The Girl by the River (28 page)

LONDON

‘Have I got to drag you away from that river?’ Faye said, tugging the sleeve of Tessa’s black duffle coat.

‘Sorry.’ Tessa feasted her eyes one last time on the night river. Its silver and black swirling tide, its rippling reflections of coloured light fascinated her. She tried to take
some snaps of it with her Brownie Box Camera, for her project on water. Reluctantly she tore herself away and followed Faye’s thin legs into the Royal Festival Hall. Seeing the River Thames
had been the best surprise so far, even breathing the cooler, fresher air that seemed to hang over the water. She felt shell-shocked from their ride to London in the cab of a lorry with a loud,
impatient driver. He’d talked non-stop, smoked non-stop and kept turning his head to look lecherously at the two girls he’d picked up. He’d dropped them at Baker Street tube
station, and Faye had bundled Tessa down an escalator (her first) and onto a tube train. It had felt like a hectic journey into the screaming tunnels of hell.

Walking into the humming auditorium of the Royal Festival Hall was a different experience, a magical, expectant space, full of quiet, serious people. Faye quickly made herself at home in her
seat, taking off her duffle coat and college scarf and making a nest with them. She gave Tessa one of her rare smiles. ‘We made it!’ she whispered, and offered her a Murray Mint.
‘Unwrap it now. No one dares rustle paper when the performance starts.’

Tessa was awed when the members of the orchestra came in so solemnly, clutching their gleaming instruments, more than she had ever seen in her life. She tried to pretend she was used to it, like
Faye, so she watched calmly, but inside she was fizzing with excitement. She wasn’t sure she could sit still for long, with questions bobbing through her mind, and so many serious people to
study. She wasn’t sure whether she would like this kind of music or not. ‘Even if you don’t like it, you’ve got to sit there in total silence,’ Faye had warned.
‘If you cry, sneeze, cough or unwrap a sweet, you can get chucked out by some usher in a penguin suit.’

What have I let myself in for
? Tessa thought, as the conductor lifted his baton to begin. But, from the first haunting note, she was captivated. The music swept through her and around her
like the tide in the river, bearing her away like a water baby to distant, enchanted lands. She felt totally absorbed by it, as if there was nothing else, no world beyond the music, no more fear,
no more anxiety, no more anger. She was the music, and the music was her.

When the eight-note theme came in, a smile passed between the girls.
The light in the forest
, Tessa thought, and each time it came, it was more intense than the last, until she could
hardly bear it, and yet wanted it. Finally it led into the ‘big emotional tune’ Faye had described; it was greater than the river, the brimming river she had tried so long ago to find.
It swallowed her, body and soul, and she went with it. She emerged, from the dark forest, into a sunlit ocean. She rode the waves, on and on, into the light. She never wanted it to stop.

The applause at the end was a different kind of surge. An overpowering feeling of oneness such as she’d never experienced in her life.
I belong
, she thought.
I belong in this
music, with people like this
.

In the interval, Faye asked her how she felt.

‘There aren’t any words,’ Tessa said. ‘I’ve – never experienced this kind of music before – but I’m LOVING it. I feel like an explorer discovering
a new land.’

‘Great!’ Faye said. ‘I know what you mean. I can’t believe you’ve never heard classical before. I grew up with it.’

‘Lucky you, but have you ever heard a real nightingale singing?’

‘No. I’m a total townie.’

‘I have,’ Tessa said. ‘At home we had nightingale picnics under the stars.’

A wave of homesickness gushed over her. Jonti, and Selwyn, and Lexi. She let it pass. Two weeks and she could go home for Christmas, back to being Tessa the troublemaker.
Maybe I’ll
just stay in London
, she thought in excitement.
I’m old enough to work
.

In the second part of the concert, when she heard the nightingale’s song in Respighi’s
The Pines of Rome
, it sounded lost and distant. Impressive, but nothing like the golden
sheet of birdsong she’d heard on the night picnic with Lexi. The deep feeling of belonging came again with the applause at the end, resonating in her like a gong.
I’m not homesick
for home
, she thought,
I’m homesick for who I am
.

They walked out into the humming night of London. It was snowing, and the snowflakes were pale orange in the street lights.

‘How are we going to get back,’ Tessa asked, ‘on a night like this?’

Jonti usually barked when he wanted to come in, but tonight he did something that spooked Kate. He sat by the gate in the snow, lifted his nose to the sky, and howled like a
wolf.

