Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Now
Callie had spent the night staring at the ceiling, replaying every second of Mae’s mouth on hers, every word said between them, every word not said.
Come morning, she looked in the bathroom mirror to see a panda. Out came the concealer. She thought she’d done a pretty good job until she walked into the kitchen and her mother turned and froze.
‘Christ. You look…’
‘Tired?’ Callie suggested.
‘Like shit shovelled up,’ her mum corrected. ‘Are you eating enough?’
Brian peered over the newspaper. ‘She looks fine.’
‘She looks like a ghost,’ Hannah chimed in, swinging her legs under the table. ‘But like, a sad ghost. The ghost of an old lady who died of a broken heart.’
‘Excellent,’ Callie muttered, heading for the coffee. ‘Love being roasted at breakfast.’
Her mum went to touch the back of her neck and then thought better of it. ‘Is everything all right with filming?’
Callie almost said yes because that was easier. But she was too tired to do this dance. ‘Don’t worry, Mum. I get paid even if I look like shit.’
Three pairs of eyes locked on her. Callie took a long gulp of coffee.
‘I never said anything about money,’ her mum said, with a distinct note of warning.
Callie was getting ever more certain that Brian didn’t know she supplemented them. If she won Key to my Heart, that was no problem. If not, there might have to be an awkward conversation.
Well, another one.
Callie’s phone rang. She didn’t even look at the screen. She just answered. ‘Hello?’
‘Callie!’ Neil’s voice almost pierced her skull. ‘Listen, crisis averted. Mae’s on board. We’re all set for the bakery shoot today.’
Callie blinked. ‘We… are?’
‘Yep! She texted at six this morning. No idea what magic you worked, but bless you for it.’
Magic? That was actually a good word for it.
But Callie hadn’t imagined it would be persuasive in terms of getting shooting permission. In fact, Callie had been pretty sure that little kiss had broken any chance of using the place ever again. Or talking to Mae. Or being allowed in the village at all. Maybe even the region.
‘Neil,’ she said slowly, ‘I really didn’t try to—’
‘Doesn’t matter!’ Neil barrelled over her. ‘All that matters is that we can salvage this episode. We owe you big time. Bring your A-game today, yeah? We need sparks.’
‘Sparks,’ Callie echoed flatly.
‘Chemistry. Banter. Cute energy.’
‘Right,’ Callie said. ‘Sorted.’
‘Atta girl. See you in an hour.’ He hung up.
Callie lowered the phone slowly. Her family was staring at her again.
‘Work call?’ Brian asked.
‘Yup,’ Callie replied.
‘Problems?’
‘Not as such,’ Callie said carefully.
Her mum handed her a bacon sandwich. ‘So, it’s all good?’
No, it wasn’t. Because Mae had kissed her. And Mae hated her. Simultaneously.
Callie forced down the sandwich as quickly as she could without dying. ‘I should finish getting ready.’
She turned to leave.
‘Callie?’ Hannah called after her. ‘You should brush your hair. You look like a mop.’
‘Thanks,’ she muttered. Funny how that reminded her of George.
As she walked upstairs to shower, her heart thudded. What the hell was happening? And how was Callie meant to stand in Mae’s bakery, pretending to date Sam, who was very much not the person Callie had kissed last night?
She brushed her mop-like hair, trying to prepare for the day. This was going to be a car crash. A slow, sugar-dusted disaster.
Back Then
Callie still had Mae’s lip balm on her mouth when she got home.
She could taste it faintly every time she licked her lips. Some berry thing Mae kept in her pocket, nothing special. But it tasted like red-hot desire to Callie now.
‘Callie?’ her brother called. ‘That you?’
‘No, it’s the bailiffs,’ she shouted back, hanging her jacket on the one remaining hook that wasn’t bent. ‘Hide your Pokémon cards.’
George appeared in the doorway, hoodie sleeves pulled down over his hands. He was fifteen now, taller than her shoulder-to-shoulder, but still moved like he wasn’t quite sure where his body ended.
‘Mum’s not in,’ he said.
‘Shock me,’ Callie murmured, dropping her bag on the chair.
‘You cooking?’
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ she said with a playful bow.
George’s mouth twitched. ‘Can I have nuggets?’
‘Of course, Your Majesty.’
He laughed.
She went into the kitchen, flicked the light on and surveyed the battlefield. The sink was stacked. She’d have to wash up before she could make food, a thing she always hated. Where was her mother even? She didn’t have a shift today.
Despite the grind, she had a quiet, giddy buzz that had nothing to do with the sticky floor or the pile of laundry sagging in the corner.
Mae under the ash tree. Mae trying to pretend she wasn’t eating a bad crisp. Mae’s lips.
George hovered in the doorway, watching the water swirl in the sink.
‘Mum texted,’ he said. ‘She says she’s not back till later. And she says you have to make sure I eat something green and tidy my room.’
‘She always says that.’
‘I know.’ He paused. ‘I already did my room.’
‘Gold star,’ she said sincerely.
Later, when George was fed with pasta (with a sauce that promised nutrients you couldn’t taste) and a side of nuggets, and exiled to his room to get ready for bed, Callie sat at the small dining table, checking the post, looking for any red bills. Today, none. A good day.
