Scarlett Part 11

'Everything's fine,' I shout back. 'No problem.'

But Clare is coming up the stairs. I abandon Holly and step out on to the landing, closing the door behind me.

'Don't worry, Clare,' I tell her, blocking the top of the stairs. 'I yelled, but I'd just banged my toe against the bed in Holly's room. I'm fine now.'

'Oh,' Clare says, 'I was sure it was Holly I heard...'

'No, really, Holly's fine,' I argue, but there's a low, shuddering whimper from across the landing and Clare frowns and pushes past me into Holly's room.

It looks like the scene of a small ma.s.sacre. Holly is curled up on the bed, sobbing raggedly, her arms locked round her face. All around her, spots of blood litter the quilt and scrunched-up, bloodsoaked tissues lie strewn everywhere.

'Dear G.o.d,' Clare says. 'What happened?'

'Nothing,' I say. 'It was an accident tell her, Holly'

'Oh, Mum,' Holly gasps. 'We used the frozen peas, but it didn't work and the badge pin slipped and it hurts! hurts! It really, really hurts!' It really, really hurts!'

Clare takes Holly through to the bathroom, tilting her head back as she wipes the blood away and holds a clean white towel against the wound to stop the bleeding. 'Explain,' Clare says to me.

'It wasn't my idea,' I stall. 'I told her it was a bad plan.'

'What was?' Clare demands.

'Piercing her nose.'

'Oh, G.o.d,' Clare says. 'It wasn't an accident? She did it herself?'

I look at Clare for a long moment, then I look at Holly, her green eyes wide and scared, her lips trembling. She looks terrified, but I can't work out whether she's scared of Clare or me.

My mouth feels dry and my hands are shaking. I've blown it this time, I know. What made me listen to Holly? Messing up your own life, your own body, that's one thing but wrecking someone else's? That takes real talent.

What made me think this could ever, ever be a good idea? I reach out to hold Holly's hand, but my fingers are sticky, streaked with red. She pulls her hand away.

'Holly didn't do this herself,' I say at last in a quavery voice. 'I did.'

'I'm sorry,' I say, for the seventy-third time in a row. 'It was an accident. I didn't mean to hurt Holly.'

'Didn't mean to hurt her?' Dad flings back, his eyes round with astonishment. 'An accident? Scarlett, spare me the apologies. You've gone too far this time.'

They're just back from an emergency trip to the doctor's surgery in Kilimoor, and Holly is huddled at the table, a clumsy dressing taped to her face. Clare sits next to her, tight-lipped, an arm round Holly's shoulder. Neither of them will look at me.

'I'm sorry,' I repeat.

I've made tea, got the right mugs, even added two sugars to Dad's, but n.o.body seems to notice. I poured milk for Holly, but she doesn't touch it.

'Sorry doesn't even start to cover it,' Dad snarls. 'Holly is a little girl. She's nine, nine, Scarlett. Don't you have any sense of responsibility?' Scarlett. Don't you have any sense of responsibility?'

I wasn't much more than nine when Dad packed his bags and moved out, but that didn't seem to affect his sense of responsibility. I can think of a million angry retorts to spit back, but I bite my tongue.

'To deliberately puncture her lip her face with a dirty old badge pin! What were you thinking of, Scarlett?' Dad rages. 'We've had the wound cleaned, but there could still be infection. And possible scarring. Don't you care about that?'

'Yes, of course I do,' I say as calmly as I can manage.

'And her lip, of all places,' Dad continues. 'What were you trying to do? Make her into into a freak? Like you?'

My mouth feels dry and there's a sick, sad feeling in my throat. I can't remember my dad ever saying something so mean, so hurtful.

'Wasn't it bad enough, encouraging her to paint her face and give up meat?' Dad says. 'No. You had to push it one bit further, didn't you? You had to talk her into this!'

'No,' I argue. 'She wanted me to do it. And it was meant to be her nose the badge pin slipped. I'm sorry!'

'So you say' Dad retorts. 'I suppose we should be grateful you didn't sever a main artery!'

I glance over at Holly, the injustice of it all bubbling up like the sour taste of guilt. Blackmail, I think. That's why I did it. I wanted to keep Kian a secret, keep my new-found good-girl image, and Holly threatened to blow it all. I can't admit it, though not now, not ever. Holly could speak out, explain what happened, smooth it all out, but she's acting like I'm some kind of axe murderer, like I meant for this to happen. She stares at the tabletop, slides her hands over her eyes to keep my glare at bay.

It's Clare who looks up and meets my eye. She doesn't look angry, just sad. 'I thought you liked it here,' she says softly. 'I thought you were settling in. I thought you and Holly were friends that you were good for each other. I thought we could trust you, Scarlett.'

