by Ruth Harrow
We must have spent a long while in the arcade because now the light has changed, coating the tall buildings of the town in a peachy hue.
I'm having such a good time that I barely notice how hungry I am until we spot a McDonald's in the high street. I get a new thrill as the three of us sit down on plastic seats with a tray of what Mum would dismiss as “empty calories”. April and I have never been allowed inside before; although my sister seems to be taking it so much in her stride, as though she has done it a thousand times before; I just hope I look as casual.
Afterwards, we pile back into the car. April excitedly unwraps the new tape and slides it into the cassette player in Will's car. Will cranks the volume up as he is driving and April laughs. She starts singing along to the words. The euphoria must be contagious because I feel like singing too.
Will catches my eye in the rearview mirror at a particularly suggestive lyric and I get a fresh jolt of butterflies, stronger than I have ever felt before.
Warm golden light fills the cabin as we zoom out of town. The sun will be setting soon. The lanes become more rural as we drive with songs of romance blazing in our ears, but I can tell we aren't gong back yet.
Will tells us we are heading for the Wrekin. 'The view up there is amazing!' he shouts over the music.
He pulls the car into a gravelly car park and retrieves a backpack from the boot. April pulls me by the hand and the three of us march up a tree-lined country track.
Will's fingers intertwine with those of April's free hand and I realise as we ascend that we form a sort of stopgap-family unit. Two parents and what looks like their little girl.
I break forcefully from April's grip and jog up ahead.
Will pulls his hand from April's too and races up the path to catch up with me. I speed up, laughing, determined to lead the way to the top.
'Hey!' April calls from behind us as our pace quickens, leaving her behind.
Will seems impeded by the backpack slung over one shoulder. It swings and hits him as he jogs. After several minutes, we are forced to slow to a breathless walk as April catches up with us. For a few moments, I pretended in my head that Will and I were alone; as though it was me he had taken on a date.
After a good while, the trees thin and I suddenly take flight again taking the other two by surprise.
The sound of heavy footsteps in my wake tells me that Will has yet again given chase.
I am breathless by the time we pass the summit of the Wrekin and I collapse panting onto the sloping grass on one side leaning back on my hands and stare at the view.
I have the feeling that I am on top of the world. The verge I am perched on is wild and unkempt; it is also steep beyond belief. One false move and I feel I could slide down and disappear forever. I lean back a little into thick grass so springy, it feels like a mattress. The ends of the blades scratch at my bare back.
From here, I can see for what feels like miles around. I've never appreciated scenery before, always left it to Mum to fawn over, but what is in front of me now looks incredible. Will was right.
The sun is beginning to set; a large red disk slipping behind the furthest of hills. Right in the distance is a deep water-filled quarry with a series of small lakes around it.
A little closer, I spot the winding bends of the river Severn that warp their way around one edge of Little Bishopsford. It is satisfying that no discernible features of the village are visible. It is like it doesn't exist. I've never wanted not to go home so much before.
I have no idea what the water normally looks like from up here, but now it is all shining mirrors reflecting the bright gold and orange of the sky.
Will slumps down next to me. Our hands almost touch on the grass. My stomach is once again alive and writhing pleasantly.
April drops herself down on Will's other side.
The three of us get our breath back, staring out at the endless vista for several minutes. A flock of birds makes its way across the horizon, nothing but tiny black silhouettes.
Then Will unzips the backpack and pulls out some cans of beer. He hands one to April, drops one on his own lap and passes me one too.
My hand reaches out automatically to accept it and I look at April hesitantly.
Her face mirrors my concern. 'I don't think she should have one, Will. If Mum finds out, I'm dead.'
'She'll be fine,' he says casually. He shrugs and takes a long glug of his own drink, his Adam's apple bobbing steadily against the taut skin of his throat.
'Just don't drink the whole thing!' April hisses at me across Will.
My fingers feel clumsy as I open the large can and awkwardly take a sip.
It is very warm from being in the car all afternoon and tastes awful. I feel my face screw up before I can stop it.
Will laughs and I see him watching me, now leaning back on his elbows. The sunset highlights the crystalline pattern in his eyes and makes his hair look darker, his skin smoother.
We drink until the sun sets completely, leaving the sky still perfectly colourful, but lacking that magnificent glow.
At some point, April rests her head on Will's chest. For several minutes at a time, they kiss, making occasional sloppy, wet sounds. Will's hands stroke April's bare arms and legs now and then too.
I try not to look, instead focussing on trying to like the taste of my drink. I can't understand why anyone would enjoy this stuff. It is bitter and fizzy. Like bad cola.
I keep tasting it, trying to understand. Then suddenly I'm aware the can feels significantly light. And so do I.
The fizz bubbling in my throat seems to spread into my scalp and the glowing sky in front of me gives a little jump. I blink forcefully and try to correct it.
I move to lean back on my hands to steady myself, but the ground isn't where it should be and I miss, landing flat on my back. Somehow I still feel a little vertical.
Grass prickles at the bare skin of my thighs and arms. It smells delicious, I think. Then I can't help but burst out laughing at the strange idea.
