Hush (10 page)

Connie sat in the middle of a row of red cushioned chairs, slouched so low that she was almost horizontal. Her school bag occupied the seat next to her. The chairs lined the wall opposite the deputy head’s office in one of the busiest school corridors, designed for maximum humiliation in between classes when the hallways boiled with students. For the moment there was no one around except a squeaky-shoed receptionist who kept walking back and forth, giving Connie a disdainful look each time she passed, but it wouldn’t be long until she was subjected to the stares of every passing student.

It was nearly the end of the school year, and there was a feeling of anticipation, of general winding-down as everyone edged closer to six weeks of freedom. Sunlight streamed through the windows behind Connie and warmed the back of her neck, carrying tantalising hints of ice cream and freshly cut grass and tanned shoulders. Inside, though, the darkness was thick and dusty, as if the overall air of gloom couldn’t be penetrated by mere sunlight.

The door in front of her opened, revealing a tall man, slightly younger than her father, with a tuft of dark hair that was greying at the sides. Mr Elliott’s face was generally kind, though at that moment he didn’t look pleased to see her. He gestured her into his office without a word, and closed the door behind them, waving his hand in the direction of a chair. ‘Take a seat, please.’

She did as she was asked, and waited silently while he walked around the desk to sit down opposite her.

‘Are you going to tell me why you’re here?’

Connie looked down at her knees, unsure what to say. She’d never seen him look angry before, and there was a hardness in his eyes she found unnerving.

‘Connie, please, do me the credit of at least attempting to explain yourself. We both know the official version of the story, of course. I’m asking to hear yours.’

She bit her lip, feeling small and childish. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh, come on.’ His voice was derisive.

‘I don’t know what they’ve told you. But it’s lies.’

‘How can you know it’s lies if you don’t know what they’ve said?’

She raised her head to glare at him. ‘Because it’s
always
lies. You know that as well as me. Everyone knows how they all treat me, and the school still always takes their side over mine. Every time. It’s not fair.’

‘Unfortunately, Connie, fairness isn’t really the issue at hand here.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean? Isn’t this my chance to tell my side of the story? To – to vindicate myself, or whatever?’

‘Go on, then. Vindicate yourself.’

Connie realised she was trembling. ‘You won’t believe me.’

Mr Elliott sighed, and leaned back in his chair. ‘Actually, Connie, I always believe you. I just think you go about dealing with things in the wrong way. I don’t think it’s fair that you have to deal with it in the first place, but you only make things worse for yourself.’

She glared at him, but his expression was unrelenting. ‘Okay. Fine,’ she said eventually. ‘They stole my PE kit. And when I tried to find it they shut me in the showers, and no one realised until after the lesson, because they told Mr Bentham I’d gone home ill. So I was pissed off, and I punched Eleanor
in the face. And instead of punching me back, like a
normal
human being, she ran and told a teacher so I’d get in trouble, and she’ll beat me up after school instead, where no one can tell her off. That’s it. The whole story.’ The injustice of it made her eyes sting with tears, but she wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of the only teacher who didn’t think she was some kind of monster teenager from hell.

Mr Elliott was still leaning back in his chair, surveying her, his face calm. His eyes had softened, but his expression was largely unreadable. Connie couldn’t tell if he believed her or if he just felt sorry for her for being such a pathetic liar.

‘Do you think,’ he asked eventually, leaning forwards and resting his chin on his hands, ‘that punching Eleanor was the best way you could have reacted?’

‘Of course not.’

‘So why did you do it?’

‘Because she’s a bully and she makes my life hell every day and I really, really wanted to.’

The corners of Mr Elliott’s mouth twitched as this. ‘Do you know why she bullies you? Maybe if we could get to the bottom of why she doesn’t like you then we could try and fix whatever the problem is.’

‘Why does there have to be a reason?’

‘There’s always a reason.’

‘No, there isn’t. Plenty of people get bullied just because they’re – short, or they have – I don’t know – ginger hair, or whatever. Those aren’t real reasons. They’re just things that bullies make up when they’ve decided they don’t like someone.’

Mr Elliott nodded. ‘And does Eleanor ever give you a reason like that? Does she think you’re short?’

He was smiling, now, and Connie looked at him sharply, trying to figure out if he was mocking her.

‘No.’

‘Does she say anything?’

‘What does it
matter
? Nothing she says is true. She knows it isn’t true. She just says it to be mean.’

‘But maybe she believes it to be true.’

Connie narrowed her eyes. ‘She knows she’s lying.’

