House of Secrets. Ned Vizzini
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“I have to agree,” Cordelia said. “And you know how much it hurts me to agree with Bren.”
“You love agreeing with me,” Brendan mumbled, “because that’s when you know you’re right.”
Cordelia laughed, which made Brendan smile despite himself. “Good one, Bren,” said Eleanor, giving her brother’s uncombed hair a quick rub.
“Kids, let’s try to be positive about the house,” said Dr Walker. “Sea Cliff is Sea Cliff. We’re talking unobstructed views of the Golden Gate. I want to see it, and I want to know about that ‘reduced’ price. What was the address?”
“One twenty-eight,” Brendan said without looking up. He had an eerie ability to remember things; it came from memorising sports plays and game cheats. His parents joked that he would end up a lawyer because of it (and because he was so good at arguing), but Brendan didn’t want to end up a lawyer. He wanted to end up a Forty-niner or a Giant.
“Plug it into my phone, will you?” Dr Walker waved the phone in front of Brendan while he drove.
“I’m in the middle of a game, Dad.”
“So?”
“So I can’t just pause.”
“Isn’t there a pause button?” Cordelia asked.
“Nobody’s talking to you, Deal,” said Brendan. “Could you guys just leave me alone, please?”
“You’re already practically alone,” said Cordelia. “You always have your head buried in your stupid games, and then you get out of going to dinner with us because of lacrosse practice, and you refuse to go on trips… it’s like you don’t even want to be part of this family.”
“You are a genius,” said Brendan. “You guessed my secret.”
Eleanor swooped in, grabbed the phone and plugged in the address – but she did it backwards, putting the street in first and then the number. Cordelia started to give Brendan a nasty retort but reminded herself he was at that “awkward” stage for boys, the stage where you were supposed to say horribly sarcastic things because you looked so gawky.
It was the house that was the real problem. Even Eleanor was suspicious of it now. It was going to be old enough for people to have died in. It was going to be falling apart and have crooked shutters and a layer of dirt an inch thick and an overgrown tree out the front and a bunch of snoopy neighbours who were going to look at the Walkers and whisper, “Here are the suckers who are finally gonna buy this thing.”
But what could they do? At eight, twelve and fifteen, Eleanor, Brendan and Cordelia were each absolutely sure that they were at the worst possible age, the most powerless and unfair.
So Brendan gamed and Cordelia read and Eleanor fiddled with the GPS until they pulled up to 128 Sea Cliff Avenue. Then they looked out of the window and their jaws dropped. They had never seen anything like it.
Sea Cliff was a neighbourhood of mansions on hills, most built right up against the sunny street with its row of young trees trimmed into perfect leafy spheres. But the house the Walkers were looking at was set back, perched at the edge of the cliff from which the neighbourhood took its name, so far back that Brendan wondered if it was half supported by stilts. An expanse of emerald lawn buffered it from the street, with three wide pine trees that kept the grass in shadow. The house itself had gold and tan trim accenting the royal blue that wrapped around its slatted sides. An impeccably groomed pebbled path slalomed through the trees to the front door.
“I’ve biked by here tons of times, but I’ve never seen this place,” said Cordelia.
“That’s because you never look up from your stupid books,” said Brendan.
“And how do you figure I’m reading when I’m on a bike, genius?”
“Audiobooks?”
“Guys, no fighting in front of the estate agent,” Mrs Walker said under her breath. She had already called Diane Dobson back to apologise for how Brendan had hung up on her, and now they saw a woman who looked like Hillary Clinton standing at the front of the path. “That must be her. Let’s go.”
The Walker family stepped out of their Toyota, bumping into one another. Diane greeted them, wearing a finely tailored, coral-coloured suit, her hair lacquered into a blonde helmet. She made the house look even more impressive.
“Dr Jake Walker,” Dr Walker said, reaching out to shake hands. “And this is my wife, Bellamy.” Mrs Walker nodded demurely. Dr Walker didn’t bother to introduce his offspring. He hadn’t shaved that morning, even though he used to make a point of telling his children how men who didn’t shave every day lacked discipline. But he wasn’t the man he had been back then. Diane eyed the family’s second-hand car.
“Can we keep our horse here?” Eleanor asked, tugging Dr Walker’s leg.
“We don’t have a horse, Nell,” he laughed. “She’s going through a horse phase,” he explained to Diane.
“But it’s perfect, Daddy! You said I could get a horse on my next birthday—”
“That was if we got a country house, which we’re not getting, and you can’t keep horses in the city.”
“Why not? There’s lots of places to ride them! Golden Gate Park, Crissy Field… You think I don’t remember things you promise—”
Mrs Walker knelt and took Eleanor’s shoulders in her hands. “Honey, we’ll talk about this later.”
“But Daddy always—”
“Calm down. It’s not Daddy’s fault. Things have changed. Why don’t we play a game? Here, close your eyes and tell me what kind of horse you want in your wildest dreams. Come on, I’ll do it with you.”
Mrs Walker shut her eyes. Eleanor followed. Brendan rolled his eyes instead of shutting them, but he was tempted, deep down, to join in. Cordelia shut hers – in solidarity with her sister and to annoy Brendan.
“And… open!” Mrs Walker said. “What kind of horse is he?”
“She. Calico. Light brown with white spots. Her name’s Misty.”
“Perfect.” Mrs Walker hugged her daughter tight, stood up and went back to looking at the house with Diane Dobson, who had waited patiently for the family to work out their very obvious issues.
“Delightful, isn’t it?” the estate agent said. “A completely unique construction.”
“There are some things about it that concern me,” Mrs Walker said. Brendan saw that she was entering negotiation mode, where she used her charm and poise to make people do things. Standing in front of the home, she looked strong and beautiful, more confident than she had been in months. Brendan wondered if it might be fate that had brought them to