Thank you for all your incredible reviews so far, you've really no idea what they mean to me! The next chapter sees the introduction of the GSE but its not all doom and gloom. I'm actually really enjoying writing Pete and Allie as friends which is something I thought I would struggle with but don't worry, it won't stay that way forever ;) You know the routine by now: read, enjoy and review. Love El xx
ps. If anyone has any recs for banner making sites, I'd be interested. I'd love to make something for my stories. Or if anyone fancies the challenge, let me know :)
Lara Knight frowned, her pretty features creasing as she tipped the blender jug to the side and watched the dark liquid sludge around. Squinting at the recipe book once more, she huffed, placing the blender back onto the counter and resting her hands on her hips. Outside, she could see a mixture of her and Allie's school friends, their silhouettes bounding through dangling fairy lights and the constant blare of music. She had expected to spend the evening mourning the loss of college, but the more people she spoke to, the more she realised she and Allie couldn't get away fast enough.
"Lara, Lara, Lara," Harry Harding shook his head as he leaned against the door frame. "If you wanted to spend some time alone with me, all you had to do was ask,"
"You wish, crap sack," she shot back, gesturing to the mess on the kitchen island. "I'm trying to make margaritas,"
"Jesus," Harry exclaimed, leaning around her to peer into the blender. "You do realise human shit isn't an ingredient, don't you?"
"I think it might have been the avocado," she turned to him, tapping a perfectly painted fingernail against her teeth. "Maybe it was too ripe,"
"The what?" Harry laughed, his sandy hair falling into his eyes. "Jesus, woman let me look at this. Avocado, lime, chilli…" he dropped his head into his hands. "And you got into UCL?"
"What?" she shrieked. "I did everything it said…"
"..to make guacamole," the handsome Harding man finished for her. "Here, sod off. Unless people want their cocktails garnished with a taco, I think you should let me take over,"
Giggling loudly, Lara let him slide her out of his way, trying not to notice how toned his forearms were as he pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and went about rinsing the mush from the blender.
"OOOPS, I DID IT AGAIN! I PLAYED WITH YOUR HEART, GOT LOST IN THIS GA-…"
They both looked up at the unmistakable sound of Swill's voice booming through the crowd, their eyes wide as they watched Allie practically run into the kitchen and slam the door behind her. She squeezed herself into the gap between the door frame and the book shelf, her head falling back as she held up a finger, signalling for neither of them to speak.
A moment later a brunette tuft of hair appeared and Lara felt Harry start laughing beside her. This boy was all boat shoes and daddy's blazer, his lips pursed as he glanced about the large room.
"Did Alyssa just run through here?" he asked, his voice clipped and perfect Queen's English.
"Nope," Lara answered immediately, twirling a lime around in her hands.
"Who's Alyssa?" Harry asked at the same time, shrugging his shoulders.
The man didn't answer, instead shrugging and heading back out into the fray that was the foyer. As soon as the door shut, Lara gave her friend the thumbs up and she slid herself out again, dusting the cobwebs from her royal blue silk camisole which was tucked into her bejewelled shorts.
"Friend of yours?" Harry asked, not looking from where he was expertly chopping a lemon and popping it into the blender. "He seems nice,"
"Yeah, he's lovely," Allie snorted, coming to lean on the marble counter. "I think his charm peaked when he pointed at my chest and said "I heard you got all A's but they definitely look like D's.'"
Against his will, Harry laughed along with Lara who shook her head and tried to direct a sympathetic look at her friend.
"He gets points for trying," her brother shook his head, still giggling.
"Oh yeah," Allie waved her hand dismissively. "He's studying English Lit at Cambridge so you know, he's a born poet,"
"Aye, aye," Dave's voice boomed through the kitchen as he peered through the door. "Oi, lads, she's in 'ere,"
"Jesus," Allie laughed, running over and dragging him inside by the collar. "I'm hiding here,"
"Yeah, I saw that," he answered, his blue eyes serious. "He givin' you grief or do we need to fuck him up?"
He gestured to Ned and Swill who were stood behind him.
"No, you're fine, he's jus a -…what the hell are you wearing?" Allie giggled, pressing her fingertips to her lips as her eyes landed on Swill.
