Bringing the Summer

by Julia Green

  ‘You’re too young to go to a pub for a drink. You don’t want to see a film. What do you want?’ Theo says.

  ‘I want you to stop being so mean! None of that is my fault. Why don’t we just walk round town and find a café that’s open? We could get something to eat.’

  ‘Fine.’ He turns his collar up as we go out into the cold, pulls his scarf round more tightly. He links arms with me. Gradually, he relaxes a bit.

  But I’m still so tense. It’s all going wrong. I feel stupid and too young. Not clever or entertaining enough.

  We walk up through the centre of town towards the park. The huge trees at one end are lit up with the glow from the lights in a big marquee.

  ‘Hey, the outdoor ice rink’s back!’ I say. ‘Like last year. We could go skating!’

  Theo shrugs.

  ‘Please? Be a bit enthusiastic.’

  We queue up to pay for the next slot. There’s a bar; Theo gets a bottle of cider while we wait for our turn.

  Music blares out from the speakers in the middle, and the machines that pump cold air over the fake ice hum loudly too, so we have to shout to talk at all. In the end we give up and we simply skate together, arm in arm, like I did with Miranda that time. I show him the steps I know, and how to go backwards, and then we just join in with all the other people going round and round, skates finding the grooves made by everyone else, all flowing in the same direction, a current of people joined together by movement. It’s like swimming, almost, graceful and effortless.

  ‘That was surprisingly fun!’ Theo says as we step off the ice at the end of our turn. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright.

  I’m giddy with it all: the movement, the lights and music, the crowds, the rush of happiness as he gives me a hug.

  We walk back through the park the long way, under the avenue of cherry trees and across the frosty grass in darkness. Away from the marquee, the park is almost silent. We hold hands. We run, and slide on the grass and laugh when Theo skids right over, and pulls me with him. My boots are covered in mud by the time we get to the path. We walk down through the town, back to where Theo’s parked the van.

  ‘I’ll take you home,’ Theo says.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘It’s not far to walk.’

  ‘But not on your own, not in the dark this late.’

  ‘It’s not that late!’

  ‘What’s the matter? Don’t you want me to see where you live? Or is it because of your parents? They won’t approve?’

  I laugh, embarrassed. I’m not about to explain that they don’t know anything about him yet; that I’ve never mentioned him once. And of course they wouldn’t approve of him! Or of me, going out with someone who’s twenty-one. Who smokes and drinks. Who has a scary fascination with a dead girl.

  We scrape the ice off the van windscreen. Theo unlocks the door for me to get in. Sitting high up on the front seat reminds me of the time Maddie picked up me and Gabes after the bike accident, but I don’t tell Theo that, either.

  He starts up the engine. It takes lots of revs to get going. ‘It’s got cold,’ Theo says. He pulls out of the space. ‘Now, which direction?’

  He drives quite slowly and carefully, not at all like I expected. He stops at the top of my road for me to get out. ‘There. Now no one need know who you’ve been with all evening.’

  ‘Theo! Don’t say that!’ I kiss him goodbye. His mouth is soft, delicious. He tastes of apples.

  ‘I’ll be busy for the next few days,’ Theo says. ‘But I’ll see you on Christmas Day. No need to bring presents or anything. Family rule, for house guests. Mum said to tell you that.’

  ‘Don’t you have presents?’

  ‘Only from Mum and Dad. There’s too many of us.’

  ‘Who else will be there?’

  ‘All of us – Mum, Dad, Laura and Tom; Beth and the babies and Will; Gabes, Kit, me, you, Kit’s friend Liu because she can’t go home to her parents this year; two aunties and uncles and my cousins . . . I think that’s everyone, though knowing Mum she’ll pick up a few extras between now and Christmas Day.’

  I watch the van as Theo drives away. He just takes it for granted that he has this big busy family, loads of friends. He doesn’t know how lucky he is.

  Back home, I wonder briefly whether Bridie ever spent Christmas at Home Farm, and whether Theo will be thinking about her this Christmas. I remember what Gabes said about Maddie collecting waifs and strays.

  Later, lying in bed, I have a horrible thought. Am I one of them? Does she think of me like that, too? Do they all?

