by FJ Campbell
It was a walled garden with a neat lawn in the centre, surrounded by a gravel pathway, trees and plants climbing around the outer perimeter by the wall. The frost had covered everything with a fine layer of silvery white, glistening and sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. Beth was speechless. She had never seen anything so beautiful and so calming. She put her hand on Milo’s arm.
‘Like it?’ he asked, looking down at her, smiling, at ease again with her.
‘What is it?’ she whispered. ‘I mean, is it yours?’
‘No, it’s the walled garden that belongs to the school. Nobody ever goes here though, except me. The new groundsman gave me the key when my dad died. He said it was my mum and dad’s favourite place and, unless anyone else found out about it, I could look after it myself and keep the key. Nobody else has ever even asked about it. Nobody else but me has been in here since last year. Until now.’
‘Thank you for showing it to me.’
‘Come and have a look.’
They walked around the gravel pathway and Milo talked about the plants, the trees, the time he spent here and how much the garden had meant to his parents. They found a moss-covered stone bench in a corner under a weeping willow tree and sat down.
‘You’re a dark horse. What other secrets do you have, Milo? Or should I call you Dickon?’
‘Who would that make you? Mary Lennox, I suppose? I can see the similarities.’
‘OK, ha ha. Well, now you’ve brought me here, you’d better tell me what you wanted to say. What’s bothering you these days?’
Milo’s face tensed. ‘It’s about you and Edward. You sent him that poem – don’t look like that, he showed it to me – and he’s head over heels in love with you. Everyone saw you two creeping off from the rugby game last week, and at the party, he was all over you. Everyone thought you were a couple. Then Edward tells me you’re not interested. I haven’t seen him looking this down in the mouth for ages, and for Edward, that’s really saying something.’
‘I thought you weren’t interested in school gossip?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s all everyone’s talking about.’
‘Really?’ She couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice.
Milo turned to her. ‘That’s not a good thing, Elizabeth.’
‘Beth. I prefer Beth.’ He knew that – why did he insist on using her full name? ‘Isn’t it?’
He stared at her for a moment, then said quietly, almost to himself, ‘I didn’t think you would be that cruel.’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake. It wasn’t like that. This is ridiculous.’ She stood up to leave. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’ She sat down again, trying not to lose her temper. ‘Even though this is none of your business, or anyone’s, and I couldn’t care less what anyone thinks, especially you…’
He didn’t react.
‘…the point is, it was sort of a joke, that poem. I didn’t mean for him to go all crazy about it. I’ve explained it to him, so it’s going to be fine. It’s all under control.’
She saw his look of mistrust. ‘What? What is it, Milo? Spit it out. You’re really starting to get on my nerves.’ She was so annoyed with him, and knew deep down she couldn’t defend her behaviour, which made it even worse, because the only person in the whole school whose opinion was important to her was his.
He stood up from the bench, as if he couldn’t bear to be near her. ‘That’s not how it works. You told him that you love him, you made him fall in love with you and then you just change your mind? Don’t forget, he wasn’t even interested in you before this; he was perfectly happy before he knew who you were. He’s a nice person – he’s my friend. The poor guy doesn’t stand a chance.’
She laughed shortly. ‘How do you know how it works? You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She looked at him, his face neutral, even though she was trying to hurt him. It was driving her mad, the way he was judging her. ‘What makes you think you’re such an expert all of a sudden?’ Her voice rose. ‘I didn’t ask your opinion and I couldn’t give a shit what you think. In fact, the more you lecture me about this, the more I think I did the right thing. You think you’re so honourable, but you’re such a hypocrite. You’re only criticising me because I didn’t want to go out with you.’ She glared at him, challenging him to deny it.
‘No, actually,’ he said evenly. ‘I haven’t thought about you in that way for a long time.’
‘I suppose you would say that.’
‘Yes, I suppose I would.’
