3
A year and a half on from that first meeting with Alex and Matt, I was still dating Alex, and Inga was still dating Matt. Alex had proved to be good, undemanding company, and somehow, when he’d suggested we get a place together, I’d found myself saying yes. Now we were living together in a rented flat near the train station, and Inga and Matt had a bungalow to the north of the city. We still saw each other as a foursome as much as we could—going out for drinks, cooking each other meals, walking in the woods or on the coast. And this summer we were taking our first holiday together.
North Wales was Alex’s suggestion. I didn’t find out until later that it was mainly because there was a giant zip line over a disused quarry near the cottage we were renting—a zip line Alex had always wanted to try out. He’d kept quiet about it until after we’d booked. Probably because he knew about my fear of heights.
I’m not sure whether Alex thought he’d be able to persuade me to give the zip line a go when we were actually in Wales, but if he did, he was soon disappointed. No way was I doing that. Just thinking about it made me feel nauseous.
The others were keen, though, so I went along with them anyway and bagged myself an outside table at the café with a fantastic view of the mountains.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay here on your own?” Alex asked.
“Come on, Lil. Come with us! You’ll forget all about your fear of heights when you’re whizzing over the quarry. Don’t be so boring,” Inga said.
“That’s a bit harsh, Inga,” came from Matt.
All three of them were togged up in harnesses, jumpsuits and crash helmets about to travel at a hundred miles per hour over the disused quarry. I was where any sensible person would be—seated at a reassuringly immobile table with plentiful supplies of coffee and chocolate.
“You do remember how I was when you bought us those gallery seats at the Theatre Royal, don’t you?” I asked Inga.
I certainly did. I swear my face was green. I’d probably worn holes in the arms of my seat I’d clung on so hard. I can remember absolutely nothing about the play we went to see.
“Maybe you should have stayed at the holiday cottage?” Alex said with concern, bumping me with his helmet as he tried to give me a hug.
“I’ll be fine. I’ve got coffee, chocolate, and my sketch pad. What else could I want?”
“Sounds boring as hell,” said Inga.
Matt looked at his watch. “Why don’t we leave Lily in peace?” he suggested. “It’s almost time for the briefing talk, anyway.”
Another hug and helmet bump from Alex. “See you afterwards. I’ll text you just before we go so you can spot us.”
“Okay. Have fun, all of you.”
“See you on the other side,” said Matt.
“Later, loser,” said Inga.
Finally, they were gone, and it was just me and the crazy people zooming intermittently overhead on the zip line.
I sipped my coffee, enjoying the sudden peace and quiet, opening my sketchbook but not picking up my pencil. Thinking about Inga in an effort to get my thoughts back to the present. There was something different about Inga on this holiday. She seemed ... restless. Wired. As if being in Wales was the most exciting thing ever to have happened to her.
And being in Wales was nice. The views from the cottage we were staying at were stunning, the light on the mountains constantly changing—one minute picked out in sharp detail by the sun, the next obscured by mist. There was a good supply of board games to work through, and Matt was an amazing cook, preparing restaurant-quality food for us every evening. I loved the way he put so much into his meal prep, breaking into song every now and then, laying the loaded plates down on the table with a flourish. Matt was an impulsive hugger, scooping you into his arms for a squeeze when you passed by. He did it to us all, even Alex. Especially Alex. And I know Alex liked it, even if he complained and said, “Get off, Matt, you big dolt.”
We were having fun, the four of us. I definitely laughed more since Alex and Matt had come into my life. The other week, Alex had brought me breakfast in bed wearing the rooster tea cosy Inga had bought me for Christmas on his head and nothing else.
“Breakfast is served, mademoiselle,” he said, setting the tray down on the bedside table with one hand behind his back like a high-class butler. A butt-naked butler.
Needless to say, my eggs had gone cold, abandoned as we giggled and romped about in bed.
There was no doubt that Alex was good for me, but the only thing was, with Alex in my life, I didn’t get much time to be alone. I shouldn’t mind, but somehow I did. Every time Alex had to work late, my heart leapt with excitement, making me feel like a high-class bitch. It had nothing to do with not liking Alex’s company; it was just that the lack of mental space was affecting my creativity. I wasn’t painting nearly as much as I used to. Even when I went into the box room I used as a studio, I was aware of Alex somewhere in the house, waiting for me to be finished. Which totally stifled any creative instinct.
God, maybe I was destined to be alone.
