by Sant, Sharon
‘You’re ok now?’ I ask instead.
‘Not really,’ she says with a shaky half-laugh. I can see that she’s shivering. I’m not sure whether she’s still scared.
‘I saw you at the funeral, you know,’ she says.
‘The funeral?’
‘Yours.’
‘I know which one you mean. Why didn’t you mention it before?’
‘I didn’t know what to say about it. Does it matter?’
‘I don’t suppose so. What did you think? It must have been weird.’
‘I was scared.’
‘Of me?’
‘Of seeing you dead.’
‘But you see dead people, you said so.’
‘No,’ she corrects me, ‘I said I get a sense of where they are. I’ve never seen them lurking at the doors of the church where their funeral is before.’
‘Maybe you’re getting better at seeing us?’
‘I don’t think so. It’s something about you that’s special.’
I laugh. ‘That’s the first time anyone has ever said that without adding needs to the end of the sentence.’
She laughs too.
‘I didn’t see you at the funeral,’ I say. As soon as it comes out, I wish it hadn’t.
She’s quiet for a moment. ‘You wouldn’t, though, would you?’
She’s right. Bethany was probably more invisible than me at that funeral. At least one person noticed I was there.
We sit quietly for a while. In the distance a dog barks and the church clock strikes a half hour, though I’m not sure which half hour it is. Somehow, time gets all muddled up lately. Then I’m aware that Bethany is shivering even more than before.
‘You must be freezing.’
‘A bit,’ she says pulling herself into a hug.
I wish I could remember what being cold feels like. ‘Would it help to walk around?’
‘It might, but I don’t think my legs are working properly yet,’ she says. ‘Give me a minute.’
‘Ok.’
‘What’s it like not worrying about anyone hurting you?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know.’ I get up and scan the fields. ‘I never really thought about it.’
When I turn around she’s staring at me and she looks like she might start crying again.
‘You don’t need to be scared now,’ I say. ‘I think they’ve gone.’
‘I’m ok,’ she says. ‘I should go home.’
‘I’ll walk with you.’
She tries to smile but it only makes her frown. ‘Thanks,’ she says as she stands up. Her legs do look wobbly still, but she shoves her hands deep in her pockets and starts to make her way down the grassy slopes towards the outer fence.
We stop outside her yellow door. She’s hardly said anything as we walked back, the night air crisp and shiny around us. I think the things that happened tonight freaked her out more than she lets on.
‘I suppose you want me to stay away now,’ I say as we look up at her house from across the road. The horse comes up to the wall and nuzzles her back. I click at it encouragingly and it doesn’t back off. I think it’s getting used to me, though it seems to prefer her living scent and nudges her again. She turns and gives it an absent pat on the nose.
‘I don’t know,’ she says.
‘Shall I call for you tomorrow?’
‘I don’t know what to think, David. Maybe.’
I watch her cross the road and climb the steps to her front door. She looks back once and then goes inside.
I turn to the horse. ‘What do you think I should do?’
The horse snorts a plume of warm breath and whinnies softly, its huge brown eyes reflecting the moonlight back at me. ‘Fat lot of good you are,’ I say. It lowers its head and pushes its nose towards me, then seems to take a startled step back as it goes through my hand. ‘Yeah, I don’t blame you,’ I say as I take my hand away. ‘I’d be grossed out too.’
I take one last look at Bethany’s house. The light in one of the upstairs rooms goes on. The curtains are already drawn – pale green with tiny flowers on them – so I guess it must be her room.
‘Goodnight, Beth,’ I say, and turn to follow the lane towards home.
Mum’s talking to me. Not exactly to me, but at me. She’s talking out loud to my empty bed, but I sit in front of her and pretend that she’s really talking to me like she can see me. I promised myself I wouldn’t come back, but here I am. Being here hurts but staying away hurts just as much.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says, ‘for all the things I said to you that last night.’ She’s not crying now, but her eyes are dull and blank, like there’s nobody in there. ‘I should have come looking for you, like a good mother would.’
