Ghostbird Page 2

  On the opposite wall, an oak dresser filled the space, laden with books and Lili’s inheritance: her mother’s china. Painted plates and dainty mismatched cups and jugs filled with feathers and dried flowers. Framing the square window hung a pair of dark blue curtains, hand-stitched with enchantments to keep out draughts and snoopers alike. People swore, however hard you looked, you would never see into Lilwen Hopkins’ cottage.

  The rain whispered against the window. A shiver ran down Cadi’s back, and for a second she saw her ghost-face in the glass. This time it was made of meadowsweet and lavender, and a solitary tea towel left hanging on the washing line. ‘Why does it rain every day in August?’

  ‘You know why.’

  ‘Not really. You said it was magic, but that’s rubbish.’

  Lili threw her niece a look. ‘Is that a fact?’

  ‘Don’t give me that witch woman stuff, Lili. If you were a real witch, you’d make things happen.’

  Lili ignored her. ‘It’s an old village legend. It rains every day in August because the naysayers tried to kill the rainmaker.’

  ‘What’s a naysayer?’

  ‘Someone who tells you what you believe in isn’t true.’

  Cadi, in the dark, her dreams edged with shadow, had her own ideas about the truth. As for what she believed in, chance would be a fine thing. If everyone refused to tell her about her father, how was she expected to believe in anything?

  There was all that trouble with the baby and the husband…

  Cadi traced her finger against the glass, noticing the way each drop, like a fingerprint, was different, how they stretched, taking the path of least resistance.

  Turning to Lili, she said, ‘What happened to the rainmaker?’

  ‘She decided to fight back and spoil summer.’

  Cadi managed a small smile.

  ‘It’s true.’ Lili spooned tea-leaves into the pot.

  ‘What is?’ The door sprang open and Cadi’s mother backed into the room, shaking her umbrella, the rain on her fair hair glittering like diamonds. ‘What’s true?’ Violet frowned, shrugged off her raincoat and draped it over a chair. ‘What are you two up to?’

  Why does she always think we’re up to something? Cadi watched as Lili poured boiling water into the teapot. ‘Lili was telling me about the rainmaker.’ Violet’s frown deepened and Cadi could tell her mother didn’t believe her.

  Do you think she knows he’s back? The mother… It’s no wonder he left in a hurry…

  The rain was coming down harder, sounding like stones on the window. The voices in her head nagged.

  Your mother wouldn’t want you talking to strangers…

  ‘Hang on,’ Cadi said. ‘No she wasn’t. She was telling me about my dad.’

  The crash made them all jump. Lili swore. The lid of her teapot lay on the floor in two pieces. She picked them up and flung them onto the draining board.

  Cadi got to her feet, her response automatic. ‘It’ll mend, Lili, it will.’

  She reached for the pieces and Lili slapped her hand away. ‘Leave it.’

  Lili never hit her. Lili never hurt anyone.

  Lili glared and Cadi felt her face reddening. ‘What did I do?’

  The tiny room was all at once too small for the three of them. Cadi thought of Alice in the rabbit hole, eating magic cake. Her mother pulled a pack of cigarettes from her skirt pocket, and for once Lili didn’t stop her.As the lighter flared, Cadi saw how pale Violet’s face was.

  ‘And just what has Lili been saying, about your father?’ Violet inhaled hard and her breath sounded like a rush of wind.

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’ Lili turned, her back against the sink, her hands rigid on the edge of the wooden draining board.

  Cadi folded her arms, her hand still stinging from Lili’s slap, refusing now to feel guilty. She avoided Lili’s puzzled gaze.

  ‘Tell her, Cadi.’ After a few seconds, Lili threw her hands in the air in exasperation. ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Violet, she’s making it up. No one said anything.’

  ‘Well,’ Cadi said, ‘finally, someone’s telling the truth.’

  It was Violet’s turn to stare. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means, mother dear, no one ever tells anyone the truth around here.’

  ‘Cadi, I’ve had a long day at work. I missed the bus and had to put up with bloody Alyn Jenkins going on about his wretched sheep and you know I get sick in cars.’ Violet was so nervous in cars, it wasn’t only the motion made her nauseous. ‘And then I had to walk from the crossroads. I need to go home and get dry.’ She stood up. ‘Don’t bother with the tea, Lili. We’re going.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘Cadi, don’t.’

