Kitabı oku: «The Family», sayfa 2

Chapter Three

TILLY

They’d changed the classrooms around in the six weeks I’d been off. By the time I’d located my English group I was late.

‘Sorry,’ I muttered to Mr Cranford.

And rather than snapping at me like he normally would with his stale coffee breath he said, ‘That’s okay, Tilly. It’s good to see you back.’ His words were soaked with sympathy and somehow that was harder to bear than his shouting.

All the good seats were taken. Rhianon was sitting at the back with Ashleigh, Katie and Kieron. Katie and Kieron’s bodies were angled together, their heads tilted towards each other, and I knew they were no longer purely friends. The thought of his lips on hers made my heart feel like it was breaking all over again. It was only a couple of months ago that he’d told me he loved me as his fingers strayed under my blouse, into my bra.

For God’s sake, Tilly. Pull yourself together.

I dumped my rucksack next to an empty desk right at the front. The chair leg scraped loudly across the floor as I pulled it towards me. Mr Cranford waited, whiteboard marker in his hand, until I was settled before he carried on.

‘This half term we’re going to be studying Othello.’ There was a collective grumble. ‘No need for that. Plays are one of the oldest forms of entertainment.’ His pen squeaked as it wrote ‘Shakespeare’ across the board. ‘You can’t beat a good tragedy—’ He froze. Our eyes met. His were full of apology. I could feel the tears welling in mine. Quickly, he began to speak again. ‘Plays were accessible, cheap…’

I zoned out. My mind cast back to the ‘theatre’ Dad had made me and Rhianon, cutting the front out of a large cardboard box and painting it red. Mum had hung two pieces of yellowing net curtain from a wire. Our audience of Uncle Iwan, Aunt Anwyn, Mum and Dad would queue at the door until Rhianon collected their shiny fifty pence pieces. The stars of the show were the sock monkeys we’d named Dick and Dom – mine turquoise and white striped, Rhianon’s red polka dot – and we’d move them from side to side as they spouted waffle we thought was hilarious. There was never a script.

I glanced over my shoulder, certain Rhianon would be sharing the same memory, but I was confronted with the back of her head, long blonde hair hanging silkily over her shoulders. She’d twisted around and was whispering something to Katie and Kieron on the back row. My stomach churned as I assumed it was about me.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly when we’d drifted apart. She hadn’t come over recently, but even in the months before that when she’d visited she had spent more time in the kitchen talking to Mum than she did with me. If I snapped at Mum over dinner, when she questioned me endlessly about my day, Rhianon would roll her eyes. Once, she even said, ‘Don’t speak to your mum that way.’ It was rough for her at home, I knew. Her parents were arguing and it was calmer at our house. Mum listened to Rhianon. Mum always found time to listen patiently to everyone. Sometimes I thought Rhianon was jealous of the relationship I had with Mum, when her relationship with Aunty Anwyn was tense and strained, but then teenage girls aren’t always close to their own mums are they? Saying that, even I could see Aunt Anwyn had changed. She had become angry I suppose, resentful almost. I guess it must have started with the shit-storm with Dad and Uncle Iwan’s construction business. Everything circled back to that. I don’t know the ins and outs because my parents only drip-fed me what they thought I needed to know, but Ashleigh’s parents bought one of their houses on a new estate. Problem was they had built it on a former landfill site. Ashleigh got sick. Not like a cold and cough sick but proper ill. Leukaemia. That’s when it all kicked off. It was months ago, but the memory still smarted; Katie standing on her chair, raising both her voice and her thinly plucked eyebrows.

‘Listen up. Ashleigh’s in hospital because Tilly’s dad built on toxic land. It’s his fault Ashleigh is sick. She might literally die.’

The other kids had started shouting abuse. I raised my palms.

‘Honestly, it wasn’t toxic land. Basically, there are all these safety checks before a build starts, aren’t there, Rhianon?’ I turned to my cousin. Our dads were in business together after all.

