A Little Rain

by Dee Winter

  And, so it becomes the most precious thing that I have ever held. It feels heavy for its size. I hold it tight feeling its edges press against the folds of my skin. “Thank you. I’m going to keep it on me always. It will make me think of you, when I need to stay strong. I’m sure it’ll help. Thank you.” And I look him straight in the eye feeling nothing but pure love. I look at it closely again. There is an etching of a man riding a horse on the coin. The neatly marked border a perfect circle. Fine loops and swirls of intricate gold around the edge. A delicate diamond of perfection. This is my treasure. My medal of gold. Another prize in my parcel. I wrap the chain around it carefully and place it gently in my left jeans pocket.

  I wander into my brother’s bedroom, now my last wish is to relive the night with Etienne in my mind, if only once more and briefly. I walk in for the last time. I remember how I lay with Etienne on the bed that is now stripped to the mattress, one pillow, one blanket, and bare steel legs. The valance is gone. I want to feel his touch again. Smell the musk of his aftershave, the warmth on is skin, the oil in his hair. Touch his body again, feel it against mine. Hear his glittering words. I now long to bring a piece of him with me, take this memory away, in case I do not see him again. Maybe there is a tissue he has left behind, or a scent trace on the pillow. Anything. I sit on the edge of the bare bed, looking around, feeling like I know something is there to be found, only I can’t yet see it. Rob comes by and asks me what I’m doing. I lie, and tell him I lost an eyebrow bar ball somewhere. He goes away and I lay back and look up to the ceiling. Plain white nothing. I turn on my belly. My whole body squashed face forward on the mattress. I breathe in deep, searching for the scent of him. Only all I get is the smell of fabricky nothingness. Uncomfortable now, I slide off the bed and onto the floor. Belly down, arms by my sides. The scratch of the rough carpet feels even more uncomfortable against my face. The smell down here is unpleasant, like mud and glue. I can hear the buzz of pipes humming below the floorboards. There is nothing to see but the fray of the carpet and pieces of fluff. I turn my head to face the other way, expecting only to see the same. But I see it straight away. It curves like a little clear archway but is too close to focus on. A wavy strand of dirty blond hair. I know it is Etienne’s. It’s certainly not mine or Rob’s or Ruby’s. I quickly take it, between finger and thumb, and then hear the creak of the floorboards beneath me and see Rob’s feet, heavy in black boots, standing there.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Err...” I scrabble up to my feet, quickly tucking the hair away into my right back pocket. I brush myself down, straightening out my clothes. He’s looking at me strangely. I wonder if he can see the imprint of carpet I can still feel now pressing against my cheek, but he’s not, he’s staring at my eyebrow piercing.

  “Both balls are on there.” He says, pointing rudely. “What were you doing on the floor?”

  “Nothing!” I say, feeling like a guilty child, even though I know I’ve done nothing wrong.

  “Skit!” He calls after me, but I’m already off and out of the room, picking up my holdall on the way. But as I get to the open front door, I stop and breathe in deep. I hobble onward, still not needing crutches but feeling the starting of a pain ever so slightly. When I’m out into the front garden smiling to myself, there is no pain to feel at all.

  The day is bright and the sun shines low in the blue sky. The air is dry and cold. As I stand outside, I can smell something fiery cooking in oil from a neighbouring house and I feel the warm curry spices wafting around me. The smell of food makes me hungry. I look back at what is now the old flat, the basement of this three-storey townhouse. I look up the stone stairs, to the upper level, split vertically into the two half-house flats and see Heather is standing on the steps, facing her door, key in hand, looking like she’s going in.

  “Hello?” I say gently and she turns round to look at me and smiles warmly. I’m smiling inside as well and I don’t remember feeling like this before. Her amber eyes look so friendly. Her lion’s mane of hair is tidied away now under an orange and green head-wrap. Blue dungarees, brown jumper as standard. She reaches out an inviting arm and I feel compelled to move towards her. This is the very start of now, of my new life, and it has begun. I am happy.

