‘Looks like one of you needs a hot bath and the other a large gin and tonic.’ The vet taps something into her phone. ‘I’ve put a couple of stitches in the gash in her thigh – it was clean, so it should heal up without much of a mark.’
‘And box rest?’ says Polly, putting a hand on Mabel’s neck. I still haven’t reached out to her. I feel too guilty.
‘Keep her in tonight, but I’d get her out in the morning – have you got an isolation paddock?’
Polly nods. ‘I can shift a couple of the ponies around and put her somewhere safe.’ She ruffles Mabel’s long mane gently. ‘We don’t want you getting in any more trouble.’
Mum holds the stable door open and then follows the vet, asking something about the bill. I realize that it’ll be enormous – call out on a weekend is huge, and Mabel’s had stitches. I feel another wave of sick dread washing over me.
‘Right, then,’ says Polly. And she smiles at me kindly. ‘Let’s get this one bedded down for the night.’
I reach a hand across, holding it out carefully. Mabel puts her muzzle gently into it and breathes a huff of warm breath through my fingers, the fine hairs of her whiskers tickling my skin. I could just collapse on the floor and cry forever, but my face is still stony and unmoving. Inside I want to scream. It’s too big to let it out, too scary. I need to put it to one side and I can be upset later, when I’m home, when I know I’ve done everything I can.
There isn’t time to feel cold any more. I get a couple of bags of shavings from the barn and rip the plastic coverings open, scattering them around to make Mabel’s bed as soft and warm as I can. I bank up the sides so if she does lie down there won’t be a draught creeping in from under the stable door.
Mum slips back into the stable. ‘How’s she doing?’
‘Good,’ says Polly. ‘She was lucky.’
‘I can’t thank you enough, Polly.’ Mum turns to look at me, putting her purse back in her bag. I feel a bit sick thinking about the bill. I add it to my things-to-think-about-later list and turn away, fixing the handles on Mabel’s water bucket so they’re facing the wall neatly.
Polly looks at me for a moment and I cast my eyes down.
‘What on earth were you thinking?’
‘I –’ I have to stop for a moment and swallow because the wave of everything is threatening to engulf me again. ‘I just –’
Mum shakes her head. ‘Thank God you were there.’ She reaches out to Polly, taking her hand and squeezing it.
‘It’s fine.’ Polly shakes her head. ‘The minute I saw the lot of them crossing the road I told Mel to pull up on Carol Street. We were walking down to give you a bollocking –’
I look up for a moment. She looks fierce but kind at the same time.
‘I could tell that it was going to end in some sort of disaster. And the next second, Mabel comes hurtling along the beach path like a bat out of hell.’
I close my eyes because I don’t want to picture it, but when I do I flash back to standing there, watching Mabel careering along the path.
‘Honestly, Polly, I can’t – I just – if you hadn’t been there . . .’ Mum tails off again.
Mabel gives a harrumphing sigh and clops over to her water. She takes a drink and looks at me, her eyes huge and liquid brown. She’s got a dressing on her one foreleg and some scrapes on the other, and the gash the vet has stitched makes me feel queasy. And guilty. I did this. I start shaking again. It starts inside, and within moments my knees are trembling so much that Mum reaches out and puts her arms round me.
‘Take her home, Julia. I’m staying in the flat above the tack room tonight; I’ll keep an eye on Mabel.’
‘I’m fine,’ I protest through chattering teeth.
‘You’ve had a shock,’ says Polly firmly. ‘You need a hot cup of tea and a big sleep.’
‘But I need to be here for her.’
‘Polly’s right, honey,’ says Mum. I try to protest, but she’s squeezed me more tightly so that when I speak it’s into a mouthful of her coat.
‘I promise you I’ll call if there’s any problem.’ Polly puts an arm over Mabel’s neck. ‘Look, she’s telling you to go home and get a rest. We’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Are you sure?’
I’m suddenly so tired that I feel as if I could sleep forever.
‘Promise.’
‘Polly, I can’t thank you enough for this. I – that’s just – I don’t even have the words,’ begins Mum.