  ‘Don’t what, Lili?’ Cadi let out a cracked laugh. ‘Don’t talk about my dead father or my weird mother? Or you?’ She whirled on the spot, pointing a finger in Lili’s face. ‘Don’t mention Lili the witch, who pretends everything’s fine when any idiot can see that’s a big fat lie. No one’s allowed to know this family’s dirty secrets, especially not me, even though half the village obviously does because they talk about me behind my back all the time like I’m invisible.’

  ‘Cadi, stop it.’ Lili raised both her hands in a defensive gesture. ‘Please, stop this now, before…’

  ‘Before I say something I regret? Well, how about this?’ Cadi yelled. ‘Don’t go to the lake. Don’t mention water at all come to think of it – it’s a wonder we’re even allowed to drink the stuff!’ She was crying now, shaking with misery. ‘And whatever we do, never, ever say anything about my dead sister.’

  Violet grabbed her daughter’s wrist. ‘That’s enough.’

  Her mother’s face was wild with grief. Cadi saw it, but it made no difference. ‘I hate you!’

  ‘You know perfectly well why I’ve forbidden you to go to the lake.’ Violet shook Cadi’s arm. ‘Why would you want to anyway? Why?’

  Cadi thrust her mother’s hand away. ‘You’re hurting me!’

  ‘You don’t go to the lake, Cadi, you don’t. Do you hear me?’

  ‘You can’t stop me! I’m fourteen, I’m not a child!’ The shriek in her voice reminded her of the bird in the square. ‘Why can’t you just tell me, Mam?’

  ‘This is your fault.’ Violet let Cadi go and turned her outrage on her sister-in-law. ‘I knew I couldn’t trust you.’

  The stink from Violet’s cigarette had absorbed the air in the small room. Cadi watched her mother, saw the glitter in her eyes; saw how she was on the edge of panic. She heard Lili’s voice and the beginnings of her sarcastic laughter. Watching Violet’s contempt, remembering what day it was and forcing herself to stop her rage.

  ‘You’ve always been able to trust me,’ Lili said.

  ‘I’d rather trust a mad dog.’

  ‘For goodness sake, Violet.’ Lili tried to put her arm around Cadi but this too was thrown off. ‘Look at her. It’s not her fault.’

  Violet banged her hand on the table. ‘You have to stop talking about it, both of you.’ She glared at Lili. ‘You promised, you evil bitch.’

  There are some words that go too far. Lili said if Violet didn’t leave she would make her.

  ‘You don’t scare me, Lilwen Hopkins.’

  That’s not true though, is it? You scare each other. Cadi’s voice was measured now and disdainful. ‘She hasn’t told me anything, you stupid woman. Don’t blame Lili. Blame yourself. Then again, why not? Go ahead and blame her too. You’re as bad as each other.’

  Violet reached for her raincoat. ‘You’ve always hated me, haven’t you, Lili?’

  Cadi could hear Lili breathing, heard her own breath, almost in time.

  ‘Right now,’ Lili said, ‘I can’t describe how I feel about you.’

  Cadi reached for her bag. Somewhere in the outer reaches of her brain, a bird screeched again. ‘What is wrong with you two? I thought I was supposed to be the kid around here?’

  Violet emitted a brief s
igh. ‘It’s nothing to do with Lili; none of this is any of her business.’

  The three of them knew this was a lie. Cadi was amazed how much hostility her mother could compress into a single breath.

  ‘You really are stupid, aren’t you, Mam?’ she said. ‘It’s to do with all of us.’

  Four

  It wasn’t in Cadi’s nature to be defiant.

  Some days are different and even the most reasonable people find their breaking point. Cadi felt neither reasonable nor particularly rebellious. She felt miserable and wretched and wanted only to escape. The headache had come back. Cadi never got headaches and now she seemed to have a permanent one.

  The late afternoon sun lay warm on her hair. She dawdled along the rutted path towards the lake, scuffing the toes of her shoes in the dust. On either side, Ragged Robin and foxgloves floated between hedges threaded with honeysuckle. Small blue butterflies darted everywhere.

