The Moment You Were Gone (34 page)

‘Hello,' he said.

‘What?' Her voice was surprisingly loud for such a small body.

‘Are you the one who's been ill?'

‘That's Polly. Come with me,' she said, took his hand in hers and yanked him over the threshold into the house.

‘But listen – sorry, I don't know your name.'

‘Phoebe.'

‘Listen, Phoebe.' He dug in his heels. ‘I've come to see your sister –'

‘I know.'

‘You know?'

‘Come on,' she said. Her fingers were hot and sticky in his and she hauled him through the dingy hall and to the carpeted staircase that led from it. Ethan could hear the sound of voices from the room to the left, but the child wasn't going to let him stop.

‘This way,' she said, turning at the top of the stairs along a short corridor, and stopping in front of a door on which a sign written in large green letters read ‘Keep Out. No Entry Without Knocking.'

Phoebe didn't knock. She kicked the door open and pushed Ethan inside. The curtains were closed and the lights off, and for a few seconds Ethan stood in the darkness, which smelt sour and close, trying to make out the shapes around him. There was a narrow bed to one side of the room, and a desk beside it, under the light grey rectangle that was the window. A wardrobe to the other side, and perhaps that was a chair or a stool.

‘Phoebe?' he said.

Phoebe had disappeared. He took a step back and a shape rose up out of the bed.

‘Who's that?' The voice was small and hoarse.

‘Sorry,' Ethan stammered. ‘You're ill?'

‘Are you the doctor?'

‘I'm Ethan.'

‘Who's Ethan?'

‘I came to visit –'

‘I don't know Ethan. Where's the doctor?'

‘I'll go now. Lie down. Go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you. I thought –'

‘Daddy! Lorna!' The figure flung out an arm and caught the glass that was on the bedside table, sending it flying with an arc of spilt liquid across the room. ‘Someone!'

The child wriggled back frantically in her bed until she was pressed against the wall.

‘It's all right, Polly. I'm going. I'm not here to harm you. Aah, please don't cry.'

‘What is it? Polly, I'm on my way.'

Ethan knew that soft, low voice. He gave a small moan and stood aside as Lorna hastened into the room and knelt at the side of her sister's bed. She didn't see him standing there, and he watched in silence as she laid her hand on Polly's forehead. ‘It's just a dream,' she was saying. ‘A feverish dream.'

‘There was a man in my room, watching me.'

‘I'm going to get a flannel for your head. You lie down again. Look, you've spilt your lemon barley. I'll get you some more. You have to keep on drinking.'

‘I want Mummy.'

‘I know. I know you do. But I'm here.'

‘There was a man.'

‘No, don't you worry.' She pulled the covers over the child and straightened them. ‘You were dreaming.'

‘No,' said Ethan. ‘Not a dream. It's me, Lorna.'

Polly gave a rasping shriek, then broke into a spasm of coughing and clutched at Lorna, who was struggling to her feet.

‘Ethan? Is that you?'

‘I didn't mean to frighten her.'

‘Ethan?' she repeated. She put a hand to her hair and pushed the stray locks back from her face, and with that one anxious, womanly gesture Ethan felt a moment of hope. ‘But what on earth –?'

‘I wanted to help.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘Who's that man? Why's he here?' Polly wailed from the bed.

‘Hush, it's all right.'

‘I said it wasn't a dream. I told you so.'

‘Is it a dream?' asked Lorna.

‘I didn't see your note.'

‘What?'

‘What's going on?' a voice asked from outside, and the door opened once more. Another girl – this time a teenager, as far as Ethan could tell – burst into the room, still in her coat, with a backpack slung over one shoulder, closely followed by Phoebe. ‘Oh,' she said, when she saw Ethan. ‘Hello.'

‘Hello.'

‘I'm Jo,' she said.

‘I'm Ethan.'

‘He was standing in my room,' said Polly, from the bed, ‘looking at me.'

‘I've just come in from school and Phoebe said the doctor was here and then I heard these terrible screams, as if someone was being murdered.'

‘I think I confu –'

‘Lorna said it was a dream. She didn't believe me.'

‘But I didn't think we were expecting the doctor and, anyway, even in the dark I can tell you're not one. Are you?'

