by C. J. Skuse
But she’s so cold. I find her hands and I put my own gloves on them but her fingers are frozen. I hold one of them. ‘Squeeze my hand, Ellis.’
I feel a slight squeeze but it’s like I can’t reach her. She’s there, beside me, but she’s slipping away. I can barely dial 999 because my fingertips are frozen too.
‘Please hurry,’ I cry to the operator. ‘Please please hurry. I can’t lose her again.’
27
Wednesday, 6th November (afternoon)
The doctor who keeps popping in is called Dr Shelley Buhari, which is somewhat comforting as I sit beside Ellis’s bed, falling in and out of consciousness myself. Even though she spells her name differently to how Mum did, I feel like in some way Mum is here with us. She has the same skin colour, the same curly hair. I’ve asked her three times now if Ellis will be alright but she keeps saying variants of the same thing:
We will have to see. We will let you know if there is any change in her condition.
We are keeping a close eye on her but it’s a waiting game.
She is responding well to her treatment and her heart rate has returned to normal but only time will tell.
It’s all vague bon mots and pleasantries and the nurses keep popping in to check Ellis’s drip and empty the piss bag by the bed but I get no new information. She’s breathing via a thick blue tube and her machines are bleeping at least. I just have to wait now.
So I do. I hold her hand and I talk to her and I wait. Even with the heat pads they’ve placed on her limbs, her skin’s still so cold. I watch TV and I stroke the top of her hand and her cheek and her dyed black hair and I wait. I read the paper, I go to the vending machine and I sleep and I eat and I read and I watch TV and I wait.
I haven’t long since returned from the vending machine with a Crunchie and a bag of crisps when I step through the door of her room and there’s all this movement and noise – two nurses stand over her, removing her tubing. She’s blinking wildly, coughing, taking big slurps of breath.
‘Oh my god, what’s happening?’ I say, dropping my sweets to the floor.
‘It’s alright,’ says one of the nurses. ‘She’s awake.’
Never were two words more welcome or cherished: she’s awake. I’ve waited hours for this moment. Ellis is lying there, still coughing and breathing big breaths when the nurses settle her down, her eyes watering with the ferocity of her coughs. Her cheeks are rosy. She starts looking around. She sees me. She frowns.
Her voice is husky. ‘Auntie Chelle?’
I grab her hand. She feels warmer.
‘No, it’s me. It’s Foy.’
‘You’re Auntie Chelle.’
I shake my head. ‘No, it’s me. I promise. I just look like her.’
Her face crumples but I get to her before any of her tears can fall and we hold each other. She’s shaking, like I was shaking. But now I am strong. I am strong for her. I pull back and wipe my eyes.
She won’t let go of my hand. ‘You grew up.’
‘Yeah. Sorry about that.’
‘You found me.’
‘Can you remember what happened?’
‘Yeah,’ she croaks. And then she looks at me, guilt in her eyes. ‘I did a bad thing, Foy. I did a really bad thing.’
‘I know. It’s okay. It’s all going to be fine.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes. I promise.’
‘But… I killed him. Frida Kahlo knows.’
‘Who’s Frida Kahlo?’
‘On my picture, where is it?’
My thoughts go to the note I found on her in the treehouse, written on the back of the scary eyebrows woman. The one I burned with my lighter at the back of the school and stamped into the snow while waiting for the ambulance. ‘Don’t worry about that now.’
‘Where am I, Foy? Is this Heaven?’
‘You’re at Musgrove in Taunton. They brought you in with hypothermia. You’ve had to have a couple of toes off, Elle. You had frostbite.’
Her lips are all dry as she talks. ‘They moved the tree-house.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘I thought you’d all be there. At the pub. But you’d gone.’
‘We left the pub years ago.’
‘Isaac and Paddy,’ she smiles, closing her eyes. ‘Are they here too?’
‘No, they’re back at home. They both send their love. We live in France.’
‘Do you live with them?’
‘Yes. We all live together. Isaac’s husband Joe lives there too, and their little boy Jonah, and Paddy’s wife Lysette and their two girls.’
