What You Become

by C. J. Flood

  ‘Of course I’m sorry!’

  ‘Because I think, if you could just see Chase and your mum and dad, you wouldn’t be able to do this, what you’re doing now, what you’re planning. What Ophelia’s planning.’

  ‘Everything’s so black and white with you, isn’t it? Ophelia bad, Titania good. Phe’s right, you don’t get it.’

  ‘No, Ti, it’s you that doesn’t get it. You’re not helping your sister by doing this. Do you think everything will just be all right when you’re in London?’

  ‘Rosie, stop it.’

  ‘No, I’m serious. What makes you think there won’t be any more “accidents”?’

  ‘Rosie. You’re wrong about me. You think I’m better than I am. You always have.’

  ‘No. You’re wrong about you, Ti! I know exactly how good you are.’

  ‘Rosie . . . I need to tell you something. In the garden that time, with Chase—’

  ‘No.’ I sat back on the sofa, pulse racing. I knew what she was going to say.

  Ti swallowed, visibly nervous. ‘You’ve always thought so well of me,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t bear you knowing . . . that I—’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I wish so badly that I hadn’t.’

  ‘So Chase isn’t a liar? You did threaten her?’

  Ti nodded.

  ‘What’s wrong with you? Why would you even do that? What did you say?’

  ‘I said that she didn’t know who she was dealing with. That she didn’t know the kinds of people I knew. I was just trying to stop her from calling the police!’

  I felt my mouth open in disbelief. Not for one second had I believed Ti was capable of threatening a teacher, and yet somehow her confession wasn’t entirely shocking.

  ‘You should have told me.’

  ‘I know. I was ashamed. I could hardly admit it to myself.’

  ‘You should have trusted me.’

  We sat for a while in silence. It was another clear night, and out of the window of the summer house I could see the waves of the ocean reflecting the moonlight.

  ‘Poor Chase,’ I said after a while.

  ‘See. I’m not who you think I am,’ she said. ‘I’m not a good person. I’m broken.’

  ‘You’re not broken, Ti. You made a mistake, that’s all. You were stupid. But you didn’t start the fire. You don’t have to take the blame for that. You don’t have to disappear.’

  ‘Part of the reason Phe was so convinced about the affair was because she thought Chase had lied. I tried to tell her, that night at school, but she wouldn’t believe me. She thought I was just saying it to calm her down.’

  ‘Ti, listen to me, you’re not to blame for this. Ophelia is the one that set the Drama block on fire. There’s no excuse for doing that – can you not see?’

  ‘But what would we look like? Coming out of hiding after what we’ve put our parents through? It’s got too big, Rosie. We’ve caused too much trouble.’

  ‘People like to give second chances; they like to think they’ll get them for themselves. It’s true. Isn’t it?’

  Ti cocked her head to the side, and I felt hopeful for a second.

  ‘I can’t do it, Rosie. I can’t do it to Phe.’

  ‘And what about what she’s doing to you?’

  We could just about hear the sea from here, rearranging the stones at Durgan again and again like the world’s biggest obsessive compulsive, and I forced myself to say the thing I’d been thinking for a long time, that I’d never dared say before.

  ‘Ti, what if your sister needs proper help?’

  ‘She just needs to start again,’ Ti said too quickly. ‘We both do. A fresh start, that’s all. Listen, I’ll talk to her. I’ll see what she says. Just promise me you won’t do anything. Not until then.’

  Forty-eight

  Durgan Beach was fuller than on a hot day in August. Near the cliffs to the east, on the rocks where the girls had left their clothes stood Dad’s sound system and generator and a tower of speakers. From Will’s shed Ti and Ophelia would be able to hear the speeches. That’s what I’d latched on to as the sun rose. Too agitated to sleep I’d written my speech, trying hard to work out what I wanted to say. What I needed to say. What combination of words must Ti hear to realize what was right?

  Here and there candles in jars flickered against the dark, and the sea rushed in and out. Dad held a clipboard and answered questions, and I couldn’t help smiling. He and his activist friends wore T-shirts emblazoned with SISTERS COME BACK, and I was glad he hadn’t listened to me when I told him being on their side now made him look like a hypocrite.

