Caramel Hearts Read online

  “Oh really?” snaps Sarah, yanking up her coat sleeve.

  There’s a nasty purple bruise on her forearm.

  “She did that? Are you sure?”

  “No, Liv, I’m making it up. Of course I’m sure! She followed me out of the dinner hall, got me in the toilets. Said my s-stammer was so disgusting, it was stopping her from being able to eat.”

  “Was she on her own?”

  “Yes. So you can’t blame her friends this time.”

  Maddy’s gang of friends can make your life hell if they choose to, and they love that fact that Sarah’s stammer gets worse when they mention it. I always see Maddy hanging back, but Sarah’s been saying for months that she’s even worse than the rest – I thought she was just jealous because Maddy wants to hang out with me now and again. I really wasn’t expecting this.

  “Do you want me to have a word?”

  Sarah looks at me like I have two heads.

  “Are you crazy? It’ll only make things worse. Why do you hang out with her, anyway, when she’s such a cow?”

  It’s not an easy question to answer. “She’s never done anything to me,” I say.

  Sarah doesn’t speak to me the rest of the way home. Even when we part, she ignores my goodbye.

  Gooey Chewy Flapjacks

  When the clouds are grey and it’s raining in your heart, the only thing that can make the skies blue again is a good dose of sweet, chewy flapjack. Golden, sweet and definitely moreish – they’ll bring out the rainbows in your soul.

  INGREDIENTS

  200 g/7 oz unsalted butter

  200 g/7 oz demerara sugar – the good stuff

  200 g/7 oz runny honey (otherwise known as liquid gold)

  400 g/14 oz porridge oats

  70 g/2½ oz mix of rainbow-coloured treats (remember the old saying – “Richard of York Gave Battle in Vain” – that’ll help you remember your rainbow colours!) Try using dried cranberries (red), sultanas/toasted desiccated coconut (yellow) pumpkin seeds (green), sour cherries (that’s artistic licence for blue), prunes (indigo) and sugared violet petals.

  HOW TO MAKE THE MAGIC HAPPEN

  1. Preheat the oven to 180 °C/350 °F/Gas mark 4.

  2. Grease a 20 cm x 30 cm (8 in. x 12 in.) cake tin. Heat the butter, sugar and honey in a saucepan, stirring occasionally. Make a wish as you stir – it’ll help make the clouds go away.

  3. When the butter has melted and the sugar dissolved, add the oats and all the healthy, tasty goodness and mix well. After all, you are what you eat – and you need rainbow colours to make rainbows appear.

  4. Transfer the oat mixture to the cake tin and spread to about 2 cm (¾ in.) thick. Smooth the surface with the back of a spoon (and don’t freak out when you see your face reflected upside down – you should know by now, this is a crazy world, my friend). Bake for 15–20 minutes, until lightly golden around the edges, but still slightly soft in the middle.

  5. Let the flapjacks cool in the tin, then turn out and cut into squares. Take a bite and watch the rainbows explode, right side up.

  Chapter Seven

  Don’t Air Your Dirty Linen in Public

  When I get home, I head straight for my bedroom. After she’s taken back her promise to help me with my baking, and put me under the spotlight with her stupid phone call, I’m in no mood to talk to my sister.

  “Liv, is that you?” shouts Harriet from the kitchen.

  “Who else?” I slam my door shut and blast Johnny Cash at high volume, then sit on the floor with my back against the door. When Mam left for Ashgrove House the first time, I took her ancient record player and vinyl collection. That’s when I discovered Johnny Cash. Hatty says I’m like an old lady, says the music is too dark and depressing, but I think the melancholic guitar riffs are lovely. It’s like the music understands how I feel. So now, whenever Mam goes to Ashgrove House, I commandeer the record player.

  The door jerks, banging against my back.

  “Liv!”

  “What?”

  “I need you in the kitchen.” The door nudges again but I stay put. “What are you doing in there?”

  “I’m getting changed! I’ll be down when I’m dressed.”

  I don’t move until I hear her stomp down the stairs. In the kitchen, I find Harriet leaning against the counter, glowering at a couple of bags of groceries.

