by Claire Wong
“Are you sad because we didn’t find the albatross? Or is it because Mum was cross with you? Don’t worry about that; she gets cross with everyone, but she forgets about it eventually.”
Bert sighed. “It’s not that,” he said. “I’ve been deluded and irresponsible. I can’t believe I let myself think I’d find anything out of the ordinary here. You weren’t to know, of course; you haven’t spent decades studying British wildlife. There was never any albatross here. Whoever thought they saw one made a mistake, and any real scientist would have known that immediately. My colleagues were right to laugh at me after all. I got carried away again. I should just focus on my teaching, and accept that it’s almost time to retire.”
Kit could not think of anything he could possibly say to cheer Bert up. He stood there for a moment, watching his old friend stare into space.
“Sorry, Bert,” he said, but the words felt utterly inadequate. Disheartened, he left the birdwatcher alone and headed for Beth’s room. Sean was in the corridor and spotted him at once.
“Not a chance,” he said. His eyes were hard and his expression solemn. “I think you can stay away from Beth, after all you’ve done.”
But I need to warn her about you. If Kit had known they were leaving so soon, he would have sneaked into the kitchen at night to check the cupboards for arsenic. Now it was too late.
Sean stayed in the hallway and watched him slink back upstairs, not going into the kitchen until Kit had reached the landing. As the kitchen door swung shut, Kit heard a voice say, “Who’d have thought one family could cause so much disruption?”
Kit returned to the room where Juliet was packing. He sat down heavily on the bed. I’m not sure I’m especially good at quests. The people I’ve tried to help seem more unhappy than when I started. He wanted someone to cheer him up, but there was little hope of Juliet lifting the gloom, so he would have to find a silver lining himself.
“At least there’s one good thing about having to leave Askfeld,” he said after a moment’s thought.
“What?”
“When we’re finally in our own house, Dad will have to come and join us, won’t he?”
Juliet turned her back to him and gathered up a selection of colourful nail varnish pots that clinked against one another.
The thought made the day bearable for Kit. He would have to leave this place, but his family would be back together at last, as they should be. He repeated this to himself as they heaved the luggage downstairs, as Catherine thanked Sean for their stay and Sean printed out a receipt for them, handing it over with none of the warmth with which he had greeted them on their first day at Askfeld. He reminded himself of it as he sat in the back of the car and they drove away, without saying goodbye to Beth or Maddie or Nick, and as they arrived in their new house in Utterscar.
It was newer than Askfeld, and when Kit ran his hand over the walls they were not cold and uneven like the guest house. The wooden floors were flat and varnished, and the window frames were white and draught-free. Catherine enthused about “returning to modern civilization” as if they had been staying in a medieval dungeon until now, but Kit felt as though this house lacked something. It had not yet witnessed the centuries of unfolding lives that gave a building its character. In time the Fisher family could stamp personality on this house, of course, but for now it felt a little blank and empty.
Kit ran around, throwing open the door to each room so he could inspect it. To his surprise, his mother approved of his energetic exploration.
“That’s right, get some air circulating between the rooms. I’ll give the place a good clean before we start unpacking. I’ve labelled the box with the kettle so it’s easy to find.”
“Can I see my room?” Juliet asked, and Catherine forgot all about making coffee as she ushered her daughter upstairs to the second biggest bedroom, which overlooked the front garden.
An hour after they arrived, the lorry pulled up outside, completely blocking the road while two men unloaded the Fisher family’s belongings. Their accents were strong and Catherine kept having to ask them to repeat what they said, which seemed to be a great source of embarrassment for her. Juliet located the kettle and brewed mugs of sugar-saturated tea for them as they hauled furniture up the stairs and around awkward corners.
Six o’clock brought a soft golden glow through the windows that did not yet have curtains up. Juliet was still in the kitchen, unwrapping crockery and assigning it to shelves. Kit had offered to help, but after he tried to put saucepans in the cupboard under the sink he was quickly dismissed to another part of the house. His mum was making up the beds in each of the upstairs rooms, and Kit was by now too big to crawl inside the duvet cover and help keep the corners in their right places. He went instead to the study, where his dad’s books and files were still in boxes. The desk and shelves were already in place, so he began to unpack the rest. He wanted this room to be ready for when his dad arrived, which would surely be soon now.
He unwound layers of bubblewrap from around a framed photograph of himself and Juliet, much younger than they were now. It had been taken on a holiday about five years ago. They had gone to a farm and been allowed to feed the animals. You could just about see in the picture that the cuff of Kit’s green jumper was unravelling where an eager goat had earlier tried to eat more than just the animal feed. Juliet had been nervous of the horses at first, afraid they would bite her if she stood too close. And his mum had been determined to take a photo of them before someone fell over and got muddy, which was, she had said, inevitable. Kit placed the picture on his father’s desk, pleased that this memory of the family had been considered important enough to preserve.
There were no photos of their time in Askfeld, aside from that one at Scar Bay. He would have no pictures to help him remember his new friends, unless he committed them to memory now. In his mind’s eye, he saw Bert stomping over the heath, a pair of binoculars swinging from around his neck, his grey hair windswept in all directions. Maddie would be finishing off the restoration of her boat, perhaps even launching out to sea for the final stretch of her pilgrimage. And Beth was presumably resting by the window while she contemplated her unfinished map, unable to complete it.
