The Garden of Lost Memories

by Ruby Hummingbird

  She didn’t know but she could guess.

  ‘I was changing for PE, the phone must have been on the floor under the bench. I’m, well, I always…’ he couldn’t look up, ‘I always change my pants and stuff, after sport…’

  Elsie sat back in disgust. ‘How unpleasant,’ she said, a surge of anger coursing through her. ‘And have you told a teacher? That isn’t right, Billy. That is not on!’

  ‘No,’ Billy replied, looking up, panic filling his face. ‘No, and I won’t. I don’t want to dob him in, everyone’ll hate me more and you can’t say anything.’

  He knew he should tell her he tried to hit Daniel too, that if he told someone now, Daniel might say he went to hit him and then he’d be kicked out of school. Another problem for his mum to deal with.

  ‘But…’

  ‘No,’ Billy said fiercely, ‘please, Elsie.’

  Elsie wanted to argue but she knew what it was like to want to handle something your own way. ‘I think you should tell someone, someone at the school, or your mum.’

  Billy looked at her, the same sad expression in his eyes. ‘I know,’ he admitted.

  ‘Well,’ Elsie said, wanting him to look more cheerful, ‘I’m glad you’ve told me. We can try to figure something out.’ She got up, patting him on the arm as she did so, pleased to see the grateful expression on his face.

  Another beep and they both stared at the mobile.

  ‘Don’t look at it,’ she called out, turning to fill the kettle. Perhaps she could convince him over tea and biscuits.

  ‘It’s OK, it’s a text,’ Billy replied, a tiny smile on his face for the first time.

  ‘All OK?’ Elsie asked, gently probing, wanting to march straight to that school and demand to see the head teacher, find out who this awful boy was and demand he be expelled. Imagine bullying wonderful Billy, who had enough on his plate without nasty videos being filmed. Honestly!

  ‘It’s Tilly,’ he said quickly, turning the phone around so that Elsie could see the many messages sent back and forth, a blur of letters, of tiny symbols in different colours. She understood none of it. ‘Wants me to go round there now.’

  ‘Oh,’ Elsie replied, drawn up short, thoughts of filling the kettle forgotten. Tilly was the grandchild of the woman, the woman she didn’t allow herself to think about.

  ‘It’s OK, I won’t go,’ he said in a low voice, clearly seeing Elsie’s reaction to his words.

  ‘I don’t want to stop you,’ Elsie replied, guilt rising within her. Tilly seemed to be the one person Billy had connected with in this new place, the one person who didn’t make him miserable and now he wasn’t going to his new friend because of her. ‘I’ll…’ Elsie took a breath, squared her shoulders. ‘I’ll come with you, if you like. I’d like to meet her.’ She knew she needed to be brave, to show this young boy that he should be brave too.

  Billy couldn’t stop himself from looking surprised.

  ‘The only deal is,’ Elsie added, ‘we have to ask your mum.’

  ‘She’ll be angry I left school early,’ Billy replied, his face appalled. ‘She’ll want to know why. And you’ll tell her…’

  Elsie cut him off. ‘I don’t think she’ll be angry,’ she said, placing one hand on his shoulder. ‘Not if we explain. And it’s only an hour or so, hardly bunking off.’ She tried to rouse him with a smile.

  He didn’t return it but he gave her a small nod and that was enough. They walked together down the high street, Elsie clutching the red tin to her chest, glancing into the window of the butcher. No sight of Mr Porter, who might give her some more courage. Where was he? Was he in the back or was he still ill? She chewed on her lip, distracted for a moment. He had always been so nice to her and she felt a sudden pain in her chest that something might really be wrong.

  They passed the chemist and the worry faded as she saw June in the window, deliberately averting her eyes when they met. Oh dear, at some point she must apologise to her. Maybe she’d buy her another coloured weight – or something she could take on one of her fast walks – and sort the allotment out for Billy. She had been rude to her.

  They stopped at the restaurant, Samantha looking up, eyebrows shooting into her hairline as she took in the pair of them.

  ‘Is everything alright?’ Samantha asked, rushing across, balling the tea towel she was holding in her hand.