‘It’s not your fault, Mum,’ I say. ‘I was a total git.’
‘I should have checked where you were. When I think how much you must have suffered… I’d give my own life to spare you that.’
‘Don’t say that, Mum. Don’t ever say that.’
She pushes a sleeve up and runs a hand along her forearm. It’s scored with angry red ridges. I look closer.
‘What’s that?’ I ask.
She scratches at one of the scars, making it bleed. Then she works her way along the length of her arm, poking and dragging her nails into every one until her arm is a network of mutilated skin. She winces and whimpers with each rip but she never stops. Even though it’s tearing me up, I can’t stop watching. And I can’t shout at her to stop, though I want to, it sticks in my throat.
I run downstairs. Roger is in the kitchen getting a pizza out from the oven. He rushes it over to the work surface where he drops it and starts to cut it into slices. Two plates of salad are already waiting.
‘Get up there and stop her, you useless ballbag!’ I shout at him. He licks some sauce from his finger and goes to the bottom of the stairs.
‘Lisa… come and eat something,’ he calls.
He waits but she doesn’t reply. ‘Lisa!’ he calls again.
He trudges upstairs and I hop behind him, willing him to walk faster, ready to scream in frustration. First he goes to their bedroom and checks.
‘She’s not going to be in there you dick!’ I shout. ‘Look in my room!’
He walks along the landing. Slowly, he pushes my door open. When he sees Mum, her curly head bent over her arm, pulling furiously at the skin, he runs in. He grabs her and holds her close and tight and she starts to cry and I have to get out before I start to cry too.
Outside the night feels like a deep breath. It’s so silent and still out on the lane. I look down at the ditch. I wonder how much of my blood has washed from the earth, or how much of me is still a part of it. It looks so ordinary now, just another muddy patch at the side of any old country road. The tyre tracks and paint chips have gone. There’s not an indent, not even a raking of soil to show that I ever lay there.
The moon casts a weak light from above the latticed roof of tree branches and a movement catches my eye. The fox has returned. It must be a she because this time she has cubs with her. They’re not cute fluffy cubs like I once saw on a wildlife calendar my mum had up in the kitchen, but gangly-looking, half-grown. All three of them eye me warily. I crouch down and put out my hand for them to sniff. I wonder if I smell like death. They don’t run away but back off slowly, never taking their eyes from me until they have gone a few feet away. I move forward cautiously to try again and this time they turn tail and run. It’s a reaction, I suppose, and better than none. It means I’m still here.
I sit down on the old tree root. I don’t know what to do. I can’t go home and I can’t go to Bethany’s. Matt will probably be with Ingrid and, even if he isn’t, seeing either of them hurts too much.
That’s when I see the twin pinpricks of light moving through the dark tunnel of the lane towards me. I stand up and listen to the low throb of the engine cracking the silence of the night, and watch as the lights get bigger and bigger, halos in the crisp air. I step out onto the road a
nd wait. The car gets closer and closer. It’s moving fast, too fast for this twisty-turny lane. I wait… Then it’s almost upon me and I want to feel it hit me, I want to remember what pain feels like. I throw out my arms and invite the collision.
But it goes clean through me and roars away and I don’t feel a thing.
The star-strewn skies are framed by the black claws of the trees and I turn my face to them. Is there anybody up there or am I alone? I trudge back to my seat and bite back my tears.
Now that everything is quiet again I think about what Bethany said to me tonight. There has to be a reason why I’m still here. What if I am supposed to solve the riddle of who killed me, like Bethany said? Perhaps it’s worth a try and, even if it makes no difference, at least it’ll be something to do. But the more I think about it, the more it seems like a pointless, hopeless task. That car could belong to anyone, anywhere. Do I wander the country looking for it? And how would I know I’d got the right one? Me and my bike probably made a mess of the bodywork between us, but whoever owns the car has had plenty of time to get it fixed up. Even if I did find the driver, what could I do to them?
