by J. A. Baker
22
The front door is locked. Leah tries again to get her key to fit, pushing it in with sweaty trembling fingers and twisting the cold tiny piece of metal, but to no avail. Her head spins, panic gripping her. The ground is unsteady beneath her feet. Everything is coming apart, her safety net disappearing. Her life separating and unspooling. A spasm takes hold in her gut. Pulling at the handle is pointless. It’s patently obvious that Grainne has kept good her threat and changed the locks.
Leah purses her lips, leans back on the big oak door and stares down the street. No sign of Grainne or Innes. As far as Leah can recall, she has only been out of the house for ten minutes. Maybe she’s got that wrong. Perhaps it’s been longer. It probably has. How would she know? Time is a hollow meaningless construct in her crumbling world.
She turns around, tugs at the handle, pulling and twisting, giving it one more go even though she knows it’s futile. This is a pointless exercise. She is locked out. Exasperated, she throws her key into the tangle of shrubbery next to the bay window. It lands with a dull thunk in the deep undergrowth.
Damn, damn, damn!
Grainne has thrown Leah out on the street. The cold-hearted bitch has done it. The unthinkable has happened. She is homeless.
A rush of anger causes her chest to tighten and her head to ache. There are laws against this type of thing, there has to be. Leah thinks of the homeless people she passes, the ones slumped in shop doorways with their ragged sleeping bags and mangy looking dogs. The ones with skin like parchment, their bones protruding from their flesh, eyes sunk deep into their skulls; haunted and desperate, ghosts of their former selves. She is not one of them and never will be. She doesn’t deserve this. Or maybe she does. She swats such thoughts away. A hundred ideas and thoughts race around her brain. She tries to grasp at them, to catch one that will help her out of this corner she has found herself in but nothing works. Perhaps this is it. Perhaps this is the part when everything comes to a painful juddering halt.
A thick low cloud scuds past, darkening the horizon, casting a grey shroud over the landscape and chilling the air. The tip-tap of raindrops echoes around her as the impending storm gathers momentum, bouncing off the tarmac like sharpened bullets.
She is soaked through within seconds, her clothes clinging to her skin. Still fighting back tears, Leah shivers violently, huddling for cover under the small canopy over the front door, wondering where the remainder of her belongings are. She has a memory of Grainne placing them next to the wheelie bins in the back garden with the threat of them being taken away if Leah didn’t move them within the next few days. She has no idea what’s in the bags, and has no desire to find out either. If she has managed without them for the past few months then they are obviously surplus to her needs and she can live without them. Those bags however, contain evidence of her life. What if somebody finds them and decides to have a rummage? They are her personal effects and although most of them undoubtedly contain nothing of any interest, some of them may reveal things she would rather stay hidden.
She stands, waiting for the rain to ease up, holding her hands out from under the canopy and up to the sky until she is sure it has stopped, then steps out and makes her way through the small, damp alleyway to the back garden.
Halfway down she stops and takes a few deep breaths to steady herself. She isn’t, and never has been, prepared for this moment. She should have been, she knows that now, but her mind has been so fragmented, so hung up on Jacob and Chloe that she didn’t see it coming. And now she has been caught on the back foot with no contingency plan, nowhere to go. Apart from one place, that is.
She grits her teeth, pursing her lips into a tight, thin line. This has been thrust upon her, this thing she is about to do. If somebody, months from now, were to ask her why she did what she did, at least she could lay bare her problems and say, You see? This is what they reduced me to. They gave me no choice. They made me do it.
Balling her fists, she makes her way into the back garden, a long stretch of lawn surrounded by neat borders filled with low-growing flowers and shrubs. It’s typical Grainne – immaculate, tidy, perfectly manicured. On impulse, Leah strides over to one of the flower beds and tramples on the spread of small pink flowers that are just coming into bloom. Leaning down, she grabs a handful of petals and tears at them, ripping them apart with her wet fingers, enjoying the sensation of the damp silken petals as they mash together in her palm. With each consecutive trample and tear, she feels some of her dignity being restored. It’s the only bit of power she has left. She is determined to use it well.