‘No,' said Ethan.

‘No,' repeated Lorna.

‘Why did you lie to me?' asked Phoebe.

‘It was a misunderstanding. I didn't mean –'

‘Oh, well,' said Jo. ‘Never mind. You OK today, Polly?'

‘My throat hurts and my chest hurts and my glands hurt and my ears hurt and my mouth hurts and …'

‘That'd be all the screaming. You should go to sleep.'

‘I'm bored of sleeping and, anyway, when I close my eyes everything tilts and it's scary. I want to do something.'

‘Shall I read to you?' asked Ethan, who was feeling quite light-headed by now.

‘Why are you here in my room?'

‘What? Oh, well, I was in the area so I thought I'd come and see – actually, I have no idea what I'm doing here. You might as well be dreaming me. Or I'm dreaming you.'

Lorna came and stood by his side, close enough so that if he reached out he could stroke the soft shine of her hair or take her slender hand in his. ‘He's my friend,' she said to Polly.

‘He still shouldn't just turn up in my room like that.'

‘Sorry.'

‘OK, then.'

‘Thank you.'

‘No. I mean OK, then, you can read to me.'

‘Polly –'

‘No, I'd like to,' said Ethan. ‘Can we turn on the light?'

‘Only the small one or it hurts my eyes.'

Ethan went to her bedside, feeling bulky and shy, and bent down to turn on the shaded lamp on the desk. The light dazzled him momentarily so that when he turned he only saw the other sisters as silhouettes. Then their shapes resolved and he found he was gazing at Lorna at last. She looked small – smaller than Jo, who seemed tall and strong and glowing with health – and almost plain. Her hair was pulled back in a crooked ponytail; she was wearing no makeup or jewellery and her face was tired, with purple smudges under her eyes. She was wearing old jeans and a grey man's sweater with the sleeves rolled up. Her feet were bare. Ethan thought he had never seen anyone so purely, simply lovely in his entire life and it was all he could do to prevent himself kneeling at her feet.

‘Oi! What book are you going to read me?'

He sat carefully beside the girl in the bed, his back to the others. Her hair was greasy and her cheeks blotchy; her eyes glittered at him. ‘What do you want me to read?'

‘Dunno.'

‘How old are you?'

‘Ten.'

‘Double figures.'

‘How old are you?'

‘Nearly twenty.'

‘Well, then. That's twice me.'

‘Exactly. How about this?' Ethan took a book from the top of a pile by the bed.

‘OK.'

Ethan started to read, intensely conscious of Lorna standing by the door. The book was some kind of fantasy
set in sinister marshes and peopled by all manner of strange beasts with complicated histories and long names, and very soon he lost track of it. He spoke the words, but his thoughts wandered. He heard when Jo and Phoebe, whispering to each other in piercing hisses, then Lorna left, pulling the door to with a muted click. He heard footsteps going down the stairs. He heard voices. Shortly after that a beam of light swept through the window and a car pulled up outside in a crunch of gravel. He read about poisoned berries and girls with the power to know people's thoughts, about babies with wings curled up at their shoulder-blades and dogs with red eyes and dripping tongues. A faint, rasping snore stopped him and he put down the book. Polly's mouth was slightly open and a tiny trickle of saliva had worked its way down her chin. With the hem of his shirt, he wiped it away, then stood up, pulling the duvet so that it covered her shoulders. He turned off the light and tiptoed from the room.

For a moment he stood on the landing. A man's voice was coming from directly below him, and, a bit further off, the sound of a TV: canned laughter. He went slowly down the stairs, into the tiled hallway, then hesitated outside the door where he could hear voices.

‘Is he staying the night, then?' the man asked.

Ethan knocked and pushed open the door on to a large kitchen, festooned with wet sheets. Lorna was sitting at a wooden table, chopping onions and her father was opposite her, struggling to open a bottle of wine.

‘Hello,' said Ethan. He saw that Lorna had changed into a white shirt and brushed her hair. There were earrings hanging from her lobes. She had put gloss on her
lips. I hardly know her, thought Ethan. I've only talked to her a few times. What am I doing here? He hardly dared to look at her.

‘You must be the mystery visitor who's created such confusion in the house.'

