by Louisa Reid
‘Come on, Aud – what are you doing?’ Mum said, dragging my eyes back to her laptop.
‘What shall I put?’ I rested my head on my hand, yawning. Leo had brought a picnic to school. We’d sat at our bench. I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about. I just remembered our ankles, tangled under the table, and his cool strong hand, holding mine, swinging my arm when we walked back inside. Our eyes, locking, as he walked backwards down the corridor because he said he didn’t want to look away, and how all afternoon not a single word a teacher had said had made any sense.
‘Describe what you’re feeling like. Like you do in your diary,’ Mum said. She was close at my shoulder, her breath in my ear.
‘Mum.’ I ground my teeth, crushing the words I wanted to shout. She ignored me.
‘Write about the meds, the therapy with Harry. You can write about me if you like, how I’m your support network. Write about why you cut yourself, why you’re not doing so well at school. How it feels, your depression.’ She leant forward, her elbows on the table. ‘Anything really. It’ll be therapeutic.’
Mum had taken some pictures and I let her load one. If I was supposed to look like shit, then she’d done a good job. The girl in the photo was pale and sickly looking, all skinny long legs and greasy hair. At least my face was a bit blurred.
I started to type.
I’ve been a bit ill, things have got a bit crazy – excuse the crap pun. I can’t really explain it – the whole story is way too long – but thanks to my mum I’m doing all right, oh, yeah, and Harry, my therapist. Yeah, I have a therapist now, which I suppose means I truly am INSANE. NUTS. MENTAL. PSYCHO. That’s what they say about people like me, that’s what the kids say at school anyway. Like all I am is a madness, a hideous, frightening thing. But I’m real. I’m a girl and I’m trying to get by, even though I’m scared too. Deep breath. Well, Harry seems all right. Maybe he’ll help.
If I really tried, I could imagine her. This girl, aged sixteen, really screwed up. I imagined her feeling so shit that she wanted to get away from everything, could see no other way to be happy other than by slicing into her skin and setting it alight with blood. I saw the dark stain of that girl in my bedroom window, saw her screaming and bleeding. Her mother rushing her to the doctor. I wrote the story for her. Put her pain into words.
Usually I cut myself to get away, I typed.
Because, and I know this sounds weird, sometimes I feel dead and the pain brings me back to life. Sometimes I think I’m so bad that I need to hurt myself – to dig as hard as I can into my skin, teach it a lesson. But now I’m feeling better. And I hope it lasts. So long as I take my medication, so long as I’m good, maybe I’ll be OK.
It was like the stories they used to make us write in English lessons. Imagine you are Miss Havisham. Write a diary entry explaining what it feels like to set yourself on fire. Until it turned into an essay factory about more things I didn’t understand. The real me? Well, I was saving her for other things.
Mum read through what I’d written.
‘Is that it?’
‘Yeah. What’s the matter?’
‘Well, it’s not really very interesting, is it, Aud? Plus you hardly mention me at all.’
‘Mum, I don’t think you get it. I don’t want to do it. This is all I could come up with.’ My finger hovered over the delete button. She held my wrist, pushed me aside.
‘Right, well, give me a go,’ she said, and I got up and left her to it.
Leo
Nearly two weeks later and Lorraine was downstairs in the kitchen again. She’d become a bit of a regular fixture since the bonfire party, but when she came over Leo tried not to be around. Often there was crying. It got heavy. Sometimes it was about Aud’s dad, who’d left her way before she had Peter. Other times it was about her job and the sick kids she looked after. And today: Audrey. Thoughts of Audrey made him restless. He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t finish a meal, couldn’t read a line without forgetting its beginning, but when he heard Lorraine start, his stomach turned.
‘Audrey’s not good, Sue,’ he heard. ‘Really; she’s seeing things, talking to people who aren’t there. I thought this new medication she’s on would help, and the therapy with Harry. But she never makes progress. We just go round in circles. What if she never gets the help she needs, what if she never gets better? What’s the future for her, Sue?’
