38

Lauren, 1999

The colour bled back slowly, like when you adjusted a telly. The birds sang out a second dawn. Although the day returned, it’d been pulled out of shape. I felt spacy. Gemma was very pale. Grandpa held the back of his head, a migraine kicking in. ‘Too much excitement in one day, Herbert. You’re all at sixes and sevens. As am I, frankly. We need a stiff drink and a lie-down,’ Granny said, escorting him back to the house, leaving us with Dad.

But something was going on with Dad too. The way he was just standing there, gazing out to sea, his eyes unnaturally bright, like the eclipse’s umbra was inside them. ‘I feel like Superman,’ he murmured, looking more like Jesus. He took a few photos of us – ‘My cosmic girls!’ – then drifted away in a daze. The huddles of eclipse-watchers began to pack up too. Dogs barked again. We sat down on the bench. We sat there for ages. Waiting for something else to happen. A sequin from Flora’s skirt stuck into my thigh.

‘So. Where’s the party, Kat?’ said Flora. Her facepaint flowers had smudged. ‘Because I see boring families. Old men in socks and sandals. I see a skinny-dipper. Gross.’

‘Patience.’ Kat leaned back, waggled her foot, like Dad did. ‘I told you, I heard local boys talking.’

‘What if you misheard, Kat?’ Flora blurted. We were all wound up. ‘And it’s the wrong cove? A party could be literally going on right now – somewhere else!’

‘Oh, the drama.’ Kat put the back of her hand to her forehead. ‘It just hasn’t started yet, that’s all.’

Even if we did find a party – and I’d only been to the sort with balloons and paper plates – it suddenly felt like a bad idea. I wanted to be somewhere quiet and private to absorb what I’d just witnessed. ‘I’m going to check the budgies are okay.’ I stood up, swaying slightly, holding down my dress in the wind.

‘I’ll come.’ Gemma’s voice skidded around, like the shock of the eclipse was still moving through her too. She peered under the bench, looking for her rucksack before realizing she’d left it at home.

‘Well, we can’t stay here, Kat. All dressed up. Just two of us. It looks loser-y. Let’s head back for a bit.’ A knowing smile slid into Flora’s voice. ‘Aren’t you, like, thirsty?’

I felt something pass between them, all the whispered conversations in which I’d not been included. ‘Well, since we’ve been left to our own devices, it’d be rude not to,’ said Kat. ‘But first … Lauren, wait.’

Kat wiped her thumb across her cheekbone, crusting it with glitter then solemnly smeared it down the bridge of my nose, my cheeks, her fingertip a wand. ‘There. Now we all look the same.’ She tilted her head on one side. ‘You look so pretty. Doesn’t Lauren look pretty?’

Gemma and Flora nodded in agreement. And I could feel the corners of my own mouth curling. I knew I shouldn’t be so easily won over. But it was a relief. As always with my sisters, it was impossible to hate them for long. I still wanted to be in their club. Still wanted to be them. I hadn’t yet realized Gemma did too. ‘Thanks,’ I said quietly, trying not to look too pleased.

Kat put an arm around my shoulders, her skin cool and soft against my neck, and we were walking like that – half hug, half headlock – back to the house when Angie drew up in her car, kicking out exhaust and slamming on the brakes.

She dangled her keys from one finger and eyed us up and down. ‘Well, don’t you lot scrub up nicely?’

So did Angie. Platform cork heels. Eyelashes like palm fronds. A floaty black dress, cinched in with a gold braided belt. Replaying in my head, her comment to Dad yesterday: ‘So we’re all good, you know. For our session tomorrow, Charlie.’ Something ugly twisted in my belly.

‘So, your dad … is he …’ Angie squinted up at the studio windows. ‘Ah. Grand.’ She smiled. Her lip gloss glistened, syrupy in the sunshine. ‘I see him.’ Holding her windblown hair off her face with one arm, she turned to me. ‘Has your father said anything?’

I caught the pitiful hope in her voice. She needed his approval as much as we did. ‘About what?’ I asked innocently.

Gemma, Kat and Flora stared at Angie blankly.

‘I smartened up the studio for him,’ Angie said. ‘As a surprise, you know.’

‘Don’t think he’s noticed,’ I said, enjoying this little bit of power.

Angie looked crushed, just for a moment, then tossed her hair, and walked towards the house, leaving the front door swinging. Her shoes were hammers on the stairs.

‘What was that all about?’ asked Flora.

I shrugged, not telling.

First, I checked Bertha, who seemed unruffled by the topsy-turvy dawn and sang a lyric from ‘Baby One More Time’. The budgies were less happy. It looked like there’d been a pillow fight in the aviary. Feathers carpeted its concrete floor, and the birds were still restless. I pressed my head against the metal mesh wall. ‘Oh dear.’

‘Poor things,’ said Gemma, and smothered a small sneeze in her hands. ‘They must have been so freaked out.’

‘Hey, come on!’ Kat called, and we turned.

My sisters had tossed a tartan picnic blanket on a sunny patch of lawn. Flora lay on her belly, her skirt sparkling, surely visible from space, chewing a blade of grass. Kat lolled next to her, legs kicked up, her face flat on one arm, her fingers twiddling with a hank of Flora’s hair. Beside them were beakers and a big bottle of lemonade. My mouth started to water. I’d barely drunk or eaten anything all morning. We joined them.

Outside the garden’s walls, a distant boom. Then another. Heavy fast beats, rising and falling on the wind. Kat’s head bobbed up. ‘The sound system! Told you!’ She slapped Flora’s bottom, then nodded up at the house. ‘Granny and Grandpa’s bedroom curtains are closed. I think it’s time, don’t you?’

