‘. . . all we’d need is a name.’
Tam wanted to rush over there, to rip Becca’s eyes out, to kick her to the ground and stop her talking. But she knew she couldn’t – that would give her away for sure. ‘What do I do?’ she pleaded with Abigail.
‘I-I don’t know.’
The reporter opened a wallet and offered money to Becca.
‘God, she’s gonna say my name.’
Becca stared at the notes in front of her.
‘If you can give me a name,’ the reporter grinned, ‘I’d be very grateful.’
Becca’s hand moved towards the money.
She was going to take it. Tam would have to make her move.
Becca and the reporter stood there, two statues in the heart of the wood. Then Becca lowered her arm.
‘I don’t know her,’ Becca said at last.
The reporter shook her head and took out more money. ‘Are you sure?’
Becca knocked the money away. ‘I said I don’t know her, all right?’ She turned and ran back along the path, right past Tam and Abigail’s hiding place.
‘Bloody kids,’ the reporter seethed. ‘Pack it up, Chris, we’re going. Stupid story anyway. It’s about time we got the meaty stories instead of this provincial shit.’
Tam and Abigail waited while the reporter and the cameraman cleared their gear away and walked out of the wood.
Finally, Tam began to breathe again. She stood, taking a moment to look about her. She closed her eyes, letting the wood calm her, then she walked towards the path.
‘Where are you going now?’ Abigail asked.
‘To find Becca. I’ve got to speak to her.’
THIRTY-SIX
Becca hated feeling like this: so many emotions she couldn’t deal with. She could handle the regret, the disappointment, the fear and insecurity. But the anger wouldn’t go away, it just festered and grew. She was angry with the reporter, angry at Tam for ignoring her, angry at Long Bone for taking her friend away from her. But most of all she was angry with herself, and she didn’t know how to cope with it. She hit her hand off her head, banging out a rage-filled rhythm.
‘Stupid cow, stupid cow, stupid cow,’ she muttered to herself. She paced, looking for something to kick or punch. She had the urge to break things. Then the tears came. Stupid, weak tears. All this emotion. Too much. She retreated to the side of a garage, resting in its graffiti shadow.
Becca’s thoughts were all out of joint, clouded with raw, unprocessed emotion. She leaned against the wall and watched the wood. Rachel and Chris emerged from the trees and got into their van. She studied them, fighting the impulse to run over and tell them what she knew, to beg them to put her on TV. But no. She wasn’t going to beg. Their loss.
She would go home and call Ellie, see if she wanted to go out somewhere. Ellie was OK – not as much fun as Tam, but she’d go along with whatever Becca wanted to do. Maybe they could get some cider from the shop on Phoenix Way, they never asked for ID there. Or—
Her thoughts broke apart.
Two more people were coming out of the wood.
It was Tam.
And Long Bone.
Bloody Long Bone.
The rage and anger boiled up inside her, demanding a way out. Becca sprinted towards the two girls, teeth clenched, hands tensed.
THIRTY-SEVEN
As they left the wood, the hard light dazzled Abigail’s eyes. For once she was glad to leave, the atmosphere was too tense there today. Tam walked beside her in silence, deep in her own thoughts, fear written across her face.
‘Do you want to come to my place?’ Abigail asked, adding, ‘Well, my aunt’s place, but there’s no one in. We can just hang out and talk.’
‘I . . . I don’t know what—’
Tam’s words broke off as a blurred shape charged into Abigail, knocking her to the ground. There was no time to ask questions, no time to comprehend what was happening. All Abigail knew was the weight of a person on top of her and the pain of fists hitting her face.
Abigail did her best to defend herself, raising her arms up to block the repeated blows, but she wasn’t a fighter and she didn’t know how to stop the attack. She’d been hit before, but it had only ever been one blow followed quickly by regret and apologies. This was different. This hurt like hell. The blurred shape screamed at her between blows, spitting obscenities into her bruised face.
‘All your fault, Long Bone! Break your stupid nose!’
