Eden Summer

by Liz Flanagan

  I bobbed after her more slowly, using my crap breaststroke, old-lady-style, head above water.

  Liam’s mates started jeering and pointing. ‘You’re in fer it now, mate!’

  ‘Watch out for this one – that’s Eden Holby.’

  Eden hauled herself to her feet, streaming water, and marched towards him, hardly slowed by the uneven rocks, chin jutting, pulling the ball out. ‘Your ball? How do you like it?’ And she pulled her arm back and threw it straight at his head, from barely a metre away.

  Liam didn’t duck. He caught the ball, then froze, keeping it lifted. He was wearing just a pair of long baggy blue shorts, nothing else, and he didn’t flinch in the face of her fury. His arm pulled back, like a loaded catapult.

  ‘Good shot. Fair point. We quits now, or what?’ His pale muscled chest rose and fell.

  They stood there, glaring at each other, head to head, without speaking.

  Liam’s mates waited, not daring to crack another joke till they saw which way it went.

  Finally Eden moved and pulled her glance away, scanning their stuff. ‘See them packets of salt and vinegar? Give me one. Then we’re quits.’

  The tension broke up and rippled away to nothing. By the time I got out, Eden was sitting in the middle of the lads, passing a packet of crisps around and laughing so hard at something Liam said that she sprayed herself with salty crumbs.

  ‘Jess, where’ve you been? Hey, so I met the famous Liam Caffrey you’ve been telling me about …’

  ‘Hi, Jess, all right?’ Liam’s smile was bright and cloudless.

  I smiled and waved and went to sit down with them, trying to work out why I felt as if something had been snatched away from me.

  Chapter Ten

  11.00 a.m.

  ‘Eden and Liam. They got together in May. They were good for a bit, till June. Then, after Iona died …’ I pause. It’s hard putting it into words. ‘Well, it’s like, me and Liam have been looking after Eden all summer.’

  The police officers write this down. I see Owl-lady notice Mum nodding along, backing me up.

  ‘Do you get on with Liam?’

  Flush. Burn. I nod, then lift my cup, taking scalding sips of tea so I don’t have to meet their eyes.

  ‘What’s he like, Liam Caffrey?’ Sleek-lady asks this one, casually.

  I take a moment to consider all the different Liams, trying to bring them into one focused image.

  Liam at work: steady, calm, capable. Him and the head chef, Dev, are a proper team, chopping, flipping, stirring, testing, building it all high and fancy on the plates like they do on the telly, and laughing at themselves for the effort.

  Liam this summer: with me and Eden. Funny. Relaxed. Loving her so well, until … Liam at school: sullen, hunched, sweary. On a hair trigger: ready to erupt.

  ‘He’s sound. Really.’ It sounds pathetic, but how do you sum anyone up in just a few words?

  ‘You know he attacked someone?’ Sleek-lady gets her claws out. Miaow.

  ‘I heard he did something.’ I turn defensive. Liam was missing from school for weeks, and I never found out precisely which of the rumours were true. ‘But I bet he had a good reason. That Josh Clarkson is a nightmare.’

  ‘Jess!’ Mum’s shocked.

  ‘So you’re saying that you trust Liam Caffrey, despite his history?’ Sleek-lady sounds like she thinks that is an unwise thing to do.

  ‘Totally.’ I ignore the irritating nag of suspicion tugging at my mind like a whiny kid. So what if Liam has a temper? So what if Liam hit someone? We all make mistakes. It doesn’t mean anything.

  Sleek-lady scribbles something, then smiles again and chucks in a hand grenade. ‘We know about the party last Saturday.’

  Tea. Gulping. ‘So?’

  Mum’s frowning. I know she wants me to cooperate.

  ‘Tell us how Eden was last Saturday night. Who she spoke to. How she behaved.’

  I stall. The police did right by me last year. I didn’t even have to enter the courtroom. Evidence by video link. A conviction. So I should do right by them now. But this isn’t my story to tell. What if Eden’s about to walk back in, and I’ve told all her secrets to the police? But what if she’s really in trouble and the police don’t figure it out in time cos of something I hid?

