Butterfly Summer

by Anne-Marie Conway

  More arms. Hauling me up. Rolling me over. Light. Cold. Air.

  I gasped, desperate for air. Big breaths. Deep, gulping breaths.

  “Oh, Becky!” Mum was lying over me, sobbing. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Mum?” My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “Mum, I’m so cold.” My mouth filled up with water and I leaned over, coughing.

  “Becky! Oh thank god! I thought I’d lost you. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t live with myself. Not again.”

  I clung on to her, still coughing. She was cold as well, shivering. Did she come in the water? Did she save me? There were other people, crowded round, leaning over.

  “It’s okay,” said Mum. “Thank you for your help, but we’re okay now.”

  She pulled me tight, rocking me against her as the faces melted away.

  My body felt heavy, weighed down. I tried to take a deep breath, but I didn’t have the strength. We sat there, rocking, both of us too shocked to speak.

  “What were you doing, Becky?” Mum said in the end. “What were you thinking?”

  “It was Rosa May, Mum,” I croaked, my voice still hoarse. “She wanted me to come in the water. She’s been begging me to swim with her all summer, practically every day, but I was too scared. I’ve had a few lessons with Mack but I didn’t dare swim with Rosa May. She was wild, Mum. She would dive into the lake and stay under for ages. I hated it.” I struggled to sit up, terrified suddenly. “Where is she now? Is she still in the lake?”

  “No, Becky,” Mum sobbed. “Please. There’s no Rosa May. Rosa May died a long time ago.”

  “I don’t understand it either, Mum, but she’s in there, I swear. I know she’s dead, I get it, but she’s still in the lake. How long was I in the water? Two minutes? Three? Any second now, you’ll see.” I scanned the surface. It was completely still, but I knew her tricks.

  “I’m serious, Mum.” I didn’t know how to make her believe me. “She dragged me in. You must’ve seen her. We’ve been together all summer, hanging out here, searching for the Silver-studded Blue. She told me about the ancient myth, that if you’re the first to spot a Silver-studded Blue then the person you love the most is on their way to see you, but if it lands on your shoulder then that person has come to say goodbye for ever...”

  “Stop it, Becky! You’re rambling...”

  “No I’m not, it’s all true. We were so close, but she didn’t want me to be friends with Mack. She was jealous. She wanted me all to herself.” I tried to get up, thrashing against Mum, frantic, but she pulled me back down. “Let go of me. Let go! We’ve got to find her!”

  “No, Becky!” Mum tightened her arms around me so that I couldn’t move. “An ambulance is on its way. You’ve got to rest. Rosa May is not in the water. She died a long, long time ago. She’s not here. You’re safe.”

  I shook my head, still straining to see the lake. She was wrong. I could feel Rosa May watching, waiting. “But I don’t understand,” I said. “I don’t understand anything.”

  Mum stroked my hair. “It’s all my fault, I should’ve told you the truth right from the start. I made a terrible mistake. Your dad wanted me to tell you, so did Stella – they said you had a right to know, that it was the right thing to do – but I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. I kept everything to show you, all the clippings and photos, but every time I tried to form the words, my head would start throbbing. I wanted to tell you, but I just couldn’t.”

  “Tell me now,” I said weakly. “Tell me everything. But please, Mum, you must believe me. She is here.”

  I leaned into her, safe for the minute, and she began to talk.

  “Rosa May was always larger than life,” Mum started. “She was so different from your dad and me, we used to joke that they must’ve got her mixed up at the hospital, given us the wrong baby. She was bright and beautiful, perfect really, but she was in such a hurry to grow up. She wanted to run before she could walk. We struggled to keep up, to be honest. We were very young – I was only eighteen when I had her – but even so, she was always one step ahead of us and it was exhausting at times.

  “She was brilliant at everything she did, but swimming was her passion. She was swimming by the age of two, you know. Your dad called her Fish. She swam for her school and for the county. They even said she might swim in the Olympics one day.

