All That Is Lost Between Us (19 page)

Undeterred, she tried to chase him down, but even though the day was sunny the water further out was freezing, and she was shivering in no time. ‘I'll give you another chance,' Leo shouted as he reached the other side before her, but on the way back her skin began to feel strange and her body jittery. She saw him slowing down, smiling at her, letting her win, but she was too desperate to reach the warmth of her towel to respond. As she staggered out of the tarn, the air met her wet skin with an iciness she couldn't bear. She heard Leo calling her name, and in seconds he was next to her.

‘You're shaking.' He sounded shocked. ‘I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were having a hard time.'

‘I'm usually fine,' she replied through chattering teeth. ‘I wore a wetsuit for the Derwent, but I've swum in the tarns plenty of times in just my swimsuit. It's not that cold, I don't know what's wrong with me. I'll be okay in a minute.'

She went to collect her towel, but he was faster. ‘Sit down for a second,' he said, pushing her gently towards the ground. As she collapsed on the grassy bank, he wrapped her towel around her shoulders and put his own over her legs. She watched water droplets trickle down his chest as he rubbed her arms vigorously, trying to warm her up. When he caught her eye she tried to smile, but she was embarrassed, afraid of how she must look with her straggly wet hair and pale skin. She didn't say anything until he asked, ‘Does that feel better?'

She tried to smile again, reassured now that she had almost stopped trembling. ‘Thanks.' She looked at him dripping wet in front of her. ‘Aren't you cold?'

‘I'm okay.' His hands went back to hold her arms, but he didn't try to warm her. He grinned, but as she held his gaze, his expression changed and her breath caught when she saw the question there. In the pause between them he read her reply and leaned forward, his lips releasing a current of heat as they pressed against hers. He stopped after a few seconds, rocking back on his knees, his gaze never leaving her, as though assessing her response. She gave him a small smile and as soon as he saw that he moved forward again, pushing her back against the grass, his hard body heavy on hers, his mouth soft and hot against her own. This wasn't her first kiss, but it was the only one that had made her whole body tingle. She forgot about the cold, and her shyness. She put her arms around him and then moved one hand up so that her fingers buried themselves in his hair, wanting to keep him there. Her temperature had risen so rapidly she felt faint. She pushed herself against him, but they both became aware of voices at the same time, and came apart as two bikes whizzed past, only a short distance from where they lay.

Leo sat up and smiled. ‘You okay?'

‘Yes.' She wasn't cold any more, only a little light-headed; in places her body was burning. She rolled onto her side and watched him turn his gaze towards the water. She wondered what he was thinking.

The silence between them felt strange now, uneasy. She wasn't sure why. She sat up and folded his towel, laying it beside her. She let her hair down from its ponytail and wrung the excess water from it.

Glancing up, she found he was watching her again. ‘I'm so glad I met you, Georgia,' he said, his voice soft. ‘I'm still getting to know the area – I haven't even started work yet, so this is a bit unexpected . . .' He looked serious, then smiled. ‘And as much as I like rescuing you, that was a bit intense. So, how about I take you for dinner or drinks or a dance somewhere, without you having to swim across a tarn?'

He put his hand on her leg, and it was an effort to sit still at his touch. Her mind jumped backwards, remembering her hands in his hair a few moments ago. She was desperate to do that again.

‘Sounds good,' she said.

In response, he leaned over and kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and felt him solid and unyielding against her. His hand found the spot where her ribcage disappeared beneath the softness of her breast, and she thought,
If he moves his hand even a little bit higher I am going to explode
.

But there were more voices now, growing louder fast enough to bring them back to their surroundings. When they pulled away from each other she was sure that not much time could have passed, but a few grey clouds seemed to have rolled in to blot out the sun, and the day felt different. Colder.

‘Do you want to get back?' she had asked him, hoping he would say no. But he had nodded and gestured at the sky. ‘I suppose we should.'

