Hush

by Sara Marshall-Ball

  The car started moving again, and Connie shifted so that she was upright in her seat, her feet on the floor. She could see out of the windscreen from this angle, the long line of brake lights arcing off into the distance. ‘How much longer?’

  ‘Depends how long the traffic lasts,’ Marcus replied. ‘Half an hour, maybe?’

  ‘Hurrah,’ Anna muttered under her breath.

  It turned out to be almost an hour. When they pulled into the tiny terraced street lined with box hedges and rosebush borders, it was to find Marcus’s father out in the front garden, trowel in hand, squinting gloomily at the clouds overhead. ‘Looks like rain,’ he said by way of greeting, giving his son a hug and kissing his daughter-in-law on the cheek. He put an arm round Connie’s shoulders and kept it there, squeezing her gently towards him. ‘Was the journey okay?’

  ‘Largely uneventful.’ Marcus hoisted a large rucksack on to his shoulders, shifting awkwardly under its weight. ‘Mum inside?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s making lunch. Lily’s in her room, I think.’

  ‘I’ll go and say hi.’ He disappeared inside, Anna trailing behind like a lost child.

  ‘And how have you been, trouble?’ He ruffled Connie’s hair and then released her from his grip. ‘They been taking care of you?’

  ‘Of course.’ She looked at the ground, tracing a circle in the lawn with her toe. ‘How’s Lily?’

  ‘Oh, she’s fine. I expect she’ll be back home with you soon enough.’

  ‘Is she talking yet?’

  ‘No, not yet. But no need to rush these things, hmm?’ He ruffled her hair again, looked as if he might say something, and then thought better of it. Instead he turned to the nearest rosebush, which was almost as tall as Connie. ‘Have you met Fred? He’ll be on top form by June.’

  She followed him around the front garden for a while, looking at shrubs on command, listening politely to the names and the histories even though she knew she would forget them as soon as she went indoors. It was something they did every time she came to visit, but she never remembered the details.

  After a while it did start to rain, so they went inside, to find Anna and Marcus standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The house smelled the same as it always did: slightly dusty, slightly flowery. The scent of roasting ham skated over the top of everything else.

  Her grandma stood at the hob, stirring something in a pan, and she beckoned Connie over when she saw her. ‘Do you want to try this? It should be about done. Have a taste and tell me what you think.’

  She held out a spoonful of soup and Connie sipped it obediently. ‘Mmm. It’s good.’

  ‘Excellent. That means lunch is ready, then. Do you want to go and tell Lily?’

  Connie shuffled upstairs, leaving the adults talking loudly as they pulled plates out of cupboards and set the table. The noise receded as she climbed the stairs, and was barely a whisper by the time she was outside Lily’s room. She knocked on the door, waited, and then realised she was being ridiculous: there was not likely to be any answering call of ‘come in’.

  The room was almost eerily still when she pushed open the door. Lily was sitting on her bed, staring out of the window; she turned her head for just long enough to confirm that it was her sister at the door, and then turned back to the outside world. ‘Hey, Lils,’ Connie murmured, but there was no answering response.

  She crossed the room and crawled on to the bed next to her sister. Lily shifted slightly to the left to let her sit down. Together, they looked down on the outside world.

  The room was at the back of the house, and from the window they could see a patchwork quilt of gardens stretching out into the distance: tiny strips of land, bordered by wooden fences and hedges, joined by trees which crept over the borders and spilled into neighbouring gardens. Connie could see her grandparents’ garden, with more of Grandpa’s beloved roses trailing the pathway on either side; the neighbouring gardens, less well tended but still obviously cared for; the gardens that backed on to the ends of them, wild and unruly, allowing their untamed hedgerows to push through the fences. The rain was still falling, and no one was outside; it was a dismal picture, grey sky as far as the eye could see and droplets of water slipping down the windowpane, blurring the view.

  ‘Grandma said to tell you lunch is ready,’ Connie said, her voice soft in the silence of the room. Lily didn’t move, and her expression didn’t change.

