Black Dog Summer (25 page)

“So what did nutty, hot Simone have to say for herself, then?” Liam asks.

“She told me that she's emigrating. The poor thing can't stand the thought of coming back to live in South Africa after what happened,” Adele says.

“Emigrating? Like leaving the country?” Bryony gasps.

“Duh, what else do you think it means, Bry?”

“What about the farm?” There's a headachy tightness at the base of Bryony's jaw.

“She's sold it, apparently,” Adele says. “Best choice she could've made, if you ask me.”

Bryony stares down at her strange food. She thinks of Gigi going on about how wonderful everything is going to be when she moves back with Simone and blinks hard to try to chase away the sudden shadows that seem to swim in from the corners of the bright kitchen. “Oh, shame,” she whispers.

“What was that, Bry?” Adele asks.

“Nothing.”

“Well, Gigi's obviously taking this news rather badly. I think I'd better go up and talk to her,” Liam says, pushing his chair back from the table. “We really can't have all this staying-in-bed nonsense again.”

Adele gives her husband a brief, sharp look, and then shrugs. “Be my guest.”

“She's going to be staying with us forever now, isn't she?” Bryony asks as her father makes his way round the table.

“Well, of course she is, Bry, we're her legal guardians,” Liam says as he passes her chair and gives her hair a quick ruffle. “She was never going to be going anywhere else. Nothing's changed.”

“Gigi?” Liam walks into the bedroom and switches on the light. “Honey, you're missing dinner.”

The racing-car-patterned lump remains motionless. Liam hovers at the foot of her bed and rubs the back of his neck.

“Seeing Simone again must've brought back a lot of memories, hey?” Still the bedding does not move. Liam notices the red, rubbery edge of one dirty flip-flop sticking out from beneath the duvet cover. “I know you're feeling pretty upset right now, but just imagine what a wacky world it would be if everyone just dived into bed with their shoes on every time something went wrong.” He gives a soft laugh. “My law firm would be a very different place, I'll tell you that!”

A mosquito, drawn by the light in the room, hums out of hiding and whines close to Liam's ear. He tries to swat it, misses, tries again, and slaps himself unexpectedly hard on his right cheek. At the sound of the slap the bedding lump twitches.

“Ah, so you are awake, then?” Liam says, leaning over the spot where he thinks Gigi's head must be. “Come on out, Gigisaurus. We're all waiting for you at the table.” His no-nonsense tone has no effect. Gigi remains hidden, still and silent. “Right, I think it's time to shed a little light on the situation, hey? What do you think, Gi? No means no, and no answer means yes.” He pauses, waiting. Nothing.

“Okeydokey!” he says in a too loud, jocular voice. “The time has come.” With that, Liam lunges forward and whips the bedding off the bed. Gigi is curled on one side with her knees pulled up and her school tunic riding high on her thighs, barely covering her panties. Her hands fly to the hem of the dress to try to yank it down, and then she rises off the bed like a fury, her face very white.

“How dare you?” she screams at Liam, who leaps back, startled and horrified. “What kind of pervy old asshole are you?”

“I didn't mean . . . you know I was just trying to get you to come down to sup—”

“You had no right to do that! Get out!” Gigi sobs and spits at him; her whole body is vibrating with indignant rage.

“Come on, Gigi, you know that I—”

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!” she howls like an animal, and the sound is so electrifying that Liam cannot move at all. He just stands and gapes at the unrecognizable girl with her distorted mouth, wild hair, and now bright-red face.

“What is going on up here?” Tyler bursts through the door, breathless from his sprint up the stairs. “Dad, is—”

“You!” Gigi whirls around to face Tyler. “Why the fuck won't you leave me alone?”

“Tyler?” Adele calls up the stairs in a high-pitched, frightened voice.

“Are you people DEAF?” Gigi screams, her voice now hoarse and breaking. “GET OUT!”

Tyler, white-lipped, reverses back the way he came, bumping into Bryony, who has just arrived to see what's going on, and hustling her away from the door to make way for Liam. Liam hesitates, staring at his raging niece for a moment before striding out of the room in such a way that it looks like doing so was his idea all along. As soon as he's on the landing with the rest of the gathered Wildings, Gigi slams the bedroom door shut.

