Dear Nobody

by Berlie Doherty

  ‘No funnier than Greek,’ Jill said. ‘And that’s what I did. Look where that got me. Three kids and a field of horses.’

  Their voices buzzed behind me in the hall.

  ‘Fancy a drink?’ Dad asked her.

  ‘What d’you think I’ve come for? The nine o’clock news?’

  It was good to get rid of them. As soon as the door closed behind them I put a cassette on really loud. The whole house was vibrating with the noise. Guy screeched at me to pack it in. I didn’t care. I opened all the windows wide. I wanted the music to throb down all the way to Helen’s house. She’s fine. Nothing’s wrong.

  Dear Nobody,

  Yesterday evening I bought another pregnancy test. This time I read the instructions properly. It had to be done first thing. This morning I shut myself in my room. Mum was in the kitchen downstairs, singing loudly to some jazz on the radio. She was in one of her rare happy moods. I think maybe when I was little she used to sing a lot. I don’t really remember. Most of the time she’s locked up in her own thoughts, like my nan. They don’t seem to like each other much, my mum and her mum. They hardly ever see each other. I hope it doesn’t ever get that bad between Mum and me. I’d hate that.

  ‘I’ll tell her,’ I promised myself. ‘Whatever it says, I’ll tell her.’ My hands were shaking as I dipped the plastic stick in the test tube. I sat on my bed and waited. I didn’t care if Mum came into the room and saw me. I lifted out the stick, but I knew before I looked at it what colour it would be. Pink. Positive. Thursday negative. Saturday positive.

  The phone rang. Mum was still singing. She didn’t hear it. I let it ring and ring. It seemed to be a voice from another planet, trying to make contact with Earth. At last Robbie pounded down the stairs and answered it. ‘Helen!’ he shouted up the stairs. ‘It’s for you.’ I didn’t move.

  Robbie put the phone down and went back to his room. He turned on his music, loud, to drown out Mum’s singing. I emptied the test glass down the lavatory and put the plastic tray and spatula and stuff in my drawer. I washed my face and brushed my hair, and then I went down to Mum. I was going to tell her.

  Mum looked round at me when I went into the kitchen. She must have been able to tell that I was upset.

  ‘There you are. I thought you were still asleep. I’m making a pie for tea. D’you fancy making the pastry? Your pastry’s always better than mine.’

  I would tell her everything and she would hold me and stroke me like she did when I was a little girl. She would make me better. She would sticking-plaster my hurts and make them go away. She ought to know. Of all the people in the world she ought to know.

  I fetched flour and lard and butter from the larder and set them out on the work-surface. I was hollow inside. I felt as if I was doing everything in slow motion. Words were lining themselves up like soldiers in my head. Mum stood back to take a top note, lifting herself up on her toes, making fun of herself.

  ‘You should join a choir, Mum,’ I began. I should have gone straight into it. I was in a trap now. ‘You’ve got a really good voice.’

  ‘D’you think so? I don’t know how to read music though, that’s my trouble.’

  ‘Get Dad to teach you.’

  ‘Ted! He couldn’t teach a frog to leap, that man.’

  Do it! Do it! Get it over with.

  I took a deep breath. ‘Mum,’ I began. ‘I want to tell you something.’

  The music programme on the radio finished and turned into cricket scores. Mum clucked and turned the knob. All the sounds distorted. Robbie burst into the kitchen.

  ‘Helen, you moron! I was shouting for you for ages. Chris rang up about half an hour ago. He said if you come in he wants to meet you in the park at twelve.’

  ‘I’m helping Mum,’ I said. I felt like crying. The radio sounds howled and stuttered.

  Mum took the bag of flour from my hand and tipped some onto the scales. ‘Off you go, young lady,’ she said. ‘I thought you and Chris had had a row, the way you’ve been behaving. Go and make it up with him.’

  ‘Mum…’

  ‘Off you go, Helen.’

  I turned away and then I went back to my mum. I put my arms round her and put my head on her shoulder. She laughed with surprise and tried to ease me away. I wanted her to rock me. I wanted her to hold me tight. I didn’t want to let go.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ she asked me.