  ‘Mama and Dad fought all the way here. I don’t think Mama wanted to come. I think – well, I think she wanted you to come home, though she won’t admit it.’

  Connie watched out of the corner of her eye, but Lily still didn’t move.

  ‘You’d find some way to tell us if you hated it here, wouldn’t you?’

  There was no response for a minute, and then Lily slid off the bed and left the room. Connie sat and listened to her soft, plodding eight-year-old’s footsteps on the carpeted stairs. She waited until they’d reached the bottom and disappeared before she made a move to follow.

  Connie was surprised by how animated Lily seemed around their grandparents. She still didn’t speak, but she was noticeably more responsive – she made eye contact, she smiled, she looked as if she was paying attention to the world around her. She barely glanced in Connie’s direction, despite the fact that they sat opposite each other; but, positioned at the end of the table, with her grandmother to one side and her father to the other, Lily almost looked like a normal child having a normal dinner with her family.

  ‘We’ve been working on reading and writing,’ Grandma was saying, as she pushed the bowls from their soup starter to one side, and reached for the meat in the centre of the table. ‘Lily’s getting very good at writing. She’s been writing us letters, haven’t you, Lily?’

  Lily nodded, but didn’t look up. Connie watched as she pushed a slice of tomato backwards and forwards through a pile of salt. ‘You don’t need so much, Lils,’ Marcus said, but she ignored him and popped the tomato in her mouth, her eyes briefly meeting Connie’s before darting back to her plate.

  ‘She’s very good at maths, as well. I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about.’

  ‘I got in touch with the school, actually,’ Marcus said. Anna looked up, and Connie could see the surprise in her expression, though she didn’t say anything. ‘They’re happy to send out some guidelines to help you. Just some of the subject areas they’ll be working on each term, you know. Do you think that would be helpful?’

  ‘Absolutely. Though it depends how long you want her to stay here, obviously. There’s no point putting together a whole curriculum and then having you turn round and say you want to put her back in school in two weeks’ time.’ Grandma’s voice was firm, and Marcus looked slightly guilty.

  ‘Mum, you know if it’s too much to ask at any point – ’

  ‘That’s not what I’m saying at all.’ Connie saw Grandma’s gaze flick towards Lily, but Lily was still absorbed in her food and didn’t look up. ‘We love having her here. We love having all of you here,’ she added, with a pointed look at Anna. ‘But being a teacher is a lot of work, and, as much as I enjoy it, I would like to know whether there’s a long-term plan.’

  ‘Wouldn’t we all,’ Anna muttered.

  ‘Don’t start,’ Marcus said. ‘This was as much your idea as it was mine.’

  Anna shrugged, and picked sullenly at her ham, saying nothing. Connie, looking around the table, wondered whether anyone would notice if she got down from the table and didn’t come back.

  ‘How about we work on a month-by-month basis, for now?’ Marcus suggested. ‘That way you don’t have to plan too far ahead and we can keep an eye on Lily and see how she’s getting on.’ Marcus looked directly at Lily, as if remembering she was still there. ‘Does that sound okay to you, Lils? We don’t want to send you back to school before you’re ready, do we?’

  Lily nodded, too focused on her plate to look up. Connie watched her, willing her to make eye contact, but there was no response.
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  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Grandma agreed. ‘What about you, Connie? Have you been enjoying school lately?’

  Oh, so you do know I’m here, she thought, and then felt bad. It wasn’t Grandma she was angry with. She thought of the bruises on her ribs that were only just healing, and shrugged. They hadn’t caught her after school since that last time, but they’d become bolder in other places – tripping her up as she walked past them in the school halls, pinching her arms and pulling her hair when they sat behind her on the bus.

  ‘Well, secondary school’s a big adjustment,’ Grandma said, her voice gentle. ‘Especially after everything that’s happened.’

  ‘Maybe you’d like to look after Connie as well? Since she clearly can’t cope either?’ Anna’s voice was bitter, making Connie flinch.

