Skylarks

by Karen Gregory

Seeing as we’re being the most open with each other we’ve ever been, I say, ‘I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to think – to be – ashamed of me, I guess.’

  Annabel reaches out for my hand. ‘I could never be ashamed of you.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She looks me in the face. ‘I’m sure. I promise.’

  ‘Then do you … when will … Are you going to come out? To anyone?’

  She hesitates.

  ‘I mean, I’m not trying to pressure you. I knew my family and friends would be OK and it was still a big deal for me. But at some point, you have to start being you. Properly you, you know?’

  ‘That’s not the –’ She bites her lip. I don’t want to push; it’s enough for now to know I’ve said it.

  ‘I think the same for you. Without arguing again,’ she gives a faint smile, ‘I really think you should consider university.’

  ‘I know.’ I sigh. ‘Maybe if I could find something I really wanted to do.’

  ‘I understand what you said, about money. I respect that. But just imagine for a minute that’s not a concern. What do you love?’

  I think about this in a way I’ve not let myself before. ‘Here. I mean, not just home and family, but here – the Downs, Avebury. We used to go to the Arboretum all the time and I loved looking at the trees. I guess I like, you know, nature and stuff. Wildlife.’ Then I give a laugh. ‘Not many jobs in that though, are there?’

  ‘What? Of course there are. Ecology, conservation, arboriculture … Have you done any research?’

  OK, she’s sounding like a teacher again. ‘No-o.’

  ‘Then that’s your prep. I challenge you to research five careers in nature you’d like to do, in the next week.’

  Just as I’m about to get annoyed again, she leans over and kisses me on the nose, as if to take some of the sting out of her words.

  It works.

  I can’t help smiling around her.

  ‘All right, I will. But “quid pro quo, Clarice” and all that.’ Not sure it’s the most romantic thing to be making The Silence of the Lambs references – she looks confused. I silently curse Jamie for showing me all those old horror films when I was Jack’s age. Although, the bollocking he got from Mum when she found out what he’d shown me was pretty funny. He was grounded for about a million years. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘Horses.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I love horses. I was never any use at competitions, but I love being around them. And I love the library, the children.’

  Actually, she’s not that bad with them. She brought in a load of craft stuff for the kids to do last toddler group and they’re really warming up to her.

  ‘I thought when Daddy sold Puzzle I’d never ride again, but recently, I’ve been feeling differently. I would love to open a riding school.’

  ‘There you go then.’

  ‘But it takes money, premises. And it isn’t exactly prestigious. Daddy would never let –’ She breaks off. ‘We were supposed to be talking hypothetically, weren’t we?’

  ‘Uh-huh. And like I said before, you work on your parents. Tell them what you want. Bet you anything they see it your way eventually. And if they don’t, then you get a job, work for it.’

  She nods. Looks like we’ve got a deal.

  It’s turned serious again here, but I’ve got an idea of something that will lighten things up. ‘Right, come with me.’ I lead her back to the stone circle, stopping at the deep ditch that rings the stones. I lie down. ‘We’re rolling.’

  ‘You are joking?’

  ‘Not even a bit.’ I grin. ‘Double dare you.’

  This doesn’t have the same effect as with Jack; she just screws up her face in confusion.

  ‘Watch me, then,’ I say and push off. I roll all the way down the hill, seeing flashes of sky, then earth; grass grazing against my arms as I pick up speed, and land with an oof at the bottom, breathless.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she calls.

  ‘Come down!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Go on. Carpe whatever it is.’

  She lies down gingerly. ‘I’m not sure this is quite …’

  ‘Don’t think, do!’

  She shuts her eyes, pushes off and comes flying towards me, shrieking. She lands in a heap and lies there with her eyes shut.

  ‘Annabel?’

  No answer.

  ‘Annie? Oh crap.’ I scramble over and see she’s moving. She’s OK. Thank God for that. If I’d got her hurt … hang on. ‘Are you laughing? Oh my God, you are as well. I thought you’d hurt yourself …’ I stop because she’s looking at me now and she’s giggling so hard she can’t stop. She reaches up and pulls me down and now I’m laughing too, arms round her.

