‘Yeah, I know. It doesn’t exempt you from responsibility in all other areas of life, though, does it?’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, enough about me. How’s Lily? Have you told her about losing your job yet?’
‘Um. I haven’t had the chance, actually.’ Richard explained briefly about Lily being given a sabbatical. ‘I really think it’ll do her good, you know? She obviously needs to take a break from it all, and she’s just blocking everything out and getting on with work instead.’
Connie looked sceptical. ‘Thing is, Richard, Lily’s never been particularly good at dealing with things. She just shuts down and carries on as if nothing’s happened.’
‘I realise that. But maybe this will be her chance to sort herself out a bit.’
‘Right. And what do you propose? Are you going to start counselling her, now that you’ve both got some spare time?’
‘Oh, come on, Connie, I’m being serious.’
‘Sorry.’ She was contrite. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Well –’ The waiter appeared at his side, and he stopped talking abruptly. They both sat in silence as the waiter poured the wine.
‘Can I take your orders?’
They ordered the same food they ate every time, and the waiter departed, wending his way through the tables towards the kitchen. Connie watched his progress, sipping her wine and barely tasting it.
‘So I thought we might move into your mother’s house,’ Richard said, his voice rushed and nervous.
Connie stared at him blankly. ‘You – what?’
‘I know it sounds crazy, but I think we both need a break. I think some new surroundings – and for Lily some familiar ones – might be just what we need. And also,’ he continued quickly, before she could say anything, ‘now that I’ve lost my job we’re going to need some extra money, and, seeing as the house is just sitting there at the moment, we could live there rent-free and let out the flat.’ He paused, looking at her closely, trying to read her expression. ‘If you don’t mind,’ he prompted.
‘Um, I – sorry, I’m just really surprised.’ She smiled faintly. ‘I don’t mind at all, but have you spoken to Lily? That house, it – it’s got a lot of history for us, you know?’
‘I know there’s a lot of history with your parents – your dad dying and your mum being, well, the way she was – but I thought maybe if Lily was back there she could confront some of it. It’s like the doctor said,’ Richard said, his voice speeding up again. ‘She’s got these physical symptoms because she’s not dealing with the emotional trauma, and if she goes back there then she’ll have to deal with it all and then – she might – well…’ He stopped, feeling foolish.
‘Get better?’ Connie suggested, raising one eyebrow.
‘Yeah. I suppose. It’s not so far-fetched, is it?’
Connie shrugged. ‘No, I suppose not. Has she ever spoken to you about that house? Or… er, our parents, or – anything?’
‘Not really.’ Richard took a long sip of his wine. ‘I know she was really close to your dad. And I know your mum was institutionalised and – well, you know – the depression. But she doesn’t really talk about your childhood.’
Connie nodded. ‘You know about her not speaking, though? I mean, really not speaking?’
‘Yeah, of course. She said about you guys being bullied, and – well, I’m not stupid, Connie. I know there are things she isn’t telling me and I know you guys had a difficult childhood, but I really think she might get past it better if she faces it. Don’t you agree?’
Connie looked at him. He looked so earnest and so hopeful, staring up at her as if she had all the answers, and she wondered how her sister had managed to find this man who wanted nothing more than to make her happy.
It didn’t matter how she’d found him, of course. It mattered that he was there.
‘I don’t know,’ she said finally. ‘But I think it’s worth a go.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. Anything’s worth a go, really, isn’t it?’ She grinned, and raised her glass in a toast. ‘To confronting the past,’ she said, and their glasses met across the table with a gentle clink.
Lily was in a field. It was dark – no, not dark: twilight. Dark enough that she couldn’t help but stumble over things in her path. Light enough that she could see the horizon, blurry blue-black. There was a silvery light in the air, which was not light, but an absence of dark.
She couldn’t see the ends of the earth, but she could feel them, on all sides.
Creatures whispered through the grass at her feet, brushed her bare toes, making her tense. She would not scream.
She could feel the presence in the air, the someonethere, though who it was she couldn’t be sure.
She took two steps forward, and fell through the earth.
The fall wasn’t a long one, but she felt all the breath leave her body as she plunged downwards. Adrenaline shot to her extremities, a tingling so pervasive it was painful. She landed in a cavern, fully dark, underground, underworld. The floor was dirt, the hole she’d fallen through just large enough that she could make out walls.
And that sense, still. Someonethere.
She held out her hands. Scrabbled in the dirt for a way out. Panic setting in as she realised the hole was too high for her to reach, and there were no doorways in the walls; and even if there had been they would have led further into the earth; no way out: she was trapped, and struggling to breathe through dirt-clogged airways.
Think. Calm. Must be some way out. Something.
The walls were briefly illuminated, perhaps by lightning, and the panic intensified. Words all over the walls. Silvery scrawls.
get out get out get out getoutgetoutgetout
Esmeralda’s body on the ground, two feet away, the same silvery scrawls covering her arms. Her blood, of course.
And her face, half-eaten by maggots. But still she was smiling.
And the approach, from behind, of something as yet unseen.