‘I dunno. My dad had no idea about the history of the land. He only deals with finances.’ I think I was the only one who could detect the fear in her voice, the shakiness of her words, but that was that. I was singled out. Unfriended. Ignored, ironically, by the majority of the school except Ashleigh who, when she came back after her treatment, wasn’t exactly friendly but wasn’t unfriendly either. With her illness and the fact she and her parents had crammed into her grandparents’ house while checks were being carried out on the new build, she more than anyone had a reason to hate me, but she treated me exactly the way she had before. The occasional hello if we stood next to each other at the lockers, a passing nod if we bumped into each other in town. It was her parents that were furious and wanted someone to blame, I got that. Local papers need something to report on, I got that too. It was harder to understand the actions of the people I thought were my friends, and their parents, the community staging a sit-in at the half-finished building site, circulating petitions. In social studies once we’d examined the psychology of those who participated in protests. A lot of the time those people taking part felt deprived in some way, had felt injustice, inequality, and it didn’t even have to be related to the protest they were taking part in. Their shared emotions, sympathy and outrage provided a coming together. A feeling of being part of something that might make a change. Perhaps they were just bloody angry. Or, in the case of our school, scared of Katie. But what was impossible to get my head around was the crack it caused in our family, Aunt Anwyn and Uncle Iwan blaming Mum and Dad for deciding to buy the land, as if they hadn’t had any say.

‘I’m just the money man,’ Uncle Iwan said. ‘You source the plots and I do the costings.’

As the business suffered we all suffered. Nobody wanted to buy from or sell to Dad anymore, and his sites remained half-finished. Uncle Iwan got a job with a rival firm. The separation between us widened until it seemed like it was me and Mum and Dad against the world. My opinion of Dad was shaken but it wasn’t broken. Not then anyway.

The bell rang for lunch. I realised I hadn’t been paying attention to the lesson at all. To look busy, I zipped and unzipped my rucksack until Rhianon reached my desk.

‘Hi.’ I fell into step beside her. She’d never completely ignored me and I hoped she wouldn’t start now.

‘Tilly.’ Mr Cranford beckoned to me. ‘Let me quickly run through what you need to catch up on.’

I made my way over to his desk, hoping Rhianon might wait for me, but instead she slipped out of the door in her new group of four. Katie smirked as she linked her fingers through Kieron’s. With the other hand she mimed slicing across her throat with her finger, and I knew exactly where I stood.

Alone.

Chapter Four

LAURA

Neither Saffron nor I spoke as she drove me home. Exhaustion had carried me beyond the bounds of politeness so when she followed me inside the house and told me she’d put the kettle on, I didn’t object. It should have felt odd someone bustling around my kitchen, pulling open the cupboards, popping the lid off the coffee caddy, but in truth it was comforting to have another adult take charge. Filling my space with heady jasmine perfume and normality. I had never coped well alone. I wished I could relinquish control entirely.

The ground seemed fluid rather than firm as I made my way unsteadily into the lounge, still wearing my coat and shoes. I flopped onto the sofa, but despite on some level being aware of the soft sigh of the frame as my weight hit the doughy cushions, I still didn’t feel fully present – physically or mentally. I had forgotten how disorientating the period after a seizure is. How debilitating.

‘I wasn’t sure if you take sugar?’ Saffron carried two mugs and a packet of ginger nuts tucked between her elbow and waist. ‘And I couldn’t find any milk but I take mine black anyway. Do you want a biscuit? I don’t know if food helps? I know I’m probably thinking of diabetes but… Are you feeling any better? What happened?’

‘A seizure.’ I didn’t want to call it epilepsy. I’d been free of that label for almost seventeen years. Living without medication for the past ten. My consultant warned me there was a possibility of a relapse. One in twenty-six people will experience a seizure in their lifetime, and with over forty different types they are impossible to predict.

‘What brought it on?’ The worry on her face made her appear younger than she usually did and sparked my maternal instinct. She shouldn’t be the one looking after me.

It was likely that stress had brought it on, but I didn’t tell her that. Instead I closed my eyes and counted to ten – your turn to hide – hoping that when I opened them, I would have again found the me of a few weeks ago, who was fit and healthy.

And loved.

