Taking Flight

by Sheena Wilkinson

  They finish off with three jumps in a row, just a bounce between each one. Vicky pulls him up and pats him after the last one. ‘I think that’ll do us!’ she calls. ‘Fiona’s picking me up at two.’

  She always does that – just rides and leaves. I don’t think I would if I had a horse. I’d want to be with it. Like Sally and Nudge.

  ‘It’s ten to now,’ says Cam.

  I’ve been around horses long enough to know that they can’t put Flight out into the field like this. Even from where I’m standing I can see that he’s dripping with sweat, his nostrils red pits. He looks like he just won the Grand National or something. I empty the wheelbarrow and try not to think about the way I like Flight. I don’t want to like him more than the others but there’s something about him. Maybe it’s just because he’s Vicky’s.

  ‘Declan will cool him off for you,’ says Cam. ‘I need to grab some lunch before the next lesson. Is that you finished with the beds, Declan?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  She runs me through the routine briskly: ‘Saddle off, sweat rug on – run and get it, Vicky; it’s hanging on his door – then walk him round the school till he’s dry. Then turnout rug on and into the field – you know where he goes. Vicky, I said sweat rug! I thought you were the one in a hurry?’

  By the time Vicky gets back I have the saddle off and resting on the fence with the stirrups run up properly. Flight rubs his sweaty face against my chest and I laugh because it feels nice.

  ‘Don’t let him do that,’ she says. She flings the sweat rug over him and puts her hand on the reins even though I’m already holding him. ‘Are you sure you can manage?’ she asks. ‘He’s quite excited after jumping.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s fine.’

  ‘And when you put him out – he goes in the far paddock – don’t let him barge you at the gate. Can you manage the electric fence?’

  I try to make my voice patient. ‘Look, I put him out every morning when I was on work experience and brought him in every night.’

  She chews her lip and fiddles with her stick. Fiona’s red Audi swings into the yard. ‘Hell!’ she says. ‘I’m late. Look, are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ Then – and I know this is going to annoy her but I say it out of badness – ‘sure he knows me now, I’ve handled him so much.’

  She narrows her eyes. Her face is pinched and she still hasn’t let go of the reins. I gave them a gentle pull. A car horn blares, making Flight jump back and goggle at us with huge eyes. Vicky turns and stalks off. She doesn’t look back.

  * * *

  I stand with Colette beside her car and think about all the places I’ve been in it in the last few weeks. Behind us, the light shines out of the open front door onto the path.

  Colette nods in the direction of the house. ‘She looks OK, doesn’t she? Good form.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’d be happier if she hadn’t signed herself out, though.’

  She’s only saying what I’ve been thinking, so I nod. I take the bag she’s holding out. ‘Thanks for everything.’ I mean something way bigger than thanks but that’s all that comes out.

  ‘Come here,’ she says and hugs me so tight her hair tickles my cheek. Then she pulls back and looks at me. ‘You’ll remember what I said on Friday. About keeping in touch? I mean it, Declan. You’ll see Vicky at the yard at weekends, of course, but –’

  I don’t say anything. Vicky’s a total weirdo. She’s nice as pie until she sees me within a mile of Flight, then she’s a psycho. I don’t think I’m going to be seeing too much of her at the yard. At least I hope not.

  ‘I’ll call in as often as I can,’ Colette says.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And Declan – what you just told me about trying to get those GCSEs and getting to college. You stick at it, OK?’ She looks round the street. ‘If I can do it so can you.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Your mum’ll be really proud.’

  I’m not so sure. Not when she knows it means going to the other side of the country. But I just nod.

  ‘OK, love, better go.’ She gets into the car. I lean against our gate and watch till the Golf disappears round the corner. Then I pick up my bag and go in.

  The house looks the way it did when Gran was alive, tidy and shiny. There’s a smell of polish, though Mum’s already half-filled the ashtray with butts – not drinking must be making her smoke more – so that won’t last. Colette and I worked for hours on Friday night, changing beds, hoovering, wiping everything. Colette filled the fridge with food too. I don’t know if Mum’ll be pleased or if she’ll think Colette’s trying to take over a bit but she’s arranging the yellow roses Colette gave her and she smiles at me when I come in.

  ‘Well, here we are, son,’ she says.