  Eventually, we calm down. Annabel picks a piece of grass out of my hair. ‘That was amazing. The last time I did something like that was … do you know, I can’t remember?’

  ‘Good.’ I love seeing her have fun. I remember thinking how she just needed to unwind a bit, and I reckon I was right.

  We make our way back up the bank, holding hands. I notice Annabel doesn’t pull hers away even when she sees the older couple coming back. We’re not speaking, just being together. I feel as though we’ve come through something, like I’ve shown her another side to me, and she’s shown me herself too, the real her, and I love her even more for it …

  Wait. I love her?

  I stop.

  ‘What is it?’ Annabel says.

  I’m about to answer when I hear a trilling noise above our heads. I look up and there’s a skylark rising into the air and down again, singing its heart out. ‘Look.’ I whisper, so as not to frighten it away.

  Annabel follows my gaze.

  ‘It’s a skylark. They’re getting really rare – you never see them around here.’ I’m still whispering, but I squeeze her hand tighter and we watch the bird as it flies high above us, singing like it’s the only thing in the world that matters. And I feel it – not just that things here are beautiful, but that life can be beautiful. That there are possibilities.

  I turn to Annabel and I don’t say it out loud, but my eyes are telling her I’m falling in love with her and I think hers are saying the same thing back, and then we’re kissing under the skylark and the ancient stones and I know suddenly that what we have, where we’re going, is real.

  Real and beautiful and free.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘You are not going to believe it!’ Kelly is hopping about in the doorway to my room. She texted ten minutes ago. AMAZING NEWS!! Then, I’M COMING OVER.

  ‘I didn’t know you meant you’re coming right now,’ I say. ‘Who let you in?’

  ‘Jack. But shut up and listen to who might be coming to the march. Only Jemima.’

  Blank pause. ‘Who?’

  ‘Je-mi-ma?’ She stretches out each syllable. ‘She’s that singer – she was just nominated for best breakthrough artist at the Brits. How do you not know this?’

  ‘Err …’

  Kelly shakes her head. ‘Anyway. I’ve been chatting to her on Twitter and she’s retweeted a load of stuff and then she said she’d come. She only lives like twenty minutes away.’

  ‘But the march is tomorrow.’

  ‘Yeah and?’

  ‘So it’s a bit short notice. You sure she’s going to come?’

  Kelly flashes her phone at me. ‘Said she would. And look how many people have replied. I reckon we’re going to have a crowd.’

  ‘Maybe. Just don’t get your hopes –’ I stop abruptly. Mum’s words still come out of my mouth on occasion, out of habit, but I’m starting to feel differently these last few weeks. My parents don’t know everything.

  I scroll through the likes and comments and RTs on all the feeds, and realise something: this thing that started with a little blog in Jamie’s room is building up to be something way bigger.

  Annabel texts as we’re getting ready the next day. I’m so sorry. Mummy is insisting I come with
her to the brow bar for a ‘tidy up’. Pray for me. xxxx.

  So that’s Annabel out of the picture, but I don’t let it wreck my mood. Instead I say to Jack, ‘You ready?’

  ‘Yep,’ he grins.

  Me, Jamie, Deal, Kelly and Jack are all going to the meeting point we’ve set, by the old church. The plan is to meet whoever shows up there, then walk to Lattimer’s office to deliver a printout of the online petition, which so far stands at two thousand signatures, thanks to us working like mad to feed stuff out on social media. It might get to a lot more if Jemima shows up today, even though I secretly still think it’s a big if. Then we’re going to march up the High Street and stand in front of the Town Hall with our signs.

  ‘Are you?’ Jamie says to me.

  ‘I am, actually.’ I grab my sign, one of the twenty or so me and Jack made late last night. Deal’s brought some too, although his have a more, er, assertive theme. One of them has a picture of a pig in a bloody top hat. Our S.O.S. and Local Homes for Local People signs seem slightly tame in comparison.

  We pile the signs into Deal’s car, then all squeeze in, Jack wedged between me and Kelly in the back. The car is so loaded down I’m wondering whether it’ll actually make it up the hill, but it does, engine screaming, the windows open and Deal’s stereo blaring out some music with a heavy beat, that I don’t recognise.

