Bringing the Summer

by Julia Green

  I sigh. ‘I ought to phone Dad for a lift, before the snow gets too thick.’

  ‘Why don’t you stay?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Not after last night. You frightened me.’

  ‘I promise I won’t go off again,’ Theo says. ‘We’ll have a good time. Really. I’d been drinking all day . . . too much, that’s all it was. Sorry. I won’t have any today.’

  He seems so ordinary and sensible now that I start wondering what was real and what wasn’t. That stuff about voices, the railway . . . did I imagine all that? Did I dream it?

  I stare out of the window. The snow’s falling fast, big soft feathery flakes. While I’m watching, the back door opens downstairs and Beth, Laura, Kit, Liu and Ellie spill out into the yard. They run in circles round the yard, and disappear through the gap in the wall into the garden. Their dark footprints are already filling up again with snow. I lean forward to open the window a little; icy air rushes in and with it, the sound of laughter, shrieking.

  ‘Are you mad?’ Theo says. ‘It’s freezing!’ He pulls it shut again, sends a little pile of powdery snow over the ledge.

  I laugh. ‘I wanted to hear the snow. You know, that special soft sound it makes as it falls? Come on, let’s get dressed and go outside with the others.’

  It’s funny the way snow transforms everything. Not just outside, where everything is cleaned and purified, all the dirt and muddle smoothed under a blanket of white, but people, too, are different. Even the adults.

  Maddie’s pulling on her boots and coat when we reach the kitchen. ‘Have some breakfast,’ she says. ‘Then come on out.’

  But we’re too excited to stop for breakfast. Theo finds me some spare wellies and an old waxed jacket and we run out into the yard. Nick and Gabes are searching for some old plastic sledges in the barn. It’s not deep enough yet for sledging, but it might be if the snow keeps going. The sky is so completely white, the air so still and cold, it really might.

  We follow the prints round the side of the house to the orchard and the garden. The grass is already covered, except where people have scooped and rolled the snow to make snowmen. But they are not your average sort of snowmen with a small round head on a big round body; these are works of art, snow sculptures: a woman and a baby, no, two babies . . . and Kit’s making a boy, and before long, with everyone working together, there’ll be a whole snow family . . . Except that Gabes throws a snowball that hits Kit, and then another at Theo, and a big snowball fight breaks out instead.

  I join in. I’m an expert, from years of experience with my brother.

  ‘Ouch!’ The bitter cold of wet snow down my neck makes me yell out.

  Theo brushes the snow off, and kisses my neck to warm it up, but it tickles and makes me laugh. I run off again, and he chases after. Kit rugby-tackles me and brings me down in the snow. I’m a sprawling, laughing wreck, wet through.

  I follow Maddie back in for coffee and toast.

  In the warm kitchen Will, Beth’s husband, is buttoning Phoebe and Erin into their winter coats, ready to take them into snow for their first time ever.

  Beth hovers, anxious. She smiles at me. ‘Your cheeks, Freya! Bright pink! Is it very cold?’

  ‘Yes, but very fun too!’ I say. ‘I’m going out again as soon as I’ve phoned Dad and had some breakfast.’

  ‘Come and help with the twins, if you want. We’re going to the field the other side of the lane, where there’s a gentle slope,’ Will says, ‘to try sledging.’

  I’m shy with Will: I don’t really know him yet, just the things I’ve heard from Beth, and it’s awkward, knowing that he’s made Beth unhappy. Right now, though, he seems nice.

  Theo helps me pull off my boots. My toes are numb. Maddie pours the coffee. Everything is exactly as it should be.

  ‘Can you stay a bit longer?’ Maddie asks me, when she sees me getting my phone out. ‘One of us can take you home later, to save your parents coming out in the snow.’

  ‘Thanks. I’d like that.’

  I go into the hall so I can talk more easily. Through the sitting-room doorway I can see Ellie with the kittens. She waves at me.

  The phone rings for ages. Dad picks up eventually. ‘Freya darling!’ he says. ‘Are you ready to come home? Have you had a good time?’

  ‘I’m going to stay today, if that’s OK by you. Maddie says they’ll bring me home this evening. We’re going sledging in a minute.’