Then the weight lifted from her chest as her attacker fell to the side. Abigail tried to focus on what had happened, squinting through tears and blood. She saw Tam fighting another girl, both of them punching and scratching.
Who was it?
Tam pinned the attacker down, holding her arms, and the fight paused long enough for Abigail to recognize the face.
Becca.
‘Christ, Becca,’ Tam shouted. ‘What the hell are you doing? What’s wrong with you? Pack it in!’
Becca wriggled to be free. ‘All her fault! She had it coming.’
Tam stood up, her fists clenched as she domineered Becca. ‘She’s done nothing to you, Becca.’
‘She has! We were friends before she came along. We shared everything. No secrets.’
Tam checked on Abigail, helping her up. ‘Your head’s cut.’
‘See!’ Becca screamed. ‘You help her, not me.’
‘What do you expect? You did this, Becca, you attacked her,’ Tam replied.
Becca’s face transformed as her anger gave way to hurt. ‘You never told me. You started hanging out with her and you can fly! Bloody well fly, Tam.’
The anger in Tam’s face gave way to pity. ‘You took those pictures, didn’t you?’
Becca ignored her, hardly stopping for breath. ‘You can fly and you never shared it with me, but you told Long Bone, didn’t you? You shared it with her. How could you do something like that and not tell me?’
Tam shook her head. ‘It wasn’t like that – it just happened. I didn’t mean to keep it a secret.’
‘But you did,’ Becca spat.
‘And you followed me and took those photos.’ Tam’s anger took hold once more. ‘You sold me out to a newspaper. My God, Becca, you call yourself a friend but you can do that. Why?’
‘You . . . you didn’t text, you didn’t call, you didn’t want to see me no more.’ Becca rubbed her face dry, sniffing. ‘You didn’t want me as a friend.’
‘You’re right, I don’t want a friend who can do this,’ Tam replied, shouting. ‘Friends look out for each other, even if they don’t know everything that’s going on in their lives. So what if I didn’t tell you I can fly? That doesn’t mean you should betray me.’
‘But . . .’ Becca began, but her words dried up on her open mouth. Her eyes darted back and forth as if she couldn’t get her head round it all. ‘But . . .’ she repeated, more softly this time as emotion invaded her voice. As Tam turned her back on her, Becca blurted out, ‘I hope your dad dies!’
Tam whirled round and punched Becca to the earth. She stood over her whimpering body, breathing hard. ‘Christ, grow up, Becca,’ Tam shouted. She put her arm round Abigail and walked away, leaving Becca crying alone on the ground.
‘Maybe we . . . I don’t know,’ Abigail spoke, struggling to find the right words. ‘Should we, I don’t know . . . leave her like that?’
‘Like what?’ Tam barked back, full of thunder.
‘She’s just sat there crying . . .’
‘So?’
Abigail stopped, dabbing her cut brow with her sleeve. ‘Tam, I know what she did was wrong but she’s your friend.’
‘She’s not my friend, not any more.’
‘She is. You can’t just walk away.’
‘I can and I am.’
Abigail waited. Her bruised face was beginning to ache.
Tam took five more steps, then looked back and said, ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m gonna help her,’ Abigail replied.
; ‘She hit you, Abigail. She’s not your friend.’
‘But she is yours.’ Abigail glared at Tam, neither budging.
‘Please yourself.’ Tam turned and continued to walk away.
Abigail shook her head, wondering what it was she liked about Tam. She watched her leave, hoping she would change her mind. ‘Please,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Please be the person I think you are.’
As if in response Tam stopped again, looked over her shoulder and cursed. Abigail stifled a relieved smile as Tam marched back towards her. ‘OK then,’ Tam began, ‘what are we going to do with her?’
‘Do?’ Abigail asked, surprised.
Tam’s eyes bore into her. ‘This was your idea.’
‘All right,’ Abigail said, thinking quickly. ‘We’ll go over there and help her, make sure she gets home. OK?’
Tam nodded curtly.
