by Wendy Clarke
‘She’s not my mum.’ Freya’s staring at the ground.
‘I knew you could speak.’
Kelly can’t take her eyes off the thin fingers that are now twisting the metal handle. The gate opens an inch or so and Ben comes up to sniff at the gap. Kelly makes a grab for his collar, then pushes the gate shut with her bottom.
‘Stop it!’
‘He wants to go out.’
‘No, he doesn’t. He’s not allowed out and neither are you.’
Ben paws at the gap under the gate and whimpers.
‘See,’ Freya says. ‘He does want to.’ Her face breaks into a smile. ‘Let’s explore the meadow… the woods.’
Glancing nervously at the house, Kelly lowers her voice. ‘We can’t.’
‘Please. Please, Kelly. You’re the best sister ever.’ Freya’s voice is rising.
‘Be quiet. She’ll hear you.’ Her mum’s bedroom window is right above them. The pane is blank, the clouds reflected in the glass. ‘Anyway, I’m not allowed there.’
Freya looks at Ben. ‘We’ll say he escaped and had to go after him. Then we won’t get into trouble.’
Kelly twists her hands until her fingers hurt. She’s never been out of the garden on her own. If she’s found out, she’ll be in the biggest trouble ever.
Freya’s looking at her curiously. ‘Are you scared?’
‘No.’ She is, though. She’s scared of the unknown, scared they might get lost, scared that they’ll get caught.
‘I’m ten,’ Freya says. ‘I’ll look after you.’
Everything’s changed. It’s no longer Kelly who’s the protector; it’s Freya who’s in charge now. It’s like someone has taken the girl who arrived only a few weeks ago and put a new one in her place. Kelly stares at her.
‘You’re different.’
Freya shrugs. ‘Being quiet and good makes people want me more. With my sister I don’t need to pretend.’
‘But you said you hated me.’
‘Sisters always fight. Don’t you know that? If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll go on my own.’
Kelly looks at the house. Maybe her mum will stay asleep and never know. Sometimes she takes tablets to help her and, when she does, it takes an earthquake to wake her.
‘I’ll come.’
With a smile, Freya holds out her hand to her and this time Kelly doesn’t hesitate. Instead, she steps forward and takes it, then shuts the gate behind her as quietly as she can.
They run down the track beside the house and climb the stile into the meadow. From the upstairs window, it’s always looked far away, but here it is already, stretching away from them towards the rolling hills.
Freya is ahead of her. ‘Come on then.’
But something is stopping Kelly. Far away at the very end of the meadow, just a strip of red against the green, she can see the disused rifle range that Jade told her about. She’s imagining the graffiti-strewn wall that hides the machinery. She knows all about it as a man came in to talk to them in school assembly. He showed them photographs of the place as it used to look and told them how cadets used to fire rifles at the targets that were pulled up on big metal frames. After the boys had finished firing, the targets would be wound down again and a new target fixed on. No one uses it now and all that’s left are the rusting metal frames behind the long-roofed markers’ gallery.
As she thinks of the targets covered with bullet holes, Kelly puts her hand to her heart and shivers.
‘What are you looking at?’ Freya stands, hands on hips, squinting at her through the sunlight.
‘Nothing.’
Kelly follows Freya through the field of grass, the soft heads brushing against her arms. It’s hotter here, the air filled with the buzz of insects. Half of her wants to go back, but the other half is exhilarated by the enormity of what she’s doing. The daring.
They’re climbing towards a belt of trees. It’s steep and Kelly’s legs are getting tired, the merciless sun making every step an effort. She slumps down onto the scrubby grass. Pushing her fringe away from her forehead, she looks down to where they’ve just come from. Beyond the restless grass of the meadow is their house, its blank windows pointing towards the rolling downs, and just visible above the rooftops, she can see the square tower of the village church. Has her mum noticed they’ve gone yet? Will she call her dad? Call the police?
‘I don’t want to go any further.’
Freya comes back to her. Crouching beside her, she flings an arm around her neck and holds her close. ‘Please, I want to see the wood. Sisters must stick together.’
