The Ballerina and the Revolutionary (21 page)

‘No, I’m taking the week off. There’s a number for anyone who wants to contact me urgently. I’ll deal with those people, but really I just want time to reflect, to remember ...’ His voice trailed off.

‘Do you work?’ Anna asked me.

I couldn’t think of a decent answer. I sat, fiddling with my hands in my lap. The portraits I sketched for tourists, they were work, but I’d hardly touched my charcoals since arriving back in Bristol. Too many distractions drew my attention away from expressing my creativity. ‘I guess I sell the pictures I draw.’

‘Ooo, I’d love to see some of your work,’ Anna said, squeezing my forearm. ‘I never had the eye for it myself.’

‘I’ll sketch you tomorrow, if you like,’ I answered. ‘I’d paint you, but I don’t have any paints right now.’

‘Do you prefer to work in oils or watercolours,’ Clive asked.

‘It’s been a long time since I’ve used either. Oils are more fun, but watercolours are more within my budget.’ My hands and feet itched. I wanted to sprint out of the room, grab as much of my work as I could find and throw it at the feet of Anna and Clive like offerings to my gods, but worried it might seem too needy and self-involved, so instead I snuggled further back into the sofa, nesting between my sibling and potential-future-father-figure, feeling happy.

Scott sat alone on the armchair with his feet tucked beneath him and seemed very serene. I wanted to be able to accept and enjoy things like he could. People were chatting around me, possibly to me, but I didn’t hear them. I closed my mind off and concentrated on the feelings inside - my beating heart and the blood pulsing through my veins, rushing around my body, the breath entering and leaving my lungs and the way a hair tickled my forearm as it grew. I felt warm, soft and empty, yet full. It was a strange, conflicting feeling that didn’t settle me at all. I looked at Scott again. He seemed distant, his eyelids heavy. He was probably just falling asleep.

‘Crow, if you’re tired maybe you should go to bed, dahling.’ Clive nodded towards Scott’s sleeping body. ‘Maybe you should take him with you.’

‘Clive, stop it. Don’t embarrass her.’ Anna patted my hand. ‘Maybe you should go upstairs though. It’s been a long day.’

‘Will you stay here tonight?’ I asked Anna.

She shook her head. ‘No I’ll go back to Clive’s tonight, but we can come back tomorrow. Maybe we could discuss the house and what we want to do. Do you think we should ask Tomas to join us?’

‘I dunno. I guess ... we’ll have to at some point. It’s just ... to be completely honest ... it's Cathy. I don’t wanna deal with her yet.’

Anna and Clive stood up. Anna bent over to sort out her handbag and Clive gave me a kiss. He nodded towards Scott and smiled. ‘Maybe get him a blanket if he’s staying down here.’

I embraced Anna and kissed both her cheeks before they left. I smoked a final cigarette in the kitchen and took a blanket from Tomas’s old bed and draped it gently over Scott’s body. He had curled himself up so his head rested on his knee. It looked uncomfortable and I wondered whether I should wake him to move, but decided not to disturb his rest. He was probably supple enough to get over it tomorrow. I turned off the light, blew Scott a kiss and retreated upstairs.

43

In spite of relentless searching, sleep evaded me and I lay in my bed, willing my mind to switch off for a few hours. Instead my thoughts kept returning to the living room and Scott, asleep in my house. Eventually, I did manage to grab a few hours of sleep. I wrapped my arms around it and pulled it tight across my face and chest, entering dreams that were as full of Scott as my waking thoughts. I was back in the woods. Leaves lay scattered on the ground and he was there, lying in a nest of yellow and orange oak leaves. Between the leaves I caught glimpses of his pale flesh. I wanted to join him, to roll in the leaves together, laugh and tickle his skin, but when I touched his shoulder and he opened his bright eyes and stared at me, I kissed his feet instead. He sat up and leaves fell from his body. I moved my lips to his chest and kissed him there. Grabbing my arms, he flung me away from him and his face twisted into a cruel laugh.

‘Do you think I could ever be interested in you?’ he asked. ‘You’re not even a woman. Not like your mother or your sister. What are you? You’re damaged; you’re filthy, filthy.’

My body jolted and I sat up. My face was hot and moist and the bed covers clung to my skin. Shaking, I tried to catch my breath. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. I could see through a gap in the curtains it was still dark outside. I bent down, held my ear to the floor and listened. I pretended I could hear Scott’s gentle purr as he slept then I returned to my bed, adjusted the covers and closed my eyes.