The man examined him with Lorna's eyes; Ethan tried to hold his gaze. He was solid and rumpled, wearing a shabby cardigan over an unironed shirt over a T-shirt ripped at the neck, and slippers on his feet. His hair, silvering at the temples, was past his collar.

‘I'm Ethan.'

‘Jonathan Vosper. We weren't expecting you.'

‘No. Well, you see, I'm a friend of Lorna's from university and when I happened to find myself in the area I thought it would be nice to – you know – drop in and see how she – you, I mean, I don't mean to talk about you in the third person like that, Lorna – to see how you were … I didn't mean to intrude.'

‘Don't worry. We're glad you just
happened
to find yourself in the area,' said Jonathan Vosper, with a snort of laughter.

Blushing furiously, Ethan stammered something incomprehensible.

‘Do you like curry?'

‘Curry? Yes. I love curry.'

‘Hot?'

‘Very,' said Ethan, bravely.

‘Hot,' said the father to Lorna. ‘We'll have it very hot. Suicide curry.'

‘Am I staying?'

‘Aren't you?'

‘Lorna?' said Ethan, summoning up his courage. ‘Am I staying?'

She looked gravely up at him and a surge of joy passed through him. Of course he knew her. He had known her from the moment he had first seen her.

‘I don't know,' she said.

‘It was under my clothes. My room's such a mess.'

‘Do you like Monopoly?' asked Jonathan Vosper.

‘No. I hate Monopoly. Lorna?'

‘Pity. I thought we could all play a game before supper. It's been ages.'

‘Will you come for a walk with me, Lorna?'

‘It's dark outside and Lorna's making curry for us. We've been living on baked potatoes and pasta.'

‘Lorna?'

‘Yes,' she said. She stood up and rinsed her hands under the tap, dried them thoroughly, then put them on her father's shoulders. ‘I'll play Monopoly after supper, Dad. All right?'

‘You'll get cold.'

‘You have a glass of wine,' she said.

‘The curry.'

‘I'll be back.'

‘But …'

‘Dad!'

He grimaced and rubbed his craggy face. ‘Sorry.'

Ethan followed Lorna out of the kitchen and into the hall. She pulled a jacket off a hook and put it on, then handed him a thick moleskin one.

‘Where are you two going?' Phoebe was standing at the top of the stairs.

‘For a walk.'

‘It's dark. You won't be able to see anything.'

‘We know that.'

‘Can I come too?'

‘No, you can't,' said Ethan, opening the front door and feeling the cold air biting through him.

‘You're not a doctor.'

‘I know.'

‘So you can't tell me what to do. I wasn't talking to you anyway. Lorna?'

‘No,' said Lorna.

‘But –'

They closed the door on her rising wail.

They walked side by side but not touching, until they could no longer see the house, where faces might be pressed to the windows. Now they were out of range of the light it threw, and on the narrow road they were in darkness. The sky was clear and pricked with silver, but there was no moon. Trees leant in from either side like shadows. Ethan listened to the sound their feet made. He listened to the wind in the trees, like waves breaking on the shore. He listened to his heart thudding. Soon, he would have to say or do something, and the hope that was making his knees weak and his stomach liquid and his breath shallow and ragged would turn into a more certain, solid emotion. But for now he walked dreamily beside Lorna, not looking at her but feeling her figure beside him, moving like a dancer's down the road.

‘Lorna,' he said at last. ‘I – Tell me if I'm a fool.'

‘You're a fool,' she said.

‘I found your note under my stuff by the door. I didn't
see it until a few hours ago. I didn't have your number and I called Harry and he said it was over between you and then I went to your room and someone said you were with your family and I just – I just had to – I had to find you, and I went to the station and I got the train and I came here, and I know your family probably thinks I'm mad and you probably think I'm mad too, and maybe I am a bit mad because I'm so much in love with you every bit of me hurts and aches and burns and if you don't put your arms round me soon I'm going to fall over or start to cry. Please.'

‘You don't need to cry,' she said. ‘Or fall.'

She put one hand on his shoulder and turned him towards her. In the gloom, they stared at each other. He could see her soft dark hair, her eyes, the pale column of her neck. He put out his hand and with one finger touched her cheek. ‘You're not just a dream?'