  A banner with the same words hung from a table full of bottles of pop and plastic cups that Mum attended to, seated in the deckchair Dad had set up for her. Her medication seemed to be working, and she had persuaded Dad to let her try attending tonight. ‘How could I miss our daughter’s first speech?’ she’d said, and Dad had caved.

  It was like fireworks exploding inside my chest, seeing how much effort people had made. There was no way Ti could leave when she saw the turnout.

  Joey was babbling about what he was going to say when she revealed herself. He was going to give her a cuddle, and then tell her off, but not too much, because she would already be feeling bad, plus her mum and dad would be planning to tell her off properly . . .

  Walking here, the streets had been busy with a mixture of kids from school and people from Ti’s church, as well as a handful of overweight customers I recognized from bleary mornings waiting for Ti at the De Furia café. There were teachers and shopkeepers too, though no sign of Kes or Ms Chase. Her absence hovered over proceedings, and I wondered how she was. Dad swore that when it came to hospitals no news was good news, and I hoped that he was right.

  Kids dodged around in gangs, setting up little games and making the most of being allowed out late. They ran and whooped, wound up by the idea of a disappearance, while curious detached adults sipped from paper cups. Dad had made it into an event.

  A canny student had cycled down a freezer and generator and was selling ice creams to a growing queue of excitable kids, and Joey tugged at my arm, begging for money to get one. I found a pound in the bottom of my bag, and off he went, fist tight round his money, positive things were going to turn out okay. It was only two minutes to Will’s shed from here, I could see what Ti was making of all this, while Joey queued.

  It was tough running up the narrow cliff path with all the oncoming traffic, but I made it, scanning the hedgerows as I went. The wild area around Daphne’s bench was clear too. There was just the odd cluster of people now; most of those who were going to attend had already taken their places. The attic light was on at Kiaru’s house, which made my stomach flip, but the summer house was empty. Too early for Ti to be there.

  Will’s house looked empty too, as I let myself through the gate. There was nobody in the shed. Or so I thought, until I looked down to find Will, Ti and Ophelia huddled together on the floor beneath a blanket.

  ‘Effing hell!’ Ophelia gasped. ‘We thought you were Charlie.’

  ‘She’s been following me,’ Will said, standing, and brushing dust from his front. ‘She knows something’s up.’ From their lack of shock I knew Ti had told them we’d been meeting.

  Will picked a bag from a pile, and made for the door.

  Ophelia’s eyes were bright, and her cheeks flushed even in the low light. Ti wasn’t looking at me.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I said.

  ‘Road in two minutes,’ Will said. ‘Not a second more.’

  Ophelia grabbed him in a hug, and laughed, and Will reached over to Ti and clamped her head in his palm, the way I did to Joey sometimes, and she dodged out his way, a reluctant smile on her face.

  ‘Ti, what’s going on?’ I said again, though it was obvious. Will nudged past me, preparing to dash through his garden. ‘What about the vigil?’

  ‘What about it?’ Ophelia said, at the same time as Will said: ‘It’s the perfect cover.’
/>   ‘Won’t it look suspicious if you’re not there, though, Will?’ I pleaded.

  ‘Two minutes,’ he repeated.

  Joey was going to be heartbroken. I couldn’t even think about Fab and June.

  ‘Ti, you can’t do this. People are coming out for you.’

  Ophelia sneered. ‘They’re coming out for themselves. They’re only sorry because they think we’re dead. Soon as we’re alive we’re criminals.’

  ‘You’re a criminal anyway! Jesus, Ophelia. You set fire to the school! And how long do you think you’ll be able to hide for? Ti? Are you never going to see your mum or dad or me or Joey again?’

  ‘Oh, just go away, would you? This is nothing to do with you,’ Ophelia said, picking up a huge rucksack and pushing past me. Ti stood with her arms limp at her sides, eyes cast down.

  ‘If you go now, I’m going to tell everyone you’ve been hiding. I’ll send them chasing after you.’