  ‘OK. There was a party. Mum, you know that – when her folks were called away to Eden’s nan, the one who lives down south. They let her stay behind cos they didn’t realize how poorly her grandma was. When they phoned to say they’d be away overnight, Eden took the chance to party. That’s all! You can hardly blame her for wanting a good time, after everything she’s been through!’

  I know my tone’s gone what Mum calls belligerent, but it is starting to feel like we’re on trial here: me, Eden, Liam.

  ‘Did Eden drink or take drugs?’ Owl-lady asks casually.

  Ouch.

  ‘It’s important that you tell us if she took anything on Saturday night. We’re trying to build a picture of Eden’s state of mind in the days leading up to her disappearance.’

  Her disappearance. I feel sick then. It’s sinking in deeper. Every minute that passes there is less chance of this script having a happy ending. This isn’t a cliffhanger episode of a soap after all. This might be a darker story, one of those crime shows after 9 p.m. This might not come good.

  Decision time. Truth or fudge?

  I picture Eden: frightened, alone. Or worse: not alone.

  ‘OK.’ I finish the sweet grainy dregs at the bottom of my mug and launch into the story of last weekend. Edited.

  It was a long day in the café on Saturday for our last shift of the summer. Every time I dashed to the kitchen, Liam had some quip ready with the hot food.

  ‘Here. Beanburgers for the vegans on table four. Beefburgers for the carnivores on table two. Or is it the other way round?’ he grinned wickedly. ‘Bluff or double bluff? No tips for you if you’re wrong.’

  ‘Give it a rest. I can tell the difference. You just watch me.’ I collected the plates, showing off with three up my arm, and sailed through the double doors.

  My body felt tired from the work, but high with it too. I was buzzing from the dance of waitressing. I didn’t mind the talking and the smiling. I didn’t mind the heavy plates or the heat of the kitchen. I liked that it was straightforward. The tourists didn’t know me. To them I was a function, not a freak. Best of all, it left no time to think.

  When we’d finished, Liam emerged from the kitchen, flushed from the heat. I passed over his share of the coins I’d been counting. ‘Record tips. You can thank me later.’

  ‘Ah, Jess. You rock. Nice work.’

  ‘What can I say? We’re a good team.’

  His smile was the best reward, but I made myself look away and grab my phone. ‘Come on, Eden’s texted. She’ll be wondering where we’ve got to.’

  We went out into the sunshine to find Eden in the park.

  ‘Bank holiday weekend starts here,’ I said, stealing a glance up at Liam’s face. He reminded me of a cat or a fox: something sleek, with hidden teeth. Yes, a fox, that was it, with those slanting cheekbones, angled towards me.

  He’d changed – jeans and a faded red T-shirt – with his chef’s whites in his backpack to wash. I’d switched my work shirt for my favourite T. Now I shook my hair down and put my studs back in.

  ‘Yep. Don’t even think about Tuesday. Deal?’ He offered me his fist. His eyebrows were telling me it was time to play.

  ‘Deal.’ I tapped his knuckles with mine, and it didn’t even cause a ripple. Maybe I was getting better.

  I crossed the street with Liam. It felt good, being by his side. We sank into being off-duty, like sliding into a deep bath. It was one of those long hot summer Saturdays when the concrete soaked up the heat and served it back to you at dusk like a bonus. Sergei in the ice-cream van still had a long queue. That idiot Jack Greenwood from Year Eight had just dive-bombed into the canal in his jeans, his daft mates cheering. We dodged aimless touris
ts, still drifting like clouds of midges around the park gates.

  Eden was perched on the back of a bench at the edge of the skate park where it met the kids’ playground. The dividing line was one thin red railing. Eden was picking idly at the peeling paint, flicking off the dry flakes like giant scabs. She saw us and uncurled herself slowly, then came over to hug us both in turn, Liam first. She was wearing cut-off denim shorts that my mum would say were too short and a blue daisy-print vest, blood-red lipstick and black sunglasses. She looked stunning.

  I ran one hand over my face and hair, feeling suddenly greasy and stale from the café. I followed Eden’s gaze. She was watching some strangers through the iron bars.

  ‘What’s up?’ I asked.

  ‘Losers.’ Liam dismissed them.

  The lads were about our age, a handful of them, but not from around here. They were sitting in the playground before all the little kids and parents left for the night. They’d brought loud music and cans of cider in plastic bags, and they were skinning up at a picnic table with no effort to hide it.

