The red welts on her arms blazed her fury.
When they had succeeded in drugging her, she was either delirious, or virtually catatonic. It was the latter that worried Lily the most: when her friend, who was usually so alive with something (even if it was just the misery of her existence) stopped speaking, and sat motionless in her bed, staring at the wall without seeing a thing.
Sometimes the nurses came in to check on her. They would fuss around her and tell her what a good girl she was being, how she’d be out soon if she just continued to behave herself, while Lily hid under the chair and held her breath until they’d gone.
One day they found her. ‘So this is where you’ve been running off to,’ one of the nurses said, clamping her hand firmly around Lily’s wrist and leading her back to her own room. ‘It won’t do either of you any good, you know. Esme needs to rest and you need to spend time with other people.’
She didn’t clarify who these other people might be, and, when they got back to Lily’s room, she left her there alone.
After that they kept a close eye on her. Escorted her to visit Esmeralda once a week, but always when she was asleep. Lily took to sneaking out of her room in the middle of the night. Esmeralda was usually awake in the night, and Lily would sit on the end of the bed and listen to her whispered confessions. Sometimes she would fall asleep there, curled up with Esmeralda’s arm draped sleepily over her, but she always woke up in her own bed.
One night she woke from a nightmare to find the whole house silent and dark. Aware of the monsters lurking under the bed, she leapt off the mattress, landing a good two feet away, clear of grasping claws. She ran the distance from her room to Esmeralda’s, shadows chasing her all the way. Burst into the room, shutting the door quickly but silently behind her. Pressed herself against the door, breathing heavily, until the danger had subsided. No monsters here.
Esmeralda was asleep, eyes shuttered by lids which glowed white in the moonlight. Lily took a step forward, and then stopped, registering the odd way in which she was positioned. On her back, arms spread wide. And stains on the sheets.
Blood blacker than the dark.
Lily turned and ran.
She didn’t know where the nurses slept, had no idea where she was heading, but she hurtled blindly in the direction of the common room and was relieved when she found a light still on, a glowing orb of safety in the thick black of the corridors. One of the nurses sat behind the desk, immersed in the flickering of the TV in front of her. She looked up as Lily approached.
‘What are you doing out of bed?’ she asked, her voice reproachful.
Lily gestured in the direction of Esmeralda’s room, breathless, hoping the panic in her face would be enough.
‘Did you have a nightmare, sweetie? It’s okay, you know. It’s not real.’
Lily shook her head, reached out and grabbed her hand, trying to pull her in the direction of Esmeralda’s room. The nurse wouldn’t budge.
‘You need to tell me what it is, Lily,’ she said. ‘I’m not playing guessing games at this time of night.’
Lily stamped her foot in frustration.
‘Okay, okay.’ The nurse stood up reluctantly. ‘Lead the way.’
She refused to quicken her pace, despite Lily pulling on her hand, and so they walked sedately back to the room, Lily’s insides screaming all the way. ‘You’re not supposed to have been here,’ the nurse said, when she realised where they were headed. ‘Didn’t we tell you to stay in bed?’
Lily glared at her, and pushed the door open.
Connie awoke the next morning with the sun in her eyes and the dawn chorus ringing in the trees outside. The curtains didn’t reach all the way to the corners of the windows, and shafts of bright light zigzagged their way across the room, illuminating the dust in the air and making Connie squint.
She hauled herself out of bed and got dressed as quietly as she could, aware that every movement caused the caravan to shake on its foundations. She went into the tiny bathroom and splashed her face with water, noting her reflection in the tiny mirror above the sink. She was paler than usual, and dark circles ringed her eyes like bruises. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail without brushing it, leaving a bunched collection of knots trapped with elastic.
She unlocked the front door and slipped out, not bothering to leave a note for her parents.
The sun, still not fully risen, was surprisingly warm. There was a chill in the shadows, though, and Connie was glad she had thought to bring a jacket. She paused briefly outside the front door, taking in the view that she had barely registered last night. A mountain, densely forested, rose directly behind her. Ahead, through the trees, she could see the steep drop of the ground falling away into valley. There were three other caravans in the clearing, only one of which had a car parked outside it. Connie moved on, not wanting to run into anyone if she could help it.
A wide gravel path veered off in one direction, leading back to the road they had driven in on. She walked the other way, plunging into the trees on a path which was just too narrow for a car to drive down. She was enclosed in darkness immediately, but she could see space ahead where the trees cleared and the sun had forced its way through.
She could hear nothing except for birds chattering in the trees and a distant rush of water. She was used to the quiet – Drayfield was hardly a hive of activity in the evenings – but she could usually hear the distant conversation of her neighbours in their gardens, or of people walking up the lane. Here there was no human noise at all. Her footsteps, crunching on the gravel, seemed loud and out of place.
The path took her through a clearing, where daisies pushed their way through the grass and birds hopped freely along the ground. Then she rounded a corner and found herself facing water.
