Eden Summer

by Liz Flanagan

  ‘A kind of suicide note – apologizing to her parents—’ Mum’s voice breaks off and I can hear her fighting tears. ‘And the same sort of thing in her diary …’

  ‘No. She can’t have. She wouldn’t. It wasn’t, Mum, I know it.’ I hang on to what I’m saying, willing it to be true, denying any other possibility. But I’ve still got that diary lock in my pocket, and it begs to differ.

  ‘I know, Jess, I know. But maybe, we should prepare ourselves …’

  ‘No! I’m not giving up. How can you even say that?’

  ‘Jess, I promise you, I’m not giving up.’ Her voice is stronger now, on safer ground. ‘They’re organizing search teams, alongside the police. Coordinating volunteers down the town hall. I’m going there now. Come and meet me?’

  I hesitate. Part of me wants to go, to be part of something bigger than me, to stop making decisions. To be near Mum, to let her look after me.

  I look up the valley, at the cascading river and the shadowy paths. I see someone, just upstream, in a blue T-shirt and jeans.

  Liam. Coming for me.

  ‘I’ll meet you later, OK? There’s something I need to do first. I’ll keep my phone on.’

  ‘Jess? No! Don’t you hang up on me. Jess!’

  I end the call. I’ll deal with the consequences later. There will be hell to pay, and I’ll pay it gladly, once Eden’s back. Till then, everything else can wait.

  There’s something else that bothers me. Mum’s angry, sure, but she’s not as worried for me, not like she was this morning. She doesn’t think anyone else hurt Eden. She’s not frantic about a random nutter stalking teenage girls. She thinks Eden did this to herself. She thinks Eden’s gone.

  She isn’t gone. She isn’t! But I remember Eden’s face when she saw the tarot cards, as if she was cursed. As if this was her fate, her punishment or something. What if she made it come true, just by believing it? What do they call it? A self-fulfilling prophecy.

  I stand there, feeling very cold, waiting for Liam to reach me. The sun has gone behind the hill. I hold on to the cool stone of the bridge, watching the water rushing away from me, taking away my hope.

  He gets close. He looks like himself again. Some of the weight has gone from his shoulders. His face is softer. ‘I’m sorry about before …’ Then he sees me properly. ‘What is it, Jess? What did they say?’

  And I can’t help it. I can’t hold it in. The tears come hot and fast.

  ‘I didn’t … I can’t … I don’t know where she is. They think Eden hurt herself. That her last text was saying goodbye.’ I’m twisting away from him, trying to escape it, but it’s the truth and I can’t. Through my tears I tell him, ‘Liam, we let her down. I can’t say sorry. I can’t find her and I don’t know what to do …’ Then there’s no more talking from me. The sobs come from somewhere very deep down. They make my shoulders and ribcage shake. They hurt. They fold me over and crumple me up like a piece of scrap paper.

  Liam catches my hand. He holds me, all creased up and crying against him. He draws me in close and we sink together. We fall on the dusty ground, right there on the bridge. I feel his hands on my hair, on my back, on my face. And it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels right. It feels like home. It feels like the only thing I have left.

  Part Three

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  6.25 p.m.

  We pull apart from our collapsed hug. I’m exhausted from the crying. I crawl over to lean against the bridge. We sit there, in the gathering dusk, with the river’s endless song filling the silence between us. My leg rests against his and it anchors me again.

  Eventually I start telling Liam about that Friday on the residential. About me, Barwell, Eden, right here on this bridge. ‘If me and Barwell hadn’t got there, who knows? She was messed up. Pissed. Guilty. Blaming herself for the accident and the attack.’

  ‘But you did get there. And she was OK, for a bit. We were there for her, weren’t we?’ Liam sounds like he needs convincing. ‘Even when she pushed us away.’

  ‘I should’ve been able to help her, like she helped me,’ I say, still damp and hot and full of self-blame. ‘But what if we didn’t? What if we weren’t enough? How can I live with myself, if …’ I can’t say it. I can’t utter the words she’s dead, in case it makes it true. ‘And after what we did …’

  ‘I know,’ Liam says. ‘I feel the same. I feel like such a …’ He swears. ‘I was supposed to be her boyfriend. Great job I made of that.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’ It’s so much easier to say that about someone else. ‘We’re all in it together. It’s like, like … when climbers get roped together.’ I picture the three of us: me, Eden, Liam, knotted together on an icy rock face, with a blizzard blowing around us.

