‘Don’t,’ I groan, placing my head in my hands and massaging my temples as the reminder of it all sits painfully in my skull.
‘What were you thinking, kid?’ Tracy laughs breathily and shakes me gently by the shoulder.
‘What are the chances of no one else knowing about this except for all of us here?’ I ask, knowing full well it will be the hottest topic of the church’s coffee morning tomorrow.
‘I’ve already told the girls from school,’ Cerys says, not looking up from her phone.
With a smirk, the teen moves to the snug and presses her ear to the door.
‘What are you doing?’ I hiss, as her mother moves to stand beside her.
‘Oh, come on, aren’t you even just a little bit intrigued?’ Tracy, of all people, replies, a sly smirk on her face.
Reluctantly, I move closer to the door. It’s pretty much just a thin sheet of frosted glass in a frame that slides back and forth and gets stuck before you can close it fully, nothing special, and certainly not as thick as the rest of the original doors of the place. So, when I crouch down to listen at the gap, Arthur’s words are crystal clear.
‘I think he’s talking to a mate,’ Cerys whispers and I instinctively move closer.
‘It’s a place people would come to die,’ he says, and though it stings, he’s not exactly wrong. ‘It’s bleak. It’s like the whole village is stuck in 1940.’ He carries on in a similar vein for a while, confessing his disappointment in rather colourful ways.
Just as I am ready to listen to my conscience and move away to complete some more productive tasks, he says something I cannot miss. ‘I’ve already had one of the weirdo locals try it on with me.’ He seems more composed now. It’s calculated, and I feel the blood drain from my face. ‘Yes, just lay there like some strange French painting, flashed me clear as day. And that’s the sort of place you believe is good for me?’
I can’t hear the voice on the other end. I can barely hear him for the ringing in my ears that crescendos with every one of his words.
‘What an absolute state.’
That’s all I need to hear. Eavesdropping only gets you hurt. My mum told me that so, so many times, and yet I never quite understood how much it could hurt until now.To have a stranger twist a story, to laugh at you so plainly, to humiliate you, it feels physical, as though he has booted this stupidly thin door down and it’s sliced me in half. Every bit of the old me I felt peeking through that window is crushed, and my fossilised heart solidifies once more.
Without another word to the sad, sympathetic faces of the landlady and her daughter, I leave the Big Apple, and go home.
Chapter 5
Arthur
Dad doesn’t answer when I call him the first time. No doubt this was his plan all along. Dump me in this place and abandon me until I’m straightened out. He knows I’m useless without him. I have none of my own contacts, and with my minimal wage from various acting cameos and runner jobs on set, I wouldn’t be able to afford to get myself out of here either.
I wouldn’t even be surprised if this whole thing was some elaborate film set. SomeTruman Showbullshit designed to teach me a lesson. It’s the only explanation for this place. There’s no way that villages like this actually exist. The stuffed pheasant overlooking the pub fireplace, ‘Auntie Babs’, the fact that the only neighbours I see as I look out of this window are the sheep sent to deconstruct a potent cauliflower field. That would explain my interesting introduction to, what was her name, Betty? Shemust be an actor. No one could think that was normal, surely? That must have been my first test, although rather brash if Dad’s trying to be subtle.
Scanning about the small snug, I check each corner and crook for the tiny lenses of cameras but they’re too well hidden to see.
‘Arthur, I am working. This better be good,’ Dad answers on the fifth consecutive call.
‘You told me you were sending me to New York. I didn’t realise you meant the benefits Britain version.’ By the time he actually answers, I have riled myself up with the frustration from the last week and my repressed anger bursts from me before I can control it. ‘This is the sort of place people would come to die. It’s bleak.’
‘Have you finally realised I haven’t sent you away for a holiday?’ Dad matches his tone to mine, though his voice comes through the receiver quietly, as though he’s trying hard to keep up appearances on the other end. ‘New York is a place of no distractions. There is no trouble for you to find yourself in, no way you can possibly find a way to embarrass me.’
My hand shakes as I clutch my phone. All I hear is a challenge. I scan the room for cameras again but instead it is the silhouettes of a couple of eavesdroppers that I notice. Clearly, they haven’t realised that although the frosted glass obscures one’s view inside, the featureless outline of the crouched landlady and her daughter are very much visible. A third figure lingers at a little distance, and the shadow of an idea floats into my mind. If I’m not welcome here, I’ll have no choice but to leave, be sent further away. Ifthe village dislikes me, hates me even, Dad surely couldn’t leave me here. I need to prove to him that Lincolnshire isn’t far enough for me to stop troubling him.
‘I’ve already had one of the weirdo locals try it on with me.’ I stand up straighter and try to level my voice, though my stomach bubbles in turmoil with each word. ‘And that’s the sort of place you believe is good for me?’
‘It got me to where I am, Arthur.’
‘What, an absolute state?’ It’s childish, I know, but I have nothing left in my arsenal to fight with.
‘Goodbye, Arthur.’ I can practically hear him rolling his eyes. ‘You’re an adult. Grow up, get on with it.’ He hangs up before I can fight back. Looking again at the figures in the frosted glass, I sigh and press the corner of my phone to my forehead until it hurts.
When I feel suitably ashamed of myself, I re-emerge from the snug, trying to hide the waves of nausea that crash over me.
The landlady stands at the bar, an intentionally blank look on her face. Her daughter doesn’t hide her scowl; in fact her look is so black as her hooded lids stalk me across the room that I shiver a little with the intensity. I try to look anywhere else.