By the time she finishes, Grainne’s perfect garden is ruined. Leah stops, catches her breath and surveys the area. Her heart begins to patter around her chest, moving up her throat as she inspects the damage. She hadn’t meant to do so much harm and destroy so many of the plants and flowers. She was upset and now look at what she has done. Once again, she has lost control without realising it. Swallowing down her fears and any thoughts she has of Grainne sending her a bill to replace her precious plants and shrubs, Leah walks over to the neat line of wheelie bins and peers behind them. Her things are still there – everything she owns slotted into black bin liners, tied up in a neat tight knot. This is the sum total of her life – her belongings, everything she owns, dumped outside with the rubbish, exposed to the elements and left to rot.
She looks at her possessions. It’s pointless grabbing them. She doesn’t have anywhere to take them. Once she has sorted out a place to live she can come back, pick up the bags. She only hopes Grainne doesn’t dispose of them. Leah takes a glance at the garden she has just decimated and feels a flutter in her chest, knowing she can kiss goodbye to everything she owns once Grainne sees this mess. Anything of any value, she’ll have to sell to pay for this damage.
Wiping her wet palms down the side of her trousers, Leah leans over the top of the bins and attempts to push her things farther back, well out of view, closer to a large bush where they will be concealed. If she can shove them into the shrubbery, perhaps Grainne won’t see anything untoward and she can come back for them another time when she’s ready.
Only one particularly bulky bag doesn’t fit. Leah leaves it alone, slumped against the wheelie bin. Placing it next to the shrubbery will make Grainne more inclined to start rummaging, giving her the chance to discover the rest of Leah’s things. Next to the bin looks less suspicious, unmoved and untouched.
She unties it and peers in, a smile spreading over her face. Inside is a pile of old clothes she no longer wears and a couple of battered handbags that have seen better days. If Grainne decides to throw this one out then so be it. It won’t be missed, and Grainne, automatically assuming that she has collected the other bags, is less likely to go searching for them.
Feeling smug, Leah makes her way back out to the front of the house and heads to the park. She can sit on a bench, give herself some time to think, to decide what she should do next. A vision of her parents’ faces flits through her head, a fleeting idea that she should pay them a visit, attempt to heal old wounds. It’s a last resort but not something she can rule out completely. Not just yet anyway. She has another idea already formulated in her head. She will see how it pans out then consider going back to her childhood home, cap in hand. But not at the moment. All in good time.
The bench is wet after the downpour but she sits down anyway, ignoring the dampness that seeps through her trousers, settling on her skin. Leah manages a weak smile despite her predicament. There is something about this bench that makes her feel tired. It has a soporific effect on her every time she visits, forcing her eyelids down, filling her limbs with lead until she can’t stop it and sleep wins over once more.
It’s windy up on the clifftop. The sun beats down, stopping the chill from setting in. Leah wipes at her neck, shields her eyes from the glare overhead and stares out to sea. The crashing waves in the distance mesmerise her, the ebb and flow of the expanse of azure water, the swell of the horizon, the way the
barely discernible flecks of white foam roll over the surface of the sea; they all keep her rooted to the spot. And yet despite this calming sight, still she feels a creeping anger deep within her veins, a white-hot fury that refuses to leave.
She peers down over the side of the cliff. The tide is out. She has no idea why they can’t just go down onto the beach with the other people. She is bored and apart from the picnic, there is absolutely nothing to do up here. Her parents harped on about having the best view in the whole of the north east but as far as she can tell, the people playing in the sand have the same view, so why stick them all up here away from the fun? They can’t even go for a paddle. Not that she would want to anyway – paddling in the sea is for kids – but it would have been nice to have the option. And what about little Lucy? Surely, she would love a dip in the sea like all the other little ones down there? None of it is fair. Her parents are the most selfish people ever.
