Authors: Louisa Reid
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #General, #Fiction, #Family, #Thrillers, #Suspense
High above everything, high above the world. Peter held my hand and I held on to him, keeping him close, safe. We’d always been safe up here; we would be safe still. No one could take us, and if they tried I knew what we’d do. I stared at the night through the rain. No moon, no stars, but there were lights down on the drive, cars coming and going. The noise of a siren. Whoever it was, I didn’t care.
Voices in the Grange. They bounced and spun. All the dead girls, rising up at last, come to take us, to drag us, into the water. The moat glinted and smiled, shivery sharp. I pulled Peter closer.
Time passed. Minutes or hours, I didn’t know. Shutting down, switching off. Who was I? What had happened? Peter whimpered; I began to sing. A song about going home, home sweet home. My brother tight against me, the only life raft in the storm.
‘Audrey?’ This wasn’t Peter. Who was it? I turned my head to see. Blinked away rain, scrubbed at my glasses. A boy. No, a man. I’d known him once, I thought. But his name was lost. I clutched my brother. He couldn’t take him. The man tried to make me stand, to pull me inside, but I would not go in there. Not ever. I pulled away, moving closer to the edge, holding Peter. Peter was with me
and that was all that mattered. I would never let him go; never again.
‘Aud.’ The voice was soft and gentle. ‘Come on, Aud. It’s all right.’ The man sounded kind, but it could be a trick. Rain ran off his hair, down his face. A woman was with him. She reached out her arms. Who were they? I didn’t want them; no one could take my brother from me.
‘Audrey,’ Peter whimpered. We were very close to the edge. Of course he was scared.
‘It’s OK, mate,’ I said, hauling him into my arms. He clung to me, shivering. ‘Shh,’ I said, pulling him closer. The wind blew against us, making me stumble.
‘Come on, come downstairs; come with me,’ the man coaxed. The woman spoke again and I looked at them and then at the sky. The rain wouldn’t stop, not ever. We would always be drowning.
‘It’s all right – it’s us, Sue and Leo. We’re not going to hurt you, Audrey. We’re here to help. Please, let us help you.’
Peter whispered in my ear.
‘It’s OK, Aud,’ he said. ‘It’s OK – it’s Leo.’ He squirmed a little, wriggling, crawling out of my arms. And I was tired now; I let him go.
I felt a hand on my arm. The man. Leo. He was smiling at me, very gently.
‘Come on, Aud. Come away from the edge,’ he said. Peter slithered down and I let the man hold my hand and I made the rattling journey back down to earth.
It was weeks before Audrey was out of hospital and then they put her in foster care. Leo had begged Sue to take them in, but she said it didn’t work like that, and he knew she was right; he was being ridiculous. At least the family who’d taken Peter opened their doors to Audrey too; she wouldn’t want to be apart from her brother.
‘I still think we could have asked them to stay here,’ Leo complained to Sue, tidying away a pile of revision notes now his exams were over.
‘Well, I’m sure you can still meet up, Leo, in good time. When she’s feeling better. But it’s going to be very hard for her and you have to accept that. There’s a lot to sort out; it’s an awful mess.’ Sue sighed and sipped her tea. ‘I’m just sorry we didn’t do something earlier. I can’t believe I was so blind.’ She looked at Leo. ‘What on earth was going on in Lorraine’s head? I mean, it beggars belief. I can’t understand it.’
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ Leo said in a dull voice, like he didn’t really mean it. Although he didn’t blame Sue; of course he didn’t.
His aunt adjusted her specs and sucked in a breath. ‘No, I should have seen it. It makes sense, I suppose, but she had me fooled. I really believed she was a nurse. Clearly I’m an idiot. Poor Audrey and Peter. I believed her. I
believed everything.’ She looked confused again and Leo was sorry that he couldn’t explain it for her.
‘Let’s face it,’ he said. ‘We all sucked it up. Not just you. I don’t think even Aud knew about her job, that she was a cleaner, I mean. How could we have guessed? It’s the other stuff that’s worse.’
‘Well, at least her dad’s stepped up,’ Sue went on. ‘I’ve spoken to the woman at social services; she says he’s a decent man. They’ll be all right with him, I think, although I have to say I’d like to meet him myself, just to get peace of mind. And Lorraine won’t be allowed near them. I wonder what’ll happen when she’s out of hospital. She’ll go to prison. Maybe a psychiatric unit?’
