Butterfly Summer

by Anne-Marie Conway

  “What do you mean you haven’t told her, Tracy? That’s the whole reason you came back to Oakbridge in the first place. You’ve got to tell her. However difficult it is, she’s got a right to know what happened!”

  I fumbled with the key, straining to hear what they’d say next. They were talking about the photo. About the baby. They had to be. I’d never heard Mum and Stella argue before. Stella knew something and she obviously thought I should know too. My legs felt weird, as if they’d forgotten what to do, and I had to force myself to walk through the door and into the kitchen.

  Mum was sitting at the table; Stella was by the stove facing her. It was almost funny in a way, like one of those freeze-frame scenes we used to do in drama: Your daughter has just overheard you and your friend talking about a secret from the past. 1...2...3...FREEZE!

  Mum looked as if she might stay frozen for ever, but Stella took a step towards me, her arms stretched out for a hug.

  “Hello, Becky, my love. Have you had a nice day? Your mum and I were just having a little chat.” She glanced at Mum, but it was as if she’d turned to stone. “Come on, Tracy. Becky’s here and you’ve got something to tell her, haven’t you.”

  I stared past Stella at Mum.

  “I’ve left my job,” she said, her lips barely moving. “I wasn’t going to say anything but Stella said you had a right to know.”

  There was something else too, there had to be. I glanced back at Stella, willing her to challenge Mum. To force her to tell me everything.

  “I’ll be off then,” said Stella stiffly.

  “No, don’t go yet,” I cried. “I’ll make a cup of tea, or some lemonade. Please, Stella.” But she grabbed her bag and keys and made for the door.

  “I’ll see you soon, Becky, my sweet. You come over to my place any time you want. And I mean that.”

  She gave Mum one last long look and swept out. It was hopeless. Mum would never tell me the truth without Stella there to make her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, as soon as the front door closed. “It was the workload, you see, it just got too much for me. They were very nice about it, but I was totally out of my depth. I felt like I was drowning. I don’t want you to worry though, Becky. I’ll start looking for something new first thing tomorrow.”

  “But you’ve hardly given it any time at all. What’s going to happen to us if you don’t have a job? Will we even stay in Oakbridge?”

  Mum gave a shaky laugh. “Something will turn up, you’ll see.”

  I walked across the kitchen and turned on the kettle. My hand trembled as I pushed in the button. I knew Mum had been struggling at work – that she was snowed under – but I was sure Stella had been talking about something else when she said that I had a right to know what happened. It was the perfect moment to confront Mum. I’d overheard them talking and she knew it.

  Who’s the baby? Where’s my dad? Why are you lying? Three simple questions, but it was my turn to freeze. It was something about the way she was sitting there, as if she might crumble into a million pieces.

  “Why am I so scared of water?” I said. It was the wrong question but it seemed a safer place to start. “Did something happen to me? When I was little?”

  Mum picked up a piece of blue puzzle, scanning the small section of sky she’d already done to see where it should go.

  “Are you even listening? I want to know why I’m so scared of the water. Why haven’t I ever learned how to swim?”

  “You never wanted to,” she muttered, without looking up.

  My hands were itching to shake her. “Yes, but those lessons in Year Three – why didn’t I go? Everyone else in my class went. Even Davina Patel, and she was scared of everything. But I stayed back every week, remember?”

  “You begged me to let you stay back.” She was still trying to fit that stupid piece of blue into the sky.

  “But why?” I was shouting now. Mum was doing what she always did – closing up, shutting down. Impossible to reach.

  “For goodness’ sake, Becky! There’s no need to raise your voice. I’m sick of you hassling me all the time. I can’t cope with it, I told you.” She pressed her fingers to the side of her head.

  “Not a headache! Don’t tell me you’ve got a headache. Why do you always do this? You heard what Stella said. I’ve got a right to know!”

  “But I’ve already told you. We were talking about my job.”

  “No you weren’t. You’re lying to me!”