A phone buzzed somewhere in the next room. Kit listened for it to be answered, but nobody else seemed to have noticed the sound. He went into the bedroom and found his mother’s mobile balanced on top of a cardboard box labelled “Shoes”. Kit checked the screen and then answered it.
“Hi Dad!”
“Kit! How’s my favourite son?”
“Dad, I’m your only son.”
“Doesn’t matter. I bet you’d be my favourite even if you weren’t the only one. Is your mum there?”
“She’s in Juliet’s room, making up the bed. This house is really cool, Dad.”
“D’you like your new room then?”
“Yeah, it’s great.” The words came out a little flat. He could not deny their new home had none of the chilly draughts or creaking floorboards of Askfeld, yet still he struggled to summon the enthusiasm he knew he ought to feel.
“What’s up? Sounds like something’s bothering you.”
“Yeah, it’s just that I was making this thing – this map for you. Well, Beth’s making it actually, but it’s got loads of cool places on it that I want to show you. And I wanted to finish it before you got here, but now there won’t be enough time before you come, will there? It’s OK though, there’s still loads of things on there. Beth says there’s this lake nearby where we can go and skim stones, only I’m not sure yet how you do that. Do you know how to skim stones?”
There was a long silence at the other end of the phone.
“Dad? Are you still there?”
“Kit, listen… I know we said I’d come up and join you all when you moved into the new house, but I think it’s going to be a while longer yet.”
“Oh. When?”
“I don’t know yet. Work’s very busy right now. That’s why I need to talk to
your mum. Can you pass the phone to her for me?”
“OK.” It was all the answer he could muster. He crossed the landing into Juliet’s room, where his mum was carefully arranging cushions on top of pillows. In the barely functional shell of their new house, this room was already set up with utter precision. A vase of flowers caught the light on the windowsill, and packs of new pens waited to be opened on the desk. Only Juliet’s handmade collages of photos were not yet on the walls, for she would not let anyone else perform that task. It was almost comical to see this room so perfectly arranged, when downstairs the sofa was still in pieces and the coffee table on its side against a wall.
“Who were you talking to just then?” his mother asked.
“Dad. He wants to speak to you.” He thrust the phone at her and walked out of the room. He plodded back to the study, closed the door, and sat leaning against it. His dad was not coming. Perhaps he would never join them here. Perhaps he preferred living in the city away from them.
His quest had failed on all counts. He had not been able to help Beth finish her map, or to convince his father to come north and reunite the family. A horrible thought crossed his mind. He had been so certain that Sean was the villain, standing in the way of him doing what he was meant to, but what if he had been wrong? After all, it was his mother keeping him from seeing Beth or going out exploring the map, and it was his father choosing to stay away. Could they be the ones responsible for this terrible mess? But no, that could not be right. After all, both those things were his own fault. He had made his mum worried when he went out looking for the albatross, and he had failed to convince his dad to move.
A worse thought took its place. Could it be that the great secret no one would tell him – the reason for his dad not being here – was that his parents were getting divorced? Now that it had occurred to him, he was surprised he had not thought of it before. About half his class had similar stories from their own homes. Toby’s mum had moved to Australia when he was five, and made it very clear that Toby’s dad was not welcome to follow her.
It might have been optimism, it might have been stubbornness, but Kit refused to believe it. After all, his mum had always promised to talk to her children like adults, to treat them as though they were clever enough to understand everything, so if she and Kit’s dad were splitting up, then she would have told them.
He could hear half of the conversation between his parents, across the landing. His dad must have asked who Beth was, after Kit had mentioned her, because now his mum was saying, “She’s one of the owners of the bed and breakfast where we’ve been staying. Her husband does most of the work, though; she’s in bed ill most of the time… I’m not sure. One of these chronic things that’s hard to diagnose, I think. Seems to involve tiredness and muscle pain – and I’m pretty sure it must be affecting her mental state too, the way she speaks to Sean sometimes, when he does so much for her. And if you knew the influence she’s had on Kit!… What’s that?… No, no, I haven’t spoken to her about much at all. Why on earth would I discuss our family with her?… Well no, I don’t think it would help, actually… Not remotely the same condition. You may think that, but you haven’t met her. For that matter, you haven’t been here with the rest of us either, to see what it’s been like. We don’t all have the option to ignore the problems in this family, you know. Maybe if you weren’t so scared of facing –”
Her voice had grown shriller and louder with the last few words, and there was suddenly the slam of a closing door, perhaps as she realized she might be overheard. The next phrases were more muffled, but still audible. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that you’re deliberately… Of course, this is hard for both of us. Look, if you really think it’s worth a conversation, I suppose it can’t do any harm.”
