by Julie Sykes
Dan was surprised, but if he was disappointed he hid it well. ‘Not enjoying it?’ he asked.
‘I love it. But there’s been a lot of new stuff…’ I faltered, unsure how much to confide in him.
‘You’ve had enough.’ He smiled his understanding. Pushing the tiller to the opposite side of the boat he shouted, ‘About turn, mind your head.’
We both ducked as the boom swung over and the boat turned. Dan steered a zigzag course back, expertly avoiding the other sailing boats and kayaks full of giggling students. As we reached the shallows he let the sail out and raised the centreboard, instructing me to pull up the rudder. It came easily and I shot home the pin to stop it from dropping back into the water. The boat slid gently onto the shore, its hull crunching over the stones. I jumped out to get the trolley but Dan stopped me.
‘I’m staying out,’ he called. He hopped out of the boat and jogged round to her bow.
I was a teensy bit disappointed. I’d half hoped he might ask where I was going and then offer to help. But it was probably better if I worked alone. Dan re-launched his boat and I couldn’t help but admire his suntanned legs and straining calf muscles. He boarded, jumping neatly like a cat, and deftly reinserted the centreboard and rudder. The boat kicked, and he took control by reining in the sail. He waved as he pulled the tiller round and headed for the middle of the loch.
I waved back and my heart dipped with regret. I would have stayed out longer if it wasn’t for the adrenalin coursing through me. I knew I’d find it impossible to settle until I’d found out more about Erin McKeever. Mia must have her details. I’d ask if she could ring her. Then, if no one answered the phone, I would track down her relatives, using the internet. What if I was Erin? An unwelcome thought crash-landed in my head. My legs felt like they were walking in stone boots and I slowed down. I covered my ears with my hands in an effort to blot out the thought. My mother. I was desperate for her to be alive. I wanted it so badly that it made me feel sick.
On I ploughed, past the boys’ cabins that were just visible through the trees. Shortly afterwards I left the meandering path to forge my own, quicker, way through the forest. There was nothing subtle about my approach. I must have sounded like a herd of elefanta, but at least it kept the mosquitoes away. When I arrived at the back of Melody House I circumnavigated the gardens, bordered with bushes and thick shrubs, and came out in the car park. With my goal in sight I upped the pace as I crossed over to the house.
The front door opened and Mia stepped outside, accompanied by a tiny girl with a bright mass of ginger curls. She saw me and waved for me to join her. I sighed as I went over. I’d been hoping to get her alone. On closer inspection the girl was much older than her diminished height suggested. She had a bunch of freckles that she’d tried to hide with make-up. Her eyes were highlighted with kohl and she wore shiny red lip gloss. She looked bored, as if she didn’t really want to be here. I sincerely hoped that Mia didn’t want me to show her around.
‘This is Erin,’ said Mia. ‘Her mum got the dates muddled, so she’s a little late arriving. Erin, this is Amber.’
‘Hi,’ I said. You’d never have guessed at the turmoil raging inside me. I was devastated, but at the same time weirdly relieved. All the while I didn’t know the truth I could cling to the hope that my mother hadn’t been with me in the car accident.
Mia touched my arm. In a low voice she asked, ‘Were you looking for me, Amber? I’m giving Erin the welcome tour but I could spare you a few minutes if it’s urgent?’
‘No, it’s fine. It was nothing important. I’ll catch you later.’
‘Well, if you’re sure?’ Mia hesitated.
‘I’m sure, thanks.’ I smiled brightly, then walked off in the opposite direction. I didn’t feel like going back to my room. I’d spent enough time staring at walls, so I veered off the path and into the woods that ran parallel to the drive. The mixed trees were interspersed with feathery bracken and bushes adorned with brightly coloured flowers. It was beautiful, but I was barely aware of anything except for the thud of my heart as it kept time with my feet. Eventually I found my way blocked by a dense row of bushes with long, prickly leaves. I squeezed through them undeterred, my hair occasionally snagging on a branch, until I found myself in a clearing. The ground was covered with clumps of a tough-looking plant covered with small purple flowers. I sat down and sank my head on my arms. The tears came fast, hot and salty, spurting from my eyes like water from a burst pipe. I cried for ages, until I felt completely empty; then I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. With the back of my hands I wiped my face. I combed the broken twigs from my hair and pushed it back over my shoulders. Then I stood up and brushed the dirt from my clothes. Last of all, I rearranged my face. I couldn’t quite manage cheerful, but as expressions go it, was a passable attempt at I’m fine.
