Butterfly Summer (12 page)

“No, I can’t.” I shook my head, moving back.

“Seriously, Becky. You’ve got to trust me. I’m not going to do anything silly. Just put your legs round my waist, hold onto my shoulders and everything will be fine.”

It was as if I was in some sort of hypnotic trance. I leaned forward, still shaking my head, as Mack lifted me up and lowered me down into the pool. It was so cold I gasped, grabbing his shoulders and digging my nails in as hard as I could. He didn’t even flinch. He just held me in the water, bobbing very gently up and down. I didn’t know whether to die of embarrassment or fear.

“Don’t drop me,” I said. I was nearly in tears.

He pulled a face. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to – you’ve surgically attached yourself to me with your nails.” I started to laugh then, but dug my nails in deeper just in case he thought I was okay.

The water lapped against us. Gradually my heart slowed down and I relaxed my grip. It wasn’t nice exactly, but I didn’t feel as if I was about to die. I kept telling myself that I wasn’t born scared, it was just something I’d learned along the way, and Mack kept bouncing very gently, moving me around so that I didn’t get too cold.

“You’re doing so well, Becky,” he said. “In fact you’re my best student ever!”

“Your only student, you mean,” I said.

“So far,” said Mack. “And you see, even if I let go of you – which I won’t – nothing would happen because you’d be able to just stand up on your own. It’s too shallow for anything to go wrong.” He smiled and I could feel myself melt. He was just so nice.

“Next time,” I said, surprising myself, “next time we come, I’ll stand.”

Mum was in the kitchen when I got home. There were dishes everywhere and it was beginning to smell. She was sitting at the table with a piece of red puzzle in her hand.

“Look, I’ve made a start on the poppies,” she said. “They’re so much easier than the sky.” The sky was finished and there were little piles of red dotted about in front of her. I didn’t get too close in case she realized I’d been swimming. My hair was dry but I could still smell the chlorine on my skin. It would’ve been so great to tell her. To share the day. The secrets between us were growing out of control, like some sort of mutant bacteria.

“Have you called up about any of those jobs in the paper?” I asked. “I mean, the puzzle looks great, but you haven’t been doing it all day, have you? Maybe you could even speak to someone at Hartons? See if they have something else you could do.”

“Don’t start nagging, Becky. I’m not feeling too good. I’ll get onto it tomorrow, I promise.”

Another promise she wouldn’t keep. Mum had changed so much since we got to Oakbridge. She’d always been secretive about the past, but now it was as if she was disappearing inside herself. She was hiding something from me, something bad, something to do with Oakbridge and my dad and the photo under the bed, and I badly needed to know what it was.

I stopped at the doorway watching her for a moment. She was concentrating on the puzzle, fiddling around with one of the pieces, but her face was as sad as I’d ever seen it. “Mum, I was just wondering, are you sure we never came to Oakbridge, you know, after you moved away?”

She looked up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“It just seems weird, in a way, that you left and never came back. And I keep getting this feeling...”

“What sort of feeling?”

“I don’t know, just a funny feeling. Like certain places in Oakbridge feel so familiar sometimes.”

She looked back down at the puzzle. “I never came back here after I left. Not once.” Her voice was shaking slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must be imagining things. Where have you been exactly? Where did you get this feeling?”

I shook my head, sighing. “Look, it doesn’t matter. Forget it. I’m going up to my room.”

I tossed and turned for most of the night – it was so unbearably hot. I kept thinking about Mack and the pool and the way I felt when I first walked into the building. How could some place I’d never been to feel so familiar? I could never explain to Mum. It was just a sense, a distant recollection, but the noise and the smell – they’d felt as real as if I’d been going there all my life.

It was almost morning by the time I finally dropped off to sleep. I dreamed about my dad. We were swimming underwater and it was completely silent. I was dying to see his face but it was fuzzy and out of focus. I tried to get closer, but no matter how fast I swam he was always that little bit faster.
Keep still, can’t you?
I kept thinking. But when I finally caught up and grabbed him by the shoulders to take a proper look, it wasn’t my dad at all. It was Rosa May.

I woke with a start. I didn’t know where I was. That strange feeling when you’re still half in your dream. I forced myself out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts. I was exhausted, but I had to get to the Butterfly Garden as early as possible if I was ever going to spot the Silver-studded Blue.
And
if Rosa May was going to forgive me for not turning up yesterday.

I popped my head round Mum’s door just before I left. The room was dark and stuffy. “I’m off now,” I said. “Shall I open the curtains for you?” She didn’t answer, and as I got a bit closer to give her a kiss, I realized the bed was empty. I turned on the light, confused. It was the first day she’d been up before me since she’d left her job.

Downstairs, the kitchen was still a mess, but it didn’t look as if she’d had any breakfast and the kettle was stone cold. She must’ve crept out at some point, either earlier on, or maybe even late last night. I thought about calling Stella, telling her I was worried, but I didn’t want to make a big fuss over nothing. It wasn’t as if Mum was a child. In the end I left her a note asking her to ring me as soon as she came in. She probably wouldn’t be able to get a signal anyway, but I wasn’t sure what else to do.

I raced all the way to the Butterfly Garden, but there was no sign of Rosa May either. She wasn’t on the bridge or lying in our usual shady spot under the trees. The Garden felt empty without her. What if she was still angry? What if she’d been serious when she said she wasn’t going to bother showing up? If only I could take back what I’d said when we rowed. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I really needed to see her.

