the house. And I stopped dead and stared, and my mouth fell open in spite of myself.

  It wasn’t the tennis court I was looking at (which as far as I could see was just the usual sort), but the swimming pool in front of it. The glittering blue water stretched away to a kind of summer house at the far end, where there were basket-work chairs and sofas. There were bushes round the edge of the pool, so that it looked natural, as if it had started off as a formal kind of pond. The house was reflected in the water, and was a sharp, bright white, as perfect as a wedding cake.

  ‘Wow,’ was all I could say.

  ‘Do you like it?’ the girl said, looking at me with those sea-green eyes.

  I couldn’t read her expression. I was wary, afraid I’d say something else that would give her the chance to smile. I felt a spurt of resentment.

  ‘Of course I like it,’ I snapped. ‘Who wouldn’t? You wouldn’t bother to ask if you lived in a three-bedroom semi like me.’

  She blushed scarlet and tossed the hair off her face with a flick of her head.

  I’ve embarrassed her, I thought. Good.

  ‘Who does all this belong to then?’ I said, feeling bolder. ‘Your dad? The one who doesn’t do any gardening?’

  ‘No, it’s my uncle’s and my mother’s.’ Her voice sounded remote. ‘Daddy lives in Argentina, in Buenos Aires. My parents are divorced.’

  ‘Oh.’

  I didn’t know what to say. I felt like someone walking across a swamp on stepping stones. One false move and you’re up to your neck in mud.

  We stood in silence for a moment, then I realized what had been puzzling away at the back of my head.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ I said. ‘How come your tennis balls went out into the road? The gates are miles from here, right round the other side of the house.’

  ‘You can’t bounce balls off anything round here,’ she said, looking embarrassed. ‘It’s easy at the front. The garage wall’s brilliant for practice.’

  She was still holding her tennis racket and she began to swing it, as if she was practising her strokes. She didn’t fool me though.

  You weren’t bothered about your tennis, I thought, feeling a sort of triumph. You were just hanging about, waiting for someone to come past who you could talk to.

  The thought made me feel more confident.

  ‘I’d better be going,’ I said, looking at my watch.

  ‘Why? You’re not in a hurry, are you?’ She spoke quickly, as if she was looking for something to say, so that she could keep me there.

  ‘No.’ I stopped. I wanted to say something that would impress her, but I couldn’t think of anything. ‘I was only going for a bit of a walk.’

  ‘A walk? Where to?’

  ‘I don’t know. Through the village. Down to the river maybe.’

  She looked envious.

  ‘You are lucky. No one ever lets me go out on my own. I’ve never gone for walks. I’ve never been able to explore at all.’

  I stared at her. I know every tree, every hedge and every fence-post round here. If you put me down a mile from our house in any direction I’d walk straight home, I reckon, just by feeling the way with my toes.

  I shrugged.

  ‘You haven’t missed much. Canningtree’s not exactly the trendiest place in the whole wide world.’

  I looked at my watch again. Time had whizzed past. I’d wanted Mum to get worried, but I hadn’t wanted her to get into a frenzy and start phoning the hospital. I began to walk back round the house towards the terrace that would take me out to the front again. She walked beside me. I heard her take a deep breath, then she said. ‘Could – I mean, can I come to your house some time?’

  Awful snapshots flashed through my head – our scrubby little patch of garden with the broken plastic climbing frame and Dad’s underpants hanging on the washing-line, Sam’s smelly trainers on the mat inside the back door, Mum’s sharp voice telling everyone to damn well come and eat their supper before it froze right over, Lauren’s awful baby-doll stuff scattered all over our bedroom floor.

  ‘I dunno. Sometime maybe,’ I said.

  We reached the gates. I looked at the back of the pillar for the button that would open them.

  ‘Hey,’ said the girl, ‘I never asked your name.’

  It was funny, but at that moment I almost didn’t want to tell her. I had a feeling that if I didn’t we’d never see each other again, and it might be better, that we both ought to stay in our own worlds and keep out of each other’s hair. But she was smiling at me, waiting for me to answer, and there were these dimples in her cheek
s, and she looked so friendly and hopeful that I suddenly knew I liked her. She wasn’t one bit like the usual people I went around with, but I wanted her to be my friend. I really, really did.

  ‘It’s Carol Mary McQuarrie,’ I said. ‘You can call me Carly, but not Mac. I hate Mac. What’s yours?’

  ‘Anastasia.’

  ‘Ana what?’

  ‘Actually, it’s Anastasia Lucille Braithwaite Krukovsky.’

