Butterfly Summer

by Anne-Marie Conway

  She rolled her eyes, grinning. “Of course I’m not cross. I’m not in any great hurry to get back to work so you’ve done me a favour really.”

  We drove on for a bit in silence. I glanced at Stella. She was such a good friend to Mum and she’d been so lovely to me, but I knew at some point she’d have to go home to Mack. I wasn’t joking when I’d said to Pam yesterday that it had only ever been me and Mum. Having Stella around, singing and dancing, cooking proper meals and cleaning up afterwards, normal stuff like that, made me realize just how lonely my life with Mum could be.

  “I’ve been thinking about my dad,” I blurted out suddenly. My mouth was so dry that the words felt sticky, as if they were coated in glue. “Do you think he’d ever look after me, if Mum was too weak to manage, or if she had to stay in hospital for a long time? He’s a conservationist, you know,” I added.

  Stella smiled but she looked sad. “I know he is,” she said. “And I know your mum doesn’t like to talk about the old days, but he was a lovely man, your dad.”

  “Really?” I stared at Stella, amazed. “Do you mean that?” My eyes filled with tears. “I was sure he must’ve done something awful to Mum. Hurt her in some way, and that’s why she left him.”

  “Not your dad,” she said quietly. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He was the sort of man who would take an injured bird home in a box and nurse it back to health.”

  “That’s like me,” I whispered. “I love animals too.”

  Stella nodded. “I know, sweetheart. You’re just like him. In lots of ways.”

  I tried to take in what she was saying. I had so many questions, so much I wanted to ask her, but we’d arrived at the hospital.

  “Does he still live in Oakbridge?” I said quickly. “Do you know where he is? Do you ever see him?”

  “No, my love, he left the village a long time ago, but if you want to know anything else you’ll have to ask your mum; I’ve said far too much already.”

  Mum seemed so much better. She was sitting in a chair by her bed with a cup of tea, leafing through a magazine. Her eyes lit up as we came in and I rushed over to give her a hug.

  “You look great,” I said. “Have they told you when you can come home? Is your blood pressure down? You won’t believe how clean the kitchen is – it’s sparkling! But we haven’t touched the puzzle, have we, Stella? We left that for you.”

  Stella laughed. “Don’t bombard her, Becky. How are you, Trace? You gave us quite a scare.”

  “I’m feeling much better,” said Mum. “To tell you the truth, I don’t actually remember much about what happened, it’s all a blur. I know I’d finished the poppies and that I was just about to make a start on the field, and then the next thing I remember is waking up here, wired up to all these machines.”

  “Are you serious?” I said. “You mean, you don’t remember anything else?”

  “Not at the moment, but the doctor said it might come back.”

  I kneeled down by the chair, resting my head on her lap while she chatted to Stella. I hoped her mind would stay blurred for ever. I didn’t want her to remember a single word of what I’d said to her. The box was back under her bed and I was never going to mention it again. I was desperate to find out about my dad, especially after what Stella had said in the car, but I wasn’t going to ask Mum, not while she was so ill. Rosa May was right. Some secrets were better off left alone.

  We were only there for a bit when a nurse came bustling in and asked us to leave. I was sure they’d let her come home with us but they said they wanted to keep an eye on her for one more night, just in case. Mum got quite teary, clinging onto me and begging me not to leave her.

  “Come on, Tracy,” said Stella firmly. “You’re upsetting Becky. We’ll come and get you tomorrow. It’s only a few more hours.”

  I gave her one last hug and ran out of the room before I started crying myself. I still felt as if I was to blame, whatever Stella said.

  We went back up the next morning but it took ages to sort everything out. I started to wonder if they’d ever let her leave. She had to have her blood pressure checked again and then there were prescriptions to sort out and all these forms to sign.

  “She needs lots and lots of rest,” the doctor said, while Mum was in the other room with the nurse. “I’d like to see her back here at the beginning of next week, but any headaches and she’s to come straight back in.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m going to look after her. I’ll do all the shopping and cooking and keep the house clean. She won’t have to lift a finger.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do a splendid job,” he said, “but you’re very young to be caring for your mum. Are there any other family members who might be able to help out...?” He paused, looking over my head at Stella.

