The Summer of Telling Tales

by Laura Summers

  ‘Ellie’s telling the truth,’ I hear a voice whisper.

  ‘Grace . . .’ Mum says.

  I realise the whisper was mine.

  ‘Mum. No more.’

  ‘No . . . Grace, don’t . . .’

  ‘We have to tell them what it’s like walking on eggshells all the time.’

  ‘Please, love . . .’

  My voice becomes louder and clearer with every word. It’s as if I’m waking up.

  ‘We have to explain how terrified we were, so we drove through the night to get away from him. They have to know we needed to be safe. And if we don’t speak now, if we don’t tell, it’s going to happen all over again.’

  Miss Turner stares at me, astonished.

  ‘This is ludicrous!’ Dad blusters. ‘I’ve never heard such a load of rubbish in all my life. Grace, what has got into you?’

  ‘Looks like she’s found her voice,’ Miss Turner says. ‘This is the first time Grace has spoken to a teacher in school and now I think I understand why.’

  ‘Oh come on!’ he remonstrates. ‘You don’t seriously believe her, do you?’

  Miss Turner takes out a purple patterned notebook from her bag. ‘Ellie left this in the hall after she spoke to Mrs Mulligan, who kindly handed it to me. I have read it from cover to cover. The content is most illuminating. Ellie, show me your right arm and tell me what happened.’

  Darting a frightened glance at Dad, Ellie rolls up her sleeve and reveals the bruising.

  ‘An accident! That was just an accident!’ Dad shouts angrily. ‘This is ridiculous!’

  Everyone’s staring at Ellie now. She shrinks back slightly and bites her lip before glancing at me.

  ‘Tell them,’ I urge her.

  ‘You threw your mug of tea at me,’ Ellie says, looking Dad in the eye.

  ‘You are in one big load of trouble, Drama Queenie, making up these stories,’ he retorts angrily. ‘You wait till we get home.’

  ‘No,’ says Mum quietly, shaking her head.

  ‘What d’you mean, “no”?’

  ‘We’re not coming home, Adam,’ says Mum firmly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s over.’

  ‘Karin, think about what you’re doing.’

  ‘I am. The girls are right. I should have spoken up long ago but you frightened me so much I didn’t have the courage. We’ve made a new life here without you and this is where we’re staying.’

  Dad’s face changes, his mouth twists up into a horrible snarl.

  ‘Fine!’ he snaps. ‘Suits me. I’m finished with you. You can go to hell, the lot of you.’

  He leaps up and flies out of the room, barging past Miss Turner.

  Mum looks like she’s going to burst into tears. Mad Mulligan puts her arm around her but she shakes her head.

  ‘I’m all right. Thank you. For the first time. I’m all right.’

  ‘What about Dad?’ Ellie asks fearfully.

  ‘Mrs Mulligan, would you ring Mr Nesbit please and get him to check Mr Smith has left the premises, then take the girls to your office for a while. I want to talk to the Headmaster with your mother and then we need to make some phone calls.’

  Chapter 61

  Ellie

  We spend an hour in Mad Mulligan’s office then Miss Turner comes in and takes us back to our classes. She tells us that Mum is going to be busy for the next few hours and we’d be best carrying on as normal in school. As if. The last things on my mind are oxbow lakes and French verbs. Cait wants to know what happened but I’m too upset to tell her much.

  I burst into tears halfway through the dress rehearsal at lunchtime and Mad Mulligan lets me sit in her office for the rest of the day and work quietly there. Grace is already there. We huddle at her desk with our books in front of us, staring fearfully through the window at the sunshine outside, wondering where Dad is. At three-thirty Mum is waiting for us at the gate with Bruno and a lady called Lisa who explains that she’s from the women’s refuge and she’s going to be supporting Mum.

  Mum gives me an encouraging nod so I say hello, but Grace looks warily down the street.

  ‘It’s OK. He’s gone,’ says Mum. ‘He’s taken his stuff from the caravan and picked up the car from the garage.’

  ‘But he knows where we are.’

  ‘Lisa’s son is a mechanic at the garage,’ Mum tells us. ‘When Dad picked up the car, he watched him drive off and take the London road.’

