Back to You

by Cathy Cole

  “It’s only a ten-minute ride,” Becca told her, patting the seat next to her laughingly. “Take that look off your face, will you?”

  Eve sat down, trying to avoid the glob of chewing gum stuck in the fibres on the seat cover. “Is the cottage far from the bus stop when we get there?”

  “About a mile. It’s mostly downhill, which is good news.”

  “We have to walk?” Eve said, horrified. Her feet were slippery with sweat and her suitcase would cut her fingers to shreds. “Can’t we take a taxi?”

  “Sure,” said Becca with a shrug. “If you have five pounds.”

  Eve thought of the single pound coin she had left in her purse after the bus fare. Feeling downcast, she shook her head. “I don’t.”

  “You need to toughen up,” Becca said sympathetically. “You won’t last five minutes in the real world if you’re freaking out at the thought of a little downhill walk.”

  Eve bit her lip. “Sorry. I’m just not used to this.”

  “I wasn’t either, once upon a time. You learn quickly.”

  The walk downhill to Becca’s cottage was rough and stony. Becca strode ahead, her hands holding on to the straps of her rucksack, as Eve struggled with her case. Her fingers were killing her. So were her feet. She wished she had a rucksack like Becca.

  I’ll buy one tomorrow.

  Eve pushed the thought away with a heavy heart. She wasn’t going to be buying anything, any time soon. That was almost the strangest thing of all.

  “Here we are,” said Becca, stopping at a little white gate. “Home sweet home!”

  Eve struggled up the dusty path to the front door. Standing on tiptoes, Becca felt around above the door frame.

  “Excellent,” she said, producing a dull iron key. “Glad no one thought of putting this somewhere else. Too busy fighting about how much the place is worth to even visit it, I guess.”

  The cottage was cool and dark. Eve pressed a light switch.

  “No electricity,” said Becca. “They cut it off when Gran died. Don’t worry, I have candles. Matches too.”

  Setting her rucksack down on the dusty kitchen table, Becca produced a large box of matches and three fat candles, which she lit. “This place is filthy,” she said, staring around. “We need to clean it up a little. See what you can find, Eve. Gran used to keep stuff in the cupboard under the stairs.”

  An old bottle of bleach and some grey sponges sat a cobwebbed shelf under the stairs. Eve picked up the sponges gingerly between two fingers and carried them to Becca. Only Becca wasn’t in the kitchen any more. Eve felt frightened. She wasn’t sure she could cope here by herself. Where had her friend gone?

  “Water’s off too,” Becca said, coming through the kitchen door with a pail of water in her hand. “Thank goodness Gran’s old pump still works. Roll up your sleeves then, we have cleaning to do.”

  This was a day of firsts for Eve. Declined credit cards, bus rides, walking. Now cleaning, up to her elbows in cold water with the stink of bleach in her nostrils. She wished they could heat up the water. Her arms were going numb.

  When the kitchen was clean and most of the cobwebs had been cleared away, Becca disappeared through the back door again.

  “Where are you going now?” Eve asked helplessly.

  “Firewood. Gran used to have a woodpile at the end of the garden. Help me fetch in some logs.”

  “It’s too hot for a fire,” Eve said, following.

  “Not to keep warm. To cook our dinner!”

  They carried two armfuls of logs into the house and dumped them beside the large, cold and blackened fireplace in the living room. Eve tried not to think about the creepy crawlies in the wood, or the way the logs were showering her with dirt. Becca had collected handfuls of smaller twigs and moss, which she laid efficiently in the hearth. Soon a little flicker of fire was licking up from the centre of the twigs. Eve lifted a big log from the top of the pile and made to drop it on the top.

  “Not yet,” said Becca, grabbing the log, “you’ll kill the fire. Wait a little while. Then we build it slowly, OK? What’s the smallest log we have?”

  Becca had grown up, Eve realized. The girl Eve remembered had been interested in ponies, cuddly toys and not much else. This Becca had a toughness about her that Eve could only wonder at.

