Billie hasn’t woken me tonight, yet I just can’t sleep.
I go through the notebook until I reach pages with no writing. Instead, there are flowers pressed in between, bluebells and dandelions, and oak leaves – beech and hazel too, a fern with its tendrils tiny and delicate. I even labelled some of them for Billie, looked up the Latin names in Grandpa’s pocket book of trees and wildflowers. I lean towards the page, close my eyes and inhale, as if I’ll be able to smell them, to breathe in the forest.
Perhaps I’ll show them to Polly next time. I know she’s interested in my notebook. I won’t let her read my stories but this would be okay. She likes dead plants after all.
Shaun hadn’t given me a proper explanation of why I should trust Jonas and I still wanted to know.
‘Don’t judge him by who his parents are,’ he said when I’d pushed him on it.
‘I’m not,’ I said. ‘I’m judging him on his actions.’
I could see Shaun trying to be patient. ‘Just trust me, will you? I’ve met all sorts of liars in my time, from psychopathic gangsters to two-timing boyfriends to estate agents. One was all three at the same time. I know a wrong ’un when I meet one, and Jonas isn’t one. Believe me when I tell you that you don’t need to worry.’
But as time went by I began to realize that there were other things Shaun wasn’t telling me. He’d take phone calls and go into other rooms to talk in a low voice so I couldn’t hear him. Once he had to go away overnight and was very evasive about where and why. Eventually he told me some story about a sick cousin that I didn’t believe for a second.
I knew Shaun just wanted to keep me safe, but what secrets did he have, I wondered, that were too dangerous for me to know?
It had been raining heavily for days so we hadn’t gone off into the forest all week. Billie never minded the rain and happily put on her red raincoat and splashed in puddles in the garden, made a tent from the clothes airer and an old plastic sheet she’d found in the shed, collected rainwater in jam jars and sprinkled petals in to make perfume that she was going to sell for a million pounds a bottle. I sat and watched her through the raindrops that trickled down the patio doors.
After a week indoors, I was edgy and irritable. I just needed to get away from everyone, from the house, from myself. I felt trapped, closed in. I needed the peace and secrecy of the forest. It was my only escape.
Billie decided to stay and play with Merlin, who was far too old and arthritic for walks in the woods these days, so I made my way towards the hut alone, going the long way and staying off the path. The smell of wet leaves and damp soil, the sound of the rain on the trees, made me feel alive. I sensed the tension begin to lift. I felt almost euphoric after the stale, constricting days in the house. It was just me and the trees.
Inside the hut, I sat down with my back against the wall. The forest quiet pressed in around me. I’d wanted to be on my own but, now that I was, there was nothing to distract me from the noise inside my head. It was just that pretending everything was okay when it so obviously wasn’t felt like such a struggle some days; I thought I’d crack with the effort of it. Pretending I wasn’t worrying about Dad and Claudia. Worrying about whether we’d be found out. Worrying about the danger I was putting Grandpa in. Trying not to miss Grandpa, the Grandpa who would have looked after me and made me laugh and made everything bearable. Trying not to think about home and everything that had happened… everything left behind… Mischa—
I was wondering when you’d finally get round to me, imaginary Mischa said. I mean, jeez, Clem, you could have put me a bit higher up the list, don’t you think?
‘It wasn’t in order of importance,’ I said.
Sure. She looked at me sceptically over the round sunglasses she’d bought at the hippy stall on the market because the guy who worked there said they made her look like a Victorian vampire, which was exactly Mischa’s look of choice.
‘You know I miss you loads,’ I said. ‘All the time.’
Yeah, yeah, I know. She sat down next to me.
‘It’s like I have to pretend all the time that everything’s fine. Or that it’s going to be fine. Because if I don’t, what’s the point of anything? I mean, how do I even keep going, Misch? But nothing’s fine. Nothing can ever be fine again.’
She leaned her head on my shoulder.
Sorry, babe.
I closed my eyes again and wished she was real.
Then I sat up, tense, listening.
There was a sound coming from outside. Rustling. Breathing?
I sat completely still.
The rustling had stopped. Just a squirrel probably. I stood up, relieved, moving to the door to see if the rain had stopped.
