Sixteen

In some ways, the loss of Luke and Beth’s baby should have been easier to cope with than the death of my parents.

I didn’t know the baby; I hadn’t even seen it beyond a grainy black-and-white scan attached to the fridge. Honestly, I’d barely thought about it much at all. But the effect it had on Luke and Beth and the easy, comfortable life they’d built around me was tectonic. Like some great shifting of the earth beneath my feet. What had been a solid, predictable, and untroubled home life turned into something else overnight.

The first week after, Beth never left her bed. Luke would come home from work and cook dinner – he wasn’t good at it, so I’d help him peel carrots and potatoes and cook simple, tasteless meals for us at night, which she didn’t eat. He tried to smile at me, but it never quite reached his eyes, and I watched helplessly as strands of grey whispered through his once-dark hair. Death and misery moved into the house with us and refused to adjust to our way of life.

So instead, we adjusted to it.

For the first couple of weeks, it was as though Beth had been the one to die. Luke cried, the house felt cold and quiet, and I never saw her once. If she did venture out of her room, it was after I went to school, and though I could hear soft murmurs and quiet sobs through the walls at night, she felt like a ghost that was haunting the cottage. I suppose I was surprised by how she was coping – or rather, not coping. As I said, my sister wasn’t a very emotional person, but after the baby died, it was like some other person had emerged from inside her, and they were filled with feeling.

I thought about going to speak to her, to tell her how sorry I was, but I was scared I was the last person she’d want to see. The child she hadn’t wanted while the one she had was gone.

I felt loud and clumsy, as though I was intruding just by existing, so I tried to be as quiet and invisible as possible. It was a familiar pattern; it was the one I’d fallen into when I’d first come to live with Beth and Luke, so it was easy to revert to again.

It was a miserable time and even the weather seemed to agree; the world turning tearfully damp and grey. Jersey rarely saw snow, even in winter, but the rain was a constant pour that seemed to go on without end.

I tried calling Caspien a couple of times that first week, but each time, it would ring a few times before switching to voicemail. There were never the same number of rings, so I knew that he was avoiding me on purpose.

My voicemails were embarrassing. Pathetic. And I would have been ashamed about them except that I missed him so much. All I wanted was to go up to the house and have him snipe, bite, and say something cold to me because that would mean he was here and nothing had changed. That would mean anger and resentment could douse the achingly sad loneliness inside me.

Worse was how Ellie was with me. Asphyxiating me with attention. She treated me like I was some small broken bird she’d found by the road. Talking to me in soft tones, fetching my lunch for me, offering to carry my bag, and levelling big, concerned eyes at me during every class we shared. I didn’t understand it; I felt guilty about it.

Of course, I was sad about the baby. Of course, I was sad for Beth and Luke, and of course, I wished it hadn’t happened, but the weight of sadness lying in the pit of my stomach wasn’t truly about the baby. It was the disappearance of the person haunting my hopes and dreams from my life as suddenly and completely as though I’d lost a limb and was trying to adjust to a life without it.

It did, however, serve as a good cover, and I would often find myself thinking of him, longingly and would glance up to find Ellie giving me one of her doting looks.

By the end of the second week, everything changed once again.

It was Saturday – it also happened to be my sixteenth birthday - and I’d lay in bed until almost noon.

There’d been nothing planned, of course. I would have been surprised if Luke had even remembered (it was always Beth who remembered things like birthdays and anniversaries), and I wasn’t expecting anything.

I was going over to Alfie’s later for a party he’d arranged for me. He’d invited the girls, a few others from our year, and a few lads from Josh’s rugby team. His mum and dad – notoriously relaxed about this kind of thing - were staying overnight at some fancy hotel in town for a Christmas party.

But as I hauled myself out to bed and toward the bathroom, the door to Beth and Luke’s bedroom was pulled open, and Beth emerged.

By that point, I hadn’t seen her for almost two weeks, and the sight of her was a shock.

