‘You seem to push people away,’ he says with an honesty that floors me.
‘No I don’t!’ I answer defensively.
‘Ok, whatever.’
‘No, don’t say “Whatever”, if you’ve got something to say then just say it.’
‘I just did say it,’ he says, ‘and now you’re getting all arsey about it.’
I take off my seatbelt. ‘Cheers for the lift,’ I say, slamming the door.
It’s not until I get to the door and put my bag down to look for my key that I notice he’s still there, waiting for me to go in.
When I get inside I find a note on the fireplace from my mum, telling me she won’t be back until about six. She doesn’t explain, just says that there’s leftovers from last night in the fridge for my tea, and to ring her on her mobile if I need her for anything.
I’m not too bothered, think I’d prefer to be on my own for a bit anyway, she’d only sense my mood and start asking me questions. I put the lamps on and make my way through to the kitchen, opening it to find a bowl of pasta and pop it in the microwave before going into the bathroom to sort out my wet, cold feet.
My coat stays on until I’ve got the fire going properly, something I’m getting used to now. It takes a while so I sit and eat my tea in the chair next to it, shoving it hungrily into my mouth. The cold has made me hungry, desperate for something to warm me up from the inside.
After I’ve finished, I make myself a large mug of tea, and curl up with it in the chair, trying not to feed the angry feelings that Evan has sparked. But as usual, they are winning.
Even though I usually hate the weekends here, I’m glad that it’s Friday so that I don’t have to face him after our little exchange. The more I think about it, the more angry I become.
Who the hell does he think he is?
He’s so bloody full of himself. It makes me even more angry to realise that’s why I’m drawn to him.
Just one big mess in my head.
One big mess of a life.
I take my dishes out to the kitchen and dump them in the sink – can’t be bothered to wash them yet – before going up to my room to get into my warm pjs. When I open my bedroom door I see a box containing a small electric heater that Mum said she’d get me, because I’m always complaining about how cold my room is. I never thought something as ridiculous as a fan heater would make me so happy but it does.
From the box I can see that it’s actually quite a pricey one, retro design, but modern and chrome.
I tear at the box to get inside – getting annoyed by all the plastic and cardboard – and finally free it from all of the excess packaging. No assembly required, just needs to be plugged in, so I stick the plug into the socket and switch it on.
In no time the room is full of warmth. As I close my bedroom curtains I notice the light flurries of snow that float down. A gentle warning of what may be coming. The wind has died down now, and it is cold.
I hope Mum’s ok.
Then I get undressed in front of my new heater and into my fleece pjs with my dressing gown on top. I haven’t felt this warm in ages.
I go down and wash the dishes up, because I’m in a better mood now, and settle down in front of the TV.
7.12pm. I start to wonder where Mum is, partly out of concern for her and partly because I’m not too fussed about being here alone when it’s dark. I decide to give her a ring if she’s not back in fifteen minutes. I know I’ve got loads of homework to be doing and it plays on my mind a bit, but it’s Friday night and I’ve got loads of time over the weekend. I check my phone, no signal as usual.
I ring mum’s mobile at 7.30 and then again at 7.36, but it goes straight to answerphone.
Anxiety starts to jab away at me, but I decide not to let it have its way.
She’s just running late, and I’m safe here, the doors are locked … she’ll be home soon. Stop now …
The landline rings and I pick it up expecting it to be my mother, but it’s Beth on the other end. I pull the cord as far as it will go – until I can finally sit on the sofa and curl up with it on my lap.
Next on my list of requests is a new phone.
Beth complains about being in on a Friday night, and I go along with her, even though it doesn’t really bother me. We work our way around various topics of conversation. The ridiculous amount of work we need to do by the end of this term. Plans for Christmas. A new photography project that she has ideas for. Money, or lack of it. What to do for the weekend. The weather.
‘It doesn’t seem too bad at the moment,’ I say.