  “Do you want to come in now?” She says softly and I smile broadly at her, gently nodding. My eyes focus only on hers.

  “Yes, I’m ready.”

  19

  The Haven

  Heather stands still, in front of her open door, waiting for me. “Come on up,” she says. “Let me show you the room. Come and see what you think.” Without any hesitation, I shout back towards Rob who is still inside, throwing my holdall in and through the still open front door. Without my crutches, I crawl somewhat ungainly on all fours up the stone steps, and on straightening up, limp through the now wide open blue-green wooden door, admiring the steel lion’s head knocker as I shuffle forward. At my feet I see black and white squares painted on the wooden floorboards of the hallway. The walls are olive green. To the left there is a delicate mahogany side table on four legs so skinny I’m surprised it stands up. A vintage cream coil-corded telephone stands upon it, next to a small glass bowl of lavender and rose petals. There is a painted off-white radiator to the right. I can feel its heat from the doorway. As I walk further in, the house smells heady and warm of incense, like Heather did when I first met her outside.

  To the right I see the living room through an open door but a green and white glass beaded curtain hangs across it, like from an old-fashioned betting shop, the sort I used to run through when I was about four years old. Heather holds the beads back for me and I walk through into the room. First, I notice the living breathing Jack Russell dog sitting on the moss-green sofa surrounded by cushions of so many colours and patterns, blue, pink, orange, checks, diamonds, little circular mirrors. It just sits there wagging its tail. It does not bark or move. I cannot smell it at all. I look up at the walls to see pictures of bright squares and concentric circles and prints of oriental figures in red, gold, black and white. There is a painting of the sun with a smiley face with blue and red rays. There is an acoustic guitar leaning against the wall. I see a big globe standing in the corner, like something from an antiques shop. It sits in a wooden ring supported by three sturdy legs. The sea is beige. The countries are mostly pink and green. Heather sees me staring and tells me its Georgian and about two hundred years old. I go over to this amazing object and feel humbled by it. Heather says it is worth a lot of money but to her it’s priceless, a much-loved treasure that belonged to her great grandmother. “I can see why you love it. I love it too.” I say. I have honestly never seen anything like it.

  Already, to me this place is amazing, an explosion of warmth and colour with so many strange and exciting things to see. My eyes want to feast on it all but cannot focus. They jump from place to place. It’s hard to even begin to start taking it all in. Under my feet now, I can feel soft carpeted floor. Looking down and out to the edges of the room, I can see the floor is covered by rugs so big, deeply red and boldest black with intricate beige flowers and patterns. Heather tells me they’re Persian. I keep quiet. I don’t even know where Persia is.

  “Shall I show you to your room?” She says, and I nod enthusiastically, now desperate to see, but at the same time not wanting to leave the room I am in. As we head back into the hall, and up the stairs, on the wall there is a poster print of a beautiful angel flying, with wings of blue and orange in front of a gold painted sun. Then I see another picture of a painted black cat on a block of red. Finally, when we are at the top of the stairs, a full string of coloured fairy lights are wrapped around the banister on the landing, all lit up like a Christmas tree. “Here,” says Heather and we turn right and she opens a heavy white wooden door with a dark brass handle, and I am entranced by the smell of vanilla and roses. My new room is right there in front of me and it is Love at first scent. The small white single bed looks neat and clean with a beautiful pink
and purple check patchwork quilt covering it all. I see a little cream painted wooden side table, with a stout vanilla-scented candle on a gold dish. A tall chest of six cream drawers, a small glass bowl of dried pink rose petals on top. A little wooden desk, matching stool, and mirror stand opposite the bed. An invisible wardrobe juts out slightly, built into the wall. A dream catcher the size of a dinner plate hangs above the bed with strings of white feathers and turquoise beads. Fabrics drapes are pinned to the ceiling in beautiful colours, shimmering pink, emerald green and frosted cream. On the left wall there is a painting of a sunset. The sea is blue, the sky orange, purple and yellow. There is just one other picture of three large black teardrops on a plain beige background with smaller teardrops of blue, mauve and green. I stare at it solemnly. Heather watches me. “That one is just for sometimes when you feel the need to cry.”