  You didn’t do that. Not in a town this small. The news would get home before I did.

  ‘Good day at work, dears?’ Eden turned her attention back to us, her voice sneering and sarcastic.

  My heart sank. You never knew which Eden you were going to get, since Iona. Mum sat me down and explained it, so I knew it was normal, that grief meant anger and denial.

  I braced myself, shields up. ‘Yeah, not bad. Bit busy. Good tips at least.’

  Liam laughed at that. Private joke.

  I smiled back at him, but Eden jumped in quickly, taking control again. ‘Finally, your last shift! You’re all mine now!’ Her voice had an edge that made me wonder how much she’d minded us working together, without her. ‘Free till school on Tuesday.’

  ‘Shh. No one mention the S-word. Me and Jess already struck that deal.’ Liam stretched out on the bench, all long limbs and broad shoulders.

  I sat awkwardly apart on one side, while Eden threw herself down on the other and cosied into Liam’s chest.

  ‘I’m in. We’re free! Free-eee … to feel good!’ she sang, from an old song they’d been playing in the café that summer. ‘Come on – let’s do something. It’s our last Saturday of freedom. And guess what – my parents aren’t coming home tonight after all.’

  I sat up and looked at them. Liam rolled his eyes in my direction, eyebrows raised in alert: not unkind, just putting us both on standby. We’d had to develop a kind of shorthand for looking after Eden this summer. It was clearly going to be one of those days.

  Eden jumped up. She started climbing over the iron railings, ignoring their pointed tips.

  ‘Bloody hell, Eden, can’t you just go around like a normal person?’ But he vaulted after her, one-handed, making it look easy.

  I sighed and took the long way round, that didn’t invlove gymnastics. When I walked through the gates, Eden was in the centre of the new gang. They circled her, fascinated. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, delivering a punchline that made them all laugh.

  I smothered a flare of anger, wondering whether I should just walk away now and head home. New people made me edgy. Eden knew that, but this summer she was selfish. With good reason. I hated myself for even thinking it.

  I looked at the strangers more closely. The leader seemed to be a tall lad, very cool in his designer vest, baggy shorts and gold jewellery standing out against his dark skin. He had the added glamour of being new – plus huge brown eyes and a wide, white smile – and I watched Eden home in on that, laughing and flirting on full beam.

  She was ignoring Liam, who waited at the edge like a restless golden Labrador.

  ‘Hey, this is Tyler. He’s just moved here,’ she called out to us. ‘Tyler, meet Liam ’n’ Jess.’ The way she said it made it sound like we were a unit, and I wondered if she’d done that on purpose, to free her up.

  ‘Hi,’ I muttered, keeping a wary distance.

  Liam nodded without speaking.

  ‘So, E-den—’ Tyler said it slowly, like it tasted sweet – ‘what is there to do after dark in this little town?’

  I snorted. See how she coped with that one. There were old men’s pubs, a gay women’s bar, the one club.

  ‘All back to mine?’ Eden offered. ‘Folks are away. Eden will play. Liam can bring the tunes,’ she sang.

  ‘A party? For me? We only just met. I heard you northern girls ain’t shy.’ Tyler was pushing his luck. His mates laughed, egging him on. ‘We won’t say no, will we, lads?’

  Liam stepped closer. ‘It’s not for you, it’s for Eden,’ he growled.

  Eden preened, delighted by the tension, looking from Liam to Tyler and back again.

  ‘Eden, no!’ I didn’t like it. I hated this mood. It was one thing with me or Liam, pushing us, winding us up, to distract her from the darkness in her own head, but not with strangers. They wouldn’t know to be careful with her.

  ‘You got that wrong, Jess,’ she taunted me. ‘You mean: Eden, yes. Today Eden only says yes.’ Her eyes held Tyler’s, dancing with mischief.

  She was too far gone to think of me. To remember that I’m not good with big groups or strangers, and why …

  ‘Yes sounds good. A party sounds better. Here, to get you started.’ Tyler leaned in close to Eden as he passed over something hidden inside his cupped hand.

