Butterfly Summer (8 page)

“Earth to Becky.” Mack waved his hand in front of my face.

“Sorry, that freaked me out a bit. It’s just that I’m scared of spirits and haunted houses and stuff like that, and I
hate
horror movies.” I glanced up at him, embarrassed. I probably sounded like the world’s biggest wimp. “What do you do around here then?” I said quickly, to change the subject. “Do you play rugby?”

“Yep. Every Saturday morning.” He flexed his arms like a bodybuilder. “Training on Saturdays and matches on Sundays – but not in this sort of heat.”

We set off from the green, trailing up one of the small, winding lanes. The sun was high in the sky and burning hot. I’d always been shy around boys. At my old school, the cool guys were a million miles out of reach. They were so in love with themselves, they’d never pay the slightest attention to someone like me. But Mack seemed different. He was cool and very cute, but he made me laugh.

We criss-crossed our way around Oakbridge, past the village hall and across a field of sheep. I was more than happy to let Mack lead the way as long as we didn’t end up at the church. He chatted on as if we’d known each other for years – funny stories about school and rugby and life in a small village. He somehow made Oakbridge sound as if it was the most interesting place on earth.

We must’ve gone round in a massive circle because after an hour or so we ended up back at the green. It was sweltering hot and I was dying for a drink. Mack grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the Jacksons’.

“There’s one more place I want to take you, but we’ll need provisions.”

I pulled back, shaking my arm free. “It’s not the Butterfly Garden, is it?” I couldn’t face introducing him to Rosa May. Not today. “I don’t mind, it’s just that I’ve been there already. More than once actually.”

“No, you’re alright,” he said. “It’s not the Butterfly Garden.” He stopped for a second outside the shop. “Watch out for Mrs. Jackson though,” he whispered. “I know she looks like a sweet old lady, but she is in fact an undercover spy working for the secret service. Pass me your phone for a minute and I’ll give you my number – just in case you ever find yourself in danger.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to be in danger? From Mrs. Jackson?”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” he said.

Inside the shop, I walked up to the counter with a bottle of water, trying to keep a straight face.

“Hello, Becky, my love,” said Mrs. Jackson, smiling her crinkly smile. “I didn’t know you and Mack were friends.”

“We’ve only just met,” I said, grinning. I felt like I’d been grinning non-stop ever since Mack turned up on the doorstep. “He’s showing me around the village.”

“Isn’t that nice. We missed you at church this morning. And you, Mackie Williams.”

Mack held his hands up. “To tell you the truth, Mrs. Jackson, I couldn’t make it to the service this morning because I was taking a very important call from the Prime Minister.”

“Get away with you,” she said.

“I kid you not,” said Mack seriously. “But don’t ask me what it was about, because if I tell you I’ll have to kill you.”

Mrs. Jackson’s shoulders shook with laughter. “I think the sun’s affected your brain,” she said. “Why don’t you take an ice lolly to cool yourself down – and you take one too, Becky. You deserve it, walking about in this ghastly heat.”

Mack led me out around the back of the shop and across the road into a small wooded area. It was slightly cooler there, and as we wove our way through the tall, leafy trees, I felt as if I was in the middle of a fairy tale where absolutely anything might happen. Mack stopped suddenly in front of a den. Tree stumps and old branches and planks of wood nailed together to make a small, secret hideaway.

“Wow, what’s this?”

Mack laughed. “
This
is where I come when I need to get away from my nagging mum! I built it years ago with my dad and I’m pretty sure no one else knows it’s here. Except for my dad, of course – and now you.”

My tummy flipped over again. It was crazy. I was standing in the middle of a wood with the cutest boy I’d ever met in my life. It should’ve freaked me out, but for some reason I felt okay. Like I could trust him. We crawled into the den and sat with our knees up, facing each other, finishing our ice lollies. The ground was hard and covered in old leaves and twigs, but it didn’t matter.

Mack drew noughts and crosses in the dust with his lolly stick and we played best-of-three and then best-of-five. He won every time, cracking joke after joke to distract me and then accidentally-on-purpose rubbing out the entire grid on the one go I actually came close to beating him.

“I have never met such a cheat in my life!” I cried, grabbing the lolly stick and drawing another grid.

“My mum taught me that, years ago. Always bring the game to a close if you’re in danger of losing! Hey, did you know that according to my mum we actually knew each other when we were babies?”

I stared at him.

“In fact you
could
say that this is
The Big Reunion
.”

“We couldn’t have known each other when we were babies. There’s no way. My mum left Oakbridge before I was born.”

Mack shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Maybe my mum used to visit your mum then, after she moved. At her new place.”

I frowned, racking my brains. Every time I tried to think of the past it was dark and murky, filled with difficult, unanswered questions.

I shook my head. “She can’t have. We’ve never met before, Mack. I’m sure of it.”

“I know it’s hard to imagine
anyone
forgetting someone like me,” he laughed, “but you were probably, like, two months old at the time.”

“Big-head!” I swiped him with the lolly stick. “How did your camping trip go, by the way?”

Mack rolled his eyes. “Survival in the wild – my dad’s idea of fun. You should’ve seen us trying to build a fire, it was the biggest joke. We ended up eating cold baked beans out of the tin for three days in a row!”

I smiled but my tummy clenched up. I’d eat cold baked beans out of the tin for the rest of my life if it meant I could go camping with
my
dad. “How often do you see him? Is it only in the holidays?” I looked down, worried I was being too personal, but Mack seemed totally unfazed.

“No, I see him most weekends,” he said. “He’s really into rugby so he comes to the games, and I see him whenever I go swimming.”

My head snapped back up. Not someone else who was mad on swimming!

