Butterfly Summer (9 page)

Her eyes were small, hard stones. “I know who you mean, Becky. I just can’t believe that you chose seeing him over seeing me.”

“I didn’t
choose
him, silly. He just turned up out of the blue and offered to show me round Oakbridge. He’s really nice, and so cute you wouldn’t believe. You can come with us next time if you want.”

“So you’re seeing him
again
. Like, for a proper date?”

I laughed to lighten the mood. “I doubt it. It’s a nightmare. He asked me to go swimming at the leisure centre in Farnsbury with some of his mates, but I said no. Well, I said I’d think about it, but I have thought about it and I’m not going. You know how much I hate swimming.”

I could’ve asked Rosa May to come with us, but imagine how stupid I’d feel when Mack saw what a brilliant swimmer she was – it would be worse than going on my own. Rosa May breathed out as if she was relieved.

“I don’t think you should see him again anyway,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I bet he only came over because it’s the summer holidays and he was bored.”

“No he didn’t. He’s really nice.” I was fed up of talking about it. I thought she’d be excited, ask me for all the details.

We sat there in silence for a bit and then Rosa May threw her arm round me. “I wasn’t being mean, Becky, it’s just you know what boys are like.” She pulled me down in the grass suddenly, her eyes crossed, her arms and legs flailing out in every direction. “Stay away from me!” she moaned. “I’m part of a very dangerous species called Boy.”

I started to laugh. It was impossible to stay cross with her for long. “What are you doing? You’re crazy!”

“Beware of Boys!” she cried, rolling on top of me and pinning me down. Her hair fell forward, covering my face. “Beware of the evil species called Boy!” She let go of one hand and began to tickle me all over. I tried to push her off but she was too strong.

“Stop!” I gasped. “Stop! I surrender! I give up!” I was laughing so hard I thought I was going to throw up. “Please, Rosa May,
please
, I can’t breathe!”

“Promise then,” she said, holding my arms so tight it hurt. “Promise you’ll never choose him over me.”

“Okay, I promise, just get
off
! It’s not funny any more!
Get off me!
”

She rolled off and we lay back in the grass, panting. Her moods could flip so quickly it was scary. I stared up at the sky; it was dazzling blue, like Mum’s puzzle, except it went on for ever.

“Do you want to see something amazing?” said Rosa May. “I spotted it early this morning while I was waiting for you and if we’re lucky we might still be in time.”

She pulled me up and I followed her through the grass, back to the bridge. Sometimes I thought I’d follow her anywhere. “We need to crouch down here,” she said, stopping right by the edge of the water. She shuffled forward a bit, pulling me with her, but I shrank back, pressing my toes into the ground.

“Not too close, I don’t want to slip.” I knew she’d think I was a wimp but I couldn’t help it.

She edged closer herself and pointed to an area of grass to her left. “Look,” she whispered, “there, hanging on that twig near the ground. Can you see?”

I shook my head, leaning forward as far as I dared, craning my neck.

“Right there,” she hissed, pointing again...and suddenly I could see. It was a chrysalis, so transparent I could actually make out the butterfly folded up inside.

“It’s ready to come out,” said Rosa May. “See how it’s pulsating like that? It means any minute now the chrysalis will split open.”

I took a tiny step forward and eased myself down onto my tummy. Rosa May did the same, lying next to me.

“It’s a Tiger,” she said, still whispering. “Bright orange and black to warn off predators.”

We lay in the grass by the lake, watching the chrysalis. I held up my phone, ready to take photos. Nothing happened for a while and then very, very slowly the butterfly began to emerge. The head came first, its antennae uncurling in the morning sun. There was a pause after that, just for a few moments, and then suddenly, in a rush, the body appeared, thrusting itself out of the chrysalis almost in one go. It hung, suspended in mid-air, as its spindly legs tried to make contact with the end of the chrysalis.

I grasped hold of Rosa May’s hand. “It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” I breathed. “A new life starting right before our eyes.”

