Storms - Chris Vick

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Arms. Afterwards, he walked her home.

      More than once she saw the curtains flicker in the shadows. She wanted them – Mum at least – to meet him, to see what she saw. But for now she wanted to keep Jake safe. From questions. Because there would be a lot of them.

      *

      So they visited Jake’s family first.

      It was away from the village, at the end of a terrace of cottages, near the cliff tops.

      All the other cottages gleamed smart. Not Jake’s house. Later, Hannah told Bess, it had ‘ramshackle charm’. In truth, the roof slates were loose and covered in moss and the walls were stained grey by summer sun and winter storms.

      But the weedy lawn was freshly mown, and in the corner of the garden Jake had built a pretty pink painted shed for his sister. There were stickers and dream-catchers in the windows. The house was run-down, but it looked like a home.

      They’d hardly got through the door when a boy and a girl appeared.

      ‘You’re the dolphin lady,’ said the girl. Hattie was ten, with dark ringlets, and round eyes like Jake’s.

      ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

      Sean was fourteen. Runner-bean skinny, with straw-blond hair to his shoulders. He was grinning madly.

      ‘You must be special. He don’t normally bring them home.’

      Jake took a firm grip on his brother’s nipple, and twisted hard.

      ‘That hurt!’ Sean yelped.

      ‘Good.’

      Hattie laughed, and poked Sean, joining in.

      ‘Stop. Now.’ Jake’s mum stormed out of the kitchen. She was plump, younger than Hannah expected, with long dark hair and dressed in jeans and a shirt. She glared at her sons, wiping her hands on her jeans, then the hair off her face.

      ‘I’m April.’ She grabbed Hannah by the shoulders and kissed both her cheeks. ‘Come in, love,’ she said, walking back to the kitchen. Jake and Hannah followed.

      The walls had paper peeling off in the corners, showing patches of mould. Wind whistled down the chimney. The kitchen was clean, but crammed.

      ‘We’re having curry,’ said April.

      Hannah spied the pile of veg and the joints of chicken on the sideboard.

      ‘Yes. Lovely.’

      ‘Mum,’ said Jake. ‘She only eats fish. I told you.’

      April sighed, heavily, like that was one thing too many to remember.

      ‘Get Sean to cycle down the Co-op for a bag of prawns.’

      ‘I’m fine,’ said Hannah. ‘I can just take the meat out. Let me help.’ She ran to the sideboard, pushed some letters out of the way and grabbed a chopping board and knife.

      ‘Oh,’ said April. ‘Um, okay.’ She tidied quickly, so Hannah had some room. But she wasn’t so quick that Hannah didn’t see the bills. One, unopened, was from the gas board. Another, open, had FINAL DEMAND printed in ugly, red letters. April saw Hannah’s face. Saw that she had seen, and gave a small, embarrassed smile.

      *

      The evening went well. Hannah was determined it would. She liked Jake’s family and home, and she worked hard at being liked, herself. She answered Hattie’s questions about dolphins. She teased Jake, with Sean. They ate the curry and drank beer and wine.

      Sean and Hattie watched her all the time, carefully curious about everything she did. She forced herself not to lift her little finger off her wine glass, and to use just her fork to eat, in her right hand.

      They asked Hannah about herself, her family.

      ‘Pete Lancaster’s your dad, isn’t he?’ said Sean. She’d heard those words before. Sometimes they made her nervous.

      ‘Yes. He is.’

      ‘He tried to kick us out of here,’ Sean said, stuffing rice into his mouth.

      ‘Sean!’ said April. ‘What my oaf of a son is getting at is that your dad wanted to buy this place.’

      Hannah looked at Jake. ‘Really? Jake never said.’

      Jake turned to Sean. ‘I told you not to say anything.’

      That mad grin was splashed over Sean’s face. He was buzzed by the trouble he was causing.

      ‘You didn’t want to sell?’ said Hannah.

      April laughed. ‘Bless you. We don’t own this house. Your dad tried to get us out so he could buy it from the owners. But we have tenants’ rights. And that counted, no matter how hard he tried to persuade us.’

      The way April had said ‘persuade’, it could mean anything.

      Hannah focused on her food, picking at it with her fork. She’d lost her appetite.

      ‘Sorry. About my dad. I don’t know much about his business.’

      ‘We didn’t want to leave, you see,’ said April.

      ‘Yeah,’ said Sean. ‘We told him where to stick his offer.’

      Jake stared at his brother. Unblinking.

      ‘Well … good … for you.’ Hannah searched for words. ‘You did the right thing. I’m glad you stayed.’ She smiled at Jake.

      April poured Hannah more wine. ‘Sorry, love. We didn’t mean to embarrass you.’

      ‘I’m glad we stayed too,’ said Sean. ‘We’re the only ones that did. All our neighbours are grockles now. Saps. This place is empty in winter.’

      Hannah felt awful. She hadn’t done anything, but she felt blamed. Guilty.

      ‘Shut your mouth, Sean,’ said Jake.

      Sean beamed his crazy grin at Hannah, then at Jake. ‘Make me.’

      Jake leapt up and had his brother on the ground so quickly it made Hannah jump. It looked serious. She thought he was going to punch Sean, till she saw – with relief – that Jake had Sean’s forearms under his knees and his brother’s nose between his thumb and fingers, squeezing. He was playing, but making a point. The kid was hurting, but laughing too.

      ‘Say sorry for being a dick,’ said Jake.

      ‘Get off me or I’ll fart,’ Sean shouted.

      ‘No, you will not!’ said April.

      ‘Dare you,’ shouted Hattie.

      Jake squeezed Sean’s nose hard, then his ear. Sean trumped, loudly. Hattie shrieked with joy.

      April rushed to the cupboard, came back with a broom, and started prodding at her sons as Jake tortured Sean, and Sean wriggled to get free.

      Hattie was holding her nose and waving her other hand to get rid of the smell. She was near helpless with laughter.

      It might have disgusted Hannah. This scene. What Mum would call a display of vulgarity.

      But she didn’t mind. And that surprised her.

      She stood up and stepped back from the awful stench, giving April room as she poked and shouted. April looked at Hannah, pleading: What can I do with them?

      Hannah shrugged. Soon, she was helpless with laughter too.

      *

      Later, Hannah helped April with the washing-up. April said she would do it herself, but Hannah insisted.

      They worked, April humming, elbow-deep in suds, Hannah busy with the tea towel.

      April had been so nice, but Hannah still felt bad, like there was a mark against her. After a while, she put the damp

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