Finally, Lily allowed herself to scream.
She was awake by the time Richard got to her; breathing heavily, but starting to calm down. The bedroom was dark, the green flashing numbers on the alarm clock casting an odd, uneven glow across her face. She’d been crying in her sleep.
‘What was it?’
She shook her head. He sat down next to her, put his arms around her, felt her heart pounding next to his steady pulse. Her breath, short sharp gasps, warm on his neck. She breathed deeper, steadied herself.
‘It was just a dream,’ he said, quietly. She nodded into his neck.
‘Where were you?’ she asked, pulling back, lying back down.
‘I needed to talk to Connie about something.’ She looked at him, questioningly, but didn’t say anything. ‘And now I need to talk to you about something. But I think it can wait until the morning, don’t you?’
She nodded. Too tired to be curious. Already slipping back into unconsciousness.
He lay down beside her, fully dressed, and held her close as she fell asleep. Thinking, if he held her tight enough, if he cared enough, then maybe he could take control of her dreams. Force them down the right path, soothe her splintered unconscious, and give her a restful night.
then
In the end, Marcus went on his own to pick Lily up from the institute, dropping Connie and Anna at home on the way. It was mid-afternoon by the time he arrived, and Lily was waiting for him on the front steps, her bag packed, a nurse keeping watch from the doorway.
Lily stood up when the car pulled up in front of her, but she didn’t step forward until Marcus got out of the car.
‘Hey, stranger. How long have you been sitting there?’
Lily just stared at him. It was the nurse who answered, her voice flat and businesslike. ‘It’s been a couple of hours. Once she was packed she wouldn’t go back inside.’
‘I’m so sorry. I got here as quick as I could, but we were on holiday –’
‘Yes, I heard.’ Dismissive. ‘Would you
mind coming inside? There’s some paperwork to sign. Won’t take long.’
‘Sure.’ He crouched down next to Lily. ‘Do you want to wait in the car? I won’t be a minute.’
She nodded, and he opened the back door for her, letting her scramble on to the seat before closing and locking it behind her.
The inside of the building was cool and airy, and there was no one around. Marcus’s footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. The nurse was waiting for him, perched at the reception desk, a pile of paper in front of her.
‘If you could just sign here,’ she said, pushing a pen into his hand.
‘Would you mind giving me a bit more detail? About what happened?’ He scanned what he was reading as he signed, only half-concentrating.
‘It was as I said on the phone. Lily’s friend attempted suicide. Lily was the one who found her. She was – very shaken up, understandably.’
‘Don’t you have people watching out for that kind of thing? Why was the girl not being watched?’
‘There’ll be an investigation,’ the nurse said smoothly.
‘Right.’ Marcus handed her back the pen. ‘Well, I wouldn’t mind knowing the outcome of the investigation. If it’s not too much trouble.’
‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’
‘And I’ll be ringing Dr Hadley next week to discuss Lily’s requirements going forward.’
‘I’ll let him know.’
Her voice was textureless, her face bland to a fault. He watched her for a moment, to see if her expression would flicker, but she remained frozen in place. He spun on his heel and went back out to the car.
Lily was sitting in the chair behind the driver’s seat, facing straight forward, her seatbelt done up. Her rucksack was on the seat next to her. She didn’t move when he got in.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting for so long,’ Marcus said. He turned in his chair to face her, but she didn’t meet his eye. ‘It must have been a long day.’
Nothing.
He turned back to face the windscreen, and turned the key in the ignition.
‘I’m going to take you back to Grandma and Grandpa, as it’s closer,’ he said. The roaring of the engine half-obscured his words, but he wasn’t sure she was listening anyway. ‘And then tomorrow we’re going to make a decision about what to do next. Okay?’
He looked at her in the mirror, but she was still staring straight ahead, her face motionless.
He talked to himself as he eased the car out of the driveway. He wasn’t sure if she was listening or not, but he found it comforting, hearing the sound of his own voice. After a while he realised she was asleep; her eyes were closed, head tilted to one side, mouth drooping slightly.
He smiled, and continued talking to himself for the rest of the journey.
‘What does Anna say about it all?’
Marcus sat at the dining table, his parents seated opposite him like an interview panel. Lily was upstairs; she’d gone straight up to her room when they’d got home, closing the door behind her. He’d considered going in anyway, exercising his rights as a parent. But in the end he decided she deserved some time to herself, and retreated back down the stairs to where his parents waited for him, carefully non-accusatory.
‘She says nothing, most of the time,’ Marcus admitted, running his fingers through his hair until it stood on end, sticking out at odd angles from his face. ‘She acts as though she feels I’ve made all these decisions without her, so I might as well carry on making them.’
‘Does she want Lily to come home?’
‘Who knows? She’s barely at home herself.’ He stopped, realising he was being unfair. ‘That’s not true, actually. She’s been a bit better the last couple of months. But she spends most of her time in the garden. Barely speaks to me, or to Connie.’
‘Where was she before? If she wasn’t at home?’ His mother’s voice was careful, but Marcus knew what she was asking.