Beth fumed silently. She had been so sure that Milo was still in love with her. She could have put up with his reprimand about Edward if she thought that he was only doing it out of spite – if he couldn’t have her, no one could, that sort of thing. Now she could see that he didn’t love her any more, that he had kept his promise to be her friend. It was galling, that’s what it was.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘I’ll tell you what, Milo, if I’m such a fucking disappointment to you, then let’s say we’re not such good friends as we thought we were. Perhaps it would be best…’ she stood up from the bench and headed for the small door of the garden, ‘if we didn’t spend so much time with each other any more. Thanks for your help with the play, but I think I can take it from here.’ She stormed out of the garden, leaving him standing unfazed by the bench.
‘If you say so.’
CHAPTER 9
Beth didn’t speak to Milo again for the rest of the term. She was so angry every time she saw him, and it infuriated her how he would meet her stare with a calm smile. Once or twice, he looked as if he were about to burst out laughing at her, which only wound her up more. The script for the play was finished, and the secretary had typed it out and given her three copies. Beth went alone to deliver the script to Mr Gifford. He promised to read it over the holidays, so they could meet in the first week of term to discuss any improvements.
On the last day of term, Anne arrived to pick her up in her ancient yellow VW Golf, took her home to Melchester and told her she had an hour to pack a bag.
‘I couldn’t bear to spend another dreary Christmas in England. I’ve splashed out – we’re going to Florence tonight. Luxury hotel, art galleries, fancy-pants restaurants, designer shopping. No expense spared.’
All thoughts of Edward and Milo flew out of Beth’s head. It was the best holiday of her life. On New Year’s Eve, when they arrived back home from the airport, there was a message for Beth on the answer machine from Livvy, inviting her out that night. They would pick her up at six, and she was to wear something ‘not too flimsy’ and ‘dancing shoes’.
‘It sounds like you’re going to a rave,’ said Anne.
‘A rave – what on earth is that?’
‘What do they teach you at that expensive school of yours? It’s a dance party, usually in a field or a warehouse. They set it up without proper licences and everyone finds out where it is at the last moment, so the police can’t close it down too quickly. Wear trainers and take a bottle of water with you. And stick close to your friends – if there is a police raid and everyone does a runner, you’ll need to be together.’
‘How do you know all this? Actually, please don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.’
Sure enough, when Livvy and BJ picked her up, they’d found out about a rave that was happening at a deserted barn in between the town of Shottsford Forum and The Island. Beth was worried that it was too close to school, but the Roses had checked out the location on a map and said it was miles away so it wouldn’t be heard, and also that all the teachers would be away right now.
‘Are we picking up Melanie or not?’ asked Billy. ‘What did she say in the end?’
‘Nope, she’s not coming,’ said Livvy, her eyes twinkling. ‘Guess what – she’s got a date tonight.’
‘Who’s the lucky man?’
‘Dunno. She wouldn’t say. She said she wasn’t sure if it was happening, then suddenly it was, but she didn’t want to say who with.’
‘With w
hom,’ said Beth.
‘Stop doing that!’ all three of them shouted at her.
*
Beth attached herself to the Roses at the rave. There must have been about a thousand people there, and it was so loud they couldn’t hear each other talk. The music was totally new to Beth, like nothing she’d ever heard before; the crowd was going mad. At about eleven o’clock they went outside for a break, and Beth heard someone call her name. She looked over to a group of boys who were sitting on some straw bales. Livvy and BJ were already walking over there before she recognised them – they were from her old school, and among them was her former antagonist, Steve aka Ferris Bueller. Too late to change direction, she introduced everyone. Billy lit up and passed round a joint, and Bueller offered them some pills. Billy and Jake took one each.
‘What are they?’ asked Livvy.
‘Ecstasy.’
‘Umm…’ She hesitated, looking at her older brothers. ‘Have you taken it before?’
‘Couple of times.’
‘What does it do?’ said Beth.