My eyes p.r.i.c.k with tears, but I can't cry, I won't. 'You can can trust me!' I protest. 'It was just a stupid mistake, OK?' trust me!' I protest. 'It was just a stupid mistake, OK?'

Clare shakes her head. In that one movement, I can see my summer falling apart. I try to see this evening's events through Clare's eyes, and it doesn't look good. It doesn't look good at all.

'You can can trust me,' I say in a small voice. 'I'm happy here.' But Clare turns her face away, and I can feel that happiness slipping away, falling through my fingers like sand. trust me,' I say in a small voice. 'I'm happy here.' But Clare turns her face away, and I can feel that happiness slipping away, falling through my fingers like sand.

I chuck some stuff into the fluffy backpack, layer on a fleece and a jacket, slip on my ugly, sensible sandals. I pocket a handful of euros from my dressing table, a chocolate bar left over from earlier. I creep down the stairs, avoiding the squeaky step three from the bottom, but still a door creaks open on the landing. When I look up, Holly is looking down over the banisters, her hair sticking out like straw, her eyes heavy with sleep. The dressing has come away from her wound in the night, and I can see the beginnings of a dark red scab just centimetres from her mouth.

'Terrible place for a stud,' I say, and Holly smiles faintly, just a flicker of something that might be forgiveness.

'Don't go,' she whispers.

I put a finger to my lips, then turn away.

The lane is spooky at night. An owl hoots in the distance, and there's a noise beyond the hedge that sounds like an old man coughing, although I think it's only sheep.

I've messed up plenty of times in my life, but this time I've done it with style.

What did it matter, anyhow, messing up at school? There was always going to be another place, another bunch of teachers to annoy, another gang of bad-girl friends. What did it matter, dyeing my hair red, piercing my tongue, clomping through the streets on three-inch wedges? n.o.body was looking, anyway. n.o.body cared.

Mum would just huff and stress and pack me off somewhere safely out of sight, then change her mind and decide it was all a fuss about nothing. Back I'd come to carry on like nothing ever happened. Not this time, though. This time, it's different.

I thought it'd be the worst thing in the world, being sent to this middle-of-nowhere hole to live with Dad and Clare and Holly. I wanted to hate them, and I tried, I really did, but I just couldn't. I walked into that cheesy little cottage and even though I was angrier than I've ever been, I could feel the happiness there. I guess I just wanted to be a part of it. Some chance of that now.

I slip through the gap in the hedge and into the woods, my feet crunching through broken twigs and last year's dried leaves. All those years, I thought that my Dad was a total loser. Now I know he was just a guy in an unhappy marriage, a guy who fell for someone else and took his chance of happiness. Can I blame him for that? Not really. After all, when I thought I could have that happiness, too, all the anger dropped away and I grabbed for it with both hands. I nearly had it, too.

The trouble is, I've had no practice at being a big sister. I wanted to make Holly happy. I wanted her to think I was cool and wild and clever, and I let myself be blackmailed. Would she really have told Dad and Clare about Kian? I don't think so. Not Holly Don't go, she said, but it's not like I have a choice. I can't stay there now, because they know how stupid, how bad, I really am. Bad enough to stab my little stepsister through the lip.

It's not like that's all, either. I need to find Kian. I was wrong to stay silent about the dark-haired men who were looking for him, and I need to put that right before I go.

He's down by the lough, a hunched figure in the darkness. He is sitting on a rock beside the water, next to a small fire edged with stones and fuelled with fallen branches. An empty tin of beans, blackened on the outside, lies in the embers, and Midnight stands at a distance, gazing out across the lough.

'Hey,' he says, as though it's the most natural thing in the world for me to come strolling out of the woods at past one in the morning.

'Hey, yourself.' I sit down beside him, hugging my knees, holding my hands out to the fire. 'Don't you ever sleep?'

'Sometimes.' He laughs. 'I've just been sitting, thinking, that's all. I kind of lost track of time.'

My eyes slide over to the wishing tree, to the long scarf the dark-haired man in the hat tied on to a branch this morning. I can see it silhouetted against the night sky.

'Some guys came to the lough this morning, looking for you,' I say in a rush. 'Two dark-haired guys, one with a hat, one with a moustache. I didn't know what to say, so I pretended I didn't know you, and they went away. The younger one tied a scarf on to the wishing tree.'

'Yeah.' Kian sighs. 'My dad. My dad and my uncle.'

'I should have told you,' I say 'I'm sorry. I was going to, but then you saw the scarf and I thought it didn't matter any more.'

Kian sighs. 'It doesn't matter, Scarlett,' he says. 'At least I know they were here, they were looking.'

