I called Dougie at lunchtime, perched outside on the school wall. My bum was already getting damp but the common room was too noisy. That, and I’d seen Milo saunter in holding hands with Her.
It rang off. I tried again. It rang off.
Dougie picked up on my third attempt. “Audrey, what the hell?” His voice was gruff with sleep. “You woke me up.”
“Shouldn’t you be in lectures?”
“It’s first year. Everyone knows first year doesn’t count.”
I shifted so a different part of my arse sat against the wet brick and bit my lip, knowing he was about to flip. “I’m calling about Dad.” There was a long pause. “Dougie?”
“What’s he done now?”
I heard shuffling and clicking and then loud music echoed down the line. Dougie’s way of drowning out the world.
“He’s…he’s… He wants Mum to sell the house.” I’d bent over on myself just to get the sentence out – like admitting it out loud finally made it true.
Another painful pause. “You’re kidding, right?” he said, finally.
“I don’t think so, no. Mum told me last night.”
“How was she?” he asked quickly, worry lacing his voice. Dougie was very protective of Mum. Though I always found it a bit half-arsed. He’d spent most of last year – her really bad year – staying out all night with his band. And he hadn’t once come home to visit this term, even though it was only an hour’s drive. He overcompensated with words and rage and strops at Dad – chucking fire down the phone, hurling insults through his keyboard. It made Mum adore him even more. While I was the one dealing with the actual physical situation. I was the one forced to play bad cop. Forced to say no to her. Forced to go and see Dad and the kids and play peacemaker as Dougie refused. Forced to keep the house clean in her bad weeks. Forced to call in sick for her. And no thanks, no hero badge for me. Just “Why can’t you be supportive, like your brother?” – as if words were more what she needed, rather than stopping her dying from scurvy or getting fired for being hungover at work.
“She was…” I pictured her flopping onto my bed like a corpse, the disappointment washing over me like I’d been doused with icy water. “How do you think she was? All the progress she’s made has just…imploded.”
“He can’t do this. Surely he can’t do this?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to go see him, I guess.”
“Tell him if he does this, I never want to see him again.”
I looked up at the crisp blue sky, the autumn sun making the bare twigs of trees sparkle. The sky had cleared up since this morning, but everything was still damp. The hum of lunchtime noise echoed through the cold air.
“Tell him yourself.”
“Don’t be like that, Audrey.”
I dug my fingers into the wall. “I’m just saying, it would be useful if you’d help, Dougie. I don’t know what to say to Dad either. You know how he’s all…weird now.”
“Just pretend he doesn’t exist, that’s what I do.”
“Don’t you see, I can’t ignore him. Not if both you and Mum are. Someone’s got to keep us vaguely talking. Plus the twins are our siblings!”
The music in the background inched up a notch. “Half-siblings,” he corrected. “And the shit half.”
“Dougie…”
“And he can’t take the house. It’s ours. What does Mum’s lawyer say?”
“I’m not sure. She was too…” drunk “…ill last night to make much sense.”
“Well, get her to ring her lawyer.” The screechy plucks of his guitar now. He would hang up this phone call and not have to think about it any more. Whereas I, freezing, exhausted, had to go home to a hungover, confused mother with no option to ignore this.
You’re angry at Dad, not Dougie. You’re angry at Dad, not Dougie.
“Hey, do you know anyone called Harry?” I asked, changing the subject to save me from my own anger.
More scratchy chords, a riff of a new song echoed down the line. “There’s Harry Lipton. How do you know him?”
“I started working at Flicker Cinema last night,” I said. “He said he knew you. He’s very…umm…friendly.”
“Did he try it on with you?” Dougie’s voice was harsh again.
“Yes, Dougie.” I rolled my eyes. “He pinned me against a wall and declared his undying love the second I put on my new name tag. Why would he try it on with me?”
“He tries it on with everyone, that’s all. He’s a good guy apart from that though. We hung out a bit in Music Tech. I just don’t want him hitting on my little sister. He’s into films, isn’t he?”
“Well, he works at a cinema, I don’t think that means he’s definitely into films.”
“No no, he is. He makes them. Weird ones. With loads of fake blood and zombies and stuff. Anyway, he’s all right. A bit lost…”
Because you aren’t, I found myself thinking, then felt guilty the moment I’d thought it.
“But be careful. He’s a dick when it comes to girls. Like…”
“Like Dad?” I suggested. The line fell quiet.
“He’s not as bad as Dad,” Dougie eventually replied.