  She looked almost defiant for a moment, and I could see she was watching for my reaction. I was impressed, to be honest, but I’d have died rather than show it. I suppose I was trying to think of something else to say, to cut her down to size, but I didn’t need to, because she did it to herself. She shrank right down again, in front of my eyes, and now her look was questioning and anxious, as if she was afraid I was annoyed with her.

  ‘You can call me Tia,’ she said a bit nervously, as if she was trying to make a joke of it and didn’t quite know how I’d take it. ‘But not Annie. I can’t abide Annie.’

  I smiled at that, and she smiled back, and we were both grinning at each other full on as the gates swung open.

  ‘I’ve got to go, really’ I said, ‘or Mum’ll do a total number on me.’

  ‘OK,’ she said as the gates swung shut behind me. ‘Awfully nice to have met you, Carly’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You too, Tia.’

  I raced home. I’d forgotten about the row with Mum and Lauren. I was just dying to tell someone about Paradise End and Tia.

  Mum was waiting for me, her face like a thundercloud.

  ‘Don’t you dare do that to me again, ever,’ she burst out, her cheeks going bright red as I came in through the back door. ‘Running out on me like that. I’ve been worried sick. Had visions of you under a car, lost, attacked ...’

  She stopped, and I thought she was going to cry. I felt mean.

  ‘Sorry, Mum.’ I wanted to whip up a bit of the anger I’d felt before, to make her see why I’d had to rush out, but I couldn’t feel it any more.

  ‘Where have you been?’ her voice came out as a wail.

  Lauren had appeared now. Trust her to shove her nose in.

  ‘We thought you’d been got by a pervert,’ she said, sounding disappointed.

  I ignored her.

  ‘I only went for a walk,’ I said.

  It was funny I’d been bursting to tell Mum everything a minute ago, but now I didn’t want to. Back in our kitchen, with the untidy heap of ironing on the table, and all the dirty dishes heaped up on the draining board, Paradise End seemed as distant as the moon.

  ‘I know where you went,’ Lauren said spitefully. ‘You went down by the river, where Mum said not to go.’

  She can always do it to me, Lauren can. She can always wind me up. I hadn’t been able to feel angry a moment before, when I’d almost wanted to, but now I could feel myself start to boil.

  ‘Get her out of here, Mum,’ I pleaded. ‘Tell her to shut it.’

  To my surprise, Mum did turn on Lauren.

  ‘That was quite unnecessary,’ she said. ‘Go and tidy up the mess you’ve made in the sitting room.’

  Lauren sidled towards the kitchen door, then stopped.

  ‘Go on,’ Mum said, losing interest in her.

  Lauren went slowly out through the door, but I knew she was standing in the hall, listening. I didn’t care any more. I knew I’d won that round.

  Mum was putting the kettle on.

  ‘Carly, you know I’ve told you, time and again, that it’s not safe by the river. Janice Harding got flashed there last year, and those two girls from the holiday cottages . . .’

  That did it.

  ‘Mum!’ I felt like exploding. ‘Read my lips: I – did – not go to the river.’ I stopped, trying to shake my fury off. ‘Why do you always listen to Lauren? Spiteful little cat. She never, never stops stirring it.’ I heard a shuffling noise outside the door and raised my voice. ‘Go on, you. You heard Mum. Go and tidy up your crappy stuff and stop listening to other people’s conversations,’ and I marched over to the door and slammed it shut.

  Mum put tea bags into a couple of mugs.

  ‘Where did you go then, love?’ she said, and she just sounded interested, not angry any more, so I gave in and sat down at the table.

  ‘I went to Paradise End,’ I said.

  She was pouring boiling water into the mugs, but her head jerked up and she frowned at me. I was afraid the water would spill and burn her hands.

  ‘What do you mean? Carly, you didn’t try to climb in over the wall?’

  ‘What?’ I couldn’t believe she’d said that. ‘Have you looked at the wall, Mum? It’s about ninety metres high and there’s broken glass all along the top. Look at my hands. No cuts. No scratches. OK?’

  ‘Sorry.’ She fished the tea bags out of the mugs, slopped some milk into them, pushed one over to my side of the table and sat down opposite me, the mug between her hands. ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Well, when I went up the road, I didn’t care where I was going. I was so furious.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ She nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I should have warned you about Lauren going to Miss Tideswell’s class. I knew you’d be upset. I suppose I was putting it off.’

