Anywhere's Better Than Here (25 page)

She clenched her fists and screamed once, very loudly, very theatrically. At once she was both exhilarated and mortified. She didn't need to look at Gerry and Jamie to know they'd stopped and spun round to look at her. Probably there were sheep straining all over the hillside to see what had happened. She closed her eyes, took a deep cleansing breath through her nose and let it out slowly through her mouth. She half expected to open her eyes to see Gerry running down the hill towards her, but when she opened her eyes Gerry and Jamie were still in the same place. In fact, Jamie immediately carried on upwards whilst Gerry looked back, one hand on his hip and what might very well have been a look of amusement on his face.

Bastard, she thought, he isn't even shocked! I'm a joke to him. She looked down to the house and, remarkably, it was further than she'd thought. She couldn't face being the big, moody baby again so she set off towards Gerry who at least, seemed to be waiting for her.

It took a few minutes to march up to him. Almost everything was easier to do when you had some anger pushing you on. Sometimes she pictured a big wheel in her head like the one on the TV show Wheel of Fortune, except the wheel in her head was called Wheel of Fury and it would spin and spin (making her feel angrier still) until it came to a halt on any one of a hundred things that made her furious. There were some topics (bosses, her ongoing lack of ready cash, other people's general stupidity) that always had a place on the wheel and there were also weekly – sometimes daily – hot topics.

At her old work there would usually be something happening to drive her mad. Like her boss deciding he was going to make tits of all of them in an effort to increase sales. It was all a bit too much for Laurie. The first time they'd done one of the so-called ‘‘sales games'' she'd tried hard and had even, horrifyingly, done a very enthusiastic air punch when she'd made enough. That was actually the worst thing, when she realised that not only had she done what she'd been told in a respectable time, but that she'd on some very basic level loved it. That was the first time she'd seriously considered killing herself in a toilet stall during her lunch break.

She shuddered. She was so out of there.

‘‘I thought you weren't coming,'' said Gerry when she reached him.

‘‘For fuck's sake Gerry, can't I change my mind?''

He smiled annoyingly. ‘‘Of course you can.'' He gave her a hug. ‘‘I'm glad you did.''

There wasn't much she could say to that so she knuckled down to the pace that Jamie had set.

‘‘Onwards and upwards,'' she said to Gerry.

It wasn't exactly that it was hard work getting up the hill. It wasn't like actually climbing something: looking for toe holds; testing how much your arms could take. It was just the ongoing pushing upwards that did you in. That, and that it was hard to tell how far you'd come and how far you had left to go. She kept looking back for the first twenty or so minutes but there was little change to gee her on. She gave up looking backwards and just let her mind drift. She wished she had a stereo with her or a biscuit or a book about her someplace. That way she could promise herself something to keep going. But she had nothing, no treat or incentive to keep her motivated. All she had was the sure knowledge that she couldn't go back down until she'd reached the top. There was just no way she was prepared to lose face to that extent.

She saw Gerry shooting her looks now and then to check if she was okay. He was probably worried that they were going to need mountain rescue. Imagine that, needing mountain rescue to be taken down from a hill! How mortifying! She kept on powered by bloody mindedness as per usual. She didn't like Gerry looking at her in that concerned way. It reminded her of the look on people's faces after her mum was diagnosed and then again when she'd actually died.

It was people being nice to you that did you in. It was like they were trying to make you cry. If you cried, they knew they were okay. They knew no one they knew had died or was dying. They knew they themselves weren't dying. It made some people feel special to proffer kindness to the bereaved. They were the types that liked to tell you some sort of pearl of wisdom that had served them well. Served them well under what circumstances? She'd like to know. Served them well under the circumstances of having to basically parent your parents when one of them was dying? As Jamie had said earlier, un-fucking-likely!

The truth was that no one really knew what it was like unless it had happened to them. Some people made a good guess, but the phrase ‘‘I know how you feel'' should be torn from the English language. It meant so little and caused a million repeated nips of pain for those who had to listen to it.

