“Yeah, it wasn’t the same without you. I wish you’d come too,” added David.
I shrug, pretending I don’t care.
“I didn’t fancy it, guys,” I say truthfully. “I felt seasick just looking at the boat bobbing on the water.”
“I’m starving! Is anyone else hungry? Will we get fish and chips?” asks Aisha.
I turn my back on her, quite deliberately, still seething with anger.
“What time is it?” asks Rowan. “We said we would meet Mum outside the Garrison at seven o’clock.”
“It’s nearly seven,” I say dully. “You’d better go and meet her.”
I feel horrible. Sulky and bad tempered. I don’t like the way I sound or the way I’m behaving, but I’m having trouble snapping out of it. While some of it is to do with feeling left out, I’m also still brimming with anger and distress over everything Summer told me about my family’s future without me.
“Are you ok, Lily?” asks David, looking at me seriously over the rims of his round glasses. “You don’t look happy.”
I bite my lip, to stop myself from bursting into silly tears, and give myself a mental shake. After all, I reason, it was my choice not to go on the boat trip. It wasn’t as if they were deliberately excluding me. I pride myself on being mature and now I’m behaving like a babyish eejit.
Grow up Lily, you’re not two years old, I think crossly, and am reminded instantly of wee Summer. Maybe if I’d gone with my friends in that rickety little rowing boat, I’d have fallen out and drowned. Maybe the boat would’ve been overcrowded and we’d have all drowned. Summer and I might have actually just managed to change all of our futures!
This thought cheers me up so much that I’m able to smile easily back at David.
“I’m fine, really,” I say. “I just felt a bit sad because it’s time for you to go home and I would have liked you to stay longer.”
Rowan, David, Aisha and I are pushing our bikes towards the Garrison when the red Citroën draws up beside us and Rowan’s mum sticks her head out of the window.
“Hi kids. Have you had a good day? Are you ready to go?”
As she speaks, I realise how much I don’t want my friends to leave. I thought I might have lost them forever and I’ve just got them back. And I don’t want to be alone tonight, worrying. I am determined to do something to fix this day. I can do anything, even alter the future.
“’Scuse me, Mrs Forrest,” I say hurriedly, rushing up to the car window. “My gran and I were wondering if Rowan and David would like to stay the night and come back with us tomorrow.”
It is such a spectacular fib that I can’t believe it’s coming out of my mouth. Mrs Forrest looks very doubtful. She doesn’t even let her daughter come round to my house. Why did I think she would let Rowan stay the night with me? The only positive thing is that she has met my gran quite often at the school gate and at sports days and stuff and knows that she’s the kind of lady who won’t stand for any nonsense. For once my gran being a bossy mare might work in my favour.
Rowan and David are so excited at the prospect that they are actually jumping up and down on the pavement.
“Oh go on, Mum!” shrieks Rowan. “It’ll be brilliant. I’ve never stayed in a caravan before.”
“You don’t have spare clothes or a toothbrush, Rowan,” says Mrs Forrest.
“I’ll be home in the morning, Mum,” wheedles Rowan. “It won’t kill me to wear the same underwear two days in a row and my teeth will survive until tomorrow.”
I wonder if Rowan should cry. That usually helps her to get her own way. I wish her dad was here. We need somebody who crumbles quickly under pressure!
“Well, let me phone David’s mother and make sure it’s all right with her first, and then I will call Lily’s gran.”
I shake my head. Gran will have a pink fit if the campsite owners come round to tell her she has a phone call.
“There’s no phone reception at the campsite at all,” I say, thinking on my feet. “But I asked Gran earlier today and she says it’s totally fine. It’s a lovely big three-bedroom caravan. There’s loads of room. Gran says she will bring us all home on the ferry first thing tomorrow morning.”
I am determined that this lie is going to work out, that my lovely day with my friends can still be salvaged, and that I will not be alone, thoroughly spooked by the day’s events, tonight. I’m not one bit sure about how my gran will react, but I will cross that bridge when I come to it.