  ‘Yuk!’ Robbie said.

  Then Mum moved away. ‘This’ll never get the meal cooked,’ she said. ‘Off you go. Don’t keep the young man waiting.’

  Chris was sitting on a small wooden roundabout in the kiddies’ playground, letting his heels drag as it revolved. He had his head bent and didn’t see me as I went up to him, so the roundabout had to do another revolution before it came back to me again. It gave me time to think my script out.

  ‘Chris!’ I said.

  He jumped off at once. ‘Don’t talk,’ he said. ‘Let me just hold you. I’ve missed you. It’s been days and days.’

  ‘I wanted to talk to my mum,’ I told him. ‘And I couldn’t.’

  ‘Let’s just be together,’ he said. ‘Don’t talk yet.’

  We walked over to the little river that ran through the park. We came to the shadows of the trees. Lovely trees. I stroked their rough trunks. I needed their solidness. Lovely friendly trees. Imagine living in a country without trees.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Chris asked me.

  ‘I did a test,’ I told him. ‘And it was negative. Then I fainted at your dad’s. I did another test this morning. And it was positive.’

  I felt stronger when I’d told him, though I couldn’t let go of the tree, not yet. I was talking with my cheek pressed against it. I was abstracted from myself. Someone else was doing the talking. ‘How can something be negative and positive? How can it be and not be?’

  There is a huge mystery in me that’s too deep and frightening to be solved.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said.

  ‘Neither do I,’ said Chris. ‘I won’t leave you, Nell. You know that. I love you.’

  It was as if he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  After I left Helen I started to run back home. I was numb. A baby is. A baby’s not. Something and nothing. Somebody and nobody. Now and forever. Life began three thousand six hundred million years ago. Life began in January. And I was the father. I tried to wake myself up to the sound of that word, and I couldn’t. It was meaningless. It meant I was responsible. It meant Newcastle slipping away from me like a vanishing dream. I felt like a mouse crouching into a tiny hole. I felt the mousy air suffocating me.

  We’ll be all right. Whatever happens. I won’t leave you. I jogged steadily on, forcing my breathing into a rhythm, letting the words bounce with every step I took, flinging my legs forward, head back, fists tight and clenched up. Whatever happens. I won’t leave you. Helen, oh Helen, what have we done? I ran for miles that afternoon.

  And then I couldn’t sleep. At two in the morning I saw something blazing up in the sky across the oblong of my window. It looked as if it were set on destroying the planet; it seemed to be streaking towards Earth, shimmering and huge among the other stars, a shark among fishes. As I watched it, lying on my back with my arms folded under my head, it rose up and up into the centre of the window, then seemed to veer off to the side and soon streaked out of sight completely. I wished Helen was there with me, making sense of it, making sense of space and making sense of life.

  I went into Guy’s room and woke him up.

  ‘I’ve just seen a massive comet,’ I told him.

  He sat up for a second. ‘It was a plane,’ he said. Then he flopped back on his pillow like a dead man, fast asleep.

  March 30th

  Dear Nobody,

  Last night I decided what I must do. I don’t ask your forgiveness for this.

  You didn’t ask my permission to plant yourself in me, after all. You’re like one of those sycamore trees that keep sprouting up
from nowhere in our garden. Mum always tugs them out. ‘We don’t want you here,’ she says.

  I know just what she means.

  I asked Dad if I could borrow the car, as it’s Saturday. I told him I wanted to go riding. Robbie wanted to come too, but when he ran upstairs for his tracksuit I drove off without him. I hadn’t been riding since I was about twelve. I used to be in love with a great farting steaming stallion called Henry, I remember. I was crazy about him. I used to ride him in my dreams over the moors night after night. Then they sold him because he was too old for hacking, my lovely Henry, and I gave up riding.

  So this morning when I woke up after only shreds of sleep I knew what I had to do. I didn’t go back to the stables that I used to haunt as a child but drove out ten miles or so from home. When I arrived a ride was about to start, led by a girl not much older than me. They waited for me while I mounted a spare grey, and then walked in file up the road that led on to the moors.