Smiling at myself for being so dramatic, I picked up my pencil. I had these couple of hours to draw at least. And Alex and I would work things out. After all, what was wrong with someone trying to make your life better? Someone asking if you were happy. Arranging little treats. Making plans. Someone who made you their priority. It was certainly a novelty for me, given my past. I needed to get used to it, that was all.
Maybe I should find a studio outside our home. The box room was tiny. And dark. Though God knew how I was going to afford to pay for a studio when I sometimes struggled to find the rent.
But I’d worry about that later. Right now, I was going to draw the mountains from the safety of the café.
But the second I picked up my pencil, at least three families joined me in the café, sitting at the other tables and instantly surrounding me with excited children’s voices.
“Where’s Daddy, Mummy? Is that Daddy?”
“I can see him!”
“No, that’s not him. He won’t be down for a while yet, I don’t think. Sit down, Milly. No, Jacob, you can’t have another ice cream. Not until this afternoon.”
Soon, the café was full, and there weren’t enough seats for everyone. When a mother with four children eyed the empty seats at my table I smiled and offered them to her. She accepted gratefully. The two children she assigned to my table were less grateful, though, sliding into the seats and looking balefully at me as if I might be an axe murderer. I considered making conversation but decided against it, turning my seat further round to face the mountains more directly, my pencil moving over the page.
Three people swooped overhead on the zip line.
“Is that Daddy?” I heard the younger girl say.
“Not yet. It’s too soon.”
A pause, then, “Does anybody die doing the zip line? Will Daddy die?”
“No, course not, silly. He promised to take us paddle boarding this afternoon, remember?”
My pencil carried on moving, but I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing any longer. The older sister’s tone had been so caring; so reassuring. She could just as easily have said much the same words in a mimicking, you’re so stupid kind of a way, but she hadn’t. She’d been loving; looking out for her baby sister. The way I’d tried to look out for Violet.
The memories had been pushing to crowd into my mind all day, stirred by us being up somewhere high, no doubt, but now there was no stopping them. All of a sudden, I was ten years old, back in my childhood home, and Mum was telling me I had to take Violet out.
Mum was wearing her new dress—the short one with the low neckline. I knew what that meant. Ronnie, her boyfriend, was coming round.
“But I’m meeting my friends!”
One day, that was all I’d wanted. One day of being like everyone else my age. Of not being different.
“You can still meet them. Vi won’t be any trouble. She’ll go to sleep in the buggy. Come on, quick, sharp.”
“It’s not fair.”
“Lily, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Take your bloody sister out. And don’t come home until five o’clock, okay?”
She turned her back on me, conversation closed. Violet was already strapped into the buggy, face bright, saying, “Park, Lil. Park.” It wasn’t her fault our mother was a selfish cow. It wasn’t my fault, either, but so what? One way or another I always got lumbered, and I loved Vi too much to just storm off and leave her and Mum to it.
I checked the contents of the bottom of the buggy and wasn’t surprised to find Mum hadn’t put all the stuff Violet might need in there—drink, snack, hat, changing bag. So, I got the things together myself and headed out just as Ronnie pulled up in his expensive car.
“Off out somewhere, girls?” he said, as if he didn’t know. As if he hadn’t spoken to Mum on the phone. Said something like, “ Get shot of those girls of yours, won’t you? Then we can have some real fun. ”
I didn’t bother to reply. I loathed Ronnie with a passion. He was even worse than Dan, his predecessor, and that was saying something. At least Dan’s gaze hadn’t roamed over my body anytime Mum was in another room.
It was a scorching-hot day. The type of day when the pavement radiates heat, and the birds are eerily absent from the skies because it’s too hot to fly. Violet was kicking her legs, happy to be outdoors. That would probably all change when she realised we weren’t going to the park, but she’d get over it when she saw where we were going.
What with getting Violet’s stuff ready, I was five minutes late arriving at the meeting place. To my relief, my friend Jasmine and her two brothers, Harvey and Leo, were still there when I puffed up to them.
“Thanks for waiting.”
“We wouldn’t have if we’d known you were bringing her,” said Harvey, stabbing his finger in Vi’s direction.
“Yeah,” agreed Leo. “She stinks.”
Violet had stunk last time I’d brought her along because her nappy had leaked, and Mum hadn’t put any clean nappies in the changing bag. There were some today, though—I’d put them there myself.
“Not sure if you’ll be able to get the buggy through the hole in the fence,” Jasmine said, sounding irritable. “Why’d you bring her?”
“Mum made me.”
“Mum made me,” mimicked Harvey unpleasantly in a baby voice.
“Come on,” said Jasmine impatiently. “Let’s go.”