  ‘It’s alright. Billy here just has something to ask you.’

  After she heard everything Samantha agreed he could go, suggesting that she would call school and explain, and Billy’s shoulders relaxed. Elsie’s heart beat faster at the thought that soon they would be headed to the house on the map, to the people who lived there, the place she had avoided for so long.

  Elsie didn’t notice the man approaching until he was stood right in front of them, a table of customers craning their necks as he started to speak. ‘Table three, Sam, they can’t wait all day.’ The man’s voice was sharp and clipped, his face sallow, thinning blond hair, a cheap red tie and a polyester shirt, sweat patches under the arms. ‘Sam!’

  ‘Sorry, this is my s––’

  The man took in Billy’s school uniform. ‘Son? You at the school?

  ‘He’s in Year 6,’ Samantha said, a hint of pride in her voice, her love for Billy patent every time she spoke about him.

  ‘My boy’s in Year 6,’ Rich grunted, ‘Daniel.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t know,’ Samantha replied, not seeing Billy’s face change.

  Elsie saw it though, saw his expression widen, his mouth part: Daniel. Daniel who had caused all this pain. Her expression soured as she took in this man, this father of the boy making Billy’s life hell.

  ‘You might want to check in with your boy once in a while, you know,’ Elsie said, Billy watching on in horror.

  Samantha’s brows tugged together as she turned to Elsie and then Billy. ‘What are… Billy?’

  Billy was staring at his feet.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Rich asked, swiping his silly foppish blond quiff out of his eyes.

  Elsie tilted her chin towards him. ‘I would ask Daniel,’ she replied, mouth pressed together tightly.

  Rich glared at her, clearly wanting to ask more, a customer nearby raising a hand. ‘Sam, table three,’ he ordered, waving her to them before turning back to Elsie. Samantha moved reluctantly away, a baffled expression on her face.

  ‘Come on, Billy,’ Elsie said, turning on her heel.

  Billy barely seemed able to speak as he followed meekly behind her.

  He didn’t say a great deal on the train to Goring and Elsie tried not to watch him worriedly, consumed by her own thoughts making her stomach leap and flip. He started tapping replies to Tilly on his mobile, his face unlined, shoulders relaxing the further they moved away from the village.

  As Goring chugged into view – the cheery red rooftops of the cottages in the village, the squares of gardens, ponds, ornaments in some – and the train stopped with a sigh, Elsie took a breath, hugging the red tin close to her, and stepped out onto the platform.

  ‘It’s this way,’ Billy said, leading her out of the station.

  She knew exactly which way it was: she had visited the house all those years ago and had never forgotten. It was only in that moment she started to think about exactly where she was headed and what that might mean for her.

  She licked her lips, the sun high in the sky above them, a jaunty blue at odds with her mood. Nerves crept up on her as they got closer, her palms slippery as she stood looking up at the stone pillars of the house. It seemed even bigger and grander than all those years ago, the beautiful grey stone a shade darker, the climbers clinging to the house even more lush perhaps than in her memory.

  ‘Are you coming?’ Billy asked as he started up the gravel driveway, his smile wide as he turned to her.

  Elsie nodded silently, one step crunching on the surface. Would she be there? Would she finally meet her?

  Tilly greeted them at the front door: a whirlwind of wispy long
hair, dishevelled school uniform, a high-pitched voice, bursting with energy.

  ‘Oh good! I’ve literally just got back from school and Mum was going to make me do homework…’

  She immediately dragged Billy inside the house, where another child, Rory, was quietly building something with lots of grey plastic parts on the floor of the most enormous hallway lined with mahogany panels, portraits and a large gilt mirror reflecting Elsie’s frightened expression.

  ‘That’s Rory, he’s building something to do with space because he’s a total geek—’

  The small boy looked up at Tilly’s words. ‘I’m not a geek, Mum’s told you not to call me a geek.’

  ‘I like space,’ Billy said to him and Elsie’s heart bloomed with the small kindness as Rory gave him a shy smile.

  ‘Tilly,’ a voice called from a room towards the back of the house, ‘have you made a start?’

