Blue Moon Page 2

  ‘This is where my path starts,’ Mia said. ‘You coming?’

  Will hunched down on the pebbles. ‘Let’s stay on the beach a bit longer.’

  She sat beside him.

  ‘Here. Shut your eyes and hold out your hand.’

  He closed her fingers round a small pebble, warm from his hand. ‘Now look. See how beautiful it is? Mottled blue, just like a blackbird’s egg.’

  It was beautiful, like he said, if you really looked. A blackbird’s egg. She slipped it into her fleece pocket.

  The sun had dropped right down below the hills across the bay. She huddled her knees under her dress, but they kept slipping out again.

  Will stared at the sea. ‘I love it here,’ he said.

  Mia had walked on this beach a million times. It was just stones, and the sea wasn’t deep enough to swim unless you waded really far out. Along the top of the beach there was a dark line of stinking weed and all the junk left by the tide: plastic bottles, driftwood, bits of net and old shoes and tin cans. A mess. Nothing beautiful.

  She tried to see it through his eyes. He hadn’t lived here as long as her. She’d never lived anywhere else, but he’d been all over the place. His family had moved two years ago from the city. He liked how wild it was here, how much sky. The fact that there was no one else but them. ‘And all the different sea birds. Listen.’

  Mia heard gulls; other birds she couldn’t name. A flock of black and white birds flew together, piping a high, sad note over the water.

  ‘Oyster catchers,’ Will said.

  Mia watched his face. She’d lived here all her life, but she’d never bothered with the names of things.

  ‘Look! The moon’s made a path on the sea.’ She spoke without thinking. ‘I used to want to walk on it when I was little. All the way up to the moon –’ She stopped herself. Stupid. He’d think her stupid, saying that. Wished she’d said something clever, only she couldn’t think what.

  But he didn’t tease her. He put his arm round her instead. ‘You cold? You’re shivering.’

  She shuffled closer. ‘My legs are freezing!’ She rubbed them with her hands. Shouldn’t have worn a dress. Only it had been so hot earlier, and she’d pinched one of Kate’s to wear. Thin, and short and expensive. It made her look older. Will touched her leg lightly and then stroked it gently with the back of his hand.

  ‘The wind’s blowing in off the sea, that’s why it’s cold. We could go and sit in the field, if you like? It’ll be more sheltered there.’

  ‘OK. If you want.’

  ‘It’s too early to go home. Anyway, this is magic. Being here with you.’ They kissed again. This time they took longer.

  ‘See?’ Will sat back from her. ‘The moon’s on your hair. You look all luminescent. Like those stones which give off their own light. You know?’

  ‘No, I don’t! You’re weird, Will Moore!’

  He shoved her so that she sprawled over, giggling, and then he pulled her up and she fought him back till they were both laughing. Together they clambered over the rocks at the back of the beach, up on to the grassy ridge that turned into the footpath.

  There was a gap in the hedge that ran along one side of the path. They climbed through into the field. The hay had been cut some weeks ago; now the grass was short and dry. They sat down close together. Away from the sea, there was no wind at all. Grasshoppers still whirred and swallows dipped and dived for flies in the last of the evening light.

  ‘See. It’s warmer here.’ Will took off his jacket and spread it on the grass. ‘Let’s lie back and watch for shooting stars.’

  But soon they’d forgotten about the stars. And Mia wasn’t cold any more.

  She forgot everything. Where she was, what the time was, what she should have been doing. She hadn’t meant it to happen. She hadn’t planned it this way. She didn’t think he had either.

  They took off all their clothes. His warm body slid over hers, and all the time they kissed and stroked each other as if they were discovering something no one had ever found before. And then she felt something change in him and it was like something answered back from her, something wild and free. She felt as if she were flying. Free, like the swallows. Dipping and diving and swooping in the dying light. And that feeling changed again, and it was like a dark, greedy hunger for him that took her over completely. That was how they made love.

  Afterwards they lay close.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice came out in a whisper. ‘But – I didn’t mean – what if –?’

  ‘It’ll be OK,’ he said. ‘Nothing’s going to happen.’