  I knew she didn’t usually smoke, but she wasn’t going to drop the banter this far into the game. ‘Yes. Why not?’ She narrowed her eyes and blew out smoke – I inhaled the sweet, rich, herbal scent of skunk. There’d be no stopping her now.

  I bit my lip. I had to be careful how I played it. If I pushed it and she barred me, I couldn’t look out for her.

  Liam scowled, but stayed silent. I wondered if he was having the same battle.

  ‘Whatever.’ I shrugged, decision made. For Eden’s sake, I was in. I was on board for whatever crazy night she had planned. ‘When are they back? Monday? Got two days to clean up …’ I kept my tone as light as hers, not passing judgement.

  She got her phone out and her thumb flitted over its surface. She pressed hard, one last time, and looked up, grinning. ‘Done. It’s live. Don’t worry, I invited you, Jess. Liam, you get the lead slot on the decks. Now help me out, will you? We’ve got an hour and a half to prepare the party of our lives.’

  Chapter Eleven

  And she did it too. We got a taxi up to Eden’s place, leaving the others to follow on later, calling at Liam’s for the decks and speakers, scooping up his mate Aziz along the way.

  ‘Where’re your mum and dad?’ I asked as we barged in, carrying boxes of records – these boys favoured vinyl. The house was very quiet, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Liam and Az followed on our heels, lugging a massive speaker between them.

  ‘Nan’s been taken ill again. She’s in hospital.’

  ‘Really sorry, E.’

  Eden blanked the sympathy. No change there.

  ‘I got a pass out, ’s long as I eat dinner with Mrs Coates next door. But I just texted her to say I can’t make it.’

  ‘She’ll hear the music,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Yeah, but you know what? I’m still playing the dead-sister card. Gets me out of all kinds of crap. Come on!’

  I felt a gathering sense of dread, storm clouds rolling in. This wasn’t right. Eden wasn’t right. I knew she loved her nan. Could the real Eden Holby please come back? It seemed like a faint possibility.

  I joined Eden in her manic party prep, while Liam and Az set up the music. To be fair, Eden managed to lock most of the nickable stuff in her dad’s office. Then we pushed back the furniture in the huge living room, hiding it beneath old bedsheets, and moved the table and chairs in the dining room opposite.

  Liam set up his DJ booth in the hall that joined them, and this became the dance floor, spilling off left to right into each room.

  We filled the sink with ice, and Eden packed it with bottles of beer and spirits stol
en from the cellar. She found a ball of string in one of the kitchen drawers and tied it across the wide staircase like a giant spider web to stop people from exploring upstairs.

  ‘See! All thought through. It’s going to be fine,’ she told me triumphantly. Her eyes were already glassy, her pupils massive and inky. ‘Now our turn!’ she pulled me up the staircase and we had to crawl under the string web, giggling.

  ‘You know the only good thing about having a dead sister?’ Eden called over her shoulder, once we were through.

  I flinched at her words.

  ‘Two wardrobes are better than one!’ She marched into Iona’s room. I leaned on the doorframe, watching as she flung Iona’s wardrobe doors wide and started flicking through her stuff.

  I remembered Iona’s room had always been tidy, but now it was a museum piece, frozen in time. It gave me a weird feeling, seeing all her stuff waiting for her – her posters and photos pinned up on the walls, her hairbrush and bottles of nail varnish on the window ledge, her necklaces and scarves draped over the mirror, the bright red throw and cushions on her bed. I glanced behind me into the corridor, half-expecting her to come charging in cursing us.

  Iona wasn’t coming. She was never coming back to her room. The finality of it made the four walls spin around me. ‘Eden, you sure ’bout this?’ I asked, rubbing a sweaty palm across my forehead.

  ‘Yeah, course. What’s she going to do? Haunt me?’ She kept on flicking through the hangers without turning round. ‘I should tell the world, shouldn’t I? Tell them I’ve got proof that ghosts don’t exist. You can bet your last fiver – if she could, Iona would haunt me twenty-four-seven!’

  When had this happened? It was like Eden’s grief had been pushed down, under the pressure of everything unresolved, and it had changed into something hard and cold, deep down inside her.

  I imagined this unbreakable core, spreading out inside Eden – like a story from one of those old Marvel comics – replacing her flesh and bones till she wasn’t human any more, she was Titanium-Girl, hard and brittle and cruel.