A dog barked, loud and abrupt, right outside the hut, so sudden that I jumped. I stopped completely still, hardly breathing, one foot half off the ground, willing the dog to run back to its owner. But it knew I was there and carried on barking, sniffing, scratching at the door.
And then there were footsteps and a male voice, further away than the dog but getting closer.
‘What is it?’ the voice said. ‘Skadi? What have you found?’
And then the door opened and on the other side of it was Jonas.
I was so angry I forgot to be afraid. I knew he couldn’t be trusted. He was spying on me. How dare he follow me here! This was my secret place, mine and Billie’s and Mum’s. He had no right to be here.
‘Is this what you do for fun then?’ I spat at him. ‘Spying on people just because they dare to break your stupid rules? Off you go then and report me to Mummy.’
He stepped back, hands up, the surprised smile that had appeared on his face when he saw I was the person behind the door quickly disappearing.
‘No!’ he said. ‘Of course not. I’m not spying on you. I didn’t know you were here. I’m disobeying the rules as much as you are just by being here.’
‘Right. And you just happen to be here at my hut.’
‘I didn’t know it was you who’d been coming here. I knew someone had. I saw the cushions and candles and stuff. I like the paper birds. Did you make them?’
‘You’ve been here before?’ I felt outraged.
‘I escape here,’ he said. ‘When I can’t stand it at home any more.’
But it’s mine! I wanted to say. Mine and Billie’s and Mum’s. But even in my anger I could hear how childish it would sound, so I said nothing. There was an awkward silence. I found myself wondering why he couldn’t stand it at home.
‘You don’t trust me, do you?’ he said at last.
‘Trust you? After you threatened me on the green that time? When I know who your mum is?’
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I wanted to apologize properly that night I brought Huw round but…’ He trailed off, presumably not wanting to say, But you slammed the door in my face. ‘Has… has Shaun said anything to you about me?’
‘Oh, totally. We do nothing but sit around talking about you.’
He flushed. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
The rain was falling even heavier now, pattering on the leaves all around us. Jonas wasn’t wearing a coat.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘can I come in? Just till the rain passes? I’ll explain it all to you properly and you can make your own mind up. If you want. Or, if you’d rather, I can just sit in silence and you can pretend I’m not there and talk to Skadi instead till it stops raining.’
At the sound of her name the dog came trotting over and gazed up at him hopefully. I looked at Jonas, dishevelled and dripping, and remembered his concern for Grandpa that night he’d found him and brought him back, how he’d not been embarrassed by Grandpa, or treated him like a crazy old guy for thinking his dead wife was alive, like some people would have done.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘But only because I like your dog.’
Skadi ran around the hut sniffing things and generally being adorable, which was just as well because without her it would have been a billion times more awkward than it already was. I passed Jonas one of the cushions and we both sat down. He rubbed at his wet hair with the sleeve of his sweater so that it stood up in spikes.
Cute, imaginary Mischa said.
Not the time, Misch. And anyway, no.
Okay. You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, Clemmie.
‘I’ve got chocolate,’ Jonas said, taking a bar out of his backpack.
He has chocolate, Mischa said. I mean, come ON.
‘Here.’ Jonas broke off half the bar and held it out to me.
I wanted to refuse haughtily, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten chocolate. Being related to the Queen Bee of the village clearly had its advantages. But maybe… maybe there were disadvantages too. After all, didn’t I know as well as anyone that you didn’t get to choose your mum?
‘Thanks,’ I said, trying to resist the urge to shove it all into my mouth in one go. Instead I set about breaking it into neat pieces. Skadi sat next to me and watched intently as I ate them one at a time, following each square of chocolate with her eyes until I’d eaten them all. Eventually she lay her head down on my lap and let me stroke her ears. The rain thrummed on the roof of the hut.
‘So, go on then,’ I said. ‘Explain.’
He was silent.
‘Or don’t,’ I said. ‘It’s up to you.’
‘It’s not that,’ he said. ‘I just don’t know where to start.’
‘That day on the green maybe? Where you and your family told me if I didn’t get out of the village I’d be in trouble?’
