Seas of Snow Page 8

  He knew his Da and Gracie’s Ma were off running important errands so wouldn’t be back for a while. He also knew that his Ma had organised they would have a play together when Gracie had finished her embroidery. He also knew – and this was important – that Gracie never forgot plans to play with him and if she wasn’t here, that meant something was wrong. She didn’t normally stay in the house on her own – this was a special exception because they’d promised it would only be until tea time. Billy began to feel sick.

  He remembered the last time he’d lost her. The two of them had gone into the woods for one of his special imaginary games and he had been so pleased with himself that he had planned the clever transformation of dragon to prince. He’d put together a royal posy to present to her and couldn’t wait to see her face. He just loved making her light up. Gracie was so much fun to be with – she had the sunniest smile and the brightest, forest- green eyes. She really was a princess, beautiful and brave.

  On that occasion, something had clearly scared the life out of her. She had thought she had been away, or dreaming, for days, whereas it had only been a matter of minutes. It was horribly scary for the both of them.

  They had cut a rather tragic pair coming home, none of the robust cheeriness peppering their talk as it had on the way there.

  Billy had taken it upon himself to take her out again for another game of Dragons and Princesses as soon as possible. Three days later, he seemed to recall.

  He thought it better to help Gracie confront whatever it was that frightened her, and to help her confront it together. He thought it was like one of his bad dreams, which he knew in his heart of hearts was about fear of the unknown and fear or what might happen rather than what necessarily is real or true.

  He thought maybe Gracie had seen a horrible shadow and mistaken it for something like a witch. After all, they often played witches and evil wizards and goblins and things. It wasn’t that hard to imagine a dark patch taking on the form of something scary in the mind of someone already playing magic games in the land of make-believe.

  So they went back out again, this time hand firmly in hand. Such a picture of innocence, and so happy, too. Back in those days you wouldn’t think twice about children going off on their own and playing. They were more carefree, more gentle times. Safer, warmer, cosier.

  Only they weren’t, were they …

  On that occasion Gracie and Billy had had a splashingly good time, creating a fairy tale world out of leaves and twigs. No one could make a den like Billy could.

  It had rained the night before so there were puddles everywhere and they had enormous fun splish sploshing in and out of them, pretending they were pools of liquid gold and if only they managed to splatter into all of them, the wealth of the kingdom would be theirs and they would get married and rule the land in peace and all live happily ever after.

  At one point, Gracie had a wobble, when she spotted the branch that the raven had been perched on. She pointed it out to Billy. ‘There …’ she said, ‘that’s where he was watching me from. And I knew he wanted to eat me, dig his claws into me, and hurt me. He really did, Billy, I could even smell him, it was bitter and sour and horrible. And it was like he had armour on, shiny and black. And his eyes were fierce and hard and like shining metal. Billy, his claws were so mean. He scared me and made my heart beat so fast I thought I was going to die …’

  At the memory of it, she couldn’t help but have a little sob. Billy smiled at her in sympathy and pointed out kindly that the raven appeared to be gone and that he had clearly decided to have something yummier than a Gracie for his supper.

  This made her giggle. ‘I don’t think I would be very yummy anyway, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know – let me have a munch, I’m the magic munch-monster!’ said Billy, and began chasing after her.

  She squealed in delight and ran into the clearing, letting him catch her.

  They both collapsed into uncontrollable giggles, the kind you just can’t squish down because they burple up and pop inside you. Then they tickled each other to make each other laugh even more and ended up getting lots of muddy splashes all over their clothes.

  It was a good day.

  Bells

  ‘Gracie? Are you there?’

  Billy heard his own voice echo in the hallway. He glanced again at the belt on the floor and slowly followed the steps upwards. For some reason he particularly took in the orange gaudiness of the wallpaper. What a peculiar thing to be thinking about when he had an important mission to pursue. Not just the quests of fairy tales, this one was real. He had to find Gracie. And that was that.