  I found myself at the back of the queue. I needed to be at the front for this. I pressed my horse into a trot so I could overtake the others. A woman rider coming out from the stables to join us shouted to me to keep in, and I fell back into place. I should have recognized her, but I didn’t. She was quite a way behind. I was staring straight ahead. I was tense and sure of myself, but I wasn’t afraid.

  I had to get in front. When we crossed the road in file to go through the field gate I let my horse nudge past the others and trotted him on. The girl leader told me Nab had no manners and told him to wait his turn. I ignored her. I turned his head up towards the sheep track that went up the hill and I was shouted back again. The girl trotted up to me and reined in. ‘You have to wait for the gate-opener, you know,’ she told me. Her face had gone blotchy with embarrassment. I could tell she didn’t like to be in charge. ‘It’s manners,’ she said. ‘And anyway, I’m the leader. I have to go in front of you all.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. My eyes were already following the tracks, picking out the shortest route up the hill.

  ‘Don’t you know how to rein him in?’

  ‘Course I do.’

  ‘Well, do it then. You’ll make the others impatient. Or let him graze for a bit, it won’t harm.’

  Stubbornly I kept the reins as short as I could, holding myself against Nab’s strength as he jerked and tossed his head to try to get his teeth into the juicy young grass. He snorted and stamped, edging his way forward, and I pulled his reins taut till he stood still and calm. As soon as the girl rejoined us he pulled forward. She told me to get to the back. Her face was dark crimson by now.

  Anyway, I relaxed. I could already see where I’d be able to break away from the ride. I felt calm.

  It was very warm for late March. The heat had brought the midges out already and they danced round the horses, making them snort and toss their heads. The sky was as blue as summers, and there was already a lark up there somewhere. I knew exactly what I had to do. The thoughts in my head were as sharp as ice. I had never felt so sure of anything before.

  I was doing it for Chris.

  Half-way up the narrow track the leader glanced over her shoulder and sang out, ‘Rising trot! Kick them on!’ and immediately the horses rose and quickened their pace without being urged by their riders. I dug down into my stirrups. I loved the flow of it, rising and sitting, rising and sitting, the flow and roll of it. I wanted to sing. Then I tensed myself, keen as a bird for my chance. There was a large boulder ahead of us on the path. Beyond that the path split, a slow, twisting track that wound quite gently, and a narrow rabbit-run almost going straight up. I swung Nab towards that one.

  ‘Bring him in!’ the girl shouted.

  I ignored her.

  Come on Nab! Come on Nab! Come on Nab!

  Soon I was well in front, and at last had crested the hill. Ahead of me lay a long flat plain studded with young bracken and gorse. The path across it was broad and sandy. I couldn’t hear the other riders. I sat straight in my saddle, bracing myself. Now was the time.

  I hugged Nab’s belly with my knees and my feet. His stride began to lengthen. He held his head high and flung his legs forward, flowing into a canter and then into a full, steady gallop, his hooves thudding a tantivvy on the earth. I crouched low now, well into the saddle. I loosened his reins and let him have his head. I was conscious of the firm line of my spine anchoring myself to him. We were one beast, flowing like water through the sharp air. We were one mind. And my stomach rocked like a boat on the tide.

  I could hear voices screaming behind me. I kicked Nab on. A shouting voice closed up on me, hooves thundering close behind. I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw the older woman from the stables bearing up on me, lashing her horse forward, and when I looked back again I saw that the hill was sloping down towards a copse. I reared up, trying to rein Nab in. He wouldn’t obey.

  Now I was panicking. I lost my seat and found myself being flung and thumped about in the saddle, every stride jolting my entire body. My arms and legs flung about, loose and useless. The base of my spine buffeted the saddle again and again. My ribs felt as if they had burst apart. I’d lost the stirrups. I hauled on the reins but Nab jerked himself free; I could see his teeth and his gums bared as he tossed his head. I leaned back as far as I dared, heaving on the reins, and then they slipped out of my fingers. I clung on to the front of the saddle, knotting the hairs of his mane in my fingers. The only thing in my mind was Chris.