Kelly slips her arm around her waist, feeling the sharp ridges of her ribs. ‘I suppose so.’
She lets Freya pull her to her feet and lead her on, their bodies pressed together as if in some sort of three-legged race. A barbed wire fence is in front of them, broken by a kissing gate, and beyond it is the wood. As they step through the gate, the air becomes mercifully cooler and Kelly tips her head to look at the dense green canopy. It’s silent here, the only sound the clang of the gate as Freya closes it. Her mum’s never taken her here and she wonders why. Maybe it’s because Hansel and Gretel got lost in a wood such as this one and she knows Mummy doesn’t like losing her children. She’s heard her crying after they’ve left.
Kelly rubs at the goosebumps on her arms. ‘I don’t like it here.’
Freya links her arm through Kelly’s. ‘Don’t be silly. Let’s explore.’
A narrow path, knotted with roots, disappears into the wood and they take it, threading their way between the trees that stretch upwards to the sky either side of them. To begin with, their interlocking branches afford glimpses of the parched, sunlit slopes of the downs they’ve just left, but all too soon, the path veers away and it becomes darker.
Suddenly, Ben breaks away, heading towards a gap in the trees.
‘Ben. Come back!’ Kelly pulls at Freya’s arm in panic. ‘We can’t lose him.’
Leaving the path, they go after him, stumbling over tree roots and rotting logs, pushing through the brambles and undergrowth. As they run, they call Ben’s name and when Kelly hears his answering bark, she’s giddy with relief.
They’ve broken out of the trees and are standing in a clearing lit with sunlight. It isn’t empty, though. At its centre is a huge spreading beech tree, with two massive trunks pushing away from each other, the ground beneath littered with the previous year’s leaves. It’s a tree from a fairy tale or a picture book.
Freya claps her hands. ‘Let’s climb.’
Kelly’s not sure. She’s never climbed a tree as big as this one and there’s something else she’s seen. Something she hadn’t noticed earlier.
‘Look.’ Her voice is a whisper.
Branches fan out from the joined trunks and from one of the lower ones, someone has fixed a rope. It hangs straight and unmoving, its end tied into a perfect hangman’s noose – just like the one Miss Dunlop showed the class in her book about highwaymen.
She doesn’t want to touch it, go near it, but Freya is running her hand down one of the trunks, her fingers exploring the secret creases of its bark. Her eyes are closed, her lips moving soundlessly.
Ben, who had earlier been running around the tree, jumping at the trunk and barking, now lies flat on the ground, his ears down.
‘Freya?’
Freya doesn’t answer. She’s acting weirdly again and Kelly doesn’t like it. She wants to be back home – not here in this horrible wood. But just as she’s reaching out a hand to shake her shoulder, Freya pushes herself away from the tree. She looks up at the rope and pulls a face. ‘I can’t reach it. It’s too high.’ She turns to Kelly. ‘What star sign are you?’
The change of subject is abrupt. Unsettling. She scuffs at the dead leaves beneath the tree. ‘I don’t know what a star sign is.’
‘It’s when you were born.’ Lifting her thin leg, Freya places her foot in the cleavage of the two trunks. ‘When is your birthday?’
‘Augus
t twenty-second. You came here the day after my birthday. Remember?’
Freya had been her birthday present.
‘You’re a Leo then.’ Pushing her hands against the inside of the two trunks, Freya pulls herself up and finds a purchase for her other foot. She looks down at Kelly, a pattern of leaves on her face.
Kelly shrugs. ‘Am I?’ Leos are lions and she doesn’t feel much like a lion. Lions are brave and she’s definitely not that.
‘I’m a Gemini,’ Freya continues. Steadying herself with her arms, she cups her hands under her chin and moves her head from left to right. ‘Two-faced. But don’t worry, Geminis and Leos are like best friends.’
The branch with the rope is stretching away from Freya, and Kelly knows there’s no way she can reach it. Feeling bored, she walks away, calling Ben to follow. She only turns back when she hears Freya calling her name.
How she’s managed it, she’s not sure, but Freya is clinging to the rope, her legs clamped around the twisted cords like a fireman, searching with her foot to find the noose.
