Page 14 of Van Cort
BEFORE
RHETT – AGE SEVEN
The two boys ran like the wind was lifting them from the ground to help.
Faster and faster.
Together.
The house loomed behind them both, with an angry father bellowing their names. They didn’t know what they’d done – never did, but this time they’d both taken a beating.
Rhett looked sideways, as West tried getting past him, and found another gear. No way was he letting West get to the boathouse first, despite the fact that they were running away.
He veered left towards the woodland track, cutting the corner of the vast lawn so he could reach the gravel first, but a loud shout of pain cut through the sound of his own feet.
Looking back, he saw West on the ground, rolling and tumbling down the hill.
Limbs clashed with each other, and he could see untied shoelaces flinging around.
He snatched a glance back at the house to see where their father was.
He was walking towards them, all fuming and fury and noise, a bottle in his hand.
Rhett ran over as fast as his seven-year-old legs could manage – faster than running away, faster than they’d ever run before.
He grabbed hold of West’s hand and started pulling him up and along, not caring for the cries of pain still coming from his brother.
They had to get away. Together. There wasn’t any other option now that Father was home.
Maybe they could sneak back in tonight when it was dark, or maybe they’d have to stay on the island in the old cabin.
He didn’t know. He just knew he had to get them somewhere safe.
West cried the whole way. He limped, barely able to put his foot on the ground.
It didn’t matter to Rhett. He just kept pulling and dragging until they were at the boathouse, and he was able to push his brother into the small boat.
He pulled the cord to start the engine – pulled and pulled, but the ripcord wouldn’t ignite the engine. It just kept whizzing and then nothing.
Rhett turned to look back for his father as they drifted.
So close now. Too close.
“Help me,” he said to West. “He’s coming. Help me pull.”
West sniffed back his tears and dragged himself to the back of the boat. They both grabbed the cord. They pulled and pulled together, desperately trying to make it work, and eventually the engine roared to life.
The boat immediately cut through the water, sending heavy waves back towards the shore, and Rhett powered them towards the only safety he could think of.
He held the tiller hard, with both hands, trying to keep hold of the direction like he’d been taught, but the speed, his age, and the waves were causing the boat to zip and swerve.
Finally, as the shore was left behind, he got the hang of it again.
It was quiet after that for a while. They didn’t speak.
They let the dull hum of the engine guide them to what Rhett hoped was a good hiding place.
He’d only steered this boat once before, but he remembered how.
West might not have cared at the time, but Rhett memorised every moment of old Charles – the groundsman – taking them fishing.
He knew that one day they’d need an escape, and today was that day.
“Why does he do that to us?” West asked, sniffing. Rhett shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know why, but that was the way their father had always been when he was home. He hurt them. Said nasty things. “What did we do?”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought he’d like the pictures we did.” Rhett did too. They’d both spent a long time trying to make the house look like it did. They’d even drawn their mother on the pictures, or what they thought she looked like. They didn’t know. There were no photographs of her in the house to copy.
They were happy, colourful drawings, drawings of what a family should be like, according to Nanny Juliette and the fairy tales she told them.
But their father had ripped them up in front of them and shouted.
He shouted so loud, as he threw the pieces of paper at them, that they both cowered in the corner of the room.
He called them names and said it was their fault, and then he hit West so hard that the table full of Father’s drinks crashed over as West collided with it and then the wall.
For the first time, a strange feeling had started to build in Rhett.
He didn’t know where it came from, what it was, or what to do with it, but he moved across the room to put himself in front of West. His fists balled up at his side.
He thought maybe that he could protect West from another hit if he shouted ‘please’ enough.
Or that maybe he could hit back. It was anger.
That day, Rhett found anger.
He did protect his brother.
But he took the pain that West would have instead.
Their father, in his rage, stumbled and fell. That was their chance, and Rhett grabbed hold of his broken brother, and they ran.
“We’ll forget about him,” Rhett said, staring at the island as it came into view. “Just us from now on. You and me. I don’t care about anyone else.”
“But he’s our father.”
“Not anymore. We’re running away.”
West looked up at Rhett, confused. “Where?”
“The island.” West turned his head, weakly, to look across the water towards it in the distance. “We’ll live there.”
“But what about the music room?”
“What about it?”
“I haven’t learned yet. We said we’d…”
Rhett ignored that. He didn’t care about the music room. He was getting them to the island, and nothing else mattered. He didn’t know what they were going to do when they got there, or if they’d stay, but it was getting dark and Father was always worse when it got dark.
He looked at West’s face, which was bulging on one side. It seemed strange, like they didn’t look like each other anymore. But they were like each other. They were exactly like each other in every way. That’s what twins were. And no one was going to make them look any less like each other again.
“It’s not like anyone cares about us anyway,” Rhett said, scowling. “They just get paid to like us.”
“They don’t?”
“No. Cook said one day that we were spoiled.”
