Hawthorn (13 page)

I stride into the kitchen and start taking items out of the box.

Jules ends a call on her mobile and frowns at me. “Just spoke to Jen and she swears up and down that there was no party last night. Mary? What are you doing?”

I lift up the horseshoe. “Can you get the tool box, love?”

There are a number of reasons I love Fridays. It means another week is over and the weekend stretches out before me, filled with possibilities, including the chance I might find a literary gem in my inbox. It means that I get to spend quality time with the kids and Jules. And, finally, my favourite part is that I get to pick up the twins from school.

Jules said she was perfectly happy to do it, but I put my foot down. Being one of the top agents in the publishing business affords me some perks like being able to knock off early on a Friday.

As I stand outside the school, positioned between Elder and Hawthorn class, I glance at the other mums, some pushing buggies in their tracksuit bottoms and knitted leggings, jeans and boots, faces clean of makeup and hair tied back in messy ponytails, or tucked under hats. I feel like a fraud with my smart trouser suit, neatly coiffed hair and makeup. They gossip in their neat cliques and completely ignore me. I am invisible. I wonder what they would say if I just wandered over and joined in the conversation. Jules does it every day. She knows all their names and their kid’s names. Jules is a natural. I square my shoulders and I’m about to head over to the nearest group when Heather’s class door swings open. The teacher throws me an enquiring looks, wondering which child I’m here to collect. I resist the temptation to roll my eyes. I have been here every Friday for the past six weeks. There is no way she doesn’t know who I am.

“Heather please,” I say.

Mrs Duncan calls Heather and my little girl comes out red-eyed and upset.

I can see Danny’s class door open in my peripheral vision, but I crouch down to speak to Heather. “What’s up, baby?”

“Somebody stealed my bracelet.” She holds up her wrist which is obscured by her coat cuff, but I get the picture.

“Did you tell the teacher?”

She sniffs and nods. “Mrs Duncan said it’s not their…not their sponsibility.”

My neck flushes hot with anger. I straighten and take Heather’s hand. The class is almost empty and I push through to the front and raise my hand to catch the teacher’s eye.

I’m pretty sure I’m not mistaken. I’m pretty sure she sighs.

“What can I do for you, Ms Learmonth?”

“Heather’s bracelet’s been stolen and I was wondering what you were going to do about it?”

She folds her arms across her chest and looks down at Heather while addressing me. “There’s nothing we can do. We have a strict policy about not wearing jewellery.”

I blink at her, trying to compute what she’s saying. Just to clarify I say, “So let me get this straight. You’re saying that just because Heather wore a bracelet to school when she shouldn’t have, you will ignore the fact that you have a little thief in your class?”

Mrs Duncan looks up sharply at me, but I don’t give her a chance to speak. I continue. “You’ve decided to send the message that stealing is okay, that it won’t be punished, that just because Heather broke a rule it’s okay for this child to break another, am I correct?”

“No, that’s not-”

I raise my hand. “Did you see Heather’s bracelet before today?”

“Well yes, but-”

“Then I struggle to comprehend why you didn’t speak to either myself or my partner about the issue and ask us to remove it.”

And that’s when I see the shift in her face, when I mention Jules, when I use the word partner.

I frown. “Do you have a problem with same-sex relationships, Mrs Duncan?”

She presses her lips together, her face taking on a blank look. “My personal feelings have nothing to do with my ability to teach.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You see, I’m entrusting my child to you to be educated. By educated I mean taught to think for herself, to see the world with fresh eyes, untainted by prejudice of any kind. I will be taking this further.” I step away, taking Heather with me.

The playground is empty and I hurry over to Danny’s class. Mrs Johnson opens the door, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Is everything okay?” she asks. Her eyes are so concerned, her face so kind. I’m trembling with anger and then I burst into tears.

Elsa is wearing a pink puffy dress with green and purple diamonds on it. I think it’s my best picture yet. My pencil crayons are spread out on my bed, my special box with all my special things is open waiting for the new picture to be locked away. But even the best drawing ever won’t make the tears go away. My bracelet has gone, my special bracelet that Gemma made especially for me. I bet if Elsa had been there she would have gotten it back for me. I bet if Elsa were here she would make me feel better.

The wardrobe door creaks open. I’m too afraid to look. It’s a trick. I’m not gonna fall for that again. But then I hear the sound of her footsteps and I have to look.

She standing there in the dress, my dress, all puffy and pink with green and purple diamonds and it looks even better in real life than in pretend.

I want to hug her, but then I remember that she left me for ages and I should be cross, really cross, so I make a cross face and put my hands on my waist like I seen mummy do.

“Oh, Heather! I’ve missed you so much,” she says.

There are big shiny tears in her eyes and I can’t be cross anymore because I don’t care why she went away. I’m just glad that she’s back.

I rush over and give her the hug I’ve been dying to give her since she got here. She smells like strawberries and melon.

“Why’d you go away?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I never said that!”

She picks up my wrist. “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?” I am so confused but I’m so happy too so I don’t really care, and when she smiles at me I really don’t care ‘cos she is sooo beautiful.

“It’s almost time to be a real princess, Heather.”

I can’t breathe. I feel like I need a wee. I am so excited! “When?”

“Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night you get to be a princess. But…” She looks a little bit sad and my happy feeling starts to go away.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m not entirely sure you’re ready.”

I jump up and down. “I am! I am!”

“Okay, okay, but you have to prove it. Are you ready to do anything to be a princess?”