Leo couldn’t muster more than a grunt in response to that.
He’d sat his exams, not knowing what he wrote. He had a feeling he had failed the lot. He played with the band once or twice at end-of-year parties. But his mind was still fixed on the night of the storm, on Audrey’s face in the rain. Her eyes dark and uncomprehending. It should be over, but he couldn’t forget, even though Lorraine was locked up now – for good, Leo hoped. It had been all over the papers, all over the news, and people round here had talked of nothing else. Jen Blake had sent him a letter for Audrey, but he hadn’t seen Aud to pass it on, even though he’d tried to get in touch.
Every day Sue asked Leo if he wanted to talk, but there was nothing to say. His stomach turned at night as his mind churned over the truth.
When his mum called Leo had nothing to say to her either.
‘It’s dreadful,’ his mother said. ‘Disgusting, that a mother could do those things to her own children. And your lovely Audrey! Oh, Leo, I’m sorry.’ Leo rested his head on his hands; it was pointless answering. You could say those words in a thousand different ways but it didn’t change the facts: it was too late.
‘Leo, come out here – come for a holiday. I can buy your ticket right now. Just say the word,’ she said.
Leo wasn’t going anywhere. So his mother booked her ticket instead. She would arrive mid August and take him to Europe. Four weeks without her BlackBerry, she promised, and that thought was the first in a long time to make him laugh.
One morning in early August when Leo was getting ready to go out – shovelling in breakfast, feeding Mary, hunting for his trainers – there was a knock at the front door. Sue had already gone out to the farmers’ market in town. Leo opened it, not sure who to expect, and saw Audrey. He almost dropped his glass and had to hold the door frame to keep steady.
‘Hello,’ she said; same voice, different smile. Of course she would have changed. The night of the storm he’d known that; she’d looked at him as if they were strangers. She still looked frail, wearing a baggy white T-shirt with long sleeves, a faded picture of the Stones on the front, leggings, sandals. He’d never seen any of these clothes before. Her hair had grown a little, but the angles of her
face were still sharp, and he had to stop himself putting his hand out and touching her.
‘I’ve come to say goodbye,’ Audrey said very softly, in the voice that still made his heart jump. Leo nodded, opening the door wider, inviting her inside, although if this was all there was he didn’t know if he could bear it.
They sat at the table with cups of tea. Mary snored on the warm kitchen tiles. The sun streamed in through the window and Audrey squinted and moved out of its path.
‘Where are you going?’ Leo asked, coughing over the words, rubbing his hands in his hair. She smiled, almost.
‘Didn’t you know? They found my dad. He said he’d have us, both of us. He’s not Peter’s dad, you know. But he doesn’t mind. So we’re going back up north to live with him.’ Her voice was flat, factual. The glowing spark he’d always seen inside her had gone.
‘He still likes the Rolling Stones,’ she said, as if that was what was important, ‘and he has a dog.’ She patted Mary, absent-mindedly. The dog thumped her tail.
‘Are you going to be OK, Aud?’ he said, and she nodded slowly, sipping her tea.
‘So long as I’m with Pete, I’ll be all right.’
Leo looked away. He didn’t like to ask if he could write or call; he didn’t want to make demands. It had to be enough that she was here, for the last time, he supposed.
‘When do you leave?’
‘A few weeks – I dunno; maybe longer. There’s stuff to sort out. But Dad’s here to visit. We might go to the seaside tomorrow if the weather stays like this. Peter likes the
seaside.’ She stared out of the window, then turned back and met his eyes for the first time. ‘Thanks for everything, Leo. Thanks. You helped me, you know.’
‘Not enough,’ he told her, leaning forward across the table, grabbing her hand. ‘I should have done something else sooner, I’m sorry –’
‘No,’ she interrupted, pulling away gently, standing up and walking into a patch of light. ‘Don’t think that. It’s not true.’ Her smile was sweet and pure. Her hair shone, a fuzzy halo round her head in the brightness. He wished he could touch her. He put out his hand, but she was out of his reach.
‘I’m going to be OK,’ she said. ‘I’m stronger than I look, Leo. Remember what you said? Being strong comes from being loved and I still have Peter. And I’ve got help now. I think my dad’s going to help me.’
So she didn’t need him any more? Was that it? After everything? Leo tried not to feel angry or cheated. She saw it in his eyes though, and took another step away.
‘I have to move on,’ she whispered. ‘Try, at least.’
