by Wendy Clarke
Scott looks at me. ‘What was that all about?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Do you want me to speak to her?’
I run my hand down his arm, registering the feel of the thick dark hairs under my fingertips. ‘Do you mind? You’re so much better at dealing with her at the moment. I can’t seem to say anything right.’ I close my eyes, remembering how close Beth and I once were. Recently, it’s as if I’ve been living with a stranger.
‘I’ll tell her that we’re worried about her.’
‘No, don’t do that.’
‘Well, what do you want me to say?’
‘I don’t know… anything. Make something up.’
Scott rubs his chin. ‘You know I don’t like doing that.’
‘For God’s sake. Just say you want to look at her drawings or something. A little white lie isn’t going to kill you!’ Sometimes I wonder where his obsession with honesty comes from.
Ignoring my outburst, he puts his knife and fork together and pushes his plate away. ‘I’ll go and see if Beth wants a hand with her revision. Once the exams are over, she’ll be back to normal, I’ll bet.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so. How about we have a day out – all of us, like we used to? Beth could do with a break from revising and you could do with a change of scene too, I’m sure. We can walk over to Slater’s Bridge and have lunch in the Three Shires.’
I smile, unable to be mad at him for long. ‘Won’t it be a bit of a busman’s holiday for you?’
Scott shrugs. ‘I may spend half my life out there on the fells, but there’s nothing I like better than sharing it with my family.’
Taking his plate, I plant a kiss on his thick dark hair. ‘I love you, Scott Newman.’
‘Of course you do,’ he says with a smile. ‘Who wouldn’t?’
It’s then that my phone rings. Picking it up, I see it’s a number I don’t recognise. It’s probably a customer chasing an order.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Scott says, getting up. ‘If you don’t hear anything from upstairs in ten minutes, send for reinforcements.’
Smiling, I press the accept button, then, tucking the phone under my chin, I start to stack the plates. ‘Hello?’
They answer and I freeze, the smile dropping from my face. I turn to the door, terrified that Scott might have seen my reaction, but he’s already upstairs. As I hear the voice from my past, I know that the vision I saw in Graham’s shop wasn’t a figment of my imagination. It was a premonition.
Four
Beth
‘Want to talk about it?’
Beth walked with her hands deep in her pockets, her head down. Her dad’s presence beside her was both a comfort and an irritation to her. She was only here because she’d known the fuss it would cause if she’d said she’d rather stay behind.
‘There’s nothing to talk about.’
‘Sure?’
‘I told you, didn’t I?’
Her mum was some way ahead of them, her head bent to her phone, looking like she was on a mission rather than enjoying the beauty of the place. Instead of worrying about it, Beth turned her attention to the spiky leaves of the bluebells that had turned the fells into a blue sea.
She could feel her dad’s eyes on her. It was clear he didn’t believe her and a part of her was glad. Her mum was so bound up in whatever it was that was bothering her that she didn’t seem to care whether Beth was unhappy or not. Her dad was different. He was a man of few words, but she liked that. When others around him were busy yacking, only interested in hearing their own voices, he would just listen and take things in. She longed to confide in him, but it would only make things worse. He’d tell Mum and then she’d be straight up to the school. Even the thought of it made her palms sweaty.
‘Worried about the exams?’
He’d thrown her a lifeline and she caught hold of it. There was no need to mention Carina. ‘A bit.’
‘And that’s all?’
‘What else do I need? Exams suck.’
‘Exams are what you need to get on in the world.’
‘Like you did.’
Her dad frowned. ‘That was a bit below the belt, Beth. So I don’t make huge amounts of money and I never moved away from the place I grew up in, but I love what I do.’
‘Then you can hardly lecture me, can you?’
She watched the shadows of the clouds move across the peaks, hating herself for what she was saying; knowing he was only trying to be kind.