  ‘You must have more snow out there than we do. Here, it’s just a light dusting,’ Dad says. Mum calls out something. ‘Hang on, your mother wants to wish you Happy Boxing Day!’

  ‘Glad you’ve been having a good time, darling,’ she says. Her voice sounds breathy, different to usual. ‘We have too. A lovely long walk and a very romantic evening!’

  ‘Well, that’s good. You can tell me more when I see you later,’ I say. ‘Bye, Mum.’

  Romantic? I can guess what that means. I needn’t have felt guilty about not being with them for Christmas. It’s obviously better that I wasn’t there, that it was just the two of them . . .

  But there’s too much going on to be sad right now. Breakfast, and then sledging, for the whole afternoon.

  I go back into the warm kitchen.

  Theo keeps his promise. He’s not moody, he doesn’t drink, he doesn’t go rushing off, or wind anyone up too much. Gabes is nice too. It’s much easier being around them both with so many other people there. We join everyone in the sloping field above the stream, and take turns on the three sledges. At about three, before it starts getting dark, the grown-ups go off for a long walk, all except Nick, who’s been called out to a farm in the next valley. Beth and Will take the twins back to the house to warm up, and Tom and Laura go with them, so it’s just Theo, Gabes, Kit, Liu, Ellie and me left.

  We trudge up the hill to a steeper slope, where the snow is still untouched, thick and deep and soft. It’s stopped actually snowing, now; for a brief half-hour the sun comes out: a pale winter sun so low in the sky it throws pink shadows over the snow-covered fields, and then the pink turns to purple and blue. By four, it’s almost dark.

  We go down the slope in pairs on the sledges, shooting down the iced runs we’ve made over the afternoon. One girl and one boy on each sledge: I’m with Theo, and Kit with Liu, and Gabes takes Ellie. I go at the front, legs crunched up, with Theo behind, his legs stretched out either side of me, his arms tight round my waist. My ears are numb with cold; the air whizzes over my face, stinging it, as we go faster and faster. I can’t stop myself squealing each time – Ellie and Liu are just the same – but the boys are silent and competitive: who can be fastest, stay on longest.

  There’s a magical moment each time we go down, when the sledge seems to fly over the snow, and the air rushes past; something to do with the cold, the silence that folds over the landscape, and just the whoosh of movement. I close my eyes and I could be anywhere, any time. It’s even more spellbinding as the light fades and the first stars appear. The moon comes up, and the whole world turns silver. It’s almost too beautiful to leave behind.

  But we do. We’re exhausted, and wet, and frozen to the core. My face is raw with cold. Silent now, we walk back through the fields, through the dark that isn’t properly dark because of the moonlit snow.

  Whatever happens, I think, I will remember this perfect afternoon for ever.

  Twenty-four

  Maddie takes me home in the evening. She doesn’t invite Theo to come too, or let him drive me. ‘The roads will be icy,’ she tells him when he objects. ‘You’ve no experience with driving in snow. And I’m not taking any risks with Freya’s safety.’ Her voice sounds sharp.

  She drives the van very slowly along the lane: someone’s been along with a tractor, clearing a track, but even so, it’s slippery. She has to concentrate, so we don’t talk until she’s turned on to the main road, nearer town. There’s much less snow here.

  ‘How did you think Theo was?’ she says, out of the blue. ‘Be truthful, Freya.’ />
  I turn to look at her. She isn’t smiling or anything.

  ‘Beth told me about him disappearing off last night. I didn’t realise at the time,’ Maddie says. ‘I’m sorry you were anxious about him.’

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to betray Theo, but maybe . . . maybe his mum should know what he was like.

  ‘I think he had too much to drink,’ I say, tentatively.

  ‘Yes. And did he talk to you? When he came back?’

  ‘He was very tired. He’d been walking, in the cold . . .’

  ‘Did he tell you where he went?’

  I’m cold. A bit shaky. ‘He said he went to see if the stream was frozen . . .’ I look at her face, and I know I have got to tell her everything. I owe her that. ‘And then he walked all the way to the railway line. He said it was because she told him to. That girl who died.’

