Eden Summer

by Liz Flanagan

‘I’ll do anything! Let her be alive.’

  The world waits. It’s not enough.

  What can I give?

  ‘Let me be in time. If she’s alive, I’ll give up Liam.’

  It’s what I want most, next to this, so it has to be that. I feel my sacrifice ripping out of me, painful and real.

  ‘I’ll do it, I promise. I’ll do the right thing, I’ll give him up. Just let Eden be alive!’

  My prayer ripples out into the night. I picture it, a little flimsy, feathered wish. It flies up, changing the fabric of space and time. I can’t bring back the dead, but I can restore this balance. I can give up my first love, for her.

  My feet change rhythm as I hit the descent: staccato, offbeat steps. I see the river through the trees.

  I need to be careful. I slow down. I silence my feet.

  I pick my way over the last stones, and then dart over the little packhorse bridge: nothing more than two vast stones laid right across the river. I hide in the shadow of a slender tree, searching the wide moonlit palm of the valley.

  Finish line? Or failure?

  I stand there, every nerve strung tight, ready to run or fight or scream for help. I leave the bridge and tiptoe across the grass, scanning left to right, left to right. My eyes strain into the darkness. I see nothing moving in the dark blue shadows. There’s no one here. I’m wrong. I’ve failed.

  I swing round, ready to howl at the moon.

  That’s when I see her.

  Eden’s there. Lying on the big rock. Her hair streams out, white gold in the moonlight, like she’s a fairy-tale princess. One hand hangs limply down.

  I fall on my knees.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  9.32 p.m.

  I am a ghost. I’m pale and papery. I have no substance. I have no idea how I cross the space between us.

  I’m too late. Do I touch her? I dare not.

  Somehow, I climb up.

  If there’s someone else here, I’ve stopped caring. I’ve found Eden. Nothing else matters.

  Her skin is ivory and perfect. Her eyes are closed.

  I can’t even tell if she’s breathing.

  I can’t tell if I am.

  Something crinkles under my elbow. It’s a foil packet of pills. No bigger than my hand, and yet it’s done this? I hold it up to the shaking light of my phone, reading the weird brand name, trying to see how many of the small white ovals have been pushed through the layer of foil. I count, trembling, and find six little empty nests of crumpled plastic. Six? Is that enough to die?

  ‘Don’t leave me. No!’

  I can’t believe I’ve come all this way, too late.

  I can’t believe she’s dead.

  ‘Eden, Eden, no …’ My tears drip onto her face.

  My tears.

  Not a kiss.

  This is what wakes her.

  ‘Jess. You came.’

  Her skin is warm. Her hair is warm. She is real and alive and warm.

  I collapse onto the rock next to her. I hug her to me, so tightly I can even feel her heart, pounding out the truth.

  The bomb inside me melts, instead of exploding. I’m a river. I’m a flood. I’m crying and gasping. This must be hysteria, but happy. I stutter and sob. I’m tears and snot. I’m pure gratitude. I will never, ever complain of anything again.

  Eden is alive.

  ‘Of course I came. I’m so glad you rang.’ I sniff and rub at my face. ‘But why didn’t you say something? What if I’d guessed wrong?’

  She doesn’t answer me. And then I realize: what about the pills?

  It occurs to me in a horrible rush, this might be false relief. She’s alive now, sure, but what has she done? ‘Is that why you didn’t speak? Cos you didn’t want me to find you? Have you taken these?’ I fumble on the rock, up on my elbows. ‘Tell me. Eden, what have you done?’ I realize I can smell whisky; that’s the stale whiff on her hoodie. I shake the packet of pills in her face. ‘What is this stuff? How many have you had? When did you take them?’

  ‘I haven’t. All right? I was going to, last night, but I haven’t …’ Eden sounds strange. Her words are slurring, her eyes won’t focus on me.

  ‘So why are they here?’ She must’ve taken them. She’s taken them and she’s lying to me, so the pills have time to work. ‘Some are gone. Oh my God, Eden … what did you do?’

  ‘I was gonna chuck them away, OK?’ She doesn’t sound like herself. She’s trembling. She’s ashen and shaking, mumbling at me, ‘They’re Mum’s. She’s got ’em from the doctor, after Iona … I wasn’t going to take them. Well, I was, but …’

  ‘What do you mean, you were going to take them?’