‘But what if she doesn’t, hmm? How do you know what she thinks? If she genuinely believes something about you – something awful – then maybe her behaviour is slightly more understandable.’

‘If you know what it is, then why are you making me tell you?’ Connie folded her arms over her chest, defensive.

‘I don’t know anything, Connie. I’ve just heard rumours, like everyone else, and I’ve read newspapers, like everyone else, and I think you know exactly why Eleanor doesn’t like you but you’ll do anything as long as you don’t have to talk about it.’ His voice was even, and free from accusation.

‘They’re just rumours.’

‘I believe you.’

‘Then why aren’t you taking my side? Why isn’t she in here, if you know I’m telling the truth?’

‘Because I don’t
know
anything. I believe you, that’s all. Fact is, I’ve still got a pupil who’s been punched in the face and says you did it. And you’re not denying it, so what am I supposed to do? I can’t be seen to condone your behaviour.’

‘But you can be seen to condone hers?’

‘Are you going to officially complain to me about her behaviour?’

Connie looked at her feet, and said nothing.

‘Thought not. Look, Connie, I want to help you. Really, I do. But the only way this is going to get resolved is if you talk to these girls. Tell them what happened when you were younger. Isn’t it possible that this is all a misunderstanding – that these girls are actually scared of you because of what they think happened out there?’

Connie snorted. ‘If they were scared of me they wouldn’t be constantly trying to beat me up.’

‘Sure they would. That’s what I do when I’m scared of people.’ Mr Elliott smiled and, reluctantly, Connie smiled back.

‘Thanks for the pep talk,’ she said. ‘So what’s my punishment?’

‘Is that all you have to say for yourself?’

She nodded.

‘Fair enough. I think a week’s worth of detention ought to do it, don’t you?’

The house was warm and slantingly sunlit when Connie arrived home. She could see all the dust, highlighted at odd angles by the shafts of light, thickening the air around her. Her footsteps echoed in the hallway, and she placed her bag on the floor next to the rows of shoes, listening carefully. There was no sound from inside, though she could hear distant voices in the garden.

She toyed with the idea of going straight upstairs, but she knew it was inadvisable. Her parents would know something was wrong regardless, so she might as well get the worst of it over with.

She found them in the garden, digging up the flowerbeds. Her mother was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, her long hair swept back from her forehead and fastened in a red scarf Connie had never seen before. She was kneeling in the dirt, her hands plunged into the earth, and Connie’s first thought was that she looked happier than she had in months. She wasn’t smiling exactly, but there was a lightness to her expression which reminded Connie of earlier times. Of Life Before Billy.

Her father was on the other side of the lawn, wielding a spade, shovelling wood and weeds into a pile for a bonfire.
He was the first to notice Connie, and he lifted his hand in a wave as she stepped out on to the patio. ‘Hey, stranger. What’s going on?’

‘I was just about to ask you the same thing,’ she replied, smiling faintly. ‘What’s all this about?’

‘Oh, nothing major. Just a general tidy-up that’s long overdue.’ He lay the spade down on the grass and walked over to give her a hug. ‘How was your day?’

She shrugged. ‘Day-like. Are we having a bonfire?’

‘Yeah, I thought I’d light it tonight. You want to help?’

‘Sure.’ She wandered over to the pile, prodding it experimentally with a toe. ‘It’s been ages since I’ve been out here.’

‘Well, I think we’ve all been neglecting it a bit.’ Marcus hesitated, as if he might say more, but decided not to. ‘Your mother’s going to do some planting over the next couple of days.’

‘Isn’t it a bit late in the year for that?’

‘For most plants, yes.’ Anna stood up, brushing dirt off her jeans as she did so. ‘There are some things we can plant now. Might not see much activity until next spring, but at least if we make a start now then we know it’s there.’

Connie nodded. This seemed to contradict most of what she knew about gardening, but she chose not to say anything, not wanting to test the boundaries of her mother’s newfound good mood.

‘We were thinking,’ Anna continued, her eyes wide and slightly unnerving, ‘that we might go on a holiday at some point soon. Nothing major. Just get out of the house for a few days, go somewhere peaceful. What do you think?’

Connie hesitated. ‘With Lily?’

‘Not this time.’ Her father jumped in before Anna could. ‘The institute won’t let her leave at the moment. But that doesn’t mean we can’t get away for a bit, does it?’ He reached
out a hand and squeezed her shoulder. ‘I think we could all do with a break.’

‘We need to stop putting our lives on hold,’ Anna said bluntly. ‘We can’t just sit here, waiting for Lily to come back.’