Jasmine led the way, her long legs striding out. Harvey slouched along after her, hands in pockets, giving me and Vi a wide berth. Leo picked up a stick from the side of the road and bashed just about everything he passed with it as he walked along—wall, postbox, dropped tin can, which he sent clattering into the gutter. He even poked it in a pile of dog poop and gleefully threatened me with it until Jasmine told him, “Leave it out, Leo.”
Shrublands Manor, where we were bound, was a mile or so away. Turns out Mum was spot on about Vi falling asleep in the buggy—she was fast asleep when we got there. People paid a fortune to get into Shrublands to walk around the gardens, but Harvey had recently discovered a hole in the fence leading into the woodland, and this was where we were going to get in. Only, Jasmine had been right about the buggy not fitting—not upright, anyway. The hole was just about big enough to squeeze through on your belly. Watching the others emerge on the other side, I cursed Mum and Ronnie all over again.
“Maybe if you left the buggy there?” Jasmine suggested. “Nobody’ll nick it.”
But I couldn’t be sure about that, and leaving aside the grief I’d get if it disappeared, I’d never be able to get Vi home without it.
So, I lifted Vi out, waking her up and causing her to start up a whimpering protest. Then I held her, awkwardly folding up the buggy one handed so I could slide it through to Jasmine along with the changing bag. Harvey and Leo had already scarpered—we could hear them smashing a way through the undergrowth with sticks.
“Hurry up, Lily. We’ll lose them. And make her shut up, can’t you? Somebody’ll hear us.”
“Shh, Vi. It’s okay,” I said, handing my little sister to Jasmine through the gap in the fence. “It’s really exciting in here. You’ll love it, I promise you will.”
Violet was squealing inconsolably in Jasmine’s arms.
“She’s like a flipping fish,” Jasmine said, holding on to Vi’s wriggling form with difficulty as I pushed myself through the hole in the wire fence, snagging my T-shirt as I did so.
Then I was through, taking Vi from Jasmine. The buggy was folded up and hidden in some rhododendron bushes, Jasmine had the changing bag over her shoulder, and we were off, following the trail the boys had cut through the trees.
I carried Vi until we reached open parkland, and then I put her down and she toddled gamely next to me, her tears forgotten as I pointed out a herd of deer.
“Look, Vi, it’s Bambi.”
Her little face lit up. She adored Bambi. “Bambi!” she squawked. “Bambi!”
A wave of love for my little sister swept over me as she trundled along, arms outstretched in a huge Bambi embrace. She was so cute. Even Mum noticed it sometimes—when she wasn’t too wasted. I looked around for Jasmine to share the moment with her, but she was gone, racing ahead after her brothers, who were making their way towards a lookout tower.
“Come on, Vi,” I encouraged. “We’re going up the hill. We’ll be able to see all the Bambis from there. I’ll count them for you. I bet there are more than a hundred.”
Gamely, Vi tried to keep up. But soon she was saying, “Lil carry. Lil carry.”
So, I had to pick her up and struggle up the hill with her. When I arrived, panting, Vi’s changing bag was dumped by the entrance to the tower, and Jasmine, Harvey, and Leo were nowhere in sight. I guessed they’d gone up the tower, but there was no way my legs would have taken me up there, even if I’d wanted to go, which I didn’t. So, I got Vi’s drink from the changing bag and sat panting while she guzzled it, wondering whether I’d be able to steal a sip or two myself, looking back the way we’d come. No deer were in view. Not one. They were hidden by the brow of the hill.
“Bambis,” Vi said, also looking back. “Bambis gone.”
“They haven’t gone; we just can’t see them from here.”
We’d be able to see them from the top of the tower, but I hoped she wouldn’t think of that. I’d never been keen on being up anywhere high. I had to steel myself just to go up the steps to the top of the slide. Besides, Vi’s little legs would never make it up all those steps.
As I rummaged in the changing bag for a distraction snack, Jasmine, Leo, and Harvey appeared at the top of the tower, waving down at us.
“Woo-hoo!” Leo called.
Vi pointed at him. “Boy!” she said. “Boy up!”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Boy up. Wave to him.”
We waved. Only Jasmine waved back. Then, shortly afterwards, we heard the three of them shrieking as they tore back down the steps, their feet clattering as they sped as fast as they could go, finally tumbling breathless and laughing out of the door at the bottom.
“Go on, Lily,” said Jasmine. “Your turn.”
“I can’t. I have to look after Violet.”
“I’ll look after her. Go on, the view’s amazing.”
“No, it’s all right.”
“She’s chicken. Lily’s chicken,” said Leo.
“I am not.”
“Prove it, then.”
