A Flash of Blue

by Maria Farrer

  “Nothing’s changed then.”

  I raise my eyebrows. I’m not sure what he means.

  “Your dad. He used to drive Liam mad with his competitiveness.”

  This is news to me.

  “And your mum?” he says. “You said she wasn’t well.”

  I crank my head back and stare at the ceiling. “Terrible.” Saying it out loud makes me feel better. “She drinks all the time. Some days she doesn’t leave her room. Dad pretends nothing is wrong and leaves me to deal with it.” I can’t believe I’m telling Tyler all this.

  Tyler’s got his chin on his hands, his elbows resting on the table. His face seems charged with an energy that’s both unnerving and mesmerizing at the same time.

  “So he’s in denial,” says Tyler.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “They’re both in denial. You are too.”

  “Since when were you the expert?”

  “I had some counselling after Liam died. They talked about stuff like denial.”

  “I wasn’t offered any counselling.” That’s not quite true, I did have a meeting with a woman at school who told me I could come and talk to her at any time. I never did. I was too scared of what she might ask me.

  “You didn’t miss anything,” says Tyler. “I stopped going. I needed to work stuff out for myself. It’s one of the reasons I’m here.”

  I’d give anything to have Tyler’s freedom — my own place to hide away from the world with no one to tell me what to do, no one’s expectations to live up to, no responsibilities. Just being out here, in this caravan in the middle of nowhere, makes me feel different.

  “You’re lucky,” I say.

  He looks at me as if I’m mad, his eyes fixed on mine. I can hear his foot tapping up and down against the caravan floor. Suddenly he sits back. “You don’t mean that,” he says. “I don’t think you could describe either of us as lucky.”

  Tyler’s rapid mood change puts me on edge. I stand up and carry our bowls towards a small, round sink. Tyler follows.

  “Leave them,” he says. His hands are on my shoulders. I slide away from him and place the bowls carefully in the sink.

  He backs off. “I’ll get your bed ready. You can use the bathroom.” He throws open a door to a room no bigger than a small cupboard. Inside is a grubby-looking chemical toilet. He grabs a candle and puts it on a little shelf. “You can brush your teeth out here in the sink.” He turns and puts his foot on a small pedal on the floor and presses it up and down a few times. A thin stream of water comes from the tap, spraying the cereal bowls. “It’s safe to drink,” he says.

  I get my toothbrush from my bag. It’s uncomfortable brushing your teeth and spitting in front of a near-stranger and I keep my head low over the sink, scooping little handfuls of water into my mouth. Tyler pulls out the old sleeping bag and shakes it out on to the seat that will become my bed. I sense he is watching my every move. There’s no obvious towel so I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand and go into the toilet, closing the flimsy door behind me.

  Shut in this tiny room, I try to gather my thoughts together. A caravan, a candle for light, a boy I hardly know outside. How have I ended up here? I should be worried out of my mind, yet I’m strangely calm. Tyler and me, I feel we understand each other.

  As I unzip my jeans, I hear the first cords from a guitar. I’m grateful for the noise and he’s good. He keeps playing until I step back outside and then he smiles shyly and puts the guitar to one side.

  “Don’t stop. I like it.”

  He shrugs and pulls the guitar back towards his lap. I wrap my sleeping bag around me and curl up next to him. This time he sings: quietly, gently. I join in – in my head. Definitely not out loud.

  Soon I’m drifting in and out of sleep.

  “Here, lie down. You can use this,” he says, handing me a pillow.

  I don’t undress – just unwind the scarf from my neck, crawl into the sleeping bag and put my head down.

  Tyler’s move is so sudden, so unexpected. He throws off his guitar and leans over me, his hands near my throat. I’m frozen with fear.

  “You’ve got it!” he says.

  It takes me a few seconds to work out what he’s talking about. I feel the leather cord dig into the back of my neck as Tyler clasps Liam’s stone.

  I sit up and Tyler’s arm moves with me. He doesn’t release his hold on the stone. His eyes are closed and our faces are inches apart. He is so still I wonder if he is OK. Then his lips are on mine. Kissing me.