  ‘Anna, there’s no need to be like that.’ Marcus sounded stern, parental. Connie’s eyes went to her grandparents. Grandpa was focused on eating his food, and looked as though he’d barely registered what was being said, but her Grandma was looking directly at Anna with what looked like pity.

  ‘Maybe we could go and have a drink, Anna?’ she suggested. ‘I’ve got some wine I’ve been meaning to open.’

  Anna, looking torn between shame and anger, nodded. She didn’t meet Connie’s eye as they disappeared into the kitchen.

  ‘I guess that’s dinner done with, then,’ Connie muttered. ‘You could have just left her at home. She’d have been much happier.’

  ‘We’re a family, Connie.’ Marcus’s voice was sharp, but there was an undertone of weariness, and he pushed away his plate with a sigh. ‘How about we go and sit in the living room? We could play a game.’

  The four of them went and sat on the living room floor. Marcus and Grandpa leaned their backs against the sofas and spread their legs out in front, their feet almost meeting in the middle. Lily lay on her stomach in the middle of the floor, while Connie sat cross-legged opposite her. Grandpa found a deck of cards and they played a few rounds of Sevens in ponderous silence. From the kitchen Connie could hear the low murmuring of her mother and grandmother talking, but the words were too faint to catch.

  ‘I hope they’re getting things sorted,’ Marcus said, to no one in particular.

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ Grandpa said, his voice firm and reassuring. He leaned forward so he could lay the jack of clubs on the nearest pile. ‘You know what your mother’s like. She can sort out anything.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Marcus looked doubtful. ‘Anna’s been pretty difficult lately. And she’s been so negative about this whole situation; it’s like she thinks someone’s trying to steal her children away…’ He trailed off, looking around the room, as if he’d just noticed that both his daughters were within earshot. ‘I just don’t want you or Mum to think we’re ungrateful,’ he said finally.

  Lily, focused on laying down a card, didn’t give any indication that she’d heard. Connie studied her own cards, so she wouldn’t say what she was thinking: that maybe they didn’t need to be stolen. Maybe their mother had given her children away.

  ‘We know it’s a difficult situation,’ Grandpa said, his voice light. ‘You just focus on worrying about yourselves. Your mother and I are old enough to let you know if something’s upsetting us.’

  Marcus nodded, and the conversation moved on. After a while Connie put down her cards, mumbling something about needing the toilet, and slipped into the dining room, pushing the door closed behind her.

  The room was empty, and strangely dim with the door closed: the sky was steadily darkening outside, as the rain grew heavier and the day crept towards the night. The dishes from lunch were still scattered across the table, casting strange shadows, and the door to the kitchen was open a crack, a shaft of light throwing itself carelessly across the carpet. Connie could hear the low voices of her mother and her grandmother from the other side of the door.

  ‘I know it sounds petulant,’ Anna was saying, ‘but I feel as if Marcus is punishing me because I wasn’t there to help them. It’s as if he’s gone, Well, you weren’t around to help then, so I’m not going to let you help now. What other reason can there be for him sending Lily away, other than that he thinks I’m incompetent?’

  ‘Anna, you need to talk to him about this. He doesn’t think you’re incompetent. He thinks you’re stressed and he’s trying to avoid putting any more pressure on you.’

  ‘By taking my daughter away? How is that relieving the pressure?’

  ‘She’s hard work, Anna. You know that – you can see what it’s like. Looking after someone who won’t communicate is a full-time job, and it can be pretty hurtful, knowing that despite your best efforts they still don’t want to talk to you. Especially if it’s your own child. I think Marcus just wants to protect you.’

  Connie waited for the response, barely breathing in her attempt to not make any noise.

  ‘Well, he hasn’t protected me,’ Anna said, her voice blunt and full of hurt. ‘He’s just made things worse. He’s probably ruined my relationship with my daughters, and he’s made me lose all respect for him. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive him for that.’

  The door swung open so suddenly that Connie didn’t have time to move; light filled the room, and Anna appeared in the doorway, her features contorted almost unrecognisably. Connie froze, terrified that she’d be seen, but she needn’t have worried – Anna made straight for the stairs, and never once looked in her direction.

  now

  ‘I invited Lily and Richard round for dinner tomorrow.’

