Hush

by Sara Marshall-Ball

  ‘Er, yes. Tea would be great. Thanks.’ Richard looked around for somewhere to sit down, but all the chairs were already occupied, by boxes or by haphazardly draped clothing. He leaned against the dresser instead.

  ‘So what brings you here?’ Rosa asked, darting a glance at him over her shoulder.

  ‘My girlfriend grew up here. Her mother died a couple of months ago, so we’ve moved into her old house.’

  ‘Oh, the Emmett place?’

  Richard nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable. ‘Does everyone know everyone round here?’

  Rosa laughed, delightedly, as she rifled through cupboards looking for tea bags. ‘Well, I know more people than most. But actually I only know about the Emmetts through vague gossip. No one’s lived in that house since I’ve lived here.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s been a while.’

  ‘Are you doing it up? Or just in need of a change?’

  Richard shrugged, not sure how much he wanted to say. ‘Just a change, really. I just lost my job, and Lily’s on a sabbatical from work.’ He shifted awkwardly, casting about for something else to talk about. ‘So this job, then. Was Ed just making it up, or do you really have a vacancy?’

  She laughed. ‘We really do have a vacancy. Though I’m afraid it would only be a few shifts a week. I just need someone around so I can spend some time with Ella, and Tim doesn’t really want to spend more hours here than he already does.’

  ‘Fair enough. Part-time sounds great, actually. That way I can still look after Lily.’

  ‘Does she need you to look after her?’ Rosa’s question was casual, her attention directed at filling cups with boiling water, but Richard still noticed a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice.

  ‘She’s not been well recently. Stressed out by her mother dying, I imagine. It would be good if I was around.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Rosa placed a mug of tea in front of him. ‘What’s she doing while she’s on sabbatical?’

  ‘Research, I guess.’ Rosa raised an eyebrow, and Richard continued, ‘She’s a university lecturer. They’ve given her some time off, you know, because of her mother.’

  Rosa nodded. ‘What does she lecture in?’

  ‘Maths, unless she can avoid it.’ At Rosa’s quizzical look, he added, ‘She doesn’t really talk, most of the time.’

  ‘She’s a lecturer who doesn’t speak?’

  Richard laughed. ‘It’s not that she doesn’t speak at all. More that she only speaks when she deems it necessary. Obviously, in order to carry on her research it’s necessary to be a lecturer, so it’s necessary to speak. But at home her conversation is mostly functional.’

  ‘Is there any particular reason?’

  Richard laughed again, uncomfortable. ‘Probably too many to go into right now.’

  ‘Sorry. I’m prying, aren’t I? Tim’s always telling me off for asking too many questions. I think it goes with the job.’

  ‘Yeah, you must get a lot of drunks pouring their hearts out to you.’

  ‘Mmm. Something like that.’ She took a sip of her tea. ‘Well, you’ve passed my initial tests. And I doubt Tim would have invited you upstairs if he wasn’t in some way inclined towards giving you a job. How about we start you off with a trial shift tomorrow night?’

  ‘Sounds great.’

  ‘I can’t promise much excitement, I’m afraid. Thursday nights are darts nights, so the place will be mostly full of bickering old men.’

  ‘Excellent. I love darts.’

  ‘You do?’ Rosa lifted an eyebrow, sceptical.

  ‘Sure. Throwing sharp objects at walls. What’s not to love?’

  They laughed. ‘In that case, welcome aboard,’ Rosa said with a smile, raising her mug and clinking it gently against his.

  When he got home Lily was sitting on the floor of the living room, leaning her back against the sofa. The TV was on, silent pictures flickering in the corner of the room, but her gaze was directed out of the window, looking at something Richard couldn’t see. ‘Hey.’ He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and sat down on the floor next to her. ‘How’s your day been?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘I got that job I was talking about.’ Lily didn’t move, eyes still focused on the outside world. ‘I start tomorrow night. Should be okay, I think. The people seem nice. You want tea?’

  Lily looked at him then, as if suddenly realising he was there. ‘Please.’

  He shuffled off into the kitchen, still talking, his voice trailing like a banner behind him. ‘The landlord was a bit grumpy with me at first, but the landlady, Rosa, she was really friendly. Apparently she needs to cut back her hours to look after her daughter, so she wants me to do a couple of shifts a week. Could be just what we need.’

  Lily could hear him moving around, filling the kettle with water, taking cups out of the cupboard. ‘As you said, maybe you could come down and visit while I’m there? Getting out of the house might get your brain moving again.’

  ‘My brain.’ She said it to herself, too quiet for him to hear. He appeared in the doorway almost instantly.

  ‘You say something?’

  ‘Oh, just – my brain. It is moving.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t mean to imply you’d been lobotomised or anything.’ He tilted his head, smiled. ‘I just know you haven’t been able to concentrate properly. I was wondering if it was because you’re spending too much time in this house.’

  ‘You wanted to move here.’

  ‘I know that. I’m not criticising. I just want you to be happy. And I want you to go back to work. At some point, obviously, when you’re ready.’ He caught himself, babbling. Made his mouth stop.

  ‘I’m not an invalid.’