‘I just want you to take the opportunities your mum has opened up for you by sending you to Lady Edburton. Get your qualifications, go to university… Then the world’s your oyster. It’s about choice, Beth, and whatever you may think, I chose to stay here. Your mum and I just want the best for you.’
The rough path they’d been following had petered out and they’d joined a grassy track. Her mum was now just a small shape in the distance. So much for a family day out.
Her dad stopped and took her arm, turning her to the view. ‘Just look at that.’
Ahead of them lay Little Langdale Tarn, navy blue beneath a cloud-swollen sky. Cradled by the heather and moss-coloured slopes of Swirl How and Great Carrs.
‘You always say it like it’s the first time you’ve been here when I know you could walk this route in your sleep.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.’ He screwed up his face. ‘I’d probably break a leg or two.’
They stood lost in their own thoughts, their previous conversation forgotten. It was something they had in common, this ability to be silent… That and their love of this place. Her mum liked it too – just not in the same way. She would sometimes talk about London, about the townhouses of Kensington and the chrome and glass buildings of the city and when she did, her voice would turn wistful. Beth had never been to London. Maybe in the holidays, she could persuade her mum to take her.
Not that she imagined she’d like it. The thought of all those people made her shudder. That’s why she loved it here. The peace and the beauty of the place made her feel alive. Made her feel she could be herself without someone judging her.
Unzipping his rucksack, her dad took out a coil of rope and put it on the ground, then fished around for his water bottle. He took a glug, then held it out to her. Beth shook her head, wondering what he’d think if he knew she had been up on the fells alone only two days before. Not to this exact place, but to the disused slate quarry with its cave of midnight blue water. It was somewhere she liked to go when things got too much. Would he understand?
‘Why have you got that in there?’ She pointed to the rope. ‘We’re not exactly climbing the high peaks.’
Her dad shrugged. ‘Wherever I go, it goes. You never know when you might need it.’
‘You should be a boy scout.’ She laughed.
Up ahead, her mum had reached a gate in the drystone wall and was leaning against it, waiting for them. When she waved to them, Beth felt unexpected tears spring to her eyes. She wanted to be held by her mum; for her to make everything go away. She was fed up with putting on a brave face and making out everything was okay when it wasn’t. Instead, she turned back to the tarn again and imagined what it would feel like to walk across its stony shore and into the icy water.
Her dad’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘Let’s go. I’m ravenous.’
Dragging her eyes away from the water, she turned her back on it and followed him along the track to where her mum was waiting. When they reached her, she unlatched the gate and looked at her watch. ‘The pub stops serving food at two. We’d better get a move on.’
Beth walked in silence, letting her parents go on ahead. As they always did, the fells had started to work their magic on her, lifting her spirits. Helping her forget. In no time at all, they had reached the final leg of their walk. It was marked by a wall, Slater’s Bridge carved into the sign next to it. Squeezing through the narrow gap, Beth jumped down the other side. The small bridge w
as ahead of her, its slate arch jagged as teeth. It crossed the river in three spans and, in days gone by, had been the meeting point of several packhorse routes.
She stepped onto it, being careful not to catch her feet in the cracks between the uneven stones. When she came to the middle, she stopped and looked down at the rushing water. In the middle of the stream was a flat boulder, easily reached from the mossy bank. When she was younger, her mum would bring her here for picnics in the long summer holidays and they’d lay out their food on the boulder, pretending they were on a boat. She’d been happy in those days. Able to tell her mum anything.
‘This has always been my favourite place, Beth.’
Her mum was beside her now, her elbow touching Beth’s own. Beth knew she was trying to reach out to her, but however much she wanted to, she couldn’t let herself be drawn.
Instead, she watched the water froth around the rocks. ‘Why didn’t we ever bring any of my friends here? We always came alone.’ It was a thought that had only just occurred to her.
Her mum looked up at her. ‘What a funny question to ask.’
‘I just don’t ever remember doing anything with anyone else in the holidays, that’s all.’