Seven
While no two days at Waterside were identical, they soon took on a familiar pattern. My alarm woke me at seven. I’d get up straight away and nip across the corridor for a wash. Then I’d get dressed. I always performed a ten-minute stretching routine before I hitched up with Lucy, to walk over to Melody House for breakfast. The routine was something I’d put together from a book that I’d found in our common room, downstairs in Chopin. The need to exercise regularly, to keep fit and supple, was so deep-seated that I suspected it was something I’d done in my previous life. None of the exercises in the book, New York City Ballet Workout, were familiar. I seemed to have a near photographic memory, though, and learned them with ease.
Dan had breakfast with his parents but he often joined our group for lunch and dinner. The group consisted of Lucy, Claudia, Amy, Ellie, George and Josh. Tiny Erin, with her springy ginger curls, sometimes sat with us but mostly she preferred her own company. Claudia said she was sulking because she didn’t want to be here. Her parents had forced her to come to Waterside instead of going on holiday to Tenerife with her two best friends.
It was more fun with Dan around and my mood always lifted when he arrived. Dan was friendly with everyone, but we seemed to get on especially well together. I felt like I’d always known him. I was relaxed and laughed more often when I was in his company.
After breakfast I always had a private flute lesson, followed by orchestra, and then small group ensemble. The latter changed daily as the music tutors mixed students with different instruments to see how well they played together. I loved all the sessions but I enjoyed my flute lesson best. Mr Mason was teaching me how to read sheet music, even though my memory was so good that if I heard a tune once I could play it right through.
‘It’s no good relying on hearing an unfamiliar piece before you can play it. A real musician must learn to decode the music from the page,’ he told me.
It struck me that it would be quite helpful if there were a written guide to life. I could do with a book to help me decode some of the everyday mysteries I was up against. It still bugged me that Dan killed mosquitoes, especially when insect repellents were available. It was the needless killing of them that upset me the most. Their bite hurt, but it wasn’t that bad. I would have understood if Dan had been going to eat the insects after he’d killed them, but when I mentioned that he’d roared with laughter. I’m sure he thought I was joking. To stop me dwelling on things that didn’t make sense I threw myself into the challenge of learning to read music. It wasn’t difficult because I really enjoyed it, and the extra work quickly paid off. Before long I could read the music for lots of tunes.
There was a downside, however, to immersing myself in so much musical activity. It left me buzzing, literally. Sometimes I’d be so wired that the mind control became a natural reflex – like breathing. I had to watch myself then, because according to the internet, moving objects by mind control, or telekinesis as it was called, wasn’t normal. In fact, most scientists believed its existence hadn’t been convincingly demonstrated. So what did that tell me? Nothin
g, really! I still didn’t know if I’d always been different, or if my extrasensory skills were a result of the accident. I longed to talk about it to someone, but I wasn’t sure whom I could trust. Dan came high on my list of possible confidants, but something held me back. If, as I strongly suspected, my telekinetic skills were peculiar to me alone, then it was a massive secret to burden anyone with. What if I told Dan and the knowledge was too much for him to keep to himself? He might tell Mia and Jeff. A secret shared is a secret spread. The Marshalls were lovely people, and incredibly generous, but how would they feel about me if they knew what I could do? It might frighten them, like it had the auxiliary at the hospital, and they may tell someone official, like Nicky. I didn’t want to end up back in hospital, being subjected to endless tests. What if I was considered a danger? A public enemy! Would I be treated like a mosquito – and eliminated?