  We stared at each other, shocked. It was the bluntest thing I’d ever said to her in my life.

  “And I’m going swimming.” The words flew out of my mouth before I even knew they were there. “I’m going swimming with Mack and you can’t stop me.”

  That got her attention. She dropped the piece of sky and scraped her chair back, standing up to face me.

  “You’re not going swimming, Becky Miller. I forbid it.” She took a step towards me, folding her arms across her chest.

  “And did you forbid it in Year Three as well? Is that why I never went for lessons?” I trawled my mind trying to remember. Was it me who didn’t want to go swimming? Or did Mum stop me from going? The memories were there, but they were fuzzy, out of reach.

  Mum stood her ground. “Of course I didn’t forbid it. You begged me to get you out of those lessons. You were terrified.”

  “But why?” I was so angry I wanted to smash something. “Why was I terrified? Why?” I blinked back tears. Couldn’t she see how much I needed to understand?

  “I’m not shifting on this, Becky,” was all she said. “You’re not going swimming and you’re not to see Mack again. Is that clear?”

  My shoulders sagged. I was never going to get through to her. It was like trying to get through a locked door without the key. It didn’t matter how hard or how many times I banged on it, it was never going to open. But a feeling was growing inside me like a hot ball of fire in my belly. I was sick of being frightened all the time. Of being like Mum. I wanted to learn how to swim. And I wanted Mack to teach me.

  I left Mum standing in the kitchen. She could keep as many secrets as she liked – but she couldn’t physically stop me from seeing Mack. I tried to text him straight away but there was no signal. Instead I lay in bed, working out what I should say. Can you give me some swimming lessons? I do want to go swimming but I’ll probably need some lessons first. I didn’t want him to think I was asking him out, or that it was a date or anything.

  Before we moved to Oakbridge, I’d really liked this boy called Jamie Palmer. Half the girls in school fancied him, including Laura. He never paid us the slightest bit of attention, but it didn’t seem to matter back then. He was in Year Nine and totally out of reach. It was enough to moon over him in private, doodling his name on our exercise books, lying in wait just to catch a glimpse as he came out of class or ate his lunch.

  I blushed, remembering how we used to argue over who was going to marry him and how many children we’d have. We’d do this silly thing where we’d spin a bottle and if it stopped facing me then I was the one he loved the most and if it stopped facing Laura it was her. It seemed so babyish suddenly, like playing with Barbies or dressing up.

  Halfway through the year he started going out with this beautiful girl called Amira. I took a photo of her once, without her knowing. I pored over it, trying to see what she had that I didn’t. I tried to work out if it was her hair, or her eyes or something about the way she smiled. I spent hours in front of the mirror trying to mimic that smile, until my face ached with the effort.

  They didn’t date for very long. He dumped her for this girl Sascha, and then dumped Sascha for someone else again. Three girls in a month, each one prettier than the last. Laura and I would sit round at hers, swapping bits of gossip. Dissecting every last piece of news: he was the best kisser. He was the worst kisser. He’d kissed all the girls in Year Nine. We loved talking about him – convinced it would all be so different if only he’d date one of us...

  The next
morning I snuck out before Mum woke up, and wandered down the lane, waiting for my phone to come to life. My fingers were all over the place as I asked Mack to meet me at the green on Thursday morning at ten. I pressed send before I could change my mind. My heart was about to burst out of my chest. It was only a text, but it was the scariest thing I’d ever done. Mooning over Jamie Palmer was easy – he was never going to notice me in a million years. But this was different.

  Seconds later, my phone vibrated. One new message:

  What took you so long? See you Thursday. M.

  I rushed back home and made Mum a strong, black coffee. The kitchen was a mess, but the most important thing was to get her out of bed so she could start looking for a new job. My heart was still going a million miles an hour as I climbed the stairs to her room. She was curled up under her sheet, her knees all the way into her chest as if she was trying to protect herself from something. It made me want to stretch her out straight just to prove to her that she was safe.