"Don't fucking start," he told her, pulling at the lapel of his tux and rocking back on his heels. "You said you was 'aving a party. You're posh. So…" he gestured to the suit and Allie felt her heart melt.
"You look gorgeous," she told him, pulling him into a hug and laughing as he laid his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes.
"I look like a cunt," he muttered.
"Oh honey," Allie brushed his hair, tipping his head up and pouting back him. "Want me to cheer you up?"
Before he could answer, the blonde kicked the door open and leaned out into foyer, catching the arm of a tall olive skinned brunette.
"Zophia, this is my friend William," she stepped back and allowed them to shake hands. "He's off to war next month, this is actually his farewell party,"
"Oh my God, really?" the brunette gasped, clutching a hand to her ample chest.
"No," Allie deadpanned. "But he's cute and he's wearing a tux. Does it matter?"
"Well," Zophia grinned, looping her arm through Swill's. "When you put it that way…"
Allie giggled as she watched them disappear into the crowd, Swill craning his head back far enough to mouth "I FUCKING LOVE YOU" at the blonde before he vanished completely.
Dave smirked at her, looping his arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze.
"Any chance you've got more mates who look like that?" he laughed.
"Oh please, just go out and give it some cockney charm," she winked. "Us posh girls love it,"
"Speaking of cockney charm," Harry called, pouring some genuine margaritas into glasses and handing one to Lara. "Where's Pedro? I've got a bottle of JD with his name on it,"
"I thought he'd already be 'ere," Dave shrugged.
"He said he was getting Bov on the way, right?" Lara raised an eyebrow. "He's probably still trying to convince him to put on his prettiest dress and come out,"
"I couldn't find one that complimented my skin tone," Bovver nodded to them as he closed one of the large French doors at the back of the kitchen behind him and shrugged out of his coat. "Why the fuck is Swill dressed like a penguin?"
Allie frowned, a strange feeling making itself known in her stomach as everyone laughed and greeted the mop haired grump. There was no way Pete would miss this party or at least not without calling her. Biting her lip, she walked over to the small oak box mounted on the wall and yanked it open, grabbing her car keys.
"I might go see him," she called to the others, momentarily distracting them from their position crowded around the door desperately trying to get a look at Swill on the dancefloor. "See if he needs a lift,"
"Darlin' I'm sure he's fine," Dave told her. "He's probably on his way now."
"Well then I can save him the walk," she shrugged. "We need more limes anyway given Lara used them all to make fucking guacamole,"
"Piss off," the red head laughed, flipping her the finger. "And a fiver says I can still get Swill to drink it,"
"I'm in for that," Harry grinned.
"Oi, I'll take some of that action," Bovver chimed in, a rare smile on his rugged features. "I've seen that boy eat a kitchen sponge covered in Nutella before."
"I'll be back in 10," Allie giggled, rolling her eyes as she strode out into the garden, taking the path that led through the ivy and out onto the drive where her VW Beetle sat next to her mother's silver Porsche. She eyed it enviously for a moment before turning to her baby blue bug and patting the hood affectionately.
"Don't worry, I still love you more," she told it, hopping in and starting the engine. She meandered through the odd party goer who had decided to go exploring and sped out through the iron gates and onto the road. In the distance, Big Ben glowed through the twilight and she drummed her fingers on the wheel, trying to rid her stomach of butterflies. Something was wrong; she knew it. Coasting faster than she normally would, Allie found herself in Newham 20 minutes later, the Norah Jones CD her mother had left in the stereo calming her somewhat as she came to a stop outside Pete's house.
It was shrouded in darkness, only the dimmest bit of light coming from an upstairs window. Stepping out of her car, she closed the door as quietly as she could and made her way to the path, frowning when she noticed the gate was wide open. That was one of Moira's pet hates; she had lost count of the times Moira had shouted at Pete through the window to come back and close it when they were already half way down the road.
Spotting Pete's bedroom window at the side of the house as wide open, Allie pursed her lips before darting around to the side and reaching for the trellis which she had climbed a thousand times before. Not in high heels, granted but she was flexible.
The odd slip and curse word later, she was able to push herself up using the window frame, flinging one leg into the room first and then the other. She frowned, noticing the half packed duffel bag on the bed but there was no noise.
