Angel Cake Read online

  But Kurt stares her down, and she shrugs, takes a meringue and bites into it, and slowly the sharpness dissolves from her face and she smiles, a soft, sweet, smile.

  I blink, looking round the table. Kurt sighs and closes his eyes as he bites into his cream sponge. I don’t think he’s worrying too much about walnuts and chopped dates now. Frankie hesitates over her slice of chocolate cake, then she caves in and tastes it. Her eyes widen, and her lips form a little ‘o’ of pure delight.

  ‘What the heck do they put in this stuff ?’ Frankie whispers. ‘I never tasted anything like it. Awesome!’

  Kurt sighs. ‘No wonder they call this place Heaven!’

  ‘I suppose Dan did us all a favour,’ Lily says grudgingly. ‘Not just with the free cake, either. His stunt with the flaming exercise book was cool. It got us out of morning lessons, after all.’

  Her face darkens as she frowns at Frankie and me. ‘And then I got out of afternoon lessons as well, thanks to you two… and whichever moron stole that flea-bitten rat from the biology lab.’

  ‘Oh?’ Kurt asks, all innocence.

  ‘Didn’t you hear? Someone nicked Mr Critchley’s rat while the fire alarm was ringing,’ Lily explains. ‘Probably some animal rights nut who thought it was still legal to experiment on animals.’

  ‘It is still legal,’ Kurt says.

  ‘Not in schools. The Head says that rat was Mr Critchley’s pet,’ Frankie points out.

  ‘Maybe,’ Kurt shrugs. ‘Maybe not. I don’t trust him. He used to keep rats in the lab and kill them so the kids could dissect them, just to show stupid, random stuff, like how long a rat’s intestine is.’

  ‘Yuck,’ Frankie says. ‘That’s like something from the dark ages!’

  ‘It wasn’t so long ago,’ Kurt says. ‘My dad went to St Peter and Paul’s, back in the nineties, and Mr Critchley taught him. Dad got excluded for three days, once, for refusing to cut up a rat.’

  Lily pulls a face. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she says. ‘I bet your dad’s some saddo hippy loser, just like you.’

  Kurt blinks. ‘My dad’s dead,’ he says quietly. ‘He and my mum were killed in a car crash when I was three.’

  A shiver runs down my spine, and my cake fork drops on to the tabletop with a clatter.

  Lily is mortified. ‘I’m sorry!’ she whispers, her face pale. ‘I didn’t know, Kurt, honest…’

  ‘Oh, Kurt,’ Frankie echoes. ‘That’s just so sad!’

  He shrugs. ‘I was only a toddler,’ he explains. ‘I don’t remember much about them, but I live with my gran, and she tells me stories of the things Dad used to do. I couldn’t believe it when I heard the rat story. I never did like Mr Critchley, but knowing that he got my dad excluded like that –’

  ‘The loser!’ Lily says angrily. She has changed sides instantly. ‘I’ve always said Critchley is a creep…’

  ‘And he still keeps a rat in his classroom,’ Frankie breathes. ‘What a sicko!’

  ‘I guess my dad might have been a bit like me,’ Kurt is saying. ‘He was the sort of person who stood up for what he believed in, and… well…’

  Lily’s mouth drops open. ‘It was you!’ she gasps. ‘You stole Mr Critchley’s rat!’

  Kurt smiles. ‘I prefer to think of it as a rescue,’ he says.

  ‘But what… where…’

  ‘Don’t worry, Lily,’ Kurt assures her. ‘The rat is in a safe place.’

  I am glad Lily is sitting on the other side of the table, because that means she can’t see the twitching pink nose that pokes out briefly from Kurt’s rucksack, then disappears again.

  ‘Hang on,’ Lily argues. ‘Where exactly…’

  I chew my lip. If Lily spots the rat, things could get very nasty. A repeat performance of the canteen rat-riots is not what Heaven needs at all.

  Luckily, at that moment the steamed-up cafe door swings open and Dan Carney comes in, his black hair plastered to his head, wings dripping.

  ‘Dan!’ Lily yells. ‘Over here! I’ve been saving you a seat!’

  Dan picks his way through the crowded cafe ‘Hey!’ he says. ‘You wouldn’t think it could be so hard to give away free cake!’

  ‘You should have ditched them into the nearest bin,’ Lily says.

  Dan frowns. ‘No, I wanted to do it properly,’ he says. ‘Move up, Frankie, huh?’ Frankie shuffles along into the seat beside Lily, and Dan flops down next to me with a wink. Lily’s smile has turned upside down, but my heart just about flips over.