  “What’s for tea?” I ask, peering into the bags.

  Harriet slams a cupboard shut. Like a loser, I jump.

  “What’s wrong with you now, Hatty?”

  “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

  “What have I done?”

  “Nothing! That’s the point! You come in, stomp up the stairs without even saying hello.”

  “So?”

  “So? I had a life in Edinburgh. I should be with my mates or working on assignments. Not playing Mam to a spoilt brat who can’t even say hello!”

  “All this is because I didn’t say hello?” I roll my eyes, knowing how much it winds her up. “I’m sorry. Hell-o-o. There, better?”

  “There’s no need to be sarcastic. As usual, you’re missing the point.”

  “So enlighten me,” I say.

  She looks like she wants to shake me but thinks better of it.

  “Would it hurt you to help a bit round here? You’re fourteen – old enough to stand on your own two feet. When I was your age, I was looking after you. You’re too lazy to unpack a few bags of shopping!”

  “So that’s what this is about. Unpacking shopping. Why didn’t you just ask?”

  “I shouldn’t have to. And it’s not just that. It’s uniforms, and nicking off school and trying to burn the place down.”

  “I thought we were done talking about that this morning,” I say.

  Hatty slumps down on a kitchen chair and rubs the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. I should leave her alone. She looks wrecked. Her hair is straggly and her skin sallow. And she’s put on a few pounds. I try to keep my mouth shut as I unpack the food. Bread, beans, cornflakes, cheese, butter, milk, pasta: the essentials to keep us going, but nothing exciting. And all Asda’s own brand.

  “No treats, I see.”

  “No, Liv, no treats. We only have your child allowance and my student loan – which is running out fast. If I’d got that job, then we’d have been just about OK.”

  I stop, suddenly realizing what the real issue is.

  “You didn’t get it? I thought you said the interview went well.”

  “It did, but they reckon I’m over-qualified. Called me today, advising me to continue with my studies. Chance would be a fine thing!”

  Guilt plucks at my stomach.

  “You’ll go back to uni, Hatty, and you’ll forget all about this place. You’ll finish your degree.”

  “I used to think so.”

  As soon as the shopping is away, I put the kettle on to boil and make some sandwiches for tea. Spooning coffee into Harriet’s favourite “carpe diem” mug, an empty feeling wells in my stomach. As I hand Harriet her drink, the emptiness turns into anger. None of this is fair on either of us. Why should we suffer because of Mam? I decide to try and cheer Harriet up by asking about her favourite topic: uni.

  “Have you heard from your uni friends lately?”

  “No.”

  “Will you tell me about that time the lad came streaking through the uni bar with his pants on his head? That was dead funny.”

  “Another time, Liv. I’m not in the mood.”

  I butter four slices of bread and grate a thin layer of cheddar on top of each. I prefer the cheese in slices but it doesn’t last as long.

  “So you haven’t heard from anyone?”

  “No. I’m trying not to call too often.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want them to get sick of me or think I’m a pest.”

  “Why would they think you’re a pest?”

  “They’re all so together: nice families and stuff. I don’t want to be bothering th
em with my freaky family.”

  “Thanks!” I say, only slightly hurt. “But that sounds dumb to me.”

  Harriet shakes her head and sighs.

  “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

  She trusts me one minute, then acts like I’m a kid the next. Frowning, I put the tops on the sandwiches and cut them down the centre. Triangles for me, rectangles for my sister.

  “If I was you and I’d had bad news, I’d call my friends. Who else can you count on?”

  Harriet’s face twists into a smile.

  “You know what? You’re right. I’ll call Robin. She’s always happy to listen to a good rant.”

  I follow Harriet into the passageway and lean against the wall, munching one of my sandwiches. As soon as Robin answers the call, Harriet signals for me to skedaddle. I do, but I can’t resist listening in from the landing as I read through the flapjack recipe, trying to figure out where to get the stuff from. There’s quite a bit needed, and some of it sounds expensive. As I read, I listen in to Hatty’s conversation. I have to shove my hand over my mouth every time she says something using Edinburgh slang. But then her words take an unexpected turn.

