The Family

The spicy pepperoni and melted cheese made my stomach rumble. I was always a fan of pizza day. I slid onto an empty bench, dumping my rucksack at my feet. I scanned the room. Rhianon was at the till paying for her food. Our eyes met. Invisible strands of years of friendship hung between us, frayed and worn. We were so much more than cousins.

I raised my hand. Mouthed, ‘Hi’.

Her hand twitched by her side and I willed her to wave at me. Instead, after glancing to see where Katie was, she offered me a weak smile and a barely discernible nod. I’d only spoken to her once since Dad died. After Mum said the post mortem had been carried out and we were free to bury him.

‘I can’t bear to think of him all cut up,’ I had sobbed down the phone. Rhianon had cried too and, for a moment, we were close again.

Now, I patted the seat next to me in a sit-here gesture. She chewed her lip in that way of hers when she couldn’t decide what to do.

Katie strode in front of her and then they were all walking in my direction. My stomach tightened and, to make myself look busy, I opened my Tupperware and pulled out a sandwich. Too late I realised my mistake.

‘Oh. My. God.’ Katie stopped in her tracks. ‘Tilly!’ She paused for effect, to make sure everyone was looking. ‘Has Mummy cut your sandwiches into hearts? How sweet!’

My body burned with embarrassment. What had Mum been thinking?

‘It’s like you’re seven, not seventeen. No wonder Kieron dumped you.’

Kieron studied his shoes. He used to tell me my eyes were beautiful, but now he couldn’t meet them.

Katie began to sing that old song, ‘Don’t go breaking my heart…’ but trailed off when she realised no one was joining in. Rhianon was staring at the floor, an odd expression on her face, and I wondered if she was remembering the same memory as me. The way her mum and mine used to belt out that song whenever they made dinner together, when everyone got along.

‘Go and take a running jump, Katie,’ I said.

‘Like your dad did?’

All the breath left my body in one sharp release. I tried to not picture Dad broken and bleeding on the floor, but the image had snuck into my mind and was scorched there for evermore.

‘Katie, don’t,’ Rhianon said quietly.

‘You’re sticking up for her?’ Katie raised her perfectly drawn eyebrows.

‘He was my uncle.’

I screwed the sandwich up so tightly in my fist that tuna mayo splattered all over the sleeve of my black top.

‘Aww, never mind.’ Katie said. ‘I’m sure Mummy will wash it for you.’ She sashayed away while I rubbed at the stain with my fingers, but that only made it worse. I watched as Rhianon and Kieron trailed after her, cramming themselves onto an almost-full table on the other side of the hall.

We had learned about a leper colony in Greece in history once, and as I sat alone, surrounded by empty seats, I realised that I wasn’t just a social leper, I was that entire island.

Angrily, I flicked a piece of sweetcorn onto the floor and then felt guilty. Mum tried so hard. I’d been such a bitch to her lately. I wished I could tell her everything. How lonely I was. How afraid. Sometimes I heard her crying in the night. I’d bury my head underneath my pillow. Each day I tried to avoid her. I was frightened that as soon as I started talking to her the truth would just come out. I didn’t want to do or say anything that might ruin Mum’s memory of Dad; she had enough to deal with. I didn’t want her to think badly of me, but I wondered if she did know, would she hate him and miss him less? It was impossible to know what the right thing to do was.

As I thought of the way I’d ignored her goodbye and slammed the car door that morning, I began to panic. She was literally all I had left and I wasn’t sure what I’d do if she turned her back on me too. I balled my hands as I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself crying. I was shrinking the way Alice did when she drank the potion in Wonderland. The rain hammered down on the corrugated roof and the noise of that, and of the chatter and laughter and the clattering of trays, was unbearable.

‘We’re off to see the wizard.’ I filled my head with Mum’s soft voice singing one of our favourite songs.

The pressure released from my lungs, leaving a desire to make up with Mum. I pulled my mobile out of my bag. Straight away it beeped with a message notification from Rhianon.

Take it from the cute sandwiches you STILL haven’t told your mum the truth about your dad?

Dread filled my empty stomach. How much longer would it remain a secret?

Dad’s hands cupping my face.

Promise you won’t tell, Tilly.