‘And Auntie Chelle and Uncle Stu?’
I so want to tell her good news and keep her smiling but it’s impossible because she already sees it in my eyes. I can’t lie to her, ironically. I shake my head.
‘No. They’re not there.’ But she seems to know. She reaches up for me again and we hug and cry together.
‘Both of them?’ she whispers. I nod. ‘It’s okay. It’s okay,’ she says, and then it’s her comforting me.
‘Mum always wanted me to find you,’ I tell her, pulling back. ‘She said we needed to know. It was like a hole running right through her.’
‘She was the only mum I had. We’re sisters really, aren’t we, you and me?’
‘I wish we were.’
‘Foy – I was going to kill myself. I took some pills—’
‘It’s okay, I know.’
‘I didn’t take all of them. Only two, I think. I didn’t want to do it. I couldn’t.’
‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’
‘Most of them fell into the bath when that man—’ She stops. Closes off.
‘There’s plenty of time to talk about everything, don’t worry.’ I kiss her forehead. ‘God, I can’t believe you’re here. I feel like I’m going to wake up.’
‘How did you find me?’
I sit down on the bed beside her, still holding her hand within my own. ‘You remember Kaden? The man who lived in the flat above you?’
‘He works at the gym. He went weird on me. Did you know him?’
‘He was working for me, Ellis. He was a private detective I hired to find you.’
She frowns. ‘No, he works at the gym. He taught me self-defence. That saved my life, Foy.’
‘He was only working part-time at the gym. That was his cover. He was working for me. I wasn’t interfering. I just wanted to know you were happy.’
‘I wasn’t happy, was I?’ I shake my head. ‘Is he here? Is Kaden here?’
‘No. He went back to London. Pretty much as soon as you disappeared, so did he. Cheap git. I’m not paying him for half a job.’
‘There were pictures of me on his phone.’
‘Yeah. I asked him to take them for me. I’m sorry if that was wrong.’
‘I looked for you too.’
‘Did you?’
‘They wouldn’t let me send you any letters.’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ I say, stroking her face. ‘It really doesn’t. I was worried about you. Neil thought you’d faked your own death.’
‘Neil?’
‘I think you call him Scants?’
‘How do you know Scants? Why does he care?’
‘He was at your flat before I was. We’ve been spending a lot of time together, trying to find out where you were. He worked it all out.’
‘And you found me.’ She grips my hand. ‘Does he hate me? I bet he does.’
‘No, he doesn’t hate you. He was very worried about you.’
‘I thought he didn’t want anything more to do with me.’
‘He made a mistake. He didn’t know what to think. You’ve told lots of lies.’
‘I know.’
‘Why?’
‘To make myself feel better. But it didn’t.’ And then she looks at me, and a smile appears. And I know what that smile means. I know exactly what she’s going to say. ‘You’re blushing. You fancy him, don’t you?’
I can’t stop the
grin tearing into my face. ‘That doesn’t matter now.’
‘It does,’ she smiles. ‘Urgh, he’s really old. And he’s miserable. And he drinks.’
‘I know all that. I’ve got to know him quite well over the past week.’
‘Have you… done naughties yet?’
‘We were a little preoccupied trying to find you, actually. He messaged me earlier. He’s on his way down.’
‘Did he put a kiss on the message?’
‘Three.’
Ellis smiles and tries to squeal in excitement but coughs at the same time. When she’s finished and sure she’s not going to cough again, she asks, ‘Am I going to go to prison, Foy?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘No. Neil has dealt with it.’
‘The doughnut man?’ she whispers. ‘How?’
‘You know Scants, Ellis. He keeps his cards close to his chest, doesn’t he?’
‘You called me Ellis.’
‘That’s alright, isn’t it?’ I say. ‘Would you rather I called you something else? How about Mary? Or Charlotte? Or Genevieve? Ruth? Joanne?’
‘No,’ she says. ‘I like you calling me Ellis.’
‘Then I’ll call you Ellis. I want you to come and live with us. With all of us.’