God, where was all this bitterness coming from?

She stopped and looked around.

It was all very pretty in a photograph kind of way. She knew that people all over the world would love to see what she was seeing now, but it left her cold. Give her a city any day. She preferred the moving landscape of people and cars and signs and adverts and stray bits of rubbish and animals. All this hill and grass and empty nature made her feel too big and human. She liked the picture to keep changing. All this static beauty made her feel emptied out and switched off. She liked to think about people as they passed: what they were wearing; who they were talking to; where they had come from; where they were going to. She preferred to be a part of a flickering card trick of one thing after another after another.

‘‘It's beautiful, isn't it?'' asked Gerry, standing on a rock one leg bent at the knee. He had one elbow on the knee and was surveying the land as if he was filming a documentary.

She nodded. You couldn't actually disagree with the observation. But there were all different types of beauty, and Gerry was welcome to his type. She just hated the idea that if you didn't like the peace and quiet of nature that you were somehow less worthy, more shallow – someone not capable of stillness. As if stillness was so great. Who ever accomplished anything sitting around? What an annoying notion. These fake-buddhist books that you could buy all over the place had a lot to answer for. Feng Shui! Meditation! Yoga! These things were all fine where they belonged, but did they belong in Scotland? She thought not.

‘‘Are you okay Laurie?''

He was staring at her. Intently, but kindly and not in an annoying way. He was nice, Gerry. She should cut him some slack.

He came back down towards her. She felt like lying down and making him take over, make some decisions, be the grown up. He'd manage fine. But the ground looked very uncomfortable and, in fact, it would be hard to find a relatively flat bit to get comfy on. Gerry was standing on a lumpy bit of grass that gave him half a foot of extra height to look down at her from. She wondered if it was a flattering angle to be looked at. It wasn't flattering for Gerry to be looked up at from. But nobody looked good from underneath. Not even models. She'd seen that on one of those reality modelling shows about which angles were good and which ones you must never let a photographer snap you from.

Gerry climbed down from the bump and stood next to her.

‘‘What are you thinking about?''

‘‘Isn't the woman meant to ask that?''

He waited patiently for her to answer.

She shook her head. ‘‘You don't want to know.''

‘‘I do. I wouldn't have asked otherwise.''

He looked at her so calmly that she couldn't help herself.

‘‘Lots of things: models, nature, stupid questions, stillness, death, flattering angles.''

‘‘Death?''

She looked down.

‘‘Are you thinking about your mum?''

She closed her eyes, but it was too late. She felt the wetness gather behind her eyelids. She opened her eyes slightly to let the tears out but it was as if that only encouraged them. She gave up and just let herself cry and Gerry grabbed her and held her. He said nothing, just held her up. He must have realised that she was close to letting herself drop. She knew that if she did drop, there was no way she'd be walking back down again by herself.

Gradually the tears stopped. She was almost sad she couldn't just keep going and going. She loved that feeling of empty, numbed exhaustion that came after a long and wringing cry. But this seemed to be a quick tip of a cry. Cleansing, but not quite rejuvenating.

She sighed and Gerry gave her a squeeze and set her back on her feet.

‘‘Come on, we'd better catch up with Jamie.'' She frowned. ‘‘Where is he?''

There was no sign of the boy.

‘‘Shit,'' said Gerry before darting off up the hill and around behind a crop of pine trees.

‘‘Fuck,'' said Laurie, suddenly feeling very ill-equipped.

‘‘Gerry! Gerry, wait!'' She struggled after him as he powered up the hill. He paused long enough for her to almost catch up with him, no doubt fearing that if he didn't, she'd disappear too and then he'd have two fuckwits to search for.

‘‘He can't have gone far, surely,'' she said, feeling panic knock about in her chest.

He looked back at her briefly, but all she could see on his face was worry. She realised he was muttering to himself.

‘‘What? What are you saying Gerry?''