  ‘But what if he comes back next week or something?’

  ‘We’re going to have to move. Lisa thinks it’s best if we stay at the refuge tonight, then she’s going to help me sort things out first thing tomorrow,’ Mum tells us. ‘We’re going to look at a couple of places in town that we might be able to rent. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be OK.’

  ‘Do you want me to come back with you?’ Lisa asks.

  ‘No, we’ll be all right. We’ll just grab our stuff and go.’

  ‘OK, see you in an hour or so. You’ve got my number, if you need me.’

  ‘Thanks . . . for everything,’ Mum tells her.

  We hurry back home. A sea mist is rolling in and we can hear the low rumble of thunder from far away.

  Back at the caravan, most of the flowers Mum had planted around the front have been trampled and a few have been ripped out of the earth and thrown onto the grass. Mum warns us that there’s a bit of a mess inside.

  ‘I didn’t want you both to see all this but I just didn’t have time to sort it out, what with everything else.’

  Grace and I step in the caravan and look around, dismayed. This morning our bags had been neatly packed, ready to be put in the car when we left this evening. Now, everything has been pulled out, chucked everywhere, ripped or stamped on or trashed.

  ‘Let’s just throw everything back in the bags and go,’ Mum says pulling a face as she puts the caravan keys and her mobile down on the table. ‘We can sort it all out at the refuge.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ says a voice.

  I jump in shock as my blood runs cold. Dad is standing in the open doorway his arms stretched up to the top of the frame like bars on a cage. Grace and I freeze but Mum steps protectively in front of us. Outside, Bruno barks. Dad turns and snaps at him to shut up or else, then orders him into the caravan. With his tail down between his legs he reluctantly obeys.

  ‘I want you to go, Adam. Now,’ Mum tells Dad in a clear but trembling voice as he steps inside.

  ‘Oh, I’m going all right. But in my own time. I’m the boss of you – and don’t you ever forget it. You don’t tell me what to do. In fact, you don’t tell me anything any more.’

  He picks up Mum’s phone and snatches the caravan keys from the table.

  Mum attempts to stop him but he punches her with his fist. With blood running from her nose, she reels back against the wall making the whole caravan shudder. Groaning and dazed, she tries to get to her feet.

  ‘Get out!’ Grace screams at him as I run to help Mum.

  He turns and steps out of the caravan. Grace tries to shut the door on him but he forces it open with his foot, pushing her away. Picking up a large rusty can, he pours what looks like dirty water over the carpet inside.

  As a horrid petrol smell hits me, he clicks on a lighter and tosses it into the air above the soaked carpet, which becomes a wall of flames, then he quickly slams the door shut. Grace grabs the handle, frantically trying to push open the door as we hear the key rattle in the lock.

  I try to stamp out the flames but it’s hopeless as within seconds they’ve spread and black smoke is starting to engulf the van. The smoke alarm is screeching madly. Bruno leaps about terrified. As Mum staggers to her feet, I dive at the window, and wrestle with the catch, but it won’t open.

  Grace tries another window.

  ‘They’re locked!’ I yell thumping on the glass. ‘We can’t get out!’

  Outside we see Susan, appearing from her caravan then rushing over as she realises something’s wrong. I s
hout and scream. Bruno’s barking madly, but Grace picks up the quilt from the floor. She wraps it around her feet and bracing herself against the back of the bench seat, kicks furiously against the window.

  ‘Ellie, help me!’ she yells.

  I sit next to her and we kick hard until suddenly the window gives, and a fierce cold wind rushes in, feeding and fanning the flames.

  ‘Quickly!’

  Coughing and spluttering, we half drag, half pull Mum over to the window and help her through it before climbing out after her onto the grass. Bruno springs out too and runs off. I call to him to stop but my voice is lost in the wind. The whole van is engulfed in bright orange flames now.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Mum asks.

  ‘We’re OK,’ Grace tells her as Susan calls nine-nine-nine on her mobile.

  As Bruno disappears up the path towards the stones, I set off after him.

  ‘Ellie! Wait!’ Grace calls, catching me up. ‘I saw Dad run up that way,’ she tells me.