I picked out a tiny pink butterfly while I was waiting and began to follow it around. It was one of our favourite games, but it felt lonely playing it by myself. The butterfly settled on a flower for a few moments and then took off across the field. I rushed after it, pretending it was magic and that it would lead me straight to Rosa May.
The Garden is full of magic butterflies
, she was always saying,
you just have to know how to spot them
.

I followed the butterfly down to the lake. It hovered around the edge for a bit, flitting from flower to flower, before flying straight across the middle. I dashed onto the bridge as fast as I could, and over to the other side, but there was no sign of it. I ran one way and then another and was on the verge of giving up when it appeared suddenly from behind a tree.

“You’re back,” I cried, wishing it was Rosa May, desperate to see her, but just then an identical pink butterfly flew out from behind the same tree and it was impossible to tell them apart.

I collapsed down in the grass and watched the butterfly twins chase each other around. I wondered what Mack was doing right that minute. My face grew warm thinking about the way he’d held me in the water; how embarrassing it felt to be that close to him, even if it was only a swimming lesson. The two pink butterflies flew over my head. I swivelled round, trying to keep my eye fixed on one without getting it confused with the other, when I noticed a woman on the other side of the lake. There were quite a few people around that morning and she had her back to me, but there was something about her that caught my attention.

She was dressed all wrong for a start. She had a heavy coat wrapped around her, as if it was the middle of winter, and she was wearing short, furry boots. I recognized the coat and the boots straight away. I’d seen them a hundred times. I shrank back into the grass, holding my breath as she turned round and stared straight out across the lake. It was Mum.

I crouched down, making myself as small as possible. I had no idea what she was doing there, but I didn’t want her to see me. It was impossible to make out her face from so far away, but for some reason I was sure she was crying. She was bent over slightly, and every now and then she swept her hand across her eyes.

I crept backwards, inching my way through the grass, watching her the whole time. What if she was sleepwalking? What if she wandered straight into the lake? I had to stop myself from calling out. What was she
doing
here? It was awful the way she was hunched over like that in her big winter coat. I wanted to go to her, to help her, but I didn’t want her to know I’d been coming to the Garden. My body felt heavy, weighed down. I didn’t know what to do.

I was still creeping back, just watching her, when someone grabbed me from behind. I whipped round, scared out of my wits, but it was only Rosa May.

“Don’t do that,” I hissed. “You nearly gave me heart failure!”

“I nearly gave
you
heart failure? What on earth are you doing?”

I pulled her down next to me, my heart beating so fast I could barely speak.

“What’s the matter, Becky? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s my mum. Over there on the other side of the lake. But I don’t want her to see me.”

Rosa May looked out across the water. She didn’t say anything for ages, she just stared.

“I know she looks strange,” I said, a bit embarrassed. “I don’t know why she’s wearing that coat when it’s so hot.”

“What’s she doing here?”

“I’m not sure. She left the house before I got up. She’s been acting really weird lately, especially since she left her job.”

Rosa May dragged her eyes away from Mum. “Have you told her about coming here? Does she know we meet every day?”

I shook my head, still trying to catch my breath.

She grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight. “Is that why you didn’t come yesterday?” she said urgently. “Because of your mum?”

I didn’t know what to say. If I told her I’d been swimming with Mack, she wouldn’t understand. She’d asked me to go swimming with her so many times – she’d literally begged me – but some of the things she did when she was messing about in the lake scared me half to death. The last thing I wanted to do was lie to her, but I couldn’t face telling her the truth either.

“She’s leaving, look.” Rosa May nudged me, pointing at Mum. “Come on, let’s go down to the bell heather and see if we can spot the Silver-studded Blue.”

She pulled me up and we ran across the meadow, our hands laced together. I looked back a few times, but Mum had disappeared.

The rest of the morning dragged by. Rosa May was hyped up and restless. She wanted to play a new game, but I wasn’t in the mood. It involved trapping a butterfly with our bare hands and then awarding each other points based on how rare it was.

“I’m not playing that,” I said. “It’s cruel. Why would you want to catch a butterfly anyway? Let’s take some photos instead. We could try to get some really good close-up shots...”

Rosa May rolled her eyes, groaning. “Not photos again! That’s all you ever want to do. It’s
sooo
boring.”

“Well, what’s so exciting about catching a poor, defenceless butterfly? What are you going to do with it once you’ve caught it?”

“Let it go of course,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Challenging me to argue. “Why are you being such a killjoy? You might as well go home.”

I went along with it in the end. I didn’t want to, but I was tired and she dragged me into the game while I was still saying no. I hated the idea of trapping something so fragile, but Rosa May set about catching a butterfly as if her life depended on it. It seemed to take for ever but eventually she crept up behind a big yellow and black Swallowtail, closing her hands around it as it settled on a flower for some nectar.

The butterfly went crazy, beating its wings in terror, frantically trying to break free. The noise was awful.

“Stop it!” I cried. “Let it go!” I grabbed hold of her hands, forcing them open.

“What are you doing?” yelled Rosa May. “You’ve spoiled the game. It’s not like I was going to hurt it.”

“I don’t care. It’s horrible. I’m not playing any more.”

Rosa May laughed, her eyes wild. “Suit yourself,” she said, and skipped off, hands cupped together, ready to try again.

I lay in the grass, watching her. I’d never seen her so manic. It reminded me of this boy, Martin, at primary school, who used to have these sudden blowout rages.
It’s as if you’ve got the very devil in you, Martin
, our teacher would say
,
and she’d wrap her arms around him and hold him tight until he calmed down.

She raced round and round the field, stalking every butterfly in sight, until she exhausted herself.

“You were right, this game’s rubbish,” she said in the end, flopping down next to me. She was lying so close I could hear her heart beating hard, like the wings of the trapped butterfly.