Facing the Light (25 page)

Beth closed her eyes. She could see herself as she was then, racing down through the wild garden towards the edge of the lake and then going further along the path. The boys were already in the water. They weren't supposed to be. Mark was sitting under a willow tree.

‘You were on the far side of the trees,' Alex continued. ‘Efe was shouting at Markie.'

Shut up, Markie! I'm busy. I've got to get to my trap
. Beth shivered. She closed her eyes and Efe's clear voice came to her as though he was speaking now, calling Markie to him.

‘Bloody hell, you two!' Chloë was all of a sudden there in front of her, her arms full of willow branches. ‘What are you doing skulking about in the grass ready to trip up unsuspecting people? I nearly dropped all this lot.'

Beth could have strangled Chloë. Why on earth did she have to spring out of the grass just at that very moment? Alex was already sitting up and gathering together his photographic equipment and pushing it into a bag. He was frowning. Beth put out a hand and touched him on the shoulder. ‘Don't go, Alex,' she said, and then, turning to Chloë, ‘We could say the same thing. What are
you
doing?'

‘I'm going to make a tree. Like a Christmas tree but of willow branches. A birthday tree. I'm going to decorate it and display all Leonora's presents under it. Good idea, eh?'

‘Super!' said Beth, trying to sound as enthusiastic as her cousin. ‘It'll be great.'

‘You coming up to the house?' Chloë said, already on her way up the slope towards Willow Court.

‘In a sec,' Beth said. ‘We'll follow you.'

Once Chloë was out of earshot, Beth turned to Alex. ‘I'm so sorry, Alex,' she said. ‘Do go on with what you were saying.'

‘Never mind, it was nothing really,' he said, getting to his feet. Beth stood up too and he went on, ‘Just forget about it, okay?'

‘Not okay! You can't do that, Alex, it's cruel. You've left it all dangling and unresolved. I hate it when people do that.'

‘It wasn't anything,' he insisted. ‘I was just teasing you, right? I'm sorry.'

Beth looked at him, and immediately understood two things. First, she was quite sure that Alex was going to tell her something about that day, something important. But even more urgent than telling her about it was his need to backtrack, to pretend that he was kidding, that he didn't have any secrets to share with her. He was looking really worried about it, too. Practically sweating. She said, ‘Fine, let's leave it and go up to the house.'

‘I'll see you there, Beth,' he said. ‘I've got a couple more places to shoot before the light goes.'

She could see clearly exactly how relieved he was. His shoulders relaxed and the whole set of his body altered visibly. She watched him as he strode over the grass, tall and thin, his blue denim shirt flapping loose over his trousers, the last of the sun making a kind of halo around his head. Poor Alex! He never could articulate his thoughts very well. If he'd been nearer, if he'd stayed still for a while beside her, she'd have hugged him. Hugged him, and wanted to hit him too, for being so vulnerable and so impossible at the same time. He knew something about that day, the day Markie had drowned, and Beth was willing to wait until he told her. He would tell her
one day, because he couldn't bear guilty secrets of any kind.

*

Alex's head was filled with words going round and round in circles. Oh God oh God and bugger and damn and double damn and fuck and bugger and oh God why did I ever say anything at all? This thought went through his mind as though on some kind of manic loop, some sort of never-ending tape-recording that pushed every other idea out of his head. He walked as quickly as he could, wanting to be out of breath; wanting to exhaust himself, wanting to take back every word he'd said to Beth. What had possessed him? I must be crazy, he thought. What good would it do to dredge up all that old stuff ?

He found himself outside Nanny Mouse's cottage, down by the gates. I don't want to be here, he thought. I want to be out of Willow Court and its grounds and away from every single person who lives here. He walked through the gates and strode down the road towards the village, and for once he was oblivious to the world around him. He saw nothing but Beth's face as he'd begun to talk about that day. He should never have done it. It would be perfectly natural now for her to want to know exactly what he'd been about to say.