'Looks like we're both in trouble,' I say heavily. 'I can't stay here any more. I messed up at Dad's, hurt Holly.'

'You hurt her?' Kian repeats.

'It was an accident, but yeah, it was my fault,' I say. 'They know what I'm like now. I'm trouble, I'm hopeless. It's time to move on.'

Kian stares into the fire, his face highlighted in the dull red glow. I guess this is the bit where I want him to suggest we run away together, away from the dark-haired men, away from Dad and Clare and Holly. We could ride Midnight up into the hills, find a ruined cottage and live there in secret just us, no school, no adults, no ha.s.sle.

'Scarlett, you're not going anywhere,' Kian says. 'You just made a mistake. They'll forgive you they'll get over it.'

'They won't,' I say in a small voice. 'I've let them down.'

'You would if you ran away,' Kian says.

The injustice of this. .h.i.ts me like a slap. 'It's OK for you, though, isn't it?' I fling at him. 'To run away? To let people down? Your dad and your uncle, they were looking for you. This wasn't the first place they looked and it won't be the last, either. They were sad your dad especially. They wanted to find you. So don't preach at me about running away! You did it yourself!'

Kian looks at me, his face shadowed. 'I did, I know, but you don't know the reason for it,' he says. 'It's a good reason, OK? Not just some family squabble that could be patched up if you'd just grow up and sit tight and accept that you were wrong.'

'It's not like that!' I splutter.

'Isn't it?'

I'm so angry I'd like to slap his face, thump my fists against his skinny chest, spit on his shoes. Instead, I take a big breath in and count to ten, but that doesn't even start to cut it, and I'm at eighty-seven before I feel his hand snake round mine in the dark.

'I thought you'd understand,' I whisper.

'I do understand,' he says. 'I know that running away is a bad idea. It's the worst, OK? Look, Scarlett, something happened something I just can't talk about. It's been eating me up, and I ran away, came here, trying to get my head straight. I know how much I've hurt my family, worried them. And I know I have to go back.'

'Go back?' I panic. 'You can't!'

'Scarlett, I wouldn't have stayed this long if it hadn't been for you,' Kian says.

We sit in the dark for a long time in silence, holding hands, until the fire dies down to softly glowing embers.

'We have to do this, even though it's tough,' Kian says. 'I have to go back, and you have to stay here, face up to what you did, make your family see that you're sorry.'

'I can't.'

'You can, Scarlett,' Kian tells me. 'You're strong. You've made mistakes, sure, but running away would be the biggest one of all, I promise.'

Later, we ride back through the woods and along the lane, Kian's arms round me, our hands muddled up together in Midnight's mane.

'I don't want you to go,' I whisper. 'Please don't.'

'I have to,' Kian sighs.

'Just a few more days? Please?' I beg. 'You haven't finished the hayricks, yet, you said...'

'I dunno,' he says. 'I really need to find my dad and uncle. It's important.'

'I know, of course,' I tell him. 'But just a day or two? To say goodbye?'

Kian is silent for a long time, and then he speaks softly, quietly, into my hair. 'Just a day or two then. OK?'

'Promise?'

'Promise.'

We've reached the cottage gate with Holly's handpainted sign advertizing eggs and strawberries and lettuce. I slip down from Midnight's back and turn towards the house. The curtain in Holly's room twitches slightly.

'I'll do the hayricks first thing,' he tells me. 'Meet you at the lough at one o'clock? At least we can say goodbye.'

I nod in the darkness, glad he can't see my stricken face, then turn away quickly as he turns Midnight round, back towards the lough. I sneak round the side of the cottage, slip in through the back door, creep up the stairs. As I cross the landing, I hear Holly's door shut softly, see the light click off from inside.

I knock softly on her door, turn the handle, go inside. She's pretending to sleep, her face pale against the gloom, the quilt drawn up to her chin. I bend down to touch her cheek and she sits up, throwing her arms round me, hugging me so tightly I can hardly breathe.

'Oh, Scarlett,' she says. 'I thought you'd gone.'

In the morning, Dad takes Holly into Galway to the dentist. There's some dispute over whether she's well enough, but I get the feeling Dad wants to keep her out of my way. The heat is already stifling outside, but things are feeling distinctly frosty between Dad, Clare and me.

'Sorry,' I say again.

'S'OK.' Holly grins. 'I've changed my mind, anyhow. I don't want a piercing any more.'

'Bit late for that,' Dad huffs. 'Thanks to Scarlett.'

I am sorry, though. Sorry enough to take Kian's advice and come back, sorry enough to hang around and watch the icicles form around me as Dad flashes me a reproachful look and Clare eyes me warily, as though I might start hacking the kitchen to bits with the bread knife at any moment.