Gone (21 page)

“No one apart from you.” I sigh a little to hide the grin I want to break out over the fact we seem to be having an argument about pasties, of all things. “Okay you have had one. Can we go to the bakers now before they sell out of the bloody things?”

“Fine.” With her words she starts marching down the high street.

“Bex,” I shout after her. “It’s this way.”

Bex turns on her heel and stomps back along in the direction I am pointing. “It’
s Rebecca,” she retorts.

I can’t help myself I just laugh loudly and break into a jog to catch up with her. I am so distracted by her stroppy little hip swinging walk, and the laughter that is bubbling inside my chest that I don’t even register the words before they are out my mouth and hanging in the fresh Truro air. “I’ll make sure to tell our kids that our first row was about a pasty.”

Bex stops her stress walk and comes to a halt her back turned towards me. I am expecting a retort, a classic one line Bex comment but she picks up her feet and starts walking again.

I fall into step at her side and we walk in silence to the bakers. I head in first and she follows me through the door. “Wow, that’s a load of cakes,” she says.

The bakers is full of freshly made cakes in every size and flavour you can imagine. “That’s why I brought you. It wasn’t all about the pasties.” I smile at her and wait to see her reaction, she hasn’t looked at me since I made the ‘Children’ booboo.

“Can I have a cake as well as a pasty?” Her eyes gaze up and down the counter. I so know which one she wants to get, her eyes light up as she spies an enormous Chelsea bun dripping with icing and crowned by the biggest cherry I’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, and breakfast,” I say maneuvering myself closer and touching my arm against hers.

Turning my attention to the lady behind the counter I start to reel off our order. “Two giant sausage rolls, two Chelsea buns, two Cornish pasties and two cups of coffee.”

“For you and whose army, love?” the lady asks.

“Oh just me and her.” I reach my hand to Bex and link my fingers through hers. 

“Day trip is it?” she asks.

“Yep, to the end of the earth.”

The lady glances up at the clock behind the counter. “You’d better get running along then, my dearie.”

“Yes you are quite right, we had.” I agree handing her a twenty.

She then spends five minutes counting out my change into the palm of my hand. This is the Cornish idea of ‘better get running.’ Nothing is ever a rush.

Once I have my change safely in my pocket and made it out of the shop I guide Bex to the cathedral. I have no idea why I think she will like it, I just do. I am not wrong. As we walk along the river that runs alongside the landmark she does not say a word. Her gaze is on the tall spires piercing the sky and I am happy to watch her take it all in. She does not even notice when I leave her standing there and sit on a bench.

“It’s beautiful.” She turns her gaze to find me and realises that I am not standing next to her. I grin as I wave at her and she walks towards me. She looks almost abashed that she has been caught out enjoying something of beauty.

“It’s even more breathtaking inside.” I say.

“Think I can see?”

“We could try the door?”
I don’t reckon it will be open but I guess there is no harm in trying.

By some miracle, and no that is not a play on words the door is open. I soon realise why when I see a printed note on a wrought iron stand announcing ‘Morning Prayer.”

“Want to go in?”

Bex gives a miniscule nod of her head and we walk into the cool shadows of the church. Bex automatically looks up at the arched stone vaulted ceiling. “Wow.”

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” I ask, but I am not looking at the church I am gazing at her as she stands on the spot and spins slowly taking in the stained glass and the sheer expanse of space above and around her.

I head towards a pew and she follows me in and for the first time I take my eyes off Bex and absorb our surroundings. There are about twenty people scattered throughout the first few pews. I am surprised about the amount of people out early in the morning with their heads bowed in prayer. But then maybe my cynicism has come from the fact that I no longer think there is anyone to talk to out there. I turn my head to Bex to comment on this but notice that her head is bowed down and her lips are moving with words that are not reaching my ears. I don’t see at first because I am so surprised by her action, but after I have been concentrating on her still form for a few moments I notice splotches of wet spread on the crotchet stitching of her vest top. 

Tears.

The girl made of the sun is crying in a church on what was supposed to be our fun day out together. That’s a backfire of note.

I want to touch her, hug her, talk to her but I don’t do any of those things. Instead I slide off the bench and walk back towards the door and the sunlight outside leaving Bex to her silent conversation.

It’s only a few minutes later when she steps back out into the courtyard walking towards me with a neutral expression. “You’re right it’s a beautiful town.” She smiles and instantly the atmosphere around me brightens.

I open my mouth and words just fall out of it again. “There is a Uni here you know?”

Bex’s forehead squeezes into a frown and she gives her head a little shake. “Did you buy breakfast earlier?”

Well that’s one way to change the conversation.

“Yeah, come on, let’s eat and drive otherwise we will never get to our destination.”

“Just where is our destination exactly?”

“You will see soon.”

And with that we walk back to the car park. I link my fingers through hers again but this time she does not clasp mine back, at least not as tightly as I would like.

Finally we reach our first stop, well the second stop if you include the teardrop inducing visit to Truro Cathedral. I crank Daisy’s handbrake and swivel in my seat to face Bex. She has barely spoken the entire journey.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“What for?”

“For taking you somewhere that upset you.”

This is not what I mean. What I mean is that I am sorry for whatever it is that makes her cry, or get drunk enough to want to be washed out to sea. I’m sorry for mentioning the local Uni and hinting at the fact that she could stay. You know if she wanted to.

“Oh that.” She waves her hand at me. “I always cry in church, always have done since I was little.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well in that case I am not sorry at all.”