'Hannah – you idiot!'
April's voice sounds angry, coming from somewhere nearby. I had forgotten she was here.
Her face appears in the sky above me and she snatches the can from my loose grasp.
'I told you not to drink it all!' She tips the can upside down and a measly trickle splashes into the grass somewhere near my legs.
'Babe, chill out,' Will says. 'She'll sober up on the way back. Don't worry. I'll keep the windows open.'
Will is right, the air that rushes over me on the back seat is refreshing. I don't want to go home, but that must be where we are going. The lanes start to look vaguely familiar as we drive on.
We wind down ever smaller country tracks. Round and round. I start to wish I hadn't eaten all that greasy food earlier, or had the thick sweet milkshake. The warm beer sits on top of it all, fizzing away.
We take a sharp turn around another bend. I close my eyes, not wanting to see how the world doesn't quite right itself in time before another turn.
The cassette is playing again. But April doesn't sing this time. The lyrics seem to reach me jumbled up like I am missing every other line.
We enter the woods and the road ahead gets darker. I open my eyes in time to see what looks like a bat flap across the track ahead of us.
The lane through the woods is rough and cracked. I feel each of the bumps quake through my entire body as we pass over them. I cringe on each new jolt.
I see Will's eyes on me again in the rearview mirror. Beyond him, a shape appears in the road.
I just about catch Will's eyes widen before several things happen at once.
There is a jolt. A scream of brakes.
A loud bang.
I slide forward, unanchored in my seat and my face collides with Will's headrest.
My chin is jolted upwards and my jaws are forced shut. Pain hits me.
Then I taste the blood.
29
My own breath catches in my chest
and adrenaline spurs me into action. Somehow though, Will is pulling open our bedroom door first and is racing down the hallway ahead of me. Eva's bedroom door is wide open and a split-second glance tells us her room is empty.
She screams again, this time louder.
We hurry to the open bathroom door instead and almost collide with our daughter.
She stands white-faced, her mouth open in shock.
There is a large smearing of bright red blood all over the otherwise pristine white of the seashell sink and Eva moves aside and gestures, speechless at the bathroom floor.
Will pushes open the door further.
Dad lies prone and motionless on the linoleum, face down. There is more blood around his head.
I must be frozen in shock because again it is Will that gets there first.
He looks over his shoulder at me sternly. 'Hannah – call an ambulance!'
*
I don't know how we get to the hospital. The journey seems to pass by in a blur. Lights and images flood my mind and all I can think about is Dad.
Eva accompanies me in the back of the ambulance. I am determined to keep her close, reminded all too much of my nightmare. I never let go of her arm, despite her attempts to shrug me off.
Will follows after us in our car and the three of us sit now in the waiting room. The heat is sickening.
All the available windows are open but there is no through-draft in the old clinical building.
An elderly couple sits opposite us. The wife fans herself with a battered copy of Woman's Weekly while her husband stares at the faded ceiling tiles, red-cheeked, huffing and puffing every now and then.
The water dispenser is only half-empty but is missing anything to draw the tantalisingly chilled liquid into. Used, crumpled cups litter the floor and seats around the machine.
Will gets up every now and then and does nothing but pace the room with his hands in his pockets. I am unwillingly reminded of the teenage boy he used to be. Somehow, he has managed to avoid the weight of life on his shoulders. He was the same back then. He has always left any kind of responsibility to fall onto me instead.
The suffocating heat puts me in mind of that day in the car when our little trio went on a disastrous day out; it was the same day Paige Wakefield went missing. It was such a juncture in my life. For all of us.
That day marked the end of childhood. When it happened, I immediately knew it was the end of something. It took years for me to realise what it was.
It was also the beginning of something else – a desperate desire to leave the village. My teenage years seemed to dissolve as I counted down the time until I could leave the place for good.
In a way, it is something of a relief not to be confined by the long, winding hedgerows that had felt like a prison wall for so many years. I just wished we could have left under different circumstances.
Eventually, the Doctor comes to talk to us. As soon as she spots us, I feel immediately sick when I consider the news she is about to break.
When she tells us that Dad had merely fallen and hit his head on the sink, I am filled with relief; I have been sitting here terrified the whole time, convinced Dad had suffered a stroke.
We are told we can go and see him once the nurse has finished dressing his head wound, although he will need to stay overnight in the hospital for observation.
I elect to go back to the house and pick up a change of clothes. I imagine April might have been the one to offer, had she been here.
Just as I get up to leave, Penny sweeps around the corner and sees us in the waiting room. She rushes over, breathlessly. 'Oh, Hannah. Oh my goodness! I came as soon as I heard. What happened?'
'Dad has had an accident,' I say, taking in her cleaning polo shirt. Wouldn't she have been working indoors? How would she have known what had happened?
'How did you hear?' I ask. 'It didn't happen that long ago ...'
'Albert said he saw an ambulance pulling into your Dad's driveway. I hoped it wasn't for him.'
'Who else would it have been for?'
Penny ignores me, looking to Will instead.
'But what happened?' she asks. 'Will he be all right?'
I notice how she has recovered her breath very quickly.
