Hush (3 page)

Lily was the first person in the department most mornings. She shared an office with two other members of the faculty: a lecturer in algebraic topology, Eric, who insisted on drinking out of a mug bearing the slogan ‘To a Topologist This Is a Doughnut’, and Marianna, a German who specialised in archaeostatistics and being quiet. They tended to work in near-total silence, which was only ever interrupted by Eric, whose opinions fluttered out of his mouth and settled ineffectually on the indifference in the room.

Lily treasured the early mornings, when she could work without interruption. She hated sharing an office; had several times considered moving to a new institution just for the privilege of having her own space in which to work. But Richard didn’t want to move. And when it came right down to it, nor did Lily. So she came in early, worked hard, taught for the required number of hours, and went back home to capture a few uninterrupted hours of productivity before Richard arrived home.

She set up the coffee machine, switched on her computer, and raised the blinds to let in the first struggling signs of daylight. The sky was blue-grey, without any genuine promise of becoming brighter later in the day. It was the claustrophobic darkness of mid-October, the kind that in the evenings carried with it promises of trick-or-treating, bonfires, hot chestnuts and tinsel, but in the early mornings merely pledged drizzle and murky, rain-bleached sunlight.

Checking her emails took considerably longer than usual. It was her first day back in the office. They’d offered her compassionate leave, but she didn’t see the point. The longer she was out of touch with the academic world, the harder it would be to fight her way back to the centre. Besides, excessive thinking without an object on which to focus thought was the quickest route to insanity, in her limited experience.

When she was most of the way through her inbox, Marianna came in, and they exchanged awkward conversation for a previously unheard-of length of three minutes. How are, where have, did you, and, here we are. Three minutes to establish that nothing in their working relationship had changed, or needed to change. Then back to the silence in which they were both most comfortable.

The phone rang ten minutes later.

‘Lily Emmett.’

‘Lils! Richard said you were going back to work today.’

Lily didn’t respond, but shifted the receiver to rest between her ear and her shoulder, so that she could continue typing while Connie spoke.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Yes, fine, thank you. And you?’

‘Fine. Well, you know, not
fine
, obviously not. I know you’re not either. We should meet up soon. The kids would like to see more of you, and of course Nathan…’

‘I’m at work.’

‘I didn’t mean
now
.’ Deliberately missing the point. ‘Look, Lils, there’s stuff we need to talk about. I was wondering if we could do dinner.’

‘Mmm.’

‘Don’t just make noises at me. What does that mean? Does it mean yes?’

‘Yes. Of course. When?’

‘When are you free?’

Lily was momentarily confused. ‘Um. Always?’

‘Oh, Lily, don’t make it sound like that.’ A pause, for Lily to speak, but she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. ‘How about tomorrow, then?’

‘Yes. Fine. At your house?’

‘Yes. Bring Richard.’

‘Of course.’

‘Good. See you tomorrow, then. Take care.’

‘Yes.’ A pause, before Lily remembered, and started to say ‘you too’, but Connie was already gone; a tiny click followed by an endless and impenetrable buzz.

‘I still don’t understand why we couldn’t all spend Christmas together.’

Connie was slouched in the back seat of the car, feet resting high on the seat in front of her, roughly in line with her mother’s shoulder-blades. Her mother stared out of the window and did a very good impression of not being able to hear anything. Every now and then she lifted a hand, to rub a clear patch in the condensation on the window; otherwise she was motionless.

‘Your grandfather was ill,’ Marcus said, his voice stubbornly calm. He was staring straight ahead, watching where he was going, and all Connie could see were his eyes in the mirror, dark and strangely expressionless. ‘It wouldn’t have been nice, to barge in on them when he wasn’t feeling well.’

‘They could have come to us,’ Connie said. She was aware she was being petulant. They’d been having the same argument all morning.

‘Yes, they could have done, but they didn’t want to and it would have made things difficult – ’

‘You mean Lily didn’t want to.’

‘Lily hasn’t said a word on the subject,’ Marcus said. Connie glared at him in the mirror. ‘Sorry. Bad time to try to be funny, I suppose.’

‘It would help if you were actually funny.’

‘Yes, I suppose it would.’ Marcus sighed, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel as he slowed the car to a stop
at the end of a queue. ‘Anyway, it’s nothing to do with Lily. It was me and your grandmother who made the decision, really.’

‘And no one else,’ her mother said pointedly.

‘I
asked
you whether you wanted to go for Christmas, Anna – ’

‘And I said I didn’t want to go
at all
. And yet, here I am.’ Anna was still staring out of the window, her voice utterly expressionless. Connie shifted further down in her seat, trying to make herself inconspicuous.

‘What, you’d rather not see Lily at all?’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘Well, that’s basically what you said, isn’t it?’

Anna shrugged. The car juddered slightly as it waited to resume its movement. Outside, ahead of them in the queue, someone was honking their horn. Connie tilted her head to peer through the gap between the seats, trying to see what was causing the hold-up, but she was slouched too low to see anything but dashboard and sky.