The mountainside on her right had gradually opened out, becoming less densely wooded as she’d walked, and now it was open and rocky, sparsely littered with dry-looking bushes. Water darted over the rocks in a series of waterfalls, which opened out into shallow pools and finally spread across the path in a stream which was just too wide to leap across, though it was dotted with flat rocks that could easily be used as stepping stones. The pathway she was on continued upwards alongside the stream, becoming a series of steps as the mountainside got steeper, and she decided to follow the path and see how high it would take her.
As she climbed, she allowed herself to wonder what Lily was doing at that moment. It had been three months since she’d been sent to the institute, and Connie had only been allowed to visit her once. She had worked hard to pretend that she didn’t find the place disturbing; they’d sat in the common room and played wordless games, and Connie had tried not to pay any attention to the other children who watched them from every corner. One of Lily’s doctors had taken her into his office before they left and quizzed her about the night Billy died, but when Connie said she couldn’t remember he had left it at that.
More and more, in recent months, she had found herself consciously pushing Billy to the back of her thoughts, especially when other people were around. She was systematically forgetting their friendship. With Lily gone and her parents silent on the subject, she could almost pretend she’d imagined the entire thing.
Except for the others at school, taunting her with what they believed she’d done.
Connie climbed higher, her footsteps following the water back to its source, and tried to imagine what life would be like if Lily never came back. Would the accusations fade over time? Would everyone forget, if Lily no longer existed? Or would they blame her for that too?
And was it okay, to want to sacrifice an already-broken sister in exchange for a happier life?
She paused by a pool in the stream, taking a seat on a large, flat rock which had been baking in the early-morning sunshine. Connie was hungry now; she must have been walking for well over an hour. She wondered if her parents were up yet, if they’d be wondering where she was. She felt a savage pleasure at the possibility of them being anxiou
s about her.
She looked up the mountainside, considered climbing higher, then decided against it. If her parents were awake then they’d almost certainly be concerned about her. And besides, she was hungry.
She made her way back to the caravan.
Connie’s parents were frantic by the time she got back, and for a moment she was half-sorry and half-pleased; she couldn’t remember the last time they’d worried about her. Then they spoke, and she realised it wasn’t her they were worried about at all.
‘We have to go home,’ her father said as soon as she stepped through the door. ‘There’s a problem with Lily.’
He explained as they carried their things out to the car, Connie thinking it was just as well they hadn’t had time to unpack. ‘A messenger came down here about an hour ago, said he’d got a phone call for me from the institute. It seems one of Lily’s friends has hurt herself.’
There was something about the way he said this which implied she hadn’t fallen over in the playground.
‘Lily’s very upset. Her doctors think it’s inadvisable for her to stay where she is, for the moment. I’ve got to go and take her back to Grandma’s.’
Connie stared at him, disbelieving. ‘Why can’t you just bring her home?’
‘Well, we don’t think she’s ready for that yet.’
‘But that’s ridiculous! Being away isn’t helping her, is it? Has she even spoken one word since she’s been gone?’
‘Well, no, but –’
Connie threw the bag she was carrying on to the ground. ‘Do you think you can just send her away and bring her back when someone else has made her all better? What she needs is her family, not some random strangers.’
‘Her grandparents are her family,’ her father said quietly.
‘Yeah, but they’re not her parents, are they? They’re not you. They’re not me.’ Connie glared at him, eyes filling with furious tears. ‘Didn’t it ever occur to you that we were down there together that night? That maybe it would be better if we got through it together?’
‘Connie, please, we’re just trying –’
But Connie didn’t hear what they were just trying. She stomped over to the car, climbed into the back seat and jammed her Walkman’s headphones firmly in her ears. As they drove home, she could see her father turning round, trying to talk to her, but she stared stubbornly out of the window and didn’t hear a word he said.
now
Connie, as she had been then, first strains of womanhood pushing through childish limbs. Face-paint streaked across unblemished skin; careless clothing, which inadvertently revealed youth along with too much flesh. That sense of brash arrogance, combined with an awkwardness within her own skin. A smell of too many combined beauty products: moisturisers, shampoos, perfumes. And, underneath it all, the scent of someone who was well cared for: still a child.
She was standing on the banks of the river, in the village where she had grown up. Billy was in there somewhere, though she hadn’t seen him. There was the odd ripple, a shadow under the water. A presence that hung in the air. Expectation.
Dread.
She shifted, was awake; saw Nathan’s face in the moonlit glow of their bedroom. She felt feverish, unsure.
Back on the riverbank.
The water shifted, held out its arms to her. As if Billy stood there, inviting her to join him. The clouds above darkened, boiled in the sky, and behind her was nothing: empty space and no time at all.
She was on her knees and unable to move. The ground bit into her skin, gravel-like. She tried to push her hands forward, but all was mud and resistance, and she slid and fell, face-first. Something pushed down on her from above; she couldn’t move.
And still that feeling. Something above and something below. Nothing behind.
‘Okay?’
A murmur, reaching out to her from somewhere, but it was too far. She couldn’t push against the current – the tides – the whatever it was that was pushing her down –
‘Connie.’
