When I felt too dizzy to dance, I sat on the floor with my open backpack in front of me. The diaries waited patiently. I lifted each of them out and turned them around in my hands, inspecting their covers then I took them into the garden and burned them.
‘I love you Mum,’ I shouted into the smoke. ‘Whatever mistakes you made, I forgive you.’
Wandering from empty room to empty room, nothing disturbed my peace, no menacing shadows, no creaks or groans. I closed each window and left. Instead of walking to Clive’s I found myself bouncing, almost skipping along the streets, attracting looks of wonder from strangers. At first, in response to their confused stares, I moderated my movements so as not to disturb their peace, but I was full of music - the rhythm of my blood, the percussion of my steps, and the melody inside my mind. Eventually I realised the world outside my skin was insignificant in comparison to my internal landscape and I ignored it.
Clive opened his door and embraced me. ‘What’s happened? Did you guys ...’
I laughed, delighting in the tinkling sound. ‘No, I did this all by myself. I’m free Clive. No more ghosts. No more fear.’
‘Come in, my dahling child, my butterfly. Tell me how you achieved this miracle of transformation.’ He stepped aside and waved me into the hallway. I saw Anna waiting for me at the top of the stairs.
‘I hoped you’d come,’ she said.
I smiled and felt the narrow staircase reflecting the warm glow of my energy.
‘Wow, was he that good?’ Anna asked, giggling and moving away from the staircase.
I followed my sister into the living room in silence and sank into an armchair, but soon realised I was unable to keep still. My hands moved around me and my feet tapped a rhythm in the air. My skin tingled and it felt as though I was conducting a huge electrical current from every hair into every follicle. ‘It was magic.’
‘What was magic?’ Anna asked.
Clive handed me an ice-cold glass. ‘Elderflower,’ he said and passed another to Anna. ‘The suspense is killing us, Crow dahling. You simply have to tell us what happened to you.’
‘I found myself. I don’t know how else to explain it,’ I said, giggling.
‘Tell us everything,’ Clive pleaded.
Anna nodded. ‘Please. We’re desperate to know. You, you just don’t look like you did yesterday, not at all. If it isn’t sex we need to know what your secret is.’
I told them everything, carefully describing Scott’s ritual and explaining about dream space. Anna questioned every detail, but I didn’t want to paint a word-picture of my sacred space, it was too personal. Instead, I described the pathway and the wood and told them about the mountain and my damaged soul. I chose not to mention the razor-wire or precisely what I found in my grandfather’s chair.
‘I found the missing piece, and now I’m whole. I’m the ‘me’ I was always supposed to be.’
‘I’m so proud of you, little sis. So what now? What will you do now you’re whole?’
‘I’m leaving Bristol,’ I said. ‘Going back to London. I want to help people who need me. There is so much to do there, so much unfairness, so much poverty.’
Anna frowned and shook her head. ‘You can’t. You said we’d live together.’
‘You never even said you wanted to, Anna,’ I answered. ‘I’ve got what I came back for – answers and understanding. Wherever I go, you’ll always be my sister. We’ll visit each other, write letters, chat for hours on the telephone. I won’t disappear.’
Anna turned away.
‘I’m sorry, Anna, but for the first time in my life I’m not running away; I’m walking towards something great. This is important to me.’ I hugged her and kissed her cheeks.
Anna nodded and wiped her eyes. ‘Of course, I’m sorry, but I’ll miss you. We have so much to catch up on.’
‘And we will,’ I whispered into her thick hair.
We spent a lazy afternoon together. Clive brought us coffee and food while we snuggled together in an armchair. Clive offered us the settee, but we declined. It was strange but wonderful this closeness - the innocent melting of two bodies into one. I wondered whether Vivienne ever held me like this. I was sure Nanny did. Anna smelled of flowers and holding her reminded me of Nanny’s garden and summer days spent digging up weeds with my grandmother and watering flowers, while Tomas rode his bike around the grass in circles, blowing raspberries at us and trying to get me to chase him. I had loved that garden. It was the only place I had felt happy until now.
‘Should we phone Tomas?’ Anna asked.
‘What for?’ I sat up and tilted my head.