  He hadn’t put much thought yet into what he would do if he found her, or how he could possibly confront a real baddie, whether they were human or goblin or whatever. He just knew that he had to find her. Had to save her …

  And then he saw the embroidery, discarded on the floor.

  He became aware of a slight sloshing of water and a profound sense of relief washed over him. Oh thank goodness, she’s just washing after finishing her homework! he thought. But at the same time, the picture of the belt and the chaos downstairs was lingering in his mind and preventing the relief from taking hold.

  He crept upstairs and cried out once more, softly and ­cautiously this time: ‘Gracie?’

  Still no reply, but a pause in the sloshing of the water.

  He inched along the corridor and made out that the bathroom door was closed. That’s a bit odd, he thought to himself. ‘Gracie?’ he asked, once again …

  He paused outside the bathroom door and tried to peer in, but the key was in the lock and you couldn’t see anything.

  He listened carefully.

  His heart was pounding harder than he’d ever felt it pound before. It made his own nightmares pale into insignificance. All he could think was that Gracie was either playing silly games, or was in trouble. The silly games thing was perfectly normal but usually it only took a matter of minutes for her to burst into giggles and reveal her hide-and-seek location or show what she was up to. She couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.

  He became aware of the scent of lemons, and thought that was how Gracie always smelled. Pretty and sweet and lovely and not normal. He didn’t mean ‘not normal’ in a bad way, but he had never smelt that fragrance on other people. It was Gracie’s scent and it would always be Gracie’s scent.

  He pondered what to do. Should he break the spell and reveal he’d found her and hopefully get to the point of the game and get on with playing properly? Or should he trust his instincts, the broken vase, the belt on the floor, the console lying on the ground, and worry that something bad was happening?

  In the end, he decided to go back home and fetch his Ma. That’s all he could do. He wanted to be big and strong like his Da and John and Simon, but he was only little and he decided if Joe was to blame for the mess at the bottom of the house, and if Joe had anything to do with the bathroom being closed and Gracie not answering the door, then Billy wouldn’t be able to help much. Fetching Ma was the best thing to do. Mas always know what’s best. Especially his Ma.

  He thought for a moment about his parents. His Da was one of the only men in May Close to have survived the War. His Ma and Da were strong and good – and his two brothers were annoying at times but they were all fit and healthy and enjoying life. Poor Gracie didn’t know her father, her Ma was all on her own, and the little brother or sister she was supposed to have decided not to come into the world after all.

  He was like Gracie in some ways, though. Like her, he didn’t really have all that many friends at school. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew that he was a bit – well – different. He really did like playing make-believe, and he really did think Gracie was his best friend in the whole world. He liked helping his Ma with the cooking and stuff, and it was Billy who had given Gracie a helping hand starting her off on that embroidery. She had found it terribly difficult, having to hold the needle, so delicate and tiny. And didn’t know where to
begin threading it. She also had no clue about the different stitches you needed to know. So patiently, one day after school, Billy had spent a couple of hours showing her how to create some of the simple stitches other people seemed to find so easy to do.

  Spelling and embroidery. Not Gracie’s strong suits. But he couldn’t understand why she didn’t have loads of friends. She was just about the most special, lovely, sweet person he had ever met and he wanted them to stay friends forever.

  He rushed outside without closing the door behind him. Scarpered around the corner and blurted out to his Ma: ‘I can’t find Gracie, Ma, I can’t find her, but the bathroom door is locked and her Ma’s not back yet and there’s furniture all over the hallway and a belt on the floor …’

  He puffed out the words in rambling breaths and Mrs Harper looked at him, concerned.

  ‘Well, unfortunately your Da’s not home yet so we need to think about what we need to do. I’ll see if Mrs Armstrong’s in and we’ll go round to Gracie’s together. You, Billy, stay here.’ Billy got the impression that his Ma had no need of further explanations. She seemed to understand how serious the whole thing was.