  She felt cold air rush over her as he moved away. The field was full of deep shadow. She struggled back into her dress. He turned away as he pulled his trousers back on.

  ‘It was good, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes! Amazing.’ Mia began to laugh.

  ‘What’s funny?’

  ‘I don’t know. Nothing. I just felt like laughing.’

  Will sat next to her and pulled on his shoes. She bent over and kissed his head. His hair felt soft. Smelled musky and special. ‘But you mustn’t tell anyone what we did. No one. Not Liam or Matt or anyone. Promise?’

  ‘Promise. You neither.’

  ‘Right.’

  Mia stretched her head back. The sky was dark and huge. ‘I ought to get back home. My dad’ll go mad if I’m late again.’

  ‘I’ll walk with you to your house, yes? And we can meet here again tomorrow? Or the next day?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Only if you want to.’

  ‘I do! But we ought to be careful – you know – if we do that again.’

  A shooting star whizzed across the velvet sky.

  ‘See that?’

  ‘Amazing, isn’t it? How bright it is, and then gone. All burned up!’

  ‘You get whole showers of them this time of year,’ Will said. ‘Meteorites, winging their way to earth.’

  They watched the sky together, waiting for another. Will smiled at her. ‘Star-crossed. That’s us.’

  Mia puzzled over his words afterwards, lying in bed unable to sleep. Then she remembered. It was from the play – ‘Star-cross’d lovers’, from Romeo and Juliet.

  Six weeks ago. She’d been full of joy and happiness at being close to Will. And they had done it again, but with condoms after that, so that this was so, so unfair. Just one time. The very first time ever. And then the waiting had begun, and the gnawing worry when her period still hadn’t come. Then the sickness, and the hunger, and the exhaustion. Deep, wrenching misery filled her. Such a tiny amount of happiness, for such a short time. And now nothing could be all right ever again.

  The phone rang again, then the answering machine clicked in with her dad’s message. His voice drifted upstairs, calm and reassuring. But he wouldn’t be like that with her. Not when he knew.

  The bathwater was getting cold. Kate’s voice drifted into her head. ‘I don’t like it when it’s cold waves!’ Little girl voice. Kate, the middle one, having to share her little sister’s bathwater. Kate was off travelling now, a whole year of it before university, and Laura had stayed on in Bristol most of the summer. After this next short visit, once Laura’s term had started, there would just be her left. Her, and Dad. And this – this thing inside her.

  Mia turned on the hot tap. She knocked the soap into the bath by mistake and it slipped like a fish in her hands as she tried to scoop it back up. She lay right back, head under the water so that her hair floated out like seaweed. Toast crumbs floated on the water. She’d stay like this all day if she wanted to. She didn’t care.

  Mia remembered the answerphone message after she’d got out of the bath. She went downstairs wrapped in her towel, hair still dripping. Might be Will. Probably not. Or Becky.

  She pressed playback. No words came. Just the sound of someone crying. Soft, stifled sobs. Mia replayed the tape. It sounded like a child. Shivering, she switched the machine back on. The sound seemed to foll
ow her upstairs. In the end, she lay on her bed with headphones on and drowned it out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  September 22nd

  ‘You think it’s easy? Bringing up three girls doesn’t come cheap, you know.’

  ‘It’s only twenty quid, Dad. No one else’s parents make such a fuss about paying for things.’

  ‘Not everyone else is struggling on their own with one salary and three growing daughters, that’s why.’

  ‘Well, that’s not my fault, is it?’

  As soon as she said it Mia wished she hadn’t. Dad’s face darkened. She saw the shadow wing across. Now he definitely wouldn’t come up with the money.

  ‘Tea, Dad?’ Laura called from the kitchen. Impeccable timing. She must have been listening all the while. Mia watched her sister carry the mug and a plate of ginger biscuits over to their father’s chair. Typical. The dutiful oldest daughter. But she didn’t have to live here all the time, did she? She’d already escaped.

  Dad started up again.

  ‘It’s a waste of money, Mia. If it were for books or a theatre trip or something for school it might be different. But an amusement park?’ He spat the words out in disgust.