‘That’s because I was always here to do things with you.’ Beth saw the way her mum’s face had tightened. Her lips forming into a narrow line. ‘You’re lucky you didn’t have a mother that worked long hours and packed you off to a childminder.’
‘I know but…’
‘Didn’t you enjoy the things we did?’
‘Of course I did.’ She couldn’t be bothered to explain. ‘Forget I said anything.’
What did it matter anyway? It wasn’t as though she’d had that many friends: not at the little primary in Church Langdon or the one before it when they’d been living in Carlisle. Was it something about her that put other kids off or was it that her mum had never encouraged the friendships? She tried to think of a single girl who had been invited to their house for tea, and failed.
Sunlight glinted off the river, making her squint. The air was getting warmer. It would have been a perfect day to stop and have a picnic like they used to, but her dad had been promised a Sunday roast at the Three Shires. He was waiting for them now, his head on one side, his unruly dark hair mussed by the wind.
‘What are we waiting for?’ he said, his smile wide. ‘I hear there’s some roast beef with my name on it.’
‘Yes,’ her mum said, and Beth thought she saw relief in her eyes. ‘We ought to be going.’
A short stroll across the field ahead took them to the entrance of the pub. There were a few cars in the car park but not so many that it meant they wouldn’t get a table. They found one by the window and Beth and her mum hung their coats on the back of the chairs while her dad went to the bar for some drinks. Stretching her legs out in front of her, Beth looked around the room. Most of the other tables were taken and there was a hum of conversation in the bar. It was warm as, even though it was spring, the fire had been lit. She began to feel herself relax.
Her dad came back with a tray of drinks and three menus. ‘What do you fancy? I was right about the beef – it’s on the specials board.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ Her mum pushed a menu towards her. ‘What about you, Beth?’
Beth glanced at it. The walk had made her ravenous, but Carina’s words were in her head. Fat cow. ‘I’m not that hungry. I’ll just have the soup.’
Her dad raised his eyebrows. ‘What? Since when have you not wanted the roast here? You’ve always said it’s even better than your mum’s.’
He winked at her mum and Beth was surprised when she didn’t respond.
She closed the menu. ‘I told you. I’m not hungry.’
‘That’s not like you.’
She started to speak, but her mum got there first. ‘Stop it, Scott.’ Her voice had an edge to it. ‘Don’t say things like that to her.’
‘Woah!’ He raised his hands in capitulation. ‘I was only saying. Sorry Beth. I only meant that after a two-hour walk, we’re usually all starving.’
Her mum hadn’t finished. She closed the menu with a snap. ‘Well, Beth’s said that she isn’t today, so don’t pressure her.’
‘Mum, leave it.’ Beth shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It had been a nice afternoon and now her mum was going to spoil it. What was up with her? One minute she was normal and the next she was snapping at her dad over nothing. She wished she hadn’t said anything. ‘It’s okay, Dad. I’ll have the same as you.’
‘Sure? You don’t have to.’
‘I’ve changed my mind. I’m sure.’
He left with the menus, but her mum was still looking at her, her forehead creased into a frown. Reaching across the table, she covered her hand with her own. ‘You know you don’t need to diet, Beth. You’re lovely as you are.’
Although she knew she was probably imagining it, it felt as though the eyes of everyone around her had turned her way. Humiliation rose inside her.
‘I’m not dieting,’ she hissed. ‘I told you, Mum, I’m just not hungry. Can’t you leave it?’
Beth felt her mum’s hand pull away from hers and they fell into silence. She took a sip of her coke, trying not to cry. The room that had felt warm and comforting earlier now felt stifling, the wood smoke from the fire beginning to sting her eyes.