  I keep my eyes wide open, shocked by the suddenness of his move, too surprised to respond in any way. As fast as it started, it’s all over. He looks at me as if he barely recognizes me and holds up both hands in front of him. He gets to his feet and stumbles out of the caravan, mumbling an apology. I place my hand over the stone and listen to the blood pounding in my ears. I lie awake in the flickering candlelight, the feel of his mouth on mine, conscious of every sound. My sense of calm has gone now. I think about going after him – telling him it’s OK. Instead I lie awake. Minutes, maybe hours go by.

  Finally the door opens and I close my eyes. He hesitates by my bed and I hardly breathe. I think maybe I’d like him to kiss me again, but he moves away and I hear rustling as he settles into his own bed; a quick puff of breath as he blows out the candle. It’s very dark. I keep listening until his breaths lengthen and become even. Still I can’t relax. I look at my watch. Two o’clock. The wind has got up and it creates a strange moaning sound as it finds ways through nooks and crannies in the caravan. It’s an uneasy sound that holds me at the edge of sleep for too long.

  I need to get to Liam. He’s standing in the distance, holding up his stone to the sky. I’m in great danger and I’m trying to run. But my legs won’t move and Dad is there, and Tyler. I wake up with a pounding head and a racing pulse, my hand gripping the stone. At first, I’m not sure of where I am; if I’m truly awake or still half dreaming. I turn over and see Tyler sprawled over his narrow bed, his bare leg hanging off the side. Did last night happen? In the daylight, things always seem different, and it is daylight now, the sun streaming in the window.

  I wrap my scarf round my neck then check my watch, check it again and leap off my bed.

  “Tyler, wake up! Wake up!” I fight my way out of the sleeping bag and shake him. He grunts.

  “For Christ’s sake, wake up. It’s twelve o’clock. Gran was picking me up at eleven. Get up!”

  I search around for my shoes and other stuff.

  “Whassamatter?” Tyler slurs out the words in a sleep-filled way.

  “Come ON. You’ve got to get me back to Kelly’s. How long will it take?”

  He sits up, looks around and scratches his fingers through his hair.

  “Amber?” He says it almost as if he’s surprised to see me there. Maybe he is.

  “It’s TWELVE O’CLOCK.”

  “What?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head as if he’s trying to work out what’s going on.

  “We need to go. NOW. We were supposed to be back at Kelly’s by eleven.”

  Something registers in his eyes and he gets out from under a blanket, still without any real sense of urgency. He’s wearing his T-shirt and underpants and I look away and bundle my stuff into my bag as he pulls on his jeans. I know I’m blushing so I hurry out to the car and wait for Tyler.

  “Come on, come on,” I say under my breath, willing him to hurry up. He comes, half hopping, as he tries to ease up the back of his trainer. He seems to have twigged that this is urgent and he’s trying to do everything at once – unlock his door, lean over and unlock mine, turn on the engine, fasten his seat belt. I chuck my bags into the back and the car starts moving before I’m properly in. We bump over the field and stop. I run to the gate, fumble to get it open.

  I have no idea where we are in relation to Kelly’s h
ouse.

  “How long?” I ask, again.

  “Twenty minutes – maybe. Depends on the traffic.”

  “Can I use your phone?”

  “Not unless you’ve found a way of charging a phone with a candle,” he says. “I’ll sort it when we get to Kelly’s.”

  I want to scream with frustration. This is a disaster. Tyler looks terrible and his driving is more erratic than ever. I need him to go faster, but I also need him to concentrate. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even mention last night. I play and replay it in my head and get more and more confused. We race through a light as it goes red. Luckily there’s not much traffic and we arrive at Kelly’s in less than twenty minutes.

  There’s no sign of Gran anywhere. As we approach Kelly’s house, the front door opens and someone, a boy, is pushed out. I vaguely recognize him from last night. He staggers up the path and along the pavement – still drunk.

  “Idiot,” says Tyler.

