A shiver runs over me, making my body shudder uncontrollably.
‘Something walk over your grave?’ my mother says icily, appearing from nowhere.
I look out at Gabe, as he busies himself at the bottom of the hill with tools and wood.
‘Something like that.’
45
IT WOULD’VE BEEN MORE appropriate for him to move into the barn, the amount of time he spends in there. But I’m not going to think about that. I’m not going to think about any of it today.
I’ll think about Evan instead. His eyes, his neck, his …
‘For Christ’s sake, will you stop picking at your fingernails Sephone?’ There it is again, her voice buzzing around me. No space. No escape.
I feel like scratching at my skin so hard – maybe then I could get out. Like a spider or a snake – tear it off, all of it, crawl out.
What would be underneath?
The metallic taste of blood hits the back of my nose and throat. I look at my raw fingers, the nails chewed down low, the skin surrounding them cracked and red. I pick at the dry white skin of my thumb with my index finger until it comes loose, and then chew on it until it peels off into my mouth.
She’s still there.
Pecking away at my head. Picking away at my nerves. I’m guessing it’s to get back at me for the other night; she’s had a face like thunder ever since. I don’t know what her problem is – it’s not like I roll in pissed and throwing up all the time. Gimme a break, will you?
‘Maybe you can make yourself useful and take this sandwich and cuppa out to Gabe.’
‘Why don’t you just leave me alone and tell him to come and get it? I’m not his servant. Or take it out yourself!’
You go in there. Take a good look around Mum, and see what your precious, broken little brother is.
‘Are you kidding me – I’m the one in the wrong here?’ She’s shouting. Louder than she usually would do.
And then, there he is.
Creeping through the back door. Head bowed like a kicked puppy. I feel like I could tear his throat out. His disgusting, vile, murderous throat. Just like he probably tore out hers, or crushed it with those huge hands, or whatever he did. Whatever he did…
I’m up the stairs quicker than I knew possible. The burning in my stomach rises up to my throat, and I can feel the molten about to erupt over the pair of them. Spewing out the words. Emptying myself of this poison.
I can hear my mother apologising on my behalf, ‘I’m so sorry love – I don’t know what’s come over her. I’m just gonna leave her for a bit. Maybe she’ll calm down.’
‘Probably best.’ His voice is low, guttural.
How dare he?
Probably best for him he means. It becomes more muffled, his voice becoming nothing but a blur. But it doesn’t go away. It’s always there in the background.
My room is dark, even though it is only lunchtime. I flick the switch of my lamp and lay down on the bed, but there’s too much stuff moving about in me, and so my body forces me to get back up. I go over to the desk and sit there looking out at the sky, that low blanket of dullness, pressing down on me.
The silver letters at my neck feel warm. I trace over them, beginning with the delicate ‘S’ and pull them between my fingers and thumb, over and over until the thoughts start to pull back, and I can let that white-grey sky swallow me. And I want it to. I want it to eat me up, so that this nightmare can finally come to an end.
When he walks across the yard out to the barn – again – I can feel it starting to rise in my stomach, the black knot that has now become hot and red. I want him to look up, for him to see me watching him. I want him to feel that I am there, breathing down his neck. The feeling takes over, pulling me down into a new darkness. I want him to be scared. I want to be in control.
It comes back to me again, creeping in on all-fours and crawling over to whisper into my ear. The memories of that day when he attacked me. The day I saw him for the monster that he was – that he is – and when I stored it away neatly inside a box in my head. A box that was sealed and thrown down into the deep dark where I did not have to look at it. My heart races as that thought occurs. That I could have forgotten such a thing. Is this normal? What else might be in there somewhere, unwanted and tucked away?
The barn door closes behind him, and the buzz of electrical tools travels out of the stone walls and up to my room.
What is he doing in that barn?
Now the door is open, and he’s loading something into the back of the van that is parked outside. Then he’s back in and out again, his arms heavily laden, carrying whatever it is to the back of the yard and throwing it into a pile. Then again. More stuff, the pile growing bigger.
A knock at my door and my attention is turned to her. I ignore it, but she just knocks again. ‘Go away.’
‘Please don’t be like that love.’
‘I am like that – so go away.’
I hear the latch moving and the door opens slowly. I start to boil again, from deep inside, and it surprises me how much venom I feel for her too. It’s flowing strong and fast, about to break its banks the moment that she opens her mouth again.
‘I told you to leave me alone.’ I couldn’t be any clearer.
‘I don’t like us fighting like this Seph, and I don’t like the way that you’re treating your uncle either to be honest.’
‘To be honest! You don’t know the meaning of the word!’ It’s such a relief to say those words. A beautiful release. I’m not going to stop, even though her face is a mixture of confusion and hurt.
‘You’re a liar,’ I say, and I think I’m smiling.
‘Sephone!’
‘You lied to me about what Gabriel did. I remember you know. Don’t think I don’t.’
There is a strange look on her face – stunned, immobilised, like these words have confused and wounded her at the same time.
Something in me enjoys it.
‘I thought we were done with this Seph – he didn’t do it!’