Kelly runs back, her arms outstretched. ‘Don’t fall.’
‘Don’t be an idiot. Why would I fall?’
Freya’s face is pressed against the rough strands of the rope, her arms straining as she tries to keep herself stable. She manages to fit the other foot next to the first, then looks down at Kelly, her eyes shining. ‘Now swing me.’
Kelly reaches up her arms, but she can’t reach. ‘You’re too high.’
‘I’ll do it myself then.’
Leaning back, she pushes her feet forward, but instead of swinging, the rope starts to twist. Tipping back her head, Freya laughs wildly, bucking her body to make the rope move faster. It twists and tightens and, when it won’t tighten any more, it stops and the branch creaks. Slowly, the rope starts to twist the other way. As it spins faster, Freya squeals in delight.
Ben is jumping at her, his barks ringing through the trees, but Kelly stays where she is, petrified she’ll fall.
Finally, the rope stops spinning. Taking her foot out of the loop, Freya drops to the ground. Her face is pink. Her breath coming in gasps.
‘Now you have a go.’
‘I don’t want to.’
She doesn’t like the tree with its two thick trunks. Neither does she like the rope that hangs from it. Taking Ben by the collar, she leads him to the edge of the trees. ‘I’m going home.’
Freya’s face falls. She runs over to Kelly, her shorts covered in dead leaves. ‘Don’t leave me.’
She looks so distraught that, immediately, Kelly feels guilty. She drops Ben’s collar and straightens up, chewing the inside of her mouth. ‘I wasn’t going to. I was only joking.’
Tears glitter on Freya’s pale lashes. ‘I know you were. You wouldn’t leave me like everyone else.’ She leans her head against Kelly’s. ‘If you like, I’ll tell you a secret. The reason I don’t live with my mum any more.’
Kelly stares. No one has ever told her a secret before. ‘Would you?’
Freya looks back at the rope. It’s still now. Her voice is grave. ‘Yes, but if you tell anyone. Anyone at all. Ever. I will hang myself by that rope and my soul will haunt you forever.’
Kelly moves away from her, horrified. ‘I wouldn’t tell. I promise.’
‘I mean nobody ever. Not your mum, not your dad, not anybody. If you do…’ Circling her neck with her hands, Freya drops her head to her shoulder. Her tongue lolls from her mouth grotesquely.
Kelly pulls at Freya’s hands, appalled. ‘Stop it! I said I wouldn’t tell, didn’t I?’
The wood is quiet, just the odd rustle of leaves and the shrill cry of a bird in the canopy. Freya stands defiant, her eyes fixed on Kelly’s.
‘I killed my sister,’ she says.
18
Kelly Now
I’m getting the children’s breakfast, bouncing Noah in his bouncy chair with my right foot while trying to persuade Sophie to finish her toast. She’s pushed away her plate and her head is resting on her folded arms, her blue eyes looking up at me. They’re filled with tears. I hate to see her like this and am worried about how she’s coping. Twice she woke in the night and eventually, exhausted from getting up for Noah too and craving sleep, I’d allowed her to come into our bed.
Feeling my throat tighten, I hold up a piece of toast. ‘Just one more bite, Sophie, please. It’s a long time until lunchtime.’
On the other side of the table, Isabella is still sulking. ‘It’s not fair. Why aren’t I allowed in your bed?’
I look at Izzy and can’t help smiling at the crescent of milk that follows the contours of her little mouth like a clown’s. ‘It is fair when Sophie’s had a bad dream. If you had one, I’d let you too.’
If that happened, I know just how it would be. Instead of curling herself into my body and going back to sleep as Sophie had, Izzy would take advantage of the situation, spreading her limbs into a starfish and pushing us to the edge of the bed. She’d regale us with stories of zombies and ghosts until Noah’s next feed or until Mitch conceded defeat and left us to it, sleeping in Isabella’s bed instead. Sometimes it’s hard to cope with Izzy’s overactive imagination.
Sophie looks up at me, her fine fair hair falling into her eyes. I make a note to tie it back before we leave. ‘I don’t want to go back, Mummy.’
