Chapter Seventeen
W e made it back to my room whenever we could, which wasn’t often because Mum didn’t go out much, and when she did it was usually when I was at school.
And, while Ethan’s dad worked long hours, his mum was usually at home in the evenings, and Sarah was often there too.
We tried to be creative, but the beach was popular all year round and I didn’t relish the thought of sand getting everywhere , and while we continued to go to the house on the hill, Ethan and I had never been there without the others, and I didn’t want rodents having a ringside seat for our intimate moments.
‘How long until your mum’s back?’ Ethan asked one spring afternoon, my bedroom window open a crack to let in a snake of cool air while we stayed snug under the covers.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, ‘but not long, so we should—’ He moved on top of me, kissed me thoroughly, deftly rolled the condom on.
Being able to do it so infrequently made these moments precious.
We were learning more about each other, and I felt grown-up, having such an intense and – I thought – adult relationship.
Except right then, when I started to lose myself to the sensations rushing up to meet me, and something landed, plonk, on my face.
‘Argh!’ I rubbed my nose and fumbled for the weapon. It was Connor, my cuddly turtle.
Ethan’s mouth was open in surprise, then he dissolved into laughter, burying his head in my neck. ‘OK?’ He leaned up on an elbow and ran his finger gently down my nose. My eyes were watering, but with surprise more than anything else.
‘Feeling stupid,’ I admitted. ‘I should have moved Connor ages ago.’
‘Maybe he’s jealous,’ Ethan said in a low rumble.
‘Shush.’
‘I’ll take your mind off it.’
‘You’d better.’ He did until, a few minutes later, I heard the front door bang and Mum call up the stairs, ‘I’m home, Georgie! I’ll put the kettle on.’
Ethan and I exchanged panicked looks. ‘OK! Be down in a sec!’ Ethan glanced towards the window and I grinned. ‘You don’t need to sneak out like a burglar.’
‘Three teas?’ Mum shouted up, and my grin turned into laughter.
‘Yes please,’ I called down, and Ethan winced. I leaned up and kissed him. ‘I think we have been well and truly busted.’
‘Getting your homework done?’ Mum asked innocently when, ten minutes later, we strolled into the kitchen, aiming for nonchalant. ‘Hello Ethan, lovely to see you.’
‘You too, Mrs Monroe. Have you had a good day?’
‘I got some nice things at the market.’ She pointed to her shopping bags, contents spilling onto the kitchen counter. ‘And please call me Lisa.’
‘Thanks, Lisa.’
She handed him a steaming mug of tea, then passed me one. ‘I got some fish pie bits. Thought I could make that for us tonight. Ethan, there’ll be enough for three, if you fancy staying?’
He raised an eyebrow at me, and I nodded. ‘I’d love to,’ he said, ‘but only if I can help.’
Mum tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘You’re a guest,’ she said, but it was a weak protest.
‘I can peel potatoes,’ Ethan suggested, and when Mum accepted, he shot me a wink and then listened patiently to her instructions about where the peeler was and how many we would need to cover the filling.
The kitchen was barely big enough for two, but the three of us worked around each other.
I sorted Mum’s pills into their relevant organizer boxes at the table, while she and Ethan constructed a fish pie, talking through the stages together, Ethan suggesting horseradish mash for the top.
Mum was in a good mood, her tremors not as pronounced as they often were, and I wanted to take a snapshot: the two most important people in my life getting along.
‘Georgie, I bought a box of chocolates,’ Mum said. ‘Can you see if I’ve left them in my handbag?’
‘Sure.’ I tidied up the pill boxes, putting the instruction leaflets in the green clip in the drawer, and went to find Mum’s bag in the hallway.
I rifled through it, but there were no chocolates in there – unless they were chocolates for Borrowers.
My hand brushed a plastic bag, and I pulled it out, my stomach twisting as I realized what it was.
‘Found them, Georgie?’ Mum called.
I cleared my throat. ‘Still looking!’
It wasn’t a secret that some MS sufferers used weed to lessen the symptoms, and I wasn’t wholly against it.
But after Mum’s last consultation, the doctor had made it clear that any unprescribed drugs could impact the success of the trial she was on.
I felt sick, wondering why she’d got hold of some now, but not sure how to confront her.
I wanted to talk to Ethan about it. He would know what to do, or – at the very least – he would make me feel better about whatever I decided to do.
I didn’t hear his phone ring, but I heard the pad of his footsteps, out of the kitchen and into our living room, ducking away before he reached me.
‘Hey,’ he said, his voice reaching me easily. ‘What?’ His tone sharpened, and the pit in my stomach gnawed. ‘No. Sarah, I can’t.’
There was a pause, and I slid the plastic packet back into Mum’s bag, resting my head against the wall of coats.
‘I’m busy right now, but …’ A sharp inhale.
‘You broke it? You said it was the wing mirror. A broken window doesn’t happen unless you chuck a brick through it, Sarah!
Fuck.’ A shorter pause, and I could sense our perfect evening slipping away.
‘No, you know what Dad will say.’ Ethan’s laugh was humourless.
‘OK, give me ten minutes. Don’t do or say anything, and don’t leave. I’m serious. Yeah. Yes, I know. Bye.’
He walked out into the hall, his hair a mess of tugged strands. He was rubbing the back pocket of his jeans, where he’d kept his cigarettes until I’d asked him to quit.
