Blue Moon

by Julia Green

  ‘Tell me. What did she say?’

  Mia tried to explain. It didn’t seem to make much sense now. She told Becky about the baby, the miscarriage.

  Becky sat up on the bed. ‘So when did she leave? How old were you?’

  ‘Six. Nine years ago.’

  ‘You nearly had a little sister. Or brother, I suppose. They’d be about nine now. Weird, isn’t it?’

  A nine-year-old little sister.

  But she hadn’t stayed. Had taken flight.

  Mia and Becky lay on the bed, listening to snippets of adult conversation drifting up the stairs.

  ‘What about Laura? And Kate?’ That was Alice’s voice. Mum.

  Laughter spiralled up from the kitchen.

  Annie, Will’s mother, said something about exams.

  ‘They can wait. That’s not the most important thing right now.’

  Becky nudged her in the ribs. ‘Did you hear that? That must be a first for your dad. Blimey!’

  The door pushed open slightly and the cat padded into Mia’s room. He stared up at them with his big round yellow eyes and then jumped on to the window sill. His jaw quivered involuntarily as he watched small birds hopping branch to branch on the tree.

  ‘Silly old Apple Pie! He won’t go out; it’s too cold and wet. The birds know. The garden’s covered in them this morning.’

  ‘So, when will your baby be born, Mia?’

  ‘May. I think. When you’re all doing GCSEs.’

  ‘But we’ll still be around. To see you and that. I’ll help you. It’ll be amazing, Mia. We’ll all help.’ Becky had her dreamy look again.

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘What about you and Will?’

  ‘I don’t know. It sort of feels like it’s nothing to do with him really. I know he’s the father and that, but it was my choice, wasn’t it, to keep the baby? I don’t expect him – well – it’s up to him to choose what he does, about the baby I mean. I don’t want to force him into anything. It wouldn’t work, would it?’

  ‘I suppose not. But he’s still its dad. You can’t change that. And kids need both parents.’ Becky flushed. ‘Sorry, Mia. But they do. Even if you had to do without your mum.’

  ‘She was there when I was really little. It was Dad who wasn’t at first really. You know, always at work or working at home, thinking about other things all the time, not us. That’s what Mum meant. That’s what the trouble was with them; what it was like for her, doing everything.’

  ‘Becks? Mia? Pizza’s ready!’ Becky’s mother called upstairs.

  They sat up again. Becky looked around Mia’s bedroom critically. ‘We’ll have to do something about this room. You haven’t changed anything in here for years!’

  ‘Guess not. I can be your new project. You can re-design me, for your GCSE Textiles assignment. “Room for a teenage mother and baby.”’

  ‘Two rooms. Yours and a nursery. Stars on the ceiling, and a sort of watery theme: seaside, with shells and starfish and a frieze of little crabs going round the walls.’

  ‘Just one room actually. The baby will be with me. I’m not going to shove her off in another room all lonely-only.’

  ‘Or him.’

  ‘Well, yes, or him.’

  ‘You can find out, you know. In advance.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to. That would spoil it. You know, the first meeting.’

  ‘We can think of names together! Make lists!’ Becky was getting excited again.

  Mia laughed out loud. She hadn’t laughed like that for ages.

  ‘Let’s get our pizzas first.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Sunday morning. No one else was awake. Snow on the lane was rutted and stained rusty with car tracks. Melting snow slid from bramble branches and grasses along the road edge. On the footpath, shaded all day by overhanging trees, the snow still lay untouched. Mia’s boots crunched. Each creaking step took her back. They hadn’t had snow like this for years.

  She was four or five years old. Mum stood at the open window, watching her three small daughters playing on the snow-covered lawn.

  ‘What are you girls doing? You’ll be wet through!’

  ‘We’re making angels, Mum. We’re showing Mia how.’

  ‘Again!’

  ‘Find a new space, Mia. Fresh snow. That’s better. Then a big step, into the middle. There. Now flop straight back. Put your arms out. Swish them up and down for the wings. Now, carefully. Up. Don’t tread on your angel.’

  ‘I did an angel!’

  ‘You did! All by yourself. A little one.’

  ‘The garden is full of angels. There’s no more spare snow.’

  Their field – Will’s and hers – lay untouched by footsteps. Just the light tracks of birds, and the deeper prints of a fox, perhaps. Will would know. That was the sort of thing he did know about.

  The air was sharp on her face as she came out of the tree-sheltered path on to the track above the beach. She couldn’t remember seeing snow on pebbles before. The sea was grey, moving in and out with a gentle shushing sound. Further along the beach towards Whitecross a child stood at the water’s edge, chucking pebbles into the sea, too far off for her to hear the sound of stones plopping in, or boots crunching over shingle. A flock of gulls swerved round in an arc, light reflecting off their wings as they turned.

  Mia scuffed along the tide-line like she always did, half searching for treasures washed up by the tide, not really expecting anything. A pretty shell perhaps, or a bright skein of rope, a dried-up skate’s egg pouch. Mermaid’s purses.

  The child had disappeared. Mia had the whole strip of beach to herself.

  Her hands and feet were freezing. She walked faster, feet slipping on wet stones and seaweed. The tide was running out fast over the flat beach. As the sea drew further back, a gleaming strip of gravely sand was left behind. Mia’s boots left soft prints that filled with water almost immediately and disappeared.

  The clouds were thinning above the grey water. Between them stretched a slice of turquoise sky, fading to the palest, most delicate pastel blue. Baby blue. A thin curve of new moon floated just above the horizon.

  Sometimes it turns out OK, of course. Once in a blue moon.

  She bent down to pick up a small white feather, brushed it against her cold cheek. Soft as a new-born baby’s downy head.

  When she looked up she saw the child again, perched on a rock at the edge of the sea. Now she recognized the small, slight form, the wispy hair. Lainey! Her heart lifted. She waved and called out, but the wind snatched her voice away.

  Mia began to run, her feet splashing up wet sand. She stretched her arms out wide, feeling the rush of cold air in her lungs. She was part of it all, the beach, the sea, the sky. Faster and faster she ran, right along the beach towards Lainey, the wind icy on her cheeks. For just this moment, Mia felt almost light enough to fly.

  But once in a while the odd thing happens,

  Once in a while the dream comes true,

  And the whole pattern of life is altered,

  Once in a while the moon turns blue.