Another Life Altogether: A Novel - By Elaine Beale Page 0,136

they seemed to be trying to keep low but which kept rising in excited little swells. Curious about what they might be discussing so heatedly, I crept along the landing until I reached the top of the stairs. I peered over the banister and saw the two of them almost immediately below me. They stood close together, puffing on cigarettes. I took a soft step back and lowered myself to the floor. Then I pressed my head against the banister, so that I was beyond their view but could look down on their heads, swathed in a misty swirl of smoke.

“See, it’s ruddy foolproof, really, Ted,” Frank was saying. “There’s no chance that anybody would find out.”

“Well … I don’t know, Frank. If our Mabel … Well, she’ll break my bloody neck.”

“Look, you’ve no worries there.” Frank slapped Ted on the shoulder. “She’ll never know, I guarantee it. So, what do you say? Want to give it a try?”

Ted took a long drag on his cigarette. Frank moved restlessly about from foot to foot as he waited for an answer.

“Well,” Ted finally said, “I don’t suppose I’ll get a better offer.”

“You’ll not regret it, Ted,” Frank said, his tone obviously delighted. “Let’s shake on it, shall we?” From above, I watched as they clasped each other’s hands.

“Frank. Frank, what are you up to?” It was Mabel. She stepped out of the living room into the hall. I backed away, farther into the darkness.

“Nothing, love, just having a little chat with Ted here about looking for a job, that’s all.”

“Aye,” said Ted. “He’s been ever so helpful, has Frank.”

“That’s good,” Mabel said, yawning. “Terrific. And God knows you could use some advice. Now, come on, Frank, I think it’s time for us to go. Evelyn’s been talking my ear off about flipping wedding china, and Mike’s fallen asleep in his chair.” With that, the three of them drifted back to the living room. I sat there for a while, leaning against the banister, feeling even more uneasy about Ted and Frank’s blossoming friendship.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

SPRING CAME GENTLY, A GRADUAL OPENING OF EVERYTHING THAT started with the brave white blooms of snowdrops on the verges along the roads and rose in a slow crescendo of new leaves and flowers that transformed the landscape from dismal shades of brown and gray and black to a sea of shimmering green dotted with bright flags of color. I celebrated my fourteenth birthday in the middle of a mild but rainy March, and by the time April arrived the fields were green with newly planted potatoes or emerging stalks of wheat. It seemed that the world outside our house was a place of hope, a place where, every year, the barrenness of winter was replaced by the thrill of life and emerging abundance. In the mornings, as we traveled to school, I leaned against the window and watched it flash by, wishing I could reach out and grasp all that optimism, pull it to me, and press it into my chest. But while the world around was glimmering with renewal, winter had settled inside me, a frozen fallow field.

On the seat next to me, Tracey chatted away, chirpy like the birds in the newly lush trees. And though she made me laugh sometimes, with her mocking of the teachers and her jokes about the other kids at school, much of the time I found myself tuning her out the same way I’d learned to tune out Uncle Ted’s snoring, my father’s rants about royalty, and my mother’s monologues about bridal wear or the pros and cons of disposable tablecloths. And, like my family members, I discovered that Tracey didn’t seem to mind that I wasn’t really paying attention, that my absent grunts meant that I had drifted far away.

If I did pay attention to anything on those bus rides, it was to the sounds from the back, where Amanda sat, talking and laughing with her friends. I still longed to be there next to her, wanted it more than anything, but ever since that morning at the bus stop when I’d tried to kiss her I’d felt so embarrassed that I could barely even speak to her.

“You all right, Jesse?” she asked at the bus stop one April morning shortly after the Easter holidays. I’d arrived just as the bus was pulling up, and I had to run all the way along the high street to catch it. “You look worn out,” she said as she waited