‘I d-don’t want to – I don’t want to go! I don’t! I don’t want to go say goodbye to Lochie!’
I pull her close, her small body sobbing softly against mine, and kiss her wet cheek, stroke her hair, rock her back and forth against me.
‘I know you don’t, Willa. I don’t want to either. None of us do. But we need to, we need to say goodbye. It doesn’t mean we can’t visit his grave in the churchyard, it doesn’t mean we can’t still think about him and talk about him whenever we want.’
‘But I don’t want to go, Maya!’ she cries, her sobbing voice almost pleading. ‘I’m not going to say goodbye, I don’t want him to go! I don’t, I don’t, I don’t!’ She starts to struggle against me, trying to pull away, desperate to escape the ordeal, the finality of it all.
I wrap my arms tightly around her and attempt to hold her still. ‘Willa, listen to me, listen to me. Lochie wants you to come and say goodbye to him. He really wants that a lot. He loves you so much – you know that. You’re his favourite little girl in the whole world. He knows you’re very sad and very angry right now, but he really hopes one day you won’t feel so bad any more.’
Her struggles become more half-hearted, her body weakening as her tears increase.
‘W-what else does he want?’
Frantically I try to come up with something. For you to someday find a way to forgive him. For you to forget the pain he caused you even if it means you have to forget him. For you to go on to live a life of unimaginable joy . . .
‘Well – he always loved your drawings, remember? I’m sure he’d really like it if you made him something. Maybe a card with a special picture. You could write a message inside if you want to – or otherwise just your name. We’ll cover it in special transparent plastic, so that even if it rains, it won’t get wet. And then you could take it to him when you go and visit his grave.’
‘But if he’s asleep for ever and ever, how will he even know it’s there? How will he even see it?’
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes. ‘I don’t know, Willa. I honestly don’t know. But he might – he might see it, he might know. So, just in case he does—’
‘O-OK.’ She draws back slightly, her face still pink and tear-stained, but with a tiny glimmer of hope in her eyes. ‘I think he will see it, Maya,’ she tells me, as if begging me to agree. ‘I think he will. Don’t you?’
I nod slowly, biting down hard. ‘I think he will too.’
Willa gives a small gulp and a sniff, but I can tell her mind is already on the work of art she is going to create. She leaves my arms and moves off towards the door but then, as if suddenly remembering something, turns back.
‘So what about you then?’
I feel myself tense. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘What about you?’ she repeats. ‘What are you going to give him?’
‘Oh – maybe some flowers or something. I’m not artistic like you. I don’t think he’d want one of my drawings.’
Willa gives me a long look. ‘I don’t think Lochie would want you to give him flowers. I think he’d want you to do something special-er.’
Turning away from her abruptly, I walk over to the window and peer up at the cloudless sky, pretending to check for rain. ‘Tell you what – why don’t you go and start making the card? I’ll be down in a minute and then we can all set off together. And remember, on the way home we’re going to have cakes at—’
‘That’s not fair!’ Willa shouts suddenly. ‘Lochie loves you! He wants you to do something for him too!’
She runs out of the room and I hear the familiar sound of her feet thudding down the stairs. Anxiously I follow her to the end of the corridor, but when I hear her ask Kit to help her find the felt-tips, I relax.
I return to my room. Back to the mirror I can’t seem to leave. If I keep looking at myself, I can persuade myself I’m still here, at least for today. I have to be here today, for the children, for Lochie. I have to turn off the mechanical switch just for these next few hours. I have to let myself feel, just for now, just for the funeral. But now that my mind is thawing, coming back to life, the pain begins to rise again, and Willa’s words won’t leave me alone. Why did she get so angry? Does she somehow sense that I’ve given up? Does she think that because Lochie’s gone, I no longer care what he might have wanted from us, for us?
I suddenly grip the sides of the mirror for support. I am on dangerous ground – this is a train of thought I cannot afford to follow. Willa loved Lochan as much as I did, yet she is not hiding behind an anaesthetic; she is hurting as much as I am, yet she is finding ways to cope, even though she’s only five. Right now she isn’t thinking about herself and her own grief, but about Lochie, about what she can do for him. The least I can do is ask myself the same question: if Lochie could see me now, what would he be asking for?
But of course I know the answer already. I’ve known the answer all along. Which is why I’ve carefully avoided thinking about it until now . . . I watch the eyes of the girl in the mirror fill with tears. No, Lochie, I tell him desperately. No! Please, please. You can’t ask me for that, you can’t. I can’t do it, not without you. It’s too hard. It’s too hard. It’s too painful! I loved you too much!
Can a person as kind as Lochie ever be loved too much? Was our love really destined to cause so much unhappiness, so much destruction and despair? In the end, was it wrong after all? If I am still here, doesn’t that mean I have the chance to keep our love alive? Doesn’t that mean I still have the opportunity to make something good come out of all this rather than unending tragedy?