Mrs Forrest has an unnecessarily long conversation on the phone with David’s mum while we hop excitedly about on the pavement. I am planning in my head what we can do tonight, the three of us.
Aisha is not included in my plans at all.
Eventually, Rowan’s mum ends her call and lets us know the verdict.
“Sandra thinks that it’s a very kind offer, as long as you are sure it is fine with your grandmother.”
“Oh, it’s absolutely, definitely fine with her,” I insist, hoping against hope that I’m telling the truth.
Rowan’s mum gives her a hug.
“Be good,” she says, still looking a little anxious. “You’ll need to ride your bikes round to the ferry in the morning by yourselves. Will you manage that?”
“Mum, we’re not babies,” groans Rowan. “We’ll be totally fine.”
“Well, I want you all to cycle straight over to the campsite right now, do you hear? You’ve not to wander around the town at night without an adult. Are you listening?”
We all agree that we will go to the campsite, just as soon as we’ve had some chips, and we wave cheerfully as Rowan’s mum drives off to catch the half-past-seven ferry.
Aisha suddenly announces that she needs to get home. I wave a casual hand in her direction, hardly acknowledging her. Rowan and David are more polite, and thank her for the boat trip, and ask if she is sure she doesn’t want to get fish and chips, after all. But I think Aisha has finally realised that I am freezing her out, and she turns her bike and walks quietly away.
As soon as I see her leaving, I feel major pangs of guilt. I am being really mean to her, and it’s not like me to be mean. I’m about to call her back, but can’t think what to say, so I let her go.
Rowan, David and I go to the chip shop, buy three fish suppers and eat them sitting on a bench at the old pier. I am getting butterflies thinking of bringing my two uninvited guests back to Gran’s caravan. She can be very forthright, my gran.
“Come on Lil,” says Rowan, scrunching up the greasy paper and flinging it in the bin. “Let’s go and see this caravan.”
We cycle home in the evening sunshine. It’s a beautiful night, still warm even at nearly eight o’clock. We stop for a rest at the war memorial and watch a hedgehog amble down the little path towards the beach. It senses our presence and freezes, its nose twitching comically.
“It must think that if it keeps really still, we can’t see it,” laughs Rowan.
With my best friends happily chatting away either side of me, I think about what a good job Summer has done warning me, even if it was very scary and unsettling at first. I feel weirdly proud of her, and reasonably hopeful that she has saved my life. Now all I have to do when I get home is make sure I return the favour, and give her a better, happier future.
And I realise that even though I was stressed, I did manage to stand up for myself. I didn’t let Aisha force me into going out on her brother’s boat. I didn’t feel safe and I said no. Right now I’m pretty glad about that.
***
As we approach the caravan site, I start having serious doubts. What if Gran tells them to go home? I will die of shame. But I underestimate her. Again.
“Hi Gran,” I call, as I see her still sitting outside in the sunshine, squeezed into her folding chair, which looks as if it might collapse under her weight at any second.
“I’ve brought Rowan and David to see the caravan. Rowan’s mum says it’s ok for them to stay the night.” I look pleadingly at Gran as I speak, ho
ping against hope that she won’t embarrass me. But her face breaks into a big smile.
“How lovely that your friends can stay over!” she says cheerfully, “Have you eaten? Would you like bacon rolls?”
David would, despite having demolished a fish supper only half an hour ago.
We sit on a rug in the evening sunshine, drinking hot chocolate that Gran makes for us. Then, when the midges start to bite, we head indoors and sit round the table playing Cluedo and cards. At ten o’clock Gran announces that she’s heading for bed and she shows David where he’ll be sleeping, in the smaller bunk room. Rowan is sharing with me, and for once I have no objections to sharing my room.
But I don’t want this evening to end, and I’m still freaked out about being alone with my thoughts if Rowan falls asleep quickly. When I hear Gran’s snores echoing around the caravan, I turn to Rowan and David.
“Do you fancy heading into Millport on our bikes?” I ask, thinking that tonight I’m behaving more like reckless Aisha than my usual sensible self. Their surprised expressions confirm this, so I quickly revert to type. I can’t help myself.