Peering into the dimly lit hallway, she saw what looked like glass on the floor and instantly her chest seized, a chill running painfully down her spine.
"Oh shit," she whispered, her entire body going still when she heard faint footsteps in the hallway. They were light, as though whoever was out there didn't want to be heard. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,"
She spun around in a circle, trying to figure out where to hide as she knew that climbing back down at speed wouldn't be an option if she wanted the future use of her legs. With a 'what-the-fuck' shrug, she leapt forward, swinging her left leg out of the window and bracing herself, stopping only when she heard her name.
"Allie?"
Her head snapped around, peering into the almost darkness at the figure hunched by the door.
"Pete?" she whispered back. "Are you ok, what the hell is going on?"
He stayed at the distance he was, not wanting her to see his face…or what he imagined was left of it. After his father's outburst earlier, Pete had forced his mother out of the house, driving her to her sister's house across town and had snuck back just now to gather their things. It was a simple plan. He just hadn't factored in Allie bloody Harding.
"You need to get out," he hissed at her, hating himself as he saw her visibly recoil at his tone. "And I mean now,"
Her brow furrowed and he grinned inwardly, of course she wouldn't just take an order. No, that would be easy.
"Allie, please," he begged. His father had been gone by the time he had returned home but he didn't know when the old man was due back. If Steve came home first he might have a chance but given Pete had managed to sneak a few punches earlier, he knew his father was gunning for his blood.
And just like that, he heard it. His eyes slid shut for a long moment and he allowed himself to do nothing but feel the cold making its way through his body. The latch on the front door clicking open and the sound of heavy work boots hitting the floor.
"Petey," his father's voice carried gently up the stairs, the tone of it more terrifying than when he usually shouted or barked. "Not the brightest move you leaving the gate open, was it?" Pete could hear the grin in his voice and it turned his stomach. "You know your mum hates that,"
Pete snapped his eyes open, keeping his footsteps as light as he could as he made his way over to the tiny blonde and took her hand, leading her over to the closet and opening the door.
"Get in," he whispered, his voice urgent but firm. "And you don't come out until I tell you to, alright. Not him. Me. You listen to me,"
"Pete, what the fuck is this?" Allie clutched at his fingers tightly. "Do I need to call the police or…"
"No," he shook his head, grateful once again for the darkness in the room which kept her from seeing his face. "Just stay in 'ere and don't make a sound,"
He placed a brief kiss on her forehead, ignoring the way the tear in his lip stung as he did so. The scent of her hair filled his nostrils as he felt calm for a fleeting moment before closing the door after her and turning back to his bed, shovelling his clothes into it as quickly as he could. All he had to do was get his and his mother's things and leave. The hallway floorboards creaked menacingly behind him and he felt the adrenaline kick start in his veins as his father stepped into the room.
"Answer me when I talk to you." Michael ordered, his voice level.
Pete tensed, his eyes flicking over to the wardrobe as he pondered his next move. He didn't want Allie to see a repeat of what had happened here earlier so that meant playing it Daddy's way.
"I'll be out of your hair in 10 minutes," he mumbled, reaching for his wallet on his bedside table. His gaze lingered on the west ham sticker books lined up neatly and he felt tears sting his eyes as he pictured himself and his father sat on this very bed going through them, laughing and scraping with one another over who was the better player. How had that only been eleven years ago? Before something had changed in Michael Dunham and made him into the monster he was today.
"You reckon, do ya?" the older man kicked the bedroom door shut hard enough for the pictures on the wall to rattle and inside the closet, Allie tried to get her breathing under control. What the hell was happening here? "We're done when I say we're done,"
He flicked the light switch and Pete winced, dropping the bundle of clothes he was holding but not turning to face his father. He didn't want him to see the fear in his eyes and he definitely didn't want Allie to see the state of his face.
"Where's your mum?" Michael spat, his words slurring ever so slightly.
"She ain't 'ere, is she dad?" Pete snapped back. "I don't know where she is, I'm not her keeper,"
"Take that fucking tone with me and see where it gets you," he grabbed his sons shoulder and squeezed, revelling in the pained shout he gave. "Or do I need to remind you again to respect your elders?"