•  •  •

Stop the memory here, stop the memory here
, her brain screams at her, even though this wasn't where the scene ended. Over time she has grown better at safely cutting off the replay during their moment of connection, rather than letting it run on to the horror that came afterwards. But today she is dozing, not fully in control of her thoughts, and so they march on anyway, only interrupted when her phone begins to ring.

She comes to her senses in sheer panic, then realises she is alone in her room. She's safe. She snatches the phone up quickly, unsure how long she has been dozing but not wanting her mother to hear the distinctive blast of Avicii. She doesn't recognise the caller, but the first few digits of the number are familiar.

‘Hello?' she says uncertainly. As she does so she sees that a note has been slipped onto her bedside table. Her mother has gone back to school.

‘Is this Georgia Turner?' The woman's voice is unfamiliar.

‘Yes.'

‘My name is Christina Kale – I'm the coordinator of tomorrow's race. You forgot to put your age on the entry form, so I just wanted to double-check?'

Her heart is still thudding as she says, ‘I'm seventeen.'

‘Wonderful, thank you. Good luck tomorrow, Georgia – looks like plenty of rain tonight, so don't wear your best gear, eh?' she chuckles.

‘Thank you,' says Georgia. The woman's words make her uneasy, but perhaps because she is still thinking of the rain that had approached on that other day. When she ends the call, she checks her phone. It was as she suspected: the same number that had called last night. It had been nothing to worry about, after all.

She sees the time – nearly half-past three. She has slept for over an hour.

Her ears strain but she cannot hear anything. Perhaps she is alone in the house. Her fingers are tingling and her head feels strange. She shakes both hands, trying to encourage her blood to pump around her body, and for the first time wonders if her mother is right. Should she really be running an endurance race in a little under twenty-four hours?

She cannot bear this any longer. She needs to talk to someone. She gets up and straightens her clothes, smooths her hair, then goes downstairs. The door to the front room is ajar, and she peeps around to see her dad in the armchair, reading. As a little girl she would have run across to him and jumped onto his lap without a second thought. Lately she can't even bring herself to catch his eye, for fear he'll somehow know the truth, and his disappointment will be clear.

She goes across to him. ‘Dad,' she whispers, stroking his arm.

He jumps at her touch and puts the book down. ‘Georgia, are you okay?'

‘I'm fine.' She pats his sleeve. ‘But I need to get out for a while. Can you take me to Bethany's?'

I
approach school for the second time today, having driven far too quickly away from Fellmere and down the long road towards Ambleside. School finishes at three-thirty, and I remembered my rescheduled appointment with Leticia only fifteen minutes before she was due outside my office door.

I had spent most of my brief time at home waiting to talk to Callum, but he had been busy making calls to the office and his clients. I'd sat idly at the kitchen table, watching my tea grow cold, listening to his voice, trying to calm down, and then Leticia's disappointed face that morning popped into my head.
Damn-damn-damn,
I'd muttered, thinking of her fragile, pale features. She was not someone I wanted to let down.

Before I left I had crept upstairs and risked looking in on Georgia, twisting the door handle as quietly as I could. She was turned to the wall, her breathing even – I waited long enough to watch her chest rise and fall a few times, a maternal habit left over from the kids' babyhood. I scribbled a note on one of her Post-Its and propped it on her bedside table, hoping she would stay asleep until I was back.

I had rushed into the front room to let Callum know I had to go out. He had his phone to his ear, but snapped it shut as soon as he saw me.

‘Who was that?'

‘It hadn't started ringing yet.' He frowned. ‘Are you okay?'

‘I have to go back to school. Georgia's asleep, and I have a client who's really struggling – I've cancelled on her once, and I don't want to do it again. If Georgia wakes up, can you tell her I'll be back as quickly as I can. Don't let her go anywhere, will you.'

Callum puts his phone in his pocket. ‘Look, Anya, we really need to talk about Georgia. I'm not sure we can—'

‘Cal, I haven't got time for this right now,' I yell over my shoulder as I head for the door. ‘I'll be back as soon as I can – okay?'

There had been no answer. As I drive I can't help but wish I hadn't cut Callum off. I want to know what he had planned to say. I force it to the back of my mind as I reach the school drive and begin to manoeuvre the car around the parent pick-up gridlock, pretending I'm oblivious to the dirty looks as I pull up illegally on a spare patch of grass.