  ‘I handed one to a woman whose umbrella had blown inside out,’ Dan is saying. ‘Then there were two little kids in wellies and a guy selling The Big Issue on the corner. I gave him three.’

  Dan hangs the dripping angel wings on the back of his chair, grinning, and I find myself grinning right back. He shrugs off his wet jacket to reveal a tight black T-shirt with Heaven printed across the chest, and that’s kind of appropriate as right now I think maybe I’ve died and gone there.

  Being invisible is dangerous, obviously, because once you start to materialize again you feel pretty grateful to anyone who happens to notice you’re alive. That’s all it is, I tell myself. It’s not like I am falling for a boy who tears up exercise books and sets fire to his desk.

  Even I can see that would be a very bad idea…

  I finish my last mouthful of strawberry cream sponge with a sigh.

  ‘Oi,’ Lily says, jabbing Frankie in the ribs. ‘Didn’t you lot say you had to be going?’

  ‘Did we?’ Frankie echoes.

  ‘Yes, you did,’ she insists. ‘Places to go, things to do, that’s what you said.’

  ‘I’d better head off, anyway,’ Kurt admits. ‘My gran will be wondering where I am.’

  ‘I, also,’ I say. The three of us get to our feet and Lily grins and shifts along a little to sit closer to Dan. Then her face falls, because Dan stands up too, saying he can’t let us go out in that rain, he’ll walk with us, bring the big umbrella.

  ‘You only just got here!’ Lily protests.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Dan shrugs. ‘No hassle.’

  Lily scowls. ‘Well… I guess I’ll come too.’

  We pull on damp jackets, push our chairs under the table. ‘Not leaving the wings, surely, Dan?’ Frankie teases, and he laughs and pulls them on. The cafe is quieter now, with just a few lingering customers and the little-brother waiters wiping down tabletops. A tired-looking woman with the same caramel skin as Dan is sweeping the floor.

  ‘Won’t be long,’ Dan tells them. ‘Five minutes, OK? I’ll help you clear up.’ He ruffles the hair of the littlest brother on his way out.

  That’s how I end up walking down Lark Lane in a downpour, squashed under a big umbrella with Frankie, Kurt, Lily and a brown-eyed boy in dripping angel wings. Lily, who has managed to hide her own umbrella, links arms with Dan.

  ‘It must be tough, Anya,’ Dan is saying. ‘Starting over in a whole new country where you don’t even speak the language…’

  ‘Yes, it is!’

  ‘We’ll help you, though,’ Frankie says. ‘That’s what friends are for. Right?’

  Kurt and Dan nod, grinning, but Lily rolls her eyes.

  ‘Try talking a bit more,’ Kurt suggests. ‘Get to know people.’

  ‘I don’t have the words,’ I explain. ‘Is all… tangled up in my head. Yes? People do not understand!’

  ‘We understand,’ Dan points out. ‘Your accent’s weird, but it’s kind of cute too!’

  I decide maybe I will try to talk more often, if Dan Carney thinks my accent is cute.

  ‘Whatever,’ Lily says crossly. ‘Just don’t make such a fuss about it, Anya. You’ll be OK.’

  For the first time since we got to England, I think maybe I will.

  We leave Frankie outside her flat at the end of Lark Lane, wave goodbye to Kurt at his gran’s little terraced house near the main road. Lily’s house is a smart Victorian semi with a pretty front garden, the kind of place I imagined us living in, and I try not to dislike her f
or having what I wanted and didn’t get.

  She pauses beside the blue painted gate, giving Dan her sparkliest smile.

  ‘Want to come in and dry off a bit?’ she asks. ‘My parents will be out till late, and I’ve got that new Katy Perry CD…’

  Before Dan can answer, a light goes on inside the house and two figures can be seen moving about inside.

  Lily rolls her eyes skywards. ‘Oh, great,’ she huffs. ‘Another time, OK?’

  ‘See you, Lily,’ Dan calls, then turns to me. ‘Where now?’

  ‘Across the park,’ I tell him. ‘Flat above fish and chip shop.’

  Now it’s just Dan and me, under the umbrella, and the rest of the world seems to fade as we go through the gates into Princes Park and squelch across the grass, dodging puddles.

