The House We Called Home Page 4

  Jack turned as well, taking in the scene. ‘Do you think he might have something to do with those jeans as well?’

  Stella laughed. Relieved at the joke.

  Jack put his arm around her. ‘We’ll find him,’ he said, all solid and sure.

  Stella didn’t reply. She couldn’t. She had the same rising sensation she’d had in the car, that it was all too much, like she might suddenly burst into tears which was not something she could let happen. Especially not in front of her mother. Or Sonny for that matter. And what would she be crying about anyway? Certainly not the disappearance of a man who’d basically cut her out of the family photo album. She was just tired.

  A phone beeped in the kitchen. Her mum went over to read the message. ‘Your sister’s train arrives at about six she says.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Stella looked up, eyes wide, caught completely unawares. ‘I’d forgotten about Amy.’

  Jack wrinkled up his brow as if the workings of her mind continually baffled him. ‘How could you forget about Amy?’

  CHAPTER 5

  ‘No, I just can’t find it.’ Amy rummaged through her bag for the umpteenth time. ‘It’s not here. I did buy one though. I did, I promise. I just …’ She trailed off, searching through her bag, her hair straighteners, her phone charger, her teddy. She pushed that hastily to the bottom of the bag.

  She could feel Gus next to her, watching.

  The ticket inspector loomed above her seat. ‘Sorry madam, failure to show a valid ticket for a journey means I’m going to have to charge you a penalty fare.’

  ‘No, you can’t.’ Amy shook her head. The flicks of blonde catching on her cheeks. She pushed the short hair back behind her ears, she was no closer to getting used to it. Why in films they always showed someone getting a haircut to start a new life was beyond her. It was a bloody pain in the neck – learning how to style it, straighten it, stop it from being a giant fluffball on her head. She hated it.

  She leant forward for another rifle. The hair flopped forward. She held it back with one hand. ‘Honestly, you can’t charge me again. My father’s gone missing,’ she said, pushing pairs of pants out of the way.

  She thought she heard Gus scoff and looked across to glower at him but his expression was innocently bemused.

  ‘Are you going to help me?’ she hissed under her breath.

  He shook his head. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘I don’t know? Talk to the man.’

  ‘You seem to be doing a very good job of talking to the man. He says you have to pay a penalty fare.’

  ‘But I bought a ticket.’ She sat back in her seat. ‘Seriously, I did. I could get my bank details up on my phone and show you.’

  ‘Sorry, madam, I’m being generous here. Last month it was zero tolerance – would have had to escort you from the train at the next stop.’

  Amy put her hands up to her head.

  ‘Just pay it,’ said Gus, one hand holding his tiny takeaway espresso cup, the other some obscure-looking comic book.

  ‘No.’ Amy felt suddenly like she might cry. Gus was looking at her all superior through his big black glasses like he couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t just do what the man had said. ‘No.’ She looked up at the ticket inspector. His face possibly kindly. His bald head reflecting the strip lighting. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘Please, I did buy a ticket. This is a nightmare day for me. I’m going home because my dad’s gone missing. I’m not thinking straight. My emotions are all over the place,’ she sighed, pushed her stupid short hair back, ‘because I’m pregnant. And,’ she sighed again, ‘well, you don’t need to know everything about it, but let’s just say it’s not ideal and I did buy a ticket, I promise I did, because the man at the counter I remember thinking looked like Father Christmas and he gave me a toffee.’ She reached into her pocket, eyes welling up. ‘Look, see here,’ she held up the shiny wrapper of the Werther’s Original. ‘See, this is the wrapper.’ She nodded, trying to elicit a response. She could see the people around her shifting in their seats as they uncomfortably tried to listen and not listen at the same time. ‘Do you see?’ she said, brandishing the tiny crinkle of gold. ‘And I nearly threw it away but I didn’t because I liked that he’d given it to me.’ She put her hands up to her eyes to wipe away the first spill of tears. ‘Do you see?’ she said again, voice plaintive, nodding at him and wiping her face while also trying to find a tissue in her jacket pocket.