I stopped still in the hallway, unsure of what to do or say. I wanted to disappear, but since that wasn’t possible, I considered taking a few steps backwards into my bedroom and closing the door. She stared at me with a strange look on her face for a few long, terrible moments. The look wasn’t hostile, which was, I suppose, what I’d been expecting. She was sad, but the way she looked at me was soft and surprisingly tender.

Then, all at once, she moved toward me. Four or five strident steps, and she wrapped me up in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, Jude,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

I found myself pressing a hand to her back, warm under her pyjama top. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. I didn’t know what she was apologising for.

“I’m sorry too,” I said, and I felt her hug me a little tighter.

“I love you, okay? I’m sorry, and I love you.”

I said, “Okay.” And then, “I love you too.” I wasn’t sure we’d ever said it to each other before.

She kissed my head, though since I was as tall as she was, it was a sort of kiss on the side of it. She pulled back to look at me thoroughly.

“Happy Birthday. Sixteen, huh? You’re basically an adult now.”

“You’re going to send me down the mines tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“Nah, not on a Sunday. First thing Monday, though.” She gave me a wink and let me go, edging toward the bathroom. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Tell Luke to put the coffee pot on, will you? Then I’ll make us some bacon and pancakes. How about that?”

I blinked, then nodded.

“I’ll bring your gifts down in a bit. Go put some clothes on, birthday boy.”

And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom. I stared at the closed door for a minute, though maybe I was waiting and listening to see if she’d break down again as soon as she was alone. I didn’t hear anything except the sound of the shower being twisted on and the spray hissing into the bath.

Beth told me some years later that when she’d been lying in bed all those days, wondering and thinking about why this had happened to her – to them – she’d concluded that she was to blame. When I asked what she even meant by that, she said that every day since our parents died, she’d had the chance to be a mother to me. She’d had the chance to step up and prove that she could be a mother to someone who needed one. She’d concluded, and the universe had apparently agreed, that she hadn’t done a very good job of it. Therefore, she couldn’t be trusted with a baby of her own.

It was nonsense, of course. But I think it helped Beth in some strange way. To feel like she could, one day, be good enough.

Luke had given me a hesitant smile, as though afraid to hope that she’d turned a corner when I’d gone downstairs and told him Beth was in the shower and she’d asked him to put the coffee pot on. When she came down, she looked fresh and well-rested. She’d kissed him on the cheek and went immediately to the pantry cupboard for the flour.

It felt almost normal as we sat down to eat crispy bacon and pancakes, both drizzled with the last of the syrup.

“These are delicious; thanks, Beth.” My mouth was half full as I spoke, which would normally have annoyed her. This time, though, she just gave me an indulgent smile and took a sip of her coffee.

“So, what’s your plans today? Doing something nice with Ellie?” she asked, face bright.

I looked down at my plate. “Ah, yeah, I’ll see her later. A few of us are going over to Alfie’s later to stay the night. We’re gonna watch some films and play pool.”

She nodded. “Are his parents okay with it?”

Technically, his parents were okay with it. But normally, when I stayed at Alfie’s or Josh’s, Beth or Luke would call their parents to check if it was fine. Check what time I should be dropped off and picked up, check that we weren’t actually going out on a murder and rioting spree across the island. I’d cleared it with Luke already, and he knew Alfie’s parents weren’t going to be there. He knew because he’d also been invited to the same Christmas party they were going to – it was for small business owners across Jersey – and they’d spoken about it on the phone. He’d taken a bit of coaxing but agreed in the end, fears allayed by whatever Malina (Alfie’s mum) had told him. Beth was usually much harder to convince. I didn’t expect any difference this time. And I didn’t want to ruin her mood by having an argument about it.

Dread curling in my stomach, I looked imploringly at Luke.

“They’re going to the Lavine Christmas Party,” he said. “But they’ve assured me they’ll be checking in and they’ve got their neighbours keeping an eye out.”

“That’s tonight?” she asked and Luke nodded, before taking a large gulp of his coffee. “Oh, thank Christ, we don’t have to go.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, sounding relieved.

Beth looked at me again. I decided that if she said I wasn’t to go over, then I’d accept that.

“So you and the boys and the girls at Alfie’s house, unsupervised.”

“The girls aren’t staying,” Luke supplied before I could.