  Twenty-one

  College finishes at midday on the Friday before Christmas. At break, I finally pluck up courage and text Gabes. I’ve thought about it loads; made my decision last night in bed.

  Can we meet somewhere? I’d really like to talk. Please? Freya.

  He texts back straight away. Coffee at the Jazz café at 1? GX

  The kiss gives me hope. Not for a real kiss, I don’t mean. Just that things can be OK between us. For some silly reason I’ve got dressed up specially: dress, leggings, boots. Maybe because it makes me feel more confident or something. But I get there too early, so I still end up nervous, waiting for him to show.

  Everyone else will be at the Boston, celebrating the end of term. I’m glad Gabes chose this place instead. It’s warm and steamy, smells of bacon breakfasts. It reminds me a bit of the café in Exeter, where I first saw Gabes and his family, before I knew anything about them, except that it’s not as busy. There are loads of free tables. I sit down at one near the big plate-glass window and order a coffee.

  I watch him cross the road and walk into the café, bang on one o’clock.

  He smiles as he comes over. ‘Cappuccino?’

  ‘I’ve already ordered,’ I say. ‘But thanks.’

  He sits down opposite me, chucks his bag on to the wooden floor. ‘Well?’

  I blurt it all out in a rush. ‘I couldn’t just turn up at Home Farm without talking to you first. I’m sorry I rushed off last time. I feel really bad about everything. Not being straight with you about seeing Theo. All that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I mean, if you were hurt. Perhaps you weren’t. But anyway.’

  He reaches out and touches my hand. ‘It’s OK, Freya,’ he says. ‘Calm down.’

  I go hot. Why do I find it so difficult to talk about these things?

  He’s still smiling. I notice all over again how good-looking he is, how clear and direct and sunny.

  I have another go. ‘And the thing is, well, I’m not trying to make an excuse or anything, but we’ve only ever been friends, haven’t we?’

  He frowns slightly. ‘Only? Isn’t friendship important, Freya?’

  I go hot again. ‘Yes! Of course it is. What I mean is, well, we weren’t going out together or anything, were we? Like, girlfriend and boyfriend.’ The words sound ridiculous now I say them. ‘I never really knew what you thought of me.’

  Gabes looks surprised. ‘Isn’t it obvious I like you? Why would I hang out with you, otherwise? And I don’t know why it didn’t become more than friends. I guess that extra spark just didn’t happen, did it? You can’t force it. And that was fine by me.’

  It’s hard, hearing him say that about the extra spark. But we didn’t give it a chance, did we? I didn’t, I suppose I mean. First his broken foot, and then Theo turning up . . .

  Gabes is still talking. ‘What I didn’t like was the way Theo behaved. Moving in on you like he did. Like, wanting you almost because you were my friend. And knowing what I do about him, I was worried for you, too. Especially when you started being so secretive.’

  It’s hard to keep looking at him.

  Gabes pushes his chair back a bit. ‘So, it was Theo I was angry with, really; not you. But that’s all over with. There’s no point hanging on to that stuff. He’s my brother. I should know him well enough by now!’

  ‘He’s very different from you,’ I say. ‘You’re not like brothers at all.’

  Gabes
doesn’t say anything for a while. We sip our coffees. I stare out of the window. It’s beginning to rain.

  ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t more open and honest,’ I say. ‘I still feel bad about that.’

  Gabes shrugs. ‘It’s OK. Really. Anyway, you and I will stay friends longer than Theo and you do.’

  That shocks me. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘He gets obsessed with things, ideas, people. Then it burns out. He finds someone – something – else. That’s how he is.’

  I think about that. Oddly, it doesn’t really upset me. Deep down, I know what Gabes has said is probably true.

  ‘He seems so troubled,’ I say. ‘He’s still very upset about Bridie. I thought I might be able to help him. Because of what I went through, when Joe died.’

  Gabes sighs. ‘Well, you can try. He needs to help himself, really. But maybe you can make a difference. It’s nice, I guess, that you want to.’

  We’re both quiet. We finish our coffees.

  I start talking again. The thoughts have been whirling round my head for so long that it’s a relief to get them out. ‘I had this idea, that perhaps if I went with Theo to a special place that had meant something to Bridie, I could help him say goodbye to her,’ I say. ‘To help him heal.’