We could have just not sent her away in the first place,
Connie thought, but didn’t say it aloud. ‘No,’ she said instead. ‘I guess we can’t.’

She went back inside after a while, leaving her parents to it. She picked up her school bag from the hallway, remembering as she did so the letter that was inside it, advising her parents that she was in trouble again. She had promised Mr Elliott that she would give it to them, and for a moment she felt bad about betraying his trust, when he’d expressly said that with any other student he would have put it straight in the post. But then, surely he shouldn’t be putting her in that position? Giving her the responsibility of bringing about her own downfall?

She hesitated, and then went back to the patio doors. Stuck her head out of the door until she could see her father. ‘Dad?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Can I stick some stuff on the bonfire?’

Lily, as Connie remembered her. Eight years old, tiny, blonde, almost ethereal in her pale insignificance. Voice just a whisper:

– Connie please take me with you I want to come don’t leave me behind –

In the dark, in a room with bars on the windows. The institute.

Shadows behind her, shifting but never quite resolving into an image Connie could identify. Black on black, indecipherable.

– Only crazy people live in a place like that –

The walls of the room blended into the trees outside so that they were surrounded by grasping tree fingers. Twigs snapped underfoot. Lily on her bed, suddenly very far away. Calling to Connie, but Connie couldn’t hear what she was saying.

The bed seemed to be moving. Alive?

– Help me don’t leave me here please hush it’s all in your imagination but it’s not it’s not I didn’t make it up I swear –

‘She’s insane, you know, didn’t you know that, I thought we told you?’ The voice, much closer. Connie turned to find her mother standing next to her.

‘You’re supposed to care about her.’

‘I’m just telling you the truth.’

‘If you really cared you’d help me get her back.’

‘Don’t you know? No one comes back from there.’

Her mother took a step forward, and vanished into the trees.

Or became them. They felt alive, but Connie didn’t want to touch them to find out.

A brief flash of teeth, the faintest glimmer of claws.

No way forward, no way back.

Connie took a step, hesitantly, but even if she ran it would be too late. Lily’s bed was getting further and further away, and Lily was sinking into it, so that her legs were already half-gone, and it was impossible to tell where Lily ended and the bed began.

She screamed her name, and abruptly found herself in her own bed, heart pounding, drenched in sweat, the shadows around her making a fleeting effort at looking menacing before they receded into the normal darkness of her room.

She took a deep breath, and lay back down, counting her breathing, two seconds in, two seconds out, until her heart slowed to its normal rate. She didn’t go back to sleep.

Lily sat at the kitchen table, letter in one hand, the other curled around a steaming mug of coffee. The warmth in the palm of her hand was keeping her almost-grounded in the present moment, though she still found herself drifting. It was the words, she thought, frustrated. They were blurring on the page in front of her. Rearranging themselves into senseless sentences. Sentences without sense.
Tenc. Cent.

Oh, for pity’s sake, not now.

The university letterhead hovered above it all, the one thing that seemed to Lily concrete and understandable. The rest of the words were too small and close together.

Dear Ms Emmett…

Richard was at work. He’d only been back for five days, but already Lily had settled into a routine. She got up when he got up, checked her emails, went back to bed an hour later, slept until mid-afternoon. Then she got up and toyed with some work until he got home. She mostly paced from room to room, scribbling on her graph pads, covering them in scrawls that Richard wouldn’t understand.

He believed her to be doing work. He always thought the best of her.

The phone rang, but it was distant, otherwhere. She didn’t answer it.

In light of recent events, we would like to offer you…

She traced the words on the page with one finger. It was a horrible font, she observed, distantly. Richard would hate it.
All angular and computery. He was a fan of serifs, flourishes, things that looked old-fashioned.

A sabbatical. Wasn’t that supposed to be a good thing? She’d heard people talking of them as something to be earned, something exciting. Time off to do research, wasn’t that basically it? So why did she feel like she was being fired?

Time
to rest
. Well, she certainly didn’t need that. If anything she needed less time. Her days were filled with time. All she had, in fact, was time, which she filled with sleeping and remembering and forgetting and not a whole lot else.

It couldn’t be right. Richard would be home soon. He would sort it out.

Richard tried the home number again, but hung up after five rings. He didn’t want it going to answerphone. Didn’t want to leave a message and then spend the next hour or two waiting for her to ring back.

At least if he could keep ringing it would give him something to do.

He’d spent five days pretending. Leaving the house at the usual time, coming home at the usual time. Wandering from café to park and back again. Getting buses to random villages and strolling around them.

Today, he’d come back to Drayfield.

