‘Me too,’ I say because I can’t be bothered to put any thought into making a decision. John smiles flatly and makes his way into the kitchen, looking harassed.
‘Girls, you’ll waste away,’ Beth declares placing the menu down and grabbing the salt and vinegar in eager anticipation of her chips. Lowri pokes the end of her tongue out at her, but I just look down at the table.
I can feel Lowri and Beth looking at each other and it makes me even more uncomfortable. Who’s going to speak first? Who’s going to say it? Beth leaves it to Low.
‘Everything ok Seph? – it’s just that you seemed really upset the other day and we just wanted to know if it was anything that we did? The boys are worried too. Alex thinks it’s his fault for driving us all up there.’
‘And if he’s worried about anything other than his hair then you know something’s wrong,’ Beth interjects.
Lowri looks back at her with eyes that say shut it love – I’m trying to be sensitive here. But I know that Beth is just trying to lighten the situation and doesn’t mean to be insensitive.
I don’t really know what to say, just sit there staring awkwardly from Beth, to Low, to the table. I’m not sure what’s worse – having a panic attack and nearly passing out, or running off at the end of the day, a snivelling mess, ignoring my friends who were obviously concerned. Screaming at Alex. It gets worse.
The sound of wood dragging and clunking against the floor next to us catches our attention. Three of the sixth form girls, faces that scream, ‘Bitch.’
‘Great,’ says Beth, as one of them flicks her long dark hair, catching the side of Beth’s face.
‘Sorry,’ she says, smiling at the rest of the girls on her table, before smoothing her tresses over the front of her shoulder and inspecting the ends.
‘There you go girls – two cappuccinos and a hot chocolate extra cream – the chips’ll be here now.’ John saves the day.
‘Nice one,’ says Beth and starts to dig through the layer of cream from the top of her drink.
‘Thanks girls – but don’t worry – I’ll be fine. Probably just PMT or something. You know what’s it’s like sometimes. It just all gets on top of me and I’ve been on a bit of a downer. I’ll speak to Alex and explain.’
‘Here’s your chance’ Beth reports, as Alex makes his way past the crowded counter and over to our table. John arrives at the same time with Beth’s chips, and she slaps Alex’s hand which is already in the bowl before it’s even hit the table.
‘Alright girls?’ he says and he glances ever so quickly at me in a nervous way.
‘Just talking about you,’ says Beth.
Lowri’s eyes do that thing again.
‘Look – we were just saying that we – you – all of us, were a bit worried about Seph after the mansion last week. No point in trying to hide it.’ Beth always prefers to be up-front. I learnt this very early on. She’s just so real it’s annoying, seems to come as naturally as breathing to her.
‘I’m really sorry Seph, we’ve always gone up there since we were kids – most people do. I never thought it’d upset you or scare you, or whatever. It’s just stupid kids’ stuff that’s been made up over the years and …’
‘It’s ok – it’s me not you. Sorry for freaking out and for having such a go at you.’ I smile the most convincing smile I know, and for him it seems to work. He leans over for a hug, and I hug him back, before his bag slips from his shoulder, knocking me on the side of the head.
‘Oh god – sorry Seph,’ he says, embarrassed. At this point I even manage a small laugh.
‘It’s fine,’ I say. His concern and his awkwardness have softened me. I pick up my coffee and take a few large swigs. I didn’t realise how much I needed it.
‘Next time we’ll go somewhere away from all the weird stuff.’
‘Good thinking,’ says Lowri.
And I don’t know why the words come out but they do.
‘What weird stuff?’ I blurt out.
They all look at me as if to say thought we were done with that conversation. But I want to know.
‘Just the history of the place he means,’ says Beth.
I’m none-the-wiser, and my face obviously shows this.
Alex says: ‘You know, the girls?’
Again, I have no idea what they mean.
