The rest of the day flies by. Always the way when you don’t want it to. Any normal person would want to finish today, on the end of term, with a new boyfriend waiting for her outside and Christmas just around the corner. What would that be like – ? I wonder. Normal.
Most of the Sixth Form, including Beth and Alex, have sloped off. For once they haven’t harangued me into going out with them, knowing that I’d be eager to spend some time with Evan I’m guessing.
He’s waiting there for me when I get to the door. It makes me want to melt, seeing him there – confident and vulnerable all at the same time.
‘Thought you were standing me up,’ he says almost nervously when he sees me arrive.
‘I know, sorry, left some stuff in my locker and had to go back for it. Then I bumped into Mr.Williams and he was asking me how my first term had gone, and all that.’
‘And?’
Try Seph, try.
‘Yeah, fine. Everyone’s been great. Especially you lot.’ I button my coat right up high and wrap my scarf tightly around my neck, then pull on my gloves.
‘We are pretty awesome,’ he says and we laugh as we walk out of the school grounds and head into town.
‘What time do you have to be back?’ I ask.
‘About 5ish,’ he replies looking at his watch ‘it’s 3.15 now.’
I’ve already missed the school bus. ‘Shall we grab a coffee?’
‘Ok. Then I’ll walk you home.’
‘What! Are you mental – it’s bloody miles.’
‘It’s not that far. You city girls, honestly.’
‘But then you’ll have to walk back to yours too!’
‘Then we’d better get cracking! And we’ll get the coffees to take out.’
‘Ok, but I’m buying then.’ He looks awkward, but relents when he realises that I’m not backing down.
‘Fine – it’s a deal.’
I queue up in John’s caff to get our drinks, while Evan chats outside to a couple of Year Twelve boys. I watch him from inside as he laughs and jokes with his mates, until he catches me through the window, and I look away as I can feel the skin on my cheeks turning hot.
The queue takes forever to go down, everyone wanting hot drinks to warm themselves up. Once again John looks harassed. I order two coffees and two warm mince pies and eventually return to Evan who is still outside chatting and laughing.
‘Here she is. See you later then boys,’ he says warmly. They don’t exactly take the hint. He takes his drink, and smiles at me, while the boys look me up and down.
‘Yeah, catch you again,’ one of them says as they eventually decide to move on.
‘Got yourself a fan-club there,’ I joke.
‘You joining?’ he asks like he can’t resist it.
I nudge him playfully and he grins widely as he takes the lid off his paper cup and then blows at the hot liquid inside.
‘Only joking,’ he says finally. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’
‘I also bring mince pies,’ I say as I dangle the paper bag in front of him.
‘I knew I was right falling for you Sephone Griffiths.’ I hand him a pie and we walk out of town and towards the viaduct that stretches across to the village, his words still hanging delicately in my head.
The river that we pass is high and fast flowing, probably due to the thaw that has settled in. We walk along hand in hand, freezing cold, but that doesn’t matter much. The light is fading quickly. Every now and then somebody comes along, usually when we’ve stopped, embraced and moved in for a kiss. Mostly it’s people with their dogs, and we say hello as they pass, even if it is starting to grate a little. In the end we stop at the bench and sit and cuddle up together.
‘You gonna miss me then?’
I say, ‘Course. Will you miss me?’
‘Yep. But to be honest I’ve missed you a lot over the last few weeks anyway, so I’m sorta used to it. Know what I mean? And it’s not for too long?’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean. Sorry.’ Guilt again.
‘Don’t be. We’re there now.’ More guilt.
I picture him at some farmhouse in West Wales, with a huge Christmas tree, happy faces, laughter, roaring fire – the whole lot. Very different from my own Christmas scenario. I don’t want to ask, but do anyway.
‘Did you know about my uncle?’ I have to let it out.
‘Look Seph, I know a lot of things about a lot of people ’round ’ere – doesn’t make ’em true.’
‘You don’t need to stick up for him – it’s not like he’s your uncle – and anyway we’re not exactly close.’ I bristle and he obviously notices.
‘I’m not! And anyway, what’s that supposed to mean? He’s never hurt you or anything has he?’ he asks with concern.
‘No, nothing like that, we just don’t see much of him.’ I shift the focus. ‘What about all this stuff anyway with the Red Lady, the stuff that Alex was on about?’
‘Alex? Seriously? I mean he’s my mate and everything, but you don’t really listen to him about certain things,’ he says, trying to reassure me.
‘Yeah, but he said that everyone knows about it … like it’s true.’
‘No – kids know about it, we all used to when we were in junior school.’
He moves even closer.
‘But we also believed that there were devil worshippers up in the hills, and that if you said a prayer backwards in the mirror he would appear!’
He’s looking at me, trying to convince me he’s right, but also smirking a little at the memory.
‘And guess who did it in the toilets at school? Girls crying and running off, and then someone saying that they saw a cloud in the shape of the devil when we were in the yard. Total chaos!’
‘Alex?’
He nods, his smirk settling deeper into his face.
‘Look Seph, it’s just one of those little myths that people go on about to try and make things more interesting – it’s nothing.’ His tone is calm and reassuring.