‘Just makes the music more intense, like it makes more sense, and gives you a good buzz.’
Livvy turned to Beth. ‘What do you think? Shall we try it?’
‘Want to do a half each?’
They swallowed half a pill each, drank a beer and went inside to dance again.
It was nearly midnight when Beth found herself outside again, but she couldn’t see the others. She wasn’t sure if the E had worked properly. At midnight she was sitting alone, cheerful, exhausted and sweaty, and clinked together her cigarette and bottle of beer to wish herself a Happy New Year. Bueller came out a few minutes later, alone. He wished her a Happy New Decade and she decided to be nice to him. He hadn’t seen her friends but they sat together for a while and chatted about the rave.
‘So, do you know how it all works?’ She waved her cigarette at the barn.
‘Dunno exactly – but how did you get here?’
‘I got a lift with my friends.’
‘OK, well, with me it was like this. I was in the pub last week and this bloke came in and was handing out flyers; here, look – like this.’ He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. ‘There’s a date, see, and a phone number to call. It’s from one of them mobile phones. You call it on the day of the rave and they give you map coordinates or a road name. Then you just turn up.’
‘But it’s so loud – why do you reckon the police aren’t here yet?’
‘I dunno. I suppose they’re all on duty in the town centres, and this is so far away. Even if some old biddy who lives near here does call the cops, they probably can’t be bothered to traipse all the way out here to close it down. They can’t spare the manpower anyway, not on New Year’s Eve. Every fucker is out in Melchester puking on the streets; that’s where the cops are tonight.’
‘Is this your first rave?’
‘Nah, I went to one in the summer, near Stonehenge, after the hippies had been cleared out. There used to be loads in London, but now everyone goes to the ones in the country. You can get more people together. And the more people there are, the harder it is for the cops to control it.’
‘Well, I suppose I’d better find my friends, in case they’re looking for me.’
‘Or…’ he smiled and tilted his head to the side, ‘you could let me be your friend tonight…’ He leant his face towards hers and Beth, laughing, slid away from him.
‘You always were really cheesy, Bueller. Look, can you do me a favour? I’m going inside, but if Livvy and her brothers come out again, could you please tell them to wait here for me? Otherwise we might keep missing each other.’
She struggled through the sweaty, dancing mob, circling round the edges of the barn and zigzagging through the dancers. She made it back to the barn doors without having seen them, and now Bueller was gone too. She didn’t have a clue what time it was, but she’d had enough. What the fuck was she supposed to do now without the Roses? They were such airheads; where were they? She had an idea that they might have gone to The Island, either to set up some stupid prank, or maybe they thought that’s where she’d be. It was only a couple of miles to the school gates and she was pretty sure she could find the way. With a second wind, she walked away from the pounding beat of the music and followed the track.
After a while, she saw a turning with a lamp post she recognised, and not much later, she saw the school gates in front of her. The archway with the coat of arms and Latin motto had never been more welcoming.
She was about to start walking up the driveway when she spotted a narrow, overgrown pathway to the side of the stone wall. She was so tired that it took a couple of seconds for her to figure out why that path meant something to her. Finally it clicked – it was the path to Milo’s cottage. The night he’d fallen off the ladder, this was where it had happened.
Milo. Her exhaustion, the dancing, the beer and the drugs all collided and she had one thought – she wanted Milo. He was what she needed – his calmness, his strength, his safeness. It was all clear to her. She pushed aside some brambles and ran up the path towards the cottage. There were lights on upstairs and downstairs, but all the curtains were closed. She knocked on the door and waited, her breath clouding in the air around her. She quickly pulled her fingers through her hair. She probably looked a complete mess.
When Milo opened the door he was in his boxers and pulling on a crumpled white T-shirt, frayed around the neck. He stopped when he saw her, only opening it halfway.
‘Eliza… Beth, is that you? What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Happy New Year. Can I come in?’