  “I’ll be stopping by every day,” she said quickly. “To look after Tracy and Becky. I’m as good as family, aren’t I, Becky?”

  I edged towards the door, nodding. “I’ll just go and find Mum now,” I said, anxious to leave. I didn’t want him to think we couldn’t manage.

  The doctor bent his head close to Stella’s. “I’ve also suggested to Tracy that she go to her GP and ask for some counselling and maybe some medication for depression,” I heard him say quietly. “She’s very low and I think it might be helpful for her to talk to someone.”

  A wave of frustration rolled over me. Mum might need to talk to someone but it was me she should be talking to, not a counsellor. I was so grateful to Stella for telling me about my dad, but I had even more questions now. If he was such a lovely, gentle man, why did he leave us? And why did Mum find it so difficult to talk about him? I couldn’t ask her, not after today. I only wish she felt able to tell me herself.

  I hardly left the house over the next few days. The furthest I went was down to the Jacksons’ to buy milk and other bits and pieces we needed. Mrs. Jackson had heard about Mum being in hospital and she’d been busy cooking. The first day I dropped by, she’d made us some scones with home-made jam, and there was a delicious apple pie about to come out of the oven.

  “I was baking anyway, what with the christening coming up, so a few more scones weren’t going to make any difference.” We were sitting in the kitchen behind the shop. It was small and hot and filled with the smell of buttery apples. The window sill was crammed with tomato plants and five jars of strawberry jam with pretty red and white checked cloths covering the lids.

  “We heard the ambulance arrive,” Mrs. Jackson went on, bending down to check on the pie. There was a sudden burst of heat as she opened the oven door and my eyes started to water. She peered at me anxiously. “You must’ve had an awful shock, Becky, seeing your mum like that. Are you sure you’re okay? I know how hard it is when Mr. Jackson’s poorly.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Really. Mum’s happy to be home and Stella’s been helping out loads.”

  Mum was happy to be home, to begin with. She made an effort to stay up the first evening, and we had a nice supper together. She even promised to come to Albert’s christening when Mrs. Jackson dropped the scones round. But by the next morning, her mood had plunged back down and it was a struggle to get her out of bed.

  She spent most of the following few days sleeping, and when she did manage to get up, the only thing she seemed interested in was the puzzle. She’d sit at the table for hours, holding one tiny piece in her hand and moving it from place to place, trying to work out where it should go. She said it helped to take her mind off things, but I began to wonder if maybe the doctor at the hospital was right and she did need to see a proper counsellor.

  Mack tried to get in touch a couple of times, but I couldn’t face talking to him or going for any more swimming lessons. I didn’t even go to the Butterfly Garden to see Rosa May. I was far too scared to leave Mum by herself. I knew Rosa May would be hurt; she wouldn’t understand. I could almost hear her voice in my head demanding to know where I was, but there was nothing I could do.

  The days dragged
by. It was hot and stuffy. I was tense, churned up, waiting for something to happen. It was like Mum was there but not there; I don’t think I’d ever felt so alone. At night, I sat in my airless room on my bed and wrote letters to my dad. I had no idea where he was or where I could send them, but I wrote them anyway. They were all slightly different, but the basic message was the same:

  Dear Dad, it’s me, Becky. I know you’re off somewhere fixing the world, but please could you come home for a while and help me to fix my mum...

  As the week went on, Mum seemed to shrink more and more inside herself. She was weighed down with sadness. I did everything I could to cheer her up, but it didn’t make the slightest difference. I’d chat away, making plans, trying to involve her, but she’d stare right past me as if I wasn’t there. I was just about to admit to Stella that I couldn’t cope on my own any more – that I needed help – when the day for Albert’s christening arrived.

  And that’s when everything changed for ever.