  “Yeah, I’m OK. Tired. And missing Edinburgh. You’ll never guess what Liv did this time.”

  There is a pause. I listen closely, my giggles falling away as I grip the banister.

  “Ah no, this is a good one,” Harriet chuckles into the phone. “Even I can hardly believe it. She only went and set the house on fire.”

  There is a long pause this time.

  “It wasn’t on purpose. It was a cooking accident. Which is weird, seeing as no one in my family cooks.”

  Shame and anger battle it out in my gut. How dare Hatty discuss me like this? If Mam taught us anything, it’s that you don’t air your dirty linen in public.

  “She was making shortbread and it caught fire. The oven’s filthy and the ceiling’s all black. I swear she’s a right handful.”

  My anger sizzles and bubbles, threatening to erupt. I should stop eavesdropping, but I can’t tear myself away.

  “Oh, Robin, not this again! I told you before, I know you’re concerned about me, but I can’t put her in a foster home. I’m her big sister. I have to look after her.”

  My jaw drops and it feels like a ton of something cold and horrible has just landed on my head. Whoever this Robin is, she wants Harriet to dump me in care!

  Memories of when we were both in foster care for a few months come flooding back. I was just five and the people looking after me were really nice. They took me to the park and on woodland walks, made me jam sandwiches for tea and let me wear my favourite dresses – even though Mam said they were only for best – but I couldn’t stop crying the whole time. All I could think about was Hatty. Her absence was like a big monster trying to swallow me whole. I can’t even remember what the nice couple looked like – all I can remember is the emptiness. Robin will never persuade her.

  “I know she’s making life difficult, but uni has to wait. I can’t give up on her. Not yet. She has no one else.”

  Hurt swells inside my heart, and I swallow hard. Creeping quietly into my room, I whack Johnny Cash up to full volume and throw myself on the bed, face to the ceiling and jaw clenched – not yet?

  Chapter Eight

  A Regular Little Goody-Two-Shoes

  It’s late when I sneak out of the house to clear my head. The night air feels crisp and fresh, despite the orange tinge to the clouds hovering above the chemical works. I suck in slow, deep breaths and the tension behind my eyes lessens. I sit quietly on the step until I get too cold and I’m forced to walk to warm up.

  Heading for the local shops in the next estate – they should be quiet at this time and if there are any gangs hanging around, I can always turn back – my mind is buzzing with questions. How can I get some ingredients now Hatty’s not going to help me? Why did I have to be so stupid and nick off school? Is Hatty really thinking of leaving?

  The shops are quiet, and the shutters on the chippie are down. I peer into the small corner store, my hand sheltering the reflection from the street light above my head as I squint – trying to find the baking section so I can see how much money I’ll need to get the oats, honey, sugar and rainbow treats.

  “Fancy seeing you here.”

  I vaguely recognize the voice coming from the next shop doorway, and yet I jump.

  “You frightened the life out of me—”

  As I turn, my stomach somersaults. “Maddy, hi… sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “You’re all right. You’re not interrupting nothing. I’m just having a quick drink. Sit down – I could use some company. Want some?”

  Maddy jiggles a small bottle of something emerald-green in my direction. I shake my head.

  “Regular little goody-two-shoes aren’t you?” Delighted with herself, she slaps her knee and laughs, loud and fake. “Oh yeah, I forgot your mam’s an alky.”

  Sure, I think. That’s why you broke your neck to tell Jack earlier. But she seems a bit out of it, so I keep quiet.

  “Sit down then,” she says.

  I wish I’d stayed at home – or at least gone to the shops earlier. Unable to think up a plausible excuse to leave, I do as Maddy asks and join her on the step, tucking back into the shadows.

  “Want a ciggie?”

  She offers a blue and white packet. Again, I shake my head.

  “I’m gonna get offended if you keep refusing me,” says Maddy, blowing a cascade of smoke rings, thinking she’s cool.