‘I’d like to stay in touch. Maybe visit?’ Leo couldn’t help asking.
Audrey shrugged. ‘Maybe,’ she said, but he knew she was just saying it to be kind, and he wished she wouldn’t, because it was far too cruel, and once upon a time she’d have said straight out,
Don’t be daft, Leo. Don’t be so flipping daft
.
Audrey walked away back down the lane towards a car and he watched until he couldn’t see her any more.
I wanted to get back to Peter; leaving him for too long made me nervous. Him too. He’d be sitting at the window, waiting. I hoped he wouldn’t ask about Mum again today.
Leaving Leo like that, after everything, it might have made me cry once, before I knew what real pain felt like. We hadn’t touched; I’d pretended not to see when he’d stepped forward and opened his arms. Just the fifteen minutes I’d spent in the farm had been hard enough.
The air was warm but I was wearing long sleeves, not ready to see the scars again. Therapy would help; it was already helping, but after that night I’d put all the bad things back behind closed doors and was taking them out one by one to examine, when I could, to try and understand. It might take the rest of my life, but that would have to be OK. I didn’t know when I’d see my mother again. I didn’t really know how things would be with my dad. That was strange; that we were strangers. It hadn’t been like I’d dreamed, but at least he wanted us for now. Sometimes I worried he’d change his mind; sometimes I dreamed the Thing wasn’t really gone. I needed to get away from here, because the Grange still loomed in the distance over the fields and the moat still glittered darkly in my dreams.
I put my hand in my bag, rooting for gum, and my
fingers curled round something right at the bottom, crushed into a corner and wedged there, trapped. I excavated the paper and pulled it free. My superhero, lost long ago, flattened and twisted out of shape. I fumbled, trying to reassemble the tiny person that Leo had once made for me, reading for the first time its message as I smoothed out the creases. ‘Hope’ the first word of the poem read, and I traced the open strength of that capital letter, the two elegant vertical lines, straight and proud, the horizontal linking and connecting. It was strong, but gentle too. Like Leo had always been. I read the rest of the poem, then shut my eyes and saw the bird, Hope, come to life; I felt it stir for the first time inside me, just a flutter. Staring up at the sky, I saw more birds – swallows – and then, yes, it had to be, Peter’s kestrel, circling, wild and free overhead. The farm wasn’t far and Dad wasn’t in a hurry. ‘No worries, Aud,’ he’d said, ‘be happy.’ And I ran back and stopped outside the gates, staring at the pretty house beyond. I ripped a page from my notebook, scrawling on it my dad’s number. And I pushed it through the letter box, a message for Leo that was more than just a goodbye.
To Amanda Preston, my excellent and lovely agent, I send lots of love and a million thanks. Likewise, the wonderful Penguin and Puffin teams, especially my brilliant editor Anthea Townsend for her input, ideas and enthusiasm and Amanda Punter for her continued support. A giant thank you to Bella Pearson too, who worked last-minute wonders. To Wendy for being incredibly kind and helpful.
Many thanks to my family who continue to put up with me. To Eve and Scarlett for being the best daughters ever and for occasionally letting me go on the computer. Thanks to my sisters Emily and Margaret for your unwavering support and reading on demand, and to my brother Christopher and sister Felicity for being ace. Thanks also to Janet, Guy and Oliver for everything you’ve done to help. You’re all amazing.
Thank you to my brilliant friends for your ongoing support, especially: Juliette (for speed-reading and confidence-boosting, and being always ace), Corrin (especial thanks for giving lots of feedback quite a long time ago), Adrian, Kathryn, Tunc, Sarah, Diana, Helen, Sorrel, Marie-Louise, Keira, Dave, Anna, Jo, Jean, Amina and Joe. Thanks to Sam for the beautiful website and to Pete Salt for answering questions. Thanks to all the lovely St Mary’s Cambridge staff and girls for their enthusiasm. Thank you to the bloggers and readers who’ve been so kind,
especially: Jim, Amanda and Faye. Thank you to the immensely talented Peter Phythian for the music. Huge thanks to Teri for being so generous with her time and with her praise.
Thanks to Mabel the dog for taking me for walks. It’s been a big help.
Massive thanks and love to my parents. I am very lucky to have you.
And thank you to my dearest Alistair, for everything. Don’t go changing.
If you’ve been affected by any of the issues in this book, or would like to find out more, you may find these links helpful.