by Cross, Amy
She's still at the fridge, still with her back to me, still holding a plate.
“I'm sorry to be so blunt,” I tell her, “but time's not on my side. It's going to happen quickly, and I might only have a couple more months. Or less. So I really need to know whether you can take Daniel in, because there's no-one else. He's a good kid, he's smart and bright and he helps around the house. He's strong, too, and he has a lot of common sense. I don't think he's gonna grow up and be one of those teens who cause a load of trouble. Really, he's an asset to any home, and -”
“You don't need to tell me that my grandson is a good boy,” she replies, interrupting me but still not turning to look this way. From the trembles in her voice, I can tell that she's struggling to hold back tears. “I know that already. I can see it in his eyes.”
“So can he come and live with you?”
She pauses, and then finally she turns to me. To my surprise, there really are tears in her eyes.
“You can think about it for a while,” I continue, “but I need to know soon. If you can't take him in, I'm gonna have to ask Gary, and I hardly think my brother and his delightful girlfriend are in a position to look after another kid. They're the least responsible people on the planet. Daniel'd end up looking after them.”
“Well of course he can stay here,” she replies, taking the plate from the fridge and swinging the door shut, before heading over to the table on the far side of the room. “He can stay as long as you need, until you're back on your feet. You don't even have to ask.”
“Back on my feet?”
“Through this latest round of treatment, or whatever they're going to do to you next.”
“There's no latest round of treatment, Mum.”
“So what are they going to do?”
“Nothing,” I reply, feeling a knot of irritation. “Mum, that's what I've been trying to explain. I thought I'd come up with some soft and gentle way to tell you, but I think I just have to be blunt. It's over. There's no more fighting to be done, and if you're wondering how I'm so calm, it's because I've known for a long time that it was gonna end like this. Remember when people told me after the diagnosis that I'd beat the cancer? Yeah, well, I knew all that they were wrong. I knew I wouldn't recover.”
“Nothing's ending,” she mutters, fussing over some more foil. “You're being melodramatic, as usual.”
“I need to know that you can take care of my son.”
“You don't think of other people very much, do you?” She sets another piece of foil over the pie, but now her hands are trembling. “You come waltzing in here, with barely any warning, and now you're telling me that I have to look after the boy for a few months. Well of course I'm going to look after him, he's my flesh and blood, but the timing is very inconvenient. Not that I'm complaining, mind. I never complain, I just get on with things, no matter how trying they might be. I suppose I shall just get on with this, while you're off swanning around and -”
“I'm dying,” I reply, interrupting her.
“This quiche is a little dry.”
“The cancer has spread.”
“I'll have to freshen it up.”
“It's not just in my liver anymore.”
“I know a trick for fixing a dry quiche, though. A little cup of water in the microwave should do the job.”
“It's in my spine and my kidneys and my lungs.”
She pours some water into a cup.
“Lovely,” she mutters as she heads over to the microwave.
“They think it'll be quite quick, and I've got painkillers that'd knock out an elephant.”
“I must teach you some of these tricks. What do you feed that poor boy at home, anyway? Ready-meals?”
I want to strangle her right now, but I refuse to explode or scream. This might be one of the last times I ever see her, and life is too short to waste breath on venting. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself to stay calm.
“He'll be useful around the house,” I tell her. “He's strong. He can fetch things for you from the store. He can mow the lawn.”
“I wish you'd called ahead.” She sets the plate on another table. “I could have bought some fresh bacon.”
“He's going to need you, Mum.”
“Perhaps I'll make some garlic bread to go with it.”
“When I'm gone, he -”
“Oh, will you stop it?” she screams suddenly, turning to me.
Startled, I take a step back.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” she yells, her whole body trembling with rage as she puts her hands over her ears. “How am I supposed to make dinner for two house-guests when I didn't know they were coming? I mean I can do it, but not with these constant interruptions!”
“Mum, I -”
“I know you're dying!” she shouts. “Everyone knows you're dying! Look at you, you're almost yellow, for God's sake! You don't have to keep going on and on about it!”
She lowers her hands and then wipes tears from her eyes.
“If you're not going to help,” she continues breathlessly, “you could at least get out of my hair and let me get on with the task at hand. Those tomatoes won't chop themselves!”
She pauses, before taking the plate and heading over to the microwave.
I open my mouth to apologize, before realizing that I don't really have anything to apologize for. Sighing, I head to the fridge and pull the door open, and then I take out a bowl of cherry tomatoes.
“Do you want them in with the salad leaves,” I ask, “or on the side?”
Chapter Four
Daniel
Nana's house is creepy.
Like, it's the kind of house where you can just tell that stuff happened here in the past. You can feel it in the air. Even now, as I make my way slowly up the dark stairs, I can feel and hear the steps creaking under my feet and I can't help wondering whether they've always creaked like this, for all the people who lived here before Nana moved in.