  I try to read her expression. When she bursts out laughing, I feel my shoulders relax. A bit, but not completely.

  “I’m only having you on. Don’t look so serious! What are you doing here anyway?”

  “An argument with Hatty. You?”

  “Now, you should never ask someone their personal business. Didn’t your mam ever teach you manners?”

  “Sorry, I—”

  She laughs in my face. “I’m pulling your leg! Jeez, you’ve no sense of humour these days, Liv.”

  Deciding it’s safer to look at the ground, I pick at the rubber around the sole of my khaki Converse. The only decent item of clothing I own.

  “Sure you don’t want some of this? It’s got a good kick.”

  The green liquor sloshes around the bottle as Maddy swallows a glug.

  “No thanks.”

  “It won’t kill you. Scared you’ll end up like your mam?”

  I know if she offers again, I’m going to have to accept. I’m already pushing it.

  “Go on – one or the other. I’m not joking this time.” There’s a hard edge to her voice. “It’s no fun smoking and drinking on your own.”

  It’s my get-out-of-jail-free card. I take the cigarette and hold it to my lips. I’ve done this before and know how to look like I’m smoking without actually taking it back. I take a light drag, let the metallic taste fill my mouth, hold it for a few seconds then expel the smoke into the cold night air.

  “You didn’t take it back. Look, like me.”

  Trust her to notice. My heart’s thumping as Maddy snatches the cigarette and sucks hard on its tip, relishing the taste. She hands it back to me triumphantly.

  “Your turn. Properly.”

  This time, the smoke scorches my throat and fills my lungs. The roof of my mouth burns like when you’re too hungry to wait for your pizza and you bite into the hot, melted cheese. Only it’s a hundred times worse. I start choking, making embarrassing retching noises. Mad Dog snatches the cigarette away.

  “That’s disgusting. You’ve soaked the end. Slobbered all over it.”

  But she continues smoking it anyway. The way she sucks and blows on the ciggie makes me feel sick. After a while, she finally ditches it. The red embers glow as the butt arcs through the air, landing a few feet away. I watch the red glow fade and disappear, wishing I could do the same.

  “So, what’s this argument about?” asks Maddy.

  I don’t know wh
at to say. I don’t mind hanging out with her now and again, but Sarah’s the only one I share my intimate secrets with.

  “Nothing, really. Just getting some space, you know?”

  “I’ve never seen you here this late before. It must be serious…”

  I shrug, making a mental note to stay well away in future.

  “Fine. Don’t tell me then.”

  I take a deep breath. I’ve got to say something. People are volatile when they’re half-cut and I can’t risk upsetting Maddy.

  “Did you see Sarah this lunch time?” I ask.

  Of all the things I could say, why did I choose this? Now is not a good time. Maddy puckers her lips and stares into the distance. It’s a while until she replies.

  “Yeah. I saw her.”

  “Only—”

  “What, Liv? What’s she been saying about me now?”

  “Nothing,” I say, quickly retracting any plans to mention the bruise.

  “Yeah, well I heard otherwise. She was overheard calling me a nickname – Mad Dog, that’s it, isn’t it?”

  Trembling, I shrug.

  “So I had to have a word with her.”

  “Just a word?”

  “I said so, didn’t I?” But the way Maddy’s lips press together as she glares at me, I know she’s lying. “While we’re talking about having words… what was that crap you were telling Jack earlier? About setting the house on fire.”

  I’m glad she’s dropped the other subject, but I know we’re on dodgy territory with Jack, so I try to dismiss the conversation quickly.

  “Oh that? I was baking and set the place on fire, that’s all.”

  “You set the place on fire? Brilliant!”

  “Just the oven. By accident.”

  “Shall we set this place alight? Burn it up?” She holds her lighter flame close to the shop door. The paint scorches and starts to blister. When I see smoke, I knock the lighter away.

  “Don’t!” I say.

  Maddy laughs and puts the lighter back in her pocket. “Will you make something for me?”

  “I dunno if Hatty will let me bake again,” I say.

  Maddy raises an eyebrow.

  “I bet you would if Sarah asked you.”