In the afternoons everyone played sport. I was okay at most things so I usually got picked for a team. I handled a kayak with deadly efficiency, but sailing was my real passion. It was Dan’s too. He frequently took me out in his boat and I looked forward to sailing with him. We were relaxed in each other’s company. Dan didn’t talk incessantly, like Lucy. Don’t get me wrong, she was bubbly and great fun to be with, but I craved the space Dan afforded me. Often we’d sail in silence, communicating merely with looks. Sometimes, albeit briefly, I forgot that I hadn’t a clue who the real me was. I liked being Amber.
The first week flew past. It was Saturday again, the only day of the week when there weren’t any music lessons. Dan and Josh, a tall gangly violinist with jet black hair and an infectious smile, planned to drive into Kirkgreen and they invited Lucy and me to join them.
‘To do what?’ I asked.
Lucy stared at me like I was from another world, ‘To window shop, hang out together and generally have fun.’
I could think of millions of things more fun than window shopping, and there were plenty of gorgeous places to hang out here at Waterside. My own personal favourite was on the shores of the north side of the loch. Lucy, however, wanted to go to Kirkgreen and she persuaded me to go along too. Melody House had a double garage and we arranged to meet the boys there. Dan was getting the car out as we arrived, a small blue thing with four doors. Josh took the passenger seat, so Lucy and I got in the back.
‘This car yours then?’ asked Josh, as Dan pulled away. ‘Bet the insurance was expensive.’
‘It cost almost as much as the car,’ Dan agreed.
Josh whistled. ‘Man! I thought as much! My parents are giving me driving lessons for my birthday in December. Buying a car and running it is down to me, though.’
‘I’m getting driving lessons for my birthday too,’ said Lucy. ‘I’ll be seventeen in January. What about you, Amber?’
There was an awkward silence, then Lucy smacked her hand to her head. ‘Sorry! Stupid question.’
‘No problem,’ I said lightly. ‘The doctor wasn’t sure about my age. I might be able to drive already. Want to let me have a go, Dan?’
‘Tempting as that offer sounds, no.’ Dan caught my eye in the rear-view mirror and smiled at me.
When we arrived in Kirkgreen I felt exactly the same way about it as before. The streets were depressingly narrow. The tall, grey stone buildings added to the feeling that there was too much crammed into one area. It made me slightly claustrophobic. Dan navigated his way through the town and parked alongside the river. I was pleased. I felt I could breathe properly here. Josh wanted new strings for his violin and Dan had to go to the post office to send a parcel for his mum. Lucy was keen to look at clothes. We agreed to split and meet up later for coffee at the Burnside Café. I thought I’d spend my free time walking along the riverbank, but Lucy wouldn’t hear of it. She linked her arm through mine and practically towed me along to the high street, to look at clothes with her. She spent an eternity going in to similar-looking shops and trying things on. To say I didn’t get it was an understatement.
‘Isn’t this fun? Why don’t you try something on, Amber?’
‘I don’t need anything.’
Lucy rounded on me, her eyes wide with surprise. ‘A girl always needs something. But even if you think you don’t, that’s not the point. Trying stuff on is fun.’
I liked Lucy a lot and she was clearly popular with the students at summer school. If she thought that spending a morning trying on outfits was a normal and fun thing to do, then it was good enough for me. The next shop we went into I took a handful of clothes into the changing room next to hers. We had a giggle. When I squeezed into a pair of black drainpipe jeans Lucy could hardly stand for laughing.
‘Amber the Goth,’ she choked out.
I filed the word in my memory so that I could look it up on the internet later. But, if I’m being honest, I still couldn’t see the appeal of window shopping. I was relieved when it was time to meet the boys.
The Burnside Café looked old and uninviting but it was surprisingly welcoming once you were through the door. Its high ceilings and fresh yellow paintwork created a light airy feel. There was a variety of tables, in different shapes and sizes, with an assortment of chairs to match. Dan led us towards a low, round wooden table surrounded by squashy armchairs. My fingers informed me that the chairs were made of a synthetic fabric. This was something else I’d noticed about myself. I was brilliant at identifying materials by sight or touch. I was very careful to keep this to myself ever since Erin had called me anal when I mentioned in a conversation that her flute was made of a nickel alloy.