Christmas had been a strange and dismal affair. Her parents had attempted the customary festivities, but there had been a flatness in the air, a lack of enthusiasm. Connie had failed to get out of bed at the usual time – she was usually woken early by an excited Lily. She’d lain awake for almost an hour, listening to the wind stirring outside the house, before she remembered that it was traditional at Christmas for the children to drag the adults out of bed. When she’d knocked on her parents’ bedroom door she’d found them both awake, as puzzled and uncertain as she was.

There had still been presents, of course, and they had still made dinner; but, where once it would have been Anna’s job to cook while Marcus entertained the girls, Anna now seemed unable to remember what she was meant to do, and she’d left most of it to Marcus. Connie had stayed in her room until late in the morning, reading a book with the radio on low, only
stirring when she heard the sound of the patio doors slamming shut beneath her. She’d climbed off her bed and gone to the window, just in time to see her mother striding through the garden, past the lavender borders – all overgrown now, and nothing but a collection of grey-green weeds at this time of year – straight into the depths of the woodland beyond. Connie had watched her until she was out of sight, even her shadow slipping away beneath the trees, and then she’d pulled herself away from the window and joined her father downstairs.

Her mother had come back in time for dinner, and they’d made a valiant attempt at good cheer, before disintegrating into silence and stupor, and eventually retreating to separate rooms.

Connie couldn’t help thinking about what it had been like the year before, when Lily had been given a pair of roller skates and Connie had pushed her up and down the patio for an hour, trying not to let her fall off the edges on to the grass. Her mother had watched them from the kitchen window while cooking dinner, and Marcus had hovered with his camera, shouting encouragement from all sides. After dinner Billy and his father had come round, and the adults had sat around drinking wine, getting louder and more out of control. They’d forgotten to send them to bed, and Connie remembered crouching in the doorway to the kitchen, watching them, with Billy on one side and Lily on the other. Billy had whispered in her ear, ‘We could steal some of their wine; they wouldn’t even notice,’ and for a moment Connie had been excited by the prospect, until she’d realised that Lily was there – Lily who she was supposed to be responsible for – and she’d shaken her head. Instead they’d gone upstairs to Lily’s room and Billy and Connie had taken turns reading her stories until she fell asleep, twisted in her duvet, left thumb in mouth, right arm thrown out recklessly above her head. Not long after that, Billy’s dad had called him downstairs and they’d gone home.

The car started moving again, and Connie shifted so that she was upright in her seat, her feet on the floor. She could see out of the windscreen from this angle, the long line of brake lights arcing off into the distance. ‘How much longer?’

‘Depends how long the traffic lasts,’ Marcus replied. ‘Half an hour, maybe?’

‘Hurrah,’ Anna muttered under her breath.

It turned out to be almost an hour. When they pulled into the tiny terraced street lined with box hedges and rosebush borders, it was to find Marcus’s father out in the front garden, trowel in hand, squinting gloomily at the clouds overhead. ‘Looks like rain,’ he said by way of greeting, giving his son a hug and kissing his daughter-in-law on the cheek. He put an arm round Connie’s shoulders and kept it there, squeezing her gently towards him. ‘Was the journey okay?’

‘Largely uneventful.’ Marcus hoisted a large rucksack on to his shoulders, shifting awkwardly under its weight. ‘Mum inside?’

‘Yeah, she’s making lunch. Lily’s in her room, I think.’

‘I’ll go and say hi.’ He disappeared inside, Anna trailing behind like a lost child.

‘And how have you been, trouble?’ He ruffled Connie’s hair and then released her from his grip. ‘They been taking care of you?’

‘Of course.’ She looked at the ground, tracing a circle in the lawn with her toe. ‘How’s Lily?’

‘Oh, she’s fine. I expect she’ll be back home with you soon enough.’

‘Is she talking yet?’

‘No, not yet. But no need to rush these things, hmm?’ He ruffled her hair again, looked as if he might say something, and then thought better of it. Instead he turned to the nearest rosebush, which was almost as tall as Connie. ‘Have you met Fred? He’ll be on top form by June.’

She followed him around the front garden for a while, looking at shrubs on command, listening politely to the names and the histories even though she knew she would forget them as soon as she went indoors. It was something they did every time she came to visit, but she never remembered the details.

After a while it did start to rain, so they went inside, to find Anna and Marcus standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The house smelled the same as it always did: slightly dusty, slightly flowery. The scent of roasting ham skated over the top of everything else.

Her grandma stood at the hob, stirring something in a pan, and she beckoned Connie over when she saw her. ‘Do you want to try this? It should be about done. Have a taste and tell me what you think.’

She held out a spoonful of soup and Connie sipped it obediently. ‘Mmm. It’s good.’

‘Excellent. That means lunch is ready, then. Do you want to go and tell Lily?’

Connie shuffled upstairs, leaving the adults talking loudly as they pulled plates out of cupboards and set the table. The noise receded as she climbed the stairs, and was barely a whisper by the time she was outside Lily’s room. She knocked on the door, waited, and then realised she was being ridiculous: there was not likely to be any answering call of ‘come in’.

The room was almost eerily still when she pushed open the door. Lily was sitting on her bed, staring out of the window; she turned her head for just long enough to confirm that it was her sister at the door, and then turned back to the outside world. ‘Hey, Lils,’ Connie murmured, but there was no answering response.

