Hawthorn Read online

  He disarms me with his grin. “Something like that.”

  I study the apple then shake my head, holding up my own backpack. “Thanks, but I brought my own lunch and I’m not much of an apple fan. I prefer pears.”

  I unzip my bag and pull out my sandwiches wrapped in cling film. I unwrap them and hold one out to him.

  He shakes his head.

  Is that disappointment I see in his eyes? But then he’s smiling again.

  He smiles a lot.

  I like it.

  I chew and swallow. “So, you go to the college in Elder?”

  He shakes his head. “No, sorry.”

  “Oh, so where do you go?”

  “I don’t.”

  I study him. He can’t be more than seventeen, maybe eighteen. Maybe he’s already finished his studies.

  “How old are you?”

  “How old do you think I am?”

  I’m starting to get annoyed. It’s like trying to juice a prune. “I thought you might be around my age, sixteen to seventeenish, but I guess I was wrong, otherwise you’d be doing some kind of study. Oh, do you apprentice?”

  His eyes narrow. “In a manner of speaking.”

  I throw up my hands. “Seriously? Who decided we were playing twenty questions? If you’re going for the whole mysterious guy thing, then you’re failing.” I zip up my bag and stand.

  He stares up at me in surprise.

  “See you around.” I turn and trudge back into the woods, hoping that I’d headed in the right direction.

  14

  JULES

  We’re standing in the musty room; Mary’s uncle’s old room. The window is open and yet the smell refuses to take a leap out the window.

  Ann, ‘call me Annie’, is staring at the armoire. She has been here for less than fifteen minutes and it’s as if she has a rocket up her arse. I had to practically beg her to come upstairs.

  “So, do you want it?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m showing it to her, it wasn’t on Mary’s list, but I hate it. There’s something ugly about it and the sooner it’s gone, the sooner I’ll feel better.

  Annie moves toward it, reaches out to touch it and then curls her fingers into a fist. “Hawthorn wood, like the rest of the furniture, it’s a nice piece.” She doesn’t sound so enthusiastic.

  “So, do you want it?”

  She locks eyes with me. “No.”

  I balk. “But you said it was a nice piece!”

  “Did I?” She shrugs. “I really should get going. I’ll ask around for you about the armoire.”

  “Er, okay.”

  She is out the room and down the stairs as if she can’t wait to leave.

  She checks off other items on her list and promises to send a van for collection the next day.

  We are outside on the doorstep when she glances up at the spot above the doorframe.

  “You should get a horseshoe,” she says.

  “Sorry?”

  “A horseshoe.”

  I frown. “Is that a thing round here?”

  She smiles tightly. “I guess you haven’t been down to Learmonth yet then?”

  I shake my head. “We passed through on the way up, but that’s about it.”

  She glances about. “It’s a lovely spot, isn’t it? And with the beach so close, it’s wonderful.”

  “Yes, the kids are looking forward to the beach. I promised to take them down tomorrow.”

  She nods. “Well, I’ll see you. Take care and get a horseshoe, even if it’s just for decoration, to fit in. Its good luck, and you have a lovely family.”

  I watch her climb into her silver Vauxall Astra and drive away, gravel crunching loudly.

  I glance up at the door. A horse shoe if we want to fit in. Okay, I add it to my list of things to do before stepping back into the house, but the item slips from memory as soon as my feet cross the threshold. It’s time to start on dinner and I did promise Mary that I’d run her a bath.

  I massage shampoo into Mary’s hair. She has glorious hair, thick and dark. I love running my fingers through it, brushing it, dressing it.

  Mary sighs and sinks lower into the bubbles. “You spoil me, you really do.”

  “I know.”

  “Did the woman come about the furniture?”

  “Yep, all sorted. A van is picking up the pieces tomorrow, got a good price too. We should be able to put in that new kitchen you wanted.”