  ‘What? She falls, we all fall? Nice one, Jess.’

  ‘No! She falls and we stop her, pull her up – isn’t that the point of the rope? I just hope I’m bloody strong enough, cos otherwise we’re all going down.’ And somewhere deep down I know it’s true. We need to save Eden, cos we love her. But also because saving her is the only thing that can save us.

  He doesn’t reply.

  ‘I’m sorry. For the slap. Just for the record: I don’t do that. And I don’t think it’s OK—’

  ‘Jess, it’s all right. I know that. It’s not exactly a normal day.’ He turns to me in the fading light and gives me a quick flash of something like a smile. ‘What a mess.’

  I wonder what it’d be like – me and him – without any of this crap going on. But it’s not like we exist, perfect pure versions of ourselves, off in a laboratory somewhere. I can’t separate how I feel for him from how I feel for Eden or how he feels about Eden. It’s tangled up together. So tangled, so messy; I don’t know how to sort out the knots without hurting someone.

  ‘We’ve got to keep looking. Where do we go now?’ He checks his phone: its display lights up the gloom. ‘They’ll be setting up that full-moon party. Dark soon. How about we go that way, have a look there – then back to town, join the official search?’

  I shrug. ‘I was going to check the river near her old house. They loved it there. It was Iona’s favourite … But yeah, we’re running out of time. Let’s do your plan.’ It’s the best one we’ve got – it’s even got three parts – and I text Mum, to let her know.

  We turn up the valley and take well-worn footpaths under the trees. We’re not the only ones. Soon the darkening woods are full of shadows, torchlight and laughter, people carrying rugs, bags clinking with bottles. Any other night, this would be perfect.

  I check my phone again. There’s five hours left of the twenty-four since she was last seen. I know that the longer it goes on, the less chance there is of finding her.

  Eden? Eden? Can you hear me? Come back. Come back to us. To your parents. To Liam. Or to Tyler. To me. No one will care where you’ve been or what you’ve done. As long as you’re OK.

  We walk single file and Liam must find it easier to talk that way. ‘Jess, about last Saturday …’ he starts, speaking over his shoulder.

  Straight for the killer subject. ‘Uh-huh?’ I manage to mumble over the pounding of my heart.

  ‘I know the timing’s all wrong. I know it. And I know what it looks like, that I can’t be trusted …’

  That applies to me too, but he doesn’t seem to have clocked that.

  ‘But it’s not like that. I mean, you’ve always been there, but I didn’t see you till now. Not properly. And yeah, I was flattered when Eden asked me out. I mean, Eden Holby – who wouldn’t be?’

  The full moon has risen over the hill. Fat and yellow. Harvest moon. The valley transforms in the leafy magical half-light.

  I hurry after Liam so I don’t miss a word.

  ‘And it was good for a bit. We had fun. But I’d already decided to stop it, back in May. Cos we don’t really get each other, not really. She’s always pushing it. Eden doesn’t hear me. She’d never admit it in a million years, but deep down, she thinks I’m not the same a
s her, not as good.’

  ‘No, she doesn’t,’ I tell him. ‘That’s all in your head.’

  ‘Even if it is! Still doesn’t work, does it?’

  ‘Were you really going to finish it?’

  He’s stopped. We stand in the middle of a grove of beech trees, tall and massive, making it feel like a church or something.

  ‘Yeah, the day of that parade, back in May. Only all that stuff kicked off. So I couldn’t. And then it was June, and, well, you know the rest. After Iona died, it’s like I was stuck. And I’m not a total arse – I did want to look after Eden. But I started to see you. Really see you, Jess. That was the only good thing, this summer, getting close to you. Couldn’t you tell?’

  ‘Oh, good, I’m glad my best friend’s worst nightmare was useful to you! Bloody hell, is that supposed to be flattering? Will you hear yourself?’

  The breeze rustles the leaves and I hear an owl ask ‘Whowho?’ so loud it has to be in the next tree.

  ‘Stop it, Jess. I’m just being trying to be honest. Can’t we keep on wi’ that at least?’ He sighs.