Instead, I was confronted with a lonely beam of sunlight pushing through the slats in the blinds, illuminating Gavan’s empty chair. The circular stain on the Moroccan orange arm, where he would always rest his after-dinner coffee, despite me sliding a coaster across the side table each evening. The things that had irritated me, I’d now have welcomed; that abandoned tube of toothpaste on the windowsill squeezed from the middle, the toilet seat left up, my razor blunted and clogged with foam and thick black hair. Had I nagged him too much? I tried to think of the last time I told him I appreciated him. Almost every day there had been a new kindness for me to unwrap; the way he’d peel a satsuma for me so the juice didn’t sting the sore skin around my fingernails, the giant bar of Galaxy he’d always arrive home with when my period was due, de-icing my windscreen while I was luxuriating under the hot pins of the shower, his patience with Tilly after teenage hormones rendered her snappy and uncommunicative.

And they were just the little things. The big thing, the truth, was that he saved me all those years ago after my parents cast me adrift. He’d be heartbroken to know that I was once again drowning, but this time it was his fault. My eyes were drawn to the letter on the sideboard. I had to save myself, save Tilly. But how? So much was broken, I didn’t know where to start.

‘Laura?’ Saffron’s voice was soft. It was a statement, a question, an inviting of confidence, all of this and more. Saffron seeing me at my most vulnerable at the shop had negated the need for social niceties, and all at once I wanted to weep into my coffee. I glanced at her, on the brink of opening up but, for a moment, afraid of what she might think of me.

‘What is it?’ Her concern gently tugged me over the edge until I plunged headfirst into the unvarnished truth.

‘I’m broke. I’m going to lose my house. My business. And I’ve a daughter to support. Tilly’s doing her A Levels and she’s already had so much disruption this year.’ I didn’t elaborate what. Momentarily, I had a fleeting hope that releasing the words from my churning stomach would calm the almost constant nausea I had felt lately. It didn’t.

‘Oh, Laura. I’m so sorry.’ There was a beat. Her eyes flicked to the huge collage in the ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ frame, hanging above the fireplace. A wall of duck-egg paint and smiling faces. Me and Gavan toasting our fifteen-year anniversary, our blonde heads touching; Tilly and Rhianon starting school, brandishing matching pink lunchboxes and toothy grins; Gavan arched over Tilly’s cot, her hair already a shock of black curls, a look of wonder on his face; my wedding dress that clung too tightly to my stomach – seventeen years later, I was still carrying my baby weight. We had wanted to get married before she was born but we couldn’t afford it. The photos show us jumbled and out of order, we hop from adults to teenagers, toddlers to babies, and back again. ‘It looks like you have a loving family? I’m sure—’

‘My husband died six weeks ago.’ Chilled, I pulled the coat I was still wearing tighter.

‘Christ, Laura, I’m so sorry. And there was me wittering on about fruit and veg boxes.’

There was a pause, her question crackled in the air before she voiced it. ‘How did it happen? If you don’t mind me asking?’

I plucked out the only answer my mind could make sense of and offered it to her.

‘It was an accident.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ The regret in her voice was genuine. I’d never seen her look so sombre before. It encouraged me to tell her more.

‘He fell from some scaffolding at work. The coroner adjourned the inquest pending enquiries, and in the meantime issued an interim death certificate that I sent to our life insurance company. But I’ve had a letter from them today saying they won’t pay out until I’ve had the death certificate proper.’

‘Why? Surely if he’s…’ her voice dropped. ‘If they’ve proof he died.’

‘Apparently they need to establish a cause of death. It’s ridiculous. He fell. It was an accident.’

It was. It had to be.

‘How long will it be before you get the actual death certificate?’

‘I don’t know. The coroner said they endeavour to hold all inquests within six months.’

Another court case, and I knew I shouldn’t feel so frightened this time – I was an adult now – but somehow I still did.

I swear by almighty God to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

But God hadn’t protected me then and he still wasn’t protecting me.

‘I need that money.’ My voice cracked. ‘I can’t pay the rent. We were in arrears anyway and my landlord is threatening eviction. I’ve reached my overdraft limit. My credit cards are all maxed out. The florist doesn’t provide an income anymore. There was an incident a few months ago…’ I choked back a sob. ‘It’s all such a mess. I’d been counting on the insurance money to sort everything out.’