  The ticket man seemed to think for a second, then reaching into his own pocket brought out a brand new Kleenex. ‘That would be Geoff,’ he said. ‘Santa Claus with the toffees.’

  Amy blew her nose. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, Geoff.’ She had no idea what his name had been.

  ‘OK,’ he said, tapping something into the machine that hung round his neck and handing her a replacement ticket. ‘Just this once.’

  Amy put her hand on her chest. ‘Oh thank you, thank you so much.’

  He nodded. ‘I hope you find your father.’

  Amy nodded.

  ‘And that everything works out with the baby.’

  She nodded again, wiping her eyes, clutching the new ticket.

  The ticket inspector walked away down the aisle and into the next compartment.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Gus, flopping back in his seat, shaking his head, dumbfounded. ‘That was unbelievable.’

  ‘What?’ Amy said, blowing her nose.

  ‘That you just managed to get away with that.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Yes, you do. That— That little-girl-lost routine. That was unbelievable. How old are you?’

  Amy looked at him affronted. ‘You don’t ask a woman that question.’

  ‘But you ask a little girl.’ Gus raised a brow.

  ‘Why are you so horrible?’

  ‘Why are you so like that?’ he said, gesturing to the tissue and the ticket and the blotchy face. ‘Normal people just pay the fine when it’s their fault they lost the ticket. Look at what you put that poor guy through.’

  ‘He was kind to me,’ Amy snapped, feeling like she was under attack.

  ‘Yeah, and you made him feel really awkward.’

  ‘I did not.’

  ‘You think it wasn’t awkward? You crying about your whole life history?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about this any more with you.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right.’ Gus snorted a laugh. ‘That’s your answer. Very mature. I’m delighted that you’re about to be the mother of my child.’

  Amy gasped. ‘How dare you?’

  Gus blew out a breath. ‘How dare I?’ He shook his head, turning to look out of the window, closing his eyes for a second longer than necessary.

  Amy felt a rush of resentment, it made her want to do something to him – flick his coffee over or maybe pinch his arm. But she sat seething instead, trying to get her hair to stay tucked behind her ear. Gus took a slurp of espresso and went back to his book all aloof.

  ‘Well at least I don’t read picture books,’ Amy sniped, immediately regretting the comment, immediately realising she’d made herself look even more of a fool.

  Gus turned his head slowly as if deigning to address her. ‘What, you mean this Eisner Award-winning graphic novel?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘You stick to your Grazia, Amy.’

  ‘There is nothing wrong with Grazia.’ Amy wanted to take her new ticket and stab his eyes out with it. ‘It’s very issue-led.’

  Gus smirked. ‘I’ll look out for it on the Pulitzers.’

  ‘I’ll look out for it on the Pulitzers,’ Amy repeated, all whiny and childish.

  ‘That’s very grown up. Again, mother of child, very glad.’

  ‘I hate you.’

  ‘Rest assured, the feeling is mutual.’

  CHAPTER 6

  Just pulling up in front of the house in the taxi made Amy feel better: the sweep of purple sunset like smoke out of the chimney, the sparkle of the solar-powered fairy lights wrapped round t
he almond tree just visible in the early evening light, and the big hydrangea flowers like perfect pink balloons. The gravel underfoot gave the same comforting crunch as it had her whole life. She just had to block out the crunch of Gus’s feet next to her. As she put her key in the lock she could already picture the dark cosy hallway, smell the roast dinner from the kitchen, see the flicker of the TV, and a fire in the front room.

  Except it was summer and there was no fire. And she’d forgotten her mother had had the entire ground floor demolished. When Amy left last it had still been a building site. Now, as she opened the door, she saw it was all pale and grand and open. She swallowed. Everyone was looking up from where they sat in the living room, watching. There was no time to take a breath in the hallway any longer or peek her head round the door and beckon her mother over.

  ‘Er, hello,’ Amy said, conscious of the presence of Gus next to her and everyone staring. ‘Have you found Daddy?’

  Moira stood up. ‘No darling, not yet. We’re about to make a plan.’

  Amy nodded. She felt suddenly on the verge of tears, like she wanted to throw herself at her mother and sob about everything, but in defiance of Gus and his already derogatory opinion of her she stayed rooted where she was.