The butterfly stretched out its wings. They looked impossibly fragile and I held my breath as a tiny breeze caught it by surprise.

“Don’t worry,” said Rosa May. “Its wings are much stronger than they look – or they will be very soon.”

We lay there together in the grass until the butterfly took its first feeble flight. It was like watching the greatest magic trick in the world; a grubby little caterpillar turning into a beautiful butterfly. I took some amazing shots, recording everything from the second the butterfly emerged from its chrysalis until its wings were strong enough for it to fly. I turned to take one of Rosa May, her eyes wide as she watched the flame-coloured butterfly flutter from flower to flower, but she leaped up suddenly, skipping off across the field.

“Come on, Becky!” she cried, calling back to me. “Let’s follow it round, see where it goes next!”

Later on, when I was walking home, I kept replaying the moment the butterfly burst out of the chrysalis, fully formed and ready to start its new life. Squashed in one minute, free the next. It gave me a funny feeling in my tummy, like I wanted to break free myself. I started to run down Amble Cross, my arms spread out like wings. I was soaring through the sky, over the marshmallow clouds, high above the fields – light as a feather and free. I flew all the way back to the green, collapsing in a sweaty heap in front of the Jacksons’ shop.

“I don’t know where you get the energy, running in heat like this,” said Mr. Jackson. He was sitting out front in his string vest, the paper open on his lap.

I laughed, still trying to catch my breath. “I’ve just seen a
real
butterfly emerging from its chrysalis,” I said, as if that explained everything. Mr. Jackson smiled and went back to his crossword.

As I came up the lane to our cottage I saw Stella’s car parked outside. I wondered if she knew I’d spent yesterday afternoon with Mack and the thought gave me a funny feeling in my tummy all over again. I rushed up the path, pulling my key out of my bag. I was just about to let myself in when I heard Stella’s voice from inside. It was hard and angry.

“What do you mean you haven’t told her, Tracy? That’s the whole reason you came back to Oakbridge in the first place. You’ve
got
to tell her. However difficult it is, she’s got a right to know what happened!”

I fumbled with the key, straining to hear what they’d say next. They were talking about the photo. About the baby. They had to be. I’d never heard Mum and Stella argue before. Stella knew something and she obviously thought I should know too. My legs felt weird, as if they’d forgotten what to do, and I had to force myself to walk through the door and into the kitchen.

Mum was sitting at the table; Stella was by the stove facing her. It was almost funny in a way, like one of those freeze-frame scenes we used to do in drama:
Your daughter has just overheard you and your friend talking about a secret from the past. 1...2...3...FREEZE!

Mum looked as if she might stay frozen for ever, but Stella took a step towards me, her arms stretched out for a hug.

“Hello, Becky, my love. Have you had a nice day? Your mum and I were just having a little chat.” She glanced at Mum, but it was as if she’d turned to stone. “Come on, Tracy. Becky’s here and you’ve got something to tell her,
haven’t you
.”

I stared past Stella at Mum.

“I’ve left my job,” she said, her lips barely moving. “I wasn’t going to say anything but Stella said you had a right to know.”

There was something else too, there had to be. I glanced back at Stella, willing her to challenge Mum. To
force
her to tell me everything.

“I’ll be off then,” said Stella stiffly.

“No, don’t go yet,” I cried. “I’ll make a cup of tea, or some lemonade.
Please
, Stella.” But she grabbed her bag and keys and made for the door.

“I’ll see you soon, Becky, my sweet. You come over to my place any time you want. And I mean that.”

She gave Mum one last long look and swept out. It was hopeless. Mum would never tell me the truth without Stella there to make her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as soon as the front door closed. “It was the workload, you see, it just got too much for me. They were very nice about it, but I was totally out of my depth. I felt like I was drowning. I don’t want you to worry though, Becky. I’ll start looking for something new first thing tomorrow.”

