Chapter JACK Stratford-upon-Avon
JACK
Stratford-upon-Avon
“Mum?!” Ian’s voice sounds surprised on the other end of the phone.
He probably wasn’t expecting a call from us, especially not at this hour, but Mum wasn’t having any of it. The moment she loaded the last dirty plate into the dishwasher, she grabbed the phone and dialled my brother’s number. Dad didn’t stop her, quite the opposite, in fact.
I suspect they were both worried that if they left it any longer, I’d come up with some excuse to avoid staying at Ian’s place altogether.
Deep down, I know they’re hoping the two of us will spend some time together, maybe to rebuild the bond we used to have as kids, which has grown a bit thin over the past few years.
What they don’t seem to realise is that it was never really my decision.
He’s the one who slowly shut me out of his life, and all I could do was settle for hanging around on the edges, until those edges thinned out so much, I barely know who my brother is anymore.
“Ian, you’re on speaker, love! Dad and Jack are both here with me...” Mum says cheerily.
“Nothing’s happened, has it?” Ian interrupts, suddenly sounding concerned.
“No, no, we’re all fine!” Dad reassures him quickly.
“But we’ve got some good news to share!” Mum jumps back in. “Your brother’s been accepted into the London Contemporary Dance Academy!” she adds excitedly.
“Oh, great, congratulations, Jack! I’m happy for you...”
Despite the kind words, Ian’s tone sounds rather indifferent. Not that I expected anything different; he’s never exactly been blown away by my abilities.
“Ian…” Mum continues, now sounding a little more cautious, “Jack’s also been awarded a full scholarship for the course…”
“Well done, little brother!” he cuts in, this time sounding more interested, but at this point, Dad joins the conversation again.
“Unfortunately, the scholarship doesn’t cover living expenses,” Dad explains. “Of course, Jack will need to find a job, but at least to begin with, your mother and I thought he could stay with you in Chelsea...”
“Absolutely not!” Ian suddenly snaps, taking us all completely by surprise.
No one in this house has ever spoken to Dad like that, least of all Ian.
For a few seconds, we all sit in stunned, tense silence.
And just as I’m about to shoot my parents my usual, I told you so look, my brother clears his throat and mumbles awkwardly: “Sorry, Dad, I… I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“But you did,” Dad replies immediately, his voice cold.
Mum watches him, her face etched with concern.
“You’re right...” Ian admits, before adding: “But I honestly didn’t mean it like that. It’s not that I don’t want you here, Jack…”
Yeah, right, I snort silently in my head, before he continues, “It’s just that I don’t have the space, you know that. There are only three bedrooms and Kit and Ollie live here too…”
“Of course we do, darling...” Mum chimes in sweetly. “But there’s always the sofa!”
There it is, that bloody sofa again!
I press my lips together, biting back what I’d really like to say, as she carries on with her pitch: “You wouldn’t actually leave your little brother out on the street, would you, Ian? It’s only for a few days, after all...”
“Fine, fine!” he finally agrees, and even from here you can hear the frustration in his voice, but for now, he knows full well he hasn’t really got much choice.
As sweet and accommodating as Mum might sound, no one knows better than us kids just how strong her will really is.
Dad mutters his approval, clearly satisfied: “Good. I’m glad you’ve cleared up the misunderstanding, son.”
Yeah, misunderstanding. Right.
I roll my eyes, only to be met by one of Mum’s fiery glares. She doesn’t need to say a word; the message comes through loud and clear.
“Thanks, brother...” I finally say to Ian, using my most accommodating tone, flashing a dazzling smile at both my parents. Then, unable to resist, I add: “I can’t wait to be in London with you!”
I can practically picture my brother stiffening on his sleek black leather sofa, and a wicked little laugh escapes me, though I manage to stifle it just in time to avoid another glare from Mum.
Dad remains blissfully unaware of the undercurrents beneath all the polite words and beaming smiles, and frankly, that’s probably for the best.
“When... when do you think you’ll be arriving?” Ian finally asks, his voice strained. He then quickly adds: “I’ve got an important meeting and I’m already running late, so if you’d rather think it over, we can sort out the details another time...”
“No, no!” I reply at once. “Thanks, but it’s better to get it sorted now. The academic year starts in October, so I’d like to move down as soon as possible, that way I’ve got time to find both a place and a job before classes begin.”
“Uhm...” Even from here, I can almost hear the gears turning in my brother’s refined brain, trying to come up with a way out, but nothing comes.
Ian’s far too clever to waste energy fighting a battle he knows he won’t win, so in the end he mutters: “Alright, little brother… I’ll see you mid next week. Just let me know exactly when you plan to arrive and… don’t expect too much from me, Jack, as you know, I’m very, very busy.”
If he thinks that’s going to make me hesitate, he’s sorely mistaken, I’ve faced far worse than his disapproval.
Mum and Dad say goodbye to him, visibly relieved that, at least for now, the issue of my accommodation has been settled.
They let him get off to his appointment without asking for any more details, not even what this important engagement actually is.
And for a moment, I wonder whether this distance I feel between us is entirely his fault.
But the thought flashes by so quickly it gets lost in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me as I realise, with a strange mix of excitement and terror, that I’m about to move to London.