‘How…? What…? No, no, you definitely can’t come in,’ he stuttered as she tried to push the door open. ‘No, it’s… it’s not a good time.’
‘What are you talking about?’ She ducked under his arm, into the warm, cosy kitchen. The embers of a fire were glowing in the grate and she sat down heavily on a chair by the table.
‘This is lovely, Milo. You really are very domesticated. What have you been up to tonight?’ She looked over to him, still standing at the half-open door. ‘Close that, will you, there’s a bit of a…’ She stopped talking and followed his eyes to where they had glanced upwards to the top of the stairs. She looked back at the table. A candle, two wine glasses, two plates, two sets of cutlery. ‘Ah. I see. It really isn’t a good time. Who is she? Oh, it doesn’t matter, don’t tell me. Oh my God, is it Mel?’
The expression on his face told her she’d guessed right.
‘Oh shit, how embarrassing to burst in on you like this. I lost Livvy at this party, and I thought maybe I could use your phone…’ She tailed off. ‘I’m so tired. I know this is a lot to ask, but could I kip on your sofa? I don’t know what else to do. Please?’
She could feel her eyes drooping; her shoulders and arms were heavy as she spoke. Milo pointed to a shabby sofa near to the fire, mumbled something about a blanket and left the room. Beth staggered over to the sofa and lowered herself down, drifting down, down into the absolute bliss of it. Through half-closed eyes she saw Milo return and felt a blanket spread over her. She reached her hand out and clasped his. A sleepy smile of gratitude spread over her parted lips. She murmured, more to herself than to him, ‘You’re such a legend, Milo.’
‘I know.’
And she smiled again.
*
Milo trudged upstairs and creaked open his bedroom door. Melanie sat fully clothed, where he had left her, on the edge of the bed. He looked at her, awkward and embarrassed, not wanting to be the first to speak.
‘It’s OK, Milo, I know you’re too nice to say it. It’s really OK.’ She held up her hand when he tried to speak. ‘It’s obvious how you feel about her. I knew before I called you about tonight.’ She swallowed and tried to smile. ‘Would you please call me a taxi now?’
‘It’s so late. Why don’t you stay here? I’ll make up the bed in the other room for me.’
‘Thanks, but if it’s a
ll the same to you, I’d like to go home now.’
Half an hour later, he watched the taxi pull away, closed the front door and leant with his back against it, his shame mixed with relief. He glanced over at the sofa and was tempted to spend another night sitting watching Beth sleep, but Melanie’s parting words rang in his ears: If you ever feel like trying to get over her with me, let me know. Beggars can’t be choosers.
*
Beth woke at midday on the first day of 1990. While she’d been asleep, Milo had chopped some logs, washed and cleared up from last night, made her some strong coffee and cooked her a fry-up. Mel was nowhere to be seen. They sat eating, drinking and talking in front of the fire until it started to get dark again. Where had the time gone?
Beth stretched out on the sofa, yawned and said, ‘I’m not really sure I can be bothered to move again today. Anne’s not home anyway, she’s in London. Shall I stay another night here? Or do you have plans with Mel?’
‘Ha ha, very hilarious.’
He put some potatoes in the oven and produced some fresh cheese and salad from the fridge. Beth watched him and wondered if they were leftovers from his dinner with Mel last night, which was now fading into a distant memory. He fetched some glasses and a bottle of wine. Beth winced as she took the first sip.
‘Oh, sorry, is the wine not a good vintage?’ he asked.
‘No idea, but it’s hurting my hangover.’
‘Hair of the dog. It’s the only way.’
She downed the rest of the glass and refilled it.
‘That’s the spirit.’
Beth looked around her, taking in the bookshelves stuffed with old books. The phone rang and Milo answered it, and she heard him say quietly, ‘No, not today, mate… tomorrow’s good, I’ll see you there. OK, eight o’clock. No, umm… I’ll tell you tomorrow.’
‘Who was that?’ Perhaps another girl?