Chapter Six

LAURA

I hugged the pillow tighter, the feathers moulding against the curves of my body. The curves Gavan would kiss on a Saturday morning while I wriggled further under the covers, protesting that it was too bright with the sun glaring through the thin curtains, shining its fiery spotlight on every lump and bump.

‘Laura, I’ve eaten marshmallows off your belly, licked chocolate body paint off your thighs, sucked whipped cream from everywhere.’ He’d pin my wrists above my head. ‘You’re beautiful. Don’t hide.’

If he were still with me I’d stand in all my naked glory, cellulite and stretch marks on display, and let him love me the way he wanted to. The way I needed him to. I pressed my face against the pillowcase and inhaled, long and slow. Each night I sprayed Boss aftershave on Gavan’s side of the bed. The sheets smelled of him, and yet somehow, they didn’t. The cologne came from his bottle, the bottle I bought him last Christmas, but it wasn’t quite the same. The underlying muskiness of him. His own unique Gavan smell had gone and I just couldn’t recreate it.

Music blasted. A thumping bass shaking the wall between Tilly’s bedroom and mine, but I didn’t shout at her to turn it down. It reminded me that despite the hollow in my chest, I was not alone. She was up early for a Saturday. Her door crashed open, and seconds later the bathroom door slammed. Seventeen and destined for uni and she still couldn’t operate a door handle. Tearing myself away from my too-big-for-one bed I slipped my feet into slippers and shrugged on my dressing gown. It was chilly.

‘Morning,’ I called from the landing. ‘I’m making toast. Do you want some?’

‘Not going to cut it into a heart, are you?’ she fired through the plasterboard separating us. I hesitated. There was so much I wanted to say but I didn’t know where to start, so I jammed my words and my hands into my pockets and traipsed downstairs to put the heating on.

By the time my breakfast was ready the ancient boiler was chugging into life. I ate at the table, the syrupy thick coffee and the sticky tang of marmalade chasing away the last traces of sleep. Once again I read the letter from the insurance company:

Dear Mrs Evans, After careful consideration we regret to inform you that in the absence of…

The words skipped and hopped behind the blur of tears covering my eyes until they rearranged themselves into something different. Something better. A future. I peered into the envelope in case I could find some hope. A second sheet of cheap white paper telling me it was a mistake. Of course they would be paying out. Fulfilling the promises of their slick advertising campaign, featuring impossibly beautiful actors with just the right amount of tension etched into their too-perfect skin. Their smiles chasing away their frowns as Ironstone Insurance reassured, ‘We worry, so you don’t have to.’

Fucking, fucking liars.

I couldn’t wait weeks or even months until the inquest, and what if the coroner didn’t think it was an accident?

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

I had almost been shattered before. I couldn’t be again. I had Tilly to look after.

‘Mum?’

I dragged my sleeve across my cheeks, mopping my tears, and attempted a smile. Tilly looked young and uncertain without the thick, black lines she normally drew under her eyes, clad in her polar bear pyjamas and penguin slippers.

‘I’m fine. I’m popping over to Aunt Anwyn and Uncle Iwan’s this morning. Do you want to come?’

Emotions flickered across her face – she had always been so easy to read. Surprise, trepidation, a longing that perhaps everything would be okay. It would go back to the way it was before – sleepovers with Rhianon and family lunches. It worried me that the girls had drifted apart. I could understand Rhianon’s loyalty to Anwyn and Iwan, while they unfairly blamed Gavan for the whole sorry mess, but I’d hoped after Gavan died that she’d be there for Tilly. Kieron had dumped her before we’d even had the funeral. I was glad they’d only been together for a few weeks, and I don’t think she cared with everything else that was going on, but I was angry with him for letting her down. I knew from experience how uncomfortable death can make adults – avoiding eye contact, avoiding speaking Gavan’s name – perhaps it was unfair to expect a seventeen-year-old to be able to offer support. But now that Tilly was back at school I was sure Rhianon would do the right thing. She was a good girl really.

‘It would be nice if you came.’ I swept the crumbs that littered the table onto my empty plate. If Tilly was by my side, surely there couldn’t be a repeat of last time me and Anwyn were in a room together. The lightning-sharp insults, thundering rage, accusations flung like hail against a windowpane. To my surprise and relief, Tilly said yes.