  The door opens again and this time it’s Kelly’s mum with an armful of bottles, which she slams into an open dustbin. She looks up and sees Tyler.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she asks. “Did you know this was happening?” She waves her arms frantically at the front of her house then she sees me. She looks at Tyler then back at me, then back at Tyler. “Amber! I’ve had your gran here half the morning. Where’ve you been? Has she been with you, Tyler? You’d better not be…”

  “Give it a rest, Sonia,” he says.

  “Come with me,” she says pulling me by the arm. “You need to call your gran right away. She’s worried sick. I told her you’d be fine but, honestly, you should’ve let her know.”

  I start explaining about my phone but she’s not listening. She passes me the phone in the house and a piece of paper with two numbers scrawled on it. I recognize Gran’s writing. Ring! she says.

  I dial the home number and wait. There’s no answer. I try Gran’s mobile. It rings and rings.

  “KELLY!” Sonia shrieks, “Get off your lazy backside and help me clear up this mess.”

  I hadn’t even noticed Kelly, spread over the couch, looking like death. She flicks a V-sign at her mum and makes no effort to move.

  There’s still no answer.

  “Well?” says Kelly’s mum.

  “She’s not picking up,” I say.

  Sonia pauses for a minute and presses her fingers to her temples. “I’d better take you home.”

  “I’ll take her,” says Tyler.

  “You will not. You can stay here and kick Kelly into action. I’ve had enough of cleaning up this disgusting mess.”

  Kelly puts a cushion over her face and holds it there. The whole place is trashed. I feel sorry for Sonia.

  “Give me a few minutes to tidy myself up a bit,” she says.

  Tyler seems uncomfortable anywhere near me and he disappears into the kitchen. Do I follow him? I feel like I’ve done something wrong. Was it last night? Or is it just his own guilt for oversleeping and not getting me back here on time? I sit down and close my eyes. Why can’t life be simple for once? I try talking to Kelly but she barely manages a grunt. I have a quick look around for my phone but I know it’s a waste of time. Still, it gives me something to do.

  Sonia reappears with a clean shirt on and her hair brushed.

  “I want all this sorted by the time I get back,” she says, aiming her words in Kelly’s direction. She may as well be talking to a brick wall. She pats her pockets and searches around for her keys.

  On the way home, Sonia doesn’t say much. She asks me a bit about running and stuff. I’m grateful to her for taking me home and I answer politely, but as we get closer and closer to Gran’s, I feel worse and worse. I’ve really messed up this time.

  “I hope Tyler looked after you all right?” Sonia says. She’s looking sideways at me.

  “Yeah, he did.”

  “He’s a good kid. Honestly, though, I suggest you stay away from Tyler and my Kelly.”

  I glance at Sonia. This is Kelly’s mum, Tyler’s stepmum. What kind of a mum warns you to stay away from her own kids? Though seeing her house this morning, perhaps I don’t blame her.

  It’s hard to get Tyler out of my head. I didn’t even say goodbye to him. I play over each incident. The party, the cemetery, the caravan, the way he grabbed Liam’s stone. The way he kissed me. Would I care if I didn’t see him again? I register a small twinge somewhere deep inside me. I squeeze my eyes shut against it, but it won’t go away.

  We pull up outside Gran’s and I ask Sonia if she’d like a cup of tea or anything.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll be on my way. I’m not exactly flavour-of-the-month with your Gran as it is and I’m not sure you will be either. I’ll leave you to it.” She smiles a weary smile and gives a hopeless shrug.

  I turn towards Gran’s door and take a deep breath.

  I knock and wait. Knock again, louder. I want to get this over and done with. There’s no answer, which is odd as the car is in the driveway. I open the letterbox and shout. Maybe she’s locked me out on purpose. I scan up and down the street in case she’s gone out to the shop or something, but there’s no sign of her. I’m not sure what to do, so I walk back down the path towards the road. There’s frantic rapping on a window somewhere behind me. I turn around, trying to locate the sound. More rapping and I see the face of Gran’s neighbour, Mrs Smalley, in the upstairs of the next door house. She’s scrabbling to get the window open.