‘I know, I just hope it stays that way, forecast says that it might hammer it down tomorrow night. Seriously Seph, you don’t know what it’s like up here when it snows. Most of the roads are a no-go so you’ve got no chance up where you are, you’ll be snowed in good and proper.’
The thought of it suffocates me, like someone’s got their hands around my throat. ‘Oh,’ is all I can manage.
‘So I suggest we do something tomorrow just in case they’re right cos we’ve got no chance of going out in the evening – we’ll never get there, and if we do we’ll be stuck.’
This galvanises me, and I agree.
‘Right, I’ve got tonnes of work, and that stuff we need to get in on Monday for English. We’ll get what we need together tonight and I’ll come over early tomorrow. We’ll blast it in an hour or so – you’re amazing at all that – then we’ll go to the complex, some shops, catch a film, something to eat. Sound good?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘Absolutely not. I’ll text Low and sort it out with her – I’m sure she’ll be up for it.’
‘Do you reckon your mum could give us a lift, my dad will pick us up then later?’
‘Yeah probably.’ I know she won’t mind, she’ll be glad I’m out with friends.
‘It’s a deal then, any changes I’ll let you know. See you tomorrow then.’ And with that she’s gone, and I’m left feeling glad that she rang. Glad that I’ve got her and the others, despite everything else. I don’t know what I’d do without them.
I put the receiver down onto the old monstrosity and take it back over where it belongs, making sure to put the cord behind the chair so that Mum doesn’t come in and break her neck.
I take a quick peek out of the window. It’s coming down a bit heavier now, just enough to leave a light dusting over the ground, like icing-sugar on a cake.
It’s gone eight.
I’m glad I’m out with the girls tomorrow now, it makes a welcome break from being stuck in here. The thought of being snowed in once again creeps in.
Homework on a Friday night for a seventeen-year-old girl isn’t really the done thing, but nevertheless I decide to go up and get some stuff together like Beth suggested, so that we can crack on tomorrow and be out of here. Hopefully, the snow will hold off. I check the fire is ok, and then go back upstairs to make a start, still fighting off the anxiety that being in this house, alone at night, stirs up in me.
I take a look around at my room and decide it’s probably not in a fit state for Beth and Lowri to see, let alone work in. I put some music on and potter about, moving things from here to there, making a pile of dirty clothes that eventually go in the wash basket, hang some stuff up and tidy up the junk on the table. Then I quickly dust over the desk, my bedside table and the windowsill with my hand, can’t be bothered with doing it properly – it’ll do.
I switch on the heater for a bit and grab the books and notes that I think we’ll probably need, and start to jot down some ideas about areas we need to cover. I’m off in a world of my own with the words for a while, until I hear the door go downstairs, and hear my mum’s voice calling up to me. She comes straight up.
‘I’m so sorry love,’ she says, ‘I never thought I’d be this long, I hate the thought of you here by yourself at night, are you ok?’ She’s flapping.
‘Yes, I’ve been fine,’ I try to reassure her.
‘Jesus, what a day
– first the person I was supposed to be meeting was late, and then after everything the train was delayed because of something or other on the line. There was no service for over an hour, then they said that they’d schedule a bus instead but the line was cleared and everything got up and running again.’ She kicks off her shoes, and comes up for air.
‘It was chaos though, loads of people on the platforms by then. I tried to ring but then my phone died.’ She plonks herself on the bed. ‘It’s boiling in here,’ she says.
‘Thanks for the heater, it’s brilliant – makes the room much warmer.’
‘You’re welcome love, just don’t keep it on for too long, they eat electricity. And make sure it’s switched off properly at night.’
I nod.
‘So you saw my note about tea?’
‘Yeah, I was starving, must be the cold, I ate it all – oh – and I used the rest of the cheese on top of it.’
She smiles. ‘Glad you’ve got your appetite back.’
‘So where’ve you been? You didn’t mention anything about going anywhere.’
