by Wendy Clarke
Going over to the book corner, I tell Sophie it’s time to go. She puts down her book, then stands and takes my hand.
As we walk home, I listen to Isabella’s chatter about a girl called Adele who can’t button up her own coat and a rhyme that Mrs Allen has taught them about numbers. But even as I’m replying to her, I can’t shake the horrible feeling inside me. I can’t lie – I’m unnerved. With all the unsettling things that have been happening recently, I don’t like the thought that somewhere out there, there might be someone watching our children.
31
Kelly Before
The next day, when Kelly arrives at the athletics club, she tells herself that it doesn’t matter to her if Ethan is going to be there or not. The hall is already full of young people dressed in tracksuit bottoms or running shorts. They’re standing in groups, chatting about their day at school, but she doesn’t join them – just takes herself off to the other end of the hall as always to do some stretches. As she presses her hands against the wall and reaches her left leg out behind her, feeling the muscles tighten, she tries to ignore the door that keeps opening as new people arrive.
Peter Alcock, their coach, is gathering everyone together, looking at his clipboard and ticking off names. It won’t be a long run today, as the evenings are drawing in, and instead of the path that leads to the top of the downs, they’ll be taking the lower route through the woods.
Ethan still hasn’t arrived, and Kelly tries to ignore the ache of disappointment in her chest, reminding herself that she’s not bothered if he comes or not. It’s only as they’re leaving the hall that she sees him getting out of his dad’s car. Her stomach does a turn. He’s already in his running gear and jogs over to the coach who nods and writes something on his board.
Trying not to think about him, Kelly joins the others and starts to run, taking it slow and steady as she’s been taught. Across the cricket ground, along the road for a bit and then up through the trees by the waymark. At first, they are bunched together, but as they start to climb, the gap between each runner widens. Kelly’s run this route many times and, as she begins the ascent through the trees, she leans into the slope, rising on her toes and letting her arms swing naturally. As she concentrates on the rhythm of her steps, Kelly waits for her mind to empty as it always does. It’s the part of running she likes the most. The only time in the week when she can forget her mother and father.
It’s not happening today, though. As Kelly’s feet pound the chalky path, and the trees pass by in a blur of white trunks and green leaves, she can’t get Freya out of her head. It’s as if she’s never been away, but whenever they are together, there is still the elephant in the room. The thing she told her when she was eight and Freya ten, as they’d played in the woods beneath the Gemini tree – for that is how she thinks of it now. In all the time that’s passed, she hasn’t been back to the clearing. Not once. Except, in her nightmares.
‘Hey, slow down.’ Ethan has caught up with her. His running shirt is sticking to his chest and his cheeks are red, but the nearness of him, as he runs alongside her, causes butterflies to dance in her stomach.
It’s hard to talk when they’re running, so they don’t try, but it’s good to have someone next to her. Someone to keep stride with. The fronts of her thighs have turned pink and she know her hair looks awful pulled back from her face in a band. She’s sweaty too, but for some strange reason, it doesn’t bother her. Everyone’s the same. Out here, away from school, no one cares what they look like. What matters is the feel of the wind on their skin. The blood pumping through their veins.
They run companionably for another thirty minutes and then they are back at the cricket field where Peter is waiting with his stopwatch. As each runner passes him, he logs their time on his board.
‘Good run today, Kelly,’ he calls after her. ‘Five minutes off your previous time.’
Kelly slows. ‘Really?’
‘So the stopwatch says. How do you feel?’
‘Good,’ she says and it’s true. There are no muscle cramps and she feels relaxed.
‘And you?’ He’s looking at Ethan who is bent at the waist, his hands on his knees, getting his breathing back to normal. ‘Think you’ll come again? The next session’s Thursday.’
Ethan looks up, his face red and his hair stuck to his forehead. ‘You bet. It was fun.’
Kelly hugs his words to her. Since Freya came back, she hasn’t been going to the running club as much, but now she wouldn’t miss Thursday for anything.