Kate took her red umbrella from the cupboard and picked her way down the slippery path, to fetch the little dog in. ‘What’s the matter, Jonti?’ She looked up and down the road.
It was a whiteout, and the snow was drifting in a biting wind. Freddie’s lorry had a white roof, and so had the car. Kate frowned. Where was Freddie? She tried to catch Jonti but he
wasn’t having it. He ran further down the snowy road and sat there howling. There didn’t seem to be a living soul on the road, and the thick snow blotted out the town. Kate suddenly
felt isolated. It was getting dark. She listened for the sound of Lucy’s train arriving from Taunton, but it didn’t come. The town was silent.

Kate searched Freddie’s workshop, but he wasn’t there. She went to Annie’s door and pushed it open, to find Annie asleep in her chair by the fire, her knitting trailing over
her lap and the old kettle boiling itself dry on the stove top.

‘Annie,’ Kate shook her arm gently. ‘Can you wake up please?’

‘Wake up? I wasn’t asleep,’ Annie said grumpily. ‘Just closed my eyes for a minute.’

‘It’s snowing,’ Kate said.

‘Oh dear – I hate snow,’ Annie said. ‘I know it’s pretty but I can’t go out on those slippery paths.’

‘Do you know where Freddie is?’

‘Freddie? Isn’t he back?’ Annie stared at her. ‘’Tis nearly dark!’ She got up and went to the window. ‘He took Jonti for a walk – that was
lunchtime. Said he didn’t want no lunch.’

‘Jonti’s out in the road, howling – listen to him!’ Kate said.

‘That’s bad,’ Annie predicted. ‘Dogs don’t howl for nothing. Something’s happened to my Freddie, and that dog knows.’

‘Oh, I expect he’s just yarning to Herbie,’ Kate said, trying to look on the bright side.

‘No. I feel it in me bones. Something’s happened,’ Annie insisted. ‘Freddie’s not well. He’s had that terrible cough for weeks now. And . . .’ she
looked accusingly at Kate, ‘he was upset about something – I could tell. Someone’s got to go and look for him.’

‘What was he upset about?’ Kate asked.

Annie hesitated. ‘About – you.’

‘About me?’

‘That Ian Tillerman came up here, wanting Freddie to haul a load of hay bales, and Freddie wouldn’t do it. So that didn’t go down very well. But Tillerman kept on arguing and
calling Freddie “my man”, like he does. Then he said something about you – something about you riding horses with Susan. And Freddie just walked away.’

‘Oh dear!’ Kate immediately felt guilty. She’d intended to tell Freddie, but hadn’t done so. The moment never seemed to be right. And she didn’t want to give up her
riding. She brushed it aside. ‘We can talk it over later.’

‘Someone’s got to go and look for him,’ said Annie again. ‘He could die out there in the snow if he gets one of those asthma attacks.’

‘I’ll go,’ Kate said. ‘You make a flask with that boiling kettle – hot strong tea with sugar.’

Kate pulled on a thick sweater, and tied a square woollen scarf tightly over her head. She put on her wellies, and a yellow plastic mac she had bought in Weymouth. It was too long and flapped
around her ankles.

Annie’s eyes were worried as she handed over a small Thermos flask with the cup screwed firmly on top. ‘Don’t go slipping over, Kate,’ she said. ‘And take the
rubber torch.’

‘I’ll be fine, don’t you worry,’ Kate said cheerfully. ‘I’m a farmer’s daughter.’

Snow pelted her face and the east wind moaned through the bare elm trees. Jonti was shivering when she reached him and clipped him onto his lead. ‘Find Freddie,’ she said, and the
little dog stopped howling and barked. He led her along the slippery white road, pulling at his lead.

‘We could doss down with that lot,’ Faye said, as the two girls walked under Waterloo Bridge.

‘Who are they?’ Tessa asked innocently, glancing at the bundled shapes of homeless people, surrounded by sheets of cardboard and piles of coats.

‘Homeless people. They sleep here all the time,’ Faye said.

Tessa was shocked. She stared at the soles of a man’s boots as he slept across the pavement, and wondered how he had ended up homeless. She wanted to stop, and ask him why, but Faye
dragged her away. ‘Come on. Don’t get involved.’

‘But where are we going?’ Tessa asked.

‘We can go to my mum’s place,’ Faye said, joylessly. ‘She’s a bit weird, but she won’t mind. Then we can hitch back in the morning. I haven’t got enough
money left for the tube, have you?’

‘I’ve got a ten-bob note,’ said Tessa.

‘That’ll do.’

Faye led her into the underground and down another escalator. Tessa followed, her head still full of the music. She felt excited to be staying in London. She wanted to be there in daylight. Faye
didn’t seem interested in London, but to Tessa it was an undiscovered, glittering new place, full of history and romance, and interesting people. ‘We could go to the Tate Gallery in the
morning.’