Downstairs, knives and forks were being violently thrown into a drawer, as if Juliet had picked up on the strained tone of their parents’ conversation and was echoing it. Kit listened to the sounds of his family fracturing in their separate locations, and wanted to cry. He had thought he could fix everything, but the Fishers were as divided as they had ever been. And here in this new house, he could not speak to Beth or Bert about any of it. Right now, he might even have appreciated a conversation with Maddie. At least he had not tried and failed to help her, the way he had with the map and the hope of seeing an albatross. She would not be disappointed in him like the others.
Feeling utterly defeated, he curled himself up against the study door, put his head on his knees, and stayed there in silence for the next hour.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LILIES
DAY TWENTY
These are the things I still need to do to set up my room:
1. Put my books on the shelves.
2. Find somewhere to display the model car I built last Christmas.
3. Hang up my new uniform for St Jude’s in the wardrobe (Mum already put away the rest of my clothes, but then she said I needed to start looking after my own room more).
4. Find somewhere to hide this notebook so no one can read it.
Obviously I haven’t done very much unpacking yet, and we’ve been here almost a week now. I just can’t believe that we’re going to be staying here for ever, when Dad still isn’t with us.
“Where are you going?” Kit asked his mother, seeing her gather up the keys, lipstick, and umbrella that belonged in her handbag.
“Just popping out for a little bit. Don’t worry – you two don’t have to come.”
From behind a textbook, Juliet announced this was not a problem: she had another three hours’ work to complete today. The house did not yet have a working internet connection, and she swung between being irked by this and glad not to have the distraction.
“Where are you going?” Kit asked again. She had donned her smart blue dress and was holding an envelope and a bunch of flowers, which meant this was more than just an everyday trip to town to buy milk or pick up contact lens solution. She looked reluctant to answer him, but after a couple of seconds sighed.
“I’m going back to the guest house to take a thank-you card to Sean and Beth for all they did for us while we were staying there,” she said, then added, “It’s the proper thing to do in this situation.”
“It seems stupid to me,” said Juliet. “You were paying them to have us to stay; it’s not like it was a favour that you owe them for.”
“Juliet!” her mother snapped sharply, then seemed to regret it. Juliet looked deflated, faced with the rudeness of her momentary bold opinion. “Normally, I’d agree with you, love. But we were there a long time –”
“Not as long as Maddie,” Kit chipped in. “No one knows when she’s going to leave. I bet she wouldn’t get them a card though. I don’t think she likes them very much. Can I come with you?”
Catherine’s shoes tapped on the hard kitchen floor. She warned Kit that it would be very boring for him, and wouldn’t he prefer to stay here with Juliet where he could watch television? It was another question where Kit chose to pretend ignorance, and not give the answer his mother was encouraging.
“But I want to come. I want to see them too.”
“If you come with me, you’ll be leaving your sister all alone in the house. You don’t want that, do you? And have you loaded the dishwasher yet like I asked you?”
Kit did not see how staying here with Juliet would benefit either of them. She was guaranteed to ignore him, or else be annoyed by him. They had so little in common these days. The games Juliet had once taught him, she now viewed with contempt and described as childish.
He jumped up, gathered the stray plates, and hurriedly rinsed them in the sink before letting them clatter into the dishwasher racks. His sister winced at the noise.
“Oh, let him go!” she said. “I’ll get more work done if he’s not running around disturbing me all the time. I need a bit of silence.”
There seemed no further argument to be had on this, so Kit was allowed to go with his mum, on the condition that he did a
s he was told when they were there. There followed an extensive list of all the ways Juliet could contact them if she needed to, which of course she already knew, but it seemed to reassure Catherine to go over the information again. Kit bounded out to the car, simultaneously buoyant and anxious at the thought of seeing everyone at Askfeld again.
For the first part of the journey, Catherine was quiet, and the only noise besides the car engine was the rustle of tissue paper around the bouquet on the back seat. After they had driven about a mile down the single-track lane lined with beech trees and dry stone walls, she said, “You spent a lot of time with Beth Garsdale, didn’t you?”
Was it a trick question? His mother had been so angry to learn of him befriending strangers. He mumbled his answer that yes, he had been to see her a few times.
“Tell me about her.”
Kit could not guess the motive behind this question. “She’s nice. She’s going to have a baby. And she has lots of books, and she paints sometimes.”
“Is she kind to new people? Does she like talking a lot?”
“She was friendly to me. Sometimes we talked loads, about all sorts of things. But some days she wasn’t feeling well: she gets tired and is in all this pain, and they haven’t found a medicine she can take to make it better yet. When that happens she doesn’t want to see people so much. And some days Sean didn’t let me see her either.”
“Ah yes, poor Sean,” said his mother, and Kit remembered that she had not heard the threat in Sean’s voice when he sent Kit out of Beth’s room, or overheard the conversation with Nick the chef that day about getting rid of Beth somehow.
“He’s not so nice,” he began.
“Kit, you shouldn’t say things like that. If you don’t have anything good to say about someone, don’t say anything at all. He works very hard, I’ll have you know.”
Coming from Catherine, there was no higher praise or greater virtue. Kit knew his mother had no time for the idle. He fell into pointed silence, hoping his refusal to say another word would signal some of his concerns about Sean. But if his mum picked up on the message, she did not show it. Eventually, he gave up.