37
Nick knocked on Ethan’s door. He didn’t answer the first time, so he knocked again, a little more forcefully. This time, Ethan grunted, and he opened the door, a crack at first, then fully. Ethan was lying on his bed. The room looked like a jumble sale, discarded clothes flowing from every surface, and wet towels strewn on the floor. Nick laughed. ‘This is even worse than ours. Don’t let any of the women in here.’
‘Wasn’t planning on it.’ Ethan smiled grimly.
‘Looks like the rain is stopping.’
The boy shrugged a little, as if he couldn’t care less, and hadn’t even noticed it was raining.
Nick came into the room and closed the door behind him. ‘Your mum says you’re having a shitter, Eth.’
Ethan eyed him suspiciously. ‘Has she sent you to talk to me?’
‘Not exactly. I know she thought it might help.’
Ethan didn’t speak. Nick sat on the other bed, pulling the pillows from the head to his back for support, and leant against them.
‘What did she tell you?’
‘That you’re in love.’ It seemed, to Nick, a good place to start.
‘And the rest?’
Nick nodded. ‘She told me what happened, yes. And for what it’s worth, mate, I think it stinks. What her dad said.’
The relief at not having to say out loud what had happened, the relief of his uncle’s immediate support, took all the suppressed rage out of Ethan. Without the anger to keep him upright, his shoulders rounded and he began, to his horror, to cry.
He was glad Nick didn’t move. He didn’t want to be held like a child. For a moment or two, Nick sat, and Ethan fought to get himself back under control. Then Nick took out a handkerchief, balled it into a missile and threw it across the room to him. Ethan rubbed his eyes, and snorted into it.
‘Keep it. Got loads. Done a bit of weeping and wailing myself lately, Eth.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be. Means you’re human.’
Ethan’s breathing was settling down, but he could still only stare at the carpet.
‘Tell me about her.’
‘Saskia?’
‘Yeah. If you want.’
Ethan smiled faintly. ‘She’s gorgeous.’
‘I bet. Got a picture?’
Ethan picked up his phone and scrolled back through his photos. He held it out, and Nick came over. ‘I like this one.’
It was a selfie. She must have taken it. She was looking straight at the camera, and Ethan was kissing her cheek. She was a good-looking girl, but it was Ethan’s ease and confidence that made the picture memorable. ‘Pretty. Really pretty.’
‘She is.’
Nick went back to the other side of the room, and waited.
‘Clever, too. Dead smart. Missed her help with revision, that’s for sure.’
‘You’ll be fine.’
‘She just got me. I got her. You know?’
Nick knew.
‘I probably sound stupid, you’ll probably tell me I’m too young, but I loved her, Nick.’ He corrected himself. ‘I love her, I mean.’
‘Why would I tell you you’re stupid, kid? Love is love, Eth. There’s no right age. You say you love her, what sort of twat would I be if I told you you couldn’t cos you’re only sixteen?’
‘Dad said it.’
Point proven, Nick thought. ‘Well, the truth is, you’re the only one who knows what’s gone on between the two of you, right?’
‘And now, because of her dad, her parents and mine do. By now maybe the police do. It’s so bloody humiliating.’
‘I get that. It should have been private.’
Ethan looked at him gratefully.
‘I don’t think he’s going to take it any further, Eth. I’ll bet you.’
Ethan sighed. Sitting there, he looked younger than sixteen. Maybe even too young for sex.
‘Look. I’m a dad. I was also, once, a young boyfriend, so I can see both sides. He loves his daughter. He wants to keep her young. He hates the idea she’s having sex with someone. He hates the idea of being usurped in her affections. He hates her growing up. He’s lashed out, that’s all. He’s threatened you with stuff because he can. Not because he’s going to go through with it. It’s a kind of revenge. Besides, if he was going to do that, he’d have done it by now. He’d have done it the first day, while he was still fuming.’
‘I don’t even care about the police. It’s Mum and Dad who care about that. I don’t give a shit. I care that he’s split us up. He hasn’t let her come anywhere near me.’
Nick ignored the idiocy of that: it showed Ethan’s immaturity. If the police were involved, it would ruin him. But it wouldn’t help to say so. Nick believed what he’d said about the father – he bet the moment had passed. But you never knew, and God help Ethan if the man did go through with it. ‘He might relent on that too.’
Ethan snorted. ‘Someone said she’s going somewhere else for sixth form. Some boarding school. He’s a bloody nutter.’
‘I see.’
‘Yeah. So. I might never see her again.’ They were both aware of how melodramatic that sounded, but Ethan was past caring.
‘Oh, Ethan.’ Nick sighed.
Ethan looked directly at him. The tears had receded, and Nick could see that he was angry again. ‘So you can’t help me. Not really. Can you?’
‘I can listen, for what that’s worth. I can try to understand. I can keep you company if you want. Listen to Oasis with you …’
It had been Nick who’d got him into all the Britpop stuff. Ethan couldn’t remember listening to music with his father, and his mum was strictly Radio 4 and Classic FM. His uncle had always had a stereo and records. He’d got really excited when Ethan had expressed an interest a few years ago, pulling albums out of the shelf where they were alphabetized, in his front room at home, exclaiming that Ethan ‘had to hear’ this or that song. He’d once declared that Ethan was the only other person allowed to put records on his old decks, being the only person who truly appreciated them, and Ethan, at twelve or thirteen, had swelled with pride.
The evocation broke the tension. Ethan half laughed, and Nick winked at him, then stood up. ‘I can’t fix it, mate. This is it. Life. Shits on you from a great height sometimes. It does on everyone. But other people help. Trust me. They do, if you let them.’
He squeezed his nephew’s boyish shoulder, then left him alone.
38
By late afternoon, to everyone’s relief, the weather had staged a miraculous recovery. The rain had acted as a mood oppressor, making the kids mope a bit, and the adults scratchy. The house shrank, when the gardens were out of bounds and the pool unappealing. By unspoken agreement, they’d quietly fled to different rooms. Nick’s kids squabbled over Uno and waited for the downpour to pass. When it did, the August sun was strong enough to dry the stones on the terrace quickly, and its warmth seemed to make everyone unclench.
Laura didn’t realize she’d avoided being alone with Heather until she found herself alone with Heather, not quite quick enough to think of a reason not to be. She acknowledged that she was jealous of her brother and his new wife. Of their shiny, polished happiness. Of their obvious joy in each other’s company. Of Heather’s relentless cheerful energy. And now of her closeness with the others. When, and how, had that happened? Was she on a charm offensive? She’d seen several tender exchanges between Heather and her dad. Her dad. Even Nick’s kids, whom she’d known all their lives, seemed instantly fond of Heather.