  ‘Bridie.’ She says it matter-of-factly, as if she’s not surprised by any of this. ‘You know about her, of course.’

  ‘Yes.’ I wonder if she knows about me being on the train: that shocking, random event which catapulted me right into the centre of this family. But that isn’t what’s relevant right now. ‘He says he hears Bridie’s voice sometimes, telling him to do things.’

  Maddie changes gear as we come down the hill to the roundabout under the railway bridge. She waits for the queue of snow-covered cars at the junction and then joins the line of traffic into the right lane and along the bypass. The snow here has already turned to brown slush.

  ‘That’s not so good,’ Maddie says. ‘I didn’t know he was back there, again, in that state. I’m sorry to have to say this to you, Freya, about my own son. He got too involved with Bridie before she died. And she was very, very sick. Obviously, seeing what she did. It messed his head up, rather. He needs lots of help, to get over it.’

  I stare out of the window. All the magical feeling I had before is trickling away. ‘Help?’ I say, blankly.

  ‘Professional help. He was seeing a counsellor in Oxford for a while, to help him get over Bridie’s death. I’ll have to set up some more sessions for him.’ Her voice brightens up a bit. ‘Of course he needs love and friendship, too: the usual things that make a difference to all of us.’ She smiles at me. ‘You’ve been through such sad things yourself; I know you understand more than most girls your age would.’

  We stop at the traffic lights. Maddie turns to look at me. She pats my hand.

  I feel like crying, but I don’t. ‘What was wrong with Bridie, exactly?’ I ask her.

  ‘Bridie’s mother was an alcoholic. Bridie was born with something called fetal alcohol syndrome. It affects the baby’s brain, means it doesn’t develop properly. And that’s probably why she got addicted herself, later, to drink and drugs . . . which made her mental condition . . . her depression . . . much worse. That’s on top of all the early neglect Bridie suffered. Her mother couldn’t love her properly, or even do the basic care a small child needs. Bridie ended up being fostered, but that wasn’t straightforward either. We tried to help. I did, for a while.’ Maddie’s voice falters. ‘I’m afraid I failed her miserably.’

  My head’s starting to ache. I just want to get home, now.

  ‘Theo was obsessed with her. She was beautiful, in her thin scary way, I suppose. And she could be very exciting, with her sense of adventure, for someone like Theo who likes to push things to the limit, too.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

  ‘You know the way Theo wants to experience everything deeply? He can’t bear the idea of a safe life – being comfortable. Not like most of us.’

  ‘But today he was fine,’ I say. ‘So perhaps he just shouldn’t drink. Today he was normal and lovely.’

  I don’t feel good, talking about him with his mother behind his back like this. I know Theo would hate it.

  We’re crawling along the London Road, in a long slow queue of cars.

  ‘I think it’s best you understand exactly what Theo’s struggling with,’ Maddie says. ‘You’re very young, Freya, to get mixed up in these things. I’m not sure it’s what you need right now.’

  I say goodbye politely when she stops the car, and thank her for having me for Christmas, but inside I’m seething. How dare she think she knows what I need!

  I walk down our steep hill: the snow’s settled here: it’s strangely quiet with no traffic moving.

  ‘You look wiped out!’ Mum says when I finally get in and flop down at the supper table. ‘I’ll run you a bath when you’ve eaten something. You can join us for a film on the telly afterwards.’

  ‘I think I’ll just go up to bed,’ I say. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  My phone bleeps while I’m in the bath. I’ve left it in the bedroom, so can’t check who it is. Maddie’s worried face comes into my head. She was warning me, wasn’t she? Just like Gabes, and Beth, and everyone. They all think they know best.

  I dry myself on a new towel and pad along the landing to my bedroom.

  It’s a text from Miranda. At last! Heart beating fast, I open the message.

  Hi Freya! Thank u for yr card. Want 2 meet me 2morrow?

  It’s such a relief I actually start to cry.

  Yes! Where? I text back.

  Yours? 11ish? Mx

  :) F xx

  Twenty-five

  She arrives on the dot. I skip down the stairs to open the door before Mum gets there. We hug each other as if nothing has ever happened.