"Respect?" Pete laughed, shrugging him off and turning to face him. "What the fuck would you know about respect?"
Peering through the gap in the door, Allie clapped her hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet. Pete's usually handsome face was smeared with blood; his left eye was horribly bruised, a cut that ran through his eyebrow looking sore and angry as his face contorted with rage.
"You fucking lay a hand on mum again and I'll…"
"You'll what?" Michael laughed. "'ave a think about what you're saying, son. 'Ave a think about how many punches you just about managed to get in earlier and ask yourself if you really want to be making threats in this house,"
"It ain't a threat," Pete jerked his chin up defiantly. "And I ain't telling you where she is. So just get the fuck out of my way and you can go back to drinkin' yourself to death down the abbey. In fact here," Pete tossed a crumbled ten pound note at his father's feet and looked him up and down with disgust. "Next round is on me," he smirked, no longer caring about his own fate. As long as his mum was safe that was all that mattered. "Speed up that process and do us all a favour,"
Pete Dunham was a smart bloke; his own brother had said so just a few hours earlier. But now as he stood before his father, seeing his temple throbbing in anger, he knew that there as a chance he wasn't the boy genius everyone seemed to suspect he was. Michael grabbed him by the throat and threw him down onto the bed, raising his right fist and flexing his index finger. The one with the ring on, Pete realised, almost laughing. This man knew how to leave a mark.
"STOP!"
Both men froze and Pete glanced over at Allie as she burst out of the wardrobe, her tiny form trembling with what he suspected might be fear but the frosty look in her eyes told a different story.
"Get your hands off of him," she spoke through gritted teeth. "I mean it," she stuttered. "Leave him alone,"
"Well, well," Michael blinked, laughing as he stood up from the bed but kept his hand on Pete's chest to still him. "I didn't know we 'ad company,"
"Allie, get out," Pete barked, his voice strained as his father pushed down that little bit firmer on his chest.
"Let him go," the blonde spoke again, ignoring Pete entirely. "Or so help me God, I'll kill you myself,"
"Well fuck me!" Michael laughed, shaking Pete and jerking his head towards her. "Trained 'er well, aven't you, boy?" he turned his cold eyes back to Allie and grinned sickeningly. "I'd 'ave thought you were putting that mouth to better use though, Petey. You have grown up nicely, 'aven't you darlin'?"
Pete felt his heart pound painfully against his ribs and without even realising he was moving, shot upright with a roar, elbowing his father backwards and pulling himself to his feet, purposefully placing himself between the old man and Allie.
"You do what you want to me," he pointed a bloodied finger at his old man. "But look at her like that again and I'll rip you apart limb by fuckin' limb, do you understand me?"
"Another sore spot, eh boy?" Michael licked a drop of blood from his lip and stared him down hard. "I should 'ave known you were soft in the 'ead. Your brother knows when to keep his mouth shut, but you…" he took step towards him. "Always shooting your mouth or and for what," he snorted at Allie. "Some piece of pink who isn't even putting out? I raised you better than that,"
"You didn't raise me," Pete shook his head. "And there ain't a day goes by when I don't fucking thank god for it. And seriously," he laughed, his jaw setting. "Talk about her like that again and you'll be dead before you hit the floor,"
Michael's eyes widened, turning an odd shade of blue as though they were clouding over, taking his sanity with them. He started forward, his fists trembling as he raised them before stopping dead and slumping to the floor.
Pete stared at him, his breath coming out in harsh pants as he fought to understand what had just happened. It was only when he felt Steve's hand on his shoulder that he looked up and saw his brother standing there with Terry in the door way, Steve still gripping the bottle he had used to knock his father to the ground.
"Pete," he gently slapped his face. "Mate, look at me,"
Pete lifted his eyes obediently and struggled to find his voice, a lump suddenly making itself known in his throat.
"He hit mum," he whispered brokenly.
"I know he did, mate," Steve gripped the back of his neck and pulled him into a fierce hug. "I know,"
"You alright, darlin'?" Terry asked quietly, reaching his hand out to Allie and pulling her over to where they stood next to Michael's body. "I've got ya,"
"He won't be out for long," Steve looked down at his old man in disgust. "You need to get shot of 'ere before he wakes up."