  ‘I didn’t know what to do … I wanted to tell you, talk to you.’

  ‘Have you taken any?’

  ‘No. I changed my mind. But I didn’t know how to come home …’ She’s whispering so low I can hardly hear her.

  Now I’m really scared.

  I ring 999 because I can’t trust her to tell me the truth about this, not if she’s already decided to die. I hold on to her tightly with my free hand, gripping her hoodie like she’s a hyperactive toddler, so she can’t run off again, even though I can feel all the fight has gone out of her.

  ‘What service do you need?’ a man’s voice asks me.

  ‘What service? Oh, an ambulance! Quick. And the police will need to know …’ I give our location, Eden’s name. Tell him she’s the missing girl, alive, but I don’t know what she’s taken. I spell out the brand name of the pills, feeling like I’ve just called her a liar.

  Afterwards, Eden doesn’t speak. It seems very quiet, and we just sit there, hunched up next to each other, with the river gurgling away like it always does, even if your world is ending. I take my hoodie out of my backpack and try to cover her with it.

  Tugging the fabric around Eden creates a layer of normality, as if we’re just having a sleepover or something, trying to get comfy as we talk all night. But she might be dying, and this might be our last chance to say it all. In the moonlight, our world’s gone eerie and surreal.

  ‘I’m sorry E.’ I wrap my arm around her shoulder and try to pull her close to me, for warmth, ‘I know about Iona. What you were going to tell me, about her being adopted. But you can’t blame yourself for what happened. And it’s no reason to do this!’

  ‘How do you know that, Jess?’ She pulls away, still slurring.

  I can see her eyes, heavy-lidded, struggling to stay open. A new spiral of pain starts mining down into my heart. ‘No, Eden. Don’t you fall asleep. Stay with me!’ I slap her cheek gently.

  ‘Get off me. Anyway, what do you know about my reasons?’ She’s back, glaring at me from under her lashes. ‘S’my turn to be the grieving fuck-up. You had your go!’

  ‘Well, you don’t get to give up! I didn’t give up, did I?’

  ‘It’s my turn. My rules. And I choose when it’s game over …’

  ‘Oh, we’re playing a game now? What’s that then: Top Trumps of Pain?’ I’m actually angry with her, even if she is dying. ‘Yeah, OK, you win. Death of a sister beats old-news hate crime hands down!’

  She has her eyes closed, curling into a ball.

  I shake her arm, trying to wake her up. ‘Is that what you were playing at today?’ I ask her, my voice cracking into tears. ‘Going for the prize in the game of I hurt so much I’m going to kill myself? “Look, I’m dead, so I win!” And the great thing is how much you fuck up the rest of us who are left behind, so we never forgive ourselves for the rest of our lives. And we don’t even get to answer back.’

  I don’t know who’s talking. I don’t sound like me. I sound stronger than I feel. Have I changed so much today? ‘I was there for you this summer. Just like you were there for me before. It’s what we do. I bloody love you. I’m glad you’re alive. Thinking you were dead today, it nearly killed me.’

  I can’t tell if she’s listening. She’s leaning forward now, all tense and trembly, with her hair hanging in her face
so I can’t see her expression.

  ‘The thing is, if you kill yourself, Eden Holby, you know what? You take me with you. What’s my life, without you in it? So you just think about that.’

  ‘I did think about that. You and Liam, you’d be fine. I know you like him. I know what happened at the party.’ She turns her head slowly to face me, all pale in the milky darkness, her eyes like huge dark pools. ‘Was I not hurting enough?’

  Her words cut me.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, all my fight gone. ‘It just ha—’

  ‘Don’t you dare tell me it just happened. Bollocks. S’always a choice. I knew he’d choose you in the end. Little Jess. Little bird with a broken wing …’

  Her knife goes deeper.

  I take a breath, ‘OK, yeah, I screwed up. I fell in love with Liam. If it makes it any better, it happened years ago, but I never said. I never did anything! I buried it, OK? It was just that night. He was so sad when you went off with Tyler …’

  ‘So it’s my fault? As usual.’

  ‘No. Listen to me for once. You don’t listen enough.’ You’d think that I’d be more gentle, if she’d taken pills and was slipping away, but suddenly the most important thing is to be honest. Even if we’ve only got a bit of time. Especially then. I think she likes it too. She almost smiles, a little flicker, and shuts up for once.