  I know I haven’t been honest, with him or with Eden, all summer long. I meet Liam’s eyes properly. Even frowning – his dark brows telling me he means it – he’s so beautiful it makes me catch my breath. The way he’s looking at me in the silvery light does something to my body that I feel all the way down to my toes, like an electric shock that goes right through me.

  The ferns shiver and I catch movement, above us. The owl launches, wide wings, and floats down the valley like a ghost, leaving us.

  ‘What really happened then, the day of the parade?’ I ask. It’s not my most pressing question, but it’ll keep him talking about Eden – not about us – while we walk up the valley.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  7.21 p.m.

  ‘She didn’t tell you? About her and Iona fighting?’

  ‘Sure. I mean, I knew it was bad,’ I say. The last few weeks before Iona died, their fights had been hideous, I knew that. ‘The whole school knew it. Eden hated that, being gossiped about.’

  ‘That was the worst I’d seen, parade day …’ He starts walking again but slower now, waiting for me to keep pace on the narrow path.

  ‘Tell me everything,’ I say. I was away at my dad’s so I missed the parade for the first time in years. ‘Tell me why it kicked off.’ Maybe there’ll be something in it that can help us now.

  ‘You know how excited she was, right? She’d been practising on her stilts for weeks.’

  ‘I know. And she got one of the best costumes. She was so chuffed to be a phoenix rising, not a penguin or something lame.’

  The Parade We Made happened every year: a sign of early summer, like the clocks changing. Artists had it all designed and they showed you what to do. They made massive sculptures – the showstoppers – eerie, beautiful, unforgettable artworks as big as a house. For just a few quid, you got to join in and make your own little costume: magic conjured from recycled plastic, paint and shiny paper.

  ‘She did good,’ Liam says. ‘The rain stopped just in time. Her crew led the parade. Streets were packed, there were drummers, bands, the lot. She’d got really good on the stilts, so she was dancing along. She looked amazing.’

  Ouch. So I’m jealous now that Eden’s boyfriend thinks she’s gorgeous? Get a grip, Jess.

  ‘She was buzzing, laughing, striding forwards. Till Iona found her, just before the park. Iona and Katie were sitting on the wall, drinking. I was walking next to Eden. Didn’t have a costume, but she gave me one of the flames off her stilts and I just waved it about and kept time with her.’

  I walk slowly and wait for him to continue.

  ‘So, Iona saw Eden coming. Cos she was the tallest, brightest, best thing to see. Iona started up with the abuse, laughing at her, saying she looked like a fat chicken, not a phoenix. And it was OK at first. Eden just blanked her, kept on. She loved those stilts. She was not gonna let it get to her.’

  ‘Iona wouldn’t like that,’ I guessed.

  ‘Too right. You knew her better than me then. Wish I’d seen it coming.’

  ‘What did she do?’

  ‘Iona bloody tripped her, didn’t she? She jumped down, ran out and kicked the stilts. Eden went flying. Face plant. Right in the road, in front of everyone.’

  ‘Yeah, she told me. Lucky she didn’t break something.’

  ‘She was a bit scraped, not too bad. Think they taught them how to fall, with the stilt training. But when Eden got up, she went for Iona, no holds barred. Proper bitch fight, in the middle of the crowd. Iona’s all “You wouldn’t catch me dressing up like some toddler’s party” and Eden’s like “You’re no part of this. No one wants you here, you don’t belong.”’

  ‘Iona tries to push her off, telling Eden she’s just jealous, but I can see Eden’s got to her.

  ‘She keeps at it. Eden tells Iona, “Stop pretending you don’t know. That’s the real joke here. You know you don’t belong.” I’m trying to pull Eden off Iona, but I’ve got no idea what she’s on about.

  ‘And Iona’s face changes. I can see something is really, badly wrong. Iona tries to hide it, calling Eden a bullshitter, but Eden keeps on at her and that’s when Iona goes ballistic.

  ‘She whacks Eden, right in the face. Eden’s nose starts bleeding and she’s screeching at Iona and they’re both covered in blood and everyone’s watching and this kid starts crying. It’s total chaos. And that’s when Eden says it …’

  ‘Says what?’ I ask slowly, waiting for the bombshell.