She crossed the room and crawled on to the bed next to her sister. Lily shifted slightly to the left to let her sit down. Together, they looked down on the outside world.

The room was at the back of the house, and from the window they could see a patchwork quilt of gardens stretching out into the distance: tiny strips of land, bordered by wooden fences and hedges, joined by trees which crept over the borders and spilled into neighbouring gardens. Connie could see her grandparents’ garden, with more of Grandpa’s beloved roses trailing the pathway on either side; the neighbouring gardens, less well tended but still obviously cared for; the gardens that backed on to the ends of them, wild and unruly, allowing their untamed hedgerows to push through the fences. The rain was still falling, and no one was outside; it was a dismal picture, grey sky as far as the eye could see and droplets of water slipping down the windowpane, blurring the view.

‘Grandma said to tell you lunch is ready,’ Connie said, her voice soft in the silence of the room. Lily didn’t move, and her expression didn’t change.

‘Mama and Dad fought all the way here. I don’t think Mama wanted to come. I think – well, I think she wanted you to come home, though she won’t admit it.’

Connie watched out of the corner of her eye, but Lily still didn’t move.

‘You’d find some way to tell us if you hated it here, wouldn’t you?’

There was no response for a minute, and then Lily slid off the bed and left the room. Connie sat and listened to her soft, plodding eight-year-old’s footsteps on the carpeted stairs. She waited until they’d reached the bottom and disappeared before she made a move to follow.

Connie was surprised by how animated Lily seemed around their grandparents. She still didn’t speak, but she was noticeably more responsive – she made eye contact, she
smiled, she looked as if she was paying attention to the world around her. She barely glanced in Connie’s direction, despite the fact that they sat opposite each other; but, positioned at the end of the table, with her grandmother to one side and her father to the other, Lily almost looked like a normal child having a normal dinner with her family.

‘We’ve been working on reading and writing,’ Grandma was saying, as she pushed the bowls from their soup starter to one side, and reached for the meat in the centre of the table. ‘Lily’s getting very good at writing. She’s been writing us letters, haven’t you, Lily?’

Lily nodded, but didn’t look up. Connie watched as she pushed a slice of tomato backwards and forwards through a pile of salt. ‘You don’t need so much, Lils,’ Marcus said, but she ignored him and popped the tomato in her mouth, her eyes briefly meeting Connie’s before darting back to her plate.

‘She’s very good at maths, as well. I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about.’

‘I got in touch with the school, actually,’ Marcus said. Anna looked up, and Connie could see the surprise in her expression, though she didn’t say anything. ‘They’re happy to send out some guidelines to help you. Just some of the subject areas they’ll be working on each term, you know. Do you think that would be helpful?’

‘Absolutely. Though it depends how long you want her to stay here, obviously. There’s no point putting together a whole curriculum and then having you turn round and say you want to put her back in school in two weeks’ time.’ Grandma’s voice was firm, and Marcus looked slightly guilty.

‘Mum, you know if it’s too much to ask at any point – ’

‘That’s not what I’m saying at all.’ Connie saw Grandma’s gaze flick towards Lily, but Lily was still absorbed in her food and didn’t look up. ‘We love having her here. We love having
all
of you here,’ she added, with a pointed look at Anna. ‘But
being a teacher is a lot of work, and, as much as I enjoy it, I would like to know whether there’s a long-term plan.’

‘Wouldn’t we all,’ Anna muttered.

‘Don’t start,’ Marcus said. ‘This was as much your idea as it was mine.’

Anna shrugged, and picked sullenly at her ham, saying nothing. Connie, looking around the table, wondered whether anyone would notice if she got down from the table and didn’t come back.

‘How about we work on a month-by-month basis, for now?’ Marcus suggested. ‘That way you don’t have to plan too far ahead and we can keep an eye on Lily and see how she’s getting on.’ Marcus looked directly at Lily, as if remembering she was still there. ‘Does that sound okay to you, Lils? We don’t want to send you back to school before you’re ready, do we?’

Lily nodded, too focused on her plate to look up. Connie watched her, willing her to make eye contact, but there was no response.

‘Sounds good to me,’ Grandma agreed. ‘What about you, Connie? Have you been enjoying school lately?’

Oh, so you do know I’m here,
she thought, and then felt bad. It wasn’t Grandma she was angry with. She thought of the bruises on her ribs that were only just healing, and shrugged. They hadn’t caught her after school since that last time, but they’d become bolder in other places – tripping her up as she walked past them in the school halls, pinching her arms and pulling her hair when they sat behind her on the bus.

‘Well, secondary school’s a big adjustment,’ Grandma said, her voice gentle. ‘Especially after everything that’s happened.’

‘Maybe you’d like to look after Connie as well? Since she clearly can’t cope either?’ Anna’s voice was bitter, making Connie flinch.

‘Anna, there’s no need to be like that.’ Marcus sounded stern, parental. Connie’s eyes went to her grandparents. Grandpa was focused on eating his food, and looked as though he’d barely registered what was being said, but her Grandma was looking directly at Anna with what looked like pity.