His aunt murmured something, Leo couldn’t hear what, but he knew he shouldn’t be listening at doors like a spy. He stepped away, ran back up to his room, then the front door slammed and it was safe to venture out and go for a run. Sue called him into the kitchen, hearing him crashing about. It stank of fags; there were three butts stubbed out in an old pottery ashtray that maybe Sue had made thirty years ago when she was at school. Whisking it away, binning the contents, opening windows, she told him to sit down.
‘Right. So we need to have a chat.’
They didn’t usually have premeditated conversations like this. This was more his mum’s style. Leo swung back on his chair, looking at the ceiling.
‘Lorraine’s pretty worried,’ Sue said. Leo righted himself, sitting up straight.
‘Audrey’s OK, isn’t she?’ He knew she was. He saw her every day at school.
‘It depends how you define OK. You know she self-harms.’
‘Yeah, and?’
‘It’s not our business. It’s up to Lorraine to deal with this. Audrey’s a pretty fragile girl. Lorraine thinks her friendship with you, lovely as it is, might not be helping.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, she’s still hearing these voices, seeing things. Lorraine says maybe psychosis. She’s not happy with the diagnosis. That it’s depression. Audrey’s very anxious and unstable.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning no boyfriends, I’m afraid.’
‘Sue, for the thousandth time. I am not Audrey’s boyfriend. I have not upset her. I am not going to make her cut herself.’ He hoped all of those things, apart from the first, were true. Felt pretty certain.
‘All right, all right, I’m not suggesting you are. It’s just that Lorraine hasn’t been that explicit and of course you can’t ask for the grisly details. I don’t want to upset her. And I think talking about it is hard for her. I get that. The upshot of it is: Lorraine doesn’t want Audrey getting attached to you. She doesn’t think it’ll help, in the long run. Either of you.’
‘Everyone needs friends, Sue.’ Leo returned his aunt’s words to her and folded his arms. No way was this happening.
‘Agreed. But if you can give her some space.’
‘Sure.’ He shrugged, pretended this was cool. ‘Why wouldn’t I? She can have all the space she needs.’ He gestured at the world beyond the kitchen. ‘Just look out there. There’s miles of space.’
Sue gave him one of her looks. ‘You know what I mean, so no need to get all clever, clever.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
‘Just a guess, but I thought you were getting keen.’
Leo stood up. He couldn’t help but grin at the understatement.
‘Is that it? Lecture over?’
His aunt nodded. ‘That’s it.’
Leo pulled on his trainers. It was getting dark and it was cold, but he needed out. Their conversation played in his head, over and over, a really bad record he couldn’t switch off. He wanted to take it and smash it to pieces. It was bullshit. First Sue asked him to make friends, and then when he found someone he liked, someone he could actually talk to, next thing he was being warned off. What the hell? No way would Audrey want her mother interfering with things between them, and he wasn’t going to listen to any of it either. The shock of the night took his breath and, gulping for air, he ran as fast as he could towards the Grange. His daily pilgrimage, whether she was there or not. Just to check, make sure.
Audrey
November got darker but school got better. It was like I had bodyguards: Jen on one side, and then every break, every lunch, Leo. H
e would be waiting outside the classroom, like my timetable was tattooed on his brain or something, and then he’d sling his arm round my shoulders and we’d slope off. The last Monday of the month we wandered along like that, tied up in each other, a cat’s-cradle. I put both arms round his waist and he rested the side of his head against mine as we walked and I felt his brain whirring even through his blue bobble hat. He was always thinking, thinking, thinking.
‘You should be some sort of professor,’ I told him.
‘No, thanks.’
‘What, then? What are you going to do next year?’
‘Next year? I prefer not to think about it. I’m a carpe diem sort of guy.’
I butted his shoulder with my head. ‘Don’t be flipping daft.’
‘Daft?’ He raised his eyebrows in outrage, then spun me into his arms.
‘I’ll show you daft,’ he said, and we stood there in the playground among the footballs and the yelling and the bored kids chewing gum, stood amid the piles of autumn leaves, our foreheads touching, then our cheeks and chins and I wrapped my arms round him, inside his coat, and he pulled me close like that, keeping warm.