  So what if her mother forbade her from going to the lake? She went anyway (and Lili knew it). Her mother was selfish and irrational; Lili was a hypocrite. Usually when she was angry with Lili, she was also aware of her loyalty; this time, Lili’s hypocrisy felt like betrayal.

  She’s the one always telling me to think for myself and ask questions. How could her aunt be so clever and yet so foolish? It’s not fair. Why can’t they see this? Cadi knew she ought to feel guilty about upsetting her mother. About forgetting it would have been Dora’s birthday. I don’t know what the fuss is though – we’ve never made a thing of it before.

  The story she had grown up with was straightforward. Her sister drowned in a tragic accident and her mother couldn’t bear to talk about it. Then her father died too, and talking about that freaked her mother out so much it was frightening. She was already pregnant with me when he died. No wonder she hates me.

  Lili showed her pictures of Teilo and Cadi knew he’d been good fun and mad about cars. But if Cadi questioned her, about her sister and the accident, there was always a point when Lili hesitated, when she changed the subject and urged Cadi not to upset her mother.

  In spite of this, up until now, Cadi’s world had been simple. Even her mother, in her oddness, managed a kind of consistency in her care. And Lili kept her safe. Cadi knew her aunt shielded her from the excesses of Violet’s grief.

  She instantly rejected any kind thoughts, reminding herself Lili was as bad as her mother. I’ve had to make up my own story because I haven’t known any better. But it’s never been the truth; only their version of it. Cadi plodded down the path, her head down, fighting tears. Those horrid village women know more than I do.

  If you don’t know who you are, your story is incomplete.

  At the end of the path the way narrowed between birch and hazel trees to little more than a rabbit trail. Parting the overhanging branches, Cadi walked on until she came out at the lake. It lay as placid and familiar as ever and she paused. Tree shadows shivered on the water and light ran across the surface like molten gold.

  She sat down in front of a flat outcrop the locals called the Sleeping Stone. At the edge of the lake, tiny waves lapped against the shallows. As she leaned back, the sun warmed her face. She pulled a copy of Jane Eyre from her bag. If she was going to be miserable, she decided, she may as well make a proper job of it.

  From the shadows the ghost catches a glimpse of Cadi, near the water, her flowered frock soaking up the afternoon sun.

  Can you see me?

  She watches Cadi and the longing returns. Beneath her skin, she feels the sharpness again: small barbs of pain. Her fingers flex and stretch.

  Do you hear me?

  I am too young to be here alone.

  Cadi carries on reading and the little ghost watches her eyes as they move across the page.

  Crouching at the edge of the water, under the surface, the ghost sees tiny, darting fish.

  I lost something…

  Look in the water…

  Why don’t you see me?

  Thirsty, Cadi laid her book to one side.

  At the water’s edge she could see a shadow made of mist. A shiver of energy ran down her back. She blinked and it was gone. I’m imagining things.

  She walked to the lake’s edge, scooped up a handful of cold water and drank it down. Minnows nosed the surface and Cadi tried to catch one. It shimmied away, a sliver of mermaid light. She smiled and watched the water as it settled, revealing delicate, coloured pebbles.

  Look in the water…

  The shivery feeling came back and Cadi stared out across the lake. It felt unexpectedly dangerous and she looked away into the shallows again. As she did, clear as could be, lying on the stones beneath the surface of the water, she saw a thin silver bangle. The moment her fingers closed around it, the scent of meadowsweet clogged the air, so intensely it made her lightheaded. Her ears filled with the sound of her heart, beating like a drum, and she had to lean her weight on her other hand to stop herself falling into the water.

  I lost something…

  It was a baby’s bangle. The kind you adjusted to fit a tiny wrist, decorated with a pattern of flowers. Cadi shook her head to clear it of the cloying smell. She turned over the bangle, looking for signs of rust. There were none. It looked as good as new – someone must have lost it recently. She slipped it into the pocket of her jacket. She would ask at the shop. Someone may have put up a card.

  I’m afraid and I don’t understand…

  From behind her she heard a bird call, an odd, trapped sound making her shiver again, and all at once she wanted to be at home. She put her book in her bag, and started toward the path.