I had showered, dressed, squeaked the worktops clean with lemon cleaner and clattered too-many-for-one empty wine bottles into the recycling bin, and Tilly still wasn’t ready. Upstairs, I tapped on her door and urged her to hurry up before I lost my nerve. It took another half an hour before she stomped down the stairs in a fug of overpowering perfume, wearing a top and trousers that didn’t match. She looked like she’d slung on the first things she found on the floor – what had she been doing up there?

My Volvo always smelled of flowers, even when the backseat was empty. I pulled out of our road, opposite the park with the baby swings I used to push Tilly on – higher, higher, higher – as her pudgy hands gripped the metal bar, her head thrown back in laughter. The route to Anwyn’s was familiar. I drove on autopilot, oblivious to it all; the traffic lights we must have passed, the rain pattering against the car roof, the swish of the windscreen wipers. I wasn’t even conscious of Tilly in the passenger seat as I rehearsed what I’d say over and over, choosing my words carefully, rearranging them into some semblance of order. The last thing I wanted to do was offend them, cause another scene. It wasn’t until I parked and yanked the handbrake on that I became aware of the awful heavy metal music Tilly was playing. Some band wanting someone to pour some sugar on them, whatever that meant. Still, as long as she was happy.

It felt odd to be walking up the driveway without holding a bottle of wine for dinner, a homemade trifle for dessert. Without wearing a smile. Rather than heading around the back and walking straight in with an ‘it’s only us!’ I rapped on the front door.

From inside, the muffled sound of shouting. I exchanged a glance with Tilly. We’d arrived at a bad time but I couldn’t afford to give up. I knocked again.

It seemed an age before the door opened. Usually well-groomed, I was shocked by Anwyn’s appearance. Her hair greasy and unbrushed, the whites of her eyes tinged pink. Around her hung the pungent tang of stale alcohol.

‘Laura.’ Confused, her gaze flickered between Tilly and I. Before she could react I stepped forward.

‘Can we come in? Please.’

‘It’s not a good time.’ The door began to swing towards me and I wedged my foot inside before it fully closed.

I wasn’t leaving without a fight.

‘Please,’ I said, glancing at Tilly. It looked like she was trying not to cry, and Anwyn must have thought the same because she silently turned. I took that as an invitation to step inside, following her down the narrow passageway into the kitchen.

‘Tilly, do you want to go and find Rhianon?’ It wasn’t a question.

In the kitchen Iwan leaned against the worktops, his arms crossed defensively. Two against one. The air was prickly. I closed the door so the girls wouldn’t be able to hear. Anwyn wordlessly filled the kettle, lifted milk from the fridge. I used the time it took her to make our drinks to decide where to start, but by the time she slopped the mugs onto the table and we all sat down I still didn’t know what to say.

Silently, I slid the letter over to Iwan, studying his face as he read it. He looked terrible. His skin hanging looser around his jowls. His eyes sunken in their blackened sockets. Grief had aged him too.

‘Sorry, Laura,’ he said after he’d digested it. Anwyn snatched it from his fingers.

She scanned it. ‘I can’t see what this has to do with us.’

‘Anwyn,’ Iwan’s voice rumbled

‘What? I’m not allowed an opinion on anything now?’ She let out a sigh and a cloud of cheap wine fumes.

I addressed Iwan. ‘Is there anything you can do?’

‘I don’t see what I can do. I can’t make the inquest happen any quicker.’ He ran his fingers through thinning hair.

‘Have you been interviewed by the coroner yet? They want to go through the events leading up to that night, as well as find out exactly where everyone was when Gavan fell.’

Anwyn and Iwan exchanged an uncomfortable glance. It was always going to be emotional talking about Gavan’s death. I pushed on.

‘Iwan, I’m going to lose my home.’ I wanted to lay down the facts, clear and concise, but my voice splintered under the strain of my uncertain future. ‘Isn’t there anything else? Business insurance?’

‘There isn’t a business anymore.’ Anwyn chipped in. ‘You’ll have to get a job like the rest of us, Laura.’

‘I’ve been applying for—’ I began but she cut me off.

‘Iwan swallowed his pride and began working for someone else after all that hoo-ha with the land. Oh, take that look off your face,’ she snapped at me. ‘Who cares if it was with a rival firm? He had a family to support. Gavan should have admitted defeat and got a proper job too.’