  ‘Sweetheart, I didn’t say you were.’

  ‘We’ve only been here two weeks.’

  ‘I know, Lily. I know that.’ He came and sat down next to her again. Lifted her fingers, which were clenched white-knuckled around her knees, and pulled her hand into his lap. ‘I’m not trying to rush you or make you do anything you don’t want to. And I think it’s great for you to have some time out, some time to adjust to everything. But I worry about you being in this house.’

  ‘You brought me here.’ She looked confused. As if she couldn’t work out what he was getting at.

  ‘Yes, because I had to. Because we don’t have any money and there didn’t seem to be any other option and because I thought it might help. But it’s not helping, is it? You were better off at home.’

  Lily didn’t respond. Didn’t have any idea what she was supposed to say.

  ‘I know you don’t want to talk about things, and I know you don’t want to make life harder for me, but if you’re really unhappy here then please, please just tell me. I’ll find another job; I’ll do whatever I need to do to make you feel better. I just want you to be okay.’

  ‘I am okay.’ She flexed her fingers, and then pushed them through the gaps between his larger ones, until their hands became one interlinked limb.

  ‘Really? You’re not just saying that?’

  ‘I promise.’

  He smiled, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. She turned her head, and her eyelashes brushed his nose, her lips meeting his.

  ‘You want me to tell you a story?’

  Her mouth curved beneath his, and she nodded. Squeezed his palm in wordless thanks. Then closed her eyes and let his words wash over her.

  then

  ‘Before we start, there are some things I need to make you aware of.’

  Lily nodded. She felt oddly exposed, sitting across from Dr Mervyn without her usual pen and paper. He had set his notebooks to one side, and there was a clear space between them, like a pitch or a playing field. The desk was smooth mahogany, so clear that Lily could see her own face reflected back at her.

  ‘Firstly, I have spoken to your parents about the fact that we’re going to be doing this, so they might ask you some questions. Please bear in mind that everything we discuss in this room is confidential, so
you are under no obligation to share anything, but if you do want to talk to them you’re very welcome to do so.’

  Lily nodded again. She felt as if she was being placed under arrest and Dr Mervyn was reading her her rights.

  ‘Secondly, because we know exactly what it is you’re struggling to remember, I can be very specific in the triggers I present to you. This may be upsetting. You need to understand that I am not trying to upset you; I am only ever presenting you with information in the hope that I will be able to help you.’

  He paused to allow her to nod again.

  ‘Finally: this exercise is for your benefit, and you are here voluntarily. As such, you can stop this exercise at any time. If you feel upset, or in any way unnerved by anything that I show you, we can stop and you are under no obligation to start again at any point. It is absolutely essential that you understand that I’m not going to pressure you on any aspect of this, okay? If you want to stop, we stop. It’s as simple as that.’

  Lily nodded again. Took a deep breath. She found she was shaking slightly, and stretched out her fingers on the desk to stop them from trembling. She looked up to find Dr Mervyn looking down at her with concern.

  ‘Are you really sure you want to do this?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was a whisper.

  ‘Absolutely? One hundred per cent?’ He smiled faintly.

  ‘Yes. Absolutely definitely.’

  ‘Okay. So. I’m going to present you with a series of objects, one at a time. You can look at as many or as few as you like today, and you can go back to previous objects at any time, but I will only put one object on the table at a time. It’s best to take things slowly with this: look at the object on the table, think about what it conjures up. You can try to connect it with what you know about what happened, or just think generally about what this object means to you. Usually I would ask you to describe for me what you see and feel, but, because speaking is not your favourite method of communication, I’m going to ask you to write it down unless you feel particularly driven to speak. Does all that make sense?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘One thing I must make clear is that I would like to be able to read everything you write down, unless you specifically choose to cross it out so I can’t see it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It will help me plan future sessions,’ he said simply. ‘Now. I’m going to bring out the first object. Are you ready?’

  Lily nodded. She realised she was holding her breath, and let it out in a rush. Dr Mervyn reached into a box under the desk and pulled out an object, which he placed on the desk between them. It was a photograph.

  Lily leaned forward, looking at it closely. It was a photo of her and Connie in the garden, when they were very young, before the incident with Billy. Neither of them was looking at the camera; they were playing with something on the ground. Lily squinted, but she couldn’t make out what it was. Behind them, the trees loomed, casting shadows across the grass.

  ‘I remember,’ she murmured, barely aware that she was speaking. ‘Connie had this thing. A Bug Jug. She was catching insects in it.’

  She stared at the photo. Remembered the feeling of jealousy, watching Connie playing with something that she wanted. And feeling terribly sorry for the bugs, trapped by the glass walls, running from side to side, encased by something they couldn’t see. She had tried to join in, she remembered, and Connie had refused to let her; and then, when Mama had intervened and forced her to share, Connie had decided she was no longer interested, and left Lily alone to play by herself.

  She stared. Why had her mother taken this photo? Was this an example of them playing nicely together? Lily didn’t remember it as being nice, but maybe it was as good as things had got between the two of them.