‘Okay. My mum is… well, you’ve met her. Has Shaun told you about her? About who she is, I mean?’
‘A bit,’ I said. ‘Not much. Just that she’s on the council or something.’
Jonas nodded. ‘She’s always been on the council, since I was a little kid. Back then, it was all just boring meetings and putting leaflets through doors. But when the whole Toby Knight movement started, she got obsessive about it. It was around the time she and my dad split up, I don’t know if that was part of it or what. They went for away-days and conventions and they had all these online forums. I don’t know. It was like a cult. She was selected as the candidate to be MP in the last election. Her campaign got really nasty, smearing her opponents, that kind of thing. One of them even got arrested, but it never came to anything. He lost his job though because of the rumours. He’d been a teacher and no one wanted their kids in his class. I know the whole thing was her doing. She’s made sure she’s got all the right friends. She’s always been good at that. The local police chief, local businesses, council bigwigs, all that. But when the election didn’t happen, even though she’s not the actual MP, she’s kind of appointed herself as the person in charge. And everyone just assumes I agree with her.’
I thought about how it would feel to have a parent like that.
I thought of Jonas that day on the green. ‘Well why wouldn’t they think that, if you just go along with it?’
‘I did just go along with it, for a while.’ He looks embarrassed. ‘I shouldn’t have. But I was always sort of trying to win her approval I guess. When I was a kid she’d always make me feel like I was a bit… like I wasn’t good enough. Not the son she thought she’d have. You know? She wanted someone good at rugby and rowing, and good at being friends with all the right people like her, which I’m… I’m really not. I just liked dogs and being in the woods and collecting caterpillars and whatever. Which she thinks is weird. I mean, I guess it is kind of weird.’
I wanted to say it was only a bit weird, and in a good way, but I didn’t.
‘Anyway, when it got more extreme, and I was a bit older and didn’t care so much whether she approved of me or not, I’d argue with her. I mean, I had to. She was attacking second-home owners to build her popularity, attacking people who’d moved here from outside. She said people from the cities, especially those with ‘different cultures’, were changing the character of the village, they didn’t have our values, they were a threat to our way of life, our kids. Except the ones who funded her campaign of course.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘Okay. I can see why she thinks Toby Knight’s so great.’
‘And she’s a control freak. Anyone who disagrees with her is made to feel ostracized by the rest of the village and there are usually some rumours started about them. When the shortages began, she used that as a way to get even more control. She started doing favours for her supporters – extra food, more medicine, that kind of thing. I couldn’t pretend any more that she was doing it all for good reasons.’
‘So how come you seemed to be all happy families when I met you on the green that day? How come you’re a Community Guard if you’re so different from your mum?’
He shrugged. ‘In the end I decided that if she and everyone else thought I agreed with her, why not use that? I told her I’d been wrong, she’d been right. It was just immaturity, teenage rebellion. I blamed it on my dad leaving too – she’s always more than happy to blame him for anything. That’s when I started passing on information to Shaun.’
‘What do you mean?’
Jonas looked at me, surprised. I looked away. His eyes were very blue.
‘He hasn’t told you anything at all?’
‘About you? No. Just that I should trust you.’
‘I suppose he thought it was safer for me if you didn’t know. Maybe safer for you too.’ He looked doubtful suddenly, as if maybe he shouldn’t say any more.
‘I don’t need keeping safe,’ I said. ‘Shaun worries too much. And who am I going to tell? I think you can be pretty sure your secret’s safe with me.’
‘Okay,’ Jonas said, and then hesitated as though he still wasn’t sure he should be telling me. ‘Shaun helps people. Secretly, I mean.’
‘Helps who? How?’
‘Whoever needs help. He gets them out of the villages and towns round here, even out of the country if they need to. Helps them get papers and stuff they need if they haven’t got them. Organizes locally to try and stop my mum and her lot.’
I nodded slowly, feeling stupid for not having worked out some of what he was saying already for myself. It all made sense.
‘I just pass on anything useful I happen to hear from my mum,’ Jonas said. ‘Plans. Decisions they make at meetings. I listen out and pass it on.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘You’re secretly betraying your own mum?’