If I fell back into another dream, I didn’t remember it when I woke. Sunlight filled my room, softened by the curtains and I lay in bed, wondering whether Scott was still there. I crept down the stairs, wanting to catch sight of him asleep in the chair again, half-tempted to wake him with a kiss as if we were in a fairy tale. Half-way down the stairs I heard noises from the kitchen and realised he was already awake; the moment was lost.

‘Good morning,’ he said to me as I marched into the kitchen.

‘Hi,’ I replied, hunting for my tobacco tin.

‘Want coffee?’

‘Yes please. How did you sleep?’

‘Surprisingly well, thanks. Hope I didn’t cause you any trouble.’

‘It was no trouble,’ I answered, rolling a cigarette. ‘I would have moved you, but you looked strangely comfortable curled up in the chair.’

He passed me a mug of coffee.

‘Thanks.’ I nursed my coffee and smoked a cigarette. A thousand thoughts flitted in and out of my head. Most were stupid, like imagining a domestic bliss scenario between me and Scott as if either of us were made for such mundane lifestyles.

My thoughts shifted to the bricks and mortar around us, binding us to this space. Would I stay? It was a beautiful house and living here might mean living with Anna; I was certain that would be fun for a while at least. It would also please me to piss Cathy off, but there was an atmosphere within these walls that kept me on edge and had me checking over my shoulder at odd times. The house was menacing and even while the ghosts were quiet, I knew they were still there, waiting for me to let down my guard. I had heard them last night, warning me not to be complacent. Not for the first time I wondered whether the ghosts caused Vivienne to lose her sanity and now Mother might be one of them: those terrifying shades creeping over from the spirit world, the gates to which Scott jealously kept locked. I felt frustrated and restless and I decided I would finish this psychic journey, heal myself then leave. There was nothing keeping me in Bristol except three strangers and a backpack full of bad memories.

I sipped my coffee and rolled another cigarette. ‘I want to go back to the dream world today.’

‘I guessed you would,’ Scott answered. ‘I’ve got to be somewhere else this afternoon though, so it’ll need to be soon.’

‘Do you have your kit with you?’ I asked.

‘Always,’ he replied.

I believed him and suspected his mat and smudging stick were his comforters, like my back pack and knife. One minute he seemed so at peace and the next it felt a sham, a front, as if he was no more confident in this world than me - two awkward souls in the maelstrom of life. Was that why he still lived with his mum? Did he need her security to spread his wings? Not just her money, but her presence - her physicality, someone to ground him if he soared too high. I didn’t want to be grounded. I wanted to fly. I wanted to light the world on fire and watch it burn. I wanted to get back to London and rejoin the fight. All this nonsense about wills and houses, it wasn’t my world. I was a revolutionary, my father’s daughter? He would never have settled down.

‘Okay, I’m ready,’ I said.

I found my place on the mat as smoke from burning sage wafted around the room. It felt different without Granddad’s chair crouching behind me, easier. I was in my dream world before I started to count. Sunlight warmed my face. I greeted the great oak and took the path to my waiting stag; he wanted to play and to be caressed so I stroked his cheek and kissed his nose. Reaching the mountain took no time at all and when I stepped onto its towering side, I found myself at the top, quick as thought. I made my way towards my soul. The purple looked brighter now and my energy more apparent. The pink ribbons were scattered around it; I gathered them in my hands and blew them into the air removing all traces of my imprisonment. A beautiful rainbow appeared across the sky. But the pulsing wound remained, darker than before. A piece was still missing. Was time running out? All around, icons from my childhood and adult life were littered. With a sense of dread, I knew where I must check first. The chair looked bigger than the one Scott threw into the garden and, as I stepped towards it, I realised I was shaking. I looked to the rainbow for reassurance and knew I must face this, knew I could face this. I could do anything here.

I walked clockwise around the chair, but as I walked the chair moved too, always the same arm facing towards me, until I gave up, feeling dizzy. I gripped the arm of the chair and tried to yank it towards me.

Tomas was crying. I sat on the floor, my small arms around his slender frame, trying to comfort him. He kept pointing at the armchair unable to say anything between his violent sobs. I hugged him, wondering what had frightened him - a spider maybe. I walked towards the chair. Granddad’s hand was resting on the arm and his fingers were twitching. It looked as though he was playing the piano. I loved to hear him play, but there was no music now, only strange grunts and wheezes.

He must have sensed that I was watching him because he leaned forward to look at me through glazed and rheumy eyes. He smelled of cleaning fluid and soured milk. ‘Hi Princess,’ he said. ‘Come and sit on pappies lap.’

