Tam glanced up and saw the micro-gesture of fear flashing across Dad’s face before he hid it behind a determined smile. He was scared as well. The realization terrified her.
He reached down beside his chair and offered Tam some leaflets. ‘There’s some information in here that—’
‘I’m fine.’ Tam’s voice was clipped and hard; it was the only way she knew to keep the emotion out of her words.
Dad’s hand faltered, the leaflets wavering between them, then he retreated to his chair. ‘Well, right . . . I’ll leave them here, in case you want to look later.’ He put them on the arm of his chair, staring down at them as he waited for her to respond.
‘It’s not gonna be easy, Tamsin,’ Mum said, ‘and I know the timing isn’t ideal but there’s nothing we can do about it.’
Another pause, her parents waiting.
‘Just you get on with your revision, don’t worry about me,’ Dad said cheerfully.
He sounded tired. Tam looked up at him; was his face greyer than usual? Dark patches underlined his eyes, making them appear sunken in shadows.
‘You can’t sugar-coat it,’ Mum said to him. ‘She’s not a kid any more.’
It was odd to hear Mum say those words. Tam had said them herself so often that she was sure Mum didn’t hear them.
‘She’s still my baby,’ Dad said, winking at Tam, desperately trying to keep this trivial.
‘Damn it, Bryan!’ Mum muttered. ‘You can’t treat her like that. This is serious—’
‘Mum’s right,’ Tam broke in before Dad could respond. Her parents both stared at her, waiting. ‘I’m not a kid,’ she continued after a moment. ‘I’m old enough to know what’s happening. It’s not like I haven’t read about it already.’
‘Where?’ Mum asked, sounding surprised.
‘Online,’ Tam said. It was a stupid question.
‘Well, you can’t believe everything you read online,’ Dad noted.
‘I know what’s going on, Dad. You’re sick, it’s serious, I get it.’ Tam held her breath. Her words had taken her by surprise, her emotions threatening to erupt.
Dad’s smile had disappeared. His face was a mix of emotion. There was surprise there, but disappointment too. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
Tam scowled, not understanding him. ‘You’re sorry?’
‘I’m sorry I’ve put you through this.’
The dam holding back her emotions crumbled, overwhelming her. She couldn’t stay – she had to get away from them. To be alone. To escape. To fly.
Tam stood up and rushed towards the door. Mum called after her but Tam kept going, out the front door, running down the road, away from home, towards the wood.
Her feet pounded along the track, closer to the shelter of the trees. Before she was under its canopy she felt her legs swing under her and her head tip forwards. She raised her hands in protection, but she knew she wasn’t falling, she was flying. She had willed herself into the air, rising towards the treetops. She didn’t care that it was still light, that she might be seen. All that mattered was getting off the ground, away from everything. Already her mind was clearing, her anger turning into exultation. The wind dried her tear-soaked face, cooling her blood as she rose up to the tops of the trees, flying above the wood.
The sun struck her skin, bathing her with its warmth. She closed her eyes and flew higher, not even thinking about how she was doing it. This was instinct, primal emotions taking her up into the air, higher than ever before, until she could see the entire vastness of the wood, the stream glinting in the gaps between trees. Beyond was the motorway and the river that ate the stream. The entire land stretched out before her, all the way to the distant strip of sea that marked the horizon. She twisted to look back at the estate, tiny boxes with tiny problems. She turned away again and rose higher into the sky. As she ascended, the air cooled, pushing through her clothes, stinging her lungs, drying her eyes, and she remembered the dream. Fear found the edge of her consciousness, a tiny voice of doubt, but it grew as she tried to ignore it.
The rage in her ebbed away and she became aware of her breathing, rapid and deep. Her heart pounded in her icy chest. She was exhausted, over-exerted like she’d been sprinting. Her mouth watered as she gasped for air. Her head became light.
Tam looked down. How had she got this high up? Even the wood was just a mass of green now, devoid of details, the motorway just a grey line in the distance cutting through the landscape. Her stomach lurched, overawed with fear and vertigo.