"I ain't fuckin' leaving you here with that piece of shit," Pete snapped. "No way in hell,"
"I can hold my own, mate," the older Dunham man nodded, lowering his head to his brother's ear so only he could hear him. "Get her out of here, this ain't fair on her, mate. She's shaking like a leaf,"
Pete glanced over and saw Allie was staring at him, her mouth open and her eyes shimmering with tears as she glanced down at Michael and then back up. He could see the tremors running through her fingers and felt sick. No, she didn't deserve to see this.
"You can stay with me," she told him, her voice soft. "Both of you,"
Steve smiled at the girl he had come to think of as a baby sister for so long and walked over to her, cupping the side of her face and shaking his head.
"You're a diamond," he told her. "But I'll be alright. Just take care of him, will you?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice to hold out much longer. She felt as though the next time she spoke, she would burst into tears or at the very least scream bloody murder.
"Get your stuff," Steve nodded towards the bag on the bed. "I'll call you when it's safe to come back,"
Pete nodded and Allie felt her stomach clench. How the hell would it ever be safe to come back? Why would they after…
Then it hit her.
This had happened before.
The thought made her blood run cold and her teeth chatter, so she remained silent, following Pete out into the hallway and trying not to notice how he was hobbling, doing his best to keep upright. She didn't offer to hold his hand, knowing it would kill him. He was a man of pride and the fact that she had seen all this, seen what it was really like to live in this house…it had destroyed him.
Allie followed him patiently, even as he winced and grabbed the stair rail for balance, wishing more than anything that she could hold his hand to help him. But then truth be told, she didn't know who was going to sink to the floor first. Pete…or her.
Pete sat silently as Allie switched off the headlights of her car, letting her long delicate fingers slide off of the wheel to land on her lap. Neither of them had spoken since they left his house and Pete was certain he had nodded off more than once on the journey to her house. He peered out into the mist from the depths of which a steady music beat sounded and laughter intertwined with the chilly night air. Suddenly there was a bump on the front of the car and his head snapped around, squinting through the glass to where a brunette in a very short dress was perched on the hood of the car, a man stood between her legs by the looks of it trying to eat her face.
"Hey!" Allie shouted, slamming her palm against the horn on her wheel and sending the two lovers scrambling. She caught sight of the familiar face and rolled her eyes, not expecting anything less.
She heard Pete chuckle before they fell into a silence once again, steeped in tension. What the hell was she supposed to say to him?
"Why the fuck was Swill wearing a tux?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as best he could as it was caked it dried blood.
Allie shook her head, not cracking so much as a smile as she turned in her seat and stared at him.
"Its happened before, hasn't it?" she asked him softly.
"What, Swill in a tux?" he snorted. "I fucking doubt it…last time he-…"
"Pete," she bit her lip. "Don't."
That one word in that tone was all it took. There was no point in even attempting to fool her, she knew him better than anyone. She had always seen through the bravado; he loved and hated her for it. It meant he could never keep secrets from her. Even when he could fool the boys, he couldn't fool her.
"I'm sorry," he told her, staring down at his hands and swallowing hard. "For putting you in that situation, you shouldn't 'ave had to see that."
Allie gawked at him, her mouth falling open as she fought for words.
"You're apologising to me?" she whispered. "Pete, your dad just…"
"I know, alright?" he snapped, not wanting to talk about this.
"You don't owe me an apology," she told him earnestly. "Jesus, Pete what you just went through, no one and I mean no one should ever have to experience. Not from their fucking parent,"
"Yeah well," he pressed his tongue into the side of his cheek and snorted. "Everyone gets a bad hand every now and then, don't they?"
Allie wanted to fight him on this, to shake him and make him realise that this wasn't his doing, that his father was a piece of shit and there was no excuse for him, no reason for any of this to happen.
"You can't go back there," she told him, her voice firm.
"Right," he laughed. "So what do I do? Move out, live with my auntie in her one bedroom flat in Ealing? Live here? What, Allie?"
"You know you could stay here for as long as you wanted," she told him, meaning it. "For as long as you needed, forever if you needed."