The tumult in Alex's head subsided a little as he walked. Perhaps Beth wouldn't bring it up again. She must have noticed how distressed he was just before Chloë had popped up. Thank God she had! What he would have done, what he would have said if she hadn't, he had no idea. He could never, ever tell Beth the truth.

Alex didn't know whether Efe had ever spoken to anyone at all about what had happened to Mark. He was quite sure of one thing: his brother was convinced that Alex had seen nothing. He knew this because he'd lied from the very first moment. Even at six years old, some instinct told Alex that he had to do this.

It wasn't my fault, Alex. Was it?

He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't have shouted
.

I didn't notice. I was over there. What's the matter, Efe? What's the matter with Markie?

Nothing. Shut up. I've got to think. Where's Beth?

Gone to get Mummy
.

That was the very last time Alex could remember seeing his brother in tears. He'd been down on the ground next to Markie, cradling the little boy's head on his lap, weeping like a girl. Weeping more than any girl Alex had ever seen, before or since. Efe's face had been red and wet and his eyes swollen almost shut from all the tears.

Alex closed his own eyes to erase the picture of his big brother, his hero, the person he loved more than anyone else in the whole world, the bravest boy, stronger and more fearless than anyone else's brother, reduced to this soaked, snivelling, miserable wretch. He hadn't known what to do at the time and, even all these years later, thinking about how useless he'd been made him feel ashamed.

I was only a little boy, but still I wish I'd known what to say, Alex thought. What to do, to comfort him. We'd never been in the habit of hugging one another, but surely at a time like that I might have done. Maybe if I had, maybe if I'd told him then exactly what I'd seen and then still hugged him and told him not to cry, helped him or sympathized with him in some way, everything would be different. Efe himself might well have become a different sort of person. It occurred to Alex that perhaps it was
because
Efe had suppressed the events of that day that he had become the sort of person he was, someone who was comfortable with deception; someone who didn't allow himself to show too much affection, even to the people he loved.

As he walked, Alex worked out what he was going to
do. If Beth asked him again what he'd meant to say, he'd make something up. He could invent something, anything really, as long as it wasn't the truth. There was also the possibility that Beth would say nothing, never ask him. If she suspected that the story he was about to tell her reflected badly on her beloved Efe, maybe she simply wouldn't want to know it.

He came to a sudden stop, beside an ancient elm tree. That's it, he thought. I started telling Beth about that day because I wanted her to think less of Efe. I wanted her to love him less than she does. Alex leaned his forehead against the trunk of the elm and closed his eyes. She loves Efe too much, he told himself. That's the truth. I've always known that, really, even though I may not have admitted it to myself.

He turned and started walking back to Willow Court, not exactly sure why he was so worried for Beth. Perhaps it was because he knew that nothing good could come of her love for Efe, who was capable of hurting her in so many different ways that Alex wondered whether he needed to warn her, or whether he ought to do what he generally did and keep quiet. He tried to think of a word to describe how he was feeling and the best he could come up with was ‘uncomfortable'. Or maybe ‘churned up' was nearer the mark. Whatever he did, it would probably turn out to be wrong. Oh, bloody hell, he thought. This isn't going to be easy at all.

*

Beth glanced into the conservatory on her way upstairs to change for dinner and was rewarded by the sight of Efe, typing something on Gwen's laptop computer. She hesitated in the hall, wondering whether she should go in and speak to him and decided against it. He hated being interrupted. More than once when they were children he'd shouted at her for butting in, as he called it, while his mind was on something else. And besides, she
thought, as she made her way reluctantly to her room, I don't really want him to see me looking like this. Her hair was windblown; her T-shirt, after a whole day of heat, felt grubby to her and she was wearing no make-up at all.

I feel messy outside and inside, she thought. Alex talking about Mark like that stirred emotions in her that she mostly kept well buried. There were nights when she still dreamed about that time, but for the most part she'd managed to overlay all thought of those days with other, better memories. It was all such a long time ago, she told herself. She'd learned not to mention certain things so as not to hurt Rilla, and what she'd done was not even dare to think of them herself.