‘But people did disappear,’ I say.
‘Who knows what happened hundreds of years ago, but as for Kathryn Watkins – for all we know she could be larging it up in Ibiza and sunning herself. We know what her lot are like – she might have just wanted to go and leave them all behind.’
Even if it meant getting Gabe into trouble? Doubt it.
But he doesn’t know what I know, and it takes everything I have not to burst into tears, throw all of that information at him, and let someone in on all of this at last.
Yet, for some reason, I don’t.
So once again, just like with Mum, I pretend. Pretend that everything he’s just said makes complete and utter sense to me, and stand so that we can get home before it gets dark.
As I throw my bag over my shoulder something catches my eye from across the other side of the river. A dark figure, still and silent. Watching.
Him again.
28
I SAW HIM.He didn’t. Dark eyes watching.
‘You must’ve seen him – he was just there – watching us!’ I’d insisted.
‘Just another dog walker,’ he’d said. ‘Dog probably ran off or something,’ he’d said.
Everybody saying things all the time – nobody seeing things. Me, seeing things all the time – never saying anything.
What the hell is going on?
29
HER TONE IS SHARP as we step through the front door.
‘Where have you been?’ Then, as she comes down the stairs, she sees that I’ve got someone with me.
‘Oh, hello.’ Now she puts on more of a telephone-voice. ‘Sorry I didn’t realise you had company. I was just worried because you didn’t let me know you were going to be late, and it’s getting dark and …’
‘Sorry Mrs. Griffiths, we grabbed a hot drink and walked home.’
‘That’s fine love – Evan isn’t it?
‘Yeah.’
‘I just wish that Sephone would’ve rung that’s all. Some people drive like i
diots down that lane,’ she says, dialling down her tone and frustration.
‘I haven’t got a phone that actually works properly Mum – remember.’
Please shut up!
‘Well there are still payphones aren’t there?’
‘Didn’t think Seph – you could’ve used mine,’ Evan says, having not realised what a worry-freak my mother is.
‘Anyway – you’re here now. Don’t forget we’re going out later to eat.’
‘I’m not stopping – I’ve got to be back cos we’re going away,’ Evan says politely.
‘I’ll give you a lift love.’
Mortified. That car!
‘No mum it’s fine,’ I interject.
‘Honestly – it’s fine – takes me no time. Happy birthday by the way.’
‘Thanks, well if you’re sure – but get Seph to make you a cuppa before you go.’
‘Honestly, I’m fine, gonna make tracks,’ he says picking up on my embarrassment.
Once she’s satisfied that he means it, she runs back up the stairs to carry on with whatever she was doing before deciding to come down and harass me. The house is dark, with a small lamp on, and the fire burning. I’m glad, because at least this way Evan doesn’t get to see what it really looks like. Birthday cards are arranged along the mantelpiece along with the vase of flowers. It almost looks normal. Not homely, but not a complete dive. Still, I don’t invite him in further.
‘I’ll be seeing you then,’ he says with a flat smile.
He’s going … I don’t want him to.
Much hugging. Some kissing. Hand-holding that must eventually stop.
‘Before I go – this is for you – Merry Christmas,’ he says, taking a small box from his coat pocket. It’s wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a satin bow, also red.
‘I didn’t get you anything.’ I’m shocked and also embarrassed.
‘Put it under the tree, and no peeking.’
He hands it to me and I take it, holding it like it is fragile, precious, and I embrace him, feeling like I never want to let go.
‘Careful walking home,’ I say, choking back some tears, ‘some people drive like idiots down that lane!’ and he laughs.
‘Promise,’ he says, planting one last slow kiss on my lips, and with that he turns slowly and heads off down the driveway, past that hideous tree and out onto the road towards the village. Gone.
***
We’re sat in the pub, pretending like everything is fine, trying to be normal.
‘You look a lot better than you did a few days ago,’ she says, eyeing me up with concern and some relief.
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘I know it’s been so hard love, but I just wanted to say I’m so proud of you. How you’ve settled in, the way you’re doing at school.’
How I’ve settled in?
‘You need good friends around you and I know you miss the others.’
She’s right, on both counts.
‘Why don’t you go and catch up with them over Christmas now? Sure they’d love to see you.’
My stomach turns even thinking about seeing them. It’s just too hard.
‘And now Evan,’ she says, smirking with raised eyebrows. ‘Anyway, I wanted to tell you – but I don’t want you to worry because it’s fine – but I didn’t get the job.’
My heart sinks for her. ‘Oh.’ I don’t know what else to say.
‘I’m not massively disappointed, there’s bound to be more experienced people out there. Something’ll turn up.’
Once we’ve finished our meal, and I’ve answered as many questions as I can take about Evan, my mother pays the bill, chatting away with the landlord at the bar for a while. I’ve tried my best not to put a downer on the evening. Tried my best to not think about Gabe and the barn, and the fact that Evan is now miles from here. But his absence pulls me back to those things that I’ve been so desperate to forget, reminding me of the confusing dark jumble of fears and events.