He grabbed me under my arms and lifted me. As he moved me across his lap, I saw something strange, a one-eyed, purple worm or snake, fatter than anything in Nanny’s garden. It twitched and I screamed. Shaking, I clung to the side of the chair as my head threatened to implode.

I needed to do this. I pulled the heavy thing on its rusted wheels, turning it. Almost there, I would see it soon, whatever it was. As the chair turned I realised my eyes were closed. I forced them open, keeping them narrow at first, hooded by my eyelashes. The chair looked empty until I spotted something tucked deep behind the cushion. The fabric reeked as I leaned across it and I felt bile rise into my throat. Perhaps I looked distressed, down there, or wherever my body was, because I heard Scott’s voice start to count backwards.

‘Ten,’

‘No!’ I screamed, reaching behind the cushion. I drew it out, the damp, long and unhealthy-looking purple grey thing. I knew what it resembled, but also what it really was, not part of Granddad at all, but part of my self, lost more than a decade before. I ran with it towards my soul.

‘Eight,’

I started to panic. My body urged me to return to my sacred space, but my mind wanted to finish this for once and for all. Pieces of my dream-self tore from me as I ran. I reached my soul and pushed the slippery member into the break. I turned back to the chair, squatting like a malevolent toad. My hand extended to my right and I felt a heavy weight. I glanced across and saw a bottle with a petrol soaked rag, pushed partly into its throat. The rag became a flame and I hurled it towards the oppressive armchair. I would be free. A burst of bright light dazzled me and my eyes filled with tears then I was rushing downwards.

44

‘Three, two ... one,’

I opened my eyes.

I scrambled on all fours across the room and crouched before Scott, trembling. ‘I did it. I found my fragment. I’m whole.’

‘Crow, that’s fantastic! I’m so proud of you.’

It felt as though we should embrace so I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek over and over again. ‘I feel ... I dunno ... I feel alive. Like the earth was burying me and I’ve dug my way out.’

Scott nodded. ‘That’s it exactly! We’ll make a shaman of you yet.’

‘I don’t want to be a shaman,’ I said grinning. ‘I want to be a revolutionary.’

‘Will you go back to London?’

‘Yes, of course ... probably ... eventually.’

‘I’ll miss you.’ His words stole my breath and my chest felt deflated.

‘I’ll miss you too. Look Scott, can people come into each other’s dream worlds?’

‘Yes. Not into your sacred space, but the forest and the mountain. There will be many travellers. Who did you see?’

‘I want you to come with me,’ I said and bit my lip waiting for his reply.

He sat, grinning at me. ‘Ahhh. You do, do you?’

I blushed. ‘Yes, I do. Will you?’

He paused then nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll come.’

‘Now?’ I asked, eagerly.

‘I can’t now. I have an appointment in an hour,’ he said. ‘I could come back later.’

‘I’m gonna visit Anna this afternoon,’ I said. ‘I want to talk things through with her.’

‘Tomorrow then?’

‘Yes tomorrow.’

I wondered what Scott was thinking. He looked happy, excited even. What would happen in the dream world? Would I try to seduce him? Would he seduce me? I felt tempted to cancel my plans to visit my sister, but no, that would seem too eager, too clingy and I didn’t feel like being either. I was free now and planned to remain that way.

When Scott left, the house felt empty. I wandered into every room, pulling back the curtains and opening windows, letting the lazy summer air fill the house. I gathered flowers from the garden and filled two vases: one for the dining room and the other for Vivienne’s old drawing room - my living room - the room where I learned to live again.

I wanted to dance so I rummaged through Mother’s CDs and vinyl collections and found some old music of my own tucked towards the back. Placebo filled the room as I spun round and round, feeling graceful for the first time in my life. I imagined Vivienne’s approving gaze, but I didn’t feel her watching me. That was okay; I had reclaimed the authority to approve of my new-found grace for both of us.

‘I am beautiful,’ I told myself, watching my slender arms whirl around me. ‘I am lovable. I am whole.’

When I felt too dizzy to dance, I sat on the floor with my open backpack in front of me. The diaries waited patiently. I lifted each of them out and turned them around in my hands, inspecting their covers then I took them into the garden and burned them.

‘I love you Mum,’ I shouted into the smoke. ‘Whatever mistakes you made, I forgive you.’

Wandering from empty room to empty room, nothing disturbed my peace, no menacing shadows, no creaks or groans. I closed each window and left. Instead of walking to Clive’s I found myself bouncing, almost skipping along the streets, attracting looks of wonder from strangers. At first, in response to their confused stares, I moderated my movements so as not to disturb their peace, but I was full of music - the rhythm of my blood, the percussion of my steps, and the melody inside my mind. Eventually I realised the world outside my skin was insignificant in comparison to my internal landscape and I ignored it.