When the pub door opened, letting in a welcome breath of fresh air, she was relieved. Looking up, she saw a couple with a small dog on a lead. It must have started raining as their hoods were up. They made their way between the tables, the dog snuffling beneath them for crumbs, and it wasn’t until they passed their table, and the woman had pulled down her hood, that Beth realised who she was. It was her art teacher, Mrs Snowdon. Quickly, she bent her head so her brown hair fell around her face. Maybe, if she was lucky, her teacher wouldn’t recognise her.
She hadn’t been quick enough.
‘Beth… Mrs Travis. I wondered if we’d meet anyone we knew today.’
Beth’s heart sank. Dragging her fingers through her hair and pulling it away from her face, she gave a half-hearted smile. ‘Hi.’
Her mum looked up, but her face was still troubled. ‘Oh, hello, Mrs Snowdon.’
The little dog was straining at the leash, trying to reach a crisp that had found its way onto the floor. Mrs Snowdon pulled at his lead. ‘I knew we shouldn’t have brought him. He’s such a scavenger.’
Beth was starting to feel sick. Willing her teacher not to say anything, she reached down and stroked the dog’s head. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Sherlock.’
‘That’s a good name.’
‘He’s never been able to keep his nose out of things, so I suppose it is.’
There was a pause and Beth felt her teacher’s eyes on her. She knew she daren’t look up in case her face gave her away. She was saved by Mrs Snowdon’s husband, who had joined them.
‘All the tables are taken in here, but the girl says there’ll be one free soon in the other bar.’
‘That’s good.’ Mrs Snowdon wound the dog’s lead around her hand and pulled him away from the table. ‘It was nice to see you.’
She started to walk away and Beth felt her shoulders relax. It seemed that things were going to be all right after all. Mrs Snowdon hadn’t gone far though, when she turned back.
‘I forgot to ask, Beth. Are you feeling better?’
She felt her face redden as she met her teacher’s eyes. ‘I am, yes… Thanks.’
Mrs Snowdon’s eyes remained on hers a fraction longer than was necessary, then she smiled. ‘That’s good. Look, here’s your dad. I’ll leave you to your meal.’
With a parting smile, she and her husband moved off into the next room, leaving Beth with a heart that seemed to be beating unnaturally loudly.
‘You all right, Beth? You look like someone’s killed the cat,’ her dad said, sitting down. ‘Which teacher was that?’
‘Mrs Snowdon. My art teacher.’ How much had he heard? Or
her mum, come to that? If her mum knew that the absence note Beth had sent to the form teacher had been from her email address, she’d kill her.
Her dad nodded at the teacher’s disappearing back. ‘Wasn’t she the one we met at the open morning, Leona?’
Her mum didn’t answer. Her forehead was pressed to the window and she looked miles away.
‘Leona?’
‘What? Oh yes, she was.’
She said no more and Beth took a gulp of her drink, relief washing over her. She’d got away with it. The crisis had been avoided. One thing was clear, though. She wasn’t going to be able to get away with any more days off. She’d have to go back to school on Monday and take whatever Carina and the others threw at her.
Five
Leona
I sit bolt upright, my chest tight and my heart racing. What woke me? My senses are on high alert as I try to control my ragged breathing, I wonder whether I’ve had a nightmare, but, if I have, I can’t remember it. There’s a fear I can’t get rid of, a feeling that something awful is going to happen, but I’ve no idea what. Reaching a hand to my neck, I feel it slick with sweat and my nightdress is soaking. I want to take it off, but my arms won’t respond. My legs feel trapped too, pinned down by the heavy duvet.
Scott is asleep beside me. I hear rather than see him, wondering why I don’t find the sound of his breathing comforting. With no street lights to give relief, the room is in complete darkness. It hasn’t bothered me before, but now the velvety blackness is claustrophobic.
In a panic, I throw out my arm to turn on the bedside light, but, instead of the switch, my hand makes contact with the glass of water that I left on there last night. As it topples over, the sound of the glass hitting the bedside table causes Scott to stir. With a grunt, he reaches for his own light switch, then turns and looks at me.
He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. ‘Jesus, Leona. What happened?’