‘The Red Lady?’ asks Lowri. None of them can quite believe that I’m so clueless, and I don’t know why they’re so confused because I’m not a local – well not in the strict sense – I’ve only been here for a couple of months, so how the hell would I know?
They’re all looking at each other now and it’s really pissing me off. They don’t want to tell me something, probably scared that they’re going to set me off on another freak-out. I can feel my mood darken. My heart is pounding and my face and chest start to burn. Something is not right. I can tell. I knew it from the time that I set foot in this bloody place.
Within a matter of seconds I am red hot, glaring at each of them in turn, but in the end it’s Beth that I settle my eyes on because she’s the up-front one after all.
Alex steps in to her rescue.
‘Look, like I said just now, just stupid kids’ stuff really. Just local myths that kids make up, especially in places like this, to make things more interesting. Thought you might have heard of the Red Lady. It’s just a ghost story that goes back years and years.’
I’m glaring at him hard. Because he’s going to tell me all of it if I have to pin him to the bloody chair. They all are.
‘Apparently, years back – not sure when – you know history’s not my strong point,’ he stammers, ‘yeah, well there were these girls or women that went missing, all from the villages round ’ere. None of them were ever seen again, apart from one who was found out on the road that leads up to the mansion by the forest. Blood and guts everywhere apparently. So, the story goes that she appears on that road – head to toe covered in blood – that’s why she’s the Red Lady.’
He looks at me like he’s hoping that I’m ok with this information.
‘And?’ I question, I’m not giving up.
‘That’s it,’ he says, because judging by his face there’s no way he’s going any further.
I may not be myself recently, there may be all sorts of things going on inside my head but one thing’s for sure, I’m sharp when it comes to seeing things in people. Maybe that’s one of the things that can make everything so difficult; being able to pick up on every little nuance of information – words, looks, behaviours, the tiniest movement of an eye. So much information coming in all of the time and not always knowing where it belongs and what to do with it. It can drive you crazy.
‘So why are you all so desperate not to tell me this ridiculous kid’s stuff then? Seriously, I’ve told you that last week was just a one-off. I’m sorry that I freaked out and freaked you lot out too. But you don’t need to treat me like a five-year old for god’s sake!’
‘We’re not saying that Seph – it’s just we thought you would know about this. It’s just a bit of a surprise that you don’t, that’s all.’ As usual Lowri is the peacemaker, trying to get back to the point in a way that says something but really says nothing at all.
‘But why is it important whether I know this stuff or not?’ My tone is fierce now, yet pleading at the same time.
‘For god’s sake, someone just say it,’ Beth blurts outs. This is obviously killing her too.
‘Say what?’ I shout, so loudly that everyone in the café turns to look over at us. I sort of care because I don’t want to make a scene but I’m also too angry to give too much of a toss about what everyone else thinks.
Alex finally grabs a spare chair from the neighbouring table and sits down with his back to the rest of the café, leaning in. He’s just about to speak when John comes over.
‘Everything ok over ’ere?’ he questions.
Lowri smiles and reassures him that we’re all fine.
‘Ok, but if you want to argue
take it outside please. I can’t be doing with that – got enough on my plate as it is in ’ere today.’ He looks even more harassed now.
‘Sorry John, it’s ok – honestly,’ says Lowri apologetically, and off he goes again, this time over to the young boys tussling at the counter.
‘That goes for you lot too!’ we can hear him say in a raised, firm voice, in the distance. The other customers are now looking at them, instead of us, which is a bit of a relief.
We wait for everything to settle down.
I collect myself but I’m still wound up. Alex starts over.
‘You’re getting it wrong Seph. It’s not what happened the other day. It’s just a bit more, um, ya’know, um, sensitive with your family and all.’ He’s still making no sense, and all the bumbling about trying to find words is winding me right up again.
I glare at him.
‘You honestly don’t know do you? Ok, well … like I said, I don’t know when all those girls went missing – a few hundred years ago.’
Please just get on with it?