* * *
All the way home, Kelly is buzzing. Trying to remember how it felt to have Ethan running next to her – the powerful motion of his tanned arms, the stride that had kept in time with her own, the rhythm of his breathing. He didn’t have to run with her, but he’d chosen to. At school, when she next sees him, she will view him differently. He will no longer be just the boy all the girls fancy. And he will see she is different too. He’ll look beyond her shyness and her odd family and see only what they have in common. A shared love of running that will make her stand out from the other girls.
She’s nearly home now and the light is going, becoming darker as she reaches the lane that leads to their house. The street lights become fewer as the lane narrows, each pool of light picking out the potholed path and the leaves of the hedgerow that darken again once she’s run past.
The lane bends to the left and there it is, the long, thatched roof of the house, its windows hidden behind drawn curtains. She’s sweaty and hungry and can’t wait to grab something to eat and run herself a bath. When she reaches the front door, she realises she’s forgotten her key. Not wanting to make her mum cross, she goes round to the back of the house. She opens the shed door and reaches up on tiptoe, feeling along the top of the door frame until her fingers meet the spare key. As she opens the back door and lets herself in, she sees her mum at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, her fingers laced through her hair.
‘Are you all right, Mum?’
Wondering where Freya is, Kelly pulls up a chair and sits down, noticing as she does, the two empty plates on the side.
‘What time do you call this?’ Her mum looks up, her face white and pinched. ‘Your supper’s ruined.’
There’s an edge to her voice that Kelly recognises. One that tells all her senses to be on red alert.
‘It’s Tuesday, Mum. Athletics club. Did you forget?’
The slap comes before she can stop it. A hot sting on her cheek. ‘Don’t be cheeky.’
Raising her hand to her face, Kelly tries to think of something to say to make it better. ‘I’m sorry. I should have reminded you.’
‘You think sorry is a magic word? That it will make everything all right?’ When Kelly says nothing, she grabs her arm, her fingers pressing into the flesh. ‘Well, do you?’
‘No… I don’t know.’ She’s near to tears. ‘Mum, you’re hurting me.’
‘You’re no better than your father,’ she says, dropping her hand and turning away from her. ‘No better.’
Kelly wants to ask why her dad isn’t home, but when her mum’s in one of these moods, it’s better not to ask. Instead, she asks where Freya is.
‘She’s upstairs waiting for you. I don’t know how you can live with yourself and your selfishness.’
Her selfishness? She searches her memory for a clue. Something that she might have forgotten. Had she told Freya that she would spend the evening with her? She doesn’t think she had.
‘I’ll go up and see her.’
‘You do that.’ Her mum sucks in her cheeks. ‘You see if you can repair the damage you’ve done because I’m telling you, young lady, if you ruin this for me, I will never forgive you.’
She turns away, her knuckles to her lips and Kelly stares at her, wondering what it is she’s meant to have done. Not just this day but every day since she can remember.
When her mum says nothing more, she climbs the stairs, her cheeks burning, not just from the slap but from the in
justice. Why does everything have to be her fault? She always goes to the athletics club on a Tuesday and she’s done her best to be nice to Freya since she’s been back. She can’t help it if her dad prefers his office to this miserable house. She’d leave it too if she had anywhere to go.
Freya’s door is closed and Kelly knocks and waits. She’s dying to tell her about Ethan. Tell her how her heart had squeezed when he smiled at her. Tell her that she thinks he might actually like her.
When there’s no answer, she turns the handle and opens the door a crack. The room is in darkness.
‘Freya?’
‘Go away.’
The curtains are drawn, but there’s no light on. Freya is under the rose-patterned duvet, her pale hair just visible in the dim light.
‘What’s the matter? Are you ill?’ Darts of anxiety shoot through her. What if the same thing’s happening again? What if she’s unwell? What if she leaves?
Freya’s face is turned away from her. Walking over to the bed, Kelly switches on the bedside light and is shocked to see her face is wet with tears. For a moment, she looks just like the frail girl from six years ago.
Reaching out a hand, she touches her shoulder through the duvet. ‘What is it?’