“Go on, Lil, Violet’ll be okay with me,” Jasmine said.
So, because I was suddenly sick of always being different, always being the one who said, “ No, ” or “ I can’t, ” I went, followed by my sister’s cries of distress, convincing myself she’d soon settle. That my friends would be proud of me when I got back down. That the view from the top would be worth it. That there was nothing to be afraid of. The walls weren’t closing in on me. I wasn’t going to faint. That I just had to carry on breathing. Take one step at a time.
Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine. Sixty. God, how many more were there? Was I halfway yet?
I stopped, sitting on a step, the stone cold against my bare thighs, Vi’s cries spiralling up to me. Should I continue up, or go back down? I couldn’t decide. My brain felt squashed. Like it was pressed in the vice Dan had used for his woodwork projects. The vice he’d left in the shed with his tools when he’d left Mum.
“Hurry up, Lily,” Jasmine shouted to me through the tower door. “We’re waiting for you.”
Clinging to the step in front of me, I got to my feet and clambered on, one endless step after another, uncounted now, trying not to think about how I was going to get down again. Thinking only about getting to the top. Of looking down at the others, waving triumphantly. Seeing Vi’s smile when she saw me.
Finally, finally, I emerged into the open air. Clinging to the wall, eyes tightly shut, I inched myself round to the side where the others were standing. Opened my eyes. Allowed the seasick feeling of the sky and the trees and the hill and the birds flying over to swim past me for a moment. Clenched my stomach with my arms.
I could look over the top. I could. Except that I couldn’t. Not until the sound of Violet’s distressed cries punctured my underwater world.
“Vi?” I said, inching closer to the edge, centimetre by painful centimetre. And there she was, far below me, a tiny figure in her pink playsuit. All alone. Where were the others? Where the fuck were the others?
I moved my swimming head to look and saw them running down the hill. The three of them, even Jasmine, not even looking back to check on Violet.
“Lil!” she was crying. “Lil-Lil!”
“Stay there, Vi,” I called. “I’ll be down in a minute. Don’t move.”
And it was enough, the terror of something happening to Violet—some accident, or her running off and me not being able to find her—to get me to the stone steps again. To get me bumping down on my bottom. Thud, thud, thud; Violet’s cries winding round the tower to me all the way.
“I’m nearly there, Vi. Hold on.”
When I reached the doorway, I could barely stand. My head and the whole world were spinning. I had to bend down and puke my guts up by the side of the tower. But all the time Vi was screaming, screaming, so I made myself open my eyes.
“It’s okay, Vi. I’m here,” I said groggily. Only it wasn’t okay, because a strange woman had Vi in her arms, and she and her husband were staring at me accusingly.
“Does this little girl belong to you?”
“She’s my sister.” Shakily I walked towards the woman, my arms out, ready to take Vi from her. Only she didn’t let go.
“Did you really leave her down here on her own while you went up the tower?”
“No, my friends were with her.”
“What friends? There was no one here when we got here.”
“They left.” And they weren’t friends. Not any longer.
Violet was screaming her head off by now, her arms stretched out towards me.
“Can you please let go of my sister?”
Reluctantly, the woman did so, asking. “How old are you? We ought to report this.”
I turned my back on them, carrying Violet over to collect her changing bag. Some of my vomit had splashed onto it. But I couldn’t worry about that. I just had to get Violet away from these people before something even worse than her being left alone at the bottom of the tower happened.
“Shh, Vi,” I said, hurrying away, the changing bag bumping against my side. “It’ll be all right. I’m sorry you were scared.”
“Lil gone,” Vi said, still sobbing as if her heart would never mend. She was warm against my chest. Warm and wet. “Lil gone.”
“But I’m here now, aren’t I? And I’ll never leave you alone again.”
But I did.
“The lady’s crying.”
“Shh, she’ll hear you.”
“I’m not crying,” I told the two girls at the table. “It’s just allergies.” Allergies. Yes, that was it. I was allergic to memories.
I took a tissue from my pocket and blew my nose. I wasn’t surprised when the girls left a few moments later to crowd at the table with their mother and brothers.
My fear of heights had improved slightly over the years. At one time I wouldn’t even have been able to sit in this first-floor café and look out at the mountains. In fact, I probably wouldn’t even have agreed to come to Wales with all its mountains at all.
My phone bleeped. Setting off in five minutes , Alex had typed.
Have fun , I typed back.
I saw them fly over. At least, I think it was them. It was hard to tell since everyone was kitted out the same, and they were travelling so fast. But I could say I’d seen them. They’d never know the truth.