“The bikes all have lights so it won’t be dangerous,” I say, doing a quick risk assessment in my head. “There won’t be any traffic on the roads either.”
Rowan and David agree that this is a great plan and we sneak stealthily out of the front door, leaving my gran sleeping alone in the caravan. We almost trip over our bikes, abandoned on the grass, and Rowan has a fit of giggles.
“Shh!” hisses David, as a dog starts to bark in a nearby caravan. “You’d make a useless burglar, Row.”
Cumbrae seems very different in the moonlight. Coloured lights from across the water twinkle in the distance and are reflected in the black water. A tawny owl hoots eerily. A tiny mouse scurries along the grass verge. It’s all a bit spooky.
“I hope we don’t bump into any ghostly apparitions in the dark,” says David. I hope so too, but for different reasons. I’m hoping Summer is living happily in the future.
The journey seems to take much longer than usual and I’m chilly, despite Jenna’s fluffy pink cardigan. I am beginning to regret the whole stupid plan, but then see Millport’s streetlights glowing ahead. We’ve made it!
The streets of the town are deserted, though we can hear loud, tuneless singing echoing from the George Hotel. It must be karaoke night, or that daft guy serenading the girl from the kitchens.
“What do we do now?” asks Rowan. It’s a good question. The beach is dark and uninviting and the shops and cafés are long closed. A police car is driving slowly down the main street and we turn into a side road to avoid them. Gran will kill me if we are brought home by the police. This was a bad idea.
We are circling round the harbour area a bit aimlessly when I catch sight of a small figure sitting forlornly at the edge of the pier. For a minute I think it must be Summer. I’m instantly afraid that I haven’t changed the future after all, and that my life is still in danger.
But then I realise that it’s Aisha sitting there, head bowed in the semi-darkness. I shout to David and Rowan to wait for me for a moment and cycle over to where she is perched, legs dangling over the water.
“Aisha?” I call and she jumps in alarm.
“I diagnose an overactive startle response.” I say jokily, but then I see she is in no mood for joking. Her eyes are full of tears. I feel instantly responsible. I should have invited her to stay overnight too.
“Go away,” she sobs. “You made it quite clear that we’re not friends any more.”
“I was angry about the boat, Aisha,” I explain. “I’d told you loads of times that I didn’t want to go.”
“I hoped you’d change your mind when you saw your friends wanted to come.”
“I had good reasons, Aisha, and if you are going to be my friend, you’ll need to accept that if I say ‘no’, I mean it. It’s not nice to force anyone, or guilt anyone, into doing things they don’t want to do.” Making my feelings clear is not something I’m usually good at and I’m quite surprised and pleased that I’ve managed to assert myself like this. But I know I have to say more, in order to make things better between us. I’m in the wrong here too. “But Aisha, that doesn’t excuse how rude and mean to you I was when you came back from the boat and I’m very sorry about that. Can we call it quits and start again?”
Aisha looks up at me, her face crumpled with grief.
“I don’t have any friends left at school,” she says in a tiny voice. “Imran gave me a massive talking to this evening. He says I need to calm down and stop showing off or I won’t make friends in secondary school either. He says that I was showing off so much in the boat that it almost capsized and I put everyone in danger.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I think of the little boat rocking to and fro, precariously low in the water. Any extra weight and the boat could have tipped right over. And there were no life jackets. I send out a huge, silent thank you to Summer.
Aisha, though, is still in despair. “I think I must be a horrible person, Lily. Do you think that’s why my dad left? Was it because he thought I was a liar and a show-off too?”
“No, Aisha, of course it wasn’t why he left. You’re not a horrible person. You’re just a bit mixed up and upset right now. I bet your dad loves you to bits. Whatever’s going on with him, it will have nothing to do with you. Honestly, I mean it.”
Aisha’s brown eyes are brimming with tears.
“Really, Lily? You don’t think Dad left because of me?”