‘You left me.’ Her voice is small like a child’s and Kelly doesn’t know what to say or do. She’s not sure what she means. When did she leave her?
‘I was at the athletics club.’ She’s sick of saying it – as though she’s done something wrong. ‘It’s on every Tuesday and I haven’t been for ages.’
Freya turns towards her. ‘I thought sisters were supposed to be there for each other.’
The air in Freya’s room is hot and stuffy, the radiator on even though it’s only September. She wants to throw open a window – let some fresh air in – but Freya has her arms wrapped around her as though she’s cold. There must be something she can do to make amends.
‘Ethan came running today.’
Freya raises an eyebrow. ‘Ethan Jackson?’
‘I think he likes me.’ It’s not something she knows for certain, but she’s sure it’s something that will impress Freya.
Freya pats the bed next to her and grins. ‘I think you should tell me everything about it.’
Kelly looks at the bed, then at Freya. Her change of mood is disconcerting. A minute ago, she’d been feeling sorry for the girl – guilt running through her for having gone out and left her – and now this. She doesn’t know how to be with her. If she can be trusted.
Freya holds out her hand to her. ‘I’ve always wanted someone to share things with. Haven’t you?’
A wave of self-pity washes over her. Of course she has. Needing no more persuading, Kelly climbs onto the bed next to Freya and leans her back against the headboard.
As she starts to tell her about Ethan – about the way his hair falls across his face, the sound of his laugh and the way he makes her stomach do somersaults – she feels Freya’s body press against hers. The encouraging squeeze of her fingers. Ethan’s the first boy she’s had a crush on and the words come tumbling out in her excitement. When she was younger, she’d tried to confide in her mum about things, but her mum had cut her off, calling her needy. It didn’t take long to realise it was better to keep her thoughts to herself. Or tell them to Ben. Sharing her innermost feelings with Freya makes her feel like she belongs to someone at last and the relief is indescribable.
When her mum knocks on the door to ask them what they’re doing, it’s Freya who calls out.
‘We’re fine, Karen. I’m just helping Kelly with her homework.’
‘Good girl,’ her mother says. ‘You’re such a good girl.’
They hear her footsteps going back along the landing and collapse into giggles, tears rolling down their faces.
Freya stares at the door, her face a picture of distaste. ‘I know she’s your mum, but she’s such a fucking loser.’
‘Freya!’ There’s something deliciously disloyal in what Freya’s just said. ‘You can’t say that.’
‘I just did, didn’t I? That woman is suffocating me. At my last place, they weren’t that bothered about me, but at least I had space to breathe.’
Kelly leans up on her elbow. ‘What do you mean?’
‘She can’t do enough for me… you’d think I was about five not sixteen. It’s always How was school? What would you like for your dinner? Would you like me to serve you grapes on a silver platter?’
Despite herself, Kelly can’t help laughing. ‘I don’t think she’s even got a silver platter.’
‘Maybe not, but you don’t know the half of it. I’ve caught her at night watching me from the doorway when she thinks I’m asleep. Is that creepy or what?’
‘It is a bit.’
She can’t tell Freya that there’s nothing she’d like better than a mother who looked in on her when she was sleeping. A guardian angel watching over her in the night. Kelly tries to imagine what it must be like but can’t. Her mum likes her to keep her bedroom door firmly closed after she’s gone to bed and if she gets up at night, she has to make sure she steps over the creaky floorboard on the landing so as not to wake her. The person Freya’s describing is like someone she’s never met.
‘And as for your dad,’ Freya continues. ‘Can’t she even see what’s going on under her own nose? I thought lipstick on a collar was just something you read about in trashy novels but looks like I was wrong. Still, he’s not too bad when you get to know him and at least he’s good for maths revision.’
Kelly’s feeling ill at ease now. She doesn’t like the way the conversation has turned. She knows what she thinks of her father, how his absence adds to her loneliness, but it’s different when someone else is saying it.
‘I heard Karen give him a piece of her mind the last time he helped me. She thought I’d gone upstairs, but I was listening at the door. What’s her problem?’