  ‘Theme Park. It’s a day out. Fun. Get it?’ Mia glowered. ‘But in our family it has to be education all the bloody time, doesn’t it! Bloody education!’ She slammed out of the room.

  ‘Come back here, Mia! I won’t have you swearing at me like that.’

  She sat on the stairs, shaking. She could hear their voices – Dad’s deeper tones and Laura, gentler. She strained to hear the words. ‘It’s her age, Dad. Don’t be too hard on her.’

  Mia seethed. Goody goody Laura. Talking about her as if she were a little kid when Laura was only five years older! Mia had forgotten how annoying she could be.

  She swung the sitting-room door open again. Dad and Laura were sitting together on the sofa facing the open French windows. Mia stood in front of them, blocking out the light.

  ‘It’s not my age, thank you very much, Laura Zoe Kitson! It’s just that I’m normal, unlike the rest of you. Normal, and wanting to have a good time like everyone else in the world except this – this sad family!’ Her voice quivered slightly. ‘And Becky and Ali and Will and everybody will be going – it’s so unfair.’

  Laura pushed past her into the garden. ‘Horrid cat. It’s caught something. Can’t you hear?’

  A thin shrieking sound filled the garden. Mia watched Laura chase after, then pounce on the cat, pin him down with one hand, tug at his tail. The cat squealed. She watched, horrified, as it dropped the crumpled body on to the lawn. For a second, the bird writhed, a broken thing.

  Her stomach clenched. Throat gagged. Oh no. Please. Not now. Not again.

  She ran upstairs, one hand cupped over her mouth. She flushed the toilet as she retched over it again and again. No one must hear. It left her shivering, exhausted. She rinsed out her mouth, splashed cold water over her blotched face. Tucked her hair behind her ears. The sour taste of bile coated her mouth. Finally she was ready to go back down.

  Dad watched her from the hallway.

  ‘You all right?’

  Mia nodded.

  He gave her his worn-down smile. ‘You can have the money, the twenty pounds. You’re right. You do need to have some fun. Look, we’ll make a deal. You get yourself into school every day next week, no more days off because you’re tired. I’ll give you twenty quid.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’ Mia stepped slowly downstairs and planted a grudging kiss on the top of his head. ‘See it as a bargain. I’m not going to be like Laura and Kate. I won’t want to go to college or anything. Or do A Levels. You can save money on me!’ One final barb.

  She ran back upstairs and shut her bedroom door before he could answer back.

  Mia lay on her bed. That smell. Dad’s hair. It reminded her of Will. Will’s hair smelled like that. Perhaps all men did. Comforting, but sort of dangerous. Weird to think Dad smelled like that as well as Will. She’d not noticed it before.

  When Becky and Ali and Mia discussed the boys at school they sometimes asked her about her dad. They wondered why he didn’t have a girlfriend.

  ‘He’s still quite good looking,’ Ali said, one break-time just before they broke up for the summer. ‘Still got lots of dark hair, and the silvery bits are quite attractive.’ She smiled her secret faraway smile. ‘I rather like an older man. And your dad’s interesting when he talks about books and stuff. And kind.’

  ‘You should try living with him,’ Mia said. ‘You wouldn’t say that then.’

  Ali savoured the possibility. ‘I wouldn’t mind. If he were just a bit younger. Pity he doesn’t teach at our school.’

  Becky and Mia snorted.

  ‘Ali! Don’t be so sick! It’s Mia’s dad you’re talking about.’

  ‘He’s too tight with money for you,’ Mia said. ‘Mean, in fact.’

  ‘Well, I suppose it’s hard for him, without your mum there.’

  ‘That’s his fault too,’ Mia said quietly. She took her feet off the chair and went to get a drink from the machine in the hall.

  Mia lay on her bed, arms behind her head. The window was open; from the tree a bird called out its warning cry. The cat must have been let back out into the garden. Apple Pie. Stupid name for a ginger cat. Mum’s idea. ‘He’s sweet! Sweet as apple pie!’ she’d cooed over the small kitten when Mia and Kate brought him home in a cardboard box. The name had just stuck. That was over ten years ago.