  Deal pulls up and it’s not until he turns off the music that I look over towards the church.

  There’s complete silence in the car.

  Jamie speaks first. ‘Holy crap.’

  There’s got to be at least a hundred people. And a woman with massive sunglasses and a megaphone who I assume is Jemima.

  ‘I believe we’re going to need more signs,’ Kelly says, her smile smug.

  We bundle the signs out of the car while Kelly goes over to Jemima. She’s only a few years older than us. I can hear Kelly saying thank you in this high-pitched squeal.

  ‘No problem. I grew up near here – I know what it’s like. You should be proud of what you’re doing with all this,’ Jemima says. Kelly looks like she’s about to implode.

  I go over and Kelly introduces me. Deal’s handing out placards and instructions. Jack’s hopping about at my shoulder.

  There’s so many people here. Loads from the estate, of course, and their families and friends. I spot the rest of the gang: Pete and Ananya holding hands – I glance at Kelly but she shrugs – and Stace, perched on Ed’s shoulders, holding a banner. There’s others from school too, and – oh my God, my French teacher. I recognise Theresa and Mrs Jenkins, the nice woman from the newsagents I chat to sometimes. But also loads of people I’ve never seen. Some are Deal’s friends, with a seasoned protester air about them. A big group of Jemima fans are queuing in a messy line to get stuff signed, which she does super fast. We’re a strange mix, but that doesn’t matter.

  People are here for us.

  Then a battered car with a different coloured door panel on one side pulls up.

  ‘Mum!’

  She comes over, smiling in this amazed way at the crowd.

  ‘You came,’ I say.

  Mum gives me a hug. ‘I thought about what you said.’

  I nod.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this, got all these people here.’ Mum has actual tears in her eyes.

  ‘It was the others more than me,’ I say. ‘Did you tell Dad?’

  She shakes her head, then says, ‘But I will, when we get back. I can’t believe it,’ she repeats.

  Before I can answer, Deal’s shouting, ‘Let’s go!’ and everyone starts to move off. Jack scampers to be with Mum, who gestures to me to go on ahead, so I walk fast up the line until I’m with the group at the front – Jemima and her entourage, plus Deal, Jamie, Kelly and the gang.

  ‘Gonna have to put you down,’ Ed grunts to Stacey.

  ‘Why, are you saying I’m too heavy?’

  He grunts again and she swats him over the side of the head, then clambers off his shoulders. Me and Kelly raise our placards and then Deal gets a chant going as we walk up the High Street.

  The pavement’s wide and we walk four in a row, linking arms. Shoppers step back to let us past, some looking confused, others interested in the signs. One or two seem hacked off, but I don’t care. With the crowd behind me – singing, chanting, our feet stomping on the pavement together – I don’t feel small any more. I feel like I could lift up into the sky any moment. Kelly’s singing the loudest of all. When I look at her she grins – the same exhilaration I’m feeling, mirrored on her face.

  And in the middle of it all, I realise something. This is my home. Not just the estate, or the library, school or the Downs, but this town. I never completely felt like it was my place, like I belonged. But today I do. I fit. The adrenalin pumps through me, making my voice loud and powerful. And I’m suddenly filled with this rushing sense of things opening up, here with all these people behind me. Like we’re a proper community.

  We get to the alleyway leading to Lattimer’s office and Deal stops. Me and Jamie are going to be the ones to deliver the petition. The same blonde woman is behind the desk but she’s not looking so glossy today; she seems pretty alarmed.

  I smile at her and say, ‘We’re here to deliver a petition.’

  ‘I’m afraid surgery is by appointment only.’

  ‘Oh. Well, could you give it to him?’ I say.

  ‘Hang on.’ It’s Deal, behind him a man I recognise from his picture in the Evening Gazette and a woman holding a camera.

  ‘Hello, Evelyn,’ the man from the Gazette says. ‘Mind if we take a few pictures? These youngsters have gathered quite a crowd. I’m not sure we’ve seen the like of it for years.’