I’m pulled back to the river this afternoon, to the figure that was standing there watching, and I actually find myself considering whether it could be my uncle. The dark eyes and dark hair – just like his.
‘Sephone!’ my mother almost shouts.
‘What? Why are you shouting?’
‘Because you’re a million miles away! Come on, I’ve paid the bill.’ She’s up and ready to go. ‘Don’t worry,’ she says, pulling her arm around my shoulder, ‘he’ll be back soon enough.’
Yes. He will.
30
LIGHT FLICKERS BEHIND MY closed lids.
White. Bright. On and off. On and off.
Off.
Propping myself up on my elbow, I reach over to the lamp switch next to the bed.
No need.
The light snaps on.
The flickering stops – and she is there.
Her face is pressed up tight against mine. She is on her hands and knees at the side of my bed. I see her.
She is red.
It is pulled through her hair. It is caked on her nightdress. It is smeared across her pale skin. Her eyes are large, as if they have been pinned open.
She is a red lady.
She is in my bedroom, and I am awake.
The fear is too intense.
Frozen.
Nothing can escape from my mouth. My muscles will not work. I can’t sit back, stand or run. I can’t scream for my mum.
It is just me and her, staring wild-eyed at each other, and if I wasn’t so scared, I might just think that I had finally – after all these weeks – finally made the transition, to that place that for so long has been clawing at my skull.
31
‘SEPHONE! SEPHONE!’
My mother bursts through the bathroom door, where I am lying in a bath of liquid that feels warm and viscous.
She screams my name again – louder this time – which rouses me further, and I try to take in my surroundings. The bathroom. The water. What-?
Red. Blood-red.
She’s all over me. Checking my wrists, my arms. Pulling at me. Shaking me. Hugging me close to her.
‘What did you do?’ she screams.
‘Nothing …’
‘Stand up and get out,’ she orders, grabbing a towel to cover me up.
I manage to stand and step out of the bath, but I feel weak and tired, and her shouting is adding to my confusion.
The red liquid trickles over my body in tiny rivulets, over my chest and abdomen, down my legs, collecting around the bones of my ankles and between my toes.
She scrubs furiously at my body, trying to find the source of the blood and I’m too confused to be embarrassed by my nakedness. Over and over she concentrates on my wrists. Rubbing. Pressing. This one, then the next one. Then again.
I’m shivering, and so she takes another towel from the hook on the back of the door, throwing it over my shoulders; it helps a little.
‘I can’t find anything Seph … did you get your period?’ she asks matter of factly.
‘No – no I didn’t …’
I’m so cold.
‘It’s half five Seph – what the hell are you doing down here in the bath?’ she says loudly, angry now.
‘I don’t know!’ I shout back, prickling with anger myself at her questions and her yelling.
‘I’m calling the doctor.’
I know there’s no use in arguing with her, and a part of me actually agrees. She dries me off a bit more, then quickly runs up to my room to get my dressing gown. Her pyjama top is soaked through and stained pink-red.
Once again I’m at a loss as to what has just happened, but I know that the blood does not belong to me, as all I can think about is her face pressed against mine. Her scared, red face.
Who is she?
32
THE CONVERSATION STARTS LIKE this. ‘Sephone, I understand that you’ve been through a lot over the last year or so.’
And so, I say this. ‘Yes … it’s been hard on both of us.’
Dr. Lewis continues. ‘Can you tell me a little bit about it?’
A locked room. Dark eyes. Bones. A woman covered in blood. My uncle.
‘There’s not much to say really.’
33
IT DOESN’T BOTHER ME that it’s freezing, and the wind is getting right into my ears, even though I’m wearing a hat. Or that I can’t feel my toes, which has always been something that I can’t stand about winter. It doesn’t bother me that my mother keeps looking out of the window – checking what I’m doing – just in case. And it doesn’t even bother me that Evan isn’t here, and that he won’t be back for what seems like months.
All that matters is that I get to look at that tree; the very one that I crossed over to avoid but that now keeps showing up in my head. The tree that looked at me from the back of that painting.
Up and down, I take in its sturdy, tangled shape, its dark colour, the sprawl of its branches, and that particular branch of course. I follow its sickening twist. Something about it makes me think of broken bones that have never healed properly. Deformed, painful, uncared for.
Each bend and turn works its way into me, and I realise that something about it has changed. Now, instead of pointing out to the forest, the branch points down to the ground. I follow it down to the cold hard earth, where traces of frost and ice hold on, even though it is late afternoon.
The trunk of the tree is large and impressive, as though it has been occupying that space for hundreds of years. An intricate sprawl of roots lay exposed at its base, the brown-black wood fading to grey, then white. Thick, pale and knotty, like arthritic knuckles, with tired old skin pulled tightly across them.
As I trace my eyes along the surface of the ground, I notice that a patch of earth looks different to the grass-covered soil that surrounds it. Stepping over to it, I brush my foot over the top, taking away the frost so that I can get a better view.
The ground is rock hard, but still I see that this patch of mud is looser than the rest and has no grass. My hands move over the earth, and then it is gone.
And once again, so am I.
The Twist in the Branch Page 11