  Elsie froze, back ramrod straight, as she listened to footsteps moving closer. The hallway didn’t feel cavernous, it felt as if the deep wood was closing in on her as the sound grew louder, and a woman appeared in a doorway to the right. She was young, too young, and Elsie released the breath she had been holding.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ the woman said, surprised by the new arrivals.

  ‘Mum, this is Billy, I told you he was coming. I can do my homework lat—’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know,’ the woman replied, a strange expression on her face as she stared at Elsie frozen to the spot. ‘Sorry, do I… have we met?’

  Elsie should have stepped forward, should have said something, but she seemed to be stuck in a strange daze. Her nose, the way it turned up slightly, the freckles spattered on her nose… It was all so peculiar. And then there was another voice and Elsie felt her whole body lurch.

  ‘Was that the door?’

  A woman, an older woman, appeared on the first-floor landing just above, staring down at their small group. Elsie watched, mesmerised, as the woman moved down the stairs, one hand on the banister. She was dressed in a three-quarter length lilac dress and low heels, her silvery-grey hair newly washed and blow-dried. She stopped halfway down, and a sound, the tiniest gasp, caught in her throat. It seemed everyone had realised something peculiar was happening. The hallway silent, all eyes watching as the woman descended the last few stairs. She couldn’t keep her eyes from Elsie’s face, standing at the bottom, her mouth a rounded ‘O’.

  Finally, Elsie found her voice, the words strangled as they emerged, ‘Hello Mary, I think you might be my sister.’

  I told you, didn’t I, that I went there? A year it took, a year of staring at that photo of the baby, the blanket soft in my hands. A year of picking up the paddle brush, turning it over, studying the beautiful china pattern on its surface. Thinking of the times over the years that Mother had brushed my hair with a different brush. Crushed all over again that she had never said a word.

  I lost weight, food tasted of ash in my mouth and I wasn’t sleeping; dark circles under my eyes, a headache every time I moved, throbbing, always there. I wondered about her, every day I imagined her waking. Where? Did she have someone in her life? Did she know who she was?

  I finally went, the pull of the map too great, those marks ingrained on my brain despite the tin being under the ground, hidden.

  What would I say? I had no idea and I tried to imagine you by my side, a hand on the small of my back, a reassuring wink as I approached the house.

  It was enormous, I could have fitted three of our houses inside. That thought shocked me first. The sweeping driveway, the manicured lawns of trimmed green. It was a stunning house, light grey stone, roses climbing the outside wall, the glass of the many windows glinting in the sunshine. I moved like a cat burglar around the side of the house, too intimidated to go inside.

  I was startled by her face in the window. Perhaps I still would have found the courage to approach but then I saw them all, on the back lawn, that swept down towards a ha-ha, a tennis court, woods beyond. A young boy, a girl, squealing and running – their chubby legs moving quickly as a man chased them on the grass, his happy face open, delighting in his children’s mirth.

  A family. She had a husband who played with the children, a healthy golden-haired boy and girl. One of each. She had everything that I had dreamt of, everything I had hoped for and everything that had shattered that day in the hospital. Everything that had been robbed from me.

  A pain like I had never known, worse than your death, worse than Mother leaving too. This was a woman who didn’t need a strange half-sister, a lonely spinster with no friends, nothing to offer. She had everything she needed, she was happy. She didn’t want someone to step in and ruin everything for her. To dredge up the past.

  I backed away, hadn’t realised I was crying until I reached the main road, my body heaving, my last hope gone. My golden sister with her perfect house and family. And I had nothing and no one.

  I vowed never to return.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  BILLY

  Woah! This was like on a TV show when the presenter reveals the person’s real family and we were watching it for real. And now I totally get why Tilly’s grandma looked so familiar. She had the same eyes as Elsie, the same almond shape, the same shade of blue. How had I not seen that before?

  Tilly’s grandma Mary stood still, poker-straight, one hand on that wooden ball at the bottom of their banister, another flying to the silver chain at her neck. Rory was still holding up something grey and plastic, staring from one old woman to another, and even Tilly had gone quiet.