  ‘Boy, am I in trouble,’ Dan sighs, shaking his head. ‘The school are bound to write, or ring, or something… I don’t usually do stuff like that, Anya. I lost the plot, y’know? It’s not like I was trying to burn down the school. I just didn’t want to read my work out in class, that’s all. No big deal.’

  We walk past the boating lake, and Dan stops short, his face all frowny and anxious. ‘You must think I’m a real loser.’

  I shake my head. I can think of a lot of words to describe Dan Carney, but loser isn’t one of them. ‘No,’ I tell him. ‘Not a loser.’

  Dan rakes a hand through ink-black hair and swears under his breath. ‘How come I always get things so wrong?’ he growls. ‘What is it with me?’

  He kicks out at a broken-down bit of wall just beside the far gate, then slumps down on to it, head in hands. I stand for a moment in the pouring rain, then Dan tilts the umbrella and pats the wall beside him and I sit down too. The wall is damp and cold and uneven, but it doesn’t seem to matter because Dan is right next to me. The umbrella tilts forward, shielding us from the world, so that just our legs and boots stick out into the rain.

  ‘I feel like a loser,’ Dan huffs. ‘It’s just… Miss Matthews asked us to write about personal stuff, right? Then she asked us to read it out, but private stuff is supposed to stay private! I didn’t want the whole class knowing my business. So when Lily handed me the lighter… I didn’t even think, I just wanted to get rid of what I’d written. When I get angry, I act first and think later. Big mistake, huh?’

  That’s kind of an understatement. Dan must have wanted to keep his writing secret pretty badly if he was ready to set fire to it rather than read it out in class.

  ‘Bet Fisher excludes me,’ Dan says, kicking out a bit of crumbling brickwork. ‘Mum’ll be really upset, and Dad will go crazy, and things will get even worse at home. Nightmare. Stupid cafe. Stupid Dad. Stupid school…’

  The dark, scowly frown fades from Dan’s face and he sighs heavily, shoulders slumped. Now he doesn’t look angry so much as lost, a sad-eyed boy in wet angel wings with all the cares of the world on his shoulders. He looks at me sideways.

  ‘Don’t know why I’m telling you all this,’ he says. ‘You don’t even know what I’m saying, do you? Not all of it, anyway. Just as well. I’m not much of an angel, that’s for sure.’

  I want to tell Dan that I understand a lot more than he thinks, but I can’t find the words, so I just smile. Dan smiles back, his brown eyes shining, and then, before I can even see it coming, he leans across and kisses me softly.

  I have never been kissed before.

  Dan Carney smells of milkshake and vanilla. The umbrella drops to the ground and cold rain falls on us like confetti, but Dan’s lips are warm and sweet as sugar frosting. Then he pulls back, moving away from me.

  ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘We’d better get you home.’

  Home? My mind has emptied of everything except Dan. I don’t want to come back into the real world, but Dan seems to be in a hurry. He scoops up the umbrella and pulls me to my feet. ‘Where did you say you lived?’ he asks. ‘The flat over the chippy, right?’

  He takes my hand, steering me through the park gates and across the road. The chip-shop windows are streaming with rain, and the hot stink of frying fish drifts out as we stand on the pavement, discarded chip wrappers at our feet.

  Dan frowns. ‘One thing you should know about me, Anya – I’m kind of a mess, OK? Bad news.’

  ‘Bad news?’ I echo.

  ‘Sorry, Anya… I’ll see you around.’

  He walks away, crossing the wasteground that’s littered with broken glass and scrunched-up chip papers, hunched under the big white umbrella.

  That’s the day I begin to believe in miracles. Nothing has changed, but everything has… all because of a boy in angel wings.

  My life is still a disaster zone. I am still sharing a room with my little sister in a scabby flat where the smell of chip fat and vinegar clings to everything, but none of that seems to matter any more… because of Dan.

  I lie awake late into the night, listening to the sound of people outside, laughing, singing, fighting. When I sleep, my dreams are full of a tall boy with caramel skin and angel wings, a boy who kissed me in the rain.

  The next day I go to school with a little less dread in my heart. My heart races a little as I walk through the corridors, but there’s no sign of Dan. He’s not in the corridors, he’s not in class, he’s not in the canteen… Dan Carney has vanished.

  Frankie flops down next to me at lunchtime. It looks like I have a new friend – we bonded over the strawberry meringues, a match made in Heaven. Frankie is an outsider, a misfit, a million miles away from Nadia and the cool, popular kids I knew back in Krakow… but then I’m kind of a misfit myself, these days. The laughing, pink-cheeked, hockey-mad girls I imagined I’d meet don’t seem to exist outside the pages of the books Dad used to send me.