  “It’s nearly ten,” I said, fussing around. I opened the curtains and gave her a little shake. “Come on, Mum. It won’t do you any good staying in bed all day.”

  She groaned, pulling a pillow over her face. “Leave me alone, can’t you?” Her voice was thick with sleep. I eased the pillow off her face and wafted the coffee under her nose.

  “Come on, Mum. Sit up. Please.”

  She reached out for the mug, her eyes still shut tight, sloshing coffee over the sides.

  “Hot!” she gasped, grabbing at the front of her nightie to stop it burning. “Too hot!”

  It was nearly lunchtime by the time she was showered, dressed and downstairs. I put her sheets in the wash with her nightie and sat her at the kitchen table with the local paper, open at the jobs section. She’d been through a lot over the past few weeks, but I’d never seen her as bad as this.

  “What really happened at Hartons, Mum?” I asked gently. “Did you fall out with someone, or get into trouble over something? It’s not like you to give up so easily.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “It wasn’t just the job, Becky. It’s being back here, in Oakbridge. I’m finding it so difficult.”

  “But why? What are you finding difficult? It’s not because we rowed yesterday, is it?”

  She shook her head. “Of course not. It’s got nothing to do with you, Becky. It’s me. I just don’t feel right inside.” She took hold of my hand across the table. “It’s been wonderful seeing Stella again, more than wonderful, and I love being in the country, but there are so many memories...” The tears spilled over.

  It was awful; I didn’t know what to do. “I just wish you’d tell me what’s wrong. I wish you’d trust me. You were so excited about the job. I thought it was this big step up for you.”

  “It was, and I was excited...” She broke off, looking bewildered, as if she really didn’t understand why it had all gone wrong. “I’m sorry, Becky. I shouldn’t get so upset in front of you.” She took a deep, shaky breath, wiping her eyes. “I’m fine, really. Why don’t you pop out for a bit? Get some fresh air.”

  I went round the table to give her a hug. I didn’t want to leave, not when she was about to open up, talk about the past. “It’s okay, Mum. I’ll stay and keep you company. We could spend the rest of the day together if you like?”

  She held onto me, stroking my hair. “You’re such a good girl, but I’m fine, Becky, honestly. You get on and I’ll start looking through the paper, I promise.”

  I ended up running all the way to the Garden, worried about the time, shooting straight past Maggie and through to the little shop. I didn’t want Rosa May to have a go at me again.

  “You’re in a hurry,” said Joan. “Is everything okay?” She held out her little red stamp.

  “Everything’s fine,” I panted. “I’m just really late to meet my friend.”

  She looked confused for a moment, but there was no time to explain. Once Joan got started, it was impossible to get away.

  “Where on earth have you been?” cried Rosa May as I burst through the door. She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the bridge. “I’ve come up with this brilliant plan and I’ve been dying to tell you all morning.”

  “Hey, careful, you’re hurting me. I’m sorry I’m late, it’s just that my mum’s left her job and I didn’t want her to spend all day in bed.”

  “Oh no!” Rosa May slowed down, loosening her grip. “You won’t be moving, will you?”

  “I hope not. That’s why I had to make sure she was up, so she could start looking for something new straight away. She promised me she’d have a go, but she’s always promising things...”

  “Cheer up, Becky. Your mum might break all her promises but I never break mine.” She took my hand and laced our fingers together, squeezing them tight. “Remember our pact?”

  I nodded, squeezing back. “What’s this brilliant plan then?”

  She explained the whole thing as we made our way across the field and over the bridge, our hands still laced together.

  “My dad once told me that the adult Silver-studded Blue likes to feed off the nectar from a shrub called bell heather, and I’ve just found out that there’s a whole load of it growing right at the back of the Garden.”

  I always felt funny when Rosa May mentioned her dad – it gave me that hollow feeling in my tummy – but I didn’t say anything. “What does the heather look like?”