Stopping at the top, I look along the landing and see all the doors leading off into various rooms.
This is an old house. It's even older than Nana. That means people have lived here in the past, and if people have lived here in the past, then people have died here in the past. And maybe, just maybe, that means it's easier for ghosts to appear here than in, for example, an apartment in the city. I mean, I totally don't believe in ghosts when I'm in London, when there are people all around, but out here in the middle of nowhere...
Stepping over to the window, I peer out at the yard and spot the ash house down below. There's no-one there right now, of course. Why would there be? No-one would bother using an ash house anymore. The only movement comes from a few leaves blowing across the yard, and even the forest looks completely still. I can't help watching the ash house, however, and for some reason I've got this really strong feeling that someone might be in there. Even as I look at the entrance on this side, I realize I can see something poking out slightly.
I lean closer to the window and squint.
Is that a hand?
“Daniel!”
Startled, I gasp as I turn to look down the stairs.
“There you are,” Nana says, gesturing for me to join her. “Come on, I need you to set the table. Dinner's almost ready.”
“Coming,” I reply, before turning to look back out the window.
There's definitely no hand in the ash house's entrance now, and I guess there wasn't before. There can't have been. Still, I watch for a moment longer before heading downstairs to do the table.
Chapter Five
Diane
“Daniel is doing amazingly at school,” I continue as we all sit at the table in the dining room. “Aren't you, Daniel? You got that, what was it, some kind of commendation? In one of your classes?”
He doesn't reply.
He just shovels another spoonful of quiche into his mouth and then starts chewing slowly. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was intentionally keeping his mouth full as much as possible, so
as to avoid having to say anything. Maybe I should try the same trick.
“Anyway,” I add, turning to Mum, “he's been getting really high grades. And that's not even with me pushing him. I'm not some kind of helicopter parent.”
“That's very good, Daniel,” Mum tells him. “School work is important.”
“So what I'm saying,” I continue, “is that I think he could handle a school move just fine. And he always does his homework without any prompting.”
“I understand,” Mum replies.
“There's none of that nagging you need with other kids,” I tell her. “Each evening, he comes home and does his chores like a good boy, then we have dinner, and then -”
“I get it,” she adds.
“And I checked online, and I saw St. Martin's is still rated really highly as a -”
“I get it, Diane,” she says firmly, and this time I can tell that maybe I've gone a little too far.
I thought I was being subtle. I planned to be subtle. Somewhere along the way, however, I ended up blundering into the subject like a bull in a china shop.
I look down at my food, but to be honest my stomach is churning and I feel like I'll throw up if I take even the smallest nibble. Even the smell is making me queasy.
“So how have you enjoyed exploring the place?” Mum continues, and I look over to see that she's waiting for Daniel to respond. “I'm sure you're not used to so much freedom in London. We're out in the middle of nowhere, but there are certain advantages to that. If you like roaming about, you'll find mile after mile of forest, and a church with a little cemetery, and then eventually there's the town itself. A boy with an imagination could really have some fun out there.”
That's good.
She's making an effort with him.
After a moment, however, he merely shrugs. Clearly he's not very impressed.
“I suppose it can take time to get used to the change,” Mum continues, offering a faint smile that he'd see if he actually looked up from his plate. “Technically, my property ends at the chain-link fence, but there's nothing stopping you playing in the forest. There's mile after mile of land out there, and you're almost guaranteed to never run into anyone else. There's a lot to explore. Even after a year, you'll still -”
“We're not staying here for a year,” Daniel says suddenly, turning first to her and then to me. “Are we?”
I open my mouth to tell him we'll be here for a while, but the words catch in my throat. Something about his stare makes me feel uncomfortable, as if maybe he senses I have an ulterior motive for bringing him out here this weekend. Again, subtlety doesn't seem to be my strong point, not when I'm feeling so desperate.
“There's no real plan,” I tell him. “We'll just play it by ear.”
“But don't we have to be back by Monday?”
“Not necessarily.”
“I have school on Monday.”
“I told Principal Best you might be away for a short while.”
“Why?”
“Well, it's a long drive out here, so we don't want to be racing back.”
“You never let me take time off school.”
“Well, I am right now.”
“Why?”
“We'll talk about that later.”
I glance at Mum and immediately see that she disapproves.
“It's complicated,” I continue, forcing a smile that's probably desperately unconvincing. “Come on, Daniel, most boys your age would be happy to get a few days off school. Would you rather be sitting in a classroom, reading some boring old book, or out here where -”
Suddenly I feel a gurgling pain in my gut, on the left side, and I immediately look down at my plate so that Daniel won't see that anything's wrong. The pain persists, twisting and snaking through the left side of my body, briefly extending as far as my ribs before starting to fade. It'll be back, I know that, and this particular type of pain rarely comes alone. Already, I can feel a faint ache in the lower part of my spine.