I step forward, planning to give her one of my awkward pats on the back, when I trip clumsily on one of the heavy iron rings bolted to the pier’s decking. My hands scrabble hopelessly in mid air, as I realise with horror that I am going over the side of the pier and into the ink-black water. My last focused thought as I fall is that it’s still not past midnight – June 26th. The day I was supposed to have died isn’t over yet. How could I have been so—
The sea is so cold that the pain of it makes me gasp. I feel like my thoughts and my heart are shutting down with the freezing shock. Trying to swim just makes me feel exhausted and weak, and the weight of my sodden clothes is dragging me down into the sea’s black, icy depths.
As I surface I try to scream, but a wave washes over my frozen, upturned face and cold saltwater fills my mouth. My throat and lungs burn and my limbs feel tired and heavy. Another wave slaps against my face and I panic, cry and gargle water. As the cold bites and my strength fades, I realise I’m drowning.
My thoughts are jumbling, slipping away. I don’t want to die. I want my mum. I want my gran. But there’s only me, alone in the sea, drifting further away from the pier with every gasp.
Then, above the roaring in my ears, there’s a distant, frantic yell. When I open my eyes, there’s an orange life buoy ring floating near my head. But when I reach out and try to grab it with numb, useless fingers, it slips out of my hands and bobs away on a wave.
I scream again, but this time, it’s a rage-filled scream. The feeling of helplessness has gone.
Pull yourself together, Lily McLean, I inwardly hiss. You are not going to die here in freezing darkness, no way. You’re wearing Mrs McKenzie’s water lily charm. It will keep you safe. You owe it to Summer not to die tonight. She needs you. And Jenna needs you. Don’t let her get thrown out of the house. And Bronx and Hudson need you. They’ll forget the Three Unbreakable Rules. They’ll get into trouble like their dad. And Mum needs you. Don’t let your step-dad back into their lives.
The life buoy ring is once again spinning through the air towards me. As it splashes in the water a short distance away, I gather all my strength and swim slowly, clumsily towards it. I reach out and clutch at its hard slippery sides. There’s a moment of euphoria when I manage to grab the rope looped round it, then haul myself up, so my head and shoulders are out of the water. My body is floating, like a water lily in a pond, no longer drowning.
My eyes close as I feel myself being dragged
through the rippling waves. All thoughts about being strong and keeping safe for my family’s sake have evaporated. I’m shuddering with cold and tiredness and can’t fight a moment longer. I need to sleep.
My sleep is disturbed by David, who is wrestling my body into the recovery position on the pier’s wooden boards. I give in to an uncontrollable urge to vomit all the seawater I’ve swallowed. Rowan is crying hysterically. She would not make a good nurse.
“You’ll be ok, Lily,” says Aisha, sounding anguished. “The air ambulance is on its way. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about everything. I’m an idiot. I’ve messed up so badly.”
“Aisha, it was an accident. Stop this,” barks David. “We need to focus on Lily. Can you hear me, Lil? It’ll be all right. Can you hear the helicopter? It’s coming for you.”
I can’t hear very well, for the buzzing in my ears. I try to shake my head, but can’t seem to get it to move. I must tell David he should be a nurse or a paramedic when he leaves school, rather than a film director. He’s good.
“Please forgive me, Lil. We are going to stay friends, aren’t we, Lil? Please?” asks Aisha, clutching my hand. She is a real mixed-up kid, that one. I try and squeeze her hand, but I don’t know if she can feel it. I am as weak and transparent as my ghost.
I close my eyes again, desperate for sleep.
Chapter 15
Reason to be happy:
I’m still alive… and that changes everything.
When I open my eyes a second time, everything looks different. The lights are so bright I have to blink furiously to focus. I am lying on a narrow bed, under starchy white sheets and a blue cotton blanket. There’s a machine bleeping and I’m attached to it by a long snaking tube, which ends in the back of my hand. There are cartoon animals painted on every wall. I’m dead and I’ve gone to Disney hell.
“Hi Lily,” says a gentle, familiar voice. I turn my head, which is aching, and see my mum standing by the bed. Her face is pale and tear-stained. “You’re in hospital, dear.”
The Mixed-Up Summer of Lily McLean Page 12