  “We were so proud of her, Becky, she was doing so well, but then we found out we were expecting you. Rosa May was almost twelve by then, in her first year of secondary school and we thought she’d be thrilled. She’d been begging us for a sister for years, but we’d always joked that having her was like having a houseful of children already! We couldn’t wait to tell her – a sister at last – but she didn’t take it well at all. She was horribly jealous, convinced that we’d love the baby more than her. That we wouldn’t have enough love to share round.”

  She stopped for a moment, hugging me close. I could sense Rosa May listening. Taking in every word. I couldn’t see her but I knew she was there.

  “She started to act out,” Mum went on. “Picking fights with us, pushing the boundaries, staying out late without telling us where she was. She’d always been so driven, so determined to do well, but she began to miss her training. She said she couldn’t be bothered any more. Your dad really struggled with that. They’d always been so close and he was so proud of her. He couldn’t understand where his lovely little girl had gone. It broke his heart.”

  “She told me how close they were,” I said, looking up at Mum. “She said they had a special connection.”

  Mum took a deep, shaky breath and carried on as if I hadn’t spoken.

  “Things got worse as the pregnancy went on. Perhaps we’d spoiled her, being an only child for so long. Or maybe it was just one change too many, after just starting secondary school and everything...I don’t know. I’ve tried to analyze it so many times, to understand why she found it so difficult to accept. She began to stay out for hours on end. She’d be down here by the lake, hanging out on her own. There was no Butterfly Garden back then, just some fields with the lake in the middle.

  “That day, the day of the accident, she was supposed to be competing in a swimming gala. We’d planned to take her, cheer her on, but the doctor was worried about me. My blood pressure was high. He said he wanted me to go to the hospital for some tests and a scan and he scheduled it for that day. Stella offered to go and watch Rosa May instead, but she went mad. She said she didn’t want Stella, that we were putting the new baby first already. There was an almighty row and she stormed out.

  “Your dad refused to go after her. He said he was tired of all the arguments. Worn out. But I came down here, to the fields, to see if I could talk her round. When she saw me, she started to play up even more, showing off, teasing me about how pathetic it was that I couldn’t swim.

  “‘Come and get me,’ she kept taunting, and then she’d dive in the lake and stay under until I was frantic with worry. When she came up, she’d laugh as if it was the biggest joke. I begged her to come out of the water, to come home. I promised we’d change the hospital appointment, go for the scan the next day, that she could come with us, see her new baby sister. And finally she calmed down. She climbed out of the lake and we started to walk back, holding hands. I remember squeezing her hand – she squeezed mine back and I really thought at that moment that everything was going to be okay. She was going through a tough time, a bad patch, that was all. But then she turned round.

  “‘One more dive!’ she shouted, running back towards the lake. I’ll never forget the sight of her tearing through the grass, her beautiful hair flying out behind her. I’ve been haunted by that moment for the past twelve years. It was the last time I saw her alive. She dived into the water, half twisting round to make sure I was watching. It put her off her stride, she went in at an awkward angle. She must’ve hit her head on a rock. It all happened so fast.

  “I didn’t realize at first. I thought she was up to her usual
antics, staying under to give me a fright. I waited and waited. It felt like hours...and then it dawned on me that something was wrong. That she wasn’t coming up. I was all alone, Becky, I didn’t know what to do. I ran down to the edge of the lake and lowered myself into the water. It was so cold, colder than anything I’d ever experienced. I tried to move towards her but my feet got tangled in the weeds. They were everywhere, snaking round my legs, dragging me down. I could feel myself sinking. I tried to steady myself, pull my feet free, but I was so huge and heavy it was impossible.

  “Everything went dark for a moment. I was fighting for breath. I could see where she was but I couldn’t reach her. Too much time was passing. It was a nightmare. I called out to her, told her to hang on, that everything was going to be okay, but she wasn’t moving. She was too still. I screamed at her to move – I knew I was losing her. I screamed and screamed. That’s the last thing I remember before I lost consciousness.