  ‘Yes, I love Liam, but I love you more,’ I tell her. ‘Liam knows that. He loves you too. We’ve been looking bloody everywhere for you, E. We’ve walked miles.’ I slump forwards, and I’m shattered suddenly. I’m completely done in. I’ve got nothing left. I want to go to sleep, leaning against her.

  ‘I love you, too. Honest. I just got stuck.’ She sounds stronger now, more normal. Maybe she’s just tired and hungover, not overdosed after all? She’s been missing from home a night and a day. When did she eat or sleep? No wonder she can’t stay awake. Maybe she’s telling the truth.

  A spark, then a little flicker of hope, starts burning inside me. I feel her arm work its way around my shoulders.

  We hug, properly, at last. Like hundreds of times before. Like never before. I can feel her skin, her shoulder blades beneath my fingertips, and even after everything, her hair smells so right, all fresh and appley and just like her.

  We cling to each other.

  ‘Where did you go, Eden?’ I can’t help myself; I just blurt it out, into her hair.

  She takes a deep ragged breath, ‘Liam walked me home, after we rowed. Split up, finally.’

  What? He never mentioned it.

  ‘And yes, I know, what did I expect, after Saturday?’

  I don’t react. I just listen.

  ‘I was gonna have a drink, then sneak out to meet Tyler. Did that Tuesday night. Said I’d meet him again. But I couldn’t. Was like hitting a wall. I was tired of hurting. Tired of being sad and guilty. I wanted to sleep, forever. So I got Mum’s pills, a bottle of Dad’s whisky. I went out and I just walked.’

  Her walking boots had been missing – that was what I’d almost noticed at her house. So I had been right about the sandals.

  ‘I walked and walked, all night. I got near Stoodley Pike, just before morning. It seemed like the right place. Lonely, but I knew there’d be walkers next day, to find … me. I texted Mum, to say sorry.’

  Shit. I bite down my words. I won’t interrupt.

  ‘I was going to do it. These pills, washed down with whisky. I drank a bit first, for courage. I thought I’d just go to sleep. Seemed an OK way to go. But I spilled the bloody whisky all down me, hands were shaking with cold and whatever … I’ve never been good at swallowing pills with no drink.’

  She sounds more normal now, dreamy, as if she’s telling me a bedtime story.

  ‘It got light. The clouds were lovely, Jess, all pale and pearly. It did look a bit like heaven. Got me thinking about Iona. How much she’d want to live, if she could. If she had the choice, she wouldn’t die. She had so much she wanted to do.

  ‘So I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t chuck it all away, in case it did get better in the end. I thought of Mum and Dad, finding me. I thought of you. I couldn’t do it, Jess, I couldn’t.’

  She crumples now, her lovely face all blotchy and sobbing and snotty.

  I sit quietly, being patient. Being her rock. When she calms a bit, I offer her the sleeve of the hoodie and she wipes her cheeks on it. ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I lay there, freezing cold. Then I went up the tower and sat there, watching it get properly light. When the sun came up, I could see all the hills and woods and farms and houses, right across the valley. It was so beautiful, Jess …’ She fades out for a bit. Then tries again. ‘Was like I’d been given a chance. A new day. I needed to think. I didn’t want to walk back into the same crap …’

  ‘Where were you? I looked all over …’

  ‘Just walking. Across the top of the moor. Walking. Thinking. Trying to answer all my questions. Then I went to our old house. I saw the new people. Little kids coming in from school: two girls on our trampoline. Like me ’n’ Iona. Like we used to be.’ She cries harder for a bit. ‘Me and Iona, before – we were happy, weren’t we?’

  I squeeze her arm, ‘Yeah, you really were.’ Eden and Iona, running wild in the fields, walking to the village school, still friends. It was when they moved house that everything changed.

  ‘I’m not kidding myself? I mean, those bits are just as real, right?’ She gulps her sobs down. ‘Now Iona is dead, you can see her whole life. And it’s OK to remember further back … the good bits.’

  ‘Course it is, E,’ I tell her. ‘I’ve been doing that. Bet everyone has.’

  ‘Anyway, it’s what I’ve been thinking about today. And I wanted more. I wanted to go back to the best bits, you know? So I came here.’