She looks sheepish. ‘I know, I should’ve told you. I just didn’t want to say anything just in case. I went for a job interview, it’s for the new library in town, but the interviews were held in the council offices, so I decided to get the train in so I wouldn’t have to worry about parking.’
I’m shocked, but in a good way.
‘Nice one, how did it go?’
‘Quite well I think, they’ll let us know by Monday evening. Considering I haven’t been for an interview in ages I almost surprised myself.’
I tear up. She never needed to go for an interview before. She had her own business, was her own boss. The shop, and all its associated memories and feelings come flooding back to me. She hugs me, close to tears herself.
‘I know love, it’s hard, but we need to move forward – I need to move forward, and this would be a big step in that direction.’
I nod. I know she’s right, but it’s so hard.
‘Anyway, I’m back. You’re ok. Your room is warm. I’m getting out of these clothes, going to make myself something quick to eat, and then I’m having an early night.’
‘I tried to ring you a couple of times just because I got a bit worried with it getting late, and the snow was starting.’
‘Sorry love, I didn’t mean for you to worry. The snow – you watch there’ll be no bread and milk left in the shop tomorrow, and it’ll probably come to nothing. Although they had it quite bad further up, someone was saying.’
I manage a smile.
‘Anyway, what are you doing working up here on a Friday night?’
I explain our plans for tomorrow and as I expected she’s more than happy to drop us there. I tell her that I’m going to finish up here in a bit, and go to bed so I’m up early for the girls in the morning. She kisses the top of my head, as usual, and walks off. Just before she goes into her room to change, I call out.
‘Mum, is Gabe here this weekend?’
‘No, he phoned on Tuesday night to say that he’ll be back in a week or so.’
‘Yeah, I thought so,’ I trail off ‘it’s just I thought I saw his van earlier, that’s all.’
‘No, couldn’t have been him, he’s miles away at the moment.’
I must have imagined it.
‘See you in the morning love, and remember to turn the switch off on –’
‘Yeesss,’ I interrupt. I hear her bedroom door close.
I stack my things together neatly for the morning, switch off the heater and have one last glance out of the window to check the snow situation.
Still safe.
Then I get back into bed, thinking about my mum’s news, feeling the sadness and the strangeness of it, and cry myself to sleep.
***
The dream that I have is cruel.
Mum’s shop.
Sat there in my favourite spot reading a story – something forgotten but familiar.
A fairy tale? Dark woods. A tangle of trees.
Customers browse through the shelves, while my mother works at the counter, checking stock, paperwork, and dealing with day-to-day business.
The bell at the door tinkles, and in walks my dad, all smiles, carrying a picnic basket. He sees me as he walks in and comes over to give me a kiss, before moving over to the counter and doing the same to my mum.
He puts the picnic basket down as I walk over, and I ask him what’s in it.
‘Well that would be a secret,’ he says with mock- mysteriousness, but moves back so that I can see.
I open the fastening and take a look inside.
It’s dark.
There are two objects. I take out the first, heavy and cold to the touch.
A snow globe.
I give it a gentle shake. The snow tumbles over the building inside. It’s old, a farmhouse – this house. The white flurry billows around the building, before settling down on the ground. As it does, it becomes red.
I don’t like it.
I put it back, and reach in for the second item. This is much different, warm and moving. I take it out with both hands just in case it slips.
A heart.
Pumping away. Spurting out blood that runs through my fingers, down my arms, emptying into a crimson puddle on the floor.
It pumps and pumps – there’s so much blood – it spreads around my feet, covers my shoes.
Then it slows – bled dry – it pumps its last spurt and stops in my hands, quivering.
I look at the mess all around me, the blood at my feet.
It’s starting again. Pumping in my hands. An inky black liquid spurts out, a thick sludge that makes the heart have to work harder and it can’t do it. I can feel it try to – but it can’t.
