Ben Cheetham - The Society of Dirty Hearts

“Hang on,” interrupted Eleanor. “I thought when you said you wanted to talk, you meant you were going to explain why you stood me up, not dump your problems on me.”

“I guess you could say my problems are part of the reason I stood you up. Look, can I come over?”

“No.”

“Well, can we at least meet up? Please, Eleanor, I wouldn’t ask unless I really needed someone to talk to.”

More silence. A sigh. “We can talk on the phone. That’s the best I can do. Okay?”

“Okay.” Julian was unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “Thanks for this, Ellie. I knew I could count on you,” he added quickly, not wanting to risk irritating her into retracting her offer. After all, talking on the phone was better than not talking at all. He told her about the argument with his dad.

“You want to quit uni,” Eleanor said, taken aback. “No wonder your dad’s angry.”

“Yeah, but like I said, what’s the point me wasting my time and their money doing something I don’t want to do?”

“But you don’t really want to work at the factory, either, do you?”

“No, but I’ve got no choice in that.”

“Why? It’s your life. You can do what you want with it.”

Julian sighed down the line. “You don’t understand. The factory is Dad’s life’s work, his legacy. He’s always dreamed of passing it down to me someday, and of me passing it down to my children. He’s got this whole big thing about giving future generations of our family the kind of security his parents couldn’t give him. If I told him I didn’t want to take it over, he’d be…Oh, man, I don’t even like to think about what he’d be.”

“And if you let him mould you into something you’re not, what will you be?”

Julian knew the answer to that — he’d be miserable and resentful, and end up hating himself and everyone around him, his dad most of all. He also knew that knowing that made no difference whatsoever. “If this was just about my dad, maybe I could say no. But this isn’t just about him, it’s about my mum too. And, no matter what, I can’t risk upsetting her.”

“How do you know she’d be upset?”

“Because she wants what Dad wants.”

“Are you sure about that? I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit, Julian. I know your mum, and I’m certain that what she wants more than anything is for you to be happy.”

“Perhaps I can be happy at the factory. Maybe I’ll get to like it in time.” Julian sounded unconvincing, even to his own ears.

“Maybe.”

Julian chewed his lip, like he always did when wrestling with uncertainty. “So you think I should talk to my mum?”

“I don’t see you’ve got any choice.”

Eleanor was right on both scores. All his mum had ever wanted was for him to be happy, and she was the only person who could change his dad’s mind. But the thought of bringing them into conflict sat uneasily on his shoulders. He huffed a breath down his nose. “Why does my dad have to be such a hard-nosed bastard? Everything’s got to be his way or no way at all. Why can’t he compromise just this once?”

“I guess he’s used to getting what he wants.” Eleanor added meaningfully, “Like someone else I know.”

“I’m no way as stubborn as him. I know how to compromise.”

“Really? You mean like when you refused to give it even a chance to see if it could work between us with you at uni.”

Oh man, you walked right into that one, Julian thought. “Please, Eleanor, my head’s not up to this.”

“Well do I at least get to know what all this has got to do with you standing me up?”

“Sorry, I’m not up to explaining that either.” When Eleanor let out a low snort as if that’s what she’d expected him to say, Julian hastened to add, “I will tell you, just not right now.”

“When then?”

“When I’ve sorted out what I’m going to do.”

The line was silent a moment. Eleanor’s voice was softer when she spoke again. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.”

After hanging up, Julian made his way home, taking his time, thinking over what he wanted to say to his mum. He needed to make her realise he was serious about working at the factory — and for the right reasons, too. Only problem was it wasn’t for the right reasons. He didn’t even know the reasons for it. It wasn’t the path of least resistance — that was university. It wasn’t what he wanted — that was unknown. It wasn’t even out of a sense of duty to his dad. Not really. And yet, he sensed, there was a reason, only it lurked far behind his eyes, seemingly beyond the reach of his conscious mind.

“So what do I say?” Julian muttered to himself. “I want to work at the factory because I hate uni and can’t think of anything better to do.” He shook his head. There was no way that would cut it. He tried to catch hold of his thoughts, but they scuttled away into dark holes like rats in a kitchen. “Fucking fuck,” he hissed in frustration. Ever since he’d heard about Joanne Butcher, everything had been in turmoil. He stopped suddenly as if he’d walked smack into a wall. No, he realised, his brow pinching into a frown, this wasn’t about Joanne Butcher. It wasn’t even about the dreams. Sure, those things had compelled him to return home, but they weren’t what threatened to hold him here. That was down to something else, something more recent, more real. Mia. The name rang out in his mind like a bell. Could she be the reason? He doubted it, and yet from the first moment he’d seen her she’d held his attention like no other female ever had. Not because he desired her more than other girls, but because — because of what? He’d quickly come to care for her. Not like a potential lover or a friend. It was beyond that somehow. He didn’t know where the feeling came from or what it might lead to, all he knew was he needed to be close to her and to protect her with everything he had.

But even if Mia was the reason — and that seemed like a big if — he could hardly say that to his mum. He knew what she’d say if he did — she’d say he was infatuated. And maybe she’d be right, but not in the way she meant. No, he needed to give her something more concrete, less intangible. He needed to do the worst thing in the world — he needed to lie.

By the time Julian got home, he’d decided on the lie. He had a whole spiel worked out about how he’d made up his mind to leave university when he realised the factory was struggling. After all, what was the point of him studying business if there was no business left for him to takeover when he graduated? The business needed new blood, new ideas, a fresh injection of energy and enthusiasm. Together, he and Dad would turn things around.

Of course, if he was wrong about the business he’d have no excuse for not returning to university. But he felt sure he wasn’t wrong. There was a tension about his dad’s face, a kind of fear in his eyes he’d never seen before, not even when his mum first got ill.

Julian’s dad was snoring in front of the television. He crept past him to his parents’ bedroom. His mum was in bed. The slackness of sleep gave her face a symmetry it didn’t have when she was awake. She looked like the mother he used to know, only much, much older. He stared at her a long moment, reluctant to wake her. Then, reaching to gently shake her, he said, “Mum, Mum.”

Her eyes flickered open, glassy, struggling to focus. “Julian,” she murmured. “What is it?”

“I…I…” Julian paused, then tried again. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak the lie, not even a few words of it. Then, suddenly, he was leaning forward and tears were streaming down his face. “I’m so confused, so confused, so confused.” He pressed a hand to his eyes as the words bubbled through his lips.