  Mum waves to Miranda from the kitchen. ‘Coffee, Miranda? Lovely to see you. Had a nice Christmas?’

  ‘Yes thanks!’ Miranda calls back. She looks at me. ‘Shall we take our coffees upstairs?’ she whispers. ‘Or would that be really rude?’

  ‘We can’t talk down here,’ I say. ‘And Mum won’t mind. She’s got stuff to do anyway.’

  Up in my room, sipping her mug of coffee, Miranda goes round looking at everything, the way she does. She picks up the Advent calendar from my bookshelf. ‘Wow! This is amazing!’

  ‘Danny made it.’

  ‘Danny? You didn’t tell me he was arty like that!’

  ‘I didn’t know. He’s never told me. I mean, there was no reason to . . .’

  ‘Well! Fancy that!’ Miranda grins. ‘So, what does this mean, Freya?’

  ‘Nothing! Just Danny being sweet. Dan, I should say. That’s what he calls himself now.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Miranda gives me one of her looks. ‘Anyway, before we get on to Danny, first you’ve got to tell me what happened with Gabes.’ Miranda settles down on my bed, back against the wall, just like the old days.

  I think how to begin. ‘It was difficult at first, of course. We talked in the café that time you saw us –’ I glance at her – ‘when you weren’t speaking to me. He was . . . disappointed, I think. He seemed more cross with Theo than me. It was dead embarrassing. I felt terrible, for lying to him. And then we met again to talk properly about it, and Gabes was really nice. Generous. He was lovely at Christmas. That’s where I’ve been the last two days: at Home Farm. Theo was there too. Gabes really isn’t upset or anything now. We’re still friends.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Honestly.’

  She sighs. ‘He’s not like most blokes, then.’

  ‘No. He isn’t. That’s one reason why I like him. And Theo isn’t, either. That whole family . . . I’ve never met a family like them.’

  Miranda sits forward on the bed. ‘I don’t get it, the way you are so under their spell. You’ve got your own amazing family, Freya, if only you’d wake up and see it.’ She sighs. ‘I could shake you, sometimes!’

  I look at her, surprised. I don’t answer her.

  ‘Well, I’m glad it all turned out OK in the end,’ Miranda says. ‘Maybe I was wrong about Gabes. None of it’s worth us falling out over, anyway. I’m sorry I went off on one like I did.’

  ‘I missed you loads,’ I say.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course. And I didn’t understand why you were so mad with me.
’

  Miranda bites her lip. ‘No? Couldn’t you see that you being so secretive – lying to me, even – how that would make me feel? Like, shut out. Not wanted. As if you didn’t trust me to understand.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I was too mixed up myself. I was all in a muddle. I felt bad, really. I thought you’d tell me off. I don’t know . . .’

  ‘Which is why you should have talked about it all with me, Freya. Talking about things always makes them better. Isn’t that what friends are for?’

  ‘Yes. I guess.’ We’re both quiet for a bit. Then I say, ‘So, what have you been doing?’

  Miranda shrugs. ‘Not much. Usual things. Been to the cinema a couple of times. I went to Tabby’s party on Christmas Eve.’

  ‘She didn’t invite me.’

  ‘No. Well, that was probably my fault. Sorry. I was still mad with you.’

  We’re both silent, awkward.

  ‘What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?’ Miranda says.

  ‘I’m not sure. I got invited to a party but it’s in Birmingham, and Mum and Dad will never let me go. Not that I’ve asked.’

  ‘You’ve changed,’ Miranda says. ‘You’ve got all these new friends.’

  ‘Not really,’ I say. ‘Duncan – who’s having the party – is Theo’s friend, not mine. And they are all older than me, and that’s a bit weird. And they are into drinking and smoking and being clever – the ones I’ve met, anyway. I don’t really fit in. I’m not sure I even want to go.’

  ‘So, you and Theo . . . are you actually going out together? Like, officially?’

  ‘No. Well. I mean, I like him, and he likes me, I think, but there’s lots of things that aren’t right.’

  ‘Like what?’