I wake up, gasping. I can’t breathe.
I ache for my old life. My father. The shop. I can feel the black sludge – taste it – and my guts heave as the nausea sweeps in.
For some reason I find myself getting up, walking to the window, pulling back the curtains and looking out.
The snow falls heavily now, billowing around the house, the yard, and the barns outside.
16
‘COME ON!’
My mother’s voice rouses me from my sleep. ‘Beth just called, she’ll be over in about an hour.’ I look at the clock. 9:21. I was hoping to be up about half-eight this morning, but seeing the snow last night I just assumed that today would be off.
Mum plonks a cup of tea and some toast on my bedside table, opens the curtains then switches the heater on for me.
The nausea from last night’s dream still creeps around inside me.
‘But it was snowing last time I checked in the night – quite heavy too.’
‘Well, it didn’t come to much really, the roads are fine now’ she says, hands on hips, after busying herself around my room.
I’m relieved, glad now that our plans haven’t been derailed, so get up and into my dressing gown. I’ve got enough time to have a quick shower before they get here. Sitting at my desk I drink my tea, looking out of the window at the snow that’s placed itself in patches on the grass, the corners of the wall and the roof of the outbuildings. I try not to concentrate on last night’s dream, instead focusing on seeing the girls today, getting out and about, being normal for a few hours. It feels nice. It feels new.
I go downstairs and make a start on getting myself ready, and before I know it I see Beth’s mum pulling over at the bottom of the hill. Beth jumps out and moves up the hill effortlessly, even though it’s slippery, with snow and ice decorating the track.
The blast of cold air that hits me as I open the door to her is a shock to my system, and I usher her in as quickly as I can. She doesn’t seem too phased by it. She’s wearing thick black leggings, a grey beanie hat, that helps her pink-blonde hair underneath frame her face, and her black biker-jacket. A huge matching grey scarf is wrapped stylishly around her neck, and her lips are coloured deep-berry with matte lipstick. T
he gloves she has on are black leather. On her feet she is wearing chunky black boots that are laced to the top. She notices me looking at them.
‘Forgot I had these,’ she says ‘I’m not really a wellies person.’
‘You don’t say,’ I joke, ‘you look really good.’
‘Cheers mate, you look nice too.’
I’m not sure she’s right, but thank her anyway. She makes to take off her boots but my mum tells her not to bother, it’s not really a ‘no shoe’ house here with the cold flagstone floor, especially in this weather, so she just taps off any snow that has caught in the thick grip of her boots and lets it fall onto the mat at the door, then steps into the living room.
‘Looks like we’ve been lucky with the weather then, I would’ve been gutted if we’d had to cancel.’
‘Me too,’ I say, ‘I got up in the night and looked out and it was hammering it down, so I just assumed it would be off. My mum had to wake me up, I even turned my alarm off.’
‘I spoke to Lowri, she can’t make it this morning, but she’s going to meet us at the cinema later about two o’clock.’
‘Ok, great. What do you want to drink?’
‘Coffee please – black – need to get my brain working.’
‘Me too.’ I go into the kitchen and make two cups of strong coffee, although I have to put some milk in mine, and a cup of tea for Mum. While I do she stands at the fire, which is roaring now, and looks around the room, inquisitively.
Mum sits on the sofa, and they chat about this and that. Beth asks lots of questions about the house, comments on the people in the pictures and even asks what plans my mother has for the place, if any.
One thing that I notice about Beth is how confident she is, even with adults, with everyone really. She just seems to have an ability to connect with people.
I hand out the drinks and sit in the chair at the fireside. Beth seems happy to stand in front of the fire and chat for a bit.
‘This place is amazing.’
‘Ah, thanks love, it’s really starting to grow on me again since we’ve been back.’ My mother is genuinely thankful for her interest. ‘It’s taken a bit of getting used to for Seph though.’ I just raise my eyebrows.
The Twist in the Branch Page 7