“He works at the leisure centre in Farnsbury,” he went on. “You should come with me next time. I can get you in for free.”

“You’re alright,” I said. “Come on, we should be getting back.” My palms were slick with sweat. I don’t know what it was about Oakbridge, but it seemed as if everyone was obsessed with swimming. First Rosa May and now Mack. Either that or it was just too hot for anyone to imagine doing anything else.

“You’re not turning me down, are you?” said Mack as we made our way out of the woods and back to the green. “It’s the hottest summer on record,
ever
, and I’m offering you free entry to a great swimming pool and you’re
turning me down
?” He put his hands together, pleading. “Seriously, Becky – I’m going on Thursday with a couple of mates and I need you there to make sure they don’t splash me.”

“Very funny,” I said, but I couldn’t help smiling.

“So you’ll come then? Go on, it’ll be a laugh.”

What was I supposed to say? That I’d never been to a swimming pool in my life? That I was terrified of water? That I wanted to learn how to swim more than anything in the whole world?

I nodded and shrugged and shook my head all at the same time.

“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

My excitement about meeting Mack faded pretty quickly. The more I thought about the time we’d spent together, the more uneasy I felt. It was one thing wandering around Oakbridge, or playing noughts and crosses in his den, but the idea of going swimming,
and
with a load of his friends, made me want to run a mile in the opposite direction. It’s not just that I can’t swim, it’s more this feeling I get whenever I’m near water that something terrible is going to happen.

I lay in bed that night, trying to work out why I was so scared. It’s not as if anything bad had ever happened to me. Not around water anyway. We never went on holiday to the beach and Mum never took me for lessons, but I guess somewhere along the line she must’ve passed her own fear on to me.

In Year Three the rest of my class drove off in a coach every Wednesday afternoon to the local swimming pool – but for some reason I was always excused. I don’t know how Mum persuaded them to let me stay behind. I just remember sitting in another class doing a load of boring worksheets while my friends trooped off together, thrilled to be escaping school for a couple of hours.

It suddenly seemed very important to find out why Mum wouldn’t let me learn to swim. I’d never questioned it before, but if I’d gone to the lessons back then, I’d be able to swim in the lake with Rosa May and hang out at the pool with Mack – normal things that other people seemed to take for granted. What did Mum actually say to my teacher to convince her I should be allowed to miss swimming every week for a whole year? I decided to ask her in the morning, first thing. She might refuse to talk about the past, especially when it came to my dad, but surely this was something she could help me to understand.

I fell into a deep sleep. In my dreams, I was away camping with my dad and we’d built the most brilliant fire. It was blistering hot, sparks flying everywhere, the heat and smoke making my eyes sting. I was so happy I could’ve stayed there for ever – but at some point Dad went off to find more wood for the fire. I sat there all alone, the dark closing in on me. I waited for hours, until the fire had burned down to nothing – but he didn’t come back. It was as if the night had swallowed him whole.

I woke to the sound of Mum pottering about in the kitchen. I got dressed as fast as I could, determined to ask her about the swimming lessons, but as I was coming downstairs she called out that she was leaving and I heard the door slam shut behind her. I stood in the middle of the kitchen, the silence rising up around me. It felt as if Mum and I were growing further and further apart. She was avoiding me, rushing out of the house, scared I might ask her about my dad.

Something made me look towards the door – I don’t know what it was; a shadow, a flicker of movement in the hallway. “Hello?” My voice was high and breathless. “Hello? Is anyone there?” I said again, my heart hammering in my chest. I crept towards the door and flung it open. A bright yellow flyer fluttered down from the letter box to the floor. I could see from where I was standing that it was an advert for a local window cleaner.

I almost laughed out loud. I must’ve looked so stupid, standing there in an empty room, talking to myself. The house was spooky but it wasn’t haunted. There were no evil spirits lurking about here for Mrs. Wilson to cast out, just a few cobwebs and dusty corners. Even so, I decided to give breakfast a miss and set off for the Butterfly Garden earlier than usual. I hadn’t seen Rosa May since Saturday and I couldn’t wait to tell her about my afternoon with Mack.

She was on the bridge when I arrived. I could see her across the field, standing with her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. I jumped up and down, waving, and she flew off the bridge, charging towards me as if we hadn’t seen each other for years.

“Where were you?” she cried. “I waited and waited.” She flung her arms around my neck, hugging me hard.

I laughed, pleased to see her. “Not so tight, Rosa May! Hey, let go, I can’t breathe!” I prised her arms off me. “Come on, I’ve got loads to tell you.”

We ran though the grass and over the bridge, settling down in our favourite shady spot. It was Monday morning and there was hardly anyone else around. I reached out for Rosa May’s hand, feeling almost relieved to be back at the Garden with her.

“So, you’ll never guess what happened yesterday,” I said. But before I could finish, she snatched her hand away and sat up.

“You’ll never guess what happened
here
yesterday,” she said. Her voice was tight. She paused for a minute, as if it was difficult to go on. “I’m almost certain I saw a Silver-studded Blue.”

“No way!”

“
Yes
way! It’s true. I was up on the bridge, waiting for you, when this blue and silver butterfly flew over my head. I followed it round and round, but every time I got close enough to check for sure, it flew on and it was impossible to tell.”

“I can’t believe I missed it. Where did it go?”

“I don’t know, over there somewhere.” She waved her hand behind her. “But that’s not the point, is it? The point is, if you’d been here we could’ve headed it off, one on each side. I
needed
you here. It was useless trying to do it alone.”

“I’m sorry, Rosa May. I was planning to come but I got to sleep really late and then I slept in and then Mack came over...”

“Mack?” A cloud passed across her face.

“Yes, Mack, you know. The boy I thought I was meeting that first day I met you.”