Tom curls his lip slightly. ‘Seriously?’
‘I’ve got chocolate and marshmallows,’ I say brightly. I realize I’m sounding like a children’s television presenter again and I can feel the awkwardness descending.
‘Oh well, if you’ve got chocolate and marshmallows,’ says Tom, with a look which might be serious or mocking – I can’t tell – ‘that changes everything. Fire it up.’
‘And maybe someone can have a ride on Mabel if they like?’ I hear my mouth saying. I have no idea why.
Anna shoots me a look. It’s a look that says this is not a good plan.
I look back at her and shrug. It’s out there now and maybe nobody else will hear. Or they’ll just think I’m joking.
Anna shakes her head slightly, frowning, and I’m not sure what the expression on her face says. And then a gust of wind blows her hair across her face so I can’t see it anyway.
And Gabe’s cousin Marek says –
‘I would love to.’
And he smiles at me and I think that maybe it’ll be OK. There’s a whistling sound as the wind gets trapped in the metal of the swings, and it makes Mabel stand taller, ears pricked, focusing. I shake her reins gently, trying to bring her attention back to me. One ear flicks in my direction but switches back again.
‘Come on, then,’ says Archie. ‘I’ve got to see this.’
‘Not here,’ says Anna. She’s chewing the inside of her lip.
Jamie says something, but I don’t quite catch it, and I realize that I’m crashing after the excitement of this morning. This happens. It always happens. I don’t want it to. I’m not going to let it.
‘I said why don’t you take her over to the beach path?’ Jamie looks at me, the expression on his face slightly odd, as if he can’t work out why I didn’t hear him the first time. I hear my heart thudding in my ears and there’s a sort of blurring of children on swings and whistling wind and I hear the tickticktick of the chain of Jacob’s bike as it spins, and Anna’s saying something because her mouth is moving but the sounds aren’t connecting with my head and I smell vanilla ice cream from a little child on the baby swings across the way.
‘Let’s take her over, then,’ I say, and my voice sounds brittle and louder than I meant it to. ‘Come on, Mabel.’ I turn and she follows me like a kite in the wind.
‘Grace,’ says Anna, warningly.
‘It’s fine.’ I don’t catch her eye. This is what cool people do. They take risks; they do exciting things. It’s not like I’m downing a bottle of vodka and jumping off the pier.
‘You OK?’ says Gabe, and he catches my elbow as we stand waiting on the pavement, me and my horse and a bag full of sweating sausages and my best friend and her not-yet-boyfriend on a scooter and our friends with their long legs folded up on short little BMX bikes and Gabe my I-don’t-know-what, and his cousin Marek from Warsaw, who wants to get on my horse and ride on the beach and have an adventure.
I turn to look at him and I realize how ridiculous I must look with my riding hat on and I wonder if my ears are sticking out of the sides, because sometimes they do. And I notice that he’s got a little constellation of freckles under his left eye. And I look down at his hand, which is still sort of cupping my elbow in a way that feels sort of – kind.
‘Fine,’ I say brightly. Because I don’t know how to say all the other things.
We cross the road, horse and people and bikes and scooters and noise and jumble, and one by one pass through the little metal gateway that leads from the promenade down to the beach path, and then we stop on the grass. The air smells of wet sand and dirty seaweed and all the things that people don’t mention when they dream of living by the sea, the things we just take for granted. And the wind is whipping across us. I can’t work out whether the spots I’m feeling on my face are sea spray or the beginnings of rain and I wish again that I wasn’t just wearing a cardigan and a T-shirt. A shiver passes through me.
Anna pulls the barbecue out of her bag and I throw her the matches, which are in the pocket of my rucksack. I watch her squatting down to try to light the corner of it, and Archie cupping his hands around to stop the wind from the sea blowing out the flame and eventually there’s a flare of light and they catch. Mabel snorts in horror, pulling back against me so the reins, wrapped around my hand, tighten.
‘Can I give you this?’ I say to Gabe. I pass him the rucksack full of food so I can hold on to Mabel with both hands. ‘It’s got the food in it,’ I explain, pointing at the zip.