  After about ten minutes, Becca seemed satisfied with the fire. “Watch it and don’t let it go out,” she instructed, getting up and dusting off the knees of her jeans. “I’ll go see what food I can find.”

  Eve sat watching the flames, listening to the sound of clattering from the kitchen. Her stomach growled loudly. It had been a long time since she’d eaten anything.

  “Beans,” Becca announced, carrying an opened tin back into the living room along with a saucepan which she balanced on the fire. “I found them in the larder, right at the back. A bit out of date, but not too bad.”

  The beans tasted a little metallic, but with a handful of crackers from Becca’s rucksack, they were fine. Dessert was more successful. Becca wrapped bananas and two chocolate bars from the Grand Hotel’s minibar in some kitchen foil she found in a drawer and tucked them in the fire. The result was gooey and delicious.

  They sat by the flickering fire as the evening began to draw in, drinking mini-cans of juice from the minibar and remembering the fun they’d had as children.

  “Do you remember my roller-skating party? Chloe’s tooth went right through her tongue. I’ve never seen so much blood.”

  “What about Christmas that time when it snowed and we made tinsel wings for the snow angels we created in the front garden?”

  They were good memories, every single one of them. Eve felt happy and relaxed, the events of earlier in the day far away. The only thing missing was a bath. Unless she wanted to heat up the water on the fire one saucepan at a time, that particular luxury would have to wait. She found she didn’t mind. She just wanted to stay where she was, lying on the sofa wrapped up in an old blanket Becca had found in a cupboard.

  Becca had left school last year. “Education was never really my thing,” she said. “Mum and Dad moved around so much, it was hard to make friends in all the different places I went to. One school I ended up repeating a whole year of stuff I’d already done. I got bored, so I quit. Thought I’d go exploring.”

  Eve felt envious of Becca’s freedom and independence. “It must be fun,” she said. “Doing whatever you want without worrying about school any more.”

  “It’s fun when I have money in my pocket. Not so fun when I don’t. But I’ve had a lot of adventures. I travel a lot, town to town, looking for work. I did the grape harvest in France in the autumn. Chalet girl work in the Alps over the winter was good – I went skiing for the first time since I was eight. There’s plenty of work around if you’re flexible. Gardening, waitressing, that kind of thing.”

  Eve rested her head against Becca’s shoulder. Her eyes were fluttering shut. “I could do that,” she said sleepily. “Especially the chalet girl thing.”

  “Sure you could,” said Becca. Her arm came round Eve, cuddling her the way she used to when they were children sleeping over at each other’s houses. “You’ll just have to learn to cook first.”

  I want to stay like this for ever, Eve thought dimly as sleep claimed her. I hope Becca never leaves again.

  ELEVEN

  Eve was woken by a buzzing sound. She sat up blearily, dislodging Becca’s arm. The morning light was spilling through the cottage windows, promising a hot day.

  Her phone was flashing on the floor by the ashes of the fire. The battery was almost dead. Eve automatically looked for an electric socket, before remembering where she was. Becca’s granny’s cottage, by the sea, miles from anywhere without any electricity at all.

  She picked up her phone and looked at it. Three messages from Rhi.

  You OK? Keep trying your phone
but you’re not picking up.

  xx

  Eve, talk to me. Nearly back at the hotel. Where are you?

  xx

  Hotel said you’d left. They weren’t very pleased. Had to ask Dad to pay hotel bill. He wasn’t pleased either! Call me xx

  There were five missed calls too, all from Rhi. She had been so absorbed talking with Becca she hadn’t even checked her phone. Eve bit her lip, feeling guilty. Why hadn’t she called Rhi and explained what had happened? Becca’s unexpected arrival had made her forget everything else. Of course Rhi would have gone to the hotel after school. Poor Rhi would have found her suitcase in reception and a stony-faced hotel manager demanding payment. Eve’s toes curled in guilt.

  Her phone was in the critical battery zone. She owed Rhi a proper explanation, but there was only enough power left for a single text.

