Butterfly Summer

by Anne-Marie Conway

  I pulled back, shaking my arm free. “It’s not the Butterfly Garden, is it?” I couldn’t face introducing him to Rosa May. Not today. “I don’t mind, it’s just that I’ve been there already. More than once actually.”

  “No, you’re alright,” he said. “It’s not the Butterfly Garden.” He stopped for a second outside the shop. “Watch out for Mrs. Jackson though,” he whispered. “I know she looks like a sweet old lady, but she is in fact an undercover spy working for the secret service. Pass me your phone for a minute and I’ll give you my number – just in case you ever find yourself in danger.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to be in danger? From Mrs. Jackson?”

  “Better to be safe than sorry,” he said.

  Inside the shop, I walked up to the counter with a bottle of water, trying to keep a straight face.

  “Hello, Becky, my love,” said Mrs. Jackson, smiling her crinkly smile. “I didn’t know you and Mack were friends.”

  “We’ve only just met,” I said, grinning. I felt like I’d been grinning non-stop ever since Mack turned up on the doorstep. “He’s showing me around the village.”

  “Isn’t that nice. We missed you at church this morning. And you, Mackie Williams.”

  Mack held his hands up. “To tell you the truth, Mrs. Jackson, I couldn’t make it to the service this morning because I was taking a very important call from the Prime Minister.”

  “Get away with you,” she said.

  “I kid you not,” said Mack seriously. “But don’t ask me what it was about, because if I tell you I’ll have to kill you.”

  Mrs. Jackson’s shoulders shook with laughter. “I think the sun’s affected your brain,” she said. “Why don’t you take an ice lolly to cool yourself down – and you take one too, Becky. You deserve it, walking about in this ghastly heat.”

  Mack led me out around the back of the shop and across the road into a small wooded area. It was slightly cooler there, and as we wove our way through the tall, leafy trees, I felt as if I was in the middle of a fairy tale where absolutely anything might happen. Mack stopped suddenly in front of a den. Tree stumps and old branches and planks of wood nailed together to make a small, secret hideaway.

  “Wow, what’s this?”

  Mack laughed. “This is where I come when I need to get away from my nagging mum! I built it years ago with my dad and I’m pretty sure no one else knows it’s here. Except for my dad, of course – and now you.”

  My tummy flipped over again. It was crazy. I was standing in the middle of a wood with the cutest boy I’d ever met in my life. It should’ve freaked me out, but for some reason I felt okay. Like I could trust him. We crawled into the den and sat with our knees up, facing each other, finishing our ice lollies. The ground was hard and covered in old leaves and twigs, but it didn’t matter.

  Mack drew noughts and crosses in the dust with his lolly stick and we played best-of-three and then best-of-five. He won every time, cracking joke after joke to distract me and then accidentally-on-purpose rubbing out the entire grid on the one go I actually came close to beating him.

  “I have never met such a cheat in my life!” I cried, grabbing the lolly stick and drawing another grid.

  “My mum taught me that, years ago. Always bring the game to a close if you’re in danger of losing! Hey, did you know that according to my mum we actually knew each other when we were babies?”

  I stared at him.

  “In fact you could say that this is The Big Reunion.”

  “We couldn’t have known each other when we were babies. There’s no way. My mum left Oakbridge before I was born.”

  Mack shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Maybe my mum used to visit your mum then, after she moved. At her new place.”

  I frowned, racking my brains. Every time I tried to think of the past it was dark and murky, filled with difficult, unanswered questions.

  I shook my head. “She can’t have. We’ve never met before, Mack. I’m sure of it.”

  “I know it’s hard to imagine anyone forgetting someone like me,” he laughed, “but you were probably, like, two months old at the time.”

  “Big-head!” I swiped him with the lolly stick. “How did your camping trip go, by the way?”

  Mack rolled his eyes. “Survival in the wild – my dad’s idea of fun. You should’ve seen us trying to build a fire, it was the biggest joke. We ended up eating cold baked beans out of the tin for three days in a row!”