  She tilts her head back and I lean forward and peck her on the lips. “I better go check on the chilli. See you down there.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I go into the bedroom first and find her pyjamas and slippers and lay them out on the bed. I love doing this, spoiling her. It makes me happy to see her smile. I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone, not after Nat. I thought Nat was the love of my life. Four years we were together and I did everything for her. Cooked, cleaned, managed the bills, and held back her hair so she could puke when she came back from a night out. She was a wild one, Nat, and it made me feel wild to be with her. Yet it soon wore thin. The drinking and the clubbing and the constant mess, and eventually the rose-tinted spectacles just fell off. I saw the relationship for what it was. I realised I was her bitch. I realised that she didn’t love me, not the way I loved her. I realised I was a comfort, someone to come home to, someone that would make it all better. So I left. It was hard at first, being alone, but after a couple of months it was like Nat had never existed. Then I met Mary. Newly divorced, sunny bright Mary with the perfect arse, and I knew I had to have her. Philip, my brother, introduced us. He thought Mary might be interested in my work, being an agent and all that. That’s exactly how he put it, and I could tell she wasn’t impressed. I didn’t know what to do but apologise. We talked about anything but my book and at the end of the evening she gave me her card. I called her the next day and she told me in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t sign me because she didn’t mix business with pleasure, but she could refer me to several agents that may be interested. Then she asked me out to dinner. The rest is history. Mary is everything that Nat is not. Mary doesn’t need me, she wants me, and that feels so good.

  A chill climbs up my spine and I shudder, swimming out of my thoughts. I turn to the window. It’s firmly closed. I tell myself it’s an old house and old houses have strange drafts. I move to the door and step into something cold and wet. Glancing down I see a small puddle of water. I look up at the ceiling but it’s dry, and then I see the footstep; wet imprints on the dark floor. For a moment I think its Mary, that she’s slipped out of the bath without me hearing. But the footsteps are too small. My arms have broken out in goose bumps as I follow the footsteps to the bathroom. They stop just outside.

  “Mary?”

  No answer.

  My heart is pounding real hard and I don’t know why. I reach for the doorknob. It’s wet. I panic and throw the door open. Mary is gone. No, she’s not gone. She’s still in the water… Under the water!

  I rush forward, a scream trapped in my throat. I grab her by the hair and pull.

  She comes up spluttering, thrashing.

  “Mary? Oh, babe! Are you okay?”

  She wipes at her face. “What the fuck, Jules?”

  I stare at her uncomprehending.

  She glares at me. “What did you do that for?

  Realisation steals over me. “You didn’t fall asleep did you?”

  “No! I was washing out the shampoo.”

  We stare at each other. I can feel the sheepish look on my face and I watch as her annoyance melts. She shakes her head. “You Dodo.” She smiles, sniffs the air.

  “The chilli!”

  I rush down the stairs getting to the chilli just in time to save it from ruin.

  It’s only much later when I’m setting the table that I remember the wet footprints.

  15

  GEMMA

  How was tutoring?

  Okay but…

  But?

/>   Nothing.

  No fair, you can’t do that!

  I watch the message box, tapping a nail against my laptop as I wait for a response.

  It’s probably nothing but I think Jessica’s faking it.

  I roll my eyes. Finally.

  Tell her to piss off then.

  I can’t. I could really do with the money.

  I know, it’s just…

  What?

  Nothing.

  Whoa you can’t do that!

  I laugh. I can imagine his face all screwed up and indignant, his red hair sticking up all over the place. I want to reach up and smooth it and the desire is like an ache in my chest.

  Helloooo! Gemma!

  I think she has a crush on you.

  Oh.

  Yeah.

  In that case I better tell her to piss off.

  “Gemma! Dinner’s ready!”

  Shit, gotta go. Dinner’s ready.

  K.

  On impulse I send him a heart.

  After a moment he sends one back.

  I log off with a warm feeling in my chest.