  ‘Hi.’ Gus raised a hand.

  ‘Hello,’ Stella said back from where she sat at the table, watching intrigued and looking all cool and relaxed in a loose black sleeveless shirt, the plainest gold hoop earrings, skinny jeans and bare feet. Amy saw her glance across at Jack. Jack raise a brow back at Stella. Their silent language asking, ‘Who the hell is he?’

  ‘This is Gus. My—’ Amy paused by mistake because the word friend got stuck in her throat.

  ‘Just a friend,’ said Gus, which sounded so ridiculously unnatural that it made Amy want to cover her face as she blushed scarlet under her hastily retouched contouring. Stella was clearly holding in a smirk.

  ‘Hello darling. Hello Gus, lovely to meet you. You must be exhausted from the journey, it’s such a long time to sit on a train. Come in, sit down, have a drink.’ Moira stood up, glossing over any awkwardness regards this stranger in their midst, and came over to greet the pair.

  Gus dumped his bag by the stairs and went to take the beer that Jack was pouring like he’d never needed anything more in his life. Moira gave Amy a kiss and a hug and whispered in her ear, ‘Will you be sharing a room?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Amy snapped.

  ‘Righto,’ said her mother. Then turning back to Stella said, ‘Rosie and Sonny are OK to share, aren’t they?’

  ‘Oh, no way!’ Sonny moaned.

  Stella nodded. ‘They’re fine.’

  Rosie giggled.

  Amy went and sat down at the table across from Stella, refusing to meet her eye, even when Stella kicked her under the table.

  ‘Beer, Amy?’ Jack asked.

  ‘No, I’ll just have water. I’m really thirsty,’ she replied.

  After some pleasantries about how warm the weather was, the length of the train journey, and how long it had been since they’d all seen each other – how terrible it was that someone had to go missing in order for them all to make the journey – Jack cleared his throat and said, ‘Right, shall we get started on a plan of action?’

  Stella nodded.

  Jack opened the pad that was in front of him then looked up at Amy to explain what had been discussed in her absence. ‘We thought it might be a good idea to note down all Graham’s usual spots. Places he goes most often. Then tomorrow go round and have a word with people. See if he mentioned where he was going, just get a sense of how he was. That kind of thing. Yes?’

  Amy nodded. ‘Have you rung his friends?’

  ‘A few,’ said Moira.

  ‘Why not all of them?’ Amy frowned.

  ‘I’ve been busy.’ Moira shifted in her seat.

  Amy glanced perplexed at Stella, who just raised a shoulder to show she knew and agreed with whatever it was Amy was thinking but who knew what forces governed their mother.

  Gus watched.

  Amy said, ‘Mum, you’ve tried to ring Dad, haven’t you?’

  ‘Of course I’ve tried to ring him. And I’ve sent a text asking where he is.’

  ‘A text? I rang his phone twenty-three times on the train,’ Amy said.

  ‘It’s not a competition, darling,’ Moira muttered, turning away to top up her wine with obvious affront.

  ‘OK!’ Jack held up his hands to try and take back control. ‘We talk to his friends, see what he’s been doing and if anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary. Good. Right. Moira, have you checked your bank account?’

  ‘I don’t see when you think I’ve had the time to do all these things.’ Moira shook her head.

  Stella leant forward. ‘No one’s accusing you, Mum. Jack’s just asking.’

  ‘I know.’ Moira crossed her arms over her chest, then through pursed lips added, ‘I can pop into the bank tomorrow.’

  ‘Could you do it online now, Mum?’ Stella asked.

  ‘No, I can’t.’ Moira blushed. ‘I don’t know how. Graham does all that.’

  Jack said, ‘Well we can help, do you know the passwords?’

  Moira hesitated.

  Amy said, ‘Don’t worry, Mum, I never know mine either. That’s why I have them all written down in my phone.’ She saw Gus shake his head at what a stupid thing that was to do. She made a face at him which she instantly regretted when she caught Stella looking.