  He looks doubtful. ‘Maybe,’ he says. ‘But you should be careful how much time you spend with him. Think about what you need, too. Don’t get dragged under by Theo’s problems. You have to do what’s right for you, first.’

  He glances at his watch.

  ‘Do you need to go?’ I ask.

  ‘In a minute. I’m glad we met up and talked. And it will be good, you coming for Christmas Day.’

  ‘Are you sure? Even with Theo there too?’

  ‘Sure. We’re still friends, remember?’ He stands up, picks up his bag. I get up too. He puts his arms round me and hugs me. ‘Don’t worry about things so much, Freya!’

  I hug him back. For some reason, him being so kind makes me want to cry.

  ‘See you Christmas Day, then!’ He hugs me one more time.

  He picks up his bag and leaves. I watch him go. I don’t feel like I expected to at all. I’m more sad than relieved. Still, Gabes is right. It’s good that we met up. I did well to make it happen.

  I’ve got to be more like Gabes. Put things behind me. Stop dwelling on everything. Look forward, instead.

  Twenty-two

  Dad slows down and stops the car at the top of the drive. ‘I’ll just come in and wish them all Happy Christmas,’ he says. ‘I won’t hang around long, don’t worry.’

  ‘No, Dad. Please? They’ll be really busy. There are loads of people coming.’ I lean over and kiss his cheek. ‘Thanks for the lift. Have a lovely time with Mum.’ I open the car door before he can say anything else, climb out and wave, but don’t look back.

  The air smells of wood smoke. It’s frosty again today, and the ground is still frozen solid at midday. A pale sun shines weakly through the copse of trees above the house. I walk slowly down the slippery drive into the courtyard, take a deep breath, and walk round to the real front door, rather than the usual back way into the kitchen. I ring the old bell; wait, heart beating fast. I’m excited and nervous at the same time. Someone’s tied a big bunch of larch and holly and ivy to the door knocker with a strip of gold ribbon: I imagine Maddie picking the green sprigs from her wild garden. I know everything will be like this: home-made, and perfect.

  The door opens. ‘Freya! Welcome! Happy Christmas.’ Nick steps forward to hug me. He feels warm and solid, more substantial than my own father. ‘Freya’s here!’ he calls.

  Theo’s hovering at the bottom of the stairs behind his dad, but it’s Gabes who steps forward and hugs me. ‘Hi, come on in.’ Gabes hangs my coat up for me. The three of us go into the sitting room. I glance at Theo. He seems OK.

  ‘Oh wow! It looks amazing!’

  It’s exactly how I imagined it. On every shelf there are vases and jugs filled with branches of yew and holly and fronds of some other evergreen tree with tiny sweet-smelling white flowers. Christmas cards hang on strips of red ribbon along the walls; white lights drape artistically along the mantelpiece above the big fireplace in the sitting room; candles in star-shaped holders glint and flicker from the dark corners. Next to the window a real Christmas tree as tall as the ceiling shines with gold fairy lights and glass baubles. The dark green branches are hung with wooden angels and soft fabric birds and all kinds of weird and wonderful decorations.

  ‘See this?’ I made it at primary school!’ Theo points to a miniature stained-glass window dangling on a low branch. ‘And Gabes painted these when he was about seven.’ He touches a string of funny technicoloured kings on camels and laughs. ‘You can see what a brilliant artist he was already.’

  ‘Freya!’ Maddie comes hurrying downstairs and into the sitting room. She’s wearing a dark red velvet dress, her hair tied up with gold ribbon. She smiles at me. ‘Lovely to see you. Happy Christmas, darling!’ She hugs me tight. ‘You look gorgeous. Did your dad bring you? Is he still here?’

  ‘He dropped me at the top of the drive,’ I say quickly. ‘He and Mum are going out for the afternoon.’ I don’t want to think about them now, just the two of them doing their own thing: a long country walk and a candlelit supper together.

  ‘Oh well,’ Maddie says. ‘We’re very grateful to your parents, lending you to us for the day!’

  Theo makes a face behind her and Gabes laughs. Apart from that, they seem to be on their best behaviour. They are both delightful: funny, attentive.