It was the rain that woke me up the next morning, tapping and pattering on the window. I ran to the kitchen; Peter had already gone to school. I had a History test and couldn’t be late.
‘Why didn’t you call me?’ I said, hunting for my shoes. ‘Look at the time, Mum.’
Mum was sitting watching telly and knitting. She was making Sue a jumper for Christmas, to thank her for being such a good friend.
‘I thought you needed the rest. You were pacing again, Audrey, all night.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘Yes, you were, and I heard you talking. I’ve been on the phone to the unit. I’m trying to get hold of Harry’
‘Mum, I don’t want to see Harry.’
‘Tough.’
I pulled on a pair of old plimsolls and ran out of the flat down to the lobby, checking the letter box on the way. Today there was a tiny bird. Not a real bird, but another paper creation twisted out of poetry, its wings spread wide, even its tiny feet perfectly fashioned. I made out the words – I, heaven, light, dreams – and I whispered them over and over, trying to decipher the code.
‘What are you doing?’ Mum said, appearing in the doorway behind me, her uniform on.
‘Nothing.’
I hid the bird behind me. It fluttered in my hand.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘get a move on. And get Peter after school – don’t forget.’
‘Course I won’t.’
‘Good. And I’ll get that appointment sorted, right?’ she challenged, her eyes popping at me as if daring me to complain.
‘OK,’ I said, and raced away to school.
That afternoon I stood waiting for Peter at the primary-school gate, wrapping my scarf high round my face so no one would talk to me. I stared across to the college. I’d not seen Leo all day; I’d done extra work at lunchtime with Jen on our English project and Leo had had a meeting with his tutor at break.
Peter emerged and I bent down to hug him.
‘This is my friend,’ he said, pulling me over to meet a little boy in a red anorak, then hiding behind my legs.
‘Hello,’ I said. The mum smiled briefly at me.
‘Pete, hey, why don’t you introduce us?’ I said, prising him out from behind me.
‘This is my sister. She’s called Audrey,’ he said to the little boy, who grinned at me, and then they started chasing.
‘Nicky, come back,’ the woman yelled, abandoning her buggy and dashing off after them. But Nicky was fast and he and Peter flew in circles. All I could do was laugh.
‘We’ll be late now,’ the woman said to Nicky when she caught him, pulling him along by his sleeve, and they hustled off without saying goodbye.
‘Right, Pete, I guess we should go too.’
‘Can we invite Nicky to play round our house?’
‘Maybe. Let’s ask Mum, OK?’
‘She’ll say no,’ he said, jamming his thumb in his mouth, and I grabbed his hand.
‘Let’s sing the going-home song,’ I said, but he stuck out his bottom lip, dragging his feet as I started to walk him out of the playground.
Where was Leo? I would have missed him by now, the last stragglers were just leaving college and Leo always got out first. He’d be halfway home along the embankment, I reckoned.
‘I’ve got a good idea,’ I said, ‘let’s go to the farm.’
‘I’m tired. My feet hurt.’
‘I’ll carry you?’
Peter stared at me, a big no in his face, so we stood at the bus stop instead and it began to rain.
Leo
‘Pull over, there’s Aud and Peter.’
Sue nodded and stopped. Leo wound down the window and leant out.
‘Lift?’ he said, thanking the gods, or whoever was in charge of life’s little tricks of fate for this. Usually Lorraine picked them up from school.
Audrey helped Peter up first and then squashed in beside him. Leo reached for her hand without thinking and held it.
Sue cleared her throat. She touched the indicator and pulled back out into the traffic.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘good job we found you, or you’d have been drenched by the time that bus came.’
‘Thanks, Sue,’ said Audrey. Leo squeezed her fingers and leant across Peter to whisper in her ear.
‘Where’ve you been?’ he murmured. His mouth was very near her neck. Her skin smelled of the cold, and roses, deep-red winter roses. He let his lips touch her ear and she jumped.
‘We’d better drop you off at home,’ said Sue. ‘We’re on our way to visit friends.’
‘Oh, thanks; thanks for that.’
‘It’s no problem,’ Sue said. ‘Get those sweets out of my handbag, Leo – share them out.’