  ‘You haven’t got the guts,’ Ophelia said, walking away perfectly confident across the garden.

  ‘I bloody have!’ I called after her.

  She scoffed, and I felt a hand on the small of my back – ‘I’m sorry’ – then Ti hurried past me too.

  ‘Ti, please,’ I said, following her.

  ‘I can’t do it,’ she said, hurrying forward. ‘I am sorry. I just don’t want Ophelia to go to prison. I don’t want to be hated even more. “No more strikes”, that’s what they said last time they picked her up. And I got a warning for being at Chase’s house. What if they make it look like it was premeditated?’

  ‘Ti, you didn’t start the fire.’

  ‘The only way I can stay is if I say I did, though,’ she said. ‘I’ve thought about it all day. Do you want me to do that?’

  ‘That’s not the only way you can stay! Stop saying that!’

  From the beach floated up the sound of June singing ‘Ave Maria’, and Ti dissolved into tears, backing away from me.

  ‘That’s your mum down there,’ I said, because we both knew how much it must have taken for June to get on stage. Her voice was so full of hope. How could Ti do this to her? In the road a horn honked, and I could imagine Ophelia reaching over Will to press it.

  ‘If you cared about your sister at all, you would make her face up to this.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I can’t do it. Please don’t tell everyone, Rosie. Please. They’ll hate us.’

  And then she ran after her sister, the same way she always had, and I wanted to scream because she was so pathetic, and how had I ever followed her anywhere? Sprinting back to the coast path to find my brother, I didn’t care if anyone saw. What was there left to lose? Crushing my speech into a ball as I left Will’s garden, I lobbed it into the hedge.

  Forty-nine

  Joey grinned, offering me what was left of his ice cream. ‘Not long now,’ he said, falling into step beside me. He looked confused when I refused the flake he’d saved.

  You won’t see her again, I wanted to say. Ti is leaving right now, and I don’t know how to stop her.

  But that wasn’t true. I knew exactly how to stop her, I could whisper in June’s ear or tell Dad or grab the microphone. She’s been hiding. I’ve been hiding her. Will is driving them out of town; we can catch them if we leave now.

  But what Ophelia had said rang in my ears. As soon as people knew the truth – especially if it came from me – they would see them as criminals. The girls were forgivable if they were dead or missing. But not if they came back. Where was the logic in that?

  Joey put a sticky hand on my arm, wanting to know what was wrong, but I was trapped with my thoughts. I should have told the truth that first day, instead of making promises I couldn’t keep because I felt guilty. Now I’d backed myself into the same corner they had. Why wasn’t I able to think ahead? Why did I always get it wrong?

  I hated Ti. No wonder I’d been so easily distracted by Kiaru and Alisha. Ti was a disaster. She acted so different when Ophelia was there, like I wasn’t important at all. And did she really believe she was helping her sister? It was exhausting watching her make a mess of every chance anyone gave her. I was sick of it. Sick of her.

  Joey licked his ice cream beside me, and I felt like such a gruesome phoney down here at the vigil when the twins were on their way out of town. They would cause trouble in London, and nobody would be there to pick up the pieces. No parents or money or friends. The gorse threw out the smell of coconut, and the sea turned the stones on the shore, and I knew I’d never enjoy a day at this beach again.

  My lip hurt and I realized I was biting it. I knew she didn’t want to go, but she wouldn’t say it and it made me so mad. All this time I’d thought she was strong, because she looked out for me, but she was weak. She was even weaker than I was! How had I never realized?

  I scanned the candle-carrying people filling the beach, my eyes searching nervously for June and Fab. How could I face them? My involvement no longer seemed kind or noble. It was impossible to remember what I’d been thinking.

  We were right by the makeshift stage that Dad and his colleagues had built from crates and scaffolding planks, and I closed my eyes, wanting to kick at the tiny stones and shout at the sky, because I was such an unbelievable idiot. I’d gone along with someone else’s plan when I should have spoken up. Again. I was still doing it. The same coward I’d always been, that I’d always be, getting it wrong over and over.

