“That’s what you’re worried about?” James’s voice is shaking. “That’s all you care about?”
“Of course. What else?”
“You should care about your daughter, for fuck’s sake!”
Dad snorts. “Don’t be so naïve, James.” His cold gaze lands on me. “You should have considered where your priorities lie sooner than this, Lydia. The family can’t afford you being like this.”
The walls of my room are moving in on me. I sway against James and cling to him tight.
“You can’t just send Lydia into exile and act like she doesn’t exist!” James exclaims. I feel his hand shaking on my back.
Dad stands and lifts the case off the ground. His face is bright red as he grabs the handle, snatches up the travel bag, and strides toward us.
James steps into his path.
“Out of my way, James.”
“Even if you do send Lydia away, the news will be out in a month or two at the latest. It won’t change anything. You’ll just have destroyed our family for nothing!”
A second passes. Then Dad drops the bag, raises his hand, and—
I react on instinct.
I throw myself in front of James as Dad swings. The blow lands on my cheek and ear, so hard that my body is swung around and black dots dance before my eyes. There’s a ringing in my ears, getting louder and stronger, and suddenly I can’t tell up from down. I lose my balance and try to grab on to anything to hold me up. Just as James’s arms catch me, everything blacks out.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I come around. Seconds, or minutes? I think I’m lying on the floor. I can make out the sounds of loud voices, which make my head ache all the worse. The throbbing in my temples is getting harder by the moment. I try to open my eyes.
Someone is kneeling beside me, gently shaking my shoulder.James. He’s saying my name, again and again, and every time he does so, it sounds more desperate.
I blink, and gradually my surroundings take a solid shape again. I’m lying by the door to my walk-in wardrobe. James has nestled my head in his lap, and he’s stroking my arms. His eyes are wide, but when he sees that I’m conscious again, he sighs with relief. Dad is standing beside us, looking down, the suitcase still in one hand.
I might be imagining it, but there’s a split second when I think I see a flicker of relief in his eyes. But only for a second. The next moment, he pulls his phone from his trouser pocket, presses a button, and holds it up to his ear.
He looks me in the eye and says, without a flicker of emotion, “Percy? Would you please come upstairs and carry my daughter’s bags to the car? Lydia is moving out.”
Then he looks away from James and me, steps across the cases, and leaves the room.
It feels as though someone has put their hand around my throat and squeezed. I run my fingers cautiously over the place where he hit me, and I can’t hold the tears back any longer.
“It’ll be OK,” James whispers, holding me tight. “Don’t worry. We’ve got this.”
But, for the first time in our lives, I don’t believe that my brother can protect me from what’s coming.
3
Ruby
“What’s the car all about?” I ask Wren, after a few minutes driving in silence along the country lanes toward Pemwick. The only sound is the music crackling from the tinny speakers. It’s just started raining out of the blue, and I’m expecting the flimsy windscreen wipers to give out at any second. Or to fall off. They squeak louder with every sweep. Wren seems to be used to that though.
“There have been a few…financial challenges in the Fitzgerald household,” he answers after a brief pause. “The end result of which is George here.”
I look around the inside of the car yet again. It really doesn’t look like a George. To be honest, it doesn’t even look worthy of a name at all. The seat covers are in brown cord, with faded patches and an ingrained smell of cigars and old man. “You really named your car George?”
“I didn’t. Erm…a friend of mine did that.” Wren turns left while fiddling with the radio—that seems to be the only part of this thing less than twenty years old. Even so, there must be adodgy connection, because every time he turns a corner, Wren has to give it a whack to get the music going again.
“Ah,” I say, and then there’s silence between us again. I don’t want to dig any deeper into what he meant by “financial challenges.” Wren and I are practically strangers. We have nothing in common apart from that one incident in the past and our mutual friendship with James. I shuffle awkwardly in my seat. Why did I even get into his car?
Wren shoots a sideways glance at me, then fixes his eyes on the road.