When they got to the Grange Leo got out of the Land Rover too. He walked them up to the front door.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘I have to see you – so, when? School’s not enough. Lunchtimes are too short. And cold.’
‘Soon,’ Aud promised. ‘Friday. Mum always works Friday nights. Can you come?’
‘Yeah.’ He looked back at Sue, who was pretending not to be watching. Peter was kicking at the front door.
‘Aud,’ Peter said. ‘Come on, Aud.’
‘You’d better go.’
‘Yes,’ Audrey said, still standing there.
‘Bye, then.’
‘Bye.’
Then they stumbled into one another, very fast, and there was the smudge of a kiss, but it burned his mouth and she fumbled with her keys and that was all.
Leo
At some point his mother had to find out about Audrey. Sue claimed she hadn’t mentioned her, or if she had she certainly hadn’t meant to. But his mum just knew. Leo wondered when he’d stop being an open book to her, how thousands of miles away she could still read him. It was after they’d got home to the farm, after the dull supper at some WI mate of Sue’s, that she called.
‘So. A new girlfriend?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Leo, I can guess, just by the look in your eyes.’
He dodged out of view and she shouted at him from the computer screen, half laughing.
‘Well, I hope she’s a nice girl, bright and gives you a bit of challenge. And I hope she appreciates how lucky she is. Jecca only emailed the other day, said she wondered if you two might hook up in the Christmas break. But I suppose you’re staying in the sticks?’
‘That depends. If you want me to come to London, I will. You’ll be coming over, right?’
‘Sorry, darling, I’m not.’ Her voice was tinged with regret, then she justified herself: ‘Work’s hectic. You could always come out to us, you know. Either way, Jecca would love to see you if you make it to town. And take the girlfriend. What’s her name?’
‘Audrey. She’s not really my girlfriend.’ He scratched his nail on the wood of the table, caught a spl
inter in the soft skin of his thumb. He didn’t know why he’d lied.
‘Good.’
‘Mother,’ Leo warned, and his mum smoothed her hair back, regarded him with a cool, appraising stare.
‘And how’s school? I hope this Audrey isn’t getting in the way of your work.’
‘As if, Mum. You know I live and breathe my work.’
‘Don’t be sarcastic. Lowest form of wit, darling.’
He’d been surprised: she left it at that and their conversation had finished soon after. Like she said, she was busy. And he ought to have been busy on his latest essay for Mr Bruce. They’d moved on to Renaissance poetry: John Donne. He had to admit he rather liked John Donne.
On Friday, instead of grappling with metaphysical longings, Leo called round for Audrey, as they’d planned. When he knocked on the door of the flat she answered, pink-cheeked and smelling of sugar.
‘Pete and I made biscuits. Here –’ she held out the plate – ‘they’re good. A success for once. Despite the crap oven.’
He crammed the warm biscuit into his mouth, grinning while chewing. There was no sign of Lorraine, and Leo let the tension out of his shoulders. They had the place to themselves and it smelled better; that musty, mouldering odour had all but gone. Leo spied a bottle of bleach in the kitchen bin, rubber gloves on the worktop and guessed Audrey had been cleaning. Up close she smelled of swimming pools. He didn’t mind.
‘Pete’s going to bed soon.’ She cast him a swift look, brushed her hair out of her face and smiled.
Audrey was still tidying up and Leo watched her wiping the counters, bustling about, and that made him smile too. It was good to be here and see that she was OK. He didn’t know what Lorraine had been talking about; the Audrey she described was never the one he saw. ‘I’ll read Pete a story if you like,’ he said, ‘and then we could watch a film. I brought a DVD.’
Leo could hear Audrey humming downstairs as he read the bedtime story. She wasn’t exactly tuneful, but he liked the cheerful sound. Peter had his thumb in his mouth and snuggled under the covers.
‘I love you, Leo,’ he said when Leo closed the book and stood up.
‘Thanks, Pete,’ he told him, surprised, not sure what to say, really. ‘You’re a good chap,’ he added, which he knew was the kind of thing his own father would have said to him on receipt of such a declaration of affection. Regretting it, he bent down, tucked the covers over Peter and kissed his forehead.