‘Not just that. I mean me Mum – that day when he went for me. Did you think that just because we never talked about it then it just goes away, like it didn’t happen?’
Tears make their way slowly down her cheeks. I don’t care. She can cry me a river.
‘Seph love I’m sorry. Is that what’s been bugging you all this time? I’m so sorry you had to see Gabe like that. He wasn’t well, and if I thought – if we thought – that something like that would’ve happened then we wouldn’t have brought you here at that time.’
‘You mean if your brother didn’t want to kill me.’
‘Stop. Now. This is getting ridiculous. Your uncle does not want to kill you. You’re worrying me again – I don’t want to say it but seeing as we’re being honest – I think you’re starting to sound a bit paranoid, and it’s worrying me Seph. I’ve been there before – with Gabe.’
‘Don’t you dare compare me and him!’
‘I’m just saying that-’
‘I know what you’re saying. Well why don’t you just go and ask him? Go out there to that bloody building that he never comes out of and see what’s in there. Because I have! There are bones in there. Probably her bones – but who knows?’
‘For God’s sake, will you listen to yourself!’
‘Go!’ I scream, and a book that is sitting on my desk finds its way into my hand before meeting her cheek.
And then, nothing.
It’s as if the world is standing still. Like we are suspended in time.
She holds her hands up in front of her, between us, to signal that she’s done, before placing her right hand against the red mark that is growing on her skin, and hurrying out of my room.
I’ve said it. It’s out there.
At the corner of my eyes my vision is blurred. Heat rises up over my chest and neck. I can’t breathe … I can’t … I claw at the jumper around my neck and reach across the desk to open the window. The smell of smoke rushes at
me. She is scuttling across the yard out to the barn. This is happening … Oh God.
She opens the door and he is there. But she doesn’t go in, just waits for him to step out and I see her leaning forward, head in hands, and I know that she must be crying. Her head is placed on his chest, and he tentatively puts an arm around her. Then he looks up to my window, and our eyes nearly meet, as the smoke from the fire swirls up between us.
46
I stand in front of the mirror and pick at the skin on my face. It comes off easily, in sheets, the red raw flesh underneath staining my hands, but I keep on going – my chest, my arms.
I tear off the parched white mass at my stomach and wriggle out of it.
Scratching.
Tearing.
Pulling.
It keeps coming off – and I keep freeing myself of it – until I can feel it all gone, then look at myself in the mirror, and I haven’t changed.
I look the same.
My name hangs around my neck.
The same me underneath, and I scream, before I start to scratch and tear again.
47
INSIDE JOHN’S CAFÉ IT is warm and smells of fried things and coffee. For once I am the only one in here, and I’m not surprised given how cold it is. No one in their right mind would want to leave home on a day like today.
Then again, it depends what and where home is.
I wrap my hands around the cup of tea that John has placed in front of me, regardless of the fact that it is burning my skin. My phone buzzes, the vibration making it move across the table like it is alive and running away from me. Beth’s text reads, Be there in 5 xx.
Something swims in my stomach, so I close my eyes and feel the sting of the heat that is biting at my fingers. I hold my hands there for as long as I can bear it, and then some more.
I have no idea what I’m going to say to her. Shame wells up in me. I press my hands against the chipped white mug again, harder this time.
Buzz. Buzz.
I look down expecting to see Beth’s name lit up on the screen, but instead it says Evan. My stomach flips, in a nice way this time, as the message underneath pops up, Missing u, back later. See u tonight? x
I wince as I reach for my phone to reply, my sore red fingers screaming at me for what I have done to them. As I hold my hands out in front of me, palms up, looking at the bright red marks on their surface, the door goes and it is Beth. She doesn’t say hello, her first words being, ‘What’s happened there?’
‘Nothing,’ I say, quickly hiding my hands under the table.
‘Looks sore.’
She flings her purse and phone on the table, and herself into the chair opposite, hastily unwrapping the huge scarf that is wrapped around her neck.
‘I’m so glad you rang,’ she says, rolling up the thick material and putting it on the chair next to her. ‘I’m literally bored shitless. I dunno what’s wrong with me.’
‘I just wanted to-’
‘Have you heard from Lowri?’
‘No,’ I say, before remembering, ‘actually yes, she messaged me a few nights ago, but it only came through when I came into town earlier. I think she’s better now.’
‘Yeah, she texted me earlier,’ she says, ‘So glad. I really want her to come tonight. You’re still coming aren’t you?’
My mind searches for it, but I’m not sure what she’s on about.
‘Lewis’s 18th – the house party?’
I must be looking at her like I’m stupid, having no idea what she is going on about.
‘I told you about it the other day at my house?’
The ball in my stomach gets a little tighter.
‘Mind you …’ she says smirking.
‘Don’t,’ I say resting my elbows on the table and my head in my hands.
‘Oh, shut up – I’m only joking – lighten up will you.’
‘I’m just so sorry Beth, and embarrassed-’
‘Look – like I said when I text you the next day – stop worrying about it. It’s not like I’ve never done anything like that before – probably my fault anyway. I gave you that red wine.’