‘Here,’ says Anna, ‘I’ll take it.’
Everyone is sort of milling around and the tiny little aluminium barbecue is not quite the focal point I imagined.
Tom is looking at something on his phone and I catch him saying he might just head back, and asking Archie if he wants to head up to the skate park. Archie shakes his head, though – he’s helping Anna rip open a packet of squashed-looking sausages.
‘What’s this?’
I feel my stomach disappearing through my feet and on to the floor. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. I turn round, and Holly’s standing there, legs akimbo in a short denim skirt, her hair pushed back from her face with a pair of sunglasses. She’s got something in her hand, and I realize it’s a cheap plastic kite with a scrunched up looking Spongebob on the front.
‘We’re having a beach party,’ I say, ‘and you’re not actually invited.’
My heart thumps really hard then, and I feel a bit sick. But she’s rude all the time, and it’s about time someone treated her the same way she treats me.
Tom mutters something out of the side of his mouth to Jacob, who bursts out laughing.
‘It’s a free country,’ says Holly. And she winks at Gabe.
And then – because somehow I’d forgotten – I turn to Mabel, who is something she wants and can’t have, just like Gabe is, and I run a hand along her mane and glare at Holly and don’t say anything.
‘Do you want to ride her now?’ I say, turning to Marek.
‘Please,’ he says, and he smiles at me. I lead her up to the edge of the beach path, leaving Anna and Archie poking at the barbecue.
And – because everyone always says that you can’t sneeze around here without the whole town knowing about it – a battered little red Vauxhall Corsa drives past as we’re standing there and I see Polly’s face in the window looking out at me and her expression says, what the hell are you doing, Grace?
And I half wish she’d stop the car and end this because I’ve messed up, and there’s a horrible feeling in the air, but it’s a bit late.
I take a look at Marek’s legs – he’s a bit taller than me – and I adjust the stirrups so they’ll fit. I check the girth to make sure the saddle isn’t going to slip when he gets on.
‘Here,’ I say, and I hand him my hat, because even when I’m taking risks I like to follow the approved safety procedures.
Marek puts it on his head, and Archie grins at him and taps his own head. ‘Cool, man. We’re twins.’
Archie’s skating helmet is so much a part of him that I forget he’s got an actual head under there.
I hear the crack of Holly’s gum and realize she’s standing close by, watching. Her eyes on me make my neck feel prickly and hot.
Mabel is standing stock still, looking out across the huge expanse of muddy sand that makes up our beach. In the distance I can see the grey-white frill of water, almost on the horizon, which indicates that the tide is coming in.
I turn to Marek, who is stroking Mabel’s neck. ‘Do you know how to get on?’ She’s transfixed by something, her focus on the middle distance, and he might as well be a fly for all the difference his affection is making. Her muscles are taut and tense, and I can see the veins criss-cross underneath the seal-smoothness of her skin. She looks beautiful, but half wild, like a white horse of the seas come to land. The wind blows her silver mane up in the air.
‘Can you help me?’
‘Sure,’ I say.
‘Grace,’ sa
ys Anna, appearing from nowhere.
‘Will you hold Mabel’s head?’ I turn to her and ignore the expression on her face. Her face is sort of rigid, and her mouth is held in a straight line. But she takes hold of the bridle on either side of Mabel’s cheeks, keeping her steady, and I tell her to keep Mabel’s head still while I give Marek a leg up.
‘Here,’ says Gabe, and he steps forward. ‘I’ll do it.’
I smile a small thank-you smile at him. I’d forgotten that he’d had experience with horses.
‘Lift your foot up behind you,’ he says to Marek. ‘Take hold of the saddle, here.’
And there’s a pause for a second as the sounds of raucous laughter and shrieks blow on the wind from behind us, and I turn to see what it is just as Gabe takes Marek’s bent leg in his hands.
Mabel tenses slightly and Anna shoots me a look of alarm.