It was Billy, she knew; Billy calling her home. She pushed forward, trying to reach him. Held out her hands, met nothing but air. She was too late, he was gone, and she couldn’t breathe, was being crushed, would die here, alone; and she deserved it, that was the worst thing of all –
With an effort, Nathan shook her awake. Her screams filled the house, woke the children; and even after Nathan had got them settled it was hours before she managed to get back to sleep.
‘Do you not think maybe you should stay home tonight?’
‘Because I had a bad dream?’ Connie’s eyebrows were raised in disbelief. ‘Perhaps I should also leave the nightlight on? And wait for you to tell me a bedtime story?’
‘There’s no need to be a bitch.’
‘I’m not. You’re being a patronising arse. I don’t need babysitting.’
‘You know full well I’m not trying to treat you like a child.
I’m just worried about you. That wasn’t a normal dream.’
‘No. It was a nightmare. Probably brought on by you stumbling in at, what, four in the morning?’
‘Three.’
‘Oh, much better. And where were you until three o’clock this morning? You told me the place shut at midnight.’
She was working hard on keeping her voice low; the boys were upstairs playing and she didn’t want to disturb them. Nathan had conveniently avoided any discussion about the time he’d come home by being worried about her, and then being at work. As a result, she’d spent most of the day quietly stewing about it.
‘I was with James. We went to a casino.’
‘Oh, fabulous. Gambling. An admirable pastime.’
‘I can’t speak to you when you’re like this. Forget what I said. Please do go out, and leave me in fucking peace.’
‘Oh, that’s right. Turn it round on me.’
‘I was just trying to show you some concern, Connie. Just worried about your mental health. You know? Because your sister’s driving you crazy and you’ve just lost your mother and you spend more and more of each passing day in bed, thinking I won’t notice as long as you get up in time to pick the boys up from school? Don’t make me out to be the bad guy here.’
‘If you were that worried, why were you out all night?’
‘Because I was having fun, and I was drunk, and I felt like it. It’s not as though you didn’t know where I was, and it’s not as though you weren’t invited to come along. You chose not to come with me.’
‘Because I was tired.’
‘No, because you were depressed. There’s a difference, you know.’
‘Oh, yes, I forgot. What the doctor says must be correct. I can’t just be tired and in a bad mood, like any other overworked mother. It has to be depression. Why does there always have to be a name for everything these days?’
‘Stop it. Stop this. You’re being ridiculous.’
‘Am I?’ Her voice was shaking, partly out of annoyance at having such a weak comeback. But she felt utterly defenceless. How was it that he could spend so much time creeping around, cat-like, absorbing details but never bothering to share them with her? And all the while she’d just assumed he wasn’t paying attention.
‘Look, I don’t want to fight with you.’ His voice was gentle, conciliatory. Because he knows he’s won, she thought, spitefully.
‘Don’t tell me what to do, then.’
‘Okay, okay.’ He held up his hands: surrender. ‘Do whatever you want. Go and discuss whatever it is that Richard wants to discuss. Have a lovely time.’ He leaned forward and kissed her, softly, on the cheek. ‘Please. Please have a lovely time.’
She nodded; touched the place where his lips had brushed her cheek; nodded again. And left.
Richard was already there when Connie arrived, ten minutes late and slightly flushed from the cold outside. She babbled apologies as she pulled off her coat and sat herself down opposite him, and Richard could see that her eyes were red and swollen, though he didn’t comment.<
br />
‘How are the kids?’ he asked, once she’d got herself settled.
‘Oh, fine, you know. Getting on okay at school. Tom’s boring us all senseless with stuff he’s learning about the environment. “Did you know, Mummy, that in 1987 an area of the Amazon rainforest the size of Britain was burned?” and so on.’ She smiled to herself. ‘I love the way kids assume they’re the first generation to have ever learned anything.’
‘Yeah, it’s great. They can teach you all the things you’ve spent the last thirty years forgetting.’
‘I’m not sure there’s enough room in my head for all that stuff any more.’ Connie poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table, then looked around for a waiter. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve ordered yet?’
‘I ordered wine. I felt it would be presumptuous to order food. Also, I wasn’t sure how long you’d be.’
‘Yeah, sorry about that. Nathan’s being a pain.’
‘Really? Why?’
Connie drank half of her water in one go. ‘Oh, I don’t know, really. He’s pretending he’s all worried about me because I’ve not been sleeping that well and so on, but then he went out last night and stayed out until three in the morning, so he couldn’t have been that worried, could he? It’s just irritating me.’
‘Nathan was out until three in the morning?’ Richard’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern.
‘It was a work thing.’ She laughed at his expression. ‘It’s fine, he invited me along but I don’t really like that sort of thing. I just wish – you know – I wish he’d be a bit more responsible, sometimes. Around the house, I mean. Obviously I know he’s responsible at work.’ She spat the word across the table with an expression of distaste.
‘He’s got a tough job.’
Hush Page 13
