Butterfly Summer (21 page)

“‘
One more dive!
’ she shouted, running back towards the lake. I’ll never forget the sight of her tearing through the grass, her beautiful hair flying out behind her. I’ve been haunted by that moment for the past twelve years. It was the last time I saw her alive. She dived into the water, half twisting round to make sure I was watching. It put her off her stride, she went in at an awkward angle. She must’ve hit her head on a rock. It all happened so fast.

“I didn’t realize at first. I thought she was up to her usual antics, staying under to give me a fright. I waited and waited. It felt like hours...and then it dawned on me that something was wrong. That she wasn’t coming up. I was all alone, Becky, I didn’t know what to do. I ran down to the edge of the lake and lowered myself into the water. It was so cold, colder than anything I’d ever experienced. I tried to move towards her but my feet got tangled in the weeds. They were everywhere, snaking round my legs, dragging me down. I could feel myself sinking. I tried to steady myself, pull my feet free, but I was so huge and heavy it was impossible.

“Everything went dark for a moment. I was fighting for breath. I could see where she was but I couldn’t reach her. Too much time was passing. It was a nightmare. I called out to her, told her to hang on, that everything was going to be okay, but she wasn’t moving. She was too still. I screamed at her to move – I knew I was losing her. I screamed and screamed. That’s the last thing I remember before I lost consciousness.

“I woke up in hospital. They told me a man had been out walking his dog, near to the lake. He didn’t actually see Rosa May dive in, but he heard me screaming. He was very strong; a confident swimmer. He managed to haul me out, but by the time he got to Rosa May, by the time more help arrived – the ambulance and paramedics – it was too late.”

Her voice broke and she hugged me tighter, rocking me back and forth.

“Poor Rosa May,” I said, shuddering. “All alone in the water. She must’ve been so cold.”

“At first we each blamed ourselves,” said Mum. “Your dad thought it was his fault for not following her after the row, but I knew it was mine for not saving her when I had the chance. I replayed those moments in the water over and over, as if they were stuck in my brain on some awful loop. We tore ourselves apart. It was like all the lights had gone out. You were the only thing that kept us going, Becky, the thought of a new life.

“You came two weeks after the funeral; the midwife said it was the stress. You came so fast there was no time to get your dad. He was down here by the lake. He spent every day here; sometimes he even slept here, all night, by the lake. He tried to come to terms with what had happened but he couldn’t. He went a bit mad, to tell you the truth. Mad with grief. He started to blame me. He said I’d put our unborn baby before Rosa May.”

I twisted round to look at Mum. “But that’s what Rosa May said on the bridge. She said you chose me over her. She hates me, you know.”

Mum cupped her hands around my face. “Please, Becky. I want you to listen to what I’m saying. There
is
no Rosa May – not any more. It’s been a difficult time for you. Moving to Oakbridge, spending so much time alone, all these weeks with nothing to do – it’s unsettled you. It’s my fault. I should’ve noticed things weren’t right but I’ve been so wrapped up in my own grief and misery. Being back here must’ve triggered off some old memories in you – things you overheard us say when you were a little girl, before your dad left.”

“So is that what happened?” I asked, desperately trying to follow Mum’s story. “Is that when my dad left?”

“He couldn’t cope, Becky. He loved you, but it was difficult for him to be with you. It wasn’t your fault. It was just too much – a new baby when he’d just lost his precious Rosa May. He set up a fund in her memory. He wanted to build a memorial, but the idea grew into this place, the Butterfly Garden. He organized it all himself. He was so immersed in it, he didn’t have time for us. There was this rock – the butterflies loved it because the stone was so warm. He said it was the only place he felt close to her. The only place he wanted to be.”

“Butterfly Rock,” I murmured.

“Yes, that’s right. Butterfly Rock; or ‘Rosa May’s Rock’, as he began to call it. I couldn’t come to the Garden myself – it was too painful – but he couldn’t stay away. We argued night and day. I wanted him to spend more time with me, more time with
us
, but when I asked him, he would stare right through me as if I wasn’t there.