  “I woke up in hospital. They told me a man had been out walking his dog, near to the lake. He didn’t actually see Rosa May dive in, but he heard me screaming. He was very strong; a confident swimmer. He managed to haul me out, but by the time he got to Rosa May, by the time more help arrived – the ambulance and paramedics – it was too late.”

  Her voice broke and she hugged me tighter, rocking me back and forth.

  “Poor Rosa May,” I said, shuddering. “All alone in the water. She must’ve been so cold.”

  “At first we each blamed ourselves,” said Mum. “Your dad thought it was his fault for not following her after the row, but I knew it was mine for not saving her when I had the chance. I replayed those moments in the water over and over, as if they were stuck in my brain on some awful loop. We tore ourselves apart. It was like all the lights had gone out. You were the only thing that kept us going, Becky, the thought of a new life.

  “You came two weeks after the funeral; the midwife said it was the stress. You came so fast there was no time to get your dad. He was down here by the lake. He spent every day here; sometimes he even slept here, all night, by the lake. He tried to come to terms with what had happened but he couldn’t. He went a bit mad, to tell you the truth. Mad with grief. He started to blame me. He said I’d put our unborn baby before Rosa May.”

  I twisted round to look at Mum. “But that’s what Rosa May said on the bridge. She said you chose me over her. She hates me, you know.”

  Mum cupped her hands around my face. “Please, Becky. I want you to listen to what I’m saying. There is no Rosa May – not any more. It’s been a difficult time for you. Moving to Oakbridge, spending so much time alone, all these weeks with nothing to do – it’s unsettled you. It’s my fault. I should’ve noticed things weren’t right but I’ve been so wrapped up in my own grief and misery. Being back here must’ve triggered off some old memories in you – things you overheard us say when you were a little girl, before your dad left.”

  “So is that what happened?” I asked, desperately trying to follow Mum’s story. “Is that when my dad left?”

  “He couldn’t cope, Becky. He loved you, but it was difficult for him to be with you. It wasn’t your fault. It was just too much – a new baby when he’d just lost his precious Rosa May. He set up a fund in her memory. He wanted to build a memorial, but the idea grew into this place, the Butterfly Garden. He organized it all himself. He was so immersed in it, he didn’t have time for us. There was this rock – the butterflies loved it because the stone was so warm. He said it was the only place he felt close to her. The only place he wanted to be.”

  “Butterfly Rock,” I murmured.

  “Yes, that’s right. Butterfly Rock; or ‘Rosa May’s Rock’, as he began to call it. I couldn’t come to the Garden myself – it was too painful – but he couldn’t stay away. We argued night and day. I wanted him to spend more time with me, more time with us, but when I asked him, he would stare right through me as if I wasn’t there.

  “He did try to take you swimming a few times, at the leisure centre, but you hated it. He forced you to go in but you’d scream blue murder. He didn’t understand. He wanted you to be like Rosa May. One day I heard him calling you his ‘little Rosa May’, and that’s when it all blew up. We had the most terrible row and he said he couldn’t carry on, that he was going away. He went travelling, all the way to Australia. His family were already living there – his parents and his sister – so that’s where he stayed.”

  There was a huge lump in my throat; it was totally clogged up. No wonder the pool felt so familiar... But the thought of Dad wishing I was Rosa May, it was just so sad.

  “What about us?” I said. “When did we leave Oakbridge?”

  “Not long after that. You were about two-and-a-half. I needed a fresh start. I couldn’t cope with all the memories and everyone knowing. You know what it’s like around here. I knew what people were thinking – how could a mother let her own child drown? But I swear to you, Becky, I did everything I could to save her. And I kept meaning to tell you, but the more time went by, the harder it became. I wanted to protect you from the past. I didn’t want you to feel as if you were growing up in Rosa May’s shadow – or to blame yourself for what happened.”

  “Is that where he is then?” I whispered. “My dad? In Australia?”

  Mum took a deep, shaky breath. “That’s where he was until a few months ago, but he’s on his way home, Becky. He wrote to me shortly before we moved, to say he was planning to come back to Oakbridge and that he wanted to see you. That’s why I came back. I wanted to give you both a chance to get to know each other properly. I had this idea that if we were living here too, then perhaps we could be a family again. I thought enough time had passed, that I was strong enough to face up to what happened, but I’ve found it so painful.”