‘To let him know we’re okay to sell the house.’
‘Are you okay to sell it?’
She nodded. ‘It isn’t even part of my history. If it isn’t part of our future I’d rather have the money, to be honest.’
We looked at Clive who was absorbed in a book. He must have sensed our examination, because he looked up. ‘Sorry?’
‘We need to phone Tomas. Can we use your phone?’
‘Of course, although it’s only four o’clock. Will he be home from work yet?’
I shrugged. I didn’t know whether he would go to work this week. ‘I’ll phone later.’ I sank back into my sister’s arms, half-hoping the idea would be forgotten entirely. I didn’t look forward to hearing Cathy’s voice. ‘Actually Clive, would you do it?’
‘Phone Tomas? Of course, dahling,’ Clive replied.
He returned to his book and I returned to my happier childhood memories, slotting a young Anna into each of them. I remembered the garden always felt warm and was always filled with sunshine. I couldn’t remember ever making snowmen or raking up autumn leaves, but I remembered digging up potatoes. The dark earth covering my fingers felt warm and smelt like sunlight. I would mould it into statuettes of the family and rest them against the garden wall. Nanny used to frown at the dirt beneath my nails and I winced as I remembered how fiercely she would scrub them.
I drifted off to sleep in that warm cocoon of a chair and when I woke Anna was still curled beside me. I heard a nervous flurry of movement behind me and Clive’s voice, raised slightly, but I was pinned in place and couldn’t turn to see what was happening.
‘Hello Cathy, it’s Clive. Can I speak to Tomas please? Good evening, Tomas ... Yes it is ... Yes she is ... Tomas calm down. Do you think this is what your mother would have wanted? Yes ... They would like to meet with you ... Would Vivienne’s house be neutral ground? Okay ... how about the solicitors? It really isn’t like that at all ... I think you should ... Tomas there is no need to insult me ... It’s all right, I understand ... Yes, we’ve all been under a lot of strain. Shall I tell them tomorrow then? ... What time can you get there? I’m sure seven will be fine. Thank you, Tomas.’
Clive crossed the room and sat back down on the settee. He looked older, more fragile. His face was blanched and he was shaking.
‘What did he say?’
Clive jumped. I guessed he didn’t realise I was awake.
‘He will meet you at the house, tomorrow evening at seven o’clock. Please tell me that’s okay.’ Clive wiped his face with his handkerchief.
‘It’s fine. Thank you, Clive.’ I tried to get up without disturbing Anna but our limbs were tangled together. ‘Thank you.’
He smiled at me and on his pale face I superimposed the features of my imagined father. I wondered how Clive would cope without Vivienne in his life. He looked as fragile as the kitsch ornaments and music boxes that filled the room. Not strong like I imagined my father. Clive was just a frightened child who missed his mummy, like the rest of us.
‘Are you okay, Clive?’
‘I am top notch, thank you, dahling.’
‘You know it’s all right if you aren’t.’
‘I miss Vivienne. I will always miss her, but having her two beautiful daughters keeping me company is compensation enough.’
I nodded and ruffled Anna’s hair. My sister stirred but did not
wake. ‘Do you think you can help me out of this chair?’
Clive moved Anna’s leg while I lifted her arm and twisted out of her grasp. Standing in the centre of the room, I stretched my limbs. My arms felt stiff and my feet prickled in that dead flesh sort of way as blood returned to them.
‘May I?’ I asked, waving my tobacco tin at Clive.
‘Anna smokes in her room by the window.’
‘I remember the way.’
I kissed him on the cheek and walked into the dark room. Stumbling over discarded clothes, I crossed to the window and pulled back the curtains. Anna’s room looked like the squat might have done had Chrissie not been a compulsive cleaner. I laughed as my eyes roamed over the debris: magazines, clothes and dirty coffee cups everywhere. I rolled a cigarette and flung open the window.
The street was noisy and sounds of children’s play echoed up from the alley below. The hum of traffic was almost constant; it must have been be rush hour already. I wondered whether I could see Scott’s house and leaned out of the window as far as I dared, but couldn’t see his ribbon covered tree. Disappointed, I smoked my cigarette and returned to the living room.