‘You must have grounds to appeal? To get an interim payment to see you through at least?’

I rested my head back, staring at Gavan’s photo, willing my fight to return. When she was small, Tilly was obsessed with The Wizard of Oz. She’d clench her tiny hands into fists and jig from foot to foot like a boxer – ‘put ’em up’ – the lion found his courage in the end. Where was mine?

‘You’re right. I must. I only found out this morning. It’s so hard, being alone. Everything seems ten times more mountainous than it would otherwise.’

‘Perhaps I can help? The man I live with, he used to be a solicitor –’

‘That’s nice of you but I don’t think your boyfriend –’

‘He’s not a romantic partner. He’s…’ This time it was her who hesitated, who seemed afraid of being judged. Fiddling with the fraying hem of her jumper. Looking vulnerable away from the wall of jokes that usually shielded her. ‘We both live at Gorphwysfa. The farm on Oak Leaf Lane.’

‘Of course.’ Oak Leaf Organics grew the produce they sold on their farm outside of town. A small community lived there– bunch of bloody hippies some of the locals called them – but I didn’t know much about them.

‘Anyhoo. Alex.’ Her features softened as she talked about him. I wondered then if they were more than friends, or if she wanted them to be. ‘He might be able to help you with the insurance company. The legal jargon.’

‘I can’t afford a solicitor.’

‘He wouldn’t expect you to pay. At the farm it’s not just living together, it’s… a pulling together I suppose. We share and trade resources. There’s always someone on hand with the necessary skill. You’re never alone.’

Alone. It was just a word but those five letters triggered such an intense longing, my heart ached.

‘But I don’t live there.’

‘That doesn’t matter. You can pay it forward when you can. Help out with growing the veg.’

It was a chance. A possibility. A bright shining star in a dark sky of despair, but although I parted my lips, I couldn’t release the yes that was stuck to the roof of my mouth. Asking for favours was like stripping back the layers until I was vulnerable and exposed. Open to rejection once more.

‘The offer’s there anyway. Look. It’s almost lunchtime, I’d better go. Let you get some rest.’ Saffron stood and smoothed down her top. The words that had poured from me had left my throat and mouth dry. I was more accustomed to the silence that once more filled the room. I pictured Tilly at the cafeteria prising the lid off her Tupperware, and my chest prickled with heat. What had seemed like a good idea at 6.30 this morning, suddenly felt like a horrible mistake. I had a feeling she’d be furious with me after school. Again.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ Saffron said when, lost in thought, I hadn’t made a move to see her out.

But I didn’t have her certainty. All I had were fears and doubts that threatened to sink me entirely.

‘You can’t know that unless you can predict the future.’ But still, I pleaded with my eyes, wanting her words to be a prophesy. A promise.

Fleetingly, I saw something in her indigo gaze that I didn’t understand. I searched her face but couldn’t see anything except kindness and understanding.

‘Laura, I’ve been…’ She glanced at the floor. ‘Low. If it weren’t for Alex I honestly don’t know where I’d be.’ She slipped on her crimson coat and the colour was such a contrast to her stark white outfit it reminded me of another time. Another place. Streaks of blood on virgin white snow.

‘I’ll jot down my mobile number for you.’ She rooted around in her bag. ‘If you change your mind, just ask.’ And, momentarily, that small, square piece of paper she pushed into my hand was strong enough to keep the tide of hopelessness at bay. Enough to pull me to my feet.

In the hallway I tucked the paper into my handbag while Saffron slipped on shoes that were sturdy and dependable and I told myself I could trust her. She opened the door. A frigid wind gusted through the gap. A shiver trailed its fingers down the back of my neck. I know now it wasn’t the icy air that made my hairs stand on end. It was my intuition. That feeling in my gut warned me to stay away from Gorphwysfa.

If only I hadn’t ignored it.

Chapter Five

TILLY

Mr Cranford took forever to load me with homework. By the time I got to the canteen the queue for food was long, not that I had to join it since I had my packed lunch. Mum said we couldn’t afford to buy lunch out anymore, like £2.50 would really break the bank.