The police car parked a few spaces ahead is getting curious glances, and as I hurry towards my office I'm aware that I'm the one who summoned it. Rounding the final corner, I see Leticia leaning against the wall, eyes on her phone. As I draw closer I hear murmurs coming from inside my room.

‘I thought you weren't going to show up,' Leticia says accusingly when she sees me.

‘I'm sorry.' My voice is brisk. ‘There's been a lot going on. Come on, let's see if we can find somewhere else that's private.'

But before we can leave, my office door opens. Danny appears, raising his eyebrows at me before he walks away. The policewomen behind him are about to follow when I step into their path.

‘I'm Mrs Turner. Georgia's mother. I called you earlier.'

I recognise PC Edwards from last night. She seems surprised to be accosted, but says, ‘Of course, I remember.'

‘So,' I fold my arms and then unfold them, not wanting to come across as too pushy. ‘Is there anything else I should know?'

‘Not as yet, Mrs Turner, but we'll keep you posted,' the other policewoman cuts in.

‘Is Georgia in any danger?' I demand, trying not to come across as a traumatised, neurotic mother, aware of Leticia watching.

‘Mrs Turner, we are taking Danny's recollection very seriously, but so far it's an isolated incident and we're doing everything we can to locate the driver. Try not to worry, but if anything out of the ordinary happens, then of course you should call us straightaway.'

I gather this is meant to pacify me, as they both stride quickly away. It does anything but. I am in the midst of imagining what might give us grounds to call them for help, when Leticia pipes up behind me. ‘Why is Georgia in danger?'

I had completely forgotten she was there. How unprofessional of me. Flustered, I take a few slow breaths to steady myself, then turn to her. ‘We don't know that she is – I'm just worried about her after last night.' I indicate the empty office. ‘Want to come in?'

Once we're sitting down I gather my wits. ‘So, how's your day been?'

She shrugs. ‘Okay,' she says as she fiddles with her long sleeves, repeatedly pulling them further down over her wrists. Then she focuses on me. ‘Is Georgia running tomorrow?'

Once again, my counselling session has ended up with my daughter as the topic of discussion. ‘I'm not sure,' I say reluctantly. ‘I think she'd like to.'

Leticia's eyes widen. ‘She's amazing.'

I want to contradict her, but I'm not sure why. Of course my daughter is amazing; even though her determination to participate in tomorrow's race is a little less than ideal.

‘What about you, Leticia? What have you got planned for the weekend?' I ask, hoping to get back on task.

Leticia shrugs. ‘Not much. Homework, I guess.' She is retreating now the topic has changed, withdrawing into her shell. She has been coming to see me for almost a year, so I am familiar with her body language. I press on, trying to draw her out again. ‘Is there anything on your mind today?'

‘Well,' she says, her shoulders sagging, ‘I'm really worried about the exams this year. I think I need to start practising some mock papers.'

By all accounts Leticia is a straight-A student. ‘Could it be a bit early in the year for that?' I suggest. ‘You could wait another month or two and still have plenty of time.'

Leticia looks doubtful. Future events are something she struggles with, wanting to control them as soon as she can, never able to relax unless she is implementing a plan. I think of the other ways she has shown her self-discipline recently: the carefully counted and sandwich-bagged portions of steamed rice; the apple split into segments, one or two pieces lasting the whole day as she nibbles on them.

I rarely steer Leticia to talk about her eating disorder. There are others better qualified to support her eating patterns, and my priority is to help her cope at school. She is seeing a collection of doctors and counsellors, but as yet she seems no better for it. However, occasionally in the past few sessions she has laughed. This, for me, is a breakthrough – but today I am not on form enough to help her. Today I can't think of anything funny to say. As she waits for me to speak, I find my mind completely blank. I think of Georgia sleeping at home, and realise she looks just as grey and drawn as Leticia. I have the overwhelming feeling that I should be there, not here. Leticia's problems feel too much for me right now.