“He did try to take you swimming a few times, at the leisure centre, but you hated it. He forced you to go in but you’d scream blue murder. He didn’t understand. He wanted you to be like Rosa May. One day I heard him calling you his ‘little Rosa May’, and that’s when it all blew up. We had the most terrible row and he said he couldn’t carry on, that he was going away. He went travelling, all the way to Australia. His family were already living there – his parents and his sister – so that’s where he stayed.”

There was a huge lump in my throat; it was totally clogged up. No wonder the pool felt so familiar... But the thought of Dad wishing I was Rosa May, it was just so sad.

“What about us?” I said. “When did we leave Oakbridge?”

“Not long after that. You were about two-and-a-half. I needed a fresh start. I couldn’t cope with all the memories and everyone knowing. You know what it’s like around here. I knew what people were thinking – how could a mother let her own child drown? But I swear to you, Becky, I did everything I could to save her. And I kept meaning to tell you, but the more time went by, the harder it became. I wanted to protect you from the past. I didn’t want you to feel as if you were growing up in Rosa May’s shadow – or to blame yourself for what happened.”

“Is that where he is then?” I whispered. “My dad? In Australia?”

Mum took a deep, shaky breath. “That’s where he was until a few months ago, but he’s on his way home, Becky. He wrote to me shortly before we moved, to say he was planning to come back to Oakbridge and that he wanted to see you. That’s why I came back. I wanted to give you both a chance to get to know each other properly. I had this idea that if we were living here too, then perhaps we could be a family again. I thought enough time had passed, that I was strong enough to face up to what happened, but I’ve found it so painful.”

My mouth dropped open. My dad was on his way home to see me.

“I can hear the ambulance,” said Mum, twisting round to look over her shoulder. “They’ll need to check you over. You’ve had a terrible shock.”

Two men came running across the field, carrying a big bag. They told me their names were Nathan and Danny. They wrapped me in a blanket and asked me loads of questions, but it was impossible to concentrate. I didn’t need to spot the Silver-studded Blue after all. My dad was coming home.

“They want us to go down to the hospital,” said Mum, helping me to my feet. “Just to make sure your lungs are okay, that you didn’t take in too much water.”

I shook her arm off. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to find Rosa May first.” Mum opened her mouth but she didn’t say anything. “I mean it, Mum. I’m not leaving until I’ve said goodbye.”

I sensed she was there before I turned round. She was on the bridge, watching us. She looked different. Faded. As if the lake had finally drained the life out of her. I wasn’t scared any more. I knew she couldn’t hurt me. I understood. She’d never meant to hurt me in the first place; she was just lonely and angry. Angry that her life had been cut so short.

“I’m here, Rosa May,” I said, shrugging off the blanket, running onto the bridge. Running towards my big sister. I put my arms around her and pulled her close, stroking her hair. I thought of the photo, of Rosa May as a newborn baby wrapped in that pink blanket, and I pulled her even closer.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find the Silver-studded Blue,” she whispered.

“It doesn’t matter. We found each other instead.”

“I love you, Becky. I never meant to frighten you. I just wanted you to stay with me. I’ve been so lonely.”

“I love you too. I’ll always love you. So does Mum. She never stopped loving you, not for one second.”

“I know,” she wept, silent tears coursing down her face. “I heard her.”

We stood on the bridge, clinging onto each other for the last time. She felt light, as if the air could pass right through her. She was disappearing, slipping away.

Mum took a step towards me. “Come on, Becky, the ambulance is waiting,” she called.

“I’ve got to go,” I said, holding her even tighter.

She laced her fingers through mine so that it was impossible to see where her hands started and mine ended. “Thank you, Becky. Thank you for this summer, for helping me. I’ll never forget you.”

“I’ll never forget you either, Rosa May.”