I hear the thrum of panic in her voice and wish there was something I could do to make it better. I brush her hair back from her face. ‘You’ll have fun when you get there. I know you will. Your topic is fairy tales and I know you love them.’
It’s said without conviction. I can’t imagine my quiet, sensitive daughter in a noisy classroom, knowing that if anyone tries to speak to her, she’ll clam up and withdraw into herself. My heart breaks at the thought of it.
‘Cheer up you lot. It might never happen.’ Mitch turns round and looks at the three of us. He’s filling thick doorstep sandwiches with corned beef, flattening them with his large hand before cutting them in half. He’ll eat them in the site office or outside with the other guys. I nod in Sophie’s direction, not wanting to speak my fears aloud.
‘She’ll be fine,’ he says, wiping his hands on his jeans. ‘She’ll get used to it.’
Noah has started to cry and I grit my teeth, weary of his continual demands for feeds. Feeling my body react to the sound, I pick him out of his chair.
Mitch looks at us both. ‘You could always leave him for a while longer. It wouldn’t hurt him to wait.’
It’s just the thing my mother would have said and I shut out his words, unclipping my nursing bra and latching Noah on. If we’re quick, I can get him fed before we leave and still have time to spare once we get to school. I need to speak to the girls’ teacher. Make sure she understands how different the two of them are. That while one needs a firm hand, the other needs understanding and a gentle touch.
Isabella has finished her breakfast and is sitting on the floor, trying to put on her patent shoes. I’m impressed with her perseverance, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she tries to buckle them, despite the fact she’s got them on the wrong feet.
‘Can you help her, Mitch? You can see I’ve got my hands full.’
My husband crouches down beside her and slips the shoes onto the right feet, buckling them carefully with his practical fingers. ‘There you are, beautiful,’ he says, kissing her on the top of her dark shiny head. He looks up as the letter box clatters. ‘There’s the post. Fetch it for me would you, love.’
Izzy leaps up and runs out of the room. When she returns, she’s holding a clutch of letters to her chest, trying not to drop them. Mitch takes them from her.
‘Bill… bill… bank statement… Cotton Traders catalogue.’ As he speaks, he flicks them onto the kitchen table until there’s just one left in his hand. He studies it, bringing it closer so he can see the postmark. ‘Now this looks more interesting.’
I look up. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m not sure, but it’s ad
dressed to you. Can’t remember the last time anyone sent an actual letter.’ He says the word as if he’s talking about something from the dark ages.
‘Give it here.’ I reach out my free hand and Mitch passes it to me. The envelope is thick vellum, not something cheap you’d pick up at the supermarket in a multi-pack. My name and address have been written on the front in small neat writing.
I stare at it and my heart goes cold.
‘Aren’t you going to open it?’
‘No.’ Placing it on the kitchen table, I push it away from me, as far as I can without disturbing Noah. I feel sick at the thought of the hand that’s written whatever is inside.
Seeing my face, Mitch frowns. He slings his donkey jacket onto the back of the chair and picks up the envelope.
‘Kelly, tell me what’s going on? If you’ve an admirer and that’s their love letter, you’d better tell me now.’
His attempt at a joke falls flat. I’m in no mood to laugh and Sophie, knowing something’s the matter, slips off her chair and presses herself against my body. I look at her, her little face pinched with concern, and feel guilty. I’m doing nothing to make it better. Unlatching Noah from my breast, I take a fresh pad from the box beside me and position it inside my nursing bra before clipping it back up. My head is aching with the weight of all that is unread in the letter, but I can’t let it affect me.
‘It’s nothing,’ I say, taking Noah out into the hall and putting him in his pram. ‘I’ll read it later.’
Mitch starts to say something, but I throw him a look that says, just leave it.
Kissing each of his daughters in turn, he pulls on his jacket and picks up his sandwiches. ‘I’ll see you later then. Have a good day, tribe. Oh, and I’ll let Maddie know it’s fine for Saturday.’
He hesitates, then comes over to me. ‘You know who it’s from, don’t you?’
I say nothing, not trusting myself to speak. Of course I know who it’s from. It’s from my mother.
19
Kelly Before