“Don't you have to be at the hospital on Monday?” Daniel asks after a moment.
I shake my head, still looking down at the plate. The pain is coming back and I'm starting to sweat.
“I thought -”
“Give your mother some peace,” Mum says, clearly sensing that I'm not feeling well. “If I didn't know better, Daniel, I'd be starting to think you're not happy to come and visit. It's not as if we see one another very often, is it? The last time I visited you in London was, oh, at least two years ago!”
“Of course I don't mind coming,” he replies, “I just don't get why I've been taken out of school, that's all. Mum always says it's really important to study.”
“Excuse me a moment,” I mutter, barely able to get the words out as I stand and hurry to the door. I feel dizzy and nauseous, and the last thing I need is to have an attack in front of my mother and my son.
“Are you okay, Diane?” Mum calls after me.
I mumble something about being fine, but as soon as I'm out in the hallway I start running to the downstairs bathroom. Something about the smell of the food has made my stomach cramp up, and I don't trust myself to stay at the table and not look sick. In fact, by the time I reach the bathroom, I can feel something trying to get out, so I lock the door and turn the tap on to make some noise, and then I get down onto my knees in front of the toilet.
Almost immediately, I start gagging, and sure enough I bring up a little mucousy packet from the back of my throat. I spit it out into the bowl, and when I look down I see that there's blood.
Lots of blood.
Chapter Six
Daniel
“I saw you were out at the ash house earlier,” Nana says, breaking the silence at the dinner table after several minutes have passed. “It's a fun little thing, isn't it?”
I look over at her, and it's clear that she's trying desperately to make conversation. To be honest, I feel a little sorry for her, so I guess I should make an effort even though really I just want to leave the table and go upstairs.
“It's alright,” I mutter. “I suppose.”
“It looks like a house for pixies,” she suggests with a forced grin. “That's what I always used to think when I first moved here.”
I shrug.
“You know, when your mother was little,” she continues, “she used to play out there all the time. She used to play all by herself quite a lot. And even though she had that whole wonderful big forest to play with, do you know where she spent most of her time?”
“The ash house?” I suggest, figuring that she kind of already told me.
“Exactly. I used to wonder what she was doing in there, but I suppose it was like a little base for her. A place of her own. It took a few years before I realized that, but now I'm glad she had that time. I'm sure it gave her a sense of independence. Is that something you felt when you were in there earlier? Did you feel like the ash house was your personal little space? Because I never go in there, I promise you. I don't even think I could, not with my bad back and these tired old hips.”
I wait for her to continue, but she falls silent and I think she's expecting me to stay something.
I open my mouth, but at the last moment I hear a faint but clear creaking sound coming from the stairs. I turn and look over at the hallway door, but now the house is silent again and there's no sign of anyone. I wait a few seconds longer, before turning back to Nana.
“Did you live here alone?” I ask. “Before Mum and I arrived, I mean.”
“I did,” she replies, sounding a little uncomfortable. Her eyes briefly look toward the hallway, as if she heard the creaking sound, but she quickly turns back to me. “Don't worry, though. I like having company.”
“Wasn't it weird?”
“Why?”
“Being here all by yourself, in a big house.”
“Oh, I got used to that pretty quickly after your mother moved out. Some people are just built for a little solitude, Daniel, and I'm one of them. I go spare if I'm int
errupted or bothered too much. I really like the silence.” She smiles, before suddenly reaching out and placing a hand on my shoulder. “Not that I'm not glad you're here, of course. Don't think that for one minute. All I mean is that I was quite happy pottering about on my own. That's all.”
“Can I ask you another question?”
She smiles. “Of course you can, Daniel.”
I hesitate for a moment.
“Are there any ghosts here?” I ask finally.
“Heavens, why would wonder that?” She seems genuinely surprised. “Of course there aren't. There aren't any ghosts anywhere, you silly thing.”
“Is there anyone else who might play outside? In the ash house, maybe?”
She furrows her brow.
“I was just wondering,” I continue, thinking back to the hand I spotted earlier. Or thought I spotted. “Have you really never seen or heard anything?”
“I'm afraid I'm a rather straightforward person,” she replies with a faint smile. “I'm not given to flights of fancy, Daniel. I keep my feet on the ground and I get on with more earthly matters. I envy anyone who has time to think about such impossible things as ghosts and things that go bump in the night, but I'm afraid I never have a spare second.”
Before I can reply, I hear another creaking sound, this time coming from the room directly above us. I look up at the ceiling and wait, in case the sound comes again, but the house is silent now.
Still, I know what I heard.
“Do you like your dinner?” Nana asks suddenly, a little louder than usual, as if she's trying to cover up the silence. “There's plenty more where that came from, you know. You mustn't be shy about going in the fridge, any time of the day or night. You're a growing boy and you need your food.”