‘‘I'm saying: how hard can it be?''

He sounded furious.

‘‘What do you mean? How hard can what be?''

‘‘I always manage to lose sight of the obvious thing.'' He was talking to himself, not her.

He had the look about him again that he'd had in the hospital. Only now she was responsible for him. She hadn't been able to walk out of the hospital and never look back. Now if she went off (if she was even able to go off, which she doubted) anything could happen. If they did, it would be at least partly her fault. What was she thinking though? Things had already gone to shit. It was all much too late. She should have told Gerry earlier. ‘‘Gerry, Gerry,'' she clutched at his sleeve. ‘‘There's something I need to tell you.''

He shook her off. ‘‘Not now Laurie.''

‘‘No, no, you don't understand.'' She pulled at him again, harder.

He stopped and turned to her. ‘‘What?'' He looked even more unhinged now, if that was possible.

‘‘Jamie told me that someone died in the accident he was in.''

‘‘
What
accident?''

‘‘The accident that brought him to the hospital, obviously.''

He shook his head, clearly confused.

‘‘Why did you think he was at the hospital?''

‘‘I don't know, I thought he was just there to meet Ed or something.''

‘‘At that time in the morning? It's hardly business hours, is it?''

‘‘Well? What happened?''

Gerry stopped and put a hand up to the side of his head. ‘‘I don't know, he wouldn't tell me anything much.''

Laurie stopped walking. ‘‘Anyway, why didn't you ask some bloody questions, eh?'' He stared at her. ‘‘If you had we might not be in this mess.''

His shoulders dropped. ‘‘I know, I know. It's all my fault. I just can seem to get it together.'' His voice was whiny and irritating.

‘‘You're right.'' She nearly jabbed him in the chest. ‘‘If you hadn't been so hell-bent on being the big,'' she paused, ‘‘saviour of the piece, this would never have happened.''

‘‘Saviour?'' He stopped and blinked at her. ‘‘What's that supposed to mean?''

‘‘You know what I mean.''

She backed away slightly. The expression on his face was close to being frightening. But she went on, she couldn't help herself.

‘‘Obviously things went wrong in the army.'' She said. ‘‘Obviously you fucked up when you were younger.'' She looked away, knowing she was going too far. ‘‘But you can't spend the rest of your life trying to atone for that stuff. It doesn't work like that.''

Now he was on the verge of crying again. But she had to be tough.

‘‘Oh, for fuck's sake, we aren't going to get anything sorted if you're just going to get all self-pitying.'' She strode past him. ‘‘Come on,'' she said over her shoulder.

Why was she always the one who had to keep it together? At what point was she allowed to be a mess and just really let go? She had her moments, but that's all they were – moments. She had a feeling that if she ever did have some sort of mental breakdown and ended up on a secure ward, within hours she'd be patting the nurses and saying, ‘‘there, there,'' to the doctors.

There was nothing for it but to press on.

There were various little knots of trees as the hill ascended. Jamie could be in any one of them, watching them and laughing. Or maybe he'd gone off in a fit of pique and was now regretting his actions, but too embarrassed to show himself. Or maybe he wanted to come back to them but was injured or unconscious.

‘‘Okay Gerry, focus.'' She stopped and looked back at Gerry. ‘‘What would you have done in the army?''

‘‘I would have sent some privates on to scout the area out and I would have used the detailed maps I would have been issued with.''

‘‘Your tone is not helpful.''

He scanned and rescanned the hill.

‘‘What are we going to do now?''

He didn't seem to be listening. ‘‘Jesus, it's getting dark. What was I thinking even setting off at this time ‘‘Fuck. We aren't even going in a straight ascent. Fuck. I'm not even following basic training.''

She needed him to calm down and get focussed. ‘‘Look. It's the stress, isn't it?''

‘‘What?''

‘‘I said it's the stress.'' She made her voice calm and steady.

‘‘That's what it's for, Laurie.''