  ‘So… Dan Carney is gone?’ I ask her, trying to be casual. ‘In trouble?’

  ‘Big trouble,’ she says, biting into a hot dog. ‘He’s been excluded. Mr Fisher takes that whole burn-the-school-down stuff very seriously.’

  ‘Excluded?’

  ‘Banned from school for a few days,’ Frankie explains. ‘Still, it’ll take more than that to change Dan.’

  The disappointment must show in my face, because Frankie starts to grin. ‘Wait a minute, Anya… he was flirting with you, right? In the cafe? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for him!’

  ‘Dan is a friendly boy,’ I whisper.

  Frankie snorts. ‘How friendly, exactly?’

  I can’t quite meet her eye. ‘In the park, we talk. And then –’

  ‘He didn’t kiss you – did he?’ she squeals.

  I bite my lip.

  Frankie shakes her head. ‘Seriously, Anya, don’t go there. Dan is bad news… a scally, a troublemaker. He’s not boyfriend material. Don’t be fooled by the angel wings.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I promise, even though I know it’s already too late.

  On Wednesday, a letter arrives from Krakow. I recognize Nadia’s curly handwriting and rip it open, grinning, but the smile soon fades. Nadia’s upbeat chat makes me feel a million miles away from my old friends, and I guess that’s exactly what I am.

  When I read the bit about Agatta moving into my old seat next to Nadia, my eyes blur with tears. Well, what did I expect? That Nadia would go on sitting next to an empty desk, just because I happened to move away?

  What would Nadia say about Dan Carney? What would she say about Frankie, and Kurt? I’m not sure she’d be impressed with any of them, but that’s too bad.

  They’re all I have right now.

  That afternoon, I drag Kazia along to the park, hoping to bump into Dan, but it’s empty except for a few shivering mums with kids in pushchairs. The next day it’s the same. The day after that, pining for a glimpse of melted chocolate eyes, braided hair and slanting caramel cheekbones, I find one of the free cake vouchers in my blazer pocket and take Kazia along to the cafe.

  I have a lot of questions, questions I just couldn’t ask Frankie. If a boy kisses you, doesn’t that mean something? Like, maybe you’re going o
ut? In Krakow, it would mean that, but Liverpool might be different. Still, shouldn’t Dan have been in touch by now? He didn’t ask for my phone number, but maybe he could call at the flat or something… anything?

  We push open the cafe door, find ourselves a corner seat. Dan’s mum is there, and the little brothers, but there is no sign of Dan. Kazia and I share a milkshake and eat frosted cupcakes, and finally I pluck up the courage to ask one of the brothers where Dan is.

  ‘He’s not well,’ the boy tells me solemnly. ‘He’s got the flu.’

  I blink. Excluded from school and ill? Maybe that’s why I haven’t heard from him.

  I tell Frankie this next day, at breaktime.

  ‘I bet the flu is just a cover-up!’ she says. ‘Dan’s parents probably don’t even know he’s been excluded! That boy is such a chancer!’

  She narrows her eyes. ‘How come you were at the cafe, anyhow?’ she wants to know. ‘You weren’t looking for him, were you? Anya, that’s not how it works! Besides, you promised you wouldn’t fall for him!’

  ‘Fall for who?’ Kurt asks, wandering up to join us.

  ‘Nobody,’ I say.

  ‘Dan,’ Frankie says, and Kurt raises an eyebrow.

  I wish the floor would open up and swallow me.

  ‘He’s trouble,’ Frankie insists. ‘He was OK the other day, with the cakes and the umbrella and stuff… that was a surprise, I admit. Mostly, though, he’s mad, bad and dangerous to know… that’s boys for you, I guess.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Kurt protests.

  Frankie sighs. ‘Never trust a boy, that’s what my mum says,’ she tells us. ‘They lie, cheat, break your heart and then disappear and leave you to clean up the mess.’

  ‘Dan’s not like that,’ I say.

  ‘They’re all like that,’ Frankie insists.

  ‘How come your mum thinks boys are such bad news?’ Kurt wants to know.

  Frankie shrugs. ‘Dad left us when I was a kid,’ she explains. ‘We never saw him again. Mum had to do the whole parenthood thing alone.’

  ‘I’m not like that,’ Kurt says.

  ‘Well, no, that’s for sure,’ Frankie says. ‘You’re just a weirdo geek with a mania for small furry animals.’