  ‘Eden says, “You’re not my blood. See this – it’s not the same as yours, is it? You’re no sister of mine. You’re nothing and you know it.”’

  ‘And I think she knows she’s gone too far, cos she lets me pull her away into the schoolyard, and I get her to sit down and stop the nosebleed, and she’s white as a sheet, and there’s blood splashed everywhere, over us both.’

  ‘So, wait, what was she saying?’ I have to get this right. We pause again, in the moonlit woods. Everything seems to have slowed down. The sound of the river fills my head, making it hard to think properly. ‘That Iona is not her blood? What’s that about?’ I can’t compute the words.

  ‘I dunno. I thought it was their usual drama getting out of hand. Rejecting Iona for being such a bitch, I guess. I just stayed with Eden, tried to calm her down. We went and sat by the river. She was a mess though. So, you see, I couldn’t add to it. I couldn’t break up with her then, could I?’

  I’ve stopped listening, trying to piece it all together.

  Iona is not Eden’s blood.

  Eden finding three passports, back in May. And some papers.

  What made Iona change, so suddenly?

  With a jolt, it clicks into place, the kind of pattern I’ve been looking for.

  I tug at Liam: ‘Listen. Could it be this: what if Iona was adopted? And Eden wasn’t? It happens.’

  I read a magazine article in one of the endless doctors’ waiting rooms, about a couple having IVF, nothing working. Then right after they gave up trying and adopted a kid, the woman fell pregnant naturally. Like being a mum already just flicked the body’s switch. What if that happened to Claire?

  I tell this to Liam. ‘What if Iona found out, and that’s why she took against Eden all of a sudden? Cos they used to get on, and then it all changed. Cos of that bombshell: Iona was adopted; Eden was the birth child.’

  ‘It fits with the blood thing …’

  ‘It’s got to be something that big. Iona wasn’t a bitch, not before. But how do you get around something like that? That must be what they argued about, the night Iona died.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  I’m sideswiped by the unfairness of it. ‘Everyone screws up sometimes. Every family is messed up in its own way: me and Mum, our little two-wheel family. You and your massive busload. You just bump along, doing your best, hoping they know you love them really.’

  ‘Yeah, sounds about right.’ Liam pau
ses by a stile. He goes first, up three stone steps built into the wall, and then he halts at the top. ‘We’re nearly there. Look!’

  Just over the next ridge, higher up the valley, there’s a light streaming through the trees, flicking on and off. Liam’s silhouette is outlined against the light: red, then blue, then yellow, pulsing in time to a beat we can’t hear yet.

  ‘You ready for this bit, Jess? It’s gonna be busy. Do you want more time?’ he asks.

  ‘We don’t have any, remember? Go on, let me through.’

  The last part is the most dangerous. The path enters the ruins of the old mills. There’s a solitary chimney poking up out of the undergrowth. I pick my way across crumbling walls and half-buried slabs of stone.

  I have to focus. It’s a kind of relief to come back to something so demanding and physical and real. I need to look down, not miss a step, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts and images flying around my mind.

  If Iona was adopted, would Eden chuck it in her face?

  Iona crying, hurting, driving, until—

  If it circles my head on a loop, what’s it been like for Eden, all summer?

  The path gets precarious, about a metre wide, running along the top of a high stone wall.

  ‘You got a torch, Jess? Be careful.’

  ‘Run this way a hundred times.’ But I put my phone torch on, just to be sure. To our left is a sheer drop, metres down, to the rushing river. To the right are shallow pools, scuzzily dank, covered with lime-green algae and edged with tall weeds. ‘Shall I go first?’ I pretend to be brave, but I remember as a kid needing to be carried along this skinny little ledge of a path. ‘I always think how weird it is, that people worked here once. Back when this was all modern and new.’

  ‘I like it. How quickly the woods grew back. A hundred years ago, this would’ve been dead busy. Now look at it.’

  ‘Yeah, makes you think, if we stopped now, how quickly we’d be covered over. Like that film, after everyone dies?’

  ‘Yeah, and I bet when they closed the mills, it must’ve seemed like the end of the world.’ Liam’s with me. He gets it. ‘And now there’s a party in the ruins.’