  Mrs Harper grabbed the poker from the fireplace and dashed out to number 12. She and Mrs Armstrong made their way over to Gracie’s. Billy knew he’d been told to stay at home, but how could he let his Gracie be on her own if she was in trouble? So slowly, he followed his mother and their neighbour, and watched and waited. The women reached the front door and peeked inside. They murmured to each other and Mrs Harper called ‘Gracie, dear, Gracie darling, where are you, pet?’ There was silence. More murmuring. The suspense was killing him.

  Billy waited in the shadows, desperate to find out what was going on.

  Then, the sound of a Ford Transit van. It was Da and ­Gracie’s Ma back from their trip. There was the sound of laughter, trilling in the air, before they turned the corner and up the drive. They sounded like bells, Billy thought, how funny, their laughter sounds like bells.

  The moment they circled into view, it was clear something was wrong. The front door was open. Billy was hiding (not very well, it turned out) in the bushes outside, and Mrs Harper and Mrs Armstrong were huddled together, nervously.

  The bells in the car stopped pealing and Da and Gracie’s Ma got out. ‘What is it, Billy?’ she asked.

  ‘Why the hell have you been this long?’ asked Mrs Harper.

  Billy glanced from his Da to Gracie’s Ma and ran to them, explaining what he had found.

  Mr Harper seized control of the situation and told the ladies to wait downstairs and look after Billy. Mrs Harper shot her son a look of annoyance, quickly followed by tenderness, as if she had just remembered how awful this must be for him.

  They waited outside. And waited. Nothing.

  The silence was unbearable.

  ‘Peter?’ Mrs Harper called up. ‘Are you alright?’

  Billy scanned Gracie’s Ma’s face as it paled white and quiet. She wasn’t calling out for Gracie, all she could do was hug herself tight and watch and wait with the others.

  A stillness crept over her and the familiar greyness of the pallor he had seen in her face so often before slowly seeped back into her skin. In a heartbeat, the lightness and brightness of eyes and smiles were engulfed in shadows. It was as if he could suddenly see the ghostly traces of all the bruises and cuts she had suffered in the last few years. Her face seemed to shrink into itself, and an emotion Billy couldn’t yet discern ebbed into her being.

  The stillness continued. Then, a quiet dullness.

  His Da came down the stairs and called Gracie’s Ma over. They murmured together for a moment, and Billy craned for a better view.

  At the foot of the stairs was Gracie, wrapped in a towel, a hollow look in her eyes, staring vacantly, into the nothingness of beyond.

  Gracie’s Ma rushed in and smothered her with cuddles and kisses. Billy and his parents left, together with Mrs Armstrong.

  Gracie would continue to stare into the nothingness for a very long time.

  Blessings

  Billy became aware of how hot and wet his cheeks were and wiped the dampness away, gently. He was still holding the embroidery but his eyes had been facing the photo of the sweet twosome, pottering off into a land of leaves, trees and adventure.

  He felt a bit embarrassed, but frankly, it wasn’t the first time she had seen him cry and he felt no shame in mourning what was lost.

  A lifetime of love and joy had slowly begun to decay that day. He hated to admit it, but things did change after that.

  Gracie, who had been so thrilled to learn a few basic stitching skills, never went back to finish her embroidery. The half-­finished ‘Ma’ of ‘Mam’ became the final product. The freesias were pretty but unknotted and unfinished. Something very dark had happened in that house that day, and only Gracie knew what.

  The foam was beginning to froth up and its lovely scent wafted into the air.

  Slowly, she stepped out of her dress. She was standing there, self-conscious, just in her panties. She trembled with goose ­pimples and clasped herself tightly.

  Joe grunted. He indicated she needed to remove her underwear. A tightening inside as her heart played drums inside and her blood rushed around her body made the dizziness she felt a light and welcome relief. Perhaps if she passed out, she thought, like last time, then it will all be bearable.

  What ‘all’ was, of course, was completely unknown to her. She had absolutely no idea why Joe would have locked her in the bathroom, absolutely no idea why he would ask her to run a bath and absolutely no idea why he would want her to remove her clothing.