  I nod. I do know.

  ‘But she isn’t here. She’s not coming back. I have to face it. That this is the hardest thing ever. That I miss her. That I love her. And she didn’t know.’ She fades out and I feel her take a huge breath.

  ‘Jess, I need you to know what I did, that night. The night she died …’

  ‘It’s OK.’ I can hear how much this is hurting her. ‘You don’t have to say it …’

  ‘J, let me tell you the worst. And you can judge me, or whatever. But I need to get it out, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ I tell her, hugging her a little tighter.

  ‘After we fought at the parade, it was cold war. She knew I knew, the adoption stuff, but we didn’t talk about it. I was so angry. Fighting back.’

  ‘Well, you’d taken it long enough …’ I say gently, but she shushes me. I know she just needs to speak.

  ‘Kicked off at dinner. She was smirking at me, till I snapped at her. Dad lost it, said all he wanted was for us to eat a meal like a normal family.’

  ‘So I said we weren’t. We’d never be a normal family. Dad started yelling at me to apologize. Anyway, I blew up. Told them they were all liars.’

  I wince. ‘Shit.’

  ‘Hitting fan. Yeah. Iona didn’t realize. She laughed at me, all look who’s in trouble now, for a change. She always knew how to push my buttons. I flipped. Picked up my glass and threw it at her. It shattered on the wall, bits flying everywhere. Iona’s arm started bleeding. Dad went mental. Told me to get out.’

  I can feel her getting more rigid and tense in my arms.

  ‘So I said Iona should get out, not me, seeing as she was the one who didn’t belong. I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to hurt her back, like she’d been hurting me. Jess, I called her a stray dog. Asked if they got her down the rescue centre.’

  It’s like she’s reading out lines, as a punishment, but she keeps on, grimly.

  ‘I said it was no wonder she was such a bitch; her real mum was probably some psycho junkie whore. That’s when Mum slapped me.’

  ‘Your mum?’ I’m shocked.

  ‘Yeah, first time for everything. She’s never hit either of us. Never.’

  ‘What did you do?
’

  ‘Ran upstairs. Heard Iona slam the front door and drive off in Mum’s car. Mum and Dad, they’d had a few Friday-night drinks, so they couldn’t go after her. I tried to say sorry. Dad said I’d done enough damage for one night.

  ‘Waiting was grim. I think I fell asleep on the sofa for a bit. It was just light when the police came … Mum screaming. Dad crying. I’d never seen my dad cry before.’

  I can’t speak. My eyes are full of tears as I hold her.

  ‘I’m so sorry for today.’ She’s breaking down now too. I feel her sobs, her ribs shaking. ‘It just hurt so much, I couldn’t keep on going. I’m not that strong. I can’t …’

  She pulls back, and I see her mouth fall open in a wide O of pure pain and for once Eden Holby is as ugly as the grief that shakes her.

  ‘Yes, you can. And you will. And we’ll be there with you.’ I don’t let her go. I hold on as she howls it out and I cry right along with her, longer than I think possible, till finally we’re done.

  We’re damp and wrung out, shipwrecked on that stupid rock.

  ‘It seemed like the only thing left for me to do. Iona’s dead and it’s my fault and I can’t make it right. I can’t bring her back and I can’t say sorry. My parents are destroyed and I can’t fix it. I can only show how bad I feel, how sorry I am.’

  ‘What, by taking away the only thing they have left?’ I can’t believe she could be so stupid.

  ‘Yeah, OK, so I got there in the end. That’s why I’m still here. And cos of you. An’ Tyler. And him.’

  When I lift my head from her shoulder, there’s someone in a pale blue T-shirt coming along the far bank, faster, faster, faster …

  Liam is too impatient to go around and cross the bridge. He splashes through the water at the top of the weir. ‘Eden? Eden! Is that you?’ he shouts in a voice that I’ve not heard before.

  And she slides off, scraping and bumping her way down. She goes to him.

  Eden and Liam stand in the river, embracing so tightly they’re one figure. A tall shape, lit from behind with the projections still beaming into the sky from the party down the valley. Together they’re a lighthouse. So no one is ruined on the rocks.

  I get up, shivering now too, and slip down to the grassy bank, only skinning one of my palms on the way.