  “It’s a sort of pinky-purple colour, with bell-shaped flowers, and very pretty.” She started to run suddenly. “Come on, Becky! Today might be the day!”

  We found the bell heather growing in a completely deserted part of the Garden and lay down to wait. Hiding away there with Rosa May, it felt as if we were the only two people in the world. I’d never been to her house or met her parents or any of her other friends, but it didn’t seem to matter. The Butterfly Garden was our special place; like having a secret no one else could share.

  While we watched and waited, I told her about Mum. About how I’d heard Stella shouting at her and that we’d had a really big row. She hung onto every word, her eyes glued to my face as I described exactly what happened. The only thing I didn’t tell her was that I’d arranged to meet up with Mack. I really wanted to, but I knew she’d be hurt.

  “So do you think they were arguing about the photo?” she asked when I’d finished. “Is that what Stella meant when she said you had a right to know?”

  I nodded. “I think so. I can’t be sure, but you should’ve seen the way they froze when I walked in. She must’ve been discussing it with Stella, and for whatever reason she doesn’t want me to know. It’s not just the photo either. She won’t tell me anything about my dad and every time I ask her she gets one of her awful headaches or collapses in tears. I want to know why they broke up and why he disappeared before I was born, but she just won’t go there. It’s almost as if she wants to pretend the past never happened.”

  Rosa May sat up, pulling at the grass around her. “I’m never going to have children,” she said quietly.

  I pulled her arm. “Don’t be silly. You’ll change your mind when you’re older, I bet you anything.”

  “No, I won’t,” she said. “I’ll never change my mind.” Her voice was rock hard. “Grown-ups always lie to children. They lie and they let them down, and they say they love them but they don’t. Not really.”

  “What about your parents?” I asked. “I’ve never even met your dad and he works right here at the Garden.”

  “He’s too busy,” she said. “He doesn’t like me to bother him while he’s working, and my mum’s not around any more.”

  I looked at her, shocked. “What do you mean?”

  She didn’t say anything but her eyes glazed over and she started to blink very fast, as if she was trying not to cry.

  “Where is she, Rosa May? She’s not...dead, is she?”

  She nodded, turning away, but I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her. “But why didn’t you tell me? All these tim
es I’ve talked about my mum. Why didn’t you say?”

  I felt like my heart was going to break for her. I was always moaning about Mum, wishing she could be more like the other mums, more normal, but I knew I’d be lost without her.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Rosa May?” I said, stroking her hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. Her voice was muffled against my shoulder. “It was such a long time ago. I don’t like to think about it.”

  We didn’t spot the Silver-studded Blue that day or the next. We lay on our backs, staring up at the endless blue sky, talking and mucking about. The hours drifted by in a lazy haze of sunshine. We saw lots of blue butterflies, all of them after the sweet bell heather nectar, but none of them had delicate silver edging around their wings.

  Early on Wednesday afternoon, we noticed Joan from the souvenir shop coming towards us across the field. I’d never actually seen her outside before, and just for a moment I wondered if something was wrong. As soon as Rosa May realized she was headed our way, she leaped up and hid behind the nearest tree. “What are you doing?” I hissed, but she put her finger to her lips to shush me.

  “Oh, hello, dear,” said Joan a moment later, walking straight past the tree and stopping in front of me. “I really felt the need to stretch my legs, but it’s sweltering out here. Is your friend not coming to meet you today?”

  I was about to answer when Rosa May slipped out from behind the tree so she was standing directly behind Joan. “Erm...later on th-this afternoon,” I stammered, trying not to laugh. “She’s...erm...busy at the moment.”

  Joan began to tell me about her favourite butterfly, the Marbled White, and about how she’d spotted one on the way down to me, while Rosa May waved her arms around behind her, pretending to stamp her hand over and over like Joan does in her little shop. I held my breath to stop myself snorting. She looked so silly I thought I was going to burst.

  “Are you okay?” said Joan. “You’re ever so red in the face.”