“Prick a dick.”

“Do you practice your rhyming?”

“Five minutes every day.”

“You should make it ten.”

We both stare at each other for a moment before her lips start to twitch at the corner and I lean forward and kiss the tick. “Come on, I promised you the end of the world, now I’m going to take you there.”

“Really here? I thought you were making reference to a sexual mind blowing move you were going to make.”

I shoot her a wink. “Later,” and then take great delight as she flushes beetroot.

Bex opens the door and steps out slamming it with a resounding bang behind her.

Stroppy!

I can’t help myself. “Promise not to throw yourself off a cliff?”

“Promise not to talk to me then?”

I pretend to weigh up the option. “Done.” I start to walk away and head towards the footpath past the tourist trap pub sitting right in the middle of the view.

Bex does not say anything, but I can hear her flip flops flapping behind me so I know she is following my path. I head down right onto the rocks and then start to jump from one to another. The flip flops stop.

“You coming?” I call over my shoulder.

“I’m sorry. What?”

I turn and face her. She is peering over the edge of the rocks. It’s a long way down.

“Are you coming?” I hold out my hand to her but she ignores it and jumps for the rock. Defiance radiates off her. The girl made of the sun is more of a challenge than I ever would have guessed. I honestly don’t know where I stand with her. This morning we were giggling and snuggling, now she is this independent beam of light that seems to be trying to repel me. Not that it is working. It makes me want to move closer.

I resist the urge, and sit down on the rock. “Welcome to Lands End.” I wave my hand at the sea and rock formation in front of us, the most southerly point in the British Isle’s. “Or as I like to call it – The World’s End.”

Bex does not say anything her face is turned out to the sea and her shoulders are rigid. I know not to push. Whatever it is that is making her act this way it’s brewing under the surface and I can sense there is a battle taking place inside of her.

Instead of touching her which is what I really want to do I sit and listen to the waves crash onto the rocks and the deathly silence between us.

It doesn’t last long.

“You know I am leaving, Joshua, don’t you?” She doesn’t look at me with her question, her gaze is focused on the tide.

Yeah I know she is leaving. I also know that I really don’t want her to. I also know that she is the only good thing I have found in what seems like an age and what I once thought would be forever. I clamp my lips shut and wait for her to continue.

“The thing is, I can’t stay. Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”

“Why?”
Ugh, I need to touch her.
I place my fingertips on her elbow, just the lightest of caresses. Her back straightens in response.

“Two years ago Emily started High School, the same one as me.” Her eyes remain focused on the sea as she starts to speak.

“Yes?” I can’t see where this is going. All siblings go to the same school. I used to hate it when I was growing up because I never had a brother to make the trip to school with.

“Nothing happened at first. It was all normal. I was in a good place, doing okay, top sets in most subjects and working towards my exams. I had a boyfriend and friends. It was all normal. . .” Her voice trails off.

I want to ask more but I hold it back, I just concentrate on the feel of the skin of her elbow against my fingers.

“One day, it was last period and the class was really lively. It was chemistry, which I never really understood. Everyone was messing about with the Bunsen Burners. Suddenly the fire alarms started going off, and you know what it’s like, we all trooped out onto the playground to get into line.”

I have the most terrible tightening in my stomach with her words. It feels like a cold shiver seeping into my abdomen. I still don’t say anything.

“I thought some idiot had set fire to those wooden prodder things you use in science but as we walked towards our line I started to hear rumours that someone was on fire. I didn’t really understand at first but I soon noticed everyone was looking at me. I don’t really know what made it click but before I knew what I was doing I was looking for Emily. Her class line was right over the other side of the playground so I ran over there. Matt, my boyfriend, came with me, but I couldn’t
find her.”

Bex still is not looking at me. Her shoulders are squared and her head upright as she visualises the scene in her mind. When she starts to speak her voice is quieter. “I couldn’t find her, I started to panic and scream her name. Her whole class was staring at me, some of them looked shocked. There were a group of three girls who saw me coming and turned their back towards me. I didn’t even register it at the time. I ran into the school and straight for the lower level where Emily’s classroom was. She still wasn’t in there, then I noticed the school secretary running down the hallway towards the girl’s toilet and I followed her and went through the door.”

Bex stops again and takes a deep breath, a breath that she holds for the longest moment before allowing it to exhale. I edge myself closer so that the skin of my arm is touching hers.

“Emily was in there, the sports coach and the Head
Mistress were in there too, they had Emily’s head under the sink tap and water was spraying everywhere. I started to shout at them to stop, wondering what the hell they were doing, then the smell hit me. Burning. It felt unreal but I walked up to the sink and looked at Emily. She was crying silently half of her hair gone and her scalp bright red.”

“Shit.” It’s the first word I have to say but it is not the one I really want to use. I slide my arm around her and lean her into me with her back resting against my chest. Her breathing is ragged and I hate myself for making her drag all this stuff back up. Along with that I feel a deep burn of anger inside me.

“I went with her to the hospital. She didn’t speak once the whole way. The doctors said she was in shock. They also said that the Head Teacher and other teacher had saved her scalp with their quick action. She only has the tiniest scar now. She was incredibly lucky.”

“What happened then?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing?”

“She wouldn’t tell who did it. She admitted that she had been bullied since the start of school, just petty stuff first, someone asking for money, pushing in the corridor, scribbling on her stuff, all pretty minor, I think it was probably quite often, but she would never tell us who had set fire to her hair.”