  I almost cannot even speak but I do. “Thank you. I love it. It’s just beautiful. All of it.”

  We head back downstairs, me sliding down on my bottom, bumping down one step at a time. “Why don’t you go and sit in the living room?” Heather says. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Ok. Yes, please, I would like tea, thank you.” I say, shuffling through the glass bead curtain that makes a noise like a waterfall as I walk through.

  “What type of tea?”

  “What type? Err. A tea-bag’s fine. PG Tips?”

  “No, I mean would you like Herbal, Green, Earl Grey or of course, if you want you can have PG Tips. We have that too. Just I wondered if you would like to try something else.”

  “Err. Ok, I’ll try Earl Grey. That sounds interesting.” As I wait while she is in the kitchen, I’m still looking everywhere at everything. I suddenly see on the top of her mantelpiece a photo. The wooden frame is brown like burnt sugar, so dark you cannot see the grain. Maybe nine inches wide. Seven inches deep. Soft, rounded edges polished like marble. Delicate diamonds of lattice on each edge. I recognise both the faces within but Heather looks different in the gloom. Her face looks shiny. She is wearing a lot of makeup, far more than I have seen before. Her hair even more messy and wild, with bright colours, pinks and green, she looks a different in the dim light. There is a boy in the picture too wearing a cap. I feel like I’ve seen him before as well. The background is dark and dingy. They’re sitting down on boxy seats. They are dressed up for a night out, bare shoulders and skin, her heavy tattoos on show. They’re in a bar, maybe it’s a club.

  Heather then comes in carrying two deep purple mugs. “Where is this?” I ask. “I think I’ve been in clubs like that, with the red and black... In fact, I think I’ve been there...” and then the air closes in around me, the bubble is burst.

  Her amber eyes widen like they’re breathing in, stretching out, then they shrink up slightly. “Don’t be alarmed. Please...” She says, shaking her head.

  They are the people I saw in the club on Friday. This is one of the photos they took.

  20

  The Beginning

  “I saw you, Friday night, in the club. I called you Alana. I thought you were her. My friend. Only when I looked closer I saw that you were too young but I wanted you to be her. I thought maybe she just hadn’t aged. You looked like she did five years ago, before she went missing. We used to go clubbing with her all the time. She used to take a lot of drugs, bad things, like cocaine, then heroin eventually. She went missing after a night out a few years ago. No trace. Presumed dead. Her family said she had gone abroad. But I don’t think she would have gone without saying goodbye. You looked so much like her. I couldn’t help but stare at you. You looked troubled too, in need of help.”

  “I could see your aura at the nightclub. You had a unique aura, like Alana did. You stood out. I remember it clearly. I understood. I saw red which tells me you are creative, seek change, and are quick tempered. Straw yellow too, meaning you are a daydreamer and charcoal grey, you feel trapped and depressed. Basically I don’t want to sound like a preacher to you now, but you needed to change. It was doing you no good at all, whatever it was you were doing. Your pupils were huge, your face sweaty. You looked like you didn’t know what planet you were on. Your jaw was grinding, your eyes all over the place. Then I saw the bruises. Those dark marks all over you. I knew someone had been hurting you. Part of your aura was black. This to me signalled abuse. You have been ill-treated in some way and when I saw the bruises on your skin, I just knew. To be honest, you looked a mess. I couldn’t save my friend but I wanted to save you. I wanted to help you. I wanted to help you change.”

  “This is just weird. Did you know I lived downstairs before you moved in?”

  “No. No, only when I saw you outside on Saturday. I was a little shocked. It really is a small world but I think maybe this is meant to be. Maybe I really can help you. I just don’t want you to be freaked out by me. I know it’s weird. Call it what you want, luck, fate, an opportunity. I think that maybe I’ve just come along at the right time, and it just so happens that I have the right place too.”