She wanted to text Mae, to send some stupid message about grass stains. Though if she had any nerve, she’d send something about how kissing Mae made her toes curl.
She didn’t send either.
Mae would be with her dad now, she thought. The two of them going over takings, talking about bread or something. But Callie knew Mae didn’t care about the bakery. She was as stuck as Callie.
The front door opened, keys rattling.
‘Kids? You alive?’ her mother called.
‘No, we died,’ Callie said, getting up. ‘George is getting ready for bed.’
Her mother came in, kicking her shoes off as she went.
‘Long shift?’ Callie asked, perched on the armchair.
Her mother worked at the supermarket out of town, near the ring road.
Her mother paused. ‘Yes.’
‘You don’t have a shift today. So where have you been?’
Her mother groaned, sounding like a caught-out kid. ‘That’s none of your business.’
‘It is if I’m here looking after George.’
‘He’s been at his camp all day,’ her mother said dismissively. ‘You didn’t even have to do pickup because I arranged for Carol to do it.’
‘He got home hours ago.’
‘I’m so sorry you have to look after your brother for two hours.’
Callie watched her with the usual quiet resentment.
It didn’t feel wrong, though; this was just the way things were between them.
She’d gotten used to resenting her mother.
Ever since her deadbeat dad had finally left, and not long after that, all the adult responsibility had quietly shifted onto Callie’s shoulders, without anyone ever saying it aloud or offering so much as a word of thanks.
‘You eat?’ Callie asked.
‘I grabbed something,’ her mother said.
‘So you’re really not gonna tell me where you’ve been all day.’
‘Doesn’t seem five minutes since you were running round this place in your pants. Now you’re demanding to know what I’m up to. I don’t ask you who you’re hanging around with. Though God knows, I hear about it.’
Callie ignored the implication in that. ‘I never asked who you were with,’ she said.
Her mother pretended not to have heard that and went to put the kettle on. ‘Tea?’
‘OK.’
She made it, and they sat at the table.
‘Been thinking. You’ve graduated now.’
‘Mm.’
‘We need to start getting things straight,’ her mum went on. ‘Properly. I’m talking grown-up life now, not messing about.’
Callie’s mouth fell open in astonishment. But before a bitter laugh could escape, her mother carried on.
Her mum gestured around at the peeling wallpaper, the sagging sofa.
‘This house doesn’t pay for itself, does it?
And I can’t keep doing all these shifts forever.
I’m on my feet all day, then I come back, and there’s washing, and homework, and appointments, and George needs reminding about everything twice…
’ She sighed. ‘Sometimes I feel like I’ve got two jobs and no time to breathe. ’
Callie didn’t bother to say the words, ‘I’m doing most of that.’ Her mother wouldn’t hear it anyway.
‘It would help if you did more than a few glass-collecting shifts. You could get a job at the supermarket with me.’
Callie’s insides went cold. ‘I’m not doing that. I’ll choose my own job, thanks. I could even do uni.’
Her mother laughed. ‘With your marks!’
Callie looked away. She was no academic, but her mother didn’t have to be mean about it.
‘I could retake my exams. Try harder.’
‘Brilliant. Then you can get yourself into debt so you can ponce about at university. Meanwhile, I’m here trying to work out how to pay the leccy and take care of your brother.’
Callie glanced towards the stairs. George’s door was shut, music leaking faintly through it, the same song on repeat.
‘You can’t make this decision for me,’ she said, allowing herself a little volume.
‘This is your life,’ her mother said bitterly. ‘This family. This house. We’re not something you graduate from.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Felt like it.’
It had been this way for so long that it was nearly impossible to imagine another life. She’d been her brother’s parent for so long.
But today, she’d been with Mae. She’d felt like it was life, at last. Happiness. She could see that feeling was the point of everything. Not just trundling along, grabbing at whatever you could, scraping by. To choose something. To choose someone.
And Callie wanted those choices. She knew Mae did too.
‘I’m your daughter,’ Callie said finally. ‘Not your partner. I need a life of my own.’
Her mother had the old standby line ready to go. ‘What about your brother? He needs—’
‘George isn’t helpless,’ Callie said. ‘He can learn to do more. He already does. And when he’s ready, he can leave. He can live his life.’
‘He can’t! He’ll live on nuggets and get scurvy!’
‘He’s gotten into fruit smoothies,’ Callie told her. ‘So, I’m not worried about that.’
‘What? Since when?’
‘Weeks.’
Her mother wasn’t satisfied. ‘He’ll get stinky. He’ll forget to shower.’
‘It’s just another reminder to put on his phone.’
‘But… he’s not ready.’
‘He will be. One day.’
‘He won’t.’
‘How would you know? You’ve missed most of his life!’ Callie barked.
Her mother’s mouth dropped open.
From upstairs came a sudden burst of laughter from George’s room, sharp and delighted, followed by him calling, ‘Callie! This bit’s funny, come look!’
Callie smiled despite herself. ‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ she called back.
She looked at her mother, tired and frightened and glaring at her.
‘I’m not leaving tonight,’ Callie said. ‘I’ll help George learn the things he needs to know. I’ll make sure you’re not dropped in it. But I am going. When I can.’
Her mother didn’t answer.
She went up the stairs to see what was making George laugh.
You did it, she thought. You said it. And next, you should say something to Mae. Ask her to leave with you.