‘Well, thing is since then two more went missing. One about forty years ago I think and then the other one – you don’t know?’ He looks at me with pleading eyes.
Beth can’t take it anymore and steps in, much to Alex’s relief by the look on his face.
‘The other girl was Kathryn Thomas – she disappeared about twenty years ago. She hasn’t been seen since. Her boyfriend at the time was questioned and everybody thought that he did it, but there was no body and in the end not even any evidence, so he wasn’t charged.’
‘What’s that got to do with me?’ I don’t know why but my heart is going crazy.
Lowri picks up now.
‘She was last seen on your farm. Because her boyfriend Seph – it was your uncle – Gabriel.’
8
THEY WERE RIGHT AFTER all. I should know about it, and yes, it would send me back over the edge. It’s hard to take in the information.
My head spins. So much is running through it, each strand battling for attention.
‘I didn’t know,’ I say both to myself and to the others. ‘You’ve probably got it wrong. Like you said – local legend – it’s probably a load of crap.’
‘Well, I don’t know about all the Red Lady stuff, but the stuff about Gabriel and that girl, sorry Seph but it is true.’ Beth looks at me sympathetically and reaches out to take my hands that have a vice-like grip around my coffee cup, because I have to hold on to something right now. I don’t move, so she places both of her hands around mine from across the table.
I still want to believe what my own thoughts are telling me. Can’t be true, Mum would’ve told me … people talk too much about everything and everyone in these valleys … everyone knows everyone else’s business … rumours spread here like a virus.
Alex looks mortified and dead uncomfortable.
‘Sorry Seph,’ his voice is quiet, ‘I’ll leave you girls to it.’ He stands up, presses his lips together into a straight line and leaves us.
I breathe deeply and shake my head – what’s he got to be sorry about?
‘I can’t believe you didn’t know,’ Lowri pipes up.
Well, that makes two of us.
***
I’m very aware that the others are watching over me, and that after my behaviour on Friday and in the caff earlier I might seem to be in a weird place, so I reign it all in as much as I can in the car on the way home. I don’t say very much, but manage to answer the occasional question fired at me by Beth’s mum. I’m in the back seat alone, so it gives me a bit of distance.
When we get to the bottom of my drive I thank her for the lift, and as I take off the seat belt Beth turns around and asks me with a concerned look on her face if I’m ok.
‘Course,’ I say and make definite eye contact with her, and even smile softly to prove it.
Liar. You’re such a lying bitch, Seph.
I get out of the car, thank them once again, and tell Beth I’ll see her tomorrow, before closing the door. I wait for them to pull off, and wave as they start off down the lane.
My rage grows with every step that I take up the track. I notice that the car isn’t there. It’s getting dark. The house looms ahead of me. There are no lights on, except for one window that is illuminated on the top right hand side, which is a bit strange. It’s Gabe’s room.
9
I CAN REMEMBER THE first time that it happened like it was yesterday. It was summer – one of those summers that you wish would never end, because you’re ten years old, it’s the long break from school, and unusually for this part of the world the sun has not stopped shining – beating down – for weeks. Days spent with friends, or with family, or at my mum’s shop rifling through the shelves. Evenings spent in that strange parallel world of hazy, open door, open window, summer breath. Nights spent complaining about the heat and its imposition upon your comfortable sleep.
I spent that day at the shop, a welcome break from the burning heat during the morning and mid-afternoon blaze.
Four o’clock and the bell that hangs at the door tinkles and in walks my father, smiling, red in the face, pulling at the tie around his neck to loosen it before he removes it completely. Mum smiles to acknowledge him as he makes his way over to the till where I now realise she is finishing up for the day. It doesn’t usually work this way, but what the hell, it’s summer and it’s hot and this otherworldly feeling is alive and well today with all of us. It’s like being on holiday, without being on holiday.
He pecks Mum on the cheek as I walk up to him, eyeing the basket in his hand and wrapping my arms around his waist. I wasn’t expecting him to be here and am excited to see him. He kisses the top of my head.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, and he shakes the basket in his hand.