  My mouth dropped open. My dad was on his way home to see me.

  “I can hear the ambulance,” said Mum, twisting round to look over her shoulder. “They’ll need to check you over. You’ve had a terrible shock.”

  Two men came running across the field, carrying a big bag. They told me their names were Nathan and Danny. They wrapped me in a blanket and asked me loads of questions, but it was impossible to concentrate. I didn’t need to spot the Silver-studded Blue after all. My dad was coming home.

  “They want us to go down to the hospital,” said Mum, helping me to my feet. “Just to make sure your lungs are okay, that you didn’t take in too much water.”

  I shook her arm off. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to find Rosa May first.” Mum opened her mouth but she didn’t say anything. “I mean it, Mum. I’m not leaving until I’ve said goodbye.”

  I sensed she was there before I turned round. She was on the bridge, watching us. She looked different. Faded. As if the lake had finally drained the life out of her. I wasn’t scared any more. I knew she couldn’t hurt me. I understood. She’d never meant to hurt me in the first place; she was just lonely and angry. Angry that her life had been cut so short.

  “I’m here, Rosa May,” I said, shrugging off the blanket, running onto the bridge. Running towards my big sister. I put my arms around her and pulled her close, stroking her hair. I thought of the photo, of Rosa May as a newborn baby wrapped in that pink blanket, and I pulled her even closer.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t find the Silver-studded Blue,” she whispered.

  “It doesn’t matter. We found each other instead.”

  “I love you, Becky. I never meant to frighten you. I just wanted you to stay with me. I’ve been so lonely.”

  “I love you too. I’ll always love you. So does Mum. She never stopped loving you, not for one second.”

  “I know,” she wept, silent tears coursing down her face. “I heard her.”

  We stood on the bridge, clinging onto each other for the last time. She felt light, as if the air could pass right through her. She was disappearing, slipping away.

  Mum took a step towards me. “Come on, Becky, the ambulance is waiting,” she called.

>   “I’ve got to go,” I said, holding her even tighter.

  She laced her fingers through mine so that it was impossible to see where her hands started and mine ended. “Thank you, Becky. Thank you for this summer, for helping me. I’ll never forget you.”

  “I’ll never forget you either, Rosa May.”

  Mum came up behind me then. She put her hand on my shoulder and led me down off the bridge. I looked back but Rosa May was gone. There was a small splash and then a ripple. It spread right across the lake.

  “Bye-bye, Fish,” I whispered. “I love you.”

  Once Mum started talking, she didn’t stop, like a switch had been flipped. She talked all the way to the hospital and all the way back, and the more she talked, the more animated she became. She’d spent the last ten years keeping everything locked up inside – she said it was the only way she could cope with the pain. But as she told the story of those awful years, it was as if she was slowly coming back to life.

  They kept us at the hospital for ages. They were worried that Mum wasn’t well enough to look after me; they said they were concerned for my welfare. Pam was there and she wanted to know how I’d ended up in the water in the first place when I couldn’t swim. I didn’t tell them about Rosa May. I didn’t say much at all; I left all the talking to Mum, and she somehow managed to convince them that we’d be okay.

  “I know I’ve let you down,” she said on the way home. “Keeping Rosa May secret, hiding everything from you – it was the worst thing I could’ve done.”

  “You didn’t know,” I said. “You were only trying to do what you thought was best at the time. But there is one thing I don’t understand. Didn’t I ask you about my dad after he left? Didn’t I wonder where he was?”

  Mum sighed. “Of course you did. You asked every day for a while – it broke my heart. But then we moved ourselves, and you started nursery, made new friends, and it was as if you’d left him behind. You stopped asking where he was and when he was coming back, and then one day I heard you tell one of your friends that you’d never met your daddy. Explaining that you had met him, but that he’d left you, just felt too cruel. I know it was wrong now, so wrong, but it seemed the kindest way at the time.”