  I smiled but my tummy clenched up. I’d eat cold baked beans out of the tin for the rest of my life if it meant I could go camping with my dad. “How often do you see him? Is it only in the holidays?” I looked down, worried I was being too personal, but Mack seemed totally unfazed.

  “No, I see him most weekends,” he said. “He’s really into rugby so he comes to the games, and I see him whenever I go swimming.”

  My head snapped back up. Not someone else who was mad on swimming!

  “He works at the leisure centre in Farnsbury,” he went on. “You should come with me next time. I can get you in for free.”

  “You’re alright,” I said. “Come on, we should be getting back.” My palms were slick with sweat. I don’t know what it was about Oakbridge, but it seemed as if everyone was obsessed with swimming. First Rosa May and now Mack. Either that or it was just too hot for anyone to imagine doing anything else.

  “You’re not turning me down, are you?” said Mack as we made our way out of the woods and back to the green. “It’s the hottest summer on record, ever, and I’m offering you free entry to a great swimming pool and you’re turning me down?” He put his hands together, pleading. “Seriously, Becky – I’m going on Thursday with a couple of mates and I need you there to make sure they don’t splash me.”

  “Very funny,” I said, but I couldn’t help smiling.

  “So you’ll come then? Go on, it’ll be a laugh.”

  What was I supposed to say? That I’d never been to a swimming pool in my life? That I was terrified of water? That I wanted to learn how to swim more than anything in the whole world?

  I nodded and shrugged and shook my head all at the same time.

  “Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

  My excitement about meeting Mack faded pretty quickly. The more I thought about the time we’d spent together, the more uneasy I felt. It was one thing wandering around Oakbridge, or playing noughts and crosses in his den, but the idea of going swimming, and with a load of his friends, made me want to run a mile in the opposite direction. It’s not just that I can’t swim, it’s more this feeling I get whenever I’m near water that something terrible is going to happen.

  I lay in bed that night, trying to work out why I was so scared. It’s not as if anything bad had ever happened to me. Not around water anyway. We never went on holiday to the beach and Mum never took me for lessons, but I guess somewhere along the line she must’ve passed her own fear on to me.

  In Year Three the rest of my class drove off in a coach every Wednesday afternoon to the local swimming pool – but for some reason I was always excused. I don’t know how Mum persuaded them to let me stay behind. I just remember sitting in another class doing a load of boring worksheets while my friends trooped off together, thrilled to be escaping school for a couple of hours.

  It suddenly seemed very important to find out why Mum wouldn’t let me learn to swim. I’d never questioned it before, but if I’d gone to the lessons back then, I’d be able to swim in the lake with Rosa May and hang out at the pool with Mack – normal things that other people seemed to take for granted. What did Mum actually say to my teacher to convince her I should be allowed to miss swimming every week for a whole year? I decided to ask her in the morning, first thing. She might refuse to talk about the past, especially when it came to my dad, but surely this was something she could help me to understand.

  I fell into a deep sleep. In my dreams, I was away camping with my dad and we’d built the most
brilliant fire. It was blistering hot, sparks flying everywhere, the heat and smoke making my eyes sting. I was so happy I could’ve stayed there for ever – but at some point Dad went off to find more wood for the fire. I sat there all alone, the dark closing in on me. I waited for hours, until the fire had burned down to nothing – but he didn’t come back. It was as if the night had swallowed him whole.

  I woke to the sound of Mum pottering about in the kitchen. I got dressed as fast as I could, determined to ask her about the swimming lessons, but as I was coming downstairs she called out that she was leaving and I heard the door slam shut behind her. I stood in the middle of the kitchen, the silence rising up around me. It felt as if Mum and I were growing further and further apart. She was avoiding me, rushing out of the house, scared I might ask her about my dad.

  Something made me look towards the door – I don’t know what it was; a shadow, a flicker of movement in the hallway. “Hello?” My voice was high and breathless. “Hello? Is anyone there?” I said again, my heart hammering in my chest. I crept towards the door and flung it open. A bright yellow flyer fluttered down from the letter box to the floor. I could see from where I was standing that it was an advert for a local window cleaner.