  I’m fine. Sorry to go silent on you. Thank your dad for paying the bill. I’ll pay him back as soon as I can. Just need a couple of days away, OK? xx

  The phone sent the message, and promptly went dark. That was it. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Eve was offline. She got up from under the blanket, scrubbing at her eyes. She needed to wash her face and her teeth felt furry.

  Eve stepped into the garden to find the water pump Becca had used to fill the pail the day before. She stood quite still for a moment, bowled over by the beauty of the rambling garden in the early morning sunlight, the dew-drenched grass and the riot of pink and white roses growing haphazardly everywhere she looked. Through a gap in the hills ahead, she could see the sea. It was like something out of a storybook.

  I want to stay here for ever, she thought, marvelling at the colours and smells in the wild little garden. Just me and Becca.

  She really needed a wash. Fetching the pail from the kitchen, she located the pump near the garden wall. How did it work? There were no taps, no helpful instructions. Eve picked up the long metal handle and waggled it experimentally, then jumped backwards as water gushed out and soaked the toes of her shoes.

  “Oh!”

  “Wet feet?” Becca laughed, standing in the kitchen door with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. “Too bad. Breakfast?”

  Breakfast was more crackers, a bag of crisps and two rather soft apples, plus a glass of water from the pump. It was hard not to dream of croissants and a steaming jug of coffee, thought Eve, biting into her crackers.

  You’re lucky to have anything at all, she reminded herself, thinking of the handful of small change in her purse, which was all the money she had in the world. She shuddered to think what might have happened to her if Becca hadn’t turned up.

  “So what did you bring in that suitcase, anyway?” Becca asked as they washed their plates under the pump.

  Eve suddenly felt embarrassed. Something told her Becca wouldn’t be too impressed with her selection of clothes. “I didn’t have much time to choose,” she said as Becca upended her case on the sofa.

  “Not the most practical wardrobe, is it?” Becca said, sifting through the silk shirts, dresses and suede ballet pumps. “Don’t you own any hoodies or hiking boots, useful clothes like that?”

  Eve made a face. “Hoodies and boots? Not exactly my style, Becca.”

  “One of the first things you learn when you don’t have money is that style comes way down the list. Get dressed and we’ll go shopping.” Becca caught the brightening look on Eve’s face. “Grocery shopping,” she added. “We need more food.”

  It was always about food, Eve realized, pulling on a skirt and jumper and slipping her feet into a fresh pair of shoes before quickly brushing her teeth at the garden pump. Was this going to be her life from now on?

  “We’ll have to rough you up a little,” said Becca, snatching the hairbrush out of Eve’s hands. “No one’s going to give us any grocery deals with you looking like that.”

  She lifted a jumper from the suitcase and the only pair of trousers Eve had packed: white linen ones with a rope belt.

  “Come back!” Eve said in alarm as Becca disappeared into the kitchen. “What are you doing with those? They’re Armani!”

  To Eve’s utter horror, Becca had pulled a large pair of rusty scissors from the kitchen drawer and was now snipping the trousers down to knee length.

  “Much better,” she said, tossing them back to Eve. “We’ll take the bottom off this jumper too.”

  Eve could hardly speak as Becca deftly snipped off the rolled hem off the bottom of her favourite sea-green cashmere jumper.

  “Quite chic in a scruffy way,” she said, tossing them back to Eve. “Wear those with the wet shoes and you might pass for someone in need of a good meal. And don’t even think of make-up.”

  Feeling utterly crestfallen, Eve put on her roughed up trousers and jumper. With her half-brushed hair she felt unrecognizable. She couldn’t go out like this. What would people think?

  “Hey,” said Becca, catching sight of Eve’s expression. “See this as an adventure, OK? You’re dressing up, acting a part. We did it enough as children.”

  “We played pirates, not beggars,” said Eve helplessly. “I can’t wear this.”

  Becca sighed. “Eve, the shopkeepers drive hard bargains. If they see you’re wearing nice clothes, there’s no way they’ll give us a thing.”