  ‘I don’t care,’ I shout back as we see a huge streak of lightning spike down ahead of us. ‘Bruno’s petrified. I’ve got to get him.’

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ she says.

  We get to the stone circle just as a terrific crash of thunder sounds. Bruno is cowering against the tallest Maid, his eyes wide with fear. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I can sense the tingling of electricity in the air as another bolt of lightning fires angrily down from the sky.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I tell Bruno, crouching down next to him, stroking him gently.

  Suddenly I’m being yanked up from behind by a dark shadow. I turn to see Dad. I scream, struggling madly, but he’s caught me tight. Grace runs over and batters his back with her fists, trying to make him loosen his grip on me.

  As he spins around to snatch her too, I jab my elbows into him and kick out as hard as I can. He yells with rage, letting go of me for a second. Grace and I dive around the back of the Maid. He swears angrily, determined to grab us as the tall stone creaks, wobbling like a loose tooth. There’s a yell from Grace who pulls me backwards as the stone suddenly topples.

  Instead of trying to get out of its way, Dad irritably tries to push it to one side but it’s much heavier than he thinks. The stone crashes against him, pushing him to the ground, pinning him down. Blood seeps through his shirt, staining it bright red.

  ‘Dad!’ I yell.

  There’s no reply. I’m convinced he’s dead until I see a few of his fingers twitch slightly and hear him groan. He’s hurt, badly. I squat down and try to lift the huge rock, but it’s way too heavy.

  ‘Grace, help me!’ I shout.

  She hesitates for a second then kneels beside me and together we lift the stone off him.

  Grace pulls off her school jumper, rolls it up and gently puts it under his head. ‘We need to get help.’

  As if in answer, we hear sirens, becoming louder by the second. We stare at him, alarmed as his eyes open, wide with fear.

  ‘It’s all right. Keep still,’ I tell him as he breathes heavily.

  I take his hand and hold it in mine. And I’m confused because it’s soft and white and flabby, not at all like the hard fist that used to punch and hit Mum.

  Chapter 62

  Grace

  In the end we don’t need to go for help. Help comes to us. Mum first.

  Ellie bursts into tears when she sees her. ‘Why does he hate us so much?’ she asks, as Mum checks Dad’s pulse. His eyes are closed and he seems to be unconscious.

  ‘I don’t know, sweetheart,’ she says.

  ‘But what have we ever done to him to make him so angry all the time?’

  ‘Nothing. You’ve done nothing.’

  ‘Then why?’

  Dad opens his eyes. ‘He used to hit me,’ he mutters.

  Mum, Ellie and I look at each other, confused.

  ‘Who?’ Ellie asks.

  The lids of his eyes slowly close and nothing happens for a long time. Finally his lips move. No words come out at first and we keep sitting in silence. Then he gives a kind of shudder and speaks hoarsely. ‘I’d hide but he’d always find me. She’d tell him where I was.’

  ‘Who hit you, Dad?’ Ellie asks again.

  ‘My dad.’ He whispers it so quietly we can barely hear him.

  A lump comes to my throat. We never knew this. Dad always said he’d had the perfect parents. Why didn’t he tell us the truth? I look at Mum – did she know? Her face tells me not. Tears are streaking down her cheeks, washing away the blood and grime.

  ‘You could have been different with us, Adam,’ she says. ‘You had a choice. You didn’t have to tell the same story.’

  He doesn’t reply but lies helplessly in front of us as four policemen arrive, one armed with what looks like a gun. They tell us to step away from Dad and shout warnings at him not to move or they’ll use their taser.

  ‘He can’t – he’s hurt,’ Ellie says but they don’t listen. We’re quickly ushered away and taken back to the field. We stand at a distance, watching the firemen put out the flames of our burning caravan. Someone puts Gran’s quilt, battered and dirty, around our shoulders. Mum, Ellie and I huddle under it with Bruno, shivering in the rain as the storm rumbles off into the distance.

  Stan arrives and Mum tells him she’s sorry for what’s happened.

  ‘I should have done more,’ he mutters, shaking his head. ‘Right from when I first saw you, I had a gut feeling something was wrong. Didn’t like to interfere, see. That’s the trouble. Too busy minding my own business.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Mum tells him.

