‘Don’t call me that. You cannot use that word around me now. Love is something people like you destroy.’
Mam grasps his hand. They look at Catlin together. Drawing strength. We’re used to her hissy fits, but this is something else. Her eyes are wide, her hair is ratted wild, she can’t sit still. She’s like a crazy person. She picks up a blue-and-white vase. It looks as if she will throw it.
‘Put that down,’ Mam says.
‘Fine,’ says Catlin, and swings it at the wall. It thunks against the paper, and plonks down on the soft maroon carpet. Not even chipped. She goes to pick it up and try again. I see the muscles in Brian’s face twitch a little. He brings his index fingers to his temples. Rotates them back and forth. Twice. His voice is quiet and definite.
‘Enough.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I said, Catlin Hayes, that that is enough. Your sister and your mother and I have had enough abuse. You are forbidden from seeing this boy. He is dangerous, and can’t be trusted. No matter how much you think you love him. You are not to see him. You are not to text him. You are not to email him, or message him in any way. And if you do, we will find out about it. And we will stop you.’
I utterly believe him in that moment. And so does Catlin. She sits down, still hugging the vase to her stomach.
‘So I can still go to school?’ she asks through gritted teeth.
‘Yes. But we will drop you there and pick you up. And you need to apologise to your sister. She cares about you. Which is why she came to me.’
Brian does the hand thing again. Did he attend a course on conflict resolution? I wonder. Did they teach him magic hands of trust?
Catlin’s face looks paler now, and sharp. Her mouth is set. Brian’s voice drones on about ‘respecting boundaries’ and ‘understanding that adults sometimes know things children don’t’. She doesn’t roll her eyes, but I feel the effort.
‘Are you hearing what we’re saying?’ he concludes.
She meets his gaze. ‘Yes, Brian. Yes, Brian. I am.’ Her voice is deceptively meek. She’s going to explode.
I close my eyes.
‘And what you have to remember, Brian, is that while you are married to my mam, you are in no way my real dad. You’re just Mam’s husband. You do not get to tell me what to do. So you can thoroughly, utterly and completely fuck right off. I’ll see Laurent if I want to. You do not get to tell me who to love.’
Brian opens his mouth and closes it again.
‘And furthermore …’ says Catlin, rising to her feet, ‘I will only apologise to Maddy when she apologises to me for being a weaselly little bitch.’
‘Catlin Hayes!’ Mam’s voice could cut through steel. ‘SIT!’ she barks, as though Catlin were a dog. ‘And let me tell you the way that things will be. There are two rules. One: you will respect your family. And Brian is that now. You need to choose what you are going to say next, Catlin. I’d think about that, and I’d shut my mouth. If I were you.’
Catlin opens her mouth.
‘Sit down. Shut Up.’
Catlin sits down.
‘Two: you will not see that boy again. Give me your phone.’
‘I am NOT giving you my PHONE. That is an invasion of privacy.’
Mam holds out her hand. ‘I don’t care. Give it here.’
Catlin gets up, flounces to the door. She tries it and the door won’t open.
‘I hate you all,’ she yells. ‘I hate you all so much. It isn’t fair.’
‘Catlin.’ I try to keep my voice calm and gentle. ‘The Helen thing … it’s scary. We don’t want that for you.’
Her voice is high and sharp: ‘What about what I want?’ She looks me in the eye, then swings to face Brian and Mam. The one beside the other. Like a unit. ‘And anyway it’s LIES.’
‘It isn’t lies,’ says Brian. ‘And, unsavoury rumours aside, your sister’s right. He isn’t right for you. He’s too controlling.’
Oh no, Brian. No, don’t bring me into this, I think, and crinkle my eyelids together as tightly as they’ll go.
‘Controlling?’ Catlin asks, addressing the imaginary jury. ‘That, like you, is RICH. And not in a good way.’
Brian holds up his hand. The gesture is both tired and strangely sassy.
‘I’m not doing this,’ he sighs, possibly realising that he has been trying to parent too hard too soon. ‘Give Sheila your phone. Then we’ll let you out.’
Catlin rolls her eyes and hands it over.
‘I don’t care. He’ll find me, with or without a phone. Our love is bigger than a phone, and you can’t stop it. And, Brian – your comb-over isn’t fooling anyone. You’re bald. And, Mam – you are a BITCH. Thanks for ruining my life.’ She pulls the door aggressively. It wasn’t locked at all; she just didn’t use the handle right. She swears at us again, and stamps out. I hear her muttering down the stairs. We sit until the tramp of feet fades into silence. Looking at each other.
‘Well, that went well …’ says Brian.
Mam starts to cry and he gives her a hug.
I slink away, dried-up-weasel-Judas that I am.
I hear my sister sobbing all night long. Her door is locked. She will not answer me.
33
Water Horsetail
Drowning can be quick, but it feels slow. You cannot move, you cannot call for help. Your eyes are glassy. You may panic, hyperventilate. You try to swim, you can’t control your legs; your arms are flapping but it isn’t helping. In the end there’s nothing you can do to cheat your death.
What I feel here, right now, is something else. It’s stupid to compare it. So dramatic. But this morning there were three spots of blood upon my pillow. I think I must have coughed them in the night. When I woke, the first thing that I did was draw a breath. I drank in air like water. It tasted like new life.
Catlin is really sad, and also bitter. Lon hasn’t been around in several days. To make matters worse, Brian, in another parenting move learned from blogs written by stepdads with too much Internet, has decided to bring home a kitten. Catlin is supposed to love him, and by extension Brian.
‘This little scut was wandering around Jack Collins’s land,’ he announces, holding him up like flag of truce. Jack Collins is Charley’s uncle or cousin or something. He helps Brian put up fences and things, but I had not realised he was also a kitten dealer.
The kitten looks nonplussed. Its eyes are still milky blue and its stomach is very soft and fluffy. It should not be allowed out of the castle or Bob will surely eat it. I finger the orb inside my pocket.
‘I went up to talk about some things that need doing in the castle. And there she was. The only one of the litter left alive. Their mother abandoned them.’
He holds it out to Catlin, like a 99 on a sunny day. The kitten mews pitifully. Like, What exactly am I doing here? I’m small. Put me in a box. Leave me alone.
Brian continues talking.
‘I have purchased a litter tray and a small cat bed. We can keep it in the kitchen at first until it’s confident, and then transition it to other parts of the house.’
He clearly also has been learning from cat-dads with too much Internet. I resist the urge to pull up a chair and take out the popcorn. I am on Brian’s side. Brian is in the right here. Team Brian.
Brian is still holding the kitten out like he’s Rafiki, and we’re all the cartoon animals of the African plains. Catlin reaches out and his face is all, Yes, yes, drink the potion, but instead she just pokes it with her finger, and scowls, and even though she’s being a brat, I have never loved her more. I don’t want her to stop being herself. I just want her to be safe. I let out a small, sad sigh, and she moves her scowl from the kitten to me. Fair enough. I’m bigger. I can take it. Slightly. Sort of.