‘I could hazard a guess,’ he said. ‘But I’d rather not go there.’
‘Fair enough. Well, the way I see it, you’ve got two options.’
‘Which are?’
His mother was all practicality. ‘Leave her here, or take her home.’
‘I can’t keep leaving her here with you,’ Marcus said, his voice tired. ‘I feel like I’m failing her as a parent. Connie said something to me today, about shipping her off and expecting someone else to make her all better. And you know what – she’s right, isn’t she? That’s exactly what I’m doing. Waiting until she’s fixed before bringing her home.’
‘Son, you’re being too hard on yourself.’ His father’s voice was stern, commanding. ‘Keeping the balance in a family is always hard. And, after everything your family has been through, it was the right thing to do: giving Lily some space, taking her away from that house.’
‘I want to move,’ Marcus admitted. ‘But I don’t think Anna will agree.’
‘Why not?’
He didn’t reply, and his parents didn’t push it.
‘Do you think Lily would be able to cope with going home?’ his mother asked, her voice gentle.
‘How should I know? She’s not likely to give me a straight answer, is she?’
‘She might. When was the last time you tried asking her?’
Half an hour later he climbed the stairs to Lily’s room, which had once been his room. He knocked gently, and pushed open the door without waiting for a response. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a collection of pieces of paper spread out in front of her, and she didn’t look up when he came in.
‘Hey, Lils,’ he said softly, not really expecting a response. She was focused on the paper in front of her. He looked over her shoulder, and was unsurprised to see it was a collection of photocopied pages from a maths textbook. He scanned the page, seeing if there was anything he recognised, but it was a blur of meaningless equations.
He pulled the chair out from under the desk and sat down in front of her, so he would be directly in her line of sight, if she ever looked up.
‘I’ve been talking to your grandparents. Trying to figure out what you might like to do now. And it occurred to me that no one had asked you.’
He paused, waiting. No response.
‘I know you’re not going to want to talk to me. But if you could just let me know, somehow, whether you’d rather be here or at home. I don’t want to keep making decisions without your input.’
She stared stubbornly at the piece of paper, and said nothing. He leaned back in his chair, watching her face. She had turned ten last month. Her face was becoming more like Connie’s, and even Anna’s; mouth pursed, blue eyes narrowed, she looked more adult by the day.
It struck him, suddenly, that he was missing her entire childhood. It wasn’t enough to see her every other weekend. She was growing up and he hadn’t even noticed, still framing her in his mind as an eight-year-old shadow of her sister. When was the last time Anna had seen her? How long would it be before she ceased to be recognisable as the child she’d once been?
‘I want to take you home,’ Marcus said. His voice was quiet, but she looked up at that.
‘Do you want to come back with me? Live with us again? You’d have to go back to school, there’d be no grandma to teach you, but you could be with Connie again. Be with all of us. What do you think?’
She looked at him for a long time. Her eyes were unreadable, but he felt like she was trying to communicate something. ‘Please,’ he said eventually. ‘Please just tell me. Do you want to come home?’
Her voice, when she spoke, was less than a whisper: it was the hollow outline of a word, no substance at the centre.
‘No,’ she said.
Part Two
then
‘We should move away from here. At least move Connie to a different school.’ Connie, standing behind the kitchen door, heard the pleading note in her father’s voice.
‘Fighting and bullying are a way of life in secondary school. That’s not going to stop just becau
se we move her somewhere else.’
‘But maybe if they didn’t know the history… She’s not such a weird kid, is she?’
Connie noted the implications in the silence from her mother, and wasn’t at all surprised.
‘Things could be different,’ her father implored. ‘At least if we get away from this house –’
‘I love this house.’
‘Really? Because you never seem to spend any time here.’ There was a pause, and then Marcus’s voice, softer. ‘Think of Connie. And Lily will be coming home soon.’
Connie froze, as if the words had paralysed her. Was it true? Or was her father just being his usual optimistic self, blindly assuming that some day Lily would come home and everything would return to normal?
It had been nine months since they’d removed Lily from the institute, taken her back to their grandparents’ house. It should have become normal by now, but sometimes Connie still felt as if she was standing still, just waiting for Lily to return so her life could pick up where it had left off.
‘Where would we go?’
‘I don’t know. We don’t have to go far. A couple of villages away, even.’ His voice became low, coaxing. ‘Lily’s getting better, Anna. I know you don’t want to believe it, but it’s true. What if coming back here undoes all that good work?’
‘Why wouldn’t I want to believe it? You think I want my daughter to be stuck like that forever?’
There was a long pause, and then, ‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘Well, what, then?’ Connie noted the hysterical note in her mother’s voice.
‘I just meant that you don’t believe it. Because you – I don’t know. Maybe you’re scared to believe it. But it is true. I promise you.’
There was a long pause, and Connie held her breath, waiting. It went on for so long that she thought maybe they’d stepped out of the back door without making any noise. And then her mother’s voice. ‘Well, she’s still never said a fucking word to me.’
Hush Page 14