Anna’s eyes were open and she stretched her arms above her head, yawning. ‘So we’re meeting the bruvva tomorrow?’
I nodded. ‘I hope Cathy doesn’t come.’
‘Strange woman that one. She always seems full of smiles.’
‘Seems is the operative word. If you piss her off she’ll make you pay,’ I answered. ‘Which of course makes it all the more fun.’
‘But we’re not going to piss her off are we? You want out of the house - away from Bristol.’
It was impossible to gauge what Anna was thinking. My sister’s face confused me. One moment she seemed tranquil and the next, agitated. Vivienne’s face would do the same when she was feeling vulnerable, usually just before I would find myself on clean up duty, washing blood or pill-peppered vomit from the bathroom.
‘If you need me to, I’ll stay until you’re okay. You’re my sister.’
‘It’s fine, honestly. I’m sorry if I ...’ Anna stood up and walked towards the kitchen. I started to follow.
‘I’m making tea,’ Anna said, dismissively. ‘I’ll bring one in for you.’
I returned to the living room. ‘Do you think she’ll be okay?’ I asked Clive.
Clive shrugged. ‘She reminds you of Vivienne as well, does she, dahling?’
I nodded.
‘Vivienne was tougher than you gave her credit for. She survived a long time, but she followed her heart more than her head and I am certain if she was given the choice all over again she would do exactly the same. That woman knew how to live for love - an inspiration to us all.’
Clive looked at me, his frank eyes told me to follow my heart and in his narrow mind I think that meant choosing Scott, but he didn’t understand. Love wasn’t always about sex. It was about making a difference and choosing to fight for what you believed in. I shook my head, doubting I could explain the way I felt to him even if we had one hundred years.
Anna returned with steaming cups. ‘Talking about me, were you?’ She frowned at Clive.
‘No, my dear. We were talking about Vivienne, and I suppose about Crow as well,’ Clive replied.
‘What will you do?’ I asked Anna. ‘Where do you live? Do you work?’
‘Wow, all the questions.’ Anna laughed. ‘I move around a bit. I live in Bath right now. I do charity work, mostly. At the moment I run a shelter for women who have to disappear.’
‘A shelter, a safe place! Anna, that sounds wonderful. I could do that in London – unofficially of course. It's perfect.’
Anna's eyes clouded and she frowned. ‘You could help us.’
‘I could.’
‘But you won’t.’
‘I don’t know, Anna. I need some time to find my place, I reckon.’
Anna looked at me strangely and I felt something important was not being said. My neck prickled, and I searched for an appropriate question that might shed light on the mystery, but I didn’t have enough information to find it. I looked to Clive for support, but he was reading again. There was something amiss though and it nagged at the back of my skull. I regretted burning the diaries; maybe Vivienne had written something which could have helped me to join the dots Anna had sketched out for me.
I left soon after and the same nagging feeling followed me back to the house. The streets were quiet. It had been raining steadily and the pavements shimmered in the twilight. My footsteps echoed between rows of houses. I pulled my jacket tightly around my body, glad I had brought it. Vivienne’s house was the only one in the street in complete darkness. Every window I passed revealed the flickering light of a television or the warm yellow glow of a lamp. In contrast my family home looked cold and empty. Pacified by Scott’s smudging, it waited quietly for its mistress to return. I wondered whether I might ever miss these walls and stroked the brick-work with my fingertips. There was no life in them. I could leave and not regret it.
The door groaned as I opened it and the shadows of the hallway rushed to greet me as if they wanted to convince me to stay and become one with them, but I knew to do so would be to fade a little more with each day. I was alive and this was a house of dead things. Even if Vivienne’s will had said it belonged to me, I did not belong to it.
I shrugged off the darkness and headed for the kitchen. Listening to the hiss and bubble of the kettle, I dragged on a cigarette, feeling heavy. I had lost the lightness of being I’d felt earlier. I was worried about Tomas and concerned about Anna. Maybe I was also worried about what tomorrow would bring. Would Tomas even come to the house? I had loved and looked after Tomas throughout our childhood and I came back when he said he needed me and now, after everything, he had rejected me. With a sinking feeling I realised he was a spoiled brat, incapable of considering my feelings on any matter and wondered whether it had always been that way.
