‘Coming?’ she asks.
I shake my head and take a step back. A look of sympathy flashes across her eyes before she turns and makes her way down the staircase. She knows why I won’t put myself in a small, dark space. What she doesn’t know is that I still wake up in the night sometimes, sheets soaked with my terror. The feeling of a bird flapping in my chest. Even now, the honeyed sunshine streaming through the glass in the front door can’t keep my black thoughts at bay, and I fall back into a memory I don’t think I’ll ever escape.
I was trapped. Alone. Scared. I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself from crying. There was no one to hear me. I couldn’t allow myself to believe he would hurt me but panic welled again. I screwed my eyes tightly closed but when I opened them there was the same suffocating blackness and I worried I would run out of air in this tiny, confined space. I told myself not to scream, to preserve oxygen, but anxiety built and built until it burst, and I was banging against the door with my fists, begging to be set free, until, exhausted, I sank to my knees. There was nothing to be heard but the sound of my own cries ringing in my ears. I wondered how long I would spend here. It already felt like an eternity, but I thought about what might come after, when he came back, and I couldn’t help myself. I began to cry and I didn’t think I would ever stop.
The clatter of Lisa’s footsteps brings me back to now, where there is no locked door, no darkness, but the fear, it still lingers. I don’t think I’ll ever properly shake it.
13
Then
I replayed the events of Perry’s party the night before on a loop until the memory became more colourful and vibrant than the present moment. The feel of Jake’s hands entwined in my hair, the brush of his lips on mine, sweet apple cider on his tongue.
‘Kat!’ The irritation in Mum’s voice snapped me back into kitchen where she was rolling stuffing into balls, roast pork spitting and crackling in the oven.
‘Sorry. What did you?…’
‘Set the table.’
I cleared away my revision books and laid out the cutlery. Not the weekday slightly tarnished knives and forks but the shiny silver wedding present set housed in a wooden case. Dad was so traditional. I couldn’t remember a time we didn’t have a roast lunch on a Sunday, even during the summer months when our terraced house became a furnace, the sun glaring furiously through the back windows.
The conversation at dinner was strained.
‘What are your plans for this afternoon?’ Mum asked Dad in a tone that indicated she knew exactly what he should be doing. It was the same every week. Dad would say he was reading the papers and Mum would remind him the fence remained half-painted, the loose stair carpet needed nailing down, the shelf in the lounge was still wonky.
‘I’ll get round to everything just as soon as I can,’ Dad said, although we all knew he wouldn’t. Sometimes I wondered whether he ignored Mum’s lists as a matter of pride. A sense of needing to be the one who decided if and when things got done. Being in control, I suppose, in a way he hadn’t been over his career. The way he tried to be over mine.
‘Daphne’s son—’
‘Is a handyman. Yes, I know. Any more gravy?’ Dad looked pointedly at the empty jug. For a split second, something flared behind Mum’s eyes and I thought she might tell him to make it himself; I urged her on inside my head, but she scraped back her chair and flicked on the kettle. The sound of water boiling seemed deafening in the resentment-heavy silence. I tried to imagine my parents young and in love. It was impossible. They didn’t even seem to like each other. Twenty years was a long time to be married but, still, I couldn’t picture them ever feeling the way me and Jake had felt last night. I slipped back into my memories, wanting to be anywhere but here.
Later, wishing again I had a mobile phone, I sat by the landline like a lovesick teenager, and I suppose that’s what I was. Jake didn’t ring, although he never said he would. Lisa didn’t either. It was unusual for us to go a day without talking, but each time I picked up the receiver, I’d remember her face as I kissed Jake, the shock and disbelief, and I couldn’t bring myself to call. I told myself we spent so much time together it was always going to be awkward when one of us got a boyfriend, and her reaction wasn’t specifically because it was Jake, but I wasn’t sure and I hated to think I’d hurt her in any way. Still, I knew as I got ready for bed that tomorrow, at school, I’d be seeing them both.
I waited for Lisa on the corner of the main road, as usual, leaning against the postbox. It had gone quarter to nine by the time I realised she wasn’t coming. The stop-start of the rush-hour traffic spitting fumes into my lungs, the incessant thrum of engines, sparked a throbbing behind my eyes, a queasiness in my belly. The bell had already rung by the time I fell through the classroom door, breathless and hot, inhaling the smell of sweaty feet and whiteboard markers. English was the only subject we had in common but, rather than sitting at the desk we always shared by the window, Lisa was sitting at the back, next to Jake, their heads close together. My jealousy was immediate and sharp, a stinging slap of envy. Jake raised his hand as he noticed me but Lisa’s smile was tight, and it took every ounce of willpower to keep my eyes fixed on the board and not keep turning to look at them as the double lesson stretched on and on.
Finally, it was break, and I was swept out of the door where I hovered in the corridor, again the sick feeling in my stomach. Had Jake changed his mind about us?
He came out first and looped his arm over my shoulders and, just like that, we were a couple.
‘Can you give me and Lisa a second?’ I asked.
She was walking as slowly as she could towards the door, eyes fixed on the floor.
‘Sure.’ Jake briefly pressed his lips against mine. ‘See you at lunch.’
‘Lisa.’ I caught her arm as she tried to walk past me.
‘Kat, I didn’t—’
‘Don’t pretend you didn’t see me. What’s going on? I waited for you for ages this morning.’
‘Sorry. I—’
The bell rang shrill and loud.
‘Everything’s fine, Kat.’ Lisa shook her arm free. ‘I’ll see you later.’
I watched her grow smaller and smaller as she hurried down the corridor. The distance between us felt vast.
At lunchtime, I meandered towards Jake and Lisa across the overgrown grass that was yellowing with thirst and popping with buttercups and daisies. In the warmer weather, the sixth formers were allowed to eat their lunch on the sports field. I could feel the glare coming from the lower years, confined to the concrete playground, jostling for benches, knowing the hot tarmac would burn bare legs if they sat on the floor. I remembered feeling the same envy when I was younger.
‘Hey.’ I flopped next to Jake. Lisa averted her eyes as he kissed me hello. The gold cross glinted around his neck, and I wondered if the metal was hot against his skin.
‘So you two are a thing?’ Aaron chucked his bag on the grass next to us.
‘They are,’ Lisa said, her voice flat.
I unpacked my lunch. My sandwich was warm and unappealing, the bread soggy with sliced tomatoes, lettuce browning. Although I didn’t have much of an appetite, anxiety over Lisa rolling around my stomach, I pulled open a packet of Walkers Smokey Bacon instead.
‘Want one?’ I offered the pack to Lisa. A peace offering, of sorts. She shook her head. She didn’t have any food in front of her. Instead of eating she was plucking flowers from the grass and dropping them into her lap.
‘Where’s your lunch?’ I asked.
‘I’m on a diet,’ she snapped.
‘But still, you have to eat.’