  Julie from Dad’s department walked through the crowd, handing out candles to those without. She squeezed my shoulder as she passed me a tea light in a jar, and it was a shock to feel something outside of me, I was so deep in my own thoughts.

  Joey let go of my hand, and bolted over to where Dad was standing, giving out fliers, and then I saw them.

  Fab and June.

  Hopeful smiles plastered on to their faces, arms stiff and hands clasped together. My stomach flipped, and I made a dash for Dad.

  ‘Rosie!’ Fab was heading through the throngs of people towards me, candle in hand, June a step behind, her expression suddenly animated.

  He pulled me into a hug – the first one he’d given me since before Chase’s garden – and I thought I would die, but June was next, and I could feel her fast bird-like heartbeat as she clasped me to her.

  ‘You’ve done such a good job!’ she said, and her voice was so cheerful I could have cried. ‘Your dad knows so many people!’

  ‘We couldn’t have done this without you,’ Fab agreed, his deep voice cracking as he pulled me in for another hug. ‘I’m sorry, I wanted to be strong, not cry, but it’s hard. All these people . . . and then you, Rosie, cuddling you, you feel just the same size, the same shape as, as . . .’

  June pressed her lips together in apology, and began whispering to Fab who nodded, eyes scrunched shut, and I pointed in the general direction of my dad, backing away and heading over to him, stumbling over the layers of rocks. I couldn’t go along with this, and I couldn’t confess either.

  Joey leapt out from where he had been crouching, and I thought I might puke I jumped so much.

  ‘Got you!’ he screamed. ‘Got you! I got you! I got you!’

  ‘Have some respect, Joseph! This isn’t a party,’ Dad hissed at him, and Joey toned down his grin, but his eyes still sparkled.

  He looked at me for reassurance, but I was all out.

  ‘Rosie?’ He pulled against me, dropping all his weight off the end of my hand.

  ‘What if they have gone, Joe? What if they really have gone?’

  ‘Not possible,’ Joey said, but his eyes had changed: glitter shifted to wood. His mouth was pressed firmly into a line, and he held his own weight again.

  ‘No!’ he said, stamping his foot, as if scolding a dog.

  People jostled all around us, pushing forward as more made their way on to the beach, and then the microphone screeched and Dad was up on the stage.

  ‘Thank you for coming! Thank you so much for coming here tonight in solidarity for our miss
ing girls: Titania and Ophelia De Furia. And thank you to June, for that emotive performance. We are all extremely hopeful that the twins will return, and I would like everyone to bear this in mind as they light their candles tonight – lighters are making their way around, don’t worry – this is not, I repeat, not, a memorial.’

  Fab and June stood to the left of him, at the side of the stage, clasped together like a pair of teenagers. Tears ran down Fab’s face and June’s lips moved fervently, the fingers of her hand not held by her husband clutching rosary beads, and my heart hurt with all their wanting. I wondered if Fab was really going to speak, and if I would be able to stand it if he did.

  The road out of town would be quiet now. Everybody who was coming would be here or close by, everyone else tucked away in their houses. Will was right: it was the perfect cover. Soon they would reach the bypass.

  If I spoke up, we could catch them. But it would confirm all of the worst charges against them as well. Ti might never forgive me. But if I didn’t speak, they would be lost. And Ophelia would be right about me.

  Dad talked on, but the babble in my head was so violent I couldn’t understand. Somebody lit my candle, and I stared at the flame. All around me people clapped, and Dad stood with the microphone held out, eyes resting on me as he waited for the next speaker. The crowd looked at me, and it was like a nightmare – what did they want? – and then I realized.

  I’d asked to speak early because I was so nervous. I’d thought I would be speaking up for Ti, finally, saying the things I should have said a long time ago. Deep down, I’d thought that somehow she would be here, in the crowd or listening on the coast path, I’d never believed she’d be able to run like that.

  The audience applause was running dry, expectant. It was like falling into a dream, and the flamethrowers threw, but what did that matter? It was dark, and clouds rushed overhead in a smooth grey stream, and I had no idea what I was going to say.

  Letting go of Joey’s hand, I walked onstage.

  Fifty