She moves closer to the edge, peering down at the craggy boulders jutting out beneath her, imagining how long it would take to climb down to the bottom, working out whether it could be done without slipping and falling.
Behind her she hears a noise. She turns to see Ellis and Lucy playing, tumbling around like toddlers. Beyond that, her mum and dad and Johnny and Petra are setting out the food on a large blanket. Leah rolls her eyes. The whole thing is such a fucking cliché. Here they are playing at Happy Families when they all know they are anything but. Ellis only came here because he was forced to and she would rather be anywhere but in the presence of the people who call themselves her parents.
Closing her eyes, she dreams of another life, another family, another home. One where she is appreciated, surrounded by people who actually care about her, not stuck here with the Browne’s and their stupid friends high up on a cliff overlooking the freezing North Sea. She can think of a million other places she would rather be. Ellis didn’t want to come either. He was way too busy waiting for a call from Lauren Bixby. Leah smiles. She never called him back. He stands no chance with somebody like her. With her long legs and tumbling blonde hair, Lauren has the eye of every boy in school. Why does her stupid brother think a girl like that would ever be interested in him? It’s ludicrous. Ellis might be fairly nice looking but Lauren is in another league entirely.
The sounds behind her grow in volume. She turns to see Ellis scowling at Lucy. She is goading him, wanting him to continue playing with her when it’s obvious he has had enough. Leah laughs. It lifts her spirits to see him cornered by a six-year-old.
She heads over to where they stand, sees Ellis’s face grow serious as she approaches. Anger seeps into her bones like molten metal. Fury lines her stomach and scorches her innards. ‘What’s that face for?’ Her voice is sharp, accusatory.
Ellis shrugs and turns away, angering her all the more. Lucy pushes past Leah’s legs, knocking her off balance. She watches as Ellis sniggers at her stumble, a glint in his eye that infuriates her. Who the fuck does he think he is? And as for that spoilt little brat hanging around – well, she can piss off as well. Leah has had enough of all of them – the adults, Lucy, her twat of a brother – they can all take a running jump.
‘Come on, Lucy, let’s play a new game. It’s called “Annoying Leah”. All you have to do is breathe in her presence and then watch her nostrils flare and her skin turn red. It’s the easiest game ever!’ Ellis laughs and grabs Lucy’s hand.
The little girl giggles and jumps up and down. Ellis picks her up and pretends to tickle her before swinging her around. Her shrieks of delight echo around the clifftop before being swallowed up by the roar of the sea and the howl of the warm summer wind that pushes at their backs and messes with their hair. Leah stomps away from them, closer to the edge of the cliff where they can’t be heard.
Bollocks to Ellis and his stupid loutish behaviour and damn that brat of a kid as well. Neither of them knows anything about her or what it feels like to be on the periphery of life, to have no control over anything and be excluded, squeezed out of their own family. Ellis is the golden boy and Lucy is a spoilt princess who only has to snap her fingers to get whatever she wants. One bat of her eyelashes and her parents run to her like a pair of slaves, making sure her every wish is granted, her every command swiftly met.
Leah stands, listening to the screech of the seagulls, watching the crowds below, wishing she was down there, closer to the water. The gulls circle above the throngs of people, waiting, watching, diving down and coming back up with whatever they can, small scraps of leftover food clutched between their long yellowy cream beaks. A sudden gust of wind catches her unawares, making her lose her footing. She steps back from the edge, amazed at how tiny everybody looks, how insignificant they all appear to be from this height, like ants scurrying about, each of them focused on their own activities, locked into their own little worlds unaware that she is here, above them, staring down, thinking how pointless they all are. How unimportant and worthless their lives are.
‘Your turn to amuse her now, misery guts.’ Ellis is behind her. She spins around to face him. Lucy is standing next to him, looking up at his face, smiling inanely. She is so innocent, so completely unaware of anything that it almost makes Leah laugh out loud. People are idiots. Her parents, her brother. Even this blameless little girl. They know nothing about her. Nothing at all.