  ‘Time to lay the table,’ Theo says, and I follow him into the kitchen.

  Beth’s face is red from checking the roast potatoes in the hot oven. ‘Welcome, Freya! Happy Christmas!’

  ‘It smells fantastic!’ I say. ‘Shall I do something?’

  ‘No need,’ Beth says. ‘All under control, more or less. Theo, get Freya something to drink. Have you met the cousins yet?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Gabes, why don’t you take Freya and introduce her to everyone before we sit down for dinner?’

  Theo grins at me as I follow Gabes back out of the kitchen. I smile back. I start to relax about the three of us: Gabes, Theo and me.

  I meet his aunties, Kate and Hannah, and their husbands, Tim and Simon, and the cousins – eleven-year-old Ellie, and Charlie, who is just a bit older than Beth’s twins.

  We find Kit upstairs in his room, listening to music with his friend Liu, a girl from his school with beautiful straight black hair and brown eyes. She shakes hands with me as if I am a grown-up.

  Gabes stops halfway along the landing, when we’re alone again. ‘Theo’s already had too much to drink,’ he says.

  ‘He seemed fine downstairs just now.’

  ‘Just don’t take him too seriously, OK? If he starts talking too much. He sometimes says stuff.’

  ‘What sort of stuff?’

  ‘You know; he gets gloomy. But don’t let it get to you. Better to stay with everyone, you know, together? To help jolly him along.’

  I shrug. ‘OK.’

  Later, I watch Theo as he arranges the crackers and napkins and lays out the cutlery. He looks perfectly fine and normal. A bit flushed, perhaps. When I look more closely, I see his eyes are extra bright, sort of glittery. Maybe Gabes is right after all. But then it’s time for everyone to gather for the big dinner, and I stop thinking about it.

  We’ve got place names to show us where to sit. Beth has put me between Phoebe, in her high chair, and Gabes, so I can help Phoebe with her food. It’s nice to feel useful. Theo is opposite. There are so many of us that it’s impossible to have one big conversation. We pull the crackers, put on the paper crowns and read out the jokes, everyone taking turns.

  Nick stands up. ‘Here’s to health and happiness, to family and friendship!’

  We clink glasses for the toast. It goes quiet for a minute when we all begin eating, and then the talking starts up again. Tom, Laura’s boyfri
end, tops up the glasses with champagne. I take a tiny sip.

  I’m so happy: being surrounded by people, by a proper family, who don’t even once make me feel left out or as if I don’t really belong. I notice the way Maddie and Nick make such efforts to talk to Liu, even though she’s so shy and quiet. Laura helps Beth feed Erin, and Kit entertains little Charlie when he’s had enough of sitting still. Gabes makes a whole family of paper frogs for the little ones. It’s noisy and messy and fun, even when Theo starts arguing with Nick and Tom.

  ‘Stop it, all of you!’ Maddie says. ‘Not at the table, not at Christmas.’ She turns back to say something to Liu.

  It’s dark outside, now. We’ve done the clearing up, and had coffee, played silly family games (charades; Articulate, in teams; a slightly drunken version of hunt the thimble, with a champagne cork instead of a thimble).

  ‘We play the same games each year.’ Theo rolls his eyes.

  ‘I don’t mind. I think it’s lovely, having family traditions.’

  ‘Who’s up for Murder in the Dark, next?’ Kit says.

  Maddie groans. ‘No way am I crawling around in the dark at this stage of the evening!’

  Nick laughs. ‘Why don’t all you kids play, while we watch a film?’

  Kit and Gabes hunt for paper and pens and then make a big performance of drawing the letters on scraps of paper that are all exactly the same size, so no one can guess who the Murderer is. Kit tries to explain the rules to Liu, but she still doesn’t understand.

  I’ve played this game before, but not for a while. My heart starts thumping as soon as I start unfolding my bit of paper. It’s like being little again. But I haven’t picked one of the special ones: there’s just an O written in Kit’s spidery writing in the middle.

  We troop upstairs on the landing to the carpeted area between the two halves of the old house, where there are two sofas and a chair. Theo turns off the lights.

  Gabes runs back to turn off the downstairs ones too.

  ‘It’s too dark now! I can’t see anything!’ Liu says.