  Mia looked at Mum, smiling down from the photograph propped up on her chest of drawers. They were all in it. Mia, the littlest, sat on Mum’s lap. She must’ve been about three. Kate and Laura stood behind, and then Dad at the back, one hand round each daughter, sort of holding them all together. It was taken in the garden. You could just make out the ash tree to one side. Smaller then.

  ‘Stupid!’ she said out loud. Mum still smiled.

  Mia reached out and turned the photograph round. She didn’t want to look at Mum’s stupid face. Dad had found it for her, ages ago, and it had just stayed there, propped up against the jewellery box Kate had given her. They had other photos in albums downstairs, but in most of the pictures Mum was on the edge of things, looking as if she was thinking about something else. Mia supposed she was. Planning when and how to leave. Except when she finally did, it didn’t seem planned at all…

  An argument. Loud, angry voices. Six-year-old Mia stood in the sitting-room doorway listening to the voices slipping over each other down the dark stairwell. Fragments: ‘How dare you!… everything of myself… nothing left… the children… you try it… really like…’ It was her mother’s voice she could mainly hear, shouting, sobbing. The lower tones of her dad were less easy to make out. ‘No… Can’t.’ Once he yelled ‘Alice.’ Mum’s name. What was he doing? Should she go and see? Say something? Should she find Laura and Kate? They were still asleep upstairs.

  In the background was the jaunty music of children’s TV, which she’d switched on. She wasn’t supposed to do that in the morning. She was supposed to read quietly or get her breakfast. Guiltily she switched it off and went back to the doorway. Listening. Her heart was thudding. Her feet were freezing. She rubbed one foot against her leg under her thin cotton nightie. Twisted her fingers through her hair.

  The bedroom door upstairs opened; her mother spun out, downstairs, a flurry of clothing and hair and bags. Just for a second she hesitated, seeing little Mia standing there and then the front door was open, she was through, it banged shut. The car engine started. From the window she watched her mother drive away.

  Afterwards, Mia used to wonder if she’d made it up, the bit about her mother pausing, hesitating. In any case, it hadn’t been enough. Mia hadn’t stopped her going.

  Why hadn’t she run after her? Banged on the window? Called her back? Maybe, if she had, everything would have been different. It was as if she had been frozen. Turned to ice.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  September 24th
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br />   ‘Mia. It’s nearly nine thirty.’

  Dad banged on her door again. ‘Mia? Are you getting up?’

  ‘Yeah. OK. In a minute.’ She sat up and swung her legs round from under the bedclothes. For a second the room span; then it went back to normal. She got dressed and went downstairs to find Dad.

  ‘OK. I’m ready.’

  ‘What about breakfast?’

  ‘Not hungry. I’ll get something when we’re there.’

  Dad sighed heavily as he picked up his keys from the table. ‘Let’s go then.’

  He’d only agreed to give them a lift because Becky’s mum had phoned: ‘… Can you take them? I’d do it myself, but I’m working…’ Mia, listening on the upstairs phone, had heard Dad explaining that he had to work most of the weekend too, even though he was at home: ‘… everyone always thinks teachers have short days, long holidays, but I always have to bring work home evenings and weekends. It’s not easy, you know.’

  Dad sounded pathetic, she thought. Whinging on about what hard work it was these days. Why didn’t he do something else if it was so difficult? But he had agreed to drive Becky and her to Thornton Park. A major breakthrough. She hoped he wouldn’t be too embarrassing in front of Becky.

  He parked outside the entrance gates to let them out. ‘OK, girls. Make sure you stick together the whole time. No talking to strangers.’

  Mia grimaced.

  ‘I’m not joking, Mia. There are all sorts of weirdos who hang out at these sort of places. You need to watch out.’

  ‘What do you mean, weirdos?’

  ‘Don’t be obtuse, Mia. You know what I’m talking about.’

  ‘Dirty old men in raincoats? For heaven’s sake, Dad. You’re the weirdo around here.’ Mia raised her eyes in exasperation.

  Dad turned towards Becky. ‘Your mum will pick you and Mia up?’

  Becky smiled sweetly. ‘Yes, Mr Kitson. Don’t worry.’

  Mia cringed inside. Any minute now her dad would say something even more embarrassing. Sure enough.