  She reached into the cupboard behind her and pulled out a packet of biscuits. She took one and started nibbling it round the edges. My mum’s thick round the middle, frankly, and a bit short, with a couple of double chins. She knows she ought to resist biscuits. She can’t, but she eats them slowly. It’s as if she thinks her stomach won’t notice if she only sends tiny bits down at a time.

  ‘Go on,’ she said, offering the packet to me.

  ‘Anyway,’ I went on, ‘when I was passing the gates, this girl called out from inside. Asked me to get her tennis balls out from under the car for her.’

  Mum looked interested.

  ‘I thought someone must have moved in. I’ve seen cars going in and out recently’

  ‘Yes, well they have. Anyway, we got talking. She was really nice. She asked me in to look at the tennis court they’ve got in there, so I did. It’s so brilliant. It’s a totally, totally incredible place. She talks posh, but she wasn’t a bit grand, honestly. I thought she was kind of lonely. I really liked her. I mean, she’s really, really nice.’

  I was going over the top, I know, but I didn’t want Mum to get the wrong idea about Tia. She’s fussy about where she lets me go and who she lets me see. I wanted to get her on to Tia’s side. It didn’t work. She was frowning.

  ‘You mean you went in there? On your own? How many times have I told you—’

  ‘Not to go to strange places, get into cars, talk to weirdos, wander down dark lanes in the middle of the night shouting, “Come here all you mad murderers and strangle me.” I know, Mum. But Tia’s my age, and—’

  ‘What did you call her?’

  ‘Tia. Her real name’s Anastasia Lucille something something.’

  ‘Very fancy’ Mum said drily, but I could see she was curious. She leaned forward and took another biscuit. ‘What’s the house like inside? I’ve always wanted to see it. They must have spent a fortune on it.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t go in.’ I wanted to tell her everything now. ‘Just round the outside to the back. It’s huge, Mum, the garden. You’d never believe how much space there is in there. And there’s this swimming pool – it’s unbelievable. I mean, it’s really pretty, made to look like a lake, all wild, with bushes all round it.’

  The door opened and Lauren marched back into the kitchen.

  ‘I can’t tidy up,’ she said. ‘I’m too hungry. I need a biscuit.’

  She reached for the packet. I snatched it up and held it over her head.

  ‘Say please.’

  ‘Don’t, Carly’ said Mum wearily. ‘Just give her one.’

  I lowered the packet slowly. Lauren grabbed it out of my hand.

  ‘You’re making it up about Paradise End,’ she said, her mouth full of biscuit. ‘There ar
en’t any girls living there. Only a mad old miser.’

  ‘You’ve been listening outside the door,’ I said triumphantly. ‘Little sneak.’

  ‘No I haven’t.’ She was looking sideways at Mum though. ‘You talked so loud I could hear you in the sitting room where I was trying to concentrate on tidying up my stuff.’

  Mum and I looked at each other and smiled. Lauren saw. She turned red and stamped her foot.

  ‘It’s true. There aren’t any girls there. Darren told me, and he knows. This miser, he goes round with a gun, shooting at people. And he takes his clothes off in the daytime and shows you his willy. He’s a pervert.’

  ‘That’ll do, Lauren,’ Mum said sharply. ‘I can’t imagine where you get all these silly stories from. Old Joshua Braithwaite died years ago, seventy years at least. And there was nothing wrong with his mind. He’d have been a nicer person if he had been ill, probably. He made a fortune out of coal-mining, working people like slaves. He bought Paradise End, furniture and all, from the family who’d always lived there, but he was too mean to spend a penny on it. His son took it on, and he was just as bad. A horrible man, by all accounts. His wife ran off and left him with twin babies. It must have been more than thirty or forty years ago. Where these mad-pervert stories come from I can’t imagine. Have you tidied your stuff away yet? I’m going to give you five more minutes, and if you haven’t finished by then there’ll be trouble.’

  She stood up, took our empty mugs and turned away to the sink. I waggled my head at Lauren, who stuck her tongue out at me.

  I could tell she was seething with jealousy. It was great.

  3

  Saturday mornings always used to be the same. Up early. Hunt around for my dancing gear. Eat breakfast. Practise in the kitchen (not bad on the vinyl floor). Get sent away by Mum or Dad. Practise in my bedroom. Shout at Lauren for getting in the way. Noise wakes Sam, whose bedroom is next to ours. Get shouted at by Sam for waking him. Get some money off Mum. Rush to the bus stop opposite the war memorial. Trundle into Torminster. Arrive at the Wellesley Community Centre. Run up to Room Three.