‘You do? In France?’
‘Yeah, in France.’
‘Do you have enough room?’
‘Uh, yeah, you could say that.’ I smile and remove my phone from the little side table where it’s charging in a power socket. I rip out the wire and unlock it, going into Photos. I scroll through and find the right album before handing it to her. She fumbles with it, like she’s forgotten how to use her fingers, then flips the phone on its side to see the pictures better. ‘We’ve got sixty-four rooms, actually.’
She frowns, scrolling through. ‘You can’t live here. It’s a palace.’
‘It’s a castle, actually,’ I grin. ‘A chateau. We bought it cheap between us and we’ve been doing it up. The ground floor’s almost finished.’
‘It’s a castle, Foy. You bought a real castle?!’
‘Yes we did. Chateau Eleanora. It’s got sixty-four rooms, a wine cellar, a pool, an orchard, a forest and five outbuildings. It’s in what the French call a Zone Loisir Constructible which means we can get planning permission easily for things like a campsite or some chalets. We’re going to focus on that next year. The boys are going to have two of the outbuildings eventually as self-contained chalets – Paddy wants an art studio and Isaac wants a gym, but that’s our way-in-the-future plans.’
‘Oh, wow!’
‘You can have your own room, en suite.’
‘Can I?’
‘Of course, eventually. We’ll have to get it ship-shape first though. Most of the rooms above the first floor are derelict at the moment. And then there’s the mice.’
‘Mice?’
‘Yeah. We have to share it with them, which isn’t ideal. But we manage. And we’re together.’
‘Any unicorns?’ she smiles.
‘No, not yet. I’m keeping an eye on eBay for a T-Rex though.’
‘It sounds perfect,’ Ellis laughs, a tear trickling down her cheek as she scrolls slowly through the pictures. ‘It’s the most magical place I’ve ever seen. Where is it?’
‘About fifteen minutes from Bergerac airport. Four hours from the Eurostar. It is a bit remote but—’
‘I love it.’
‘So you’ll come? Really?’
‘Try and stop me! I used to have cats. They could have dealt with your mice.’
‘Oh that reminds me,’ I say. ‘We found The Duchess.’
‘You did? Where was she?’
‘In your airing cupboard. And she wasn’t alone. She’d had six kittens.’
‘Oh, wow! I didn’t know she was having babies! Is she alright?’
‘Yeah, they’re all fine. Sean the RSPCA man came and collected them, and took them back to his place. He was worried about you when we told him you were missing.’
‘Oh, was he?’
‘Yeah, he was. You don’t fancy him by any chance, do you?’ I say, nudging her and then it’s her turn to go red in both cheeks.
‘Bit,’ she replies, smiling so wide her dry lips begin to crack and bleed.
‘I left a message for him earlier. He wanted to know you were alright.’
‘That’s nice of him.’ She grips my hand tighter, two tears escaping both eyes and dribbling down to the pillow beneath her head. I remove Thread Bear from my bag and her face lights up as his paw strokes the water away.
‘I keep thinking you’re going to disappear,’ she says, gripping my hand – a good strong grip now. ‘I don’t want to let go of you.’
‘Then don’t,’ I tell her. ‘Don’t ever.’
December 23rd One Year Later
Selfridges, Oxford Street, London
28
Ellis
‘So what are your plans for Christmas?’ asks the make-up lady as she applies my second coat of lip tint – Rosy Blush. I picked it out specially.
‘Well I live in France now – my cousin has a chateau and we all live there. Me, my cousin Foy and her fiancé Neil, and her two brothers Paddy and Isaac and their partners and kids, so we’re going to have a nice big family Christmas at home.’
‘A chateau?’ She gives me the eyebrow. ‘Wow. Sounds like a fairy tale.’
‘No, it’s real,’ I say. ‘It really is a chateau. I can’t believe it myself sometimes but look.’ I show her my screensaver, the picture we took on the Easter egg hunt this year, all of us together stood outside with our baskets.