Mum came up behind me then. She put her hand on my shoulder and led me down off the bridge. I looked back but Rosa May was gone. There was a small splash and then a ripple. It spread right across the lake.

“Bye-bye, Fish,” I whispered. “I love you.”

Once Mum started talking, she didn’t stop, like a switch had been flipped. She talked all the way to the hospital and all the way back, and the more she talked, the more animated she became. She’d spent the last ten years keeping everything locked up inside – she said it was the only way she could cope with the pain. But as she told the story of those awful years, it was as if she was slowly coming back to life.

They kept us at the hospital for ages. They were worried that Mum wasn’t well enough to look after me; they said they were concerned for my welfare. Pam was there and she wanted to know how I’d ended up in the water in the first place when I couldn’t swim. I didn’t tell them about Rosa May. I didn’t say much at all; I left all the talking to Mum, and she somehow managed to convince them that we’d be okay.

“I know I’ve let you down,” she said on the way home. “Keeping Rosa May secret, hiding everything from you – it was the worst thing I could’ve done.”

“You didn’t know,” I said. “You were only trying to do what you thought was best at the time. But there is one thing I don’t understand. Didn’t I ask you about my dad after he left? Didn’t I wonder where he was?”

Mum sighed. “Of course you did. You asked every day for a while – it broke my heart. But then we moved ourselves, and you started nursery, made new friends, and it was as if you’d left him behind. You stopped asking where he was and when he was coming back, and then one day I heard you tell one of your friends that you’d never met your daddy. Explaining that you
had
met him, but that he’d left you, just felt too cruel. I know it was wrong now,
so
wrong, but it seemed the kindest way at the time.”

The house was a state, especially the kitchen. There were newspaper cuttings and pieces of puzzle everywhere. It was hard to believe that only a few hours earlier we’d been standing there screaming at each other. It seemed like ages ago, days even.

“I’m sorry about the puzzle,” I said. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I was so scared and angry.”

Mum turned me round by the shoulders and led me out of the kitchen. “Please don’t say sorry, Becky. I don’t care about the puzzle. I only started doing them after Rosa May died as a way of numbing the pain, but I don’t need to do that any more. I’m going to make you a hot, sweet drink and tuck you up in bed and then I’m going to get this mess cleared up.”

I had the best sleep I’d had since moving to Oakbridge. I didn’t dream about Rosa May or my dad, but in a weird sort of way I felt they were both close by. My dad was due back in Oakbridge any day, and I realized, as I lay there, that my falling-asleep dream might actually turn into reality. “
Becky Miller, I’ve been searching for you for the last twelve years!
” I whispered to myself in the dark.
It’s okay, Dad, better late than never, eh?

I woke to the smell of bacon and eggs.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Mum said when I went down. “It’s nearly midday, you know. I’m so pleased you slept in. You really needed it.”

The kitchen was spotless. Mum had opened all the windows and she was standing at the stove, wearing one of her pretty summer dresses.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.” She handed me a plate piled high with food. “Why don’t you invite Laura up to stay? Maybe next weekend? Or the weekend after that?”

“I’m not sure, Mum. I haven’t heard from her all that much since we got here.”

Mum sat down at the table with me. “Well, have a think about it and let me know. I can call her mum if you’d like? Oh, and when you’ve finished eating there are some things I want to show you. In my bedroom.”

Mum had laid out a whole load of stuff on her bed. There was the wooden jewellery box, the diary I’d found in the shoebox, some photos and a letter. She opened the jewellery box first and pressed the tatty piece of fabric into my hands.

“I want you to have this,” she said. “Rosa May made it for me when she was ten. For Mother’s Day. I thought she’d forgotten, you see. The whole day passed and she didn’t give me a card, or make a fuss of me, or even say Happy Mother’s Day. I was quite hurt. I remember I said to your dad that just a card would’ve been nice, but then when I went up to bed I found this lying on my pillow. She’d waited all day to surprise me. That was just typical of her.” Her eyes filled with tears but she picked up the diary, determined to carry on.