45
My body was tingling again. It was impossible to get used to this nervous excitement. Unable to settle, I moved from room to room, cleaning the living room and vigorously polishing the windows until the sunlight streamed through them uninhibited. The crystals did the rest, breaking open the light into a myriad of colours. The space looked magical.
I felt like Cinderella, faced with my golden carriage but still dressed in rags. I found the perfect outfit in my mother’s wardrobe: a silk jersey t-shirt and a simple black skirt. I had to lift the bottom a little to walk safely so I discarded that skirt and chose something shorter. I swirled in front of a mirror and the hem opened out around my knees like a morning bloom.
I checked the clock for the twentieth time that morning. He would be here soon. When the doorbell chimed, I rushed towards it. Scott hovered at the doorstep, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He managed a smile. We drank tea and spoke of my plans. I wouldn’t be a stranger and he would have my address as soon as I knew it. I told him Tomas was meeting with Anna and me that evening and asked Scott to stay. He said he wasn’t sure it would be a good idea. I asked him to stay anyway, for me and he reluctantly agreed.
We stood up ready to move into the living room. My legs shook beneath me and I clutched the table. Scott noticed and frowned. I watched his slender body as he crouched down to spread out the mat and arrange the candles. He made the circle wider this time to fit us both. It looked like a gateway to another world and maybe that’s what it was. He lit the sage and smudged the room, cleansing every corner. It seemed to take forever and I felt impatient, but chewed my nails rather than disturb him.
At last he sat in the circle and I joined him. We faced each other, two sides of a magic mirror. Scott sat with his feet resting on his knees. I crossed my legs and rested my hands on my thighs. He closed his eyes, leaving me behind. Racing to catch up with him, I let my eyelids close and started to count.
My circle danced with reflected light and I wanted to dance with it. I twisted my body in time to imagined music an
d presented all I was to my silent tree. My body felt warm and my breath ragged. I felt wild and free. Bending over, I became a stag and rushed into the trees. I didn’t know where I was going, but my body took me there anyway. When I reached a silver tree with a carpet of Autumnal leaves beneath it, I knew I’d reached my destination. My body changed back to human form and I sat beside the tree to wait. The leaves on the ground rustled. They were piled high and as I leaned towards them I saw toes and fingers peeking out from beneath. I brushed the leaves aside any my hands revealed a face: Scott’s face, his eyes closed and darting from side to side as if in a dream. I kissed his lips and he opened his mouth so I could fill it with my eager tongue. His breath was like warm soil and I breathed it in.
My body hardened as I kissed him. Looking down at my naked self I realised I was not the shape I had inherited from my mother, but sleeker, more sinewy and most definitely male. I brushed dried leaves out of Scott’s hair and showered him with kisses. His eyes gleamed in the soft light like torches to lead me home. I traced the shape of his ears with my fingertip and watched him shiver with pleasure. He stroked my throat and my pulse quickened. Pleasure spread down my body and the skin stretched outwards at my groin trying to accommodate my growing desire.
Our tongues danced together again and I rubbed my body gently against his. My pelvis stroked his stomach and my chest drew circles across his shoulders. His hands grasped my waist and he turned me over so I was pinned between him and a bed of prickly leaves. He looked at my face and smiled. My limbs felt like liquid, only my penis remained solid, the rest of me became soft and yielding. Scott closed his eyes and covered my mouth with his own. His kisses became deeper, more urgent. With one hand he stroked my chest while the other moved tantalisingly downwards. He stroked my stomach; it tickled and I wriggled and squirmed deliciously beneath him. At last his fingers were cupped around my manhood and I felt like a puppet as he expertly tugged at strings which controlled the very essence of my soul. I thought my body would explode in pleasure as he rubbed against me. I knew I loved him, but words were irrelevant, our pleasure below language, to be felt, not discussed. Squeezing my eyes shut, I moaned as flames of desire licked my flesh until I felt so hot I wanted to tear the skin from my body.
The Ballerina and the Revolutionary Page 21