  Elsie looked awkward, the tin she had carried from her home livid red in her arms. Tilly’s grandma stared at it. ‘Is that…?’

  Elsie nodded. ‘It was Mother’s, it’s got your photo in it, your blanket.’

  Mary stepped forward and I watched as she stood in front of Elsie for a moment and then, with tears filling her eyes, stepped forward and hugged her.

  ‘You came,’ she said into her hair. ‘You found me.’

  She fussed over Elsie, steering her into the kitchen and plumping cushions for her to sit on, full of questions, things she had clearly been storing up to ask.

  I wanted to stay and listen to them, remembering finding the tin, the things inside, the map and all the adventures that came out of it, but evidently Tilly had had enough of the real-life soap opera in front of us. ‘Come on,’ she said, yanking me away from the kitchen, ‘I made a den under the billiard table.’

  She stole some Jaffa Cakes before we left the room and then dragged me down a wood-panelled corridor to a part of the house I had never been into. I wasn’t sure what a billiard table was but I followed her into a room I’d not seen before: a large set of lights in green casing hung over an enormous table covered with green felt, the walls were painted a deep red, black-and-white photos of people on horses leaping over hedges lined the walls. Under the table Tilly had dragged about twenty cushions and a few throws, the middle littered with a random selection of toys and sweets: a torch, a tube of Smarties chocolates, a mobile, a magazine with a girl with pink plastic beads in her hair on the front cover, a banana.

  ‘Check out this torch,’ she said, crawling to get underneath the table. She flicked on the light and on the underside of the table an image of the earth appeared: vivid blues and greens. She flicked the next slide over the light and Saturn appeared with its coloured rings.

  ‘Cool,’ I replied, as she handed it to me and I clicked through all the images of space. There was the one of Saturn with all its rings, and one of Mars glowing bright red. You could see craters on it and everything.

  ‘Rory got bored and refused to play with me because I kept calling him Uranus,’ Tilly giggled.

  ‘You’re an idiot,’ I said, laughing. It felt good sat in all the cushions, eating the orange and pink Smarties that Tilly passed me.

  We talked and talked, about going into space. Tilly said she’d be too scared the rocket would get lost and they’d just go round and round the earth foreve
r until they died but I thought it would be quite cool and anyway, we’d all probably be living on Mars in the future. We talked about whether there would ever be a water park we could go to because the one that was really cool with loads of flumes was more than half an hour away and whether Elsie and Tilly’s grandma would tell us what all the secrets were about.

  My phone was still beeping and pinging with replies in the class WhatsApp group. Messages about the trip the following week, some stupid viral video about a cat dressed up as Batman and other pings all making me tense. Would they say mean things about the video Daniel had shared? I switched off my mobile, Tilly watching me as I pressed the button.

  ‘You’re popular,’ she said, nudging me.

  Something about her cheery smile made me feel really sad again and I panicked and could feel my chest tighten and my throat thicken from holding back tears.

  Tilly noticed, scooting onto her knees and peering at me. ‘Are you alright?’

  I told her everything. Daniel and his stupid mates, the red stuff in my bag, the endless teasing about my accent, Dad, Mum, the police, my crap clothes and finally, in a half-whisper, about the video Daniel had showed me earlier that day, his threat that he might send it round the class.

  Tilly was silent throughout, eyes serious, never leaving my face.

  At the end, once I had said everything, there was a pause and I was too embarrassed by the silence. What if she thought I was being a baby? What if she was going to stop being my friend?

  ‘That’s,’ she finally said, almost hitting her head on the bottom of the table, ‘that’s horrible. Oh my God, that is so mean!’

  It made me feel a million times better just hearing those words. ‘I’ll work it out,’ I shrugged.

  ‘Let’s get some food,’ Tilly replied, which I was learning was one of her ways of making me feel better too.

  We could hear them in the corridor outside the kitchen even above the quiet classical music that was playing. Elsie’s laugh was soft as I stepped into the room. When she looked across at me I was amazed to see her open face, no worry on it, a sort of glow as she smiled across at me.