Will puts down his magazine. 'The doctor says he will be fine. He just needs to take it easy when he gets home tomorrow.'
'Oh, that's good. I'll have to pick up some things for him.'
'I'm already taking care of it,' I say. 'I was just about to leave.'
'That's a nice idea, Hannah, but I know where Tony's things are better than you do. You haven't even been in that house since you were a teenager, for heaven's sake.'
'I will take care of it,' I say, firmly.
I wander around the hospital car park, trying to find where Will left our car. He said he parked it under a tree, but the whole place is surrounded by trees and shrubbery. Out here it is a cloudless day again and the sun blazes down, burning my forehead and cheeks. It is barely cooler than inside the hospital itself. The heat is inescapable.
'Are you lost?'
I look around. Penny's brother, David, leans casually against his sister's blue Focus, also in his uniform and smoking a cigarette.
'Oh, hi,' I say. 'I was just looking for our car.'
'Memory like a sieve, eh?'
'No, it's just that my husband parked it, but I'm not sure where.'
'What is it?'
'A blue Nissan Qashqai.'
'I think I saw one of those around the corner.'
'OK, thanks,' I say, glancing over to where David gestures and hesitating on the spot.
'Is there anything else I can help you with?'
'No. It's just that I'd made a mental note to ask you and Penny if you could do Reg a favour and clean up his house for him. I guess it doesn't matter now though, does it?'
'It wouldn't have mattered.'
'Because he was too proud to accept the help?'
'No.'
'Then, why not?'
'He knew why.'
I hover for a second, key in hand, knowing I should just leave now. Then I remember that Reg had something to say about Penny. 'Had you had some sort of issue with Reg?' I ask. 'He seemed a little ... upset when I mentioned you the other day.'
'What did he say?'
'Nothing, really.'
'“Nothing, really?”'
'Well, I mean ... nothing in particular. He ... can take a dislike to some people sometimes.'
'For no reason at all?'
'Yes, I suppose ...'
He shrugs and crushes his cigarette under his boot. He opens the car door, picking up a bunch of colourful flowers. 'Penny wanted you to have these. But she wasn't sure if she would be allowed to take them up. We didn't know what your Dad had been taken in for.'
'Oh, thank you,' I say, taking hold of them. 'I'll take them home with me now, find a nice vase. Dad will like that when he gets back tomorrow.'
'It's not serious, then?'
'No, he just had a little accident, that's all.
In the baking-hot car, I roll down all the windows and take a deep breath as I pull out onto the motorway. Warm air rushes over me as I drive back to Dad's house. I look at the clock on the dashboard. It's lunchtime. Will and I would have been sitting down to eat in the garden right now with Dad and Eva, preparing my father for the fact we were going to leave.
There is no way that I can go now Dad has been hurt. He will need time to recover. Maybe I could leave Penny to fuss over him? Perhaps she isn't so bad after all? It might just be me she has an issue with.
Then again, I am sure his accident is a result of his drinking. That was definitely Penny's fault.
My heart sinks. Dad needs me.
He dedicated years of his life to taking care of April and me when we were children. I suppose it is a daughter's duty to have to return the favour. I just wish he had moved somewhere else.
Tears of frustration run down my cheeks as I pull into Dad's driveway
. I had thought that today we would be leaving this place for good.
I think back to my teenage self as I waited at the village railway station to leave for Uni. That girl had no idea she would meet Will again, have his children, build a home with him. I suppose more good things will come once we are out of Little Bishopsford again; I have to remember that.
Just another week; that should do it.
Inside the house, I find a vase and fill it with water. I place it on the coffee table and pick up the flowers again. Now I look at them more closely, I see they are a little weary around the edges of the petals. The plastic wrapping seems a little loose and I jump when I see a small black spider inside one of the yellow carnation heads. I shake it outside before returning to slip the bunch inside a vase.
Despite the array of colours, the bouquet doesn't seem to brighten up the room at all. They just make me think of Penny; of her dropping the bottle of wine last night, broken glass and crimson everywhere. The ghost of the alcohol still remains in the kitchen.
Something else bothers me – Penny says she and David hurried over to the hospital so quickly. She was even breathless. Did they really stop to buy flowers?
I move the vase to different positions in the lounge, from the centre of the coffee table to the end table next to the Chesterfield sofa but they just make me feel uneasy when they are in my sight.
I find Dad's walking backpack under his bed and start packing some overnight things inside. When I look through his drawers, I find myself indecisive over what clothes Dad might pack for himself, so I end up choosing a selection of items so he can make the choice.
In the bathroom, I feel like I have once again failed my family, this time as a daughter, not a sister. I glance around at the many bottles and toiletries and wonder which ones Dad actually uses for himself and which ones are here simply for his guests.
The gnawing sense of guilt rises high in my stomach again when I realise how little I really know my father. Penny was right, she would probably have known better than I what to bring.
I feel like an intruder; a stranger with a key to an old man's house. So many of Dad's clothes and possessions are unfamiliar. One of the photo album's we all looked through together rests closed on Dad's bedside cabinet; inside is the only evidence that I have a right to be in this man's house.