  ‘No, but I might have been able to help. The more people who know what’s going on, the better.’

  Susan takes us back to her caravan where she and one of the police officers make us hot drinks. We sit sipping mugs of tea sweetened with honey, answering his questions as the rain rattles down on the roof. An hour later he drives us down to the police station where we tell our story once more and answer more questions and the same questions all over again.

  It’s late when Stan arrives. Mum thanks him and tells him we can go to the women’s refuge but he insists that we come home with him and stay the night there. Mum rings the refuge and explains what’s happened, then Stan drives us back to his house where Daphne is waiting. She hugs each of us in turn, makes a fuss of Bruno then takes Ellie and I into one spare bedroom and shows Mum to another.

  I don’t realise how exhausted I am until my head hits the pillow. I look over at Ellie but she’s already fast asleep.

  When I wake, my watch says it’s gone lunchtime but I can smell bacon frying. Ellie’s still asleep so I try to get out of bed really quietly but she hears me and opens her eyes. With a puzzled expression, she glances down at the long pink nightie she’s wearing then does a double take at me wearing a similar one in pale blue. Outside in the garden, drying in the wind, gran’s quilt is pegged on the washing line, together with the clothes we were wearing last night.

  ‘You OK?’ I ask Ellie.

  As she slowly nods, there’s a tap on the door. It’s Mum. She’s wearing one of Daphne’s dressing gowns, a fleecy creation in pale yellow.

  ‘There’s someone here to see us,’ she says quietly.

  I exchange looks with Ellie, thinking we’re going to have to answer yet more questions, when a face I instantly recognise appears behind Mum.

  ‘Auntie Anna!’ Ellie exclaims.

  ‘Karin phoned me early this morning. I jumped in the car and drove straight here,’ she explains, giving us both a hug. ‘Thank God you’re all right.’

  Daphne calls us into a sunny dining room where a table is laid for breakfast. We all sit down together to eat and talk for the next couple of hours.

  Mum tells Anna she’s sorry for not staying in touch and bursts into tears. Anna hugs her and starts crying too, telling her she’s got nothing to be sorry for, she should have done more – that they were sisters and always would be. Soon we’re all cryi
ng except Stan who just noisily blows his nose a couple of times into a big white hanky then disappears into the kitchen saying he’ll make more coffee.

  Once Mum has told Auntie Anna everything that has happened, they start to talk about happier times, when they came here on holiday with Gran and Grandad. They tell us about seal watching and the picnics on the beach, toasting marshmallows over a little driftwood campfire, and the daft talent contest in town that Mum and Anna won, singing together in their matching pink dresses, until no one’s crying any more and the room’s full of laughter.

  Chapter 63

  Ellie

  Anna tells Mum she’ll take the week off and stay with us. We spend the rest of the day at Stan and Daphne’s house. School isn’t even mentioned. Late in the afternoon, Mum and Anna go out for a couple of hours and when they come back, Mum announces that with Lisa’s help they’ve found a small, furnished cottage for us to rent and we’re moving in that evening.

  Daphne and Stan come with us, bringing carrier bags full of food and practical stuff like shampoo, soap and toothbrushes. Lisa turns up an hour later with bedding, towels and a bag of clothes from the refuge, as we have nothing but the things we were wearing yesterday and Gran’s quilt. Everything else has been burnt in the fire.

  There are two bedrooms upstairs in the little cottage, a downstairs bathroom behind the kitchen and a cosy sitting room. It doesn’t take us long to unpack the few bits and pieces and make ourselves at home. Anna and Mum hang up the quilt in the sitting room, where it covers most of one wall. Bruno sniffs around all the rooms and then stretches out happily on the rug in the sitting room, in front of the wood-burner. After living in a cramped caravan for so many weeks this tiny cottage seems like a mansion.

  The next day, Grace and I go back to school, the smoke and grime washed out of our school uniforms. As we walk through the school gates, Grace sees Ryan and hurries over to him. I spot Cait chatting with Abs, Ruby, Shareen and Freya. When she sees me, she waves frantically and they all run over.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Abs asks. ‘We heard all sorts of stuff.’