‘No need,’ says Polly, shaking her head.
I don’t have the words either. And I can’t get my mouth to work. It’s like my face is frozen.
‘Thank you,’ I say, and I want to say so much more, but those two words cost me all the energy I have left.
I allow myself to be propelled towards the car by Mum. My legs are leaden and stiff. I’m still shaking.
‘Right,’ says Mum, switching on the engine. ‘That is more than enough drama for one night.’
It’s dark now and the headlights shine over the little paddock where the ponies live as we turn out of the yard. Tomorrow Mabel will be allowed out there to stretch her legs.
‘I’m sorry,’ says Mum, as we pull on to the shore road. ‘This is all my fault. I’ve been so busy thinking about myself that I’ve forgotten you girls.’
I turn to look at her, but she’s staring ahead, both hands on the wheel. I’m not sure where she gets that idea from. We drive past the park and the dip in the road and I close my eyes again because I don’t want to picture it. I’ve almost killed my horse and my attempts at making myself a popular like Holly have resulted in this. I’m sitting alone in the car, and I’ve got nobody.
‘Things are going to change,’ says Mum as we turn up towards home. The indicator light ticks and I tap my finger and thumb in time with it to reassure myself. But I’m so far past counting or tapping or humming or anything that would normally reset my brain. I feel as if I’m falling into a dark tunnel and I still can’t stop shaking.
‘When we get Leah back from Megan’s house tomorrow, I’m doing proper Sunday lunch and we’re going to have a serious chat.’
I press my head sideways against the cool of the glass, feeling the strands of my hair prickle on my skin.
‘Nearly there.’
She reaches across and squeezes my knee. It’s supposed to comfort me, I know, but it’s just more information when my brain’s already overloaded.
We pull into the drive. All I want to do is make it upstairs, climb under my covers, and sleep for a week. I shuffle in, ahead of Mum.
Leah’s left her Adventure Time satchel lying on the doorstep.
I step over it. The door is ajar.
I push it open, turning as I do so. ‘Did you leave the door open?’ I say to Mum, over my shoulder.
‘No, I didn’t.’ Mum’s face goes pale.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
There’s a sweetish, sickly sort of smell as I walk into the hall. I can’t place it.
‘Grace –’ Mum puts a hand on my arm, holding me back. She pushes past, shoving open the door into the sitting room.
‘Leah!’
I don’t get it –
I step forward into the room, and as I do the smell gets stronger. I cover my mouth and nose with my hand.
‘Leah.’
Mum’s on her knees beside the sofa.
That’s when I see her.
Leah is lying on her side, and her lips are bluish pale. One arm sticks out from underneath her, the fingers extended as if she’s reaching out to stroke Withnail or take something. But there’s a trail of silvery-green sick, which drips down from her mouth, over her arm, and pools on the wooden floor.
‘Oh God, oh God.’ Mum’s shaking her, and she’s starting to cry. ‘Leah.’
I can’t move. I just stand there, watching. It’s like my brain has run out of processing space. First Mabel and now Leah. And where are her friends? They must have known she was here.
There’s a g
roan from the sofa.
‘Leah,’ shouts Mum. ‘Can you hear me? Sweetheart. Darling – it’s Mummy.’ She pushes at Leah’s inert shape again.
‘Grace!’ She turns to me, her eyes flashing. ‘Call an ambulance.’
I can’t.
‘I can’t.’
‘What?’
I – I just can’t pick up the phone and speak to –
‘Call 999. Now.’
I shake my head and start walking backwards. I bump into the wall and shake my head again.
‘No.’
I can’t speak to a stranger now. I can’t make my words come. I can feel myself sliding down the wall.
‘Do I have to do everything myself?’ Mum’s still shaking Leah with one hand and pulling the phone out of her bag with the other. She looks at me with absolute hatred. I can see it burning in her eyes.
I close mine. I can’t do any more of anything. The relief that Mabel is OK has been instantly replaced by gut-wrenching fear. I can’t lose my sister. I can’t lose Leah. I feel frozen, like a hideous gargoyle, gripped in terror.