‘Aww, what a lovely picture. You’ve got a right houseful there, haven’t you?’
‘Yeah, we have. It’s wonderful.’
‘How come you’re back in London then?’
‘To do our Christmas shopping. My boyfriend still lives over here but he’s hoping to join us next year. He’s going to live with us as well.’ I scroll through my photos to show her one of many pictures I have of him.
‘Blimey, even more of a houseful!’
‘Yep, there’s sixty-four rooms.’
‘You’re having me on.’
‘No, honestly. My cousins bought it with their inheritance money from their parents who died a few years ago. Now they’re doing it up. We’re turning the old pigeonry into a gym at the moment, and the pump house is going to be an artist’s studio. My cousin Paddy is going to do workshops over there. It’s going to be terrific. Me and Sean are going to look after all the animals.’
‘Close your eyes for me a second.’ She dusts my lids with peach shimmer. I can’t see how shimmery it is of course but I’m not worried at the moment. ‘This colour goes perfectly with your beautiful red hair. Really shows it off.’
‘Great,’ I smile. ‘Sean booked this appointment for me cos it’s my birthday.’
‘Ahh, that was sweet of him. Happy birthday.’
‘Thanks!’
‘Dare I ask?’
‘I’m twenty-nine today,’ I say proudly. ‘He took me out for a meal at lunchtime too. A lush Chinese restaurant in Soho. And he got me some DVDs. And a framed photo of us with our dogs. We’ve got three dogs now and seven cats. All rescues.’
‘Seven cats?’
‘Yeah. My cat The Duchess had six kittens and I didn’t want to get rid of any of them so we kept them all. There’s plenty of room for them at the chateau and they keep the mice problem down. Foy’s got horses, too, a whole field of them. She’s hoping to set up a riding school in the new year when she’s had her baby.’
‘Proper family affair over there then, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah it is. Most of the rooms aren’t finished yet so we’re all living in the one wing, all ten of us, including the baby. It’s due in May. I count the baby as one extra already though. I’ve bought so many cute things for it. It’s going to be a little girl.’
‘Ahhh, bet you’ll spoil her rotten.’
‘Oh,
definitely. I’m her fairy godmother.’
‘Have you got any kids of your own?’
‘No,’ I say, opening my eyes and looking at her straight on, even though she’s waiting to apply more shimmer to my lids. ‘No, I can’t have children.’
‘Oh,’ she says, straightening up.
‘It’s okay. I have more than I ever dreamed. I have my family back. And I have Paddy and Isaac’s kids to play with. And I teach at a primary school in the next village. I’m surrounded by kids.’
‘Do you know, I think you’ve got the best of both worlds there. You get all the fun stuff then you can give them back at the end of the day.’ She affords me a conciliatory nod then a smudge of my cheekbones, holding up the mirror to show me her artwork. ‘Would you like me to add any more to your eyebrows? Any strobing?’
‘Yeah, why not?’ I say.
‘No problem.’
She feels sorry for me, cos of the no kids thing, I can tell by the amount of freebies I get in my bag, but I don’t think I’ve laid it on too thick, unlike her with my rosy blush lipstick. It’s supposed to be a tint – looks more like a paste. I buy the concealer, the most basic item I use in daily life, but she bungs in a whole host of extra goodies – samples of a brand new volumising eyebrow gel, two sachets of foundation, a lip gloss sampler, two discontinued eye shadows and a Horse Kind make-up brush.
‘Well, have a fantastic Christmas, Ellis,’ she says, upon handing me the little bag and my receipt. And I know she means that with every fibre of that make-up brush.
‘Thank you so much,’ I say, and I mean that too. And I try not to skip out of there, full of the joys of a brand new face.
Sean’s waiting for me by the escalators. ‘Hiya. How did you get on?’
‘Good thanks,’ I say, fluttering my eyelashes as he plants a kiss on my lips, then licks his own lips and frowns. ‘Mmm, Turkish Delight.’
We hold hands as we start walking towards the exit. ‘She put too much on really. What do you think? Is it me?’