  She thought about her mother. A lovely, slim but curvaceous woman with a beautiful figure, a warm, rounded hip and the sort of waist you had to wrap an apron around twice. She had a placid, lovely face with full lips and the sort of eyes you could wallow in whether you were feeling happy or sad.

  She thought about her own body. A bit scrawny, but that was okay. Still hadn’t quite reached the exciting times her Ma had told her about when hair would sprout and breasts would grow.

  The only thing she had felt was that her nipples had begun to get a bit larger and harden. They were like small, rosebud points which reached out and tickled her clothing.

  Well, she was 13 now so it wasn’t that surprising.

  But she still felt a little girl inside and didn’t feel grown up yet.

  Something told her whatever happened to her today would force her to grow up, fast.

  *

  She looked at Billy, cheeks still damp and a flustered expression on his face. She took the embroidery back from him and remembered that day, herself. The belt tossed aside among the yellow china splinters; the calico discarded by childish hands on the landing upstairs. The white rose half-forgotten on the floor downstairs.

  Billy had remembered the rose, as well. After seeing Gracie cold and shivering in the half light, wrapped in her towel, he had taken in the full impact of the scene in front of him.

  Ushered home by his parents, the three of them walking back in silence, he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to his friend. And couldn’t help but take in the purity and light of the bursting blooms of the white rose bushes that populated the family garden at the front of the house.

  His Da explained that Gracie had been alone when he found her, upstairs and cold. No one else was there. He said he would go back to check whether Gracie and her Ma needed anything.

  Mother and daughter were locked in a tight embrace. Gracie shivering and sobbing, quietly. There was a tap-tap on the door, and they were relieved to see it was nothing more sinister than Mr Harper.

  He said he hadn’t been sure whether to disturb them or not – do you need help clearing things up?

  ‘Thank you for everything, Peter,’ Gracie’s Ma said. Gracie still didn’t say anything. ‘It looks like he left by the back door,’ she continued. ‘It was open.’

  The adults looked at each other as if they had a qui
et ­understanding of something important. They didn’t say another word.

  Mr Harper worked swiftly and efficiently, putting things back in order. He exchanged glances with Gracie’s Ma, but the two of them seemed to not need to speak. Gracie sat, numbly, unwilling to move or go to bed.

  When Mr Harper had finished sorting everything, he moved closer to Gracie’s Ma as if to start to embrace her, but was ­quietly brushed away.

  Gracie looked up and tried to make sense of the silent communion. Another time, Peter, her Mam seemed to be saying with her eyes. Such lovely, pond-green eyes.

  The calico had been abandoned upstairs and Gracie could never bring herself to tackle it again. Too many painful mem­ories. It would have to do, just as it was.

  The next day her Ma said she didn’t have to go to school if she didn’t want to. ‘It’s okay, Ma, I’d rather pretend everything’s normal I think. That way maybe it really will be normal again one day.’

  Her mother winced and Gracie realised she might have said something wrong. ‘I didn’t mean …’ she started … ‘It’s okay, pet, you’re right. You’re right to want things to be normal again.’

  ‘Does that mean … he won’t be allowed to come and live with us anymore, Ma? Does it? Can we make him go away?’

  Her mother fell silent and looked down at her lap. She seemed to have forgotten a question had been asked. Just sat there, staring into nothingness.

  ‘Ma? Please?’

  Still silence, and still no breaking the spell of her reverie.

  ‘Mam?’

  ‘It isn’t easy, pet. Your uncle isn’t well. I’m his family. He’s got nowhere else to go, pet. He’s a brute and a bully and his temper is like nothing else. But we’ve got to be strong, pet. I want things to be normal, too. Sweet Jesus knows how much I wish things were normal.’

  She glanced at Gracie and immediately dropped her eyes down again.

  Gracie looked at her with puzzles and questions and a million wonderings whirling around her head.