‘Never a doubt,’ Dad said breezily. ‘I booked the caterers days ago, that’s how certain I was.’ He reached over and patted Tom on the back. ‘So, what do you reckon? Pleased with it?’
‘It’s fine.’ Tom took another look around. ‘You never know, it may even be fun.’
‘Good, well done.’ Dad beamed at him. ‘We’ve invited everyone who matters. We need to show the world you’ve got nothing to hide.’ He gestured to the suitcase. ‘I’ll take this upstairs, then I’ve got a few calls to make. You relax, Tom. You’re home and safe now.’
Mum laid her hand flat against Tom’s cheek. ‘I’ll take your jacket in, and check how things are going with the caterers.’
It was weird how they kept explaining themselves – they’d been doing it since Tom got arrested. I’m just popping into the office. I’m going upstairs to see if I can grab some sleep. We’ll be with the lawyer for a while. It was as if they thought they’d disappear if they didn’t say where they were.
‘What are you two going to do?’ Mum said.
Tom smiled. ‘We’ll find something.’
Five
The spare room was pink with flocked wallpaper. Ellie and her mum hadn’t been able to do anything about that, but they’d got Tom a new mattress and changed the curtains. They’d put the portable TV up on a wall bracket and spread DVDs and books along the shelf.
Tom stood in the doorway and shook his head at it. ‘I feel like a guest.’
It was gloomy inside and Ellie snapped on the light. ‘Didn’t Dad tell you?’
‘Probably.’ Tom crossed to the bed and sat down, smoothed the duvet with his hands. ‘I don’t listen to half the stuff he says.’
‘Well, he tried to get the police to take the lock off your bedroom door, but everything seems to take so long. It’s all new though, the duvet and everything. Me and Mum went shopping.’
‘I always think of Gran when I see this room,’ he said. ‘All those pills she had and how crazy she was.’ He looked about, wrinkled his nose. ‘It still smells of her in here.’
‘We put the commode in the loft, so it shouldn’t. Open the window.’
‘Does she know about me?’ He shot Ellie a glance. ‘Or is it too shameful?’
‘She barely knows her own name. I think they’re waiting to see the outcome before they tell her anything.’
‘The outcome? Christ, you sound like Dad.’ He reached into his pocket and found his cigarettes, walked to the window and opened it.
Ellie watched him light a cigarette and pull smoke hard into his lungs. It was like fingers down chalkboards or forks over plates. The desperation of it. She wanted to cover her ears, look away. But instead, she sat and watched him inhale and exhale three more times. Finally, he turned to her.
‘I’m sorry, Ellie. I shouldn’t take it out on you.’
‘It’s OK.’
‘Dad’s driving me nuts. He fired the lawyer who mucked up my first bail application and got some top‑notch bloke instead. He doesn’t trust him though, talks to him as if he’s a kid fresh out of law school.’
‘He wants the best for you.’
Tom smiled grimly at her. ‘It’s embarrassing.’
‘It’ll be over soon.’
‘You think? According to the top‑notch guy, it’s only just begun.’
He blew the last smoke out into the garden, then tossed the butt after it. ‘You want to do something exciting?’
‘OK.’
‘Good. Wait there.’
He wasn’t gone long, came back with the hair clippers and planted them in her hand. ‘Cut it all off.’
She was stunned. ‘All of it?’
‘Short back and sides. I don’t want it long any more.’
‘I don’t know how to use them. I’ve never done it before.’
‘It’s easy, like cutting grass.’
He set up a chair in the corner of the room by the mirror, then spread newspaper on the floor.
‘Will you be angry if I get it wrong?’
Tom ripped off his T‑shirt. ‘Promise I won’t. Anyway, I’ve got no choice. The nearest barber is in the high street, and my bail conditions don’t let me anywhere near it.’
He straddled the chair and Ellie stood behind him, wielding the clippers. Their eyes met in the mirror.
She said, ‘This is the most dangerous thing anyone’s ever asked me to do.’
He laughed. ‘Then you’ve led a very sheltered life.’
But it had taken Tom ages to grow his hair. It was what defined him, how people described him. Tom – you know, the boy with all that blond hair. That he wanted it gone was scary. That he’d chosen her to do it, that the bedroom door was shut, that it was private – these were the things that made it feel dangerous.
‘Honestly, Tom, I don’t think I can. What if I take off too much and you end up a skinhead?’
‘Please, Ellie, before I change my mind.’
She held up a long strand of hair, but hesitated with the clippers. ‘You might change your mind? What if you do?’
‘I’m kidding. Just do it.’
Handful after handful fell to the floor and onto her bare feet. It drifted beyond the newspaper, driven by the breeze from the window, and piled up in the corner like a nest. His face changed as the hair fell. His eyes looked bigger, his ears appeared, the back of his neck became vulnerable. It was as if she was exposing him.
‘You look younger,’ was all she said when he asked why she looked sad. And when he wanted to know what was sad about being young, she told him that actually she was glad to be cutting his hair because she’d always been jealous of how good he looked with it long…
‘I want your metabolism too,’ she said. ‘You get to eat whatever you want and look like a stick, but I eat one chocolate and I turn to pudge. How come you get all the luck?’
He shook his head. ‘You don’t even know, do you?’
‘Know what?’
‘How pretty you are. Everyone says so.’
‘Everyone?’
‘You know what my mate Freddie calls you?’
She shook her head, slightly afraid.
‘Mermaid, that’s what.’
‘That’s not even a compliment. Mermaids just sit about on rocks all day.’
He laughed. ‘They’re not easy, that’s the point. No one gets to shag a mermaid because they don’t let you.’
Ellie thought it was more to do with the fact that they had nothing below the waist but a tail, but maybe she was wrong about that, so she didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned the attention back to him, because despite everything, she loved him and he needed to know that. As she clipped the hair round his ears, she quietly recited a list of all the nice things he’d ever done for her.
It included everything, from drawing pictures for her to colour in (which was years ago), through starting school (when he let her hang out with him in the playground, even though she was two years younger and a girl). Right up to the holiday in Kenya when the dog tried to bite her a second time and he stood in the way (which was the most heroic thing anyone had ever done for her).
‘Before we moved house,’ she said, ‘whenever my friends came round, you’d always hang out for a bit and talk to us. If we ever saw you in town, you’d wave or come over and chat, like you were genuinely interested. No one else’s brother ever bothered. I’ve always been proud of you for that.’
He smiled up at her. ‘You say the sweetest things.’
‘Well, you do the sweetest things. You made that speech at my sixteenth birthday saying how I was the best sister in the world, remember? And when I did that stupid leaving concert at school, you clapped loudest even though I was total rubbish and forgot all my words.’
Tom laughed as she reminded him of these things. It was great. Everything pulled together. He told the story of the summer they’d gone camping in southern France and the site was dull, dull, dull. The swimming pool was shut and the entertainment was rubbish and the only good things were the pâtisserie and the kites they’d bought from the shop.
‘We found that hill,’ he said, ‘you know the one? We flew the kites from the top and when we got bored we rolled all the way down and ran back up again.’