Maybe I’m supposed to find my dad, somehow, or maybe I have to wait for him to rescue me. But the more I think about it, the less likely that seems too. If he was meant to come and get me, surely he wouldn’t have left it this long? Perhaps I’m supposed to save my mum? The image of her digging into her arm comes back to me. She’s pretty screwed up and that useless tosser, Roger, doesn’t seem to be doing a lot to help. I think that must be it. If it is, I need Bethany more than ever; she’s the only one who can talk to my mum for me.
When the yellow door opens Bethany smiles at me. She crosses the road, hoisting her flowery rucksack onto her shoulder. She looks different this morning, like she looked different last night, but I still can’t figure out what it is. She doesn’t speak but we walk together. The sun is bright and low on the horizon and it makes me squint. When we’re out of view of her house and under the cover of the darkened lane, I turn to her.
‘Were you ok after I went?’ The cut on her cheek is still an angry red and I wish I could make it better for her.
‘Dad was asleep when I got in so I managed to sneak up past him.’
‘I didn’t mean that,’ I say.
‘You mean the school?’
I nod.
‘I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep for thinking about everything,’ she says, smiling again. I don’t know what to make of her today. ‘What did you do last night?’ she asks.
It doesn’t seem like the right time to tell her about my mum, not when she looks this happy. I shrug. ‘I just walked around.’
‘That must be pretty lonely,’ she says.
‘The nights are the worst.’
‘I know what you mean,’ she says. ‘In the day I have stuff to keep me busy, but at night, that’s when I think about my mum.’
‘Do you wish your mum had come to you instead of me?’ I ask, even though I’m scared of the answer.
‘No,’ she says. ‘That would hurt like hell.’
I think about what she’s said and I suppose it would. ‘Will being at school be a bit scary today… after last night?’ I ask.
She shakes her head. ‘Actually, it’s weird. When I had time to think about everything that had happened, I realised that it was ok. I survived that, and now it will take a whole lot more to scare me than what those losers in our year could come up with.’
‘I suppose so. Maybe I should stay close to you today, though?’ I don’t think for a minute I’d be able to do anything to protect her and she doesn’t really need it. It just feels like the right thing to do.
‘Maybe you could,’ she says.
‘Maybe I will, then,’ I say.
She turns to me with a smile. ‘Maybe I’d quite like that.’
‘Right, today we’re looking at the lifecycle of frogs and toads…. Stop talking and face forwards, Chloe…’ Mr Bauer glares across the room at Chloe Love and she fires him a look of pure hate. He turns to some illustrations on the whiteboard.
‘Bauer looks like a frog,’ I say to Bethany.
Bethany looks at me for a moment, her eyes wide in surprise. Then she pulls out her textbook and writes something. She points at it in a tiny movement. I lean over her shoulder.
This must be a lesson about his family.
‘He’ll be getting his photo album out in a minute,’ I whisper in her ear. She stifles a giggle as she scribbles something else.
As long as we don’t have to dissect his mum.
‘No, but he has his nan swimming around in a jar.’
Bethany covers her mouth and puts her head low over her book but I can see her shoulders shake slightly.
I wait for her to face Mr Bauer again. ‘Watch this,’ I tell her, and then go to the front of the class. I jump up and down behind Mr Bauer like a frog, pull my mouth wide and start to croak. Bethany does a pretty good job of holding it together, so I start to jump even higher. Then I go right up to his ear and shout ‘Ribbit!’ as loud as I can. Bethany snorts and everyone turns to look at her.
‘Everything alright, Bethany?’ Mr Bauer asks.
She pulls her face straight and nods. ‘Sorry, just something in my throat.’
‘A frog?’ I shout, ‘It must be Bauer’s nan!’
Bethany snorts again and breaks into a snigger. Mr Bauer’s eyes look as though they might fall out of his head.
‘Something you’d like to share with us?’ he asks Bethany. She shakes her head and then bends over her book.