  Connie was stretched out on the sofa, her feet resting in Nathan’s lap. He was painting her toenails, his eyes inches away from her left foot, concentration blurring his features. Blood red. Blood Dread. She preferred more quirky shades – blue, green – but Nathan could rarely be diverted from the red.

  ‘Did you speak to Lily? Or Richard?’

  ‘Lily.’ She paused, stretched. ‘At Richard’s suggestion. He thinks I should talk to her.’

  ‘He’s right.’ Nathan and Richard talked on the phone on a semi-regular basis. Their primary topic of conversation was the insanity of their partners, which they spoke of with admirable fondness.

  ‘Are you done yet?’

  ‘Nearly. Stop wriggling. Did Lily definitely say they would come? I don’t want you to go to all that effort and have them not show up again.’

  ‘It’s not any effort; I’m only going to cook what I usually would for you and the boys. But yes, she said she would definitely come.’

  ‘Want me to ring Richard and mention it tomorrow morning?’

  A beat, and then, ‘Yes, okay, then.’

  The stereo murmured in the corner, classical music that Connie couldn’t place. She preferred the stuff that was on the radio: loud, upbeat, popular. The only CDs she owned were the ones Nathan had bought her when they’d first got together, when he’d still presumed she could develop an interest in music just because he had one. She didn’t know band names, or genres. But she knew the lyrics to half the songs on Radio One. The ones that didn’t sound like dance music being played on a car stereo two streets away.

  ‘Do you think Richard’s spoken to Lily about the house?’

  ‘No.’ Connie followed her husband’s delicate brushstrokes with her eyes. ‘I think he’s waiting for me to do it.’

  ‘Well, that’s fair enough, I suppose.’

  ‘Is it, though? I don’t see why I got landed with all this responsibility.’

  Nathan finished, screwed the lid back on the nail varnish, and gently negotiated his way past her feet until he was sitting close enough to kiss her. ‘It’s because you’re responsible.’

  ‘I’m not really, though.’

  ‘More responsible than Lily, then.’

  ‘That doesn’t take much.’

  ‘Connie – ’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ She shifted position until her head was resting on Nathan’s shoulder. ‘I do love you, you know.’

  ‘I know. I love you, too.’<
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  Connie smiled, closed her eyes. Together, they sat in silence, and the music gently filled the space between them.

  ‘So the job’s going well?’

  ‘Yeah, not so bad.’ Richard speared a piece of chicken with his fork and pushed it back and forth through the sauce of Connie’s home-made cauliflower cheese. ‘I think it’ll take me a while to get to the point I’m aiming for.’

  ‘And what exactly are you aiming for?’

  Connie and Nathan sat on one side of the table, alternating questions, as if they were an interview panel. Lily sat next to Richard, her eyes on her plate. It was impossible to tell whether she was following the conversation.

  ‘Well, obviously editor-in-chief would be nice, some day.’ They laughed as Richard chewed. ‘I don’t know. For now I’d just like to get put on some more interesting stories.’

  ‘What was the last story you did?’

  ‘You read it, silly.’ Connie nudged Nathan with her elbow. ‘I showed it to you.’

  ‘The one about the Hallowe’en celebrations?’

  ‘Hmm. Investigative journalism at its greatest.’ Richard took a sip of his wine with his left hand, slipping his right one under the table to find Lily’s. One long squeeze. Okay? Short squeeze in response. Yes. He let the tip of his thumb run the length of hers, then returned his hand to the table. ‘What about you, Nate? Any interesting patients lately?’

  ‘Actually, I did have one guy the other day…’

  As Nathan recounted the story of a patient who had eaten nothing but doughnuts for a month in an attempt to gain weight, Richard let himself tune out somewhat, turning half of his attention to Lily. She had been eating the food earlier, but now she was pushing it around her plate. She stared downwards with the expression of someone who was seeing straight through the table to the plushly carpeted floor beneath.