  Chilli is a favourite of mine. We have it with rice, salsa and sour cream and Jules has gone all out and even heated some wraps. Decisions, decisions… I decide to have a little of everything.

  Danny and Heather are already chomping down and I am loading up my plate when mum walks in, looking all shiny and refreshed. I feel a pang of guilt. I’ve been pretty horrible to her over the whole moving thing, and all she has tried to do is make it a home for all of us. I have to admit, Learmonth House and the village, aside from its little quirks, are pretty nice. I imagine long summers on the beach, stunning winters taking walks in the white-washed woods, with hot chocolate on the veranda afterwards. I tell myself that all houses take some getting used to. The strange sounds I’ve been hearing, the creepy vibe, it’s all part of the adjustment.

  Mum takes the seat opposite me and I give her a tentative smile, a truce. She blinks in surprise and I pass her the bowl of rice.

  “Thanks, honey.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Her eyes light up and I feel even worse. God, I can be such a spoiled bitch sometimes.

  We tuck in and there is blissful silence, just the sound of chewing and, in Danny’s case, slurping from his favourite Spiderman beaker.

  My stomach feels nice and warm and full. I sit back and sigh.

  Mum looks up. “Did you enjoy your walk today?”

  I nod. “It’s really pretty.” I’m about to tell her about Sam, but change my mind. I don’t want her to think I am being nice to her just because I’ve met a boy. “I was wondering, have we been here before? I mean to visit.”

  Mum frowns. “Once. You were only a couple of months old, though. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, and that’s the only time we visited?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  Well, that shoots down my theory. There’s no way I could remember the tree, or anything else for that matter, if I had been a baby when we visited.

  I shrug. “Just déjà vu.”

  Mum smiles. “We did go to the Lake District when you were three. There’s a lot of forest land up there. We stayed in a cabin with Jim, Jen and Harry, their little boy. Maybe you’re recalling that?”

  I nod. “Yeah, could be.”

  “You came here with Kevin?” Jules asks mum.

  Mum nods. “Trust me, it wasn’t my idea. Uncle Henry turned into a bit of a recluse after his wife Karen passed away. But then, out the blue, just after Gemma was born in fact, he sent us an invite to visit. Kevin thought it was a good idea to go, get into Henry’s good books, you know?” She waves her arm in an arch to indicate the house.

  I feel a stab of annoyance. Why is she trying to make dad look bad?

  Mum glances at me and her expression softens. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a dig at your dad. He was a great dad. I remember, it was just after we got back to London from our visit to Learmonth actually, you got so sick. You were crying all the time, came out in hives, your eyes gunky and streaming constantly. And then you stopped breathing.”

  Danny climbs off his chair and onto my lap. I put my arms around him almost absently, eyes never leaving mum’s face. How come I have never heard this story?

  Mum swallows, her eyes misting. “I thought we’d lost you, I really did. Your dad, he took charge. The paramedics managed to get you breathing again, but you were in hospital for two weeks. Your dad…he was my rock. He spent hours at your side because I couldn’t bear it, to see you like that. I didn’t believe you would make it, but you did. I still don’t know how you pulled through.”

  Jules is staring at mum with interest and it makes me feel better to know I’m not the only one who hasn’t heard this story.

  “Did they figure out what was wrong with her?” Jules asks.

  Mum shakes her head. “Not really, although they did say all her symptoms were allergy-based and for a while they thought she might be like that bubble boy, you know the one. It was the allergy treatment that saved you. Do you remember the inhaler you had and the sweetie medicine I used to give you?”

  A memory stirs somewhere in the back of my mind, but I fail to grasp it and it slips away.

  Mum smiles. “You grew out of it though, much quicker than we expected.”

  I can’t imagine being sick like that. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I was sick.

  Jules takes advantage of the lull in conversation. “Who wants dessert? Ice-cream or cheesecake?”

  “Ice-cream!” the twins shout.