  Lily scribbled some words, disconnected sentences about childhood feelings. Nothing about Billy, yet. Though she could feel his presence, trapped in those trees.

  ‘Okay. Next object.’

  Dr Mervyn took away the photograph, and replaced it with a marble. Lily realised with a jolt that it was Billy’s. ‘Where did you…?’ she began, but trailed off. It didn’t matter where he’d got it from.

  The marble was distinctive: green glass, with a perfect yellow orb in the middle of it. Lily had never seen another one like it – would have known it anywhere. She remembered lying on her stomach in the grass, the sun warming the soles of her bare feet, and Billy’s face right in front of her. There had been a gap between them, she knew, but in her memory they were nose to nose; she could feel his laughter as if it were her own. They’d been rolling the marble back and forth for hours, it seemed, watching it glide through the grass between them. Connie on the sidelines, grumbling; left out. And Billy, pleading with her: ‘She hasn’t got anyone her own age, Connie, can’t you just be nice to her?’

  ‘She’s got plenty of things of her own; she just always wants to steal mine…’

  Lily scribbled down the memory. It had been, what? Six months before he died? No, because it had been summer, the sun so hot it had felt as though it was falling out of the sky, and he had died in September… So it couldn’t have been more than two months before the end.

  What had they done, that summer, except lie in the grass and eat ice cream and play marbles?

  And what had Connie done, except sulk and complain and shoo Lily away?

  Lost in thought, she barely noticed what she was doing as she gestured for Dr Mervyn to remove the marble, replace it with something else. She looked away; stared out of the window, at the pools of afternoon light that lapped at the grass outside. She could feel exactly what it would be like to lie on that grass. The same as lying on her own lawn, back then. The slight dampness, the springiness of the grass beneath her limbs.

  The smoothness of the strands between her fingers.

  She looked back at the table, at the next object. And found herself staring straight at Billy.

  Lily was shaking when she left Dr Mervyn’s office. Billy’s face was imprinted on the inside of her eyelids; if she closed her eyes, he was right there, in her head. She balled her fists into her eye sockets, trying to scrub him out, but it just seemed to push him further in.

  She walked without thinking where she was going; she didn’t return to class. Down the corridors with their black and white checks, which she found herself counting almost without thinking. All the doors were closed, no one was around, and the corridor felt too wide, too high, and she was just a tiny speck in a sea of tiles and fluorescent strip lights. The veins in her forehead thumped against her skin and made her dizzy.

  She hadn’t said anything. She felt guilty that she hadn’t said anything. Or even written anything down. But the sight of his face… She should have been expecting it. Should have known that among a list of objects that might remind her of that night would be Billy: his face, or his name, or his belongings.

  But it wasn’t that night she was remembering. It was just him.

  She hadn’t even realised she’d forgotten him. You noticed when people first died. She’d never spoken about it, of course, never had any way of communicating it to anyone, but she’d thought about him every day for months. For years. During all her time at the institute he had been with her, her big sister’s best friend, her older brother, the first boy she’d ever loved. He’d been her silent companion, and she’d been silent with him, and in that way they’d been together, somehow. And she hadn’t noticed when she’d started being silent by herself; that was just the way it was.

  How would you notice the absence of a thought? It was only when you thought of it again, and suddenly realised, it’d been weeks since you’d thought of him. Months. When did he become part of your past, rather than your every day?

  When did he stop occupying every waking minute?

  It was a shock when you realised that people were right: that time did heal all wounds. That you did move on, eventually.

  And it was even more of a shock when you realised later that you never really had
.

  When she got to the bus stop Connie was already there, staring in the other direction. Lily sat down beside her. Connie looked down, surprised, and then shifted slightly, in acknowledgement. ‘Shouldn’t you be in class?’ she asked.

  ‘Shouldn’t you?’ Lily retorted. Connie smiled.

  They sat quietly for a while, watching the traffic roll past. It wasn’t a busy road, most of the time, and there weren’t that many cars. There were trees on the other side, behind a fence: the back border of the private boys’ school. The trees were thick enough to obscure the building entirely.

  ‘Did you see Dr Mervyn today?’

  Lily looked up, surprised. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Dad mentioned it. He wanted to know if I still had any of Billy’s stuff. He said you were trying something out.’ A pause. ‘He said it might upset you.’

  Lily nodded. There was a trail of ants on the ground, picking their way across the concrete in an awkward line, and she watched their progress without really seeing what they were doing.

  ‘Did it? Upset you?’

  Lily shrugged. ‘I guess.’

  ‘Well, you left school early. You don’t usually do that, right?’ Connie looked down at her, scrutinising her. ‘Or are you secretly as bad as me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So it did upset you.’

  ‘He showed me a photograph of Billy.’

  Connie’s face became strangely expressionless. Almost as if someone had momentarily immobilised all her features. ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’d forgotten his face.’

  Connie nodded, slowly. ‘Yeah. That happens.’ She had tried to sound blasé, as if it didn’t really matter, but her voice caught and she looked away.

  ‘Do you still miss him?’

  There was a long pause before Connie answered. Lily noticed the ants had picked up a crumb of biscuit and were carrying it between four of them like a palanquin.