Sure Fire. Justin Richards
Jade’s shoulder. She put her hand over the top of it.
“Just a bit,” Chance confessed. “But, look – we’ll make it work. I’m in the middle of some business right now, quite intense stuff. But that should be over soon. By the end of term, when you come home, we’ll be able to spend some time and sort out where we go from here, OK?”
“Come home?” Rich echoed. “You mean we’re staying up here till the end of term?”
“With the Gilpins?” Jade asked. “While you go back to London?”
Chance looked awkward. “Not exactly. That isn’t what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean, Dad?” Jade asked.
“Look, I haven’t exactly had time to plan this,” Chance told them. “I live in a tiny flat right now. It’s hardly big enough for me, let alone the three of us. And I’m working all the hours God sends. I can’t get you to and from school and cook your meals and look after you and—”
“And change our nappies?” Rich said. “We’re fifteen. We can cope. Mum worked, you know.”
“We’ll discuss it at the end of term, all right?” Chance said.
“And where will we be in the mean time?” Rich wanted to know. “In some poky flat that’s too small for us all?”
But Jade was staring open-mouthed at Chance. “No way. Absolutely no way at all, ever, on this earth.” She looked round at Rich.
And he realised what she had already guessed. “Boarding school is right out,” he agreed. “Not if it’s the last school on the planet.”
“Just till the end of this term,” Chance told them. “Till I can spend some time with you and work this out.”
“No way,” Jade said.
“Never,” Rich told him.
Chance stood up. His voice was quiet, but Rich could sense an undercurrent of determination. “I’m not asking you. I’m your father and I have to decide. I’m sorry, but that’s how it has to work. End of debate.”
“That wasn’t a debate,” Rich said. “A debate involves two points of view and a decision based on the arguments. That didn’t happen.”
“You just decided for us,” Jade added. “You’ve only just met us and already you can’t wait to get rid of us.”
“I’m not talking about it,” Chance said. “Because you’re right – there is no debate. It’s decided.”
“Oh – so suddenly you know what’s best for us?” Jade said. She stood up and glared at Chance. “You abandon us and Mum sixteen years ago and now you’re back and you know best? I don’t think so.”
“Wait a minute,” Rich said. “Sixteen years ago. We weren’t even born then.”
“You didn’t even wait till we were born?”
“Now hold on. Sandy – Sandra,” Chance corrected himself quickly, “left me. It wasn’t my decision. I’d never have left her. Even if…” He stopped abruptly.
“Even if what?” Rich asked.
Chance took a deep breath. “Until yesterday, I didn’t know where your mother had gone, what she’d been doing. Until yesterday, I didn’t know I was a father.”
* * *
No one spoke all the way to the Gilpins’ house. Chance parked the car in a space outside the house next door – outside the rented house that Rich and Jade had lived in for the last few weeks with their mother. Jade doubted he even realised.
“Everything’s going into storage,” Chance explained. “We can sort through all your stuff later, decide what you want.”
“At the end of term, right?” Jade said.
Mr Gilpin answered the door. He shook hands with Chance and muttered something about condolences. He glared at Rich and ignored Jade. He stepped inside and gestured for them to come into the hallway.
Several boxes and carrier bags were lined up against the wall. Jade could see her own clothes spilling out of one of the bags. School books shoved in a box. Rich’s best trainers in another.
“We could have packed our own stuff,” she said.
Mr Gilpin looked away. “Thought you’d be in a hurry to be off.”
“Someone’s in a hurry all right,” Rich said.
“I’d like to say goodbye to Mrs Gilpin,” Jade said. “We didn’t really get a chance at the church.”
Mr Gilpin turned away. “She’s not here. Gone out. Shut the door behind you.”
Chance lifted one of the boxes. “I think we’d best be going,” he said.
As they drove away, Jade watched the net curtains of the front room twitch.
Rich sat in the front and Jade sat in the back of the car.
Jade could see that Chance had angled the mirror so he could watch her. Was he keeping an eye on her? she wondered. Or did he just want to look at the children he hadn’t known he had for the past fifteen and a half years? What did he think? What did he see beyond two fair-haired teenagers with similar features, similar slim build? Only their hair distinguished them – Jade’s was long over her shoulders while Rich’s was short, off his collar and slightly spiky.
“So, tell me about yourselves,” Chance said, trying to be cheerful. “What do you like to do with your time?”
“Get driven about in cars that go too fast,” Jade said.
Chance’s laugh sounded strained, but he eased off the speed slightly. “Right. Anything else?”
Jade slumped back in the seat, looking out of the window as they passed most of the other vehicles on the road.
“I like reading,” Rich said. “I read anything, but mostly I like to find out about stuff. How things work. That sort of thing. Telly’s good too. Hey,” he thought suddenly, “do you have a PlayStation?”
“Sorry. Got a DVD player and a laptop. That’s about it. What about you, Jade?”
She continued to stare out of the window. “I like doing things, not reading about them. Is there a gym near you?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Figures.”
Chance laughed again, only this time it sounded more genuine. “I keep pretty fit, you know.”
“You think,” Jade muttered.
“And my hearing’s fine,” he said. “You into that fitness stuff then?”
“A bit.”
“And then some,” Rich said. “She works out. Runs. She eats loads of fruit and vegetables. Drinks loads of bottled water.”
“It’s good for you,” Jade protested. “You have to look after yourself. Healthy body, healthy mind.”
“Quite right,” Chance agreed.
“Don’t patronise me,” she told him.
“I was agreeing with you.”
“Well, don’t.”
“You’d rather I disagreed with you?” he asked.
“I’d rather you stopped pretending,” Jade replied.
They lapsed into silence.
Jade stared out of the window and Rich turned his head to whisper to her over his shoulder.
“It’ll be OK,” he told her. “We’ll