“But you’ve hardly given it any time at all. What’s going to happen to us if you don’t have a job? Will we even stay in Oakbridge?”

Mum gave a shaky laugh. “Something will turn up, you’ll see.”

I walked across the kitchen and turned on the kettle. My hand trembled as I pushed in the button. I knew Mum had been struggling at work – that she was snowed under – but I was sure Stella had been talking about something else when she said that I had a right to know what happened. It was the perfect moment to confront Mum. I’d overheard them talking and she knew it.

Who’s the baby? Where’s my dad? Why are you lying
? Three simple questions, but it was my turn to freeze. It was something about the way she was sitting there, as if she might crumble into a million pieces.

“Why am I so scared of water?” I said. It was the wrong question but it seemed a safer place to start. “Did something happen to me? When I was little?”

Mum picked up a piece of blue puzzle, scanning the small section of sky she’d already done to see where it should go.

“Are you even listening? I want to know why I’m so scared of the water. Why haven’t I ever learned how to swim?”

“You never wanted to,” she muttered, without looking up.

My hands were itching to shake her. “Yes, but those lessons in Year Three – why didn’t I go? Everyone else in my class went. Even Davina Patel, and she was scared of everything. But I stayed back every week, remember?”

“You begged me to let you stay back.” She was still trying to fit that stupid piece of blue into the sky.

“
But why?
” I was shouting now. Mum was doing what she always did – closing up, shutting down. Impossible to reach.

“For goodness’ sake, Becky! There’s no need to raise your voice. I’m sick of you hassling me all the time. I can’t cope with it, I told you.” She pressed her fingers to the side of her head.

“Not a headache! Don’t tell me you’ve got a headache.
Why do you always do this?
You heard what Stella said.
I’ve got a right to know!
”

“But I’ve already told you. We were talking about my job.”

“
No you weren’t
.
You’re lying to me!
”

We stared at each other, shocked. It was the bluntest thing I’d ever said to her in my life.

“And I’m going swimming.” The words flew out of my mouth before I even knew they were there. “I’m going swimming with Mack and you can’t stop me.”

That got her attention. She dropped the piece of sky and scraped her chair back, standing up to face me.

“You’re not going swimming, Becky Miller. I forbid it.” She took a step towards me, folding her arms across her chest.

“And did you forbid it in Year Three as well? Is that why I never went for lessons?” I trawled my mind trying to remember. Was it me who didn’t want to go swimming? Or did Mum
stop
me from going? The memories were there, but they were fuzzy, out of reach.

Mum stood her ground. “Of course I didn’t forbid it. You begged me to get you out of those lessons. You were terrified.”

“But
why
?” I was so angry I wanted to smash something. “Why was I terrified?
Why?
” I blinked back tears. Couldn’t she see how much I needed to understand?

“I’m not shifting on this, Becky,” was all she said. “You’re not going swimming and you’re not to see Mack again. Is that clear?”

My shoulders sagged. I was never going to get through to her. It was like trying to get through a locked door without the key. It didn’t matter how hard or how many times I banged on it, it was never going to open. But a feeling was growing inside me like a hot ball of fire in my belly. I was sick of being frightened all the time. Of being like Mum. I wanted to learn how to swim. And I wanted Mack to teach me.

I left Mum standing in the kitchen. She could keep as many secrets as she liked – but she couldn’t physically stop me from seeing Mack. I tried to text him straight away but there was no signal. Instead I lay in bed, working out what I should say.
Can you give me some swimming lessons? I do want to go swimming but I’ll probably need some lessons first.
I didn’t want him to think I was asking him out, or that it was a date or anything.

Before we moved to Oakbridge, I’d really liked this boy called Jamie Palmer. Half the girls in school fancied him, including Laura. He never paid us the slightest bit of attention, but it didn’t seem to matter back then. He was in Year Nine and totally out of reach. It was enough to moon over him in private, doodling his name on our exercise books, lying in wait just to catch a glimpse as he came out of class or ate his lunch.