‘That didn’t sound good,’ I said tentatively.
‘I have to go. Sarah’s got herself in trouble, and I—’
‘You’re going to bail her out?’
‘I’m sorry. I have to.’
‘I know.’ I smiled, even though I was angry that he was running straight to her.
But she was clearly unhappy, and from what Ethan had told me their mum wasn’t that sympathetic; too afraid of their father to stand up to him on Sarah’s behalf.
I just wished Ethan didn’t have to take on all the responsibility.
He ran his hands down my arms and leaned in to kiss me, the gentle goodbye turning into something hotter. He groaned, low and frustrated, then went to make his apologies to Mum.
I waved him off at the door, then watched his silhouette against the sunset, his shoulders hunched as he hurried away from me.
I could hear the waves hitting the sand in the bay, the tide just reaching its highest point, and the seaside scents of slowly cooking fish enveloped me.
A special treat of a dinner that we couldn’t afford very often.
Especially not if Mum was buying weed , a little voice reminded me.
I shut the door and went to join her. She was pushing mashed potato onto the steaming pie mix, an open jar of horseradish on the counter, a dollop sliding down the side of the cabinet.
‘You need to watch that,’ Mum said without turning around.
‘I can clean it up.’ I grabbed the cloth.
She looked sideways at me. ‘No, I mean Ethan. He’s invited to dinner and then – poof! Something more important comes up. Those little instances of unreliability will get more frequent if you’re not careful.’
‘His sister’s in trouble.’ Defensiveness made me grip the cloth too tightly. ‘I’ve told you about Sarah. She’s miserable.’
‘Just make sure he doesn’t take you for granted. I know what that’s like, and I’m living proof that it doesn’t end well. Left high and dry with a five-year-old and barely enough to pay the rent.’
‘I know,’ I said quietly, backing down for the second time in five minutes.
That five-year-old was me, and I’d heard it so often – how hard her life had been once my dad left.
I never got stories about the two of us hanging out together, Mum and daughter having fun without the need for anyone else, or about how her love for me sustained her through the difficult times.
But maybe I’d been spending too much time rereading the Cornish Sands series, where everything was romanticized, with lessons learned and tragedies weathered.
‘You can’t have a proper relationship if you’re hiding things from each other,’ Mum said as she slid the pie into the oven. Before, my stomach had been rumbling with hunger, but now I didn’t want anything.
‘Ethan tells me everything,’ I said, and then, because I couldn’t hold it in, I added, ‘Unlike some people.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Mum turned to face me. She looked exhausted. She’d done too much, and the evening had gone to shit anyway.
‘Nothing.’ Neither of us had the energy for an argument. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
She sighed. ‘I really like Ethan, love, but you’re both so young, and I don’t want you making the mistakes I did.’
‘Ethan’s not a mistake.’
‘I know that, but things like this …’ She trailed off. ‘When he starts over-promising, telling you he’ll make up for it, that it’ll never happen again, that’s when you should worry. He might believe what he’s telling you, but that doesn’t mean you should.’
‘He’s not like Dad. His sister’s in trouble, and he’s looking out for her.’ The thought of my gorgeous, thoughtful boyfriend being some kind of lying womanizer was so ridiculous I wanted to laugh. ‘Why don’t you go and sit down? I’ll make you a fresh tea, put away the last bits of shopping.’
‘Thanks, love.’ Mum gave me a watery smile. ‘The pie needs forty minutes, and I thought we could have some broccoli with it.’
‘OK.’ I returned her smile, my jaw aching with tension.
She squeezed my shoulder as she passed, and I looked around the bomb-site kitchen, at everything there was still to do. It would have been fun with Ethan at my side, a room full of laughter instead of just the hum of the oven.
Dinner was quiet and stilted. I knew Mum wanted to say more about Ethan, because she was deeply paranoid when it came to untrustworthy men, and her protectiveness of me could be stifling. But she kept quiet, and I didn’t mention the weed because I didn’t know how to approach it.
It wasn’t until I’d crawled into bed, the sheets still smelling of him, that Ethan called me.
I picked up immediately. ‘Hey. Are you OK? How’s Sarah?’
‘Not great.’ He sounded tired, and my heart squeezed. ‘But I managed to convince Mr Murray that the broken window was an accident, and we gave him an account so he can claim it on the insurance.’
‘Sarah did it on purpose?’
‘I don’t know what she was thinking, but Mum and Dad are clueless, and that’s the important thing.
’ I didn’t tell him that I thought they should know, because if she got into serious trouble she might realize how much she was hurting other people as well as herself.
‘I’m sorry I had to leave. How was dinner? ’
‘The mash was delicious. I’m sad you missed it: we missed you, too.’
‘Next time,’ he said. ‘I promise I won’t leave again. I could cook you both something, if you like?’
‘Really? You cook? What are your favourite things to make?’
As we talked I rolled onto my side, pulling the duvet up to my ear so we were in a cocoon, just me and him.
Connor the turtle had a new place on my desk, and I snuggled into the pillow, listening to Ethan talk.
I tried not to think about what Mum had said, tried not to let her past disappointments affect how I felt about him.
Sarah was his sister, his family, and his sense of loyalty was one of the things I loved about him.
He had enough room in his heart for both of us.
I wouldn’t be with him if I didn’t believe that was the truth.