‘It’s Friday, it’s sunny and it’s picnic time’ he grins, ‘time to shut up shop.’
‘Hope you remembered the ice-packs?’ Mum says in her Mum-voice.
‘Not just a pretty face,’ he replies with a wink that contains just a hint of sarcasm.
‘Ok we’re done – I’ll just get the keys.’
Off we go, out of the shop, into the arcade, out into the blistering heat that makes all of us wince as the light hits our eyes, and over to the car that is parked in the nearest side street. It’s parked on double yellows, but ‘It’s Friday and it’s sunny’ – so we’re lucky.
Making our way out of town, amidst the complaints of stale car heat – admittedly mostly from me – there is a sense of being able to breathe more fully, even though I complain incessantly for the first ten minutes about the lack of air in the back of the car.
‘We can always turn around and go home if you want?’ my dad threatens from the driver seat.
‘Yeah, well never mind if I die in the back of the car,’ argues my moody ten-year old self. I don’t want to go home but can’t help it with the attitude – like my brain and my mouth are no longer connected. I’m not sure when this started to happen, but it’s annoying and hard to make sense of, which makes my attitude worse. And so it goes on.
‘Leave it,’ says my mum calmly yet with force, and I’m not sure who she’s talking to, but have a feeling it’s to the both of us.
There’s an uncomfortable silence that turns into peaceful stillness as the road opens out, my dad picks the speed up, and the air from the open windows rushes in over our faces. I have the urge to stick my head out of the window like a dog does when it’s in a car, and so out it goes, nose first. I’m told to move it back slightly – no, more – by my mother, because don’t I know that all manner of things could happen? For instance, another car could go past and knock my head clean off! I do as she says, with much eye-rolling – she even sees this.
Fifteen minutes later and the city has turned to houses, has turned to countryside. Fields stretch out on either side of us and beyond, and hedgerows line the country road that we weave our way along. In the back of the car I’m starting to
feel a bit sick from the heat and from the stop, start, up, down, turn this way, then that way motion of the car, which is inevitable along these country lanes, and am relieved when we finally pull over and get out.
I know where we are, we’ve come here every summer, and sometimes during an orange autumn afternoon, after Sunday lunch at the pub nearby. I claimed it as ‘ours’ last year, and as much as I’ve complained on the drive here – both inside my head and out – I’m bursting now.
Mum and Dad are smiling knowingly to see me in my new state of happiness. They grab the basket and blankets and we all head out into ‘our’ field making our way to ‘our’ tree at its centre, where we can catch some shade. Under the tree, Mum spreads out the blanket, slips her sunglasses down from the top of her head over her eyes, then plonks herself down onto it, lying back and sprawling her arms and legs across the tartan-check fabric. She smiles and says: ‘Now, this is what Friday afternoons are meant for.’
Dad smiles back, happy to see her happy and I take my place at the base of the tree – feeling the roughness of its bark against my back – and close my eyes, drinking in the soft summer atmosphere and looking forward to the basket of treats that my dad has brought along. He takes out a second blanket and spreads it evenly over the ground in the shade of the tree. I open my eyes just a little and lazily watch him unpack the food. The heat has already started to work on the ice packs and my dad eyes everything with suspicion, to check that it hasn’t spoiled.
‘Better just get stuck in you two, it’s not going to last forever in this heat.’
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ says my mum, taking off her sunglasses and rolling over onto her belly to see what’s on offer. She makes an ‘ooh’ sound when she sees the spread that my dad has prepared, and I feel a sudden and unexpected appreciation for him when I realise that he has brought all our favourite things.
It’s a funny thing really; the way that your parents can nag, harass and annoy you, but every now and again – even if it is because of egg sandwiches and milkshake – you just love them so much, and can’t ever imagine being without them.
The Twist in the Branch Page 3