Clive opened his door and embraced me. ‘What’s happened? Did you guys ...’

I laughed, delighting in the tinkling sound. ‘No, I did this all by myself. I’m free Clive. No more ghosts. No more fear.’

‘Come in, my dahling child, my butterfly. Tell me how you achieved this miracle of transformation.’ He stepped aside and waved me into the hallway. I saw Anna waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

‘I hoped you’d come,’ she said.

I smiled and felt the narrow staircase reflecting the warm glow of my energy.

‘Wow, was he that good?’ Anna asked, giggling and moving away from the staircase.

I followed my sister into the living room in silence and sank into an armchair, but soon realised I was unable to keep still. My hands moved around me and my feet tapped a rhythm in the air. My skin tingled and it felt as though I was conducting a huge electrical current from every hair into every follicle. ‘It was magic.’

‘What was magic?’ Anna asked.

Clive handed me an ice-cold glass. ‘Elderflower,’ he said and passed another to Anna. ‘The suspense is killing us, Crow dahling. You simply have to tell us what happened to you.’

‘I found myself. I don’t know how else to explain it,’ I said, giggling.

‘Tell us everything,’ Clive pleaded.

Anna nodded. ‘Please. We’re desperate to know. You, you just don’t look like you did yesterday, not at all. If it isn’t sex we need to know what your secret is.’

I told them everything, carefully describing Scott’s ritual and explaining about dream space. Anna questioned every detail, but I didn’t want to paint a word-picture of my sacred space, it was too personal. Instead, I described the pathway and the wood and told them about the mountain and my damaged soul. I chose not to mention the razor-wire or precisely what I found in my grandfather’s chair.

‘I found the missing piece, and now I’m whole. I’m the ‘me’ I was always supposed to be.’

‘I’m so proud of you, little sis. So what now? What will you do now you’re whole?’

‘I’m leaving Bristol,’ I said. ‘Going back to London. I want to help people who need me. There is so much to do there, so much unfairness, so much poverty.’

Anna frowned and shook her head. ‘You can’t. You said we’d live together.’

‘You never even said you wanted to, Anna,’ I answered. ‘I’ve got what I came back for – answers and understanding. Wherever I go, you’ll always be my sister. We’ll visit each other, write letters, chat for hours on the telephone. I won’t disappear.’

Anna turned away.

‘I’m sorry, Anna, but for the first time in my life I’m not running away; I’m walking towards something great. This is important to me.’ I hugged her and kissed her cheeks.

Anna nodded and wiped her eyes. ‘Of course, I’m sorry, but I’ll miss you. We have so much to catch up on.’

‘And we will,’ I whispered into her thick hair.

We spent a lazy afternoon together. Clive brought us coffee and food while we snuggled together in an armchair. Clive offered us the settee, but we declined. It was strange but wonderful this closeness - the innocent melting of two bodies into one. I wondered whether Vivienne ever held me like this. I was sure Nanny did. Anna smelled of flowers and holding her reminded me of Nanny’s garden and summer days spent digging up weeds with my grandmother and watering flowers, while Tomas rode his bike around the grass in circles, blowing raspberries at us and trying to get me to chase him. I had loved that garden. It was the only place I had felt happy until now.

‘Should we phone Tomas?’ Anna asked.

‘What for?’ I sat up and tilted my head.

‘To let him know we’re okay to sell the house.’

‘Are you okay to sell it?’

She nodded. ‘It isn’t even part of my history. If it isn’t part of our future I’d rather have the money, to be honest.’

We looked at Clive who was absorbed in a book. He must have sensed our examination, because he looked up. ‘Sorry?’

‘We need to phone Tomas. Can we use your phone?’

‘Of course, although it’s only four o’clock. Will he be home from work yet?’

I shrugged. I didn’t know whether he would go to work this week. ‘I’ll phone later.’ I sank back into my sister’s arms, half-hoping the idea would be forgotten entirely. I didn’t look forward to hearing Cathy’s voice. ‘Actually Clive, would you do it?’

‘Phone Tomas? Of course, dahling,’ Clive replied.

He returned to his book and I returned to my happier childhood memories, slotting a young Anna into each of them. I remembered the garden always felt warm and was always filled with sunshine. I couldn’t remember ever making snowmen or raking up autumn leaves, but I remembered digging up potatoes. The dark earth covering my fingers felt warm and smelt like sunlight. I would mould it into statuettes of the family and rest them against the garden wall. Nanny used to frown at the dirt beneath my nails and I winced as I remembered how fiercely she would scrub them.