  ‘Yeah.’

  She sets the vase on the mantelpiece. We both sit down and look at it. Mum says the flowers are lovely. I say they’re lovely. We look at them a bit more. I say they really are lovely. She says they really are lovely. I wish she would just put the TV on and ignore me and act normal.

  Then I think of something. ‘Mum, I’ve got something to tell you. About school.’

  Her head jerks up in alarm.

  ‘No, it’s good. Dermott reckons if I work really hard I could do OK. In my exams I mean.’

  ‘What does he mean, OK?’ She draws on her cigarette.

  ‘Like, GCSEs. Enough to go to the tech.’

  ‘Oh yeah? To do what?’ She sounds interested.

  ‘Well … not sure.’ For some reason I can’t tell her about the horses yet. ‘But if I get some exams I’ll have a choice, won’t I?’

  ‘God, son.’ She shakes her head. ‘Sure you’ve never been much of a one for school work.’

  Thanks Mum. ‘Only cause I never bothered my head. But last week I worked dead hard. Look – d’you want to see my homework diary?’ Mum hasn’t seen my homework diary since first year. Gran used to look at it sometimes but, God love her, there was never much to look at. It’s a bit of a joke – hardly anyone in our class does homework – but every Friday in extended form time Mr Dermott uncaps his green biro and does the rounds. Usually you just get a scribbled MD and the date, but this week on mine he wrote, ‘Great reports from all your teachers this week. Keep up the good work.’

  ‘See?’ I hand it to her.

  She takes the diary and the lines round her mouth disappear as her face relaxes into a smile. ‘Och, son, that’s great.’ She sighs. ‘I suppose that’s Colette rubbing off on you. She was always staying in and doing her homework.’

  ‘It wasn’t Colette. I just wanted to.’

  She reads what Dermott wrote again. ‘Well, I suppose I’ll have to keep you at it, won’t I?’

  ‘Yeah! You nag me to work and I’ll nag you to –’ I run into a brick wall.

  She sighs. ‘I know, son. Stay off the drink. Don’t you worry, I’m not ending up back in there. Things are going to change round here.’

  * * *

  ‘I see your ma’s out of the nuthouse? Don’t worry, Kelly – a few days back with you’ll soon send her back in.’

  I hitch my schoolbag up on my shoulder and walk out the gates as if Emmet hasn’t spoken.

  Girly heels trip along behind me. ‘Wait up, Declan, I’ll walk you home.’

  Great. But in a way it is nice to have company, even if it is only Seaneen.

  She pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her bag. ‘Want one?’

  I shake my head. ‘Nah. I’ve sort of gone off them.’

  ‘God, Declan, you’ll be serving on the altar next. Here, my granny says your mum’s home. Is she OK?’

  I shrug. ‘I think so.’ I don’t want to tell Seaneen too much, but knowing her and her nosy old granny she knows it all anyway. ‘She’s not drinking, if that’s what you mean. She’s cleaning.’

  ‘What?’ She lights her cigarette.

  ‘Cleaning the house. I’m scared to put a cup down. But I can live with it.’

  W
e’re at the top of my street and I can’t help doing the light-in-the-window check. Something like a bird flutters in my chest until I see the glow of a lamp behind the curtains, shining out into the dark December afternoon. Half the houses in Tirconnell Parade are lit up for Christmas – the street’s like Las Vegas – but that lamp’s enough for me. The bird stops flapping its wings and I realise Seaneen’s saying something about tonight.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said, d’you want to come out later?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘What for! Just to hang round. Me and Ciara and Kevin. Maybe Sean. Come on, it’ll be a laugh.’

  For maybe half a moment I’m tempted. But Sean and Kevin hang round with Emmet. Anyway, Colette’s coming round later. ‘Nah, you’re OK. Got stuff to do. See you, Seaneen.’

  She seems to trip, then I realise she’s lunging at me. Her lips graze mine for a second, just long enough to taste smoke and lip gloss – at least I suppose it’s lip gloss.

  ‘See you. If you change your mind we’ll be around.’ She’s away down her granny’s path, pony-tail bouncing, big earrings swinging. I don’t fancy Seaneen – I don’t think I do anyway – but I can’t help wondering what it’d be like to snog her properly, feel those tits pressed against you.