  I almost laughed out loud. I must’ve looked so stupid, standing there in an empty room, talking to myself. The house was spooky but it wasn’t haunted. There were no evil spirits lurking about here for Mrs. Wilson to cast out, just a few cobwebs and dusty corners. Even so, I decided to give breakfast a miss and set off for the Butterfly Garden earlier than usual. I hadn’t seen Rosa May since Saturday and I couldn’t wait to tell her about my afternoon with Mack.

  She was on the bridge when I arrived. I could see her across the field, standing with her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. I jumped up and down, waving, and she flew off the bridge, charging towards me as if we hadn’t seen each other for years.

  “Where were you?” she cried. “I waited and waited.” She flung her arms around my neck, hugging me hard.

  I laughed, pleased to see her. “Not so tight, Rosa May! Hey, let go, I can’t breathe!” I prised her arms off me. “Come on, I’ve got loads to tell you.”

  We ran though the grass and over the bridge, settling down in our favourite shady spot. It was Monday morning and there was hardly anyone else around. I reached out for Rosa May’s hand, feeling almost relieved to be back at the Garden with her.

  “So, you’ll never guess what happened yesterday,” I said. But before I could finish, she snatched her hand away and sat up.

  “You’ll never guess what happened here yesterday,” she said. Her voice was tight. She paused for a minute, as if it was difficult to go on. “I’m almost certain I saw a Silver-studded Blue.”

  “No way!”

  “Yes way! It’s true. I was up on the bridge, waiting for you, when this blue and silver butterfly flew over my head. I followed it round and round, but every time I got close enough to check for sure, it flew on and it was impossible to tell.”

  “I can’t believe I missed it. Where did it go?”

  “I don’t know, over there somewhere.” She waved her hand behind her. “But that’s not the point, is it? The point is, if you’d been here we could’ve headed it off, one on each side. I needed you here. It was useless trying to do it alone.”

  “I’m sorry, Rosa May. I was planning to come but I got to sleep really late and then I slept in and then Mack came over...”

  “Mack?” A cloud passed across her face.

  “Yes, Mack, you know. The boy I thought I was meeting that first day I met you.”

  Her eyes were small, hard stones. “I know who you mean, Becky. I just can’t believe that you chose seeing him over seeing me.”

  “I didn’t choose him, silly. He just turned up out of the blue and offered to show me round Oakbridge. He’s really nice, and so cute you wouldn’t believe. You can come with us next time if you want.”

  “So you’re seeing him again. Like, for a proper date?”

  I laughed to lighten the mood. “I doubt it. It’s a nightmare. He asked me to go swimming at the leisure centre in Farnsbury with some of his mates, but I said no. Well, I said I’d think about it, but I have thought about it and I’m not going. You know how much I hate swimming.”

  I could’ve asked Rosa May to come with us, but imagine how stupid I’d feel when Mack saw what a brilliant swimmer she was – it would be worse than going on my own. Rosa May breathed out as if she was relieved.

  “I don’t think you should see him again anyway,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I bet he only came over because it’s the summer holidays and he was bored.”

  “No he didn’t. He’s really nice.” I was fed up of talking about it. I thought she’d be excited, ask me for all the details.

  We sat there in silence for a bit and then Rosa May threw her arm round me. “I wasn’t being mean, Becky, it’s just you know what boys are like.” She pulled me down in the grass suddenly, her eyes crossed, her arms and legs flailing out in every direction. “Stay away from me!” she moaned. “I’m part of a very dangerous species called Boy.”

  I started to laugh. It was impossible to stay cross with her for long. “What are you doing? You’re crazy!”

  “Beware of Boys!” she cried, rolling on top of me and pinning me down. Her hair fell forward, covering my face. “Beware of the evil species called Boy!” She let go of one hand and began to tickle me all over. I tried to push her off but she was too strong.

  “Stop!” I gasped. “Stop! I surrender! I give up!” I was laughing so hard I thought I was going to throw up. “Please, Rosa May, please, I can’t breathe!”