He gave up his life to rescue mine, to rescue the children. That was what he wanted, that was his choice, that was the price he was willing to pay for me to continue living, for me to have a life worth living. If I die too, his ultimate sacrifice will have been in vain.
I sway forward so that my forehead presses against the cold glass. I close my eyes and start to cry, silent tears tracking down my cheeks. Lochie, I can go to prison for you, I can die for you. But the one thing I know you want, I can’t do. I can’t go on living for you.
‘Maya, we need to leave. We’re going to be late!’ Kit’s voice calls up from the hall. They’re all waiting, waiting to say goodbye, to take the first step towards letting go. If I am to live, I will have to start letting go too. Let go of Lochie. How can I possibly ever do that?
I look at my face one more time. I look into the eyes Lochie used to call as blue as the ocean. Just a few moments ago I told myself that he never really knew me if he thought, even for a second, that I could survive without him. But what if I’m the one who is wrong? Lochie died to save us, to save the family, to save me. He wouldn’t have done that if he’d thought, even for a moment, that I wasn’t strong enough to go on without him. Perhaps, just perhaps, at the end of the day, he is right and I am wrong. Perhaps I never knew myself as well as he knew me.
I walk slowly towards my desk and pull open the drawer. I slide my hand under the piles of paper and close my fingers around the knife’s handle. I pick it up, its sharp edge glinting in the sun. I hold it under my jacket and go downstairs. In the kitchen, I open the cutlery drawer and place it right at the very back, out of sight. Then I push the drawer firmly closed.
A violent sob escapes me. As I press the back of my wrist against my mouth, my lips meet the cool silver. Lochan’s present to me. Now it’s my turn. Closing my eyes against the tears, I take a long, deep breath and whisper, ‘OK, I’ll try. That’s all I can promise you right now, Lochie, but I’ll try.’
As we leave the house, everyone is fussing and squabbling. Willa has lost her butterfly clip, Tiffin claims his tie is choking him, Kit complains that Willa’s moaning will make us all late . . . We file out through the broken gate and onto the street, all dressed up in the smartest clothes we have ever owned. Willa and Tiffin both want to hold my hand. Kit hangs back. I suggest he takes Willa’s so that we can swing her between us. He obliges, and as we launch her high into the air,
the wind whips back her long dress, revealing a pair of bright pink knickers. As she clamours for us to do it again, Kit’s eyes meet mine with an amused smile.
We walk down the middle of the road holding hands, the pavement far too narrow for all four of us together. A warm breeze brushes across our faces, carrying the smell of honeysuckle from a front garden. The midday sun beams down from a bright blue sky, the light shimmering between the leaves, scattering us with golden confetti.
‘Hey!’ Tiffin exclaims, his voice ringing with surprise. ‘It’s nearly summer!’
Also by Tabitha Suzuma for older readers
A Note of Madness
by Tabitha Suzuma
Why is this happening to me? he asked himself desperately. What is wrong with me?
Life as a student should be good for Flynn. He’s one of the top pianists at the Royal College of Music, he’s been put forward for an opportunity-of-a-lifetime concert, and he’s got great friends. But beneath the surface, he’s falling apart.
On a good day he feels full of energy and life, but on a bad day being alive is worse than being dead. Sometimes he wants to compose and practise all night, at other times he can’t get out of bed. With the pressure of the forthcoming concert and the growing concern of his family and friends, emotions come to a head. Sometimes things can only get worse before they get better.
978 0 099 48753 1
Also by Tabitha Suzuma for older readers
A Voice in the Distance
by Tabitha Suzuma
Every thought hurts like hell. Everything you see is awful, twisted, pointless. And the worst – the worst of it is yourself.
Star pianist Flynn Laukonen has the world at his feet. He has moved in with his girlfriend Jennah and is already getting concert bookings for what promises to be a glittering career. Yet he knows he is skating on thin ice – only two small pills a day keep him from plunging back into the whirlpool of manic depression that once threatened to destroy him.
Suddenly Flynn finds himself in hospital, carnage left behind him. The medication isn’t working any more and depression strikes again, this time with horrific consequences. It seems like he has to make a choice between the medication and his career. But in all this he has forgotten the one person he would give his life for, and Flynn suddenly finds himself facing the biggest sacrifice of all.
978 1 862 30355 3
Also by Tabitha Suzuma for older readers
from where i Stand
tabithasuzuma
Raven is a deeply disturbed teenager. After witnessing the death of his mother and living in a children’s home, he’s now been placed in foster care.
His new family, the Russells, do their best to earn his trust but it’s going to take a long time.
Meanwhile, at school, bullies are making Raven’s life a living hell. And then an unexpected saviour comes in the form of Lotte, a classmate bored by her ‘ordinary’ friends. Together, they set out to track down Raven’s mum’s killer, in order to expose him to the police. But their carefully crafted plan goes dangerously wrong and suddenly nothing is as it seems. Everything is falling apart, and ultimately there is only one, final, way out.
978 1 862 30212 9
Table of Contents
Cover
Title
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Also by Tabitha Suzuma
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Forbidden Page 32