  I get into my pyjamas and climb into bed with my laptop. I sign in and log onto Facebook to check if Liam’s on. He’s not. I’m about to sign out when I see a message from Beth. We used to spend a lot of time together, but she got into makeup and fashion and nails and we drifted apart, but she’s good people.

  I click on the message and read it.

  Saw Liam at Costa with Jessica today. What’s up with that? He’s your mate so I thought I’d let you know to warn him, she’s a total ho bag he does not want to go there!

  I stare at the message and my heart is in my feet. I close the laptop and shove it under my bed.

  There is nothing I can do about this. He is miles away and he knows how I feel. He knows how I feel and he chose to go out with her anyway.

  It hurts. Tears leak from my eyes, but I brush them away angrily. Tears are a waste. I have a new life now and, as of tomorrow, Liam is not a part of it.

  16

  JULES

  The silence is permeated only by the sound of our breathing and the odd creak as the house settles around us. I’ve left the curtains open so I can watch the moon trip across the sky from the comfort of my bed. From up here, the view is unobstructed and clear. It helps me relax and drift to sleep.

  Mary fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. I am still surprised at how she does that. No transition, nothing, just an instant deep sleep. That was over an hour ago. I listen to her deep, even breath and am about to drift off when she starts to mumble. I tense. Another nightmare? She whimpers and cries out. I wrap my arms around her, whispering in her ear, “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream.”

  She falls silent, her body relaxing. Just as I am about to let down my guard, she bolts upright, breaking out of my grip and screams.

  I act on instinct, slapping a hand over her mouth and pulling her close. “Shhh, Mary. Hush, it’s okay, you’re okay. It was just a dream.”

  She fights me, thrashing about. Her fist smacks me in the eye.

  “Fuck! Mary! Fuck!” I release her to nurse my face.

  “Oh god!” Mary is back. “Jules? Shit! I’m so sorry.”

  I nod. “You okay?” I squint across at her. She looks sweaty, shaken. “What was it about?”

  “What?”

  “The nightmare.”

  She shakes her head. “I – I can’t remember.”

  “You were crying.”

  “Was
I?”

  “Yeah.”

  She lies back on the pillow, pulling the covers back up around her. “I’m cold.”

  That is my invitation to snuggle.

  I pull her into my arms and hold her close. “Maybe you should see a doctor.”

  She laughs. “About bad dreams? Seriously?”

  “I don’t know. I just… I’m worried about you. You’ve been having nightmares ever since we moved.”

  “Exactly. It’s just the move. I’ll be fine.”

  I smile. That’s my Mary right there, assured and confident and not afraid of anything.

  “Oh, I think I remember now.”

  “What?”

  “I was dreaming of Karen.”

  “Karen? Henry’s wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you never met her?”

  “I didn’t. At least, I don’t think I did.”

  “So what happened?” I ask.

  “I can’t remember. I guess something bad.”

  “How did she die?”

  “She killed herself.”

  “Shit! Why?”

  Mary yawns, her jaw popping. “Not sure how much is true, but rumour has it that Karen killed her newborn and then killed herself; postnatal depression more than likely. It was very misunderstood back then.” She leans up and drops a kiss on my cheek before rolling onto her side, pulling my arm around her waist.

  She asleep in seconds, but for me, sleep is a long time coming.

  17

  GEMMA

  My phone sits on my bedside table, silent and dead. I haven’t bothered to charge it. I’m not ready to speak to Liam yet. Instead, I work on Heather’s present. The twins turn five at the weekend. Mum and Jules have planned a day out to the nearest theme park for them. I said I would stay home and bake them a cake so we can have a little celebration when they get back. I wanted to give them something they could wear all the time, or most of the time. My box of goodies is open on my bed, filled with clear packets of charms and links, leather and clasps, beads and diamantes. Mum has promised to take me shopping soon to get some more stuff and Jules has promised to help me set up an Etsy store. I want to start selling custom-made creations.