Finding Audrey

And so the only piece left in the jigsaw is Linus. But it’s a big piece.

Frank just showed me the footage of Mum laying into Linus in the sitting room and I stared in total disbelief. First, I couldn’t believe Mum could blame Linus for anything. Second, I couldn’t believe he’d only just got my text. Third, I couldn’t believe he’d come over to see me.

So he hadn’t given up on me. He didn’t hate me. I hadn’t spoiled everything. I’d been wrong on pretty much everything. As I watched it for the second time I felt pretty sheepish and I could tell Mum felt even worse.

‘I don’t sound like that,’ she kept saying in horror. ‘I didn’t say that. Did I?’

‘You totally sound like that,’ said Frank. ‘You sound worse, actually. The camera was flattering.’

He was rubbing it in. She doesn’t sound quite as shrill as that in real life.

‘So, I need to apologize to Linus.’ She sighs.

‘So do I,’ I say quickly.

‘So do I,’ says Frank glumly.

‘What?’ Mum and I swivel to look at him.

‘We had a fight. About LOC. He was talking about the tournament and I got . . . well, jealous, I suppose.’

Frank looks like an overgrown schoolboy. He’s got ink on his hands and is staring miserably at his knees. He doesn’t know about the laptop yet, and I would love to whisper it in his ear to cheer him up, but I’ve had enough of going behind my parents’ backs. For now.

‘So.’ Mum is in her brisk mode again. ‘We all need to apologize to Linus.’

‘Mum, that’s all very well,’ I say in a flat tone. ‘But it’s too late. Linus’s parents are emigrating. He’s at the airport right now. We’ve missed our chance.’

‘What?’ Mum looks up as though scalded.

‘We could make the airport.’ Dad looks alertly at his watch. ‘Which airport? Anne, we’ll take your car.’

‘Which flight?’ demands Mum. ‘Audrey, which flight?’

What are my parents like? They’ve watched too many Richard Curtis films, that’s their trouble. They’ve gone soft in the head.

‘He’s not at the bloody airport!’ I expostulate. ‘I said that as a joke. Don’t you think you’d know if Linus was emigrating?’

‘Oh.’ Mum subsides, looking highly embarrassed. ‘OK. I just got carried away for a moment. What shall we do, then?’

‘Invite him to Starbucks,’ I say after a moment’s thought. ‘It needs to be at Starbucks. Frank, you text him.’

It’s actually pretty funny. When Linus arrives at Starbucks we’re all sitting there at one big table, the whole family, waiting for him. He looks totally unnerved, and for a moment I think he’s going to run away, but you know, Linus isn’t a runner-awayer. After about five seconds he comes forward resolutely and looks at us all in turn, especially Mum. And last of all me.

It takes him about thirty seconds to realize.

‘Your glasses!’

‘I know.’ I can’t help beaming.

‘When—?’

‘Dunno. They just fell off. And . . . here I am.’

‘So, Linus,’ says Mum. ‘We would all like to apologize to you. Frank?’

‘Sorry I got ratty, mate,’ says Frank, turning red.

‘Oh.’ Linus seems embarrassed. ‘Er . . . that’s OK.’

They bang fists together, then Frank turns to Mum.

‘Mum, your turn.’

‘OK.’ Mum clears her throat. ‘Linus, I’m very sorry I took my worries and fears out on you. I got completely the wrong end of the stick. I know how good you’ve been for Audrey and I can only apologize.’

‘Right. Um.’ Linus looks even more embarrassed. ‘Listen, you don’t have to do this,’ he says, looking around the family. ‘I know you were all stressed.’

‘We want to.’ Mum’s voice gives a sudden waver. ‘Linus, we’re all very fond of you. And I should not have shouted at you. It was a bad time, and I really am sorry.’

‘Sorry!’ chimes in Felix, who has been chomping on shortbread biscuits all this time. ‘We have to say sorry to Linus. Sorry, Linus.’ He beams. ‘Sorry, Linus.’

‘Felix, you’re fine,’ says Linus.

I can see Felix gazing at Linus, his dandelion-clock head on one side, as though trying to work out what we’re all doing here.

‘Did Mummy cut your hair?’ he says, as though he’s cracked it. ‘Did you cry? Ben cried because he was happy.’

‘Er, no, Felix, no one cut my hair,’ says Linus, looking baffled.

‘Ben cried because he was happy,’ reiterates Felix.

‘So that’s me,’ says Mum. ‘Chris? Your turn?’ She turns to Dad, who looks a little startled. I’m not sure he realized this was a go-round-the-table apology.

‘Er . . . hear, hear,’ he says. ‘What she said.’ He waves towards Mum. ‘Count me in on that. Understood?’

‘Understood,’ says Linus with a little smile.

‘And, Linus, we’d like to give you a little present to make amends,’ says Mum. ‘A little gift. Maybe a theatre outing . . . or a theme park? You choose.’