He looked half-embarrassed, half-defiant. ‘Maybe I should just stand up to her, confront her with what she’s doing. But this way at least I’m doing something useful. If I just argue with her all the time about it what good does it do? She wouldn’t take any notice and I wouldn’t be able to help.’
I thought about this. If he could fool his own mum, he could equally be fooling me and Shaun. He could be passing information on Shaun back to Imogen. All this could just be an act.
Oh, please. You know he’s one of the good guys really, Mischa said. You just don’t want to admit you were wrong.
We thought Danny was a good guy, Misch.
Mischa went uncharacteristically quiet.
It could be an act.
But I found I didn’t want it to be.
‘Okay,’ I said.
‘Okay?’ he said. ‘You mean I passed the test? We’re friends?’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ I said. ‘Me and Skadi are friends. Me and you are… not enemies.’
He smiled. ‘I’ll take that.’
I half-smiled back. ‘I mean, you have no choice.’
‘Are we not-enemies enough for me to come back here?’
I thought about it and realized as I did how quiet it was suddenly.
‘Listen.’
He looked up sharply. ‘What is it?’
‘The rain’s stopped,’ I said. ‘That means you can go.’
I watched them leave, Skadi trotting ahead. Jonas turned and waved.
‘Skadi’s welcome back any time,’ I called after him. ‘And if she brings you, I suppose that’s fine too.’
He smiled and disappeared into the trees.
Afterwards, I sat in the hut, which seemed too quiet now. It smelt of wet dog and some other smell that was Jonas, not aftershave, just a trace of him in the air that almost made me wish the rain hadn’t stopped quite so soon.
Pheromones, Mischa said.
‘No one asked, Misch.’
You know – like animal sex chemicals that tell you whether you’re sexually compatible with someone. Whether you’re aroused by them.
‘Please stop talking now,’ I said.
She smiled her knowing smile. Just saying, babe.
I piled up the cushions in the corner and picked up the jam jar of dried bluebells. I’d warned Billie they’d fade as soon as they were picked but we couldn’t resist. I explained that Grandpa told me once that the fact that they didn’t last long made them even more beautiful. He used a Japanese word for it, but I couldn’t remember what it was. The bluebells had gone from the woods now too, the hazy carpet of blue like fallen sky. I’d pressed some into the pages of my notebook for Billie, trying to trap them, make them permanent.
‘Wabi-sabi,’ Polly says.
‘What?’
‘The Japanese word. The acceptance and appreciation of transience and imperfection.’
‘Oh, right,’ I say. ‘Yes. I’d forgotten.’
I tell Billie later how I was telling Polly about the bluebells and she’d known the word I couldn’t remember.
‘But I like the pressed bluebells,’ Billie says. ‘I want to keep them for ever.’
‘Me too,’ I say.
‘But even more I wish they could stay alive for ever. Even after you’ve picked them.’
‘Me too.’
I close my eyes and see us running through the blue cloud of them, arms outstretched, Billie calling out, ‘This is what it’s like to fly, Clem.’
The girl knew she must find the blood-red flower to save her sister but she did not know the witch had enchanted the forest so that no one could escape it without magical help. As she lay under the tree a robin flew down to her with something in his beak. She saw it was a tiny gold key, which he dropped it at her feet.
‘A key?’ the girl said. ‘But what does it open?’
The robin looked at her intently, as though he wanted to tell her but couldn’t.
‘Thank you,’ the girl said. She stood up, wondering which way to go. The robin flew to an oak tree a little further ahead and looked back. The girl realized he was waiting for her and so she followed. Flitting from tree to tree the robin flew ahead of her through the forest until the girl began to wonder whether he wasn’t leading her anywhere at all and she was more lost than ever.
But just as this doubt began to form, the thicket of trees grew thinner and the girl found she was in the grounds of a great and strange palace, with towers and turrets that seemed to reach up into the clouds.
The robin looked at her again and chirped. This time he was telling her something, she was sure of it. Then he flew off into the trees.
‘Don’t go!’ the girl called after the robin, but he was gone.
She walked up to the great wooden door and looked in vain for a keyhole small enough for the little golden key, but there was only a great iron door knocker, so the girl knocked on the door three times.