"I don't belong here," Pete barked. "I'm not a fixer-upper, Harding. Alright, my life is a fucking mess and I know it but that's what it is. I ain't ever gonna come home from school to a mansion and 'ave my old man give me a hug. Not everyone lives like this,"
Allie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from shouting at him; she knew this wasn't him talking, this was the remnants of his father coming out. All that rage, all that fear. He had to direct it somewhere.
"I know I'm lucky, ok," she countered calmly. "Don't think for a second I take any of this for granted but this isn't about me, it's about you. You're worth more than that bastard is ever going to let you be. He'll bring you down, Pete. Fuck, if I hadn't been there tonight, he could have killed you."
"Yeah, well maybe that wouldn't 'ave been such a bad thing. Like I've got fuck all to live for anyway. I'm gonna end up like him no matter what I do. Some useless council estate piece of shit worth nothing to no one," he told her, meeting her eyes dead on and watching hers widen, the horror in them palpable. He felt horrendous for saying it, he knew he had everything to live for. His mum was amazing, when his brother wasn't being an utter prick, he had his good points; the boys were his family too and not to mention he'd been accepted to this first choice uni.
And then there was the girl staring at him now with such despair, as though he had pulled the stars from the sky and put them out before her.
"Look, can we just go inside?" he rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "I'll be out of your hair by the morning,"
He shoved the car door open and pulled himself to his feet, wincing as his ribs and his back protested. Fuck, he was damaged. The more time passed the worse his injuries seemed to get. Lowering his head and yanking the hood of his sweatshirt up, he stumbled across the driveway, not letting himself look back to see Allie sitting in the car desperately trying not to cry. That would be the end of him if he saw that.
He ran quickly through the fray inside, making his way down the photo lined grand hallway to Allie's room at the end. He pushed through the door and stepped inside, the same warmth he always felt in here welcoming him and calming him. It was like she was there even when she wasn't. He would never tell her but last year when she and her family had gone on holiday for two weeks, he had been so lost without her that he had snuck into her room a few times and just lay on her bed, pretending she was there with him. Photos and trinkets were scattered everywhere, along the large French dresser by the balcony windows, the warm peach tone of the walls offset by her grey silk bedsheets and the giant fish he had won her at the funfair years back still taking pride of place on her bed.
He smirked and hobbled into her en suite, turning on the shower and shedding his clothes. His arms ached and he glanced down, noting he had a near perfect footprint bruise on his rib cage. If violence was an art form then his father was truly a master.
By the time he exited the shower, he heard Allie pottering about in her room and took a deep breath. He'd been an arsehole to her in the car, he knew that and now he had to face her. He had to see the guilt and the pity in her eyes.
He was leaning against the sink when the door burst open and she stood there in her ivy green flannel shorts and her grey Spongebob t-shirt. Her eyes flashed bright as she looked at him, clearly pissed off. Fighting the urge to smirk, he felt a weight lift from his body. Pissed off Allie he could deal with.
"If you're done taking a dramatically long shower and using all my hot water," she tapped her foot impatiently. "I need the first aid kit so I can clean you up. You might be a guest but like fuck does that give you the right to bleed all over my room."
Knowing exactly what she was doing, Pete laughed softly, taking a step back from the counter so she could reach down and pull the first aid kit from the shelf.
"Yes m'am," he gave her a small salute.
"And here," she held a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a white t-shirt out to him. "They're Harry's so you can bet your arse they're not clean."
"Cheers," he told her, for some reason feeling all the fight leave his body when their fingers brushed.
"It's what I'm here for," Allie nodded, turning on her heel and leaving him to get dressed. She almost made it to the door when he grabbed her hand, pulling her to him and burying his face in her neck. Instantly Allie wrapped her arms around him, her own eyes stinging when she felt him shaking. Just about able to see over his shoulder, she spotted the marks from what looked like a wrench on his back and closed her eyes, hating herself as tears spilled down her face. Pete sobbed against her and she felt his legs give way, falling to the floor with him and holding him tighter, her hand rubbing the back of his neck as she shushed him gently, rocking him as best she could.
It didn't matter that there was a party downstairs, voices and music carrying up through the rafters; it didn't matter that he was wearing a towel, that his blood still stained the shower wall or that he was clinging to her like a desperate man.
All that mattered was that she was there, letting him.
And that was enough.