I feel Gabe stepping back behind me and I feel the thinness of leather reins in my hands and the rush of the wind in my ears and Mabel jumps sideways, suddenly, with a snort.
Holly and her friends laugh loudly.
‘It’s quite high up here, isn’t it?’ Marek wobbles, still holding on to the top of the saddle as he’s been instructed. Gabe takes a step forward.
‘Are you actually going to go for a ride?’ says Jacob, and he reverses his BMX back off the path to clear the way and I look at Anna who shakes her head slightly and I say, ‘Sure.’
And again I take a moment to process the words before they make it into my head, and by the time I nod back at Gabe enough time has passed that I think he’s looking at me strangely and I wonder if he thinks I don’t understand something. But it’s not him – it’s the wind and my panic, which is rising, blowing up and up.
‘Shh, Mabel,’ I whisper, but the wind whips the words away as I chant them.
‘Be good, be quiet, be nice –’
‘Ready?’ says Gabe.
And we start to walk along the path. I’m holding on to Mabel’s head and Marek says something and I turn to hear what he’s said because with the wind and my brain melting I can’t catch it without concentrating. And in that second when my attention turns from her to him I hear a shriek and see Holly Carmichael and her cronies running along the beach, laughing and pointing, waving their arms in the air, and there’s a flutter as something yellow flies past my head, carried by the wind, something plastic and colourful and flappy, and it flies between me and Marek and wraps itself for a second around Mabel’s head and she pulls away.
I try to grab the reins back but I’m torn in that second because I can feel Marek slipping sideways. I reach forward to grab him so he doesn’t fall, and Mabel throws her head in the air, snorting again with fear. I see the white of her eye as she throws her head sideways, tossing it up to get the thing off.
As it flies up, I realize it’s Holly’s kite. It sails up into the sky.
And Marek falls then, landing backwards on to me with a force that knocks my breath out in a huff of surprise. Mabel takes a sideways leap and, realizing she’s not being held any more, she bolts, and it’s like everything just stops.
I can’t move. Marek’s half pinning me to the ground and I feel sick, as if I’ve been punched in the stomach, and everyone is flapping and screaming at Holly, at Mabel, at me –
‘Grace, I knew this was a bad idea!’ Anna screams at me, looming over me, her face all twisted with anger.
Oh God, come back, come back.
Come back.
I scramble up from underneath Marek and watch in horror as Mabel shies again at a pile of rocks on the side of the path, jumping like a startled cat and then pecking slightly as her leg gets caught in the reins which have come loose over her head and I can see her then broken and lying with her legs smashed and I know I’ve killed her and I’ve made this happen and everyone is still screaming and Holly is still shrieking and it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have brought her here.
So I run.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It’s raining now.
The wind is battering against the roof of the seaside shelter and the rain is dripping down in front of me. I’m cold inside and out. The clouds are so low that it feels as if it’s getting dark. I feel as if I’m shivering inside and my teeth won’t stop chattering.
My phone keeps buzzing in my pocket, but I can’t look at it.
‘You all right, my love?’ says an old man. I realize he’s the same one we saw in the park earlier. I recognize his walking stick with a carved wooden fox on the handle. ‘Got caught in a shower, did you?’
I look at him, but I can’t make my mouth make the right noises. My face is numb. It feels as if the world is being torn away in strips around me. I feel as if I’m in a black hole.
‘Best place for you,’ he nods. ‘Keep dry. It’ll be fine again soon enough.’
I look down at the ground. He splashes away along the pavement.
The phone is buzzing continually now. I want it to go away. I want it all to go away. I’ve broken everything.
I pull it out of my pocket. Maybe the best thing to do is throw it away.
Maybe the best thing to do is throw myself away.
I catch a glimpse of the screen.
It’s Polly.
Something – guilt, panic or the fact that I’m a bit scared of her – makes me answer.
‘Where the hell are you?’
She roars so loudly that I half expect to turn round and find her standing behind me.