They all gape at the blank white wood. Nobody moves. From the other side of the door they can still hear helpless, furious sobbing.

“Come on, everyone,” Adele whispers at last. “Let's give her some space.”

“We haven't finished supper,” Liam adds, as if this is suddenly very important.

They all back away from the door and start trooping down the stairs. Bryony, walking behind her father, notices that his ears are pink and his hand on the banister is shaking.

“What happened?” Adele mouths to Liam, but he just shakes his head.

Bryony pauses on the threshold of her bedroom. She's tingly from her bath, and her head, which feels light and empty and strange, seems to be missing out on some of its regular supply of blood. She grips the
doorframe to steady herself as she peers into the darkness. Gigi has returned to her bed, and the room is stuffy and silent.

I really don't want to go in
. But her eyelids are heavy and her limbs feel all achy as if she's been playing hockey all day. Her need to lie down overwhelms her trepidation, and she stumbles into the bedroom and clambers into her bed, tucking the cherry duvet high up under her chin and facing the wall away from Gigi.

Demon Zombies with PMS. That's a good one. I must remember to tell Dommie tomorrow . . .

Bryony dreams. She's at school. The bell rings and everyone is grabbing their bags and rushing off, chattering. It seems to take Bryony ages and ages to get her things together, and by the time she's ready to leave, the corridors are empty and full of echoes. She hears someone laugh, and the patter of school shoes on the shiny concrete around the corner, but then, nothing.

It is late. Why is she at school so late? She begins to run towards the gate, praying that her mother is still waiting for her in her big silver car. The street is empty. No Mercedes. There's no one around at all.

But the black dog is back.

It is waiting at the bottom of the school steps. It cocks its head to one side and opens its jaws, wider and wider, impossibly wide. Darkness, like putrid vomit, streams from its throat and coats the road, the steps, Bryony's shoes. It billows up around her legs, blankets the buildings across the street, and clots the sky. She can no longer tell what is dog and what is darkness.

And then she is swallowing the darkness down into her; she can feel it ripping her throat up and sinking into her belly.

Bryony screams and screams till her throat is raw, but her voice is nothing but night.

Bryony wakes up drenched in sweat. Her mouth is jammed open and has glued the side of her face to the pillow with drool. Her throat feels
as if it is on fire. She opens her eyes, but the room is inky black, and she cannot even make out the lump of Gigi in the bed on the other side of it.

“Mom,” she croaks, but everything is dried up, and no sound comes out. She drags herself, shivering, from beneath the covers, and flinches when her feet touch the carpet. The soft pile feels like hairbrush bristles on her tender soles. She braves the pain, and forces herself to stand up, but her head swims, and she collapses to a half-crouch, hurting the backs of her thighs on the wooden edge of the bed as she goes down.

One breath.

Another breath.

She manages to stand properly this time, and, clutching the wall for support, even though it is icy cold beneath her fingers, she makes her way to the door and out onto the landing. It's lighter out here thanks to the spill of moonlight coming in through the curtainless window in the bathroom.

“Mom.” Her voice is a harsh rasp that slices through her aching throat. “Mom, I think I'm sick.” She grabs for the door handle of her parents' room and falls against it.

“Bryony? Good heavens, what is it?” Adele sits up in alarm when her daughter stumbles into the room.

“I had a really bad nightmare and I think I'm sick.”

“Oh dear, sweetie, come on, let me feel your forehead,” Adele whispers. Beside her, Liam grunts in his sleep and turns over. “Good Lord, you're burning up. How's your throat?”

“Sore,” Bryony says, and begins to cry.

“I bet it's those nasty tonsils again, isn't it? We haven't heard a peep from them in ages, have we?” Adele gets out of bed and pulls on her dressing gown. “Come on, let's dose you up so you can get some decent sleep and we'll see how you're doing in the morning.”

“I don't want to sleep,” Bryony whimpers as her mother leads her out of the room and deposits her on the closed lid of the toilet in the family bathroom down the hall.

“I know, sweetie. You must feel awful.” Adele's skin looks pale and slack in the harsh neon light, but she smiles a reassurance to her
daughter before rooting through the medicine cupboard. “But the medicine will help.”