‘Hey, Beth…’ I shout. She looks up and I put my face next to Mr Bauer’s backside and do a loud farting noise. I pretend to waft away the smell and then I fall over, clutching my chest.
Everyone looks at her as she squeals this time. She can’t even stop laughing when Mr Bauer goes up to her desk.
‘What is so funny?’
‘You, Kermit!’ I say and wait for her to laugh again. I don’t know why, but I really like it when she laughs. But Bethany doesn’t laugh this time, with Mr Bauer’s face right in front of hers looking bright red and furious. Instead, she looks behind him and at me. She looks as though she doesn’t know whether to laugh at me now or be angry.
‘I suggest,’ Mr Bauer says in a gritty voice, ‘that you go and sit by the Head’s office to wait for me.’
She stuffs her book into her rucksack and scrapes her chair away from the desk.
‘Don’t go to the Head’s office,’ I say as I follow her out. ‘Let’s bunk off.’
She looks at me and I think she’s a bit scared now. She shakes her head in a tiny movement. As soon as the door to the class swings shut she whispers. ‘You shouldn’t have done that. They’ll phone my dad.’
‘They won’t. They only phone your parents if you go to the Head’s office loads of times,’ I say as I follow her down the hallway.
‘How do you know?’
‘How do you think?’ I laugh.
She just shoots me a nervous look.
The Head’s office is in a wooden-clad room near the main entrance. Bethany flops down on a chair outside the door and drops her bag to the floor. I take the chair next to her. The corridor is deserted but I can hear the low hum of conversation in classes taking place behind the doors that line it.
‘Let’s go,’ I say. ‘Life’s too short to sit here.’
‘Mine will be even shorter when my dad gets to hear about this,’ she says in a low voice, looking at the glass doors of the entrance.
‘What’s he going to do? He might give you a hard time, but he does that anyway.’
She drags her sleeves over her hands and folds her arms. ‘I can’t,’ she says.
‘I know a way we can get out of school without anyone seeing you. It’s easy.’
‘What about afternoon register?’
‘If they ask tomorrow, just say you were in the toilet or something.’
‘It won’t work.’
‘Alright the
n, tell them you feel faint again.’
‘They’ll phone my dad to come and get me then.’
‘Seriously, just lighten up –’
‘It’s alright for you,’ she snaps, ‘nothing can hurt you now.’
I don’t know what to say to this. She looks past me down the corridor. The door to Mr Bauer’s class opens and he comes towards us. Bethany jumps up out of her seat and waits for him.
‘Would you care to explain what just happened in there?’ he says in a hard voice.
‘Sorry, Sir, I felt a bit weird.’
‘You felt weird? Does your feeling weird usually compel you to laugh like an idiot at nothing?’
‘I don’t know, Sir.’
He folds his arms and stares at her while her gaze drops to her boots. ‘You’re usually one of my best pupils,’ he says as he looks at her thoughtfully. ‘I’m surprised beyond measure at that outburst. Do you want me to get your parents in?’
‘My dad, you mean,’ Bethany replies looking up at him and for a moment she looks really pissed off. But then her expression goes blank again.
‘Yes, I meant your father,’ Mr Bauer says quickly. ‘I’m going to give you another chance, Bethany, but one more toe out of line and it will be straight back here.’ He turns to leave. ‘You can return to the class,’ he says.
She nods and gets her stuff together to follow him.
‘Can I come back in?’ I ask her.
She glances across at me as Mr Bauer goes through the classroom door. I can tell by her face that she can’t decide if it’s a good idea or not.
‘I suppose I’ll see you at dinner,’ I say and dissolve through the outside doors as I leave.
I wait for Bethany around the back of the science block. Matt and Ingrid haven’t turned up. I wonder whether they’ve packed it in and I’m not sure I like the smug feeling that the idea gives me. Bethany turns the corner, rooting in her bag as she walks towards me.
‘I wondered if you’d want to come down this alleyway after last night…’ I say.