‘But what about your parents?’
‘It’s done. They’re fine – just pissed off that I took the bottle in the first place, but we’re sorted now.’
I want to feel ok about it all, to wipe the memory – what memories I have – and the feelings clean out of my mind and body.
‘Did I say anything?’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know … strange or offensive or something?’
‘Right that’s the end of it. No, you didn’t say anything, other than bang on a bit about Evan – oh and about how much your uncle does your head in.’
My shoulders tighten, and the vision at the corners of my eyes starts to dance and blur.
‘Other than that – two teenagers got pissed – get over it will you? Now, what are you wearing tonight?’
Over the next hour or so I sip on tea that has gone cold, and am reminded of the party that had completely slipped my mind. Beth talks about anything and everything, until she looks at the time on her phone.
‘Come on, come back to mine and we’ll go through some clothes and stuff.’
I throw her a ‘Really’ look which she brushes off, Beth-style. The thought of seeing her parents is mortifying.
‘I’ve got a top that would be great on you – never worn it. It’s not really me.’
I know that there’s no use in protesting. Beth is on top, as usual. She jumps up to use the toilet before we leave, and once I’m alone I remember that I need to text Evan back. I tap away at my phone, the excitement building as I think about seeing him later at the party. A sickly-sweet twisting of my stomach sets in, and to my surprise I find myself longing for the night.
***
Mum is sat reading when I walk in an hour later, her legs tucked up to the side of her. She looks up as she senses me there, and her face tells me that she doesn’t really know what to expect. That’s how unpredictable I’ve become. I try not to think about our row – the book hitting her face. Something stings in my chest; a sharp shard of guilt.
‘I’m going out tonight,’ I declare.
‘Where?’
‘Party – one of the boys from school’s eighteenth.’
‘I don’t really think that’s a good idea – do you?’
‘Why?’
‘After the other day?’
‘Relax will you – I won’t be drinking.’ The lie slips out so easily.
‘I’m popping out later over to my cousin Rhian’s house – you remember her don’t you? I was hoping you’d come with me. Honestly love I just- ’
‘I don’t believe you! Look, you’re the one always banging on about being worried about me and spending more time with my friends, and now you’re making out that you don’t want me to go!’
The look on her face tells me that something has registered there. That I have won a small victory. She doesn’t say anything else, and I know that I have.
I am on top.
I am smiling inside. Pulling Beth’s top out of my bag I make my way upstairs, my stomach still twisting in a dark and delicious way, and all I can think about is Evan.
48
MY FINGERS SEEM TOhave a life of their own, tapping erratically on the windowsill, the excitement and anxiety coursing through me at breakneck speed. Car headlights appear on the lane, and the sound of the horn cuts through the evening air.
‘Lowri’s here – I’m off.’
Mum gets up and looks out of the window to check, as if she doesn’t believe me, before casting another look at the black top that plunges into a deep ‘V’ in the centre of my chest.
‘You look lovely,’ she says, ‘that top’s low.’
She’s trying. I can feel it, so I don’t retaliate. Pulling back my hair from my face she says, ‘Have a nice time love, but please be careful.’
‘Mum.’
‘I know, I know. Look,
go out with your friends and enjoy yourself, and maybe tomorrow we can go out, hit the last of the sales and have lunch. We need to talk.’
She doesn’t mention what I did. Or what I said. Or him.
‘A fresh start,’ she says, which to me sounds like the biggest joke in the world. It’s what she said to me six-months ago. This is our fresh start. This place.
Count to ten Seph.
‘Ok,’ I smile back at her, though all I can really think about is tonight.
As I grab my jacket from the hook, I catch sight of myself in the hallway mirror – the loose tousled hair, the stained lips, the new clothes – who is that? It feels good, in the strangest of ways.
I make my way as fast as I can down to the lane, where Lowri and her mum are waiting for me in the car. It’s almost pitch black, and once or twice I feel my ankles giving way, but there’s something about this kind of darkness that just makes me keep running.
So I do.
I use the torch on my phone to pick my way out of the black, and open the car door, as the warm blast of the heaters brushes my skin, and the smell of perfume rushes at me.
‘Hiya love.’ Lowri’s mum is barely visible beneath her quilted coat and wool hat.
‘Thanks for picking me up.’
‘No problem love.’
‘Wow – I didn't even recognise you for a second. You look amazing!’ Lowri is grinning at me, like she can read my mind. Like she knows that Evan is firmly implanted there.
‘Thanks,’ I say, as the words swim into me, somewhere towards the hot part of my belly that is twisting and throbbing and teeming with excitement.
‘You'll both be bloody freezing if you ask me,’ says her mum.
‘We didn't,’ Lowri replies, and I try not to laugh.
‘You wouldn't bloody listen anyway.’
‘Love you Mum,’ Lowri teases, in a sing-song way, reaching across and stroking her cheek.
‘Cheeky bugger.’
We pull off. Lowri and I laughing, her mother trying not to, and I look back up at the house, where my mother is standing in the window like a shadow, watching us disappear, off into the night.
The Twist in the Branch Page 14