  But I won’t change my mind. I’ve got a bag full of Maths and History. Psycho gave me back my Macbeth coursework with, ‘You have been hiding your light under rather a large bushel,’ in her angry red scribble. No idea what that means but she gave me a B-.

  And in two days’ time I’ll be at the yard with the horses. So no, I won’t change my mind.

  Chapter 26

  VICKY

  All week I’d been avoiding Fliss and Becca – or they’d been avoiding me – but when I went to get a drink after my Science exam on Thursday there they were at the vending machine and there was no escape without looking like a total sap.

  ‘Oh. My. God.’ Fliss’s usually perfect hair was greasy and stringy – evidence that she’d been running her hands through it in despair for the past two hours. ‘That was the worst exam I have ever done. And after two hours of French! It’s cruelty!’ I didn’t know if she’d seen me or not.

  Becca fired a pound coin into the vending machine and bent down to retrieve a bottle of water. ‘I hate Science. Can’t wait to give it up.’

  I leaned against the vending machine and decided to have a go. After all, it had been a stupid quarrel, not worth breaking friends over. ‘The Physics was the worst. I didn’t mind the Chemistry.’

  ‘No way. The Chemistry was, like, impossible,’ said Becca in her normal voice.

  ‘Come on Becs,’ said Fliss. ‘Niamh is waiting for us.’

  I sighed and pulled my blazer round me. Becca would make friends, if I could get her on her own – she was too sweet to like falling out with anyone – but Fliss could keep a fight going for ages. And it wasn’t fair; I wasn’t jealous. Or poisonous. Or any of those things. They were.

  I glumped home on my own, trying to remember History dates all the way along the Lisburn Road. I remembered Declan asking me my History. It seemed much longer than a week ago. Life at home had snapped right back to what it was before he came. But it was so lovely never having to wait for the bathroom, never coming into a room to find Mum deep in conversation, never having to look at his sulky face across the dinner table. And Mum could say what she liked – she’d been in a really good mood since he moved out too. It was just … I wished he wasn’t at the yard. I remembered his hands on Flight’s reins last Saturday. The way Flight rubbed his head against him – he’d never done that to me. Ever.

  ‘You’re late, darling,’ Mum said, as I walked up the drive. She was putting something in the car. ‘You nearly missed me.’

  ‘I know.’ I put my schoolbag down. ‘The Science exam went on forever. But it didn’t seem as bad as usual.’

  ‘Probably that revision Rory was doing with you last night?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s dead good at explaining stuff.’ I thought I might have managed an A in Science for the first time ever. When Rory had offered to go over my Science with me I’d thought we could just do a wee bit of revision and kind of enjoy ourselves the rest of the time – we were in the dining room, and Mum was upstairs on the computer – but he’d taken it really seriously and hadn’t let me lose concentration at all. I was starting to realise he was a pretty serious guy – it was probably having all those younger brothers and sisters. As long as he was serious about me I wasn’t complaining!

  ‘Fliss and Becca getting on OK with their exams?’ Not for the first time I wished she didn’t know me so well. I hadn’t told her we’d fallen out but she must have guessed something.

  ‘I think so. Where are you going, anyway?’

  ‘To see Theresa and Declan – well, I’m going out for dinner later, but I wanted to call in to them on the way. I have a birthday present for Declan.’

  ‘I didn’t know it was his birthday.’

  ‘It’s next week, really. And to be honest, it gives me an excuse to call without Theresa thinking I’m checking up on her.’

  ‘Oh. You never used to get him a birthday present.’

  ‘Well, no, but it’s different now, isn’t it?’

  I didn’t answer.

  ‘Look, love, I’d better go – want to get there before the traffic’s totally impossible. There’s some of last night’s chilli in the fridge.’

  ‘OK.’ I didn’t say ‘Give my love to Declan.’ I picked up my bag and went in. The kitchen felt cold and empty. I looked at the chilli in the fridge and decided I wasn’t in the mood for it. I didn’t want to revise for History on my own. I might have texted Becca if only Fliss hadn’t snubbed me at the vending machine. I dragged out my History books and sat staring at them. At least there was only one more day of exams – English and History – and then on Saturday night Rory was taking me to one of his friends’ eighteenth birthday party, which somehow seemed a really grown-up thing to be going to. And it was only just over a week until the final and Flight was going better than ever. So there was a lot to look forward to. I couldn’t understand why I felt so – I tried to work out what it was – unsettled. Must be pre-menstrual, I decided, getting up to put the kettle on.