‘I can choose anything?’ Linus looks secretively from Mum to Dad. ‘Anything I want?’

‘Well, within reason! Nothing too expensive . . .’

‘This wouldn’t be expensive, what I’m thinking of.’

‘It sounds great!’ says Dad at once, and Mum frowns at him.

‘I want to play in the LOC qualifiers with Frank,’ says Linus. ‘That’s what I want more than anything.’

‘Oh.’ Mum stares at him, discomfited. ‘Really?’

‘You’re in a team already,’ says Frank gruffly. I can tell he’s super-touched from the way he won’t even look at Linus.

‘I want to play in your team. They’ve got a reserve. They don’t need me.’

‘But we haven’t got a team!’ says Frank, and there’s a sudden depth of misery to his voice. ‘I haven’t got a computer, we don’t have a team—’

‘Yet,’ chimes in Dad, bubbling over. ‘Yet.’ He grins madly at Frank. ‘Yet.’

‘What?’ Frank stares blankly at him.

‘You haven’t got a computer yet.’ Dad gives one of his stage winks. ‘Just look out for a big brown box, is all I’m saying. But no more hacking my emails.’

‘What?’ Frank looks almost heady with hope. ‘Seriously?’

‘If you follow our rules and don’t make a fuss when we tell you to stop playing,’ says Mum. ‘If there’s any trouble, it’s going out of the window.’ She gives a satisfied little grin. ‘You know I’ll do it. You know I want to.’

‘Anything!’ Frank seems almost beyond speechless. ‘I’ll do anything!’

‘So you can play in your game,’ says Dad, who looks almost as fired up by this as Frank. ‘I was reading a piece about it in the Sunday Times magazine. I mean, this LOC is a big business, isn’t it?’

‘Yes!’ says Frank, as if to say Finally! ‘In Korea it’s an official spectator sport! And they have scholarships for it in the States. Actual scholarships.’

‘You should read the piece, Anne,’ says Dad. ‘What’s the prize pot – six million dollars?’ He grins at Frank. ‘So, are you going to win that?’

‘We don’t have a team.’ Frank suddenly deflates. ‘We’ll never get a team together. It’s, like, a week away.’

‘Ollie could play,’ suggests Linus. ‘He’s not bad, for a twelve-year-old.’

‘I could play,’ I offer, on impulse. ‘You know, if you want me to.’

‘You?’ says Frank derisively. ‘You’re crap.’

‘Well, I can practise, can’t I?’

‘Exactly!’ says Mum. ‘She can practise. So, that’s sorted.’ She glances at her watch, then at Linus and me. ‘And now we’ll leave you two alone, for Audrey to . . . Well, for you to . . .’ She pauses. ‘Anyway. You don’t want us hanging around embarrassing you!’

OK, the thing is, no one was embarrassed till she said the word embarrassed. As it is, Linus and I wait in awkward silence while they all get up, and Felix drops his biscuit and wants another one, and Dad starts looking for his BlackBerry, and Mum tells him he didn’t have it, and honestly, I love them to bits, but could my family be any more annoying?

I wait until they’ve well and truly left and the glass door has closed behind them. And then I turn properly to Linus and look at him.

‘Welcome to my eyes,’ I say softly. ‘What do you think?’

‘I like them.’ He smiles. ‘I love them.’

We’re just looking and looking at each other. And I can feel something new between us, something even more intimate than anything we’ve done. Eye to eye. It’s the most powerful connection in the world.

‘Linus, I’m sorry,’ I say at last, wrenching my gaze away. ‘I should have listened – you were right—’

‘Stop.’ He plants his hand on mine. ‘You’ve said it. I’ve said it. Enough.’

He has a point. We’ve sent about five zillion texts to each other since I came back. (Only Mum isn’t supposed to know how many, because I was ‘resting’.)

‘So . . . are we OK?’

‘Well, that depends,’ says Linus, and I feel a lurch of fear in spite of myself.

‘On what?’

Linus looks at me thoughtfully for a moment. ‘On whether you can ask that blonde woman three tables away directions to the circus.’

I start laughing in a way I haven’t for ages. ‘The circus?’

‘You’ve heard the circus is in town. You’re desperate to see it. Especially the elephants.’

‘OK. I’ll do it.’ I get up and do a mock curtsey. ‘Look, no glasses! Just eyes!’

‘I know.’ He looks up, smiling. ‘I told you, I love them.’

‘You love them?’ I preen myself.

‘You.’

Something catches in my throat. His gaze is fixed on mine and there’s no doubting what he meant.

‘Me too,’ I manage. ‘You.’

We’re sinking into each other’s gazes. We’re like starving people gorging on cream cakes. But he’s challenged me, and I’m not going to wuss out, no way. So I wrench myself away and go to pester a strange blonde woman about the circus. I don’t look back once, the entire time I’m talking to her. But I can feel his eyes on me all the time. Like sunshine.