I drifted off to sleep in that warm cocoon of a chair and when I woke Anna was still curled beside me. I heard a nervous flurry of movement behind me and Clive’s voice, raised slightly, but I was pinned in place and couldn’t turn to see what was happening.

‘Hello Cathy, it’s Clive. Can I speak to Tomas please? Good evening, Tomas ... Yes it is ... Yes she is ... Tomas calm down. Do you think this is what your mother would have wanted? Yes ... They would like to meet with you ... Would Vivienne’s house be neutral ground? Okay ... how about the solicitors? It really isn’t like that at all ... I think you should ... Tomas there is no need to insult me ... It’s all right, I understand ... Yes, we’ve all been under a lot of strain. Shall I tell them tomorrow then? ... What time can you get there? I’m sure seven will be fine. Thank you, Tomas.’

Clive crossed the room and sat back down on the settee. He looked older, more fragile. His face was blanched and he was shaking.

‘What did he say?’

Clive jumped. I guessed he didn’t realise I was awake.

‘He will meet you at the house, tomorrow evening at seven o’clock. Please tell me that’s okay.’ Clive wiped his face with his handkerchief.

‘It’s fine. Thank you, Clive.’ I tried to get up without disturbing Anna but our limbs were tangled together. ‘Thank you.’

He smiled at me and on his pale face I superimposed the features of my imagined father. I wondered how Clive would cope without Vivienne in his life. He looked as fragile as the kitsch ornaments and music boxes that filled the room. Not strong like I imagined my father. Clive was just a frightened child who missed his mummy, like the rest of us.

‘Are you okay, Clive?’

‘I am top notch, thank you, dahling.’

‘You know it’s all right if you aren’t.’

‘I miss Vivienne. I will always miss her, but having her two beautiful daughters keeping me company is compensation enough.’

I nodded and ruffled Anna’s hair. My sister stirred but did not wake. ‘Do you think you can help me out of this chair?’

Clive moved Anna’s leg while I lifted her arm and twisted out of her grasp. Standing in the centre of the room, I stretched my limbs. My arms felt stiff and my feet prickled in that dead flesh sort of way as blood returned to them.

‘May I?’ I asked, waving my tobacco tin at Clive.

‘Anna smokes in her room by the window.’

‘I remember the way.’

I kissed him on the cheek and walked into the dark room. Stumbling over discarded clothes, I crossed to the window and pulled back the curtains. Anna’s room looked like the squat might have done had Chrissie not been a compulsive cleaner. I laughed as my eyes roamed over the debris: magazines, clothes and dirty coffee cups everywhere. I rolled a cigarette and flung open the window.

The street was noisy and sounds of children’s play echoed up from the alley below. The hum of traffic was almost constant; it must have been be rush hour already. I wondered whether I could see Scott’s house and leaned out of the window as far as I dared, but couldn’t see his ribbon covered tree. Disappointed, I smoked my cigarette and returned to the living room.

Anna’s eyes were open and she stretched her arms above her head, yawning. ‘So we’re meeting the bruvva tomorrow?’

I nodded. ‘I hope Cathy doesn’t come.’

‘Strange woman that one. She always seems full of smiles.’

‘Seems is the operative word. If you piss her off she’ll make you pay,’ I answered. ‘Which of course makes it all the more fun.’

‘But we’re not going to piss her off are we? You want out of the house - away from Bristol.’

It was impossible to gauge what Anna was thinking. My sister’s face confused me. One moment she seemed tranquil and the next, agitated. Vivienne’s face would do the same when she was feeling vulnerable, usually just before I would find myself on clean up duty, washing blood or pill-peppered vomit from the bathroom.

‘If you need me to, I’ll stay until you’re okay. You’re my sister.’

‘It’s fine, honestly. I’m sorry if I ...’ Anna stood up and walked towards the kitchen. I started to follow.

‘I’m making tea,’ Anna said, dismissively. ‘I’ll bring one in for you.’

I returned to the living room. ‘Do you think she’ll be okay?’ I asked Clive.

Clive shrugged. ‘She reminds you of Vivienne as well, does she, dahling?’

I nodded.

‘Vivienne was tougher than you gave her credit for. She survived a long time, but she followed her heart more than her head and I am certain if she was given the choice all over again she would do exactly the same. That woman knew how to live for love - an inspiration to us all.’