‘Ambulance,’ I hear Mum saying. There’s a sort of muffled groaning from Leah and as Mum’s talking she coughs.
I open my eyes and watch as Leah spews a never-ending fountain of vomit all over Mum. It pours over her arm and down into her bag, splashing all over the floor. And Mum just leans forward, dripping, and pulls Leah into her arms, and starts rubbing her back. And all I can think is that I knew she wasn’t going to a sleepover with Malia, and I knew she was hanging around with Lily Carmichael, and I let this happen. And now I’m going to lose her too, and I can’t bear it.
I watch as with her free hand Mum fiddles with the phone.
‘Lisa?’
I listen as she explains to Anna’s mum that Leah’s sick, that she needs a massive favour. There’s nodding and then Mum starts crying.
And then there’s a knock at the door. Something makes me stand up, and I pull the sitting-room door open.
‘All right, love?’ A paramedic in green and white smiles at me. He’s got a kind face.
And another one follows. She’s wearing a bright waistcoat and she pushes past, into the room. I step backwards out of it and sit on the stairs in the hall, waiting. After what might have been moments, or maybe ages – I don’t know – they come back with a trolley thing and I watch as Leah is rolled out of the front door towards an ambulance, which is waiting outside. I don’t even know if she’s alive. She’s just strapped there and there’s a weird sort of urgency in everyone’s voice and I can’t understand what the paramedic says through the radio but it sounds wrong. Wrong and scary and dark and – I don’t want this to be happening.
‘Oh God,’ says Mum as Lisa arrives. She pulls her bag on to her shoulder.
Lisa gives her a quick hug on the doorstep and I watch them both wipe away tears.
‘Hello, my lovely,’ says Lisa, turning to me. She’s given Mum a last touch on the shoulder as she rushes off to get into the back of the ambulance where my little sister is lying, blue, and covered in sick.
And then something happens.
My eyes start leaking tears, and they roll down my cheeks. I try to bat them away with the backs of my hands, but they just pour over the tops and through my fingers and down over my T-shirt. All I can think of is Leah’s deathly pale face and if I hadn’t been trying to impress everyone I would have been home and then Leah wouldn’t have been alone. And this would never have happened. I caused all of this.
And Anna’s mum – who smells of flowery things and different shampoo I don’t recognize and is round, and soft, and kind – sits on her knees in front of me at the foot of the stairs and she puts her arms round me and the tears leak out of me and all over her and she doesn’t seem to mind at all.
After a little while she sits back on her heels for a moment, and pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. I pick at the fluff on the stair carpet until I have a little ball of it in my hand as she reads a text, then looks at me with a soft smile. She’s got the same eyes as Anna, but crinkly at the sides.
‘Your mum says they’re doing a few tests, but they think Leah’s going to be fine.’
I nod. Which is surprisingly hard when you feel as if you’re made of stone.
‘They’re going to keep her in,’ Anna’s mum continues, ‘and just look after her a bit, make sure she’s got some fluids. She’s going to be feeling a bit rough for a couple of days.’
She stands, extending a hand to pull me up from the stairs. I let her help me and feel her hand wrapping round mine, warm and strong and capable. And it makes me think fleetingly of Anna and I feel unspeakably sad. I ran away from everyone and everything and they must all hate me for what I did. I swallow and it’s like a huge ball of lead passes down my throat and settles in my stomach.
‘I think we’ll get you up to bed. You go and pop on some PJs. I’ll get you a hot-water bottle. OK, darling?’
I nod. I want to ask if Anna’s OK and where she is and why she didn’t come too, but I can guess the answer. If she didn’t hate me for what happened, she’d be here. So I just keep my mouth closed and I wait politely until I can get into my room and under my covers and then I can just stay there forever.
And I realize the sickly sweet smell that’s filling the house is cider. Well, cider and puke.
Withnail is curled up on my bed. It looks so normal, like nothing has changed. I expected to walk in and find that the bed was burned and all the bookshelves were upside down and the chaos that was happening outside would have altered everything, but my bed is still unmade and yesterday’s clothes are still on the floor. The book I was reading when I couldn’t sleep last night is face down on the carpet and there’s a half-drunk coffee sitting on the bedside table.