  “Wait, wait!” Her shouts are muffled. Finally the window flies open. “Just a minute, I’m coming down,” she says, breathless.

  I walk round to her door and wait until she gets there. “Come in,” she says, making frantic little hand signals as if she’s trying to waft me in through her front door.

  “I’m looking for Gran,” I say. “Have you seen her?”

  “Yes. Come on in and I’ll explain.”

  There’s an awkwardness to her that makes me suspicious and I immediately think something must have happened with Mum. But then why is Gran’s car here?

  Mrs Smalley shepherds me into her living room.

  “Now sit down, dear. And don’t get too worried.”

  That sends me into a complete panic.

  “What’s happened?” I want to press Mrs Smalley’s “on” button or shake her to get her to start speaking.

  “I’m afraid your gran’s had a nasty turn. Worse than normal. They’ve taken her in an ambulance.”

  I stare at Mrs Smalley as she rubs her hands up and down her skirt. It takes me a while to even speak. “What kind of nasty turn? When? How long ago?”

  “About an hour ago now. It’s lucky I was here. She was on her way to her door and then over she went, just like that.” She makes a dropping motion with her hand and arm.

  I actually feel the blood draining from my face. Everything heading downwards and downwards and making me dizzy and faint.

  “She’ll be all right, she’s in good hands now.” Mrs Smalley’s voice is a low hum in the background. “Now you sit there and I’ll make us a cup of tea.” She heads for her kitchen and the comfort of the kettle. I try to place the pieces in the right order. Gran coming to pick me up. Me not being there. Gran getting in a state. Waiting. Finding her pills. Coming home. Me missing. Too much. Too much for her heart. I’m scared now. Scared for Gran and scared for me. What about Mum and Dad. Do they know? I’ve been here before. This is all too familiar.

  “Could I use your phone?” I ask, standing in the door Mrs Smalley’s kitchen and raising my voice over noise of the kettle. “I need to call my parents.”

  “Of course, of course. It’s just there. On the side. Can you see it?”

  My hands are shaky as I dial Dad’s number. He answers.

  “Amber? Where the hell have you been? We’ve been trying to call you.”

  “D
ad. Wait. Have you heard about Gran?”

  “Yes, of course we have! Why else would be on our way to the hospital?”

  “Is she all right?”

  Mum’s voice comes on the line. “She’s in intensive care. That’s all we know. What have you been doing? You weren’t answering your phone. You were supposed to start your shift at the café at twelve. Even Simon didn’t know where you were.”

  I can’t think what to say.

  “Amber?”

  I hear Dad’s voice in the background mumbling about having to talk about this later.

  “We’re at the hospital,” says Mum. “You’re to go straight home.”

  “I want to come to the hospital.”

  “No. It’s better you wait.”

  Better for who? I need to see Gran. I need to explain. I have to know she’s all right. I have to be there. This time I will not be too late.

  “Mum. Wait.”

  “We’ll call you as soon as we know anything.”

  “You’ll have to ring me on the home phone. My phone … it isn’t working.”

  “We know.”

  “Tell Gran I love her…”

  Mum’s voice crackles out some words and contact is lost. Mrs Smalley comes past me with a tray and I follow her into the sitting room. My hand is so unsteady, I can hardly lift the cup without spilling the hot tea. Why did I lie about my phone? There was no time for explanations. That’s why.

  “Any news?” she asks.

  “She’s in intensive care.” My voice is very small.

  “I’m sure they’ll have her back on her feet in no time.” Mrs Smalley pats me on the arm.

  I want to tell her no one got back on their feet last time this happened. Liam died – like Gran is going to die. Because of me.

  I try to drink my tea but all I want to do is to get home in case Mum and Dad call. I’ve got no money for the bus, so I’ll have to walk. I put down my cup on Mrs Smalley’s neat little tray and thank her. She shuffles to the door behind me, rabbiting on about her thoughts being with the family. I say goodbye and start to walk.