  We’d been living in Oakbridge for exactly five weeks on the day of Albert’s christening. I woke up early and lay in bed, thinking about Rosa May. I hadn’t seen her for days, but the longer we were apart, the more I could hear her calling for me, as if we were attached by some sort of invisible thread and she was drawing me back to the Butterfly Garden.

  It was already too warm in my room. I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. It helped, but only for a moment. They said the temperature was expected to reach over thirty-five degrees later on, the hottest day so far. Mum had promised she’d come to the christening when Mrs. Jackson dropped the scones round, but when I went in to wake her she wouldn’t budge.

  “I’ve got a splitting headache, Becky. It came on last night and it’s killing me.”

  “You’ll have to go back to the hospital if you’ve got a headache,” I warned. “You know what the doctor said.”

  Mum slid further down the bed, groaning. “Not the hospital, please. I’ll be fine in a bit. I just can’t face the christening, that’s all.”

  I didn’t like to push it, not after last time. It didn’t surprise me really. Mum’s never been keen to go to church. She says she lost her faith years ago – but it’s another one of those things she doesn’t like to talk about.

  The christening was due to start at eleven thirty, followed by lunch in the church hall. I had a shower and put on my nicest outfit: a dark purple sundress with matching purple pumps and the necklace Mum bought me that day she went shopping with Stella. There wasn’t much time, but I decided to slip down to the Butterfly Garden before I set off for the church. I couldn’t bear to let another day pass without seeing Rosa May.

  “What a pretty dress,” said Maggie, when I got to the Garden. “Are you off somewhere nice?”

  “I’m going to a christening. It’s for Mrs. Jackson’s grandson, Albert.”

  “Oh, how lovely,” said Maggie, clapping her hands together. “Well, you look a treat, you really do.”

  I smiled, thanking her, then ran straight through to the little shop and out into the Garden. Joan didn’t bother stamping my hand any more. I think she just assumed I’d be coming and added me to her list of visitors.

  It took me a while to find Rosa May. She wasn’t on the bridge or in the lake. I thought I saw a flash of blue just beyond the bridge, but when I got across to the other side there was no sign of her. I sat down for a minute to catch my breath. It was unbearably hot and I could feel my dress sticking to me like melted toffee. I was just about to give up and go when suddenly she was there, wrapping her arms round my neck, laughing in delight. Maybe she’d been watching me all along.

  “Finally!” she cried. “I’ve been waiting for ever!”

  I jumped up to give her a hug. “I know. I’m sorry. My mum’s been really ill. She’s back from the hospital but I was scared to leave her on her own.”

  “But what about me? I’ve been on my own too. It’s been awful. I’d almost given up hope.” She stepped back from me, looking me up and down. “Why are you wearing that lovely dress? Where are you going?” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not meeting that boy Mack, are you?”

  “No, of course not. I’m going to a christening. Hey, you don’t want to come with me, do you?” I said, excited suddenly. “I’m sure Mrs. Jackson wouldn’t mind. The invitation was for me and Mum but I couldn’t get her out of bed this morning, and we’d have so much fun if we went together.”

  Rosa May snorted. “What? Go to church on a beautiful day like this? You’ve got to be joking!” She grabbed my hands, hyped up and jumpy. “Don’t go either, Becky. You don’t have to, do you? Why don’t you stay here with me instead? They said it’s going to reach nearly thirty-eight degrees today and the hotter it is, the more likely we are to spot the Silver-studded Blue.”

  I shook my head, sighing. “I can’t. Mr. and Mrs. Jackson will be upset enough that Mum’s not going.”

  Rosa May pushed me away suddenly. “Why did you bother coming here then?” she snapped. “You keep doing that. You turn up and then you leave straight away. Don’t you want to be my friend any more, Becky? Is that it? Is that why I haven’t seen you for days?”

  “Don’t say that! Of course not. I told you, it’s my mum. I couldn’t come because of my mum.”

  “But you’re not worried about leaving her today, are you?” she sneered. “You’re quite happy to go off to this christening or whatever it is. Don’t you think you’d better stay at home if you’re that concerned about her? I’m so sick of your stupid excuses!”