‘Let me take that downstairs,’ says Lisa. She picks it up and a couple of other glasses and a plate, and stacks them together. ‘You girls,’ she says, and smiles a funny sort of smile. ‘I’ll be back in five minutes. Do you want to hop in the shower and warm up?’
I shake my head. I don’t even want to get changed. The idea of peeling off these layers seems impossibly hard. I sit down on the bed and begin, not because I want to, but because I know if I don’t when she gets back I’ll have to have the conversation all over again.
Withnail rubs her face across my hands as I’m pulling off my socks. She’s purring and slinking round in circles. I pick her up for a moment and bury my face in her soft, warm-smelling fur. Then my brain flashes a picture of Mabel standing, legs cut and scarred, in her stable. I caused that. I’m not an animal lover. If I was, I wouldn’t have let that happen. I don’t deserve her, and I don’t deserve Withnail. I put her down on the ground and pull off my jeans.
‘Here you are – I found two hot water bottles. Fluffy ones. I’ve had a call from your mum, and Leah’s on the ward. She’s sleeping, and she’s doing fine.’
I feel ashamed. Anna’s family are so nice and normal and everything happens the way it’s supposed to. And somehow – I don’t know how – one minute our house was the same every day and everything was boring. Now it feels like the whole family is falling apart.
‘I’ll pop them in there,’ says Lisa, and she pulls back the covers and tucks one hot water bottle at the foot of the bed, and another up by my pillow. She puts a hand on my shoulder and looks at me, her eyes – Anna’s eyes – kind. ‘You’ve had more than enough to deal with today, Grace. You, and your mum and Leah – all of you. You need to sleep.’
It’s like she can tell that my brain won’t stop whirring.
‘I’m going down to make you a hot chocolate. Get under those covers. No arguments.’
I pull on a pair of pyjamas that are stuffed under my pillow and climb under the covers. I know I’m not going to sleep tonight, no matter what she says. There’s no way I could.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
There’s a second when I wake up when everything is normal. I reach over, blurrily, for my phone
, but it’s not on the bedside table or under my pillow. Then I remember and it’s like being kicked in the stomach.
I curl away towards the wall, pulling my knees in until I’m as small as I can be, and I wrap the duvet around me and close my eyes.
I can’t do this. I can’t do any of it.
I need to see Leah and make sure she’s OK, but she’s in hospital and I just can’t face the lights, the sounds, or Mum. I also need to get to Mabel, make sure she’s OK, and that I can do.
My jodhpurs are inside out on the floor. I turn them the right way round, pulling an old work fleece of Dad’s out of the bottom drawer. I take my keys out of the back pocket of yesterday’s jeans and my phone falls out.
I take the phone, with one finger and thumb. I don’t want to look at it. It slips and falls on to the carpet because my hands are shaking and I realize the battery is most likely dead, anyway. I don’t want to turn it on and read the messages inside it. I don’t need to see them to imagine what they say.
You selfish bitch, what were you thinking, bringing a horse to the beach.
You don’t deserve a horse.
You should be reported to the RSPCA.
You don’t deserve friends.
You’re a bad person.
This is all your fault.
It’s all your fault.
It’s all my fault.
I put it in my pocket and creep downstairs. It’s still early and there’s no sound from Lisa. I write her a note to say I’ve gone to the stables and slide out of the front door so quietly that even Withnail doesn’t notice.
It’s harder to cycle than I expected. My muscles are aching from running along the shore road yesterday and I’m fighting to concentrate. Nothing’s working properly. It’s like I’ve got tunnel vision and as I cycle across the empty street a taxi blares its horn at me in the silence. I don’t know where it came from, but it almost hit me. I keep going. I’ve got to get to the stables, got to make sure Mabel is safe.
As I turn towards the yard, I realize what I have to do.
I pull up at the corner and take the phone from my pocket, and I drop it between the metal slats of the drain cover and wait a half second. There’s a plop and a splash as it falls down into the sewage system and I know that I never need to look at it again.
The State of Grace Page 17