  “So I guess that explains why you were being so weird in the club. I can remember you now. You proper freaked me out. I thought it was you that was off your face. What happened to that guy you were with? Was that your boyfriend?”

  “No, that was just my friend. Steve. He’s my old flatmate. He didn’t want me bothering you. He thinks I’m crazy. I know in my heart Alana’s dead. He keeps telling me. But I will never give up hope of seeing her. I really thought for a second that you were her and when I saw that you needed saving too, I wanted to help you. Of course, Steve said I just can’t go up to someone and say I want to save them. I would sound like some sort of religious cult. But I knew I could help you. Take you away from your life. The bad things. Now I’ve been given the opportunity to. But please, I don’t want you to be afraid. I’m not the weirdo if you think I am. I can help you. I can be there for you.”

  “But where’s Steve gone? Your flat mate?”

  “He’s gone to Goa for three months. He left on Sunday. They went to the airport from here.” My memory recalls a picture in my mind of the two men on the steps with suitcases. My dripping bin bag in hand. “You will get to meet him again at some point. It’s very quiet without him here already. It will be even more so when you two below have moved tomorrow. I’m looking forward to having your company, I hope. I don’t like to be lonely. I don’t think anybody does.”

  “You’ve got the dog?” I hazard, but she laughs gently, still smiling.

  “It’s true, I do, but even Sassy doesn’t make up for human company. I would love you to live with me. Really. At least give it a trial run. Give it a month. See if you like it. Let’s see how we get on, hey? How do you feel about it now?”

  “I think it should be ok.” Inside I feel a bit like she’s opened me up with a scalpel on the operating table, exposing my insides to the whole entire world. But still, I trust her. I am still smiling. After everything I have already felt to compare this to, I feel fine. She means good. I see it. This still feels like the right thing to do.

  “There will be some house rules. I’m sure you will understand. Firstly you should know we live pretty organically here. I try not to eat too much meat. No processed foods like sausage or burgers. Only free range eggs. We grow some of our own vegetables in the garden. We didn’t think it would be fair on Sassy to be entirely vegetarian. She likes her dog food. No alcohol or drugs are allowed in the house. You can smoke in the garden, but really I would prefer it if you didn’t. You know you can smell a person who smokes in a house of non-smokers like an ashtray at your bedside. With the chores there are no hard and fast rules, I won’t be drawing up a wall chart or anything. But if you see something that’s dirty, clean it. If you want something to eat, make dinner. If the cupboards run low, go shopping. Common sense really. Rob said that you are very house proud and that you like to cook and clean. Well this will be your home too now Ella so I want you to be proud of your home. Of course I will help you. I won’t expect you to do ev
erything. I will cook and clean as well. We can go shopping together. Of course, I don’t expect you to be anything like a slave here but in return for helping out, you live rent-free. If you’re working in the pub, you can help maybe with the bills here and there when you can afford it. Like I said, get the shopping when you can. Does that sound ok?”

  “Yes. I think your offer’s too generous. I don’t deserve this.”

  “There’s one final thing you must know. I won’t stand for laziness. You will go to college, every day, unless you are sick or dead. If you’re at home and not sick, you go. If I find out you’re bunking off, I change the locks. There is no key on a string here.”

  “What?” I say, spluttering on my Earl Grey. “How do you know about the key?”

  “Come on Ella, I think the whole street knows… I’m amazed more people weren’t coming and going from your house all day long.”

  “Here...” She says passing me a small silver key on yellow plastic smiley face key chain. I feel like I’ve been handed a winning lottery ticket, and all warm and bursty inside, tingling all over, high as the sky. Who knew such a small piece of steel could make someone so happy. “Anyway, I want to you feel at home. I’m going to take Sassy out for a walk now. You can look around and get to know the place, so you feel comfortable. I’m just going to the park. I’ll be about an hour. So settle in, look round, make yourself feel at home.”