‘Good,’ Abigail said as she turned to find Becca.
But there was no sign of her.
Tam frowned. ‘Where the hell has she gone?’
THIRTY-EIGHT
‘I can’t see her anywhere,’ Abigail replied as she circled around.
‘She can’t have gone back to the estate,’ Tam noted. ‘We’d have seen her coming this way.’
‘So that only leaves the wood.’
Tam tried to imagine Becca in there. She shook her head. It was the last place she’d want to go. But then their conversation replayed itself in her head and a sensation of dread crawled up from her feet and possessed her entire body.
‘You don’t think . . .’ she said slowly to Abigail.
‘Think what?’
‘That she’d do anything stupid.’
Abigail stared back at her. An odd sensation came over Tam, like she was reliving these events, that she already knew the terrible conclusion to them and she was replaying her part in them. No matter what she did, she felt as if she was a train fixed on a track, its destination unavoidable.
‘We should look in the wood,’ she said grimly.
Abigail nodded without a word, turning to face the imposing wall of trees.
THIRTY-NINE
Becca stumbled into the thick cover of bushes and trees. The hatred of the estate was far behind her now. She was alone, just her and this infested wood.
Flies buzzed around her sweating face, catching on her open mouth. She spat them away, blowing her lips and swatting them with her hand.
Nettles hooked at her bare skin, burning her with their stings. Something small and loud buzzed close to her ear, flitting and scratching, making her jump away from it. She fell into the spiky plants, snapping their barbed limbs with her body. She pulled herself up, muttering curses under her hot breath.
This place. This stupid, stinking place.
She felt wounded and beaten. It wasn’t Tam’s fists that had done the damage; it was her words. The bruises were on the inside, hidden from sight, never-healing open wounds that sapped her strength. But more than that she hated herself for what she’d said to Tam. She barely had the energy to put one foot in front of another. What was the point? She’d lost the only good thing in her life. There was nothing left now, just this damned wood, the source of her pain.
Her wanderings took her off the main path, moving where the trees allowed her to go. It was as if they had created a secret trail just for her, leading her into its stinking bowels, to an ancient-looking bridge over a pathetic trickle of dark water.
Becca stood on the bridge, full of uncertainties and brooding thoughts. Dark living walls surrounded her, holding her, passing judgement. The trees whispered to each other, talking over her as if she didn’t matter. Tiny, insignificant Becca. This was how it had always been; she saw that now. Her whole life had been pointless and trivial. She wasn’t clever like Long Bone. She wasn’t pretty and funny like Tam. She was just Becca. There was nothing more to add.
The sky cracked, casting its rage through the wood, shaking the ground. Rain followed, cool and heavy, drenching her in seconds. She let it wash over her, bleeding through her clothes to her skin beneath, wishing it would wash her away completely. A clean start.
The tiny stream grew louder, rushing under her, urging her to follow it.
Becca jumped off the bridge, into the water, and walked with the flow, letting it guide her.
Why wasn’t she special, like Tam? she wondered. Why was she just Becca? Poor, lonely, lost Becca. No hope for a better future. This was all there was.
She stepped out of the water and found herself on the path through the wood. She followed it for a while until she came to the edge of the quarry. The trees ended abruptly, giving way to a cut in the land.
She looked down at the yellow-white expanse of rock below her, watching the spontaneous waterfalls cascade down the wall of stone, and she realized she could be special as well. If Tam could fly, then so could she.
It would be a short flight, a maiden voyage into the sky. But she would be free, her pain would end, and she would be special, she would be just like Tam. No more ordinary Becca.
She stepped closer to the edge and raised her hands. She thought about what she was going to do and realized there was no other way for her. She wasn’t afraid, not any more, just resigned to her destiny. She raised her face to the clouds, closed her eyes and smiled.
Her leg muscles tensed, then pushed ever so slightly – and Becca Norwood flew.
FORTY
The rain cut through Tam’s clothes like cold spikes, urging her to retreat.