“The nightmare . . .”

“It was just a dream, Bry, probably a result of your nasty fever.”

“Well, I don't want to go back to the bedroom.”

“Don't be silly, angel, you need some proper sleep to get better. Open wide.”

“But I don't want to.” Bryony sniffs but then opens her mouth to receive the brimming plastic medicine spoon. The sugar in the mixture both burns and soothes her raging throat.

“That should make you feel better. Come along, I'll put you to bed.”

“But I don't . . .” Bryony is too weak and weepy to argue properly, and she can already feel the medicine pillowing her bones and slowing down her thoughts.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Adele helps her up and leads her back to the dark bedroom. “You'll feel so much better in the morning.”

BRYONY IS
awoken by her mother's hand on her forehead. She blinks up at Adele with glazed, gummy eyes. The room is filled with pale gray light.

“Someone is definitely not going to school today, hey?” Adele says with a smile. “Sit up, angel, let's get another spoon of good stuff into you, quick quick.” She supports Bryony's lolling head with one hand, and dishes in a sweet spoon of syrup with the other. “Good girl, now lie back down again.” She helps her daughter back onto the pillow.

Bryony's eyes close almost at once.

“Dora is here to bring you anything you need this morning, OK? I'll be back just after twelve.”

“Why can't you be here?” Bryony mumbles.

“I've got an appointment, sweetie. It's my hair salon day, and after that I've got a big grocery shop to do. Don't worry, you'll be right as rain, and I'll probably be back before you even wake up.”

Bryony sinks back into oblivion.

“Gigi?”

Curled up beneath her own covers on the other side of the room, Gigi, who has not slept a wink all night and is no longer quite sure what is real and what isn't, hears Adele whisper her name. She holds her breath. Waits.

“Time to get up and get ready for school.”

Gigi's hands have been clenched into stiff, aching fists for hours, but now she clenches them tighter. Little sparkles of pain dart up her wrists and shoot into her elbows. The air beneath the duvet is stuffy and hot, and, even through the bedding, she can smell the sugar-coated bitter stench of Bryony's medicine.

“Come on, Gigi,” Adele tries again, and Gigi can hear her stepping closer to her bed. She wouldn't dare, would she?

“It's enough of this now.” Adele's whisper is firm and furious, but quickly disintegrates into a sudden, unexpected sob. Gigi squeezes her eyes shut and waits. A minute ticks by. And then another. She hears Adele's feet on the carpet as she adjusts her stance and the very faint sound of Bryony's labored breathing.

Gigi forces herself not to move despite the fact that her muscles are screaming from lying in one position so long. Tears leak out from beneath her quivering eyelids. She bites her lip.
Don't move, don't move.

“Hey, where is everyone?” Tyler's voice cuts into the silence. He's shouting from the landing at the top of the stairs by the sound of it. “Mom? I'm going to be late for school.”

Gigi imagines Tyler missing a step, losing his grip on the banister, and falling. Bump bump, down and down till he smashes his head on the hard, shiny tiles of the entrance hall floor. Then she imagines it again, only this time she makes his ankle catch in between the balustrades and snap against the force of his falling body as he plummets.

It gives her something to focus on in order to maintain her now agonizing motionlessness.

“Shit,” Adele mutters, and, at long last, moves away from Gigi's bed. Her footsteps grow fainter until Gigi can no longer make them out, but it is only when she hears the murmuring of Adele's voice talking to Tyler and Dora in the kitchen below that she allows her aching body to move. She's dying to stretch out into the cool corners of the bed and stick her head out for the relief of fresh air, but she only permits herself one position change, one shift of each muscle before she forces herself into stillness once more.

Strange dark flowers bloom on the insides of her eyelids.

Once Liam's and Adele's cars have both left the garage below and the sound of their engines have faded and blended with the distant roar of morning traffic, Gigi removes the covers from over her head and sits up. Her muscles are stiff and quivery, and her hollow belly, which has now missed two meals, gives an echoey kind of growl. She glances over to Bryony's bed, but the patient does not stir; she sleeps with her
mouth open and a heavy kind of limpness that indicates she would be very hard to rouse should anyone try.