The spicy pepperoni and melted cheese made my stomach rumble. I was always a fan of pizza day. I slid onto an empty bench, dumping my rucksack at my feet. I scanned the room. Rhianon was at the till paying for her food. Our eyes met. Invisible strands of years of friendship hung between us, frayed and worn. We were so much more than cousins.

I raised my hand. Mouthed, ‘Hi’.

Her hand twitched by her side and I willed her to wave at me. Instead, after glancing to see where Katie was, she offered me a weak smile and a barely discernible nod. I’d only spoken to her once since Dad died. After Mum said the post mortem had been carried out and we were free to bury him.

‘I can’t bear to think of him all cut up,’ I had sobbed down the phone. Rhianon had cried too and, for a moment, we were close again.

Now, I patted the seat next to me in a sit-here gesture. She chewed her lip in that way of hers when she couldn’t decide what to do.

Katie strode in front of her and then they were all walking in my direction. My stomach tightened and, to make myself look busy, I opened my Tupperware and pulled out a sandwich. Too late I realised my mistake.

‘Oh. My. God.’ Katie stopped in her tracks. ‘Tilly!’ She paused for effect, to make sure everyone was looking. ‘Has Mummy cut your sandwiches into hearts? How sweet!’

My body burned with embarrassment. What had Mum been thinking?

‘It’s like you’re seven, not seventeen. No wonder Kieron dumped you.’

Kieron studied his shoes. He used to tell me my eyes were beautiful, but now he couldn’t meet them.

Katie began to sing that old song, ‘Don’t go breaking my heart…’ but trailed off when she realised no one was joining in. Rhianon was staring at the floor, an odd expression on her face, and I wondered if she was remembering the same memory as me. The way her mum and mine used to belt out that song whenever they made dinner together, when everyone got along.

‘Go and take a running jump, Katie,’ I said.

‘Like your dad did?’

All the breath left my body in one sharp release. I tried to not picture Dad broken and bleeding on the floor, but the image had snuck into my mind and was scorched there for evermore.

‘Katie, don’t,’ Rhianon said quietly.

‘You’re sticking up for her?’ Katie raised her perfectly drawn eyebrows.

‘He was my uncle.’

I screwed the sandwich up so tightly in my fist that tuna mayo splattered all over the sleeve of my black top.

‘Aww, never mind.’ Katie said. ‘I’m sure Mummy will wash it for you.’ She sashayed away while I rubbed at the stain with my fingers, but that only made it worse. I watched as Rhianon and Kieron trailed after her, cramming themselves onto an almost-full table on the other side of the hall.

We had learned about a leper colony in Greece in history once, and as I sat alone, surrounded by empty seats, I realised that I wasn’t just a social leper, I was that entire island.

Angrily, I flicked a piece of sweetcorn onto the floor and then felt guilty. Mum tried so hard. I’d been such a bitch to her lately. I wished I could tell her everything. How lonely I was. How afraid. Sometimes I heard her crying in the night. I’d bury my head underneath my pillow. Each day I tried to avoid her. I was frightened that as soon as I started talking to her the truth would just come out. I didn’t want to do or say anything that might ruin Mum’s memory of Dad; she had enough to deal with. I didn’t want her to think badly of me, but I wondered if she did know, would she hate him and miss him less? It was impossible to know what the right thing to do was.

As I thought of the way I’d ignored her goodbye and slammed the car door that morning, I began to panic. She was literally all I had left and I wasn’t sure what I’d do if she turned her back on me too. I balled my hands as I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself crying. I was shrinking the way Alice did when she drank the potion in Wonderland. The rain hammered down on the corrugated roof and the noise of that, and of the chatter and laughter and the clattering of trays, was unbearable.

‘We’re off to see the wizard.’ I filled my head with Mum’s soft voice singing one of our favourite songs.

The pressure released from my lungs, leaving a desire to make up with Mum. I pulled my mobile out of my bag. Straight away it beeped with a message notification from Rhianon.

Take it from the cute sandwiches you STILL haven’t told your mum the truth about your dad?

Dread filled my empty stomach. How much longer would it remain a secret?

Dad’s hands cupping my face.

Promise you won’t tell, Tilly.