How was she going to get down?
Even as her mind formed the question she began to fall out of the sky, spinning end over end. This was worse than her dream. Tam screamed, waving her arms to steady herself. Gradually she regained control, descending back towards the wood. Her teeth rattled against each other, her jaw tensed at the chill air. She clenched and unclenched her fingers, desperately trying to get warm blood into the freezing skin. Her vision was blurred, marred by moisture that she couldn’t blink away. She felt sick with exhaustion.
Then, as the treetops took on detail again, warm air found her. But it wasn’t enough, it was nowhere near enough. Tam glided through the trees, smashing through the canopy, scratching herself on the branches as they tore at skin and clothing.
The ground rushed up to her. She hit it hard with her feet, crumpled into a ball and rolled through the dirt, slowing her momentum, until she smashed into the unforgiving body of a tree trunk.
Tam rested, catching her breath, wiping her face as she tried to recover. She could barely move; the effort was too great.
The sun was going down and the wood was losing itself to the night. She was still cold, shivering but unable to get up. She managed to pull out her phone – relieved not to have lost it. Instinctively she found Mum’s mobile number. Her thumb hovered over the screen as she thought about what she’d say. How would she explain this? Instead she found Abigail’s number and dialled it.
But the line wouldn’t connect. There was no signal.
Tam burst into tears, knowing she couldn’t rest yet. She lifted herself up, then limped along the path, using every tree as a support. She stumbled and fell, unable to keep upright for more than a few steps until she saw the trees thinning ahead of her. She was almost at the edge of the wood.
Tam fell to the ground and tried the phone again. This time she heard it begin to dial.
TWELVE
Abigail watched the match spark into life, the flame fighting against the gentle breeze from the half-open door. The light popped and flickered, sending shadows dancing over her fingers. She touched the match to the wick of the candle and stepped back, admiring its soft glow.
The church looked beautiful, bathed in the retreating evening light of summer that poured through the stained-glass windows. The candles filled in the shadows, casting golden patterns over the emptying pews. She was supposed to be helping her mum clear up after the charity event, but her mind was elsewhere, deep within the wood.
She looked to the altar, to the carved figure of Christ on the cross, and the image of Tam rising through the trees came to mind.
‘You’re not there, are you?’ she whispered to the wooden effigy, her lips barely moving. She let her anger fester on her face. She was angry with Him, even though she no longer believed.
Abigail turned her back to the altar and looked for her mum. There she was, talking to old Mrs Foster. They’d give her a lift home, no doubt. She would sit in the car and ask Abigail how she was doing at school, if she was revising. She meant well but it was the same questions every week, and her breath smelled like rotten vegetables.
Her mum caught Abigail’s vacant stare, waving for her to come over. Reluctantly she crossed the church to join her.
‘You’re supposed to be putting those candles out, not lighting more,’ her mum said with a shake of her head.
Mrs Foster twisted stiffly to look at her and smiled. ‘Hello, Abigail. How are you?’ Before she could reply Mrs Foster turned to Abigai
l’s mum, adding, ‘She’s a beauty, isn’t she? Such a good girl.’
‘Yes,’ Abigail’s mum agreed as she picked up some leaflets and left the pair alone.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Abigail said to Mrs Foster, feeling self-conscious, wanting to change the subject. ‘How’s your knee?’
‘Oh, you don’t want to hear about my knee.’
You’re right, I don’t, Abigail thought.
‘It’s not so bad in this warm weather,’ Mrs Foster continued without taking a breath, ‘but I’m not looking forward to winter. Supposed to be a bad one this year, that’s what it said in the paper the other day. Don’t get old, Abigail, it’s no fun.’
Abigail smiled politely, looking for a way to retreat from Mrs Foster as she continued to talk about her sore bones and her ear infection. But it was no good, she didn’t come up for air.
‘. . . see three different doctors and they all tell you different things. The last one, he was foreign but a lovely young man, I can’t pronounce his name, he gave me some drops to use, but can I get them in? My head doesn’t tilt sideways! I think I’ve had most of the stuff down my neck. Of course, years ago I’d have asked George to pop them in but—’
Abigail’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw Tam was calling.