‘I don’t think so, Ellie boy. She’s all yours.’ Leah watches as his face clouds over, his eyes growing dark with undisguised irritation. ‘You’re the golden boy, the chosen one. Weave your magic spell and make the child dance, why don’t you?’ She can’t help herself. Her laugh scatters through the air like a shotgun, a rapid stream of noise, caustic and deprecating.
He shakes his head at her, his mouth set in a firm line. ‘Sad really. Is there any reason for you being such a bitch? Or were you just born that way?’
Leah spins around, looking for some sort of backup from her parents but the adults are all too busy sorting out picnic rugs and chairs, too busy opening bags of crisps and slicing boiled eggs, too busy pouring out tepid tea from flasks to notice what is happening.
‘Okay, Ellis, I’ll play with her. Just you watch. I’ll show you how little kids are meant to have fun.’
Her voice is sharp as granite as she grabs Lucy’s hand and drags her close to the edge of the cliff, ignoring the little girl’s resistance. ‘Come on, Lucy. Why don’t we play near the edge and pretend we can fly?’
‘No!’ Ellis shouts, leaping forward, reaching out towards them. Leah curls her lip into a sneer as Ellis tries to pull the little girl back from the precipice.
The next part is a blur as they both struggle with the girl wedged in between them although the final section of the story is now crystal clear in Leah’s mind. She has denied it for so many years now, pushed it away, refusing to acknowledge her part in Lucy’s death but it’s there, an unshakeable truth, unwavering and solid as the rotation of the earth, constant as the onset of each new season.
The struggle continues until eventually Ellis manages to move Lucy towards him away from the dangerous drop beneath. And then seeing that she has lost, that yet again, she has been humiliated, Leah sticks out her foot causing the child to stumble. All it takes to complete the process is one small secret kick, a hidden push, and Lucy’s fate is sealed.
Realising the enormity of what she has done, Leah panics, makes a snap decision and thinks up a story to exonerate herself. A twisted story that once told, can never be untold…
‘So, it was all your fault?’ Her head snaps up. She is sitting opposite Will. His face is blank. Her heart is pounding, stampeding around her chest. She is sweating yet feels so very cold. She swallows, looks around, tries to drag herself back to the present. This is the part where she feels sure she is locked away in some asylum, her mind gone, destroyed by her past, by what she did, by what she is still doing, day after day after day. This is the final part, the bit of the story where she loosens and comes apart, pieces of her falling away.
; Covering her face with both hands, she places her head in her lap and weeps.
23
Will is silent, watching Leah through narrowed eyes. He is probably trying to figure out what goes on inside the head of somebody like her. She shivers, pulls her sweater tighter around her shoulders. There’s a sudden chill in the room, a cooling of the air around them. Leah shuffles down in her seat, weary of being here in this place, weary of Will’s probing questions. Weary of life. She is running on empty. Nothing in reserve. She visualises herself as a half empty glass, slowly being drained until there is nothing left. What then? Who will step in and help her when she is a husk, a dried-up shell of a person with nothing to offer?
‘Stay with me, Leah. Try to focus on your breathing.’ Will’s voice reverberates in her head, a distant sound coming from somewhere she cannot reach. ‘Come on, Leah. Try to concentrate.’
She stares over at him, at his hazy outline. Her vision is blurred with tears, her eyes swollen and sore. Everything hurts. Her abdomen, her head, her entire body. ‘I can’t do this, Will. I just can’t. I’m too tired. Really really tired. I just want to go to sleep. Please let me shut my eyes and rest.’
Leah thinks back to that day at the beach, that argument, the moment Lucy fell. The feeling of the child’s soft skin against her leg. The look on Lucy’s face as she toppled backwards into the waiting abyss. Then Ellis’s crumpled expression as she spat out those words, those accusations that she was unable to retract. The words that sealed his fate making sure she never saw him grow up into the kind generous man he would be today. Who knew that being a liar and being so horribly and utterly deceitful would be this exhausting? It’s gruelling being dishonest. Look where it’s got her. Look at what she has become.