‘Gavan knew he’d done nothing wrong. It didn’t matter that the estate was being built on a former landfill site. If it wasn’t safe the council wouldn’t have sold it to us, or granted planning permission. He didn’t give up because he believed in the business. He believed in you, Iwan.’ I stretched out my fingers towards him but Anwyn placed her hand on his before I could reach him. He snatched it away. ‘He never stopped trying.’ Tears filled my eyes as I remembered his determination. His optimism that he could turn things around. ‘He’d lined up a deal he said would get everything back on track the night he died. He loved what he did. He loved you, Iwan. You were his brother…’

‘I think Iwan knows that. Family is important to him.’

‘But we’re your family. Tilly and I…’

Anwyn snorted. Iwan glared at her. The tension that sat heavy between them when I arrived thickened.

‘Laura, I can’t help you.’ His words were soft but they struck a blow.

‘Can’t or won’t? Please, Iwan. Just be honest with me.’

‘Honest!’ Anwyn stood so fast her chair toppled backwards and crashed to the ground. ‘Don’t come here cap in hand and bloody talk to us about being honest, Laura. Don’t forget we know the lengths you’ve gone to in the past to get what you want. The lies you’ve told. I know you.’

I couldn’t believe she’d dragged that up and thrown it in my face. I stood too. My hands flat on the table supporting my weight as I leaned forwards.

‘That’s a nice way to talk to your family.’ My voice was low.

‘You’re not family.’ Her face was inches from mine. Her rancid breath made my stomach roil. ‘And neither is that daughter of yours.’

‘Let’s all calm down,’ Iwan said. ‘Tilly’s family, and Laura is—’

‘Laura, you’ve made your own bed.’ Anwyn cut in. ‘You’re not family to us anymore.’

Those were the same words my dad used all those years ago and hearing them felt like ripping off a plaster, raw and painful, the wound gaping wide open once more. Instinctively I slapped her.

‘Oh God, Anwyn. I didn’t… I…’ Shocked, my hand dropped to my side as hers rose to press against her cheek.

‘Get out!’ she screamed.

But I was already leaving the room, pulling on my coat. Feeling sick, I called for Tilly.

The front door opened. ‘Aunt Laura?’ Rhianon hesitated halfway across the threshold, sensing the atmosphere. ‘Is everything okay?’

Tilly pushed past me, then pushed past Rhianon, and I squeezed my niece on the shoulder as I followed my daughter to the car, knowing I would never set foot in that house again.

Knowing there was only one option left for me, even if the thought of doing it made me feel ill.

But we do what we have to for our children, don’t we?

Chapter Seven

TILLY

I was annoyed I couldn’t sleep in. It was Saturday for God’s sake. Monday to Friday, Mum had to literally drag me out of bed but that day, with nothing to do and no one to do it with, I was up at eight. I hadn’t slept well, thanks to my inability to stop scrolling through Instagram. Sometimes I even put my phone down, only to snatch it up seconds later in case another post had appeared: Rhianon and Ashleigh trying on clothes in New Look; Kieron and Katie sharing a pitcher in the Moon on the Square where they never ask for ID. It was a world where everyone was thinner, happier, more popular than I was. Eating better meals, wearing nicer clothes. I was the stray ginger cat who prowled our garden and sat on the patio, pressing his nose against the glass, purring to be invited in. I could have explained all that to Mum, but I never did. I knew I wasn’t the only one having sleepless nights. I could hear the squeak of Mum’s bed frame as she tossed and turned. Her footsteps as she padded downstairs for another cup of tea. In the first few days, after Dad died, I wanted to climb into bed with her but it was so weird being in their room without him. His clothes still piled over the elliptical trainer which Mum never used. His brush on top of the chest of drawers. Once I had tugged some of his hair free of the bristles and hidden it in a shoe box at the bottom of my wardrobe, along with a strip of black and white photos of me and Rhianon in one of those old-school photo booths.

I had tried to get back to sleep, but couldn’t, so had stomped to the bathroom instead. Mum asked if I wanted toast. I snapped ‘not if it’s in a heart shape’ or something. It was a low blow, but my foul mood was uncontrollable and the words had come out before I could swallow them back down. I had gone downstairs to offer to make her a cup of tea or something. She was sitting at the table crying, and to know I had caused that with my stupid toast remark made me feel like a prize bitch. Mum had tried to do something nice with my sandwiches after all, and I did appreciate it. Some mums don’t even bother.