‘I –’
‘I’ve got your bloody horse here, Grace, and she’s –’ There’s a pause and I feel a wave of sickness and something else pass over me, something so strong that I feel as if I could die of it if I lay down here for long enough.
‘I’m –’ I try to speak, but the words are held back by a knot in my throat that makes it impossible.
‘She’s fine – no thanks to you,’ Polly yells, ‘but you better get your backside down here right now. Your mother’s out in the car driving around trying to find you and I’ve got the vet on the way.’
She’s not dead.
I don’t know how it’s happened, but she’s not dead. I look back at the phone screen – Polly’s ended the call now, and it’s full of a million notifications that I can’t even process, but . . . she’s not dead. I put my hands against my cheeks, which feel weird. They’re rock hard with sadness and panic and I feel the cold of my skin.
She’s not dead.
I feel a rush of relief. But then I remember all the faces of my friends and the screaming and the yelling and the chaos and that I just left them. And I know I won’t ever be able to face them again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I start running along the coast road towards the stables. I can’t fix what’s happened, but I can do something about Mabel. My heart is pounding in my ears and my stomach is aching.
I don’t stop, even when I start stumbling because my legs are shaking and it feels as if my lungs are going to explode. I just keep on going, imagining the panic Mabel felt when she was running away, forcing myself to carry on.
I don’t hear the beeping at first and when the car passes I don’t even recognize it. Mum stops in the middle of the road – she’s got the door open and the hazard lights all flashing and she runs towards me and throws herself at me and squeezes me in the middle of the road. Another car passes by and I hear a voice, distorted by the wind, yelling something out of the window.
Mum pulls back and looks at me.
‘Grace.’ And I can see she’s been crying and her face is all white. ‘Oh God, Grace. What were you thinking? Where did you go?’
And I just look at her because I don’t have the words to make sense of what I’m feeling.
She puts her arm round my shoulder and it’s uncomfortable, but I don’t shrug it off, and she sort of steers me into the car and shuts the door and runs round and gets in.
‘Fasten your seat belt.’ She starts the car and drives away before she fastens hers.
/> ‘This is my fault,’ she says. ‘Shit,’ she adds, as she pulls the car across the junction on to the shore road towards the stables. A lorry blares its horn at her as it misses us by a second.
‘And where the hell is your father when all this is going on?’ she shouts, banging her hand on the steering wheel as we get stuck at the traffic light. ‘It’s my fault. I took my eye off the ball.’
I don’t say anything. I look out at the Spar and remember riding past and how it felt when I was soaring and Mabel was flying and how we were amazing.
We pull into the stable yard and for a second I hesitate. I can’t bring myself to open the car door and see what’s happened.
Mum comes round and pulls it open for me.
‘She’s fine, honey,’ she says, and extends a hand to pull me out of my seat. I feel like everything is made of rusty metal. I walk like a robot towards Mabel’s box, passing the vet’s Land Rover as I go.
I don’t want to look inside.
‘Grace,’ says Polly. She looks through the half-open stable door and her face looks – I don’t know. I don’t know the look on her face. It’s not one I recognize.
‘Julia.’ Polly’s squatting by the vet’s side, but she reaches across and pushes the door ajar to let us in and Mabel turns to look at me and she whickers a greeting. I feel tears rolling down my cheeks and they’re hot.
‘Grace, I’m sorry I screamed at you.’
Polly runs a hand through her hair so it sticks up wonkily and her expression changes to one I do recognize. She looks at me kindly. She wobbles slightly and puts out a hand on the floor to balance herself.
Mabel heaves a huge sigh, blowing through her nostrils, and shakes herself with a scraping of hooves on the cobbled stable floor.
‘She’s a bit battered and bruised –’ the vet straightens up and turns to look at Mum – ‘but nothing a bit of TLC won’t fix.’ She runs a hand along Mabel’s back and Mabel gives an involuntary shudder, her tail swishing.
‘That’s good – her reflexes are fine,’ she says, and smiles at me. ‘Have you two been in the wars?’
‘Something like that,’ says Mum. She looks at me and frowns.
The State of Grace Page 16