“They’re not,” I confirmed. “They’ll be there for a bit but Ellie’s dad will be picking her up later. He’d never let her stay over.”

“Hmm,” Beth said. “No, but Georgia’s parents might and if they think Ellie is there.”

“I swear, they’re not staying.” And they weren’t. George had a midnight curfew so they would be there late, but they weren’t staying. This whole thing seemed ridiculous to me since what they were afraid might happen between a bunch of horny teens left unsupervised could just as easily happen between 6 p.m. and midnight.

“Okay,” she said at last. “I’m trusting you. It’s your birthday – you’re sixteen now – and you should be able to have a good time with your friends. Be sensible though, please. Don’t let us down.”

I gave her an appreciative smile. “I promise, I won’t.”

“Okay, hurry up and finish that and we can open your gifts,” she said and stood up to carry her plate to the sink.

My gifts turned out to be an iPad, a pair of noise cancelling headphones, and a book voucher. I was a little stunned, stammering out my thanks before giving them both a hug and disappearing upstairs to set it up. There was a voice message from Ellie on my phone, singing me happy birthday and telling me she couldn’t wait to see me later.

Alfie’s read: ‘Happy Birthday Dickhead’ and Josh’s was just a birthday present and beer emoji.

I thought about Caspien. Would he have bought me a gift had he been around? I didn’t think he knew when my birthday was; couldn’t remember it ever coming up in conversation. I went to his Instagram and checked for anything new. Nothing. The last post was his own birthday post over a month ago. It had 656 likes. I wondered if the pervert was amongst those 52 comments.

Surely he wouldn’t be stupid enough to comment on an Instagram post of his underage boyfriend, lover, whatever he was? Curiosity crept, spidery, across my brain. I wanted to know more about this pervert tutor of his.

I glanced down the comments, clicking on any usernames that stood out, anyone who sounded like a teacher or a pervert. I had that same trembling rage I had whenever I thought about him, about how disgusting he was, how he should be in prison or, at the very least, not teaching students privately.

I wondered again whether I should tell someone, Gideon, at least. Had he suspected anything at all? What would he do if he knew?

What had Caspien said to him that day as I’d listened? If he sees you here, if anyone sees you here, and they tell him, how will you explain it?

How would they have explained it?

My whole body drew up, a sharp realisation narrowing to a pinpoint.

If that was his tutor, then that remark made absolutely no sense. His tutor’s presence in the house could be explained quite easily. Perhaps there’d be some difficulty with it being a Saturday, but it wouldn’t be entirely implausible for his tutor to be in the house altogether.

I thought back to when I’d confronted him in his bedroom before I’d kissed him. The fear in his eyes when I’d said I knew his identity, but more importantly, how that fear disappeared when I knew it was his tutor.

It wasn’t him. I’d been wrong. It’s just that Caspien had let me believe that I wasn’t. His words took on an entirely new meaning then: If he sees you here, how will you explain it?

Did that mean Gideon and he knew each other? It could have been a generalisation, that he meant ‘if anyone sees you here’ it would be hard to explain, but some spidery inkling in my head told me that it was the first; Gideon knew this man. This man knew Gideon.

It was killing me not knowing the identity of this fucker. This man who had so easily wrapped his arms around Caspien and pulled him close, who Caspien had allowed to do that. Now I knew the feeling I got in my chest whenever I thought of it: jealousy.

I thought of the note inside the book again: Caspien, my beautiful boy, let me be yours.

Love, X

I felt it like an electric shock to the chest then, that ‘X’.

What if it wasn’t, as I’d assumed, the ‘x’ someone puts on a birthday card? What if X was his name? I sat up and looked at the comments again, scanning each one for something that would tell me if X was a name and if this X followed him on social media.

My heart sank when I saw there were a lot of followers with X in their usernames. I checked all of them. He didn’t appear to be among them.

I needed a new plan.

I had no clue what I was going to do once I found out who he was; maybe I wasn’t going to do a thing. But not knowing who he was was driving me crazy, and with Cas completely gone from my life, it seemed as good a way to spend my time as any.