  I felt the other rider drawing up to me. She was shrieking at me to rein him in. She thundered closer and closer till her horse was brushing right against mine. She leaned across and then she grabbed my reins, and the horses bumped together, jostling for lead, slower now and slower as the woman headed them round from their straight course, and round again, in a tighter and tighter circle, till at last they came to a stop.

  I felt as if my skin was loose across my bones. The woman was shouting at me. I slid forward till I was lying with my belly flat across Nab’s back. I dropped down and landed on all fours in the heather, and vomited.

  The woman swung off her horse and came over to kneel by me. She gave me some tissues to wipe my mouth with.

  ‘Take your hat off,’ she said. ‘You’ll feel cooler.’

  I was too weak to do it. She had to undo the chinstrap for me. My hair was damp with sweat.

  She eased me up and helped me to walk away to a grassy mound. The sun felt like a blanket, it was so warm and kind. She kept asking me what I’d done it for, and I kept shaking my head. The rest of the party trotted up towards us and she stood up to wave them away. The leader asked if I’d been thrown off, and she told them that I was all right, and that she’d walk back with me.

  ‘You’re as white as milk,’ she told me. ‘But I don’t want these horses to get cold. Look how they’re steaming. When you’re ready we’ll go back.’

  I said I was ready, but I could hardly stand. My legs juddered as if my knees had been taken away. She helped me over to Nab.

  ‘I don’t want to ride.’

  ‘I bet you don’t. But if you don’t sit on him now you’ll never ride a horse again. Just don’t puke over him, that’s all.’

  She cupped her hands together to make a step for me to climb on and heaved me up. I lay across Nab’s back, and she helped my legs over and put my feet into the stirrups. ‘You are in a state,’ she said, grim. ‘But you’ll live.’

  We didn’t say a word as we walked back. It seemed to take forever. From time to time she glanced over to me, curious, but she didn’t say anything. When we reached the house, she told me to go and have a bath. ‘You’ll be as stiff as a tree tomorrow if you don’t,’ she told me.

  I wanted to be nursed. I would have liked to have been picked up and rocked gently. I wanted to be rocked to sleep. I stood hugging myself while she filled up the bath for me.

  ‘I’m not letting you go home until someone comes for you. I think it should be a doctor, myself.’

  ‘Oh no, please don’t.’

&nb
sp; ‘Your dad then. Or Chris.’

  I knew who she was, after all. Chris’s Aunty Jill. I hadn’t wanted to recognize her.

  ‘We’re trying to phase out the Aunty bit,’ she said. ‘After all, he’s a big boy now, isn’t he?’

  That was what I did to you.

  Now will you go away?

  The phone call from Aunty Jill woke me up. It must have been midday.

  ‘How’s your bike?’ she asked, which was an odd question, even for her. I told her about my new Campag. brakes, which didn’t impress her much.

  ‘Fancy cycling over here for some lunch?’

  ‘Great.’ I was pleased. ‘D’you want Guy to come as well?’

  ‘Good heavens, no. I can’t manage both of you at once.’

  When I arrived she was in the stables, forking out mucky straw and tossing it into a reeking pile in a yard. She came out when she heard me.

  ‘Twenty-eight minutes,’ I shouted, swerving up to her.

  ‘I could do it faster by car,’ she said.

  Then I saw Mr Garton’s VW tucked in by the side of the house, and I knew that this wasn’t just a casual invitation to lunch.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ I asked, cold inside.

  She lifted a forkful of new straw from its pile and tossed it into the stable. Gold splinters showered across the yard. ‘It’s not him. It’s Helen. She’s having lunch with us.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘She’s fast asleep on the settee at the moment. Chris’ – as I hopped off my bike and made for the house – ‘let her rest for a bit. She’s had a bit of a fright. One of the horses bolted with her.’

  ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘She is now. But Chris, before the horse bolted and she lost control she was riding him as if she was in the Grand National. It’s a good job I was on Mercury or I’d never have caught up with her. I have to tell you this. She could have killed herself.’

  I steadied myself against the shed; leaned back on it and slid down till I was squatting on my haunches.