  Am I dreaming it, or does he wink at me?

  Evelyn snatches back the hand she’d been holding out for the petition. I don’t think she factored in being in the local rag today. ‘Wait here, please. I’ll speak to Mr Lattimer.’

  She disappears through a door and there’s the sound of voices rising and falling. The reporter looks at me, Jamie and Deal and says, ‘Can you tell me more about this protest?’

  Deal’s off straight away, the reporter asking loads of questions. He looks like someone just gave him a winning lottery ticket. I guess this is more exciting than reporting on escaped cows, although that story was pretty funny considering they took a nice long amble up the High Street and stopped all the traffic.

  A door opens suddenly and a sharp-suited Douglas Lattimer strides out. He shakes hands with everybody, saying, ‘I apologise. I was busy with another constituent. I understand you have something for me?’

  I stand next to Jamie and try to look confident as Jamie hands the petition over, the photographer taking a million pictures. Lattimer doesn’t stop smiling through the whole thing. It’s kind of freaky. Then he says, ‘Well, I’ll certainly give this my full consideration.’ He pauses as though he’s just remembered something and says, ‘I do hope you cleared this little gathering with the police? Got the correct permits in order? Under the usual procedure, I’d be notified you see.’

  ‘We don’t need them, we’re not blocking the road.’ Deal says.

  For the first time, Lattimer’s smile gets thin. ‘Let’s hope the police agree with you.’ Deal’s eyes flash and something seems to pass between him and Lattimer. Interestingly, Lattimer looks away first. Jamie bundles us out of there.

  ‘Is he right?’ I whisper.

  ‘Who? Lattimer or Dealo? Don’t actually know, but it’s a bit late now. Come on,’ Jamie replies and we rejoin the crowd, who are definitely spilling out on to the road now. My stomach starts up a nervous growl, but then we’re all marching again, Kelly shouting in my ear, ‘What did he say?’

  Then we’re at the Town Hall and we gather in front of Deal and Jemima on the steps. The people from the paper are definitely excited now, taking loads of pictures of Jemima, who makes a short speech. She says the word ‘solidarity’ a lot and clenches her fist to the camera. Th
ere’s phones out everywhere; this is going to be all over social media. Then Deal makes a speech and Jamie hops up too to say more about the campaign, but I shake my head when he holds the megaphone out to me. I’m happy listening to the ripples around me, people echoing what Jamie and Deal have said: that the buyout’s not fair, that we’re part of the community too. That we deserve a place to live that we can afford.

  ‘It’s a crying shame, is what it is,’ one older man shouts out and others around nod.

  A few minutes later, the first police car shows up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I know it shouldn’t, but seeing a police officer always make me feel like I’ve done something wrong. The woman seems quite smiley considering, as she asks who’s in charge. Probably helps she’s asked Mrs Bartlett from up the road, who is about as unthreatening as you can get. I notice one or two of Deal’s friends muttering to each other though and I’m sure one says ‘Pig’ but Deal goes over to shut them up, which they do, looking sulky.

  ‘Right then, I’m PC Smith. What are you lot all doing?’

  ‘Peaceful protest. We’re just finishing up,’ Jamie says.

  ‘We’ve had a complaint you’re blocking the road.’

  ‘That was an accident – we’re not now. Who was the complaint from?’ Jamie says.

  ‘I’m not able to say,’ PC Smith answers. She has this stern face on, but then she spots Jemima and goes pink. ‘Oh my … I didn’t realise … My daughter’s a huge fan.’

  ‘I can sign something if you want,’ Jemima says.

  The police officer’s face lights up, then she seems to remember what she’s doing and says, ‘I’m afraid that won’t be appropriate.’ She raises her voice. ‘I’m going to have to ask you all to leave.’

  There’s a few mutters at this, but then Jemima switches on the megaphone and shouts into it. ‘We’ve done what we needed to do today. Thanks for coming and remember to keep spreading the word. Watch this space!’

  The crowd starts to drift away. Someone brings round a couple of cars and after we’ve all said thanks, Jemima climbs in and gets driven off. I kind of wonder if we’ll ever see her again, other than in the paper.