I nod so hard I think my head might fall off and the thought makes me giggle.

After a moment Elsa joins in.

I’m lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s an hour till dinner. I can hear Heather talking to herself in her bedroom. Danny’s watching television and Mum and Jules are doing the whisper conversation thing in the kitchen that they do when they’re talking about me.

I can’t stand it.

I went back to college today. I went back to normal; at least I think it’s normal. I mean, I did all the usual things. I patched things up with my mates and I think they’ve forgiven. They still have the party plans going so mum said I could have the party as long as she supervised, which is okay, I suppose. Honestly, I wanted to cancel the whole thing, but the guys are so excited about it I didn’t have the heart. Plus, Eloise has really outdone herself on getting a buffet sorted. I would have been happy with a few pizzas, crisps and dip, but she’s done chicken wings and sandwiches, cupcakes and all sorts. I can’t let them down.

The party will happen tomorrow night, and for some reason I’m terrified. I can’t explain it. It’s just there, all the time, under my skin like an itch that I can’t scratch. Mum’s been great. I honestly expected her to ground me or something, but she’s been surprisingly calm about everything. I can feel her watching me, though, and the odd moments when she does take her eyes off the ball and I watch her, I am certain I see the same fear that dances under my skin flit across her face.

Jules has been off with me too, but not in an, I’m-concerned-and-watching-you way, more than in an, I’m-disappointed-in-you-you-lying-ho way. I don’t know what to say because I don’t bloody remember! The only thing I’m sure of is that Sam was there. So I’ve avoided the woods, the cottage and the beach, but I won’t have a choice tomorrow. I can’t remember if I told him about the party. I hope I didn’t. I don’t want to see him. I really, really don’t.

There is a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Jules pops her head around the door. “You have a visitor.”

I sit up, surprised. I’m not expecting anyone. “Who is it?”

“Some boy.”

Sam. Ice fills my veins. I swallow. “Don’t suppose you got a name?”

“Justin.” She hovers. “Are you two…?”

I roll my eyes, revelling it the normalness of the moment. “No, he’s just a friend.” I don’t tell her that I barely know him, or that I have no idea why he’s here at my house. Instead, I slip off the bed and follow Jules down the stairs.

Justin is loitering in the hallway. I can see mum hovering in the living room, trying to act as if she’s not keeping an eye on him.

Jules hits the hallway first. “Nice to meet you, Justin,” she says and retreats to the living room. I note how she doesn’t close the door fully, a sure sign that they will be listening.

“Hi. You want a drink?” I ask. Before he can answer I lead him into the kitchen down the hall and shut the door behind us. “What are you doing here?”

He reaches into his pocket and hands me some rolled up notes. I unfurl them and count. “I forgot about this.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll have some juice if you have it.”

I grab a glass and pour him some orange juice.

“You okay, Gemma?”

My first inclination is to say, ‘yes, of course I’m fine’, but the words stick like glue in my throat. I hold out his glass and he takes it, but doesn’t drink.

“I used to live in Learmonth. We moved out three years ago after…after I went missing.”

My scalp prickles. “You went missing?”

He leans his hip against the counter. “Yeah, they found me in the woods under a big arse tree the next afternoon. I was out of it. Mum said I was babbling, scared…I don’t know. I don’t remember much. But I do remember being scared. I still don’t know what happened and it bugs me to this day. One thing I do know is that whatever it was, it was real and freaky and something to do with the Learmonth myths and superstitions.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

He sips his juice and shrugs. “I saw your face when you came back to school today, and you’ve been off since Tuesday.”

“So?”

“Tuesday night was a full moon, Gemma, same as when I went missing. The villagers say that they revel on a full moon, every full moon, and once they’ve invited you your feet find their way. When they found me I was dirty and tired and scratched and bruised, but the thing that stood out the most was my hair…it had turned white overnight. My parents moved us before the next full moon, so I never got to find out if what they said was true, but I suffered from the worst nightmares for ages. And then, just like that, they stopped. Now I think people have forgotten I ever had dark hair.”

“My mum sometimes finds the old photo albums. When she sees me in them with my dark brown hair, I can see the surprise, the confusion and then it’s gone. She tried to dye it loads of times at first, but the dye never took, no matter what brand she tried. In the end, she just stopped trying and people forgot.”

“But you didn’t…”

“And neither will you. There will be another full moon, Gemma. I just… I wanted to warn you.”

I’m not sure what I can do with this warning. I’m not sure what I can do to banish the shiver that travels up and down my spine. But for the first time since it happened, I don’t feel so alone.

“Thank you, Justin. Really, thanks.”

His neck flushes deep red and he ducks his head. “No problem. Um… I was wondering if you wanted a lift into school on Monday?”

I blink at him stupidly. “A lift?”

“Yeah, my dad bought me a car. It’s a banger, but it works. I can swing by on the way and pick you up.” He blushes again.

It’s no way near his route and we both know it, but I am so touched by the gesture that I nod dumbly.

I remember the party tomorrow. “You free tomorrow night?” I ask.

“The party?”

“You heard?”

He looks sombre, older. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to call it off at short notice, would you?”

I shake my head then pause to take in the warning in his face. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. I’ll be there.”

I walk him to the door and he turns to me before he leaves and says, “They may seem nutty, the villagers, but I did my research…after, you know, and we’re not the only ones. It’s been going on for decades, maybe longer. Just be careful.” He points up at the door, at the horseshoe mum hung a few days ago. “I see you get the idea.”