‘No. It’ll take too long,’ Faye said. ‘I haven’t done my project homework yet. Have you?’

‘No,’ Tessa sighed. ‘I feel like chucking it in actually.’

‘Yeah – join the club.’

‘Don’t you get on with your mum?’ Tessa asked.

Faye shrugged. ‘Be warned, Tessa, my mum is on another planet! I can’t have a conversation with her. Never could. I’ve spent most of my life with Dad. They’re divorced
now.’

‘Divorced. Aw, that’s a shame.’

‘It’s no big deal. Dad’s met someone else, but she hasn’t. She likes being on her own – she doesn’t even want me around. I’m an embarrassment,’
Faye said bitterly. ‘Come on – I’m not wasting time talking about her.’

Tessa sensed the pain in Faye’s mind. She’d never met anyone with divorced parents. No one had ever spoken the word ‘divorce’ in her family. Meeting Faye’s mum
wasn’t going to be easy.

Faye’s mum lived in a penthouse flat in Belgravia. Plodding through the streets with Faye, Tessa began to feel strange and unsettled. Something tugged at her consciousness. A voice. Phone
home, it insisted. They passed countless phone boxes, but Faye wouldn’t stop, and she had very little money left. The snow was closing in around London, and both girls were soaking wet, their
sodden duffle coats heavy, their jeans and shoes cold and dripping. Tessa suddenly thought of Jonti.
He’s an old dog now
, she thought,
and he shouldn’t be out in the snow
.
She felt that Jonti was shivering. She heard him howling in her mind. Was he lost? Something’s wrong, said her footsteps, something’s wrong.

Dazed, she found herself arriving at Faye’s mum’s place. The door opened, and a woman who looked like a goddess beckoned them inside. Tessa couldn’t believe she was
Faye’s mother. Her name was Starlinda. She had extraordinary eyes, wide open, wide apart and curving upwards at the outer corners, and a wide pearl pink smile. Everything about her was
pearly, her lips, her nails, her shimmering hair, her white kaftan with silk embroidery, her slippers of exotic oriental satin.

‘This is Tessa,’ Faye said. ‘We’re stuck in London – been to a concert – can we stay the night?’

Starlinda fixed her extraordinary eyes on Tessa. ‘Welcome,’ she said in an oceanic whisper, ‘we’ve been waiting for YOU.’

‘Mum!’ Faye rolled her eyes. ‘Can we come in? We’re soaking wet and starving.’

Starlinda looked them over, her nose wrinkling. ‘You look like two steamed puddings,’ she said, and laughed heartily. Two dimples appeared on her cheeks. ‘Take everything off
– well, almost everything – then you can come in!’ She fetched a gigantic white plastic laundry basket. ‘Dump it all in here.’ Then she fetched two white towelling
bath robes. ‘Put these on.’

Tessa didn’t want to take her clothes off, but the towelling robe looked enticingly cosy, so she followed Faye’s example and stripped down to her bra and panties.

‘What pretty hair, Tessa.’ Starlinda touched the coloured braid in Tessa’s chestnut hair. ‘There, you look so much better in white,’ she said, and the eyes looked
into hers very deeply again. ‘And you really shouldn’t wear black, dear. You’re a starchild.’

‘Mum!’ growled Faye. ‘Can’t you try to be a normal parent for one hour? We just need a bowl of soup and a bed.’

‘You know where the kitchen is,’ said Starlinda, and her face changed when she looked at Faye. ‘Help yourself. It’s all vegetarian.’

Tessa looked alarmed. She imagined plates of putrid cabbage.

‘I’ll fix us something – student-style – beans on toast,’ Faye said. ‘Don’t look so worried, Tessa.’

‘Come and sit by the fire, Tessa, you’re shivering.’ Starlinda led her to a purple velvet chair next to the electric bar, flame-effect fire. She sat down opposite, and looked
at her with unwavering interest. Normally Tessa didn’t like people staring at her, but this was different. She gazed back, finding a strange restorative power in the minutes of silent eye
contact. She felt she knew Starlinda from some distant time. What happened next was the ultimate surprise.

‘It’s not the dog who is shivering and lost,’ Starlinda said. ‘A little white dog. Am I right?’

‘Jonti!’ Tessa whispered. ‘How – how did you know? He’s my dog, and I was worrying about him.’

‘He’s quite all right, dear – but I think you need to phone home, don’t you? There’s a phone right there beside you. Please do use it.’