‘We should go back,’ Abigail said, echoing the demand of the forbidding water. ‘Becca won’t be here.’
‘She’s here,’ Tam replied. The knot of dread had taken over her entire body now, and she chewed on her lip as she marched deeper into the wood. Please don’t be here, she begged inwardly. She wasn’t religious, never had been – she didn’t believe in anything, not really. It was all just playschool nonsense. But as she searched she realized she was praying, repeating her pleas over and over.
The wood was dark, indistinct columns of grey cowering in the downpour. A flash of lightning illuminated the space, an instant of clarity before the darkness of the storm returned. The deep rumble of thunder followed, a guttural moan that filled Tam with despair.
The sky cracked with light once more. Beside her she heard Abigail gasp. Then – almost immediately this time – the mournful thunder shook them again. Every fibre in Tam’s body urged her to retreat. But she couldn’t, she had to keep going.
‘Becca!’ Tam called out into the rain, her voice hardly carrying.
‘I can’t see anything,’ Abigail said.
Tam ignored her, searching through the trees. Ahead she saw the old bridge, the water beneath it brown and angry, gushing over its banks, dragging sticks and leaves in its wake. She rested on the feeble structure, squinting to see detail in their ominous surroundings.
Abigail stopped beside her, pushing her wet hair away from her forehead. ‘Do you see her?’ she asked, sounding breathless.
Tam shook her head. Immediately she began to walk again, searching.
‘She could be anywhere,’ Abigail moaned.
‘This was your idea,’ Tam reminded her.
Abigail sighed, then followed quickly.
Tam blinked rain from her eyes, her head dropping to face the earth, and something caught her attention. ‘Footprints?’ she asked, pointing to a smudged indent in the wet soil ahead of them.
Abigail pushed ahead, scrutinizing the ground. ‘Yes, there’s more here.’
Tam saw them now, a trail leading them on. Instinctively she took Abigail’s hand in hers, squeezing it tightly as they followed the trail.
Foreboding tears mingled with the rain running down her face. They continued in silence, their eyes focused on the footprints, their depression drowning in rainwater.
Without warning, they came to the edge of the wood. The footprints disappeared, hidden in longer grass. The treeline gave way to a short slope, then nothing.
&nbs
p; Tam and Abigail stopped, joining the trees in their silent vigil, their heavy breathing and the easing rain the only noise.
The quarry lay ahead of them, just over the edge, out of view.
Abigail broke the intense silence. ‘Do you . . . you think she’s over there?’
Tam squeezed her hand, unable to speak. She couldn’t even look at her. Her focus was on the edge – that terrible line where the earth ended and the sky began.
She took a step forwards.
‘Careful,’ Abigail warned. ‘It’s slippery.’
Tam took another step, then another, revealing more of the quarry.
Two more steps, then Tam stopped, her face fixed on the stone floor far below. Something dark caught her eyes, a cut-out shape against the creams and greys of the rocks.
Abigail saw it too and cried out.
In amongst the purple mirrored puddles was the broken body of a girl, her unblinking eyes staring up to the faraway sky.
FORTY-ONE
It was the dream again, catching her at her most vulnerable, lifting her from her sleep and throwing her down in amongst her deepest fears.
Tam lay on her side, clutching the damp quilt to her chest. Already the images were fading, but the fear remained. She wiped her cheeks dry, pushing the salt of her tears out of her eyes.
One image remained, the elusive afterglow of the other figure flying with her in the sky. Was it Becca? She couldn’t tell.
Thinking of her lost friend filled her with sadness. There was the inescapable sensation of loss, of a life thrown away, of missed opportunity. But there was anger too. She wanted to grab hold of Becca and shake her, to scream at her for being so bloody stupid. What was she thinking? Underneath that anger was guilt. This was her fault. She’d let Becca down. She’d turned her back on a friend. The guilt, she knew, would be with her the longest. The anger and regret would ebb away eventually but the guilt was made of something harder, something that would endure the erosion of time. This was Tam’s burden. No one could carry it for her.
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