  I wanted to explain, to put my point across, but I felt dizzy again, as if my head was filled with fluff. Every time I saw Rosa May lately, we ended up arguing. I didn’t have the strength to fight with her any more.

  “I am worried about my mum, but I didn’t want to upset Mrs. Jackson. And I’m here, aren’t I?” She didn’t say anything. She was watching me. Waiting. “Look, I’ll come tomorrow, first thing, and I’ll stay all day. I promise.”

  “Cross your heart and hope to die?” she demanded, her eyes glittering. I’d never seen her this angry. It was like she couldn’t bear it unless she had me all to herself.

  I backed away, nodding. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  The church was packed. Mr. and Mrs. Jackson were standing at the doors, greeting people and guiding them to their seats. Mrs. Jackson looked lovely. She was wearing a pale pink dress with a matching hat, and she’d got Mr. Jackson into a suit.

  “She’s forced me to wear a tie,” he said, winking at me. “In this heat! I’ll be slipping it off as soon as the service starts.”

  “No you will not!” said Mrs. Jackson, wagging her finger at him. “Where’s your mum, Becky? Couldn’t she make it?”

  “She’s got a headache,” I said. “She’s really sorry.”

  “Not to worry. Pop yourself over there by Stella and Mack.”

  I looked across to where she was pointing. Stella was all glammed up in a bright multicoloured dress and a hat with a massive feather, but my eyes were drawn to Mack. I’d only ever seen him in shorts and a T-shirt, or in his swimming gear, but today he was wearing smart grey trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His arms were strong and tanned and the thought of him holding me in the pool made my face burn up. He turned round suddenly as if he could sense me watching, and waved me over.

  “You look nice,” he said, shifting up to make room. “Purple really suits you.”

  Stella laughed. “What a charmer! I don’t know where he gets it from! How are you, Becky? How’s Mum this morning?”

  “Not so great,” I said, tearing my eyes away from Mack. “She’s got a headache again but she didn’t want me to call the hospital. I think she might need to talk to someone.” I looked down at my hands. “You know, someone, erm...professional.”

  Stella took hold of my hands and squeezed them. “Don’t worry, my love. She’s got her follow-up appointment tomorrow afternoon. I’ll take her up there and speak to the
doctor myself. We’ll soon get her sorted.”

  I wanted to ask her how we were going to do that – how we were ever going to get her sorted – but just at that moment Father Hill appeared at the front of the church and everyone stopped talking. The christening only lasted for about half an hour. There were some prayers and some singing and then Albert’s mum and dad brought him up to the front. He was wearing this frilly white dress and Father Hill poured water on his head, blessing him in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Albert cried a bit and so did Mrs. Jackson, but you could tell she was chuffed to bits.

  I liked Father Hill straight away. He was quite old, and even though he’d probably done a million christenings before, he put so much feeling into the service. He had this big, booming voice that echoed around the church, but there was something gentle about him, especially the way he was with Albert.

  “He seems nice,” I whispered to Stella. “Really kind. Maybe he could talk to Mum?”

  Stella shook her head. “I think we’d be better off discussing it with the doctor. Especially if she’s still getting headaches.”

  When the service was over we all trooped next door to the church hall for sandwiches, cake and tea. Father Hill was standing with Mrs. Wilson, greeting people as they came in. I wanted to talk to him, but not with Mrs. Wilson there. I only wanted to say that I’d enjoyed the service and that I might try to come the following Sunday, but she was giving me the evils again; staring at me as if I had three heads. I remembered what Mack said about her performing exorcisms and I shrank back, wondering why she always looked at me like that.

  “Let’s get some cake,” said Mack, steering me away from Mrs. Wilson and towards the food. “Mrs. Jackson easily bakes the best scones in Oakbridge.”

  “I know, she brought some round this week.”

  We helped ourselves to scones and cake and found somewhere to sit. Neither of us said anything for a bit. It was the first time I’d seen him since that day at the pool and I could feel it hanging between us, making things awkward. I was dying for him to crack a joke, go back to the way he was before, but he was fidgety and restless.