She could hear splashing noises coming from the bathroom, just down the corridor from her room. It was Douggie's bathtime and the house rang with his shouts. Beth knew that normally she wouldn't have made the comparison, but this evening she was reminded of her and Mark's bathtimes, and of how Rilla sang them the Ugly Duckling song while they fought over the yellow plastic duck and who should play with it. Beth found that she had tears in her eyes. How silly, she thought. Surely we could have had a duck each? Or maybe I was too old for a toy in the bath, or thought I was.

As she approached the bathroom, she became aware of another noise altogether. Someone was crying. It's Fiona, she thought. She was trying to be quiet, but the door stood open, and Beth could hear suppressed sobs and sniffs and, rising above those sounds, Douggie's splashing and babbling. For a split second she considered walking silently past and closing her bedroom door, pretending she hadn't heard, but then curiosity mixed with some sort of impulse to be kind made her go in.

Fiona was sitting on the low stool beside the bath, dabbing at her eyes and nose with a wodge of tissues.
Douggie was moving a little toy boat, red with a blue funnel and a jolly face painted on the prow, through imaginary waves. Fiona's face was pale and blotchy and her eyes were red-rimmed and filled with tears.

‘Fiona … sorry. Only I heard a noise and thought I'd better come in and see …' Beth's voice faded away. She coughed and said more firmly, ‘Would you like me to dry Douggie?'

Fiona nodded. ‘Would you? I feel so awful. I'd better wash my face, I think. Here's his towel. Thanks so much, Beth. I don't know what's the matter with me. It's the pregnancy, I expect, though I wasn't like this before.'

‘Come on, darling,' Beth said to Douggie. ‘Time to go and put your pyjamas on now.'

The little boy looked as though he was going to object, then seemed to change his mind.

‘Beff dry,' he said, standing up in the bath and sounding quite happy at the change in his routine. ‘Want Beff.'

Beth picked Douggie up and as he stood dripping on the bathmat, she wrapped him up in a towel and hugged him to her. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘I'll dry you. And we'll go and get you ready for bed.' She looked over the wriggling little body in her arms at Fiona who was calmer now, and making an effort to smile.

‘Thanks, Beth,' she said. ‘Take no notice, really. It all just got too much for me. Let's go to my room.'

Fiona led the way down the corridor and held the door open.

‘It's a bit of a mess, I'm afraid,' she said. ‘I haven't felt like tidying it, and Efe gets so cross …'

‘When I've dressed Douggie,' Beth said, ‘I'll give you a hand with putting stuff away.'

She prevented Fiona from saying any more by talking to Douggie in a constant stream of childish chatter. He was so like Efe and so much like Markie that Beth felt as
though someone were taking a huge wooden spoon to her feelings and mixing them together. She'd never allowed herself to love this baby wholeheartedly, unwilling to acknowledge the physical evidence of Efe and Fiona's relationship, but now she buried her nose in the soft skin of his neck and wished that this moment of closeness could last.

Beth realized that she no longer knew what she thought about anything. It was hard not to feel sorry for Fiona, but still she couldn't bear to imagine her with Efe, just over there in the double bed, without a sharp pang of jealousy and dislike. The more she tried to turn her mind to other things, the more vivid the pictures became. Think about something else, she said to herself. Talk to Fiona.

‘D'you want to talk about it? Whatever's wrong, I mean?' Beth pulled up Douggie's pyjama bottoms. I'm not saying the right thing, she thought. I wish I knew how to do this. I'm useless at it. She'd be much better off talking to almost anyone else.

‘I don't know what to say, especially not to you,' Fiona answered. ‘I mean, you and Efe are so close. I feel quite jealous sometimes when you're chatting.'

Beth looked so amazed at this revelation that Fiona smiled. ‘You didn't know that, did you? I'm sorry. It's not your fault, but I
am
stupid where Efe's concerned. I know that. I expect he'd like me to be a different sort of person, but I can't be.'

‘No, I'm sure he wouldn't,' Beth said. ‘He's devoted to you. I know he is.'

‘Has he said?' Fiona asked, and Beth could hear the desperation in her voice. She found herself lying without any hesitation.