  Moira was getting flustered. Smoothing down her silk blouse, she said, ‘I know I should know them. It’s just something I haven’t quite got round to. There is something written down in the kitchen, though, I think. Hang on, let me have a look.’ She got up to go and rifle through a flowery Cath Kidston box file on the counter.

  Jack wrote ‘Account activity’ down as the first point on his list.

  Amy leant forward and said, ‘Shouldn’t we be calling all the hospitals and the coastguard and things? We need to be certain he’s not hurt.’

  ‘Amy, he left a note,’ Stella said, one mocking brow arched, ‘I don’t think he’s hurt.’

  ‘What if he was made to write the note?’ Amy replied, brows raised back at Stella, defiant.

  Stella scoffed. ‘Like a hostage? Please.’

  Amy refused to be ignored so easily. ‘Don’t look at me like that, someone might have taken him. It’s a real possibility. I think it should go on the list.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Stella shook her head. ‘It’s not Murder, She Wrote, Amy! It’s Cornwall.’

  Gus snorted into his beer. Stella looked up, appreciative of his finding her funny. Then sat back with her wine, giving her long fringe a smug little blow out of her eyes.

  Amy huffed.

  ‘Here they are. The passwords. I knew I had them somewhere,’ Moira called from the kitchen, brandishing a scrap of notepaper covered in numbers.

  Amy pulled off the thin sweater she was wearing, feeling hot and bothered from the stand-off with her sister.

  ‘I have that top!’ shouted little Rosie, pointing excitedly at Amy’s Primark vest top patterned with different emojis. ‘Mummy, don’t I have that top?’

  Amy watched Stella nod as she sipped her wine. ‘You do have that top, Rosie,’ she said, as if of course Amy and a seven-year-old would have the same fashion sense.

  ‘We’re T-shirt buddies,’ Rosie said, coming over and draping her skinny little arm round Amy’s shoulders, then peering closer to inspect her face said, ‘I like your make-up. You’re so pretty. You look just like Zoella.’

  Amy felt the conflicting rush of both embarrassment and pride at what she considered a compliment. In the past she would have just snuggled Rosie up close and relished the adoration. But now she had Gus smirking under his breath at the end of the table. And something made her want Stella not to perceive her as quite such a child. Perhaps because Amy knew at some point she was going to have to tell them all about the baby. And she couldn’t face the accompanying looks of pity
and the ‘Oh Amy!’ tone. But most of all she dreaded their lack of surprise that she would do something so stupid. It had made her contemplate just WhatsApping the news: ‘It was a one-night stand! Can you believe it? And when I told Gus he was like, “You’re not having it, right?” [crying laughing emoji]’

  But it wasn’t funny.

  It was terrifying.

  It was hard to say if it was more terrifying now or earlier today when she had been standing on Gus’s North London doorstep delivering the news. She’d only remembered where he lived because it was above a Nando’s. He had winced when she’d told him. His expression as if it were possibly the worst news he had ever heard in his entire life. She had thought he might react badly but not like that. She had presumed he would usher her inside, make her a cup of tea and ask what he could do to help. Not stand in the hallway, his expression somewhere between panic and disgust and say, ‘Do you need money? How much is an abortion?’

  ‘I am not having an abortion.’ Her phone had rung as she’d spat out the words. ‘Oh, hi Mum!’

  Then her already trembling bottom lip had gone into full-blown wobble as her mother told her about her dad going missing. Meanwhile Gus was pacing the tiny, hot hallway, rolling his hands as if hurrying her to wrap the conversation up so they could get back to more important matters.

  ‘I have to go,’ she said to Gus as soon as she’d hung up.

  ‘Oh no you don’t. We have things to discuss.’

  ‘Well I have to go home.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘It’s in Cornwall.’

  ‘I won’t come with you.’

  ‘Good.’ Amy had stormed out of the dark poky little flat onto the high street, taking in deep breaths of warm sunshine air and traffic fumes. She made her mind up she would never ever see Gus again. Good riddance. She’d block him on any dating app or social media if he tried to contact her.

  ‘Wait!’

  She paused. Turned. Deflated at the sight of Gus jogging lankily towards her in his stupid bright green shorts and old Levi’s T-shirt. ‘What?’ she snapped.