Freya turns off the bedside lamp and bends her arms behind her head. In the darkness, her face is a pale globe. ‘Anyway, who needs the crazy woman when we’ve got each other.’
The uncomfortable feeling melts away and Kelly’s body is filled with a new warmth. It’s the first time she’s had someone to laugh about her mother with. To tell secrets to.
Someone to be normal with.
‘I know,’ Freya says. ‘Let’s see what your horoscope says. Maybe it will tell you that you’ll meet a fit runner called Ethan.’
Reaching under her pillow, Freya pulls out a Cosmopolitan, then switches on the bedside light again. Finding the page with the horoscopes, she runs her finger down it until she comes to Leo.
‘This is not the time to sit back and let the grass grow,’ Freya reads in a grave voice. ‘Grab the bull by the horns and take matters into your own hands.’
They collapse onto the pillow in a fit of giggles and Kelly can’t help wishing time would stand still.
Yes, Freya is the best friend she’s ever had.
A true sister.
32
Kelly Now
There are eight of us seated around the large table in Maddie’s kitchen, the detritus of the meal we’ve just eaten littering the waxed cloth with its print of bright red strawberries. A box of After Eights is being passed around the table, but I don’t take one – it’s a reminder of the truffles we should have brought. The ones Charlie ate.
My own dessert lies barely touched in the bowl in front of me, the meringue and lemon curd congealing, the pastry turning soft. I stare at it, wondering how long it will be before we can collect Noah, who’s asleep in his pram in the living room, and go home. For the first time since I’ve had him, he’s slept longer than three hours and it’s also the first time that I wish he hadn’t. Leaning back in my chair, I strain to hear the slightest sound from him, but there’s nothing. Maybe I can use our neighbour, Stephanie, as an excuse to leave – she kindly offered to babysit which meant we didn’t have to bring the girls. Sneaking a quick look at my watch, I see it’s not yet eleven and
the dinner party shows no signs of winding down. I expect the night is still young for the others seated around the table, but on a Saturday, I’m usually in bed by ten. Exhausted from a day of keeping the twins entertained, trying to settle Noah and keeping on top of the housework while Mitch is at the site.
The kitchen is warm, hot even – the shiny blue Aga, where Maddie cooked our vegetable lasagne, still pumping out its heat. It’s noisy too. Voices talking over each other in a bid to be heard. The other guests are all people Mitch knew from his life before he met me. Part of his old gang who he hasn’t seen in a while. There’s also a thin young man, with a goatee beard, who I gather is Maddie’s latest interest. I’ve forgotten his name already, but I remember she said he was a musician. During the meal he’s said almost as little as me, preferring to look at his phone.
Maddie sits at the head of the table, looking beautiful in a vintage velvet dress, its emerald colour setting off her blonde hair perfectly. Self-consciously, I raise my hand to my own lank hair. I was going to wash it before we came out, but just as I’d turned on the shower, Noah had decided it was time for another feed. There’s a stain of baby milk on my shoulder that I hadn’t noticed before we came out. I bristle. Why hadn’t Mitch told me?
I hear his laughter from the other end of the table. He’s seated on Maddie’s left-hand side and has clearly found something she’s said hilarious. I can’t take my eyes off them, and as she bends her head to him and whispers something, eliciting another bark of laughter, my insides twist. They look so comfortable together.
My eyelids are heavy, tiredness threatening to pull them closed. I long to be in bed, to fall into the oblivion of sleep, not be here amongst these people I barely know.
Around me, the conversation ebbs and flows, but I can’t bring myself to participate in it. I know how I must look: bored and dull. A mother of young children with nothing of interest to say. How surprised they’d be if they knew what really sets us apart. The loss I’ve felt. The feelings that have been coming back – the ones that overwhelm me every time I think about the locket in the jewellery box on my bedside table and how it’s found its way back to me. Most of all, though, I’d like to see the look on their faces if they knew the hideous thing I saw in the woods when I was fourteen and the guilt that’s been with me all these years.