  Pretend it’s a game, Eve told herself, trying to smooth down the front of her jumper. She snagged a bit of wool, which unravelled between her fingers. You can do this.

  They walked back up the stony track to the main road, where there was a small shop attached to a petrol station. Between them they had the grand total of three pounds and forty-seven pence. They wouldn’t get much with that, would they?

  “Morning,” said Becca as they entered the shop. She picked up a loaf of bread and waggled it at him. “Any deals today?”

  The shopkeeper shook his head. “No deals so early in the morning. Later in the day, maybe. But not now.”

  Becca held the bread to her chest. “This is the oldest loaf on the shelf. No one is going to buy it when there are fresher ones available, are they? If I come back later, it will still be here, only more stale. And I might not want it then, and you’ll have made no money at all. Pretty please?”

  Eve felt horribly embarrassed. She’d never seen anyone haggling in a shop before. She stayed by the door, pretending to be interested in the magazines on the rack as her face burned with shame.

  “Your friend has no money either, hmm?” said the shopkeeper, eyeing Eve.

  Becca placed the loaf, a broken packet of crackers, a box of eggs, a packet of ham on its sell-by date and two overripe bananas by the till. “She has even less than me, can’t you tell?”

  Eve cringed a little further into the magazine shelf. This was so humiliating. Then again, they had to eat. She couldn’t wait for the transaction to be over so they could get out of the shop.

  “I’m an honest customer,” Becca said persuasively. “And at least I pay for things, instead of stealing them. Will you take two pounds for these?”

  “You are killing me!” the shopkeeper grumbled. “Two pounds fifty.”

  Eve could hardly believe it when Becca handed over just two pounds twenty for the bread, crackers, ham, eggs and bananas.

  “You’re amazing,” she said in wonder as they left the shop. “How did you do that?”

  Becca handed Eve one of the bananas. “It’s like I said back in the cottage. You pretend to be someone else. Someone who won’t take no for an answer. So. Now we’ve got the shopping out of the way, what do you want to do next?”

  TWELVE

  The rest of the day unfolded in lazy sunshine. After stowing the eggs and crackers in the cool pantry, Becca took Eve to a deep seawater pool not far from her grandmother’s cottage, with its own little beach and rocks that sheltered them from the wind. When Becca stripped down to her underwear and dived into t
he deepest part of the pool, Eve followed suit. It felt good to take off her ruined clothes, although she left her necklace with its key pendant around her neck.

  “Can’t catch me,” Becca grinned, swimming up to push Eve beneath the water.

  Eve ducked away from Becca’s reaching arms, spluttering with laughter as she breached the surface. “You have to move faster than that!”

  Clean and breathless, they sunbathed together on the rocks until they were dry enough to put their clothes on again. With all the sun and fresh air, Eve realized she was starving. They picnicked on the rocks with the bread and ham, together with handfuls of wild rocket and baby dandelion leaves that Becca had picked along the path. Better still, Becca showed Eve a green patch with glistening jewel-like strawberries, which they ate in warm, scented handfuls. When the sun went down they returned to the cottage, where Becca worked more magic with the eggs and crackers over a freshly lit fire and they talked into the small, moonlit hours.

  “I wish we could do this every day,” Eve said, lying lazily on the packed sand in a small, deserted cove near the cottage the following afternoon.

  “We can,” Becca said simply. “We’re free.”

  It was true. Now that she was getting used to living with very little, Eve found that she wanted to shout at the sky, to punch the air and spin in circles. No one knew they were here, no one was looking for them, the sun was in the sky. What more did they need? She fingered the key around her neck thoughtfully. Becca was so resourceful. Perhaps she would be able to help Eve find the secret compartment in her dad’s study. How could she ask?

  Eve put the question to the back of her mind. She didn’t want it to taint this magical time she was spending with her friend. “Race you to the water,” she said, scrambling to her feet in order to sprint down to where the sea lapped in bright ripples at the shore.