  It was only later, after she’d come in, that I realised I hadn’t asked Mum who she’d gone out to dinner with.

  * * *

  ‘Morning, Vicky.’ Fiona turned round from spooning some revolting sort of mush into a wriggling, head-twisting Molly who bashed her hands on the tray of her high chair and shrieked with delight when she saw me.

  ‘Hi Fi. Hi Molly.’ I yawned and felt the teapot on the Aga.

  ‘It’s just made,’ said Fiona. ‘Good girl, Molly-moo.’

  ‘Molly-who?’ I wrinkled my nose and took a mug out of the dishwasher.

  ‘I know.’ Fiona laughed. ‘I said no baby talk but …’ She changed the subject. ‘You’re late this morning.’

  ‘Tired after my mocks. Can’t wait to see Flight.’ I put some bread in the toaster.

  She lifted Molly’s bib to wipe her face and Molly screamed. ‘This is the last weekend before the final, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah. I wrote about it yesterday in my English exam. “Describe the proudest achievement of your life.” I did it all about us going to Dublin and winning the championship. It was really descriptive. I think I should get an A star.’

  ‘But it hasn’t happened yet!’ Fiona sounded horrified.

  ‘I couldn’t resist it. Anyway,’ I pressed the button and caught my toast, ‘Flight’s jumping like a champion. I can’t wait to ride him today. Why don’t you come with me? We could go on the farm trail again.’

  ‘And what about this monster? I can’t exactly strap her to my back.’

  ‘Oh. What about Dad?’

  ‘He’s playing golf.’ Then she said the stupidest thing I’d ever heard in my life. ‘Why don’t you get Declan to go with you? He can take Joy. I’ve told Cam he can exercise her wh
enever he likes.’

  ‘What? But he’s a beginner. And what about Sally?’

  ‘Sally doesn’t have time at weekends. And he’s a very good beginner, Vicky. Cam says it’s a long time since she taught anyone with so much potential. She really thinks a lot of him.’

  ‘Who thinks a lot of me?’ Dad came in, dressed for golf in a very dodgy jumper.

  ‘Ha ha. No, I was saying to Vicky, Cam thinks a lot of Declan. And it’s quite unlike her – she doesn’t really get close to people.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ I asked.

  Fiona handed Molly to me and I let her pull at my collar a bit. ‘You know how she is – keeps to herself. Runs the business brilliantly but keeps the customers – even people like me who’ve been there for years – at a distance. Have you ever been in her house?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Nor me. But Declan has. She brings him in for a cup of tea before he starts work. Says he could do with it after the walk from the bus stop.’

  ‘Huh.’

  ‘Well, I think it’s nice. She must have been so lonely losing her family like that.’

  ‘It was a car crash, wasn’t it?’ It was kind of common knowledge at the yard, but at the same time no one ever gossiped about it, at least never to me.

  ‘Joyriders,’ said Dad with a sort of satisfied look at Fiona. ‘The sort of scum Fi’s all for giving second chances to. Three of them in a stolen car. Came onto the M1 without looking.’

  ‘But don’t talk about it at the yard,’ Fiona warned.

  ‘Of course I won’t.’ But my mind was whirling. Cam’s family killed by joyriders – I wondered if Declan knew that. I wondered if she’d be so keen on him if she knew about his own little escapade. I wouldn’t tell her, of course. I just wondered.

  * * *

  The yard was quiet. Cam was teaching, but when I went to the big shed to get Flight I stopped at the sound of a soft voice talking affectionate nonsense.

  ‘Good boy, let’s see that hoof, you’re enjoying that, aren’t you?’

  Sounded like old Jim. I stopped in the doorway. Flight was tied up outside his stable and Declan was grooming him. The electric light was on and his coat gleamed like burnished copper. He was resting a hoof, head down, totally relaxed, ears flickering back and forwards at Declan’s voice. Jealousy punched me in the guts. He never stood like that for me.