It hadn’t been intentional. He’d decided to go further afield, having grown tired of the local scenery, and happened to look up as the train he was on passed through the nearby town. Figured he might as well get off and catch a bus to Drayfield: at least he’d be wandering around somewhere with some significance to it. All villages blended into one another after a while. He wasn’t sure how many more quaint white cottages he could stand to look at.

Drayfield was a fairly modern village, all things considered. It had expanded from a small cluster of houses (all quaint and cottagey) to a relatively sizeable collection of streets, housing about a thousand people. It had a couple of pubs that didn’t look like terrible places to spend time in, a church that was rarely more than half-full, and a small high street with all the necessary shops and a couple of souvenir places that seemed to exist in the optimistic expectation of some future tourism. Although it didn’t have a school, the one in Farnworth, the nearby town, was known to be good, so plenty of families with young children lived here. All in all, Richard reflected, not an awful place to be.

The house where Lily and Connie had grown up was right on the outskirts. The front garden looked considerably more overgrown than it had done a few weeks ago, with weeds invading the gravel driveway, and the bushes almost obscuring the front gate. But it was still a nice house. Although he didn’t have the keys, he walked around the back and peered in through the patio doors. The kitchen looked dark, less welcoming than it had done last time he had been there. But that was just because he was looking at it from the outside, of course. Once they were inside, and once they’d decorated a bit…

He tried to imagine Lily’s expression. Whether she’d say anything at all. Would she tell him, if she didn’t want to come? Or would she just go along with his wishes, thinking that she didn’t have a choice?

He knew Connie had been worrying about what to do with the house. And he knew Lily had been restless ever since they’d visited it. Richard thought of the effect it was having on her psyche; the things that were going undealt-with, her separation from her past. She wasn’t just passing out for random reasons. There had to be something going on there. And there was Connie, of course. Constantly worrying about
her sister. Connie was right. Richard had been wasting his time, selfishly wishing that Lily wouldn’t change. Refusing to face up to the fact that it would be better for all of them if she did.

Well, maybe not for him. But better for her.

Even though she might not see it that way.

She was asleep on the sofa when he got home, the TV projecting silent images across the room, her half-drunk coffee sitting stone-cold on the table. She didn’t even stir when he walked in. It was only four-thirty, but it was already dark, the room lit by the greenish glow of the lamp in the corner.

He surveyed the room, looking for other clues. He knew she’d been feeling low since he’d gone back to work. She’d faked productivity, but he wasn’t an idiot. He might not understand maths, but he’d spent enough time watching her from the sidelines to know what real work looked like. Besides, she was different when she was occupied with a problem. There was usually an insurmountable distance between them which felt like some kind of force field. At the moment, she might be far away, but he could still get close enough to touch her.

He paused by her side, brushed silvery strands of hair away from her face; she huffed in her sleep, scowling, and he smiled to himself and pulled his hand away. Walked through to the kitchen, to find the post disordered on the table. The letter from the university, resting neatly on the top.

He read it through twice, trying to find words which belied anything but concern. There were none. They weren’t firing her; they knew how precious she was. They were just giving her some time off to preserve whatever it was that made her who she was.

He smiled, went back into the living room, and tucked himself under her legs. She moaned softly, but didn’t wake up.

Connie was putting the boys to bed when the phone rang. Nathan was out, attending some work do that she hadn’t been in the mood for. He’d grumped at her for not going with him, but conceded the fact that he would have a better time by himself than with a miserable wife in tow.

She left Tom in charge of tucking Luke in, and caught the phone just as the answerphone clicked on, whirring and announcing itself in its ridiculously patronising female voice. ‘Hello?’

‘Hey, it’s Richard.’

‘Oh.’ She waved a hand impatiently in the direction of the answerphone, as if that might in some way silence it.

‘Everything okay?’

‘Yes. Sorry. Putting the boys to bed; the answer machine’s going haywire… Can I ring you back later?’

‘Well, actually, I was just wondering if you wanted to go for dinner tomorrow.’

His voice was hushed, Connie noted. ‘Just the two of us?’

‘Yeah. I’ve got some things to discuss. And, er, probably an apology to make, after the last time I saw you.’

Connie laughed. ‘Don’t worry about that. You had just lost your job. And I haven’t been the most cheerful person of late. I’m sure we were both overreacting.’

‘Even so…’

‘Dinner would be lovely. Actually, Nate’s out tonight so that works out perfectly for us. He can do child duty tomorrow. Usual time, usual place?’

‘Excellent. See you then.’

They hung up, and Connie went back upstairs, not sparing a moment to wonder what he might want to talk about.