Bad Company(12)

I felt like crying. I was ashamed and angry. Ashamed of J.B. and angry at Ralph Aird.

And at that moment I don’t know which of them I hated more.





Chapter Seven


March 8th

How can I ever face Ralph Aird again? Ralph Aird, the scumbag of the school with a father to prove it – or so I’d always thought. But am I any better than he is? Is this God getting his revenge on me for being so rotten to Ralph in the past? Well, I don’t deserve it. Thank goodness for Diane. She ran with me outside the supermarket and stayed with me while I cried my eyes out. I’ve never cried in front of anyone before, but I can do it with Diane. She understands. ‘I don’t blame you for hating Ralph Aird,’ she said. ‘He’s just so glad to see you in the same boat as he is now.’

And do you know, I’d never really thought about it like that. But it’s true. That’s why he’s always got that smirk on his face. ‘But you’re better than he is, Lissa,’ Diane told me. ‘You can rise above him. He’s a low life. Common as the muck on the bottom of my shoe.’

To make matters worse Ralph Aird couldn’t let it be. He came out of the supermarket and stared taunting me. ‘Your dad’s coming out with the boys and me next week. We’re going roller-blading. He’s even going to give me a loan of his hat!’ And he and his mates started circling Diane and I and laughing.

But Diane’s a true friend. She pushed them out of the way with a sneer. She can look like a queen sometimes, a queen who is about to have someone beheaded. Someone like Ralph Aird. ‘You’re better than he is, Lissa. Better than all of them.’

That’s what makes Diane so special. She always makes me feel so good, so proud of myself. That’s a true friend.

‘And as for your dad,’ she snapped as we hurried away from Ralph’s taunts.

J.B. I corrected her. I’m divorced from him now. If mums and dads can get divorced, then so can I.

‘I know how I’d feel if my dad worked in a place like that. Wore a funny hat and looked so stupid.’ She shivered at the very thought of it. ‘I’d feel exactly the same way as you do. I’d hate him.’

She is so right. We’re so alike. It’s all J.B.’s fault, and Ralph Aird’s. I hate them both.

J.B. tried to talk to me that same night. Mum suddenly had to go for a walk with Jonny and Margo, so we could be alone.

He switched the TV off and pocketed the remote control, obviously not taking any chances that I’d volume him out.

‘I’m sorry about today,’ he said at once, pacing nervously up and down the living room. ‘I should have told you I was starting work there.’

‘You call that working,’ I jeered at him.

‘Yes. I call it working,’ he said. ‘I’m being paid and I work really hard for my money.’

‘Do you get extra for looking stupid?’

He tried to make a joke of it. ‘I do look stupid, don’t I?’

There was no answer to that. It would be useless even talking to him. I stood up to leave the room. ‘It’s not permanent, Lissa. I’ll get something else, but for the moment, I’ll work at anything. I almost had to beg them to give me a try there,’ he tried at a laugh again.

He almost had to beg them? Was that supposed to make me feel better? It only made me feel more ashamed of him.

‘I just want to earn money. To keep out of trouble.’

‘It’s always what you want, isn’t it?’ was all I said to him. ‘You don’t care how much you embarrass me.’

I pushed past him. He still tried to talk on, but I wouldn’t listen.

‘It won’t be for long. I’m waiting for word about something else. A good job. Something better.’

His last words followed me as I bounded upstairs.

I slammed the door of my room so hard the house seemed to shudder. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t. Not because of him. Instead I threw myself on the bed and started to think.

And do you know, what he said began to make sense. Working should be all that matters. If he had a job, any job, there would be less chance of Magnus Pierce drawing him back into his clutches.

A chance of another job? A better job? Was that the truth, or was he telling lies just like I always did? If it was the truth, maybe I’d been too hard. Maybe, I thought, I should go back downstairs and just sit with him. Nothing dramatic, like throwing my arms around him and begging his forgiveness. But maybe, just to sit with him would let him see I was ready to take one small step.

I was halfway down the stairs when I heard his urgent, whispered voice on the phone. ‘Don’t phone here any more. I can’t take the risk. I’ll get in touch with you.’