  The birdsong subsided into a silence she could hear. Cadi was struck by a tremor of fear that made her stop. Unnerved in the strange hush and with the odour of meadowsweet still caught in her throat, she swallowed. Another shiver ran through her, and the certainty she was being watched.

  Or followed.

  Aros!

  ‘Wait for what?’ She spoke out loud, mostly to reassure herself. ‘There’s nobody here.’

  The undergrowth began to draw in the light, making the air feel heavy. The sense of being observed deepened: something or someone wanted to be noticed. Nothing felt familiar.

  Once again, Cadi told herself not to be silly. Of course it’s familiar – look, there’s the hazel tree.

  Only it wasn’t the same. The foliage looked denser and unnaturally dark. She felt movement, rustling and scratching, surrounding her and horribly alive. Oh my god, what’s happening?

  Cadi forced herself to begin walking. She moved a branch to one side. It snapped back, whipping against her face like a slap. She flinched and tried to dodge as it sprang toward her again.She yelled, raising her arm to ward off the blow. More branches curled around her head, catching in her hair and dragging at it so hard her scalp hurt. She screamed and tried to cover her head with her hands. All around her the undergrowth shook. The trees, which normally stood benign and comforting, now seemed to gather around her and Cadi started running.

  It began to rain, falling in large drops like gravel on her head. Don’t stop. Keep running.

  Something was following her and she dared not look back. The path was slippery and as she ran she tried to avoid the muddy ruts in the track. Terrified, with her hair whipping across her face and blinding her, she stumbled and almost fell. Don’t look back.

  Cadi heard a jumble of words: hissed and angry words that might have been in her head, and might have been behind her.

  Blentyn drwg… Aros i mi…

  The Welsh was only vaguely familiar; the voice sounded like a furious child.

  ‘Leave me alone!’ She was running faster now, not caring if she fell. The rain lashed down. Behind her something landed on the ground, missing her head by inches. She turned and saw a branch, the raw rip where it had been torn from the tree white as an exposed bone.

  Aros!

  She screamed and fled. The lane came into sight and as Cadi rounded the last curve and saw the cottage, she
bolted for the gate. When she was inside she sank to the ground, breathing hard, crying with fear, her hair plastered to her head.

  Once again she heard the shrieking bird. Shaking, she risked a glance down the lane. There was nothing to be seen and for a moment she could believe she had imagined everything. As she touched her stinging cheek her fingers came away covered in blood.

  Cadi looked at it as if it belonged to someone else. This is crazy. I’ve been attacked by a tree.

  ‘Cadi?’ Lili appeared, a raincoat held over her head like a sail.

  Staggering to her feet, she whispered, ‘It’s nothing, I caught my face on a branch.’

  If you want to lie successfully, stick as near to the truth as you can.

  ‘It doesn’t look like nothing to me.’ Lili threw the raincoat around Cadi’s shoulders and took her chin in her hand. ‘That’s a nasty cut, cariad. And you’re shaking like a leaf.’

  In the kitchen Lili bathed Cadi’s wounds.

  ‘That was some branch,’ she said, dabbing at Cadi’s face.

  Cadi didn’t answer.

  Lili smoothed comfrey ointment over the cuts. ‘There you go, that ought to do it. Take the jar with you and put some more on later.’ She set a pan of milk to boil. ‘I’ll make you some hot chocolate.’

  As suddenly as it had begun, the rain stopped. The light began to fade. Cadi imagined something sliding along the wall and the fear returned. ‘You won’t say anything to Mam, will you?’

  ‘Is there something to say?’ Lili gave Cadi a look. ‘Like, you’ve been to the lake?’

  ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going, that’s all.’

  ‘You haven’t answered my question. And Violet isn’t blind. Those cuts aren’t going to disappear overnight.’ Lili spooned chocolate into mugs and opened the biscuit tin. ‘And I’m not sure I buy the branch thing. Something else happened, didn’t it? Was somebody else there?’

  ‘No!’ Cadi couldn’t meet Lili’s gaze. ‘Don’t go making it more than it is, okay?’

  ‘I’m not making it anything.’

  ‘Promise me.’

  ‘All I’m saying is, if your mam asks outright, I’m not telling lies.’ Lili poured hot milk into the mugs. ‘I’m in enough trouble as it is.’