‘Really sorry,’ Abigail interrupted. ‘Got to take this.’
Mrs Foster’s mouth hung open.
Abigail answered the call as she walked towards the doorway. ‘Hello?’
Nothing. She pulled the phone from her ear, checking the line was still connected. She listened again. She couldn’t hear anyone at the other end. ‘Tam, are you there?’
The sound of breathing came down the line, shallow and faint.
‘Tam? Can you hear me?’ Abigail asked.
The breathing became stronger.
‘I’m here . . .’ Tam managed, her voice frail. She continued to speak but her words were just a mumble.
‘What’s that? I can’t hear you.’
The phone rustled, as if it was being moved, then the voice became louder. ‘Abigail . . . help me. I’m . . . I’m . . .’
‘Tam? What’s happened? Where are you?’
There was a pause, then Tam said, ‘The wood.’
‘OK, OK, I’m coming, just hang on. I’m coming.’ Already Abigail was running down the steps and away from the church, calculating how long it would take her to get to the wood from here. Almost immediately the line disconnected. Abigail redialled the number, running as she listened to the phone, willing it to connect again, but it just kept on ringing.
She came to the edge of the wood and sprinted along the path into the trees. She knew Tam must be at the other side, closer to her home. Abigail would find her there, she hoped.
THIRTEEN
‘Tam, wake up, please.’
The voice was fragile and distant.
‘You have to wake up! Come on, please, I’m really scared.’
It was Abigail’s voice. Tam tried to open her eyes but the messages didn’t seem to be leaving her brain. She needed to rest. Just another minute, just another minute.
‘Tam, wake up. I’m gonna have to call an ambulance or your mum or the police or—’
No! Tam raised her hand and found Abigail.
‘You’re alive! Oh, thank God!’
Tam opened her eyes and saw Abigail close to her face, fear written across her features. Abigail half laughed with relief. ‘What happened? You look awful.’
Tam shook her head gently. ‘Later. Just get me home.’
‘OK, right,’ Abigail replied, her voice trembling. ‘Do you think you can stand?’
Tam tested her legs and arms, flexing toes and fingers. Satisfied that nothing was broken she pulled herself onto her knees and tried to get up. She fell on Abigail, using her for support as she got to her feet.
‘That’s it, good,’ Abigail encouraged, wrapping her arms around Tam’s aching body. ‘Just one step at a time, no problem. Christ, you look terrible. What’s your mum gonna say?’
Tam stopped and looked down at herself. ‘I need to get cleaned up.’
‘You can come to my house, if you want,’ Abigail said, sounding hesitant. ‘You can . . . you can stay over.’
‘Really?’ Tam checked, tempted by the offer.
‘Yeah, it’ll be fine. I’m sure it’ll be fine.’
A night away from home would be welcome. Tam nodded and they turned back towards the wood. ‘Is it far?’
‘Ten minutes, maybe longer with you like this. Think you can make that?’
Tam nodded. They stumbled down the path, back towards the wood. As she walked further Tam managed to take her own weight and move away from Abigail’s support.
Abigail protested. ‘Don’t rush things, you’re still weak.’
‘I’m feeling better now.’
‘Were you . . .’ Abigail moved closer and lowered her voice. ‘Were you flying?’
Tam nodded.
Abigail’s grin lit up her face. ‘You have to tell me all about it.’
‘I will, but not now,’ Tam sighed.
The wood was different now, dark blues instead of vibrant greens. There was a tense silence over the place, as if a thousand eyes followed them.
‘It’s creepy when it’s dark,’ Tam noted, her voice a whisper.
‘Yeah, you’re right.’
‘Will your mum mind me staying?’
‘No, she’ll be fine. She might want to talk to your mum though; she’s funny like that.’
Tam stopped. ‘What’ll you tell her?’
‘Just that you’re a friend staying over, nothing weird. It’ll be fine.’
‘Good.’