West sagged further down, leaning sideways. “She did not. She’s nice to me and-”
“She did. She said it when she thought no one could hear. She was talking to Nanny Juliette. She thinks we’re bad and rotten.” West winced as he moved his leg, and a sob of tears followed. “Must mean they don’t like us. We’ll be better on our own.”
“Nanny stuck up for us, though?”
“No. She doesn’t like us either.” No one did. They were alone, and no one cared.
They both went quiet again and watched the island getting closer, whilst Rhett kept checking behind them.
It didn’t look like anyone was coming, but he wasn’t sure how long that would last. Maybe they should go further than the island?
He didn’t know what was further than the island, though.
Charles said they shouldn’t ever go out on their own. It was dangerous, he said.
It was dangerous at home.
“I feel funny. And I’m cold,” West said. Rhett was cold, too, but as he looked at West, he realised that his brother was almost blue and the bulge on his face was getting bigger. He looked around the small boat, hoping to see a blanket or coat. There wasn’t anything.
“We’ll be there soon.” Last time they went over to the island, there was food and warm clothes waiting for them, a fire too.
Cook had done a big picnic for all of them after the fishing trip.
She said it was nice for her and Charles to have a day off and enjoy the scenery.
She probably wished the boys weren’t there that day to spoil it.
Rhett hated her, and Charles, and his father.
That day, Rhett decided he hated everyone but West. “We’ll be okay when we get there. Safe.”
By the time they reached the island, West was so blue Rhett didn’t know what to do. He steered into the small dock and tried to pull up alongside the jetty, but now West was talking strangely, and he wobbled and fell when he tried to stand.
Rhett tied the boat off as best he could and tried helping West out of it. They’d only got off the wooden deck and as far as the first path before Rhett heard the sound of an engine coming in the distance. He looked back into the murky light and tried to keep dragging his brother.
“Quickly,” he said. But West wasn’t listening. He fell and stumbled again, this time into some wet dirt, and it didn’t matter how much Rhett tried, he couldn’t lift his brother to get them away.
He looked back to their boat.
They could go further than the island.
But he hadn’t tied it off well enough, and it was drifting out into the water.
The noise of the other boat’s engine grew louder and louder, and he watched as a light cast out from the front of it swung back and forth.
Panic and fear started swirling in Rhett’s stomach.
What could he do now? There wasn’t another way off the small island that he remembered, and now their boat was gone.
He heaved and heaved, using everything he had to get West off the cold ground and towards the cabin, but West wasn’t even making a noise now. He was just lying there with his face all bulgy and blue – so blue.
Tears crept up and out of Rhett. He pulled West up into his lap and held on tight, frightened and desperate for someone to find them who cared.
No one on that boat that was coming cared.
Father didn’t, so why would anyone else?
Whoever it was would take them back, and then it would all start again until Father was gone.
And even when he did go away again, the servants would lie to them and keep them hidden in that house, not letting them see anyone else or talk to anyone else.
They wouldn’t help when the beatings happened either.
Maybe they laughed about it. Maybe they’d start doing it too?
Both of their names were being shouted now. Rhett recognised the sound of Charles as he called and called, like he cared where they were. He didn’t. No one did. He was just worried about his job. So, Rhett stayed quiet and rocked West gently, as the torchlight swayed over them.
“We’ll be okay here,” he whispered. Flickers of gold on their wet clothes shone in the light, like tiny flecks of dust coating them.
Rhett thought it might have been angels coming to save them.
Their mother, maybe. “Just you and me. We’re safe now.
” They weren’t, and Rhett’s tears came harder because he knew that.
There were no angels for boys like them. There wasn’t anything left to do.
The eventual sight of the boat pulling alongside their smaller one made Rhett cling on tighter to West. It hadn’t worked. Rhett had failed. He didn’t get them away from his father or that place, and he couldn’t get them away now either.
He tucked his head into West’s shoulder and kept rocking, repeating the word sorry until he heard footsteps getting closer.
“No,” he said, as a pair of hands tried to pry them apart. “Leave us alone.”
Charles didn’t listen. He tugged until Rhett fell backwards, and West was shrugged up into his arms. “Stupid boys,” he said, as he started walking back to the boat.
“I told you not to go out on your own.” Rhett scrambled up and chased after him, swinging his fists at Charles’s back to try and make him put West down.
“We’re not going back!” Rhett shouted. “You can’t make us. Let him go!” Charles didn’t. Despite Rhett’s shouts of fear, hammering fists and pleas for help, they were both put on the boat and heading towards the mainland in minutes.
Rhett curled around his brother for the journey back and listened to Charles as he spoke to someone on the phone. “One of them isn’t. West. Yeah, he’s breathing, but it could be a fractured skull. Looks bad. They’re both pretty banged up.”
“We’ll get him better,” Charles said when he’d finished the call. “Doc’s on his way.” He walked over to the boys and tucked a blanket around them. “You’ll both be alright.”
Rhett sniffed up his last tear.
No, they wouldn’t. Not back there.
He’d never cry again, though. Never.