‘What do you want to drink?’ asked Dan, indicating that Josh, Lucy and I should sit down. Lucy sank into an armchair, giggling as she pitched back further than she’d expected. I remained standing. ‘I’ll get the drinks.’
‘It’s my treat.’
‘You drove. The least I can do is to get some drinks,’ I insisted. It was only my second time in a café that I could remember. I wanted as many new experiences as possible in the hope that something might kick-start my memory.
Dan looked obstinate and I hoped he wasn’t going to argue. Surely he could see how much this meant to me? I faced him out until reluctantly he said, ‘Thanks. In that case I’ll have a cola.’
‘Me, too,’ said Josh.
‘Latte for me,’ said Lucy, sitting up. ‘Do you want a hand?
‘I can manage.’ I queued up at the counter. When it was my turn I recalled the drinks order and added a cappuccino for myself. The Waterside chef made a mean cappuccino and I’d taken to drinking them at morning break. The barista slapped a tray on the counter and two saucers. While the coffees were dispensed from an industrial sized coffee machine, she poured two glasses of cola and stuck straws in them.
‘Chocolate on the cappuccino?’ The barista turned, chocolate shaker in hand.
‘Please.’ I lifted the tray from the counter when she’d finished. The barista shot me a suspicious glare.
‘That’s £8.40’
‘£8.40?’
‘That’s right.’
My cheeks burned as I suddenly realised I didn’t have any money. I’d forgotten to bring my purse with me. I glanced over to our group but they weren’t paying me any attention. Lucy was telling a story with much hand waving. Dan and Josh were totally enthralled. The lady behind me checked her watch and muttered something about being in a hurry.
‘I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten my money. I’ll be right back.’
‘Leave the drinks here.’ The barista’s tone was far from friendly.
My hands trembled as I set the tray back on the counter. It felt like the substantial queue of people waiting for drinks were all staring at me as I walked over to our table. Dan saw me approach and he jumped up out of his seat. ‘Amber, what’s up?’
I bit my lip, wishing he would lower his voice. He was so loud and it felt like everyone in the café was staring at me. ‘I don’t have any
money. It’s back at Waterside.’
‘You poor thing! How embarrassing.’ Lucy immediately reached for her bag and rummaged in it for her purse.
Josh went for his wallet, but Dan was already halfway to the counter and called back, ‘I’m on it.’
A part of me wanted to find a dark corner where I could curl up into a ball. A stronger streak of pride made me follow Dan to the counter, where I deliberately made eye contact with the barista. She returned my gaze with barely concealed amusement and took the note Dan handed her. She passed back a handful of change and Dan tipped it on to the tray with the drinks.
‘Thanks, I’ll pay you back when we get home.’ Mia had given me an allowance after our shopping trip together. Money was something that meant little to me. I couldn’t get to grips with it and still had no sense of its value. Maybe I was used to getting things on account. Or maybe I stole them! It didn’t help that there was nowhere to spend money at Waterside, as the summer school was all-inclusive.
‘No problem.’ Dan’s voice, with its gentle Scottish burr, brought unexpected tears to my eyes. I blinked them back. ‘Sorry about that, I didn’t think.’
‘Amber, stop apologising.’
‘I feel so bad.’ I felt especially guilty that I’d been irritated by Dan’s loudness.
‘It’s fine, really. You can make it up to me another time, if you insist.’
‘I do.’
‘Right, I’ll keep you to that,’ Dan winked, and my heart skipped.
I sipped my coffee slowly. The conversation flowed over me as I contemplated what had happened. Maybe staying at a summer school wasn’t a good idea. It was a pretty unique experience. It might explain why, over a week on from my accident, I couldn’t remember anything about my old life. It felt like my memory was playing a game with me. Games were good. I was getting a reputation for my competitiveness, especially at basketball. But the thing I liked most about games was they had rules. Unlike the game my memory was playing, which had come without them.