  “Promise then,” she said, holding my arms so tight it hurt. “Promise you’ll never choose him over me.”

  “Okay, I promise, just get off! It’s not funny any more! Get off me!”

  She rolled off and we lay back in the grass, panting. Her moods could flip so quickly it was scary. I stared up at the sky; it was dazzling blue, like Mum’s puzzle, except it went on for ever.

  “Do you want to see something amazing?” said Rosa May. “I spotted it early this morning while I was waiting for you and if we’re lucky we might still be in time.”

  She pulled me up and I followed her through the grass, back to the bridge. Sometimes I thought I’d follow her anywhere. “We need to crouch down here,” she said, stopping right by the edge of the water. She shuffled forward a bit, pulling me with her, but I shrank back, pressing my toes into the ground.

  “Not too close, I don’t want to slip.” I knew she’d think I was a wimp but I couldn’t help it.

  She edged closer herself and pointed to an area of grass to her left. “Look,” she whispered, “there, hanging on that twig near the ground. Can you see?”

  I shook my head, leaning forward as far as I dared, craning my neck.

  “Right there,” she hissed, pointing again...and suddenly I could see. It was a chrysalis, so transparent I could actually make out the butterfly folded up inside.

  “It’s ready to come out,” said Rosa May. “See how it’s pulsating like that? It means any minute now the chrysalis will split open.”

  I took a tiny step forward and eased myself down onto my tummy. Rosa May did the same, lying next to me.

  “It’s a Tiger,” she said, still whispering. “Bright orange and black to warn off predators.”

  We lay in the grass by the lake, watching the chrysalis. I held up my phone, ready to take photos. Nothing happened for a while and then very, very slowly the butterfly began to emerge. The head came first, its antennae uncurling in the morning sun. There was a pause after that, just for a few moments, and then suddenly, in a rush, the body appeared, thrusting itself out of the chrysalis almost in one go. It hung, suspended in mid-air, as its spindly legs tried to make contact with the end of the chrysalis.

  I grasped hold of Rosa May’s hand. “It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” I breathed. “A ne
w life starting right before our eyes.”

  The butterfly stretched out its wings. They looked impossibly fragile and I held my breath as a tiny breeze caught it by surprise.

  “Don’t worry,” said Rosa May. “Its wings are much stronger than they look – or they will be very soon.”

  We lay there together in the grass until the butterfly took its first feeble flight. It was like watching the greatest magic trick in the world; a grubby little caterpillar turning into a beautiful butterfly. I took some amazing shots, recording everything from the second the butterfly emerged from its chrysalis until its wings were strong enough for it to fly. I turned to take one of Rosa May, her eyes wide as she watched the flame-coloured butterfly flutter from flower to flower, but she leaped up suddenly, skipping off across the field.

  “Come on, Becky!” she cried, calling back to me. “Let’s follow it round, see where it goes next!”

  Later on, when I was walking home, I kept replaying the moment the butterfly burst out of the chrysalis, fully formed and ready to start its new life. Squashed in one minute, free the next. It gave me a funny feeling in my tummy, like I wanted to break free myself. I started to run down Amble Cross, my arms spread out like wings. I was soaring through the sky, over the marshmallow clouds, high above the fields – light as a feather and free. I flew all the way back to the green, collapsing in a sweaty heap in front of the Jacksons’ shop.

  “I don’t know where you get the energy, running in heat like this,” said Mr. Jackson. He was sitting out front in his string vest, the paper open on his lap.

  I laughed, still trying to catch my breath. “I’ve just seen a real butterfly emerging from its chrysalis,” I said, as if that explained everything. Mr. Jackson smiled and went back to his crossword.

  As I came up the lane to our cottage I saw Stella’s car parked outside. I wondered if she knew I’d spent yesterday afternoon with Mack and the thought gave me a funny feeling in my tummy all over again. I rushed up the path, pulling my key out of my bag. I was just about to let myself in when I heard Stella’s voice from inside. It was hard and angry.