It was a surprise when she asked me to go to Aunt Anwyn’s with her. We hadn’t seen much of them socially since Ashleigh got sick, and Dad and Uncle Iwan’s business stupidly got the blame. I thought it was really unfair because I saw Aunt Anwyn in a coffee shop in town with Cathy Collins, Ashleigh’s mum, so they must have still been friends. Mum said things would settle down and everyone would move on. Dad was a scapegoat because Mr Collins needed someone to blame; dads feel like they have to protect their daughters and he must think that he let her down. When I thought of that it made me want to cry. Why didn’t my dad want to protect me?

Thinking of the reception we might get, I almost changed my mind about going but Aunt Anwyn and Uncle Iwan were so kind to me at the funeral I thought if we could all come together like a family I might become best friends with Rhianon again, which would make things easier at school. I knew she couldn’t completely hate me; if she did she’d never have kept quiet about what I’d told her. Anyway, I owed Mum after the whole heart-shaped toast thing so I agreed to go with her. It was my sorry without saying sorry.

It took ages to decide what to wear. It was the same every morning. Deciding who I wanted to be, painting my skin, covering my body, not wanting anyone to see the real me. Not really sure who the real me was anymore. When we were younger, Rhianon and I were given these books one Christmas. The front page had a paper doll you could pop out, the rest of the pages contained her outfits and accessories. She could be anyone you liked. Biker chick. Catwalk model. Must-go-to-the-ball-and-kiss-a-prince-at-midnight princess. I was that paper doll as I pulled clothes from my wardrobe and stood in front of the mirror trying on new identities; flimsy and fragile. Just like her, I had been so easy to screw up and throw away.

Mum thumped on my door and shouted. I was browsing Instagram as I tried on various combinations of clothes. There was an art to clashing prints and patterns. Finally, I squeezed my feet into my baby blue, suede shoe boots and I was, if not satisfied, resigned that this was the best I was going to do. I opened the sample of too-expensive-for-me perfume I’d found in a copy of Cosmo that someone had left in the sixth form common room and rubbed it over my wrists, behind my ears, over my neck.

Mum didn’t say anything when I came downstairs, let alone bother to tell me I looked nice or that she was pleased I had made such an effort. In fact she didn’t speak to me once during the drive. She was either annoyed I had taken so long to get ready, or was still hurt by my toast comment. Who knew?

On the journey I started to think of all the ways my turning up at Rhianon’s unannounced was a bad idea. The swarm of bees that constantly filled my head buzzed noisily. Needing a distraction I fiddled with the ancient radio, twisting the dial past the crackle and hiss until I found Planet Rock. Def Leppard vibrated through the terrible speaker in the car door. It wasn’t really my sort of music, but I left it on knowing that Mum would hate it, not really understanding why I was compelled to irritate her. But she ignored the music and she ignored me. She clearly thought it wasn’t worth the fight, that I wasn’t worth the fight.

It was when Mum knocked on the front door as if we were strangers that we heard all the shouting coming from inside the house. Aunt Anwyn threw open the door. I was too anxious to speak as we went inside. I couldn’t remember ever entering this way, through the cramped hallway with its dark red walls and bookcases, and I had to turn sideward to squeeze past them. Usually we spilled through the light, bright conservatory with the old sofa with a hole in its arm, and the games console Rhianon and I used to play on until we discovered makeup and boys. When we reached the kitchen, Mum ordered me to go and find Rhianon, and virtually slammed the door in my face before I could even say hi to Uncle Iwan. Charming.

Although I’d wanted to see Rhianon, once I was there I had felt too awkward to go upstairs. Instead I sat on the sofa in the lounge. The first thing I noticed was that all the photos of me, Mum and Dad had been removed. There were darker patches on the peacock walls, where the frames used to be. It was quiet at first. But then, from the kitchen, the whisper-shouting started. They didn’t think I could hear them, but of course I could. Needing to block out their arguing I pulled the twisted mess of my earbuds from my pocket, and worked the knots free before stuffing them into my ears. My Spotify daily mix played Nina Nesbitt’s ‘18 Candles’. I would be eighteen next year. An adult. The thought of leaving school calmed me. I started scrolling through Instagram and spotted a new post from Rhianon. A photo of her, Katie and Ashleigh sitting cross-legged on sleeping bags, wearing pyjamas. I think it was taken at Katie’s house. ‘Great sleepover last night #BFF’