FOURTEEN
‘I’m not complaining, but I just wish you’d given me some notice,’ Abigail’s mum said in a whisper. ‘I don’t have much in. You’ll have to order a takeaway. And the spare room is a tip.’
‘Mum, it’s fine,’ Abigail soothed.
‘And I don’t like you just rushing off from church like that. You had me worried sick. And Mrs Foster thinks you’re on drugs now.’
‘What?’
Abigail’s mum rolled her eyes, sharing her frustration. ‘You know how she is. Just be extra nice to her when you see her next, OK?’
‘I will,’ Abigail soothed. ‘And I’m sorry for running off. It’s just . . . Tam needed me.’
‘Who is she anyway? You’ve never spoken of her before.’
‘I must have.’
‘Have you?’
‘She’s in biology with me. We’re going to revise together.’
Abigail’s mum thought for a moment. ‘She’s not one of your usual friends. She looks a bit . . .’
Abigail folded her arms. ‘A bit what?’
‘A bit rough,’ her mum said, her lips exaggerating the pronunciation.
‘She fell over, I told you.’
Abigail’s mum closed the dishwasher, tidying and wiping the granite worktops. ‘Well, at least her mum sounded nice enough on the phone. She was a bit concerned, said Tamsin was upset, that she’d run out. Did you know her dad’s not very well?’
Abigail nodded, not volunteering any information.
‘She probably just needs a night with a friend,’ her mum continued, thinking. ‘Bit of breathing space.’
‘Probably,’ Abigail agreed, adding, ‘Thanks, Mum.’
Her mum nodded firmly, as if they’d made some sort of decision. She opened up one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a handful of takeaway menus. ‘Pizza?’
FIFTEEN
Abigail’s pyjamas smelt of flowers. When she wasn’t looking Tam raised up her arm and sniffed at the sleeve, wallowing in the gentle scent.
‘They fit OK?’ Abigail asked from the door.
‘Yes,’ Tam said with a smile. She was clean now, refreshed after a hot shower. ‘Was your mum OK with me staying?’
Abigail sat on the end of the bed. ‘She’s fine. I told you she would be. She spoke to yo
ur mum though.’
‘I know. She’s been texting.’
‘She was on for ages, chatting like they’re old friends.’ Abigail rolled her eyes.
‘What about?’
‘Nothing. You know how mums are.’
Tam nodded, pulling her legs up towards her.
‘Is the room OK for you?’ Abigail enquired.
‘Yes,’ Tam said. ‘This is just a spare room?’ It was bigger than Tam’s bedroom, with a double bed and fitted wardrobes that she’d never be able to fill.
‘Yeah, it doesn’t get used much. Dad keeps threatening to make it into a gym but Mum says that’d lower the value. D’you like pizza? Mum’s ordered some.’
Tam grinned. She was ravished. Flying seemed to consume all of her energy, leaving her tired and hungry.
‘How far did you go this time?’
‘You mean flying?’ Tam checked.
‘No,’ Abigail teased. ‘I mean on your magic bicycle.’
Tam thought for a second. ‘Too high. It was pretty scary. I just kept going higher and higher, then . . .’ She shivered, picturing her fall back towards the wood.
‘What were you doing back there so soon?’
‘No notepad?’ Tam asked.
Abigail held up her empty hands, smiling.
‘I just wanted to get away.’ Tam hugged her legs closer to her chest. ‘Mum and Dad . . . they were talking about his treatment. They were being all serious about it . . .’
‘It is serious,’ Abigail said softly.
Tam shot her a look. ‘I know it is.’
‘Sorry.’
‘I needed to get away, that’s all. I wasn’t thinking too much.’
‘Must be cool to just go like that.’ Abigail had a faraway look in her eyes.
Tam sighed, realizing a truth. ‘You’ve got to come back down eventually.’
‘I suppose.’
Downstairs, the front door opened and Abigail tensed.
‘Pizza?’ Tam asked optimistically.
Abigail shook her head tightly.
They said nothing, listening as a distant conversation took place.
‘Dad’s home,’ Abigail whispered.
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