The music started to build.

‘I’ll be mother.’ Flora sat up, cross-legged, not caring that she was flashing the gusset of her knickers. She poured the lemonade into plastic beakers. ‘Here you go.’

I took a thirsty gulp then spat it out onto the grass. ‘Ugh. What is that?’

Flora creased over in laughter.

‘You tricked me,’ I said, wiping my mouth with my arm. I was back on the ledge again, starting to fall.

‘If it’s safe for Granny.’ Kat sniffed her own glass. ‘From her drinks cabinet, that’s all, Lauren. Keep your hair on. It’s a Finch alcopop. We could charge good money for this.’

I pictured my grandparents’ collection of sticky bottles, the duty-free liqueurs that reminded me of the chemicals on Dad’s metal studio shelves. ‘But – but we’re not allowed,’ I stuttered, horrified, enthralled.

Gemma held her beaker away from her body, warily.

‘You won’t snitch, will you?’ Flora stroked the top of my bare foot in little circles with her finger. It felt nice.

‘I’d never snitch.’ The acrid smell of the drink mixed with the fresh green smell of the grass.

‘Gemma?’ Kat raised an eyebrow. ‘If you tell Viv, I swear …’

Gemma shook her head then flashed a slightly pleading look at me that said, Let’s get out of here, but I ignored it, my sisters exerting a stronger pull.

‘Down in one?’ Kat said, like she did this all the time. ‘Who’s game?’

It was like seeing a needle approaching a balloon. I knew I couldn’t stop it, that the day was about to spin in a new direction, hurling us out of childhood into a more exciting place. I also knew that if I joined in I’d prove myself equal. A Finch sister. Not just Dixie’s daughter, the gawky kid they resented. Finally, I’d belong.

‘Go,’ hissed Kat.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tipped my head back, trying not to retch as the liquid burned down my throat.

Flora and Kat wiped their mouths on the back of their hands.

The only person who hadn’t touched her drink was Gemma. ‘The smell.’ She coughed, shuddered. ‘Ugh.’

‘The smell is much worse than the taste,’ Flora lied.

‘Sip, sip,’ Kat and Flora chanted. I wanted to tell them to leave Gemma alone – she looked upset – but the garden had already started to wobble at the edges.

With no warning, Kat reached across and roughly shoved the beaker to Gemma’s mouth. Gemma whacked it away, knocking over the lemonade bottle, and sending its contents fizzing into the grass.

Kat and Flora yelled and laughed and scrabbled for it.

Gemma shot me a glance. It carried a question. But, for once, I couldn’t read it. Her eyes were a puzzle of silver and grey and green and they made me feel woozy. The music boomed louder. Bouff-bouff.

‘You don’t get off that easily, Gemma,’ Kat said. A hard-eyed smile.

Everything started to ripple. New sensations pinballed about my body. Then nausea roared up in a huge brown wave. ‘Need the bathroom.’ I held my hand over my mouth.

‘I’ll take you.’ Gemma scrabbled to her feet and took my arm.

‘No, no.’ I pulled away from her, not realizing she probably wanted to escape too. I suddenly wanted Mum so badly it squeezed the air out of me. If not her, no one.

The journey to the downstairs toilet took for ever. I got there just in time. Afterwards, I slurped cold water from the tap then sat on the toilet seat, my eyes closed. I’m not sure for how long: time tunnelled away.

Back in the garden, the others stopped talking when they saw me. The atmosphere had changed, although I couldn’t work out how, or why. But I didn’t want to throw up any more, and that was all that mattered. A new zingy boldness swept through me, a feeling that I could do anything. I’d passed through a door I hadn’t even realized was there, leaving the square, childish Lauren Molloy behind and I wanted the others to see this too. ‘Who wants to come inside the aviary?’ I sounded confident, cocky. Like someone else.

‘Oh, get you.’ Kat’s voice slurred. ‘Good little Laurie, breaking Granny’s ten commandments.’

‘You’re not catching me in there.’ Flora lay back on the blanket, hands behind her head and sighed at the sky. ‘Real-life corn birds. All that poo!’

We laughed. The air was sweet with honeysuckle. It wasn’t just Flora’s skirt, we all shimmered in the sunshine, our eyes full of light. Radiant, perfect. Gosh, we were beautiful. Even me. ‘Gemma?’ I could barely speak for smiling. ‘No one’s around.’

Gemma ran her palm over the top of the grass and shook her head. A ladybird landed on her knee, like a drop of blood.

‘Why not? Bet your mum has secrets too,’ Kat said.

The salt air twitched. I hadn’t the foggiest what Kat was talking about. I only knew that Gemma loved those budgies and summer would soon be over, and we’d not see each other for another year and go back to writing letters, which wasn’t the same.

‘I dare you, Gemma. Or are you scared of Granny?’ Kat carried on teasing. There was affection in her voice – we were all a bit scared of Granny – but I don’t think Gemma heard it.

‘Shut your cakehole.’ Gemma jumped up, eyes flashing. And she seemed taller, a whole lot fiercer.

‘She roars!’ Flora clapped, delighted, swivelled to her side, head on elbow. ‘Again, Gemma! Tell Kat where to stick it. No one ever does.’

‘And you can shut up too,’ hissed Gemma.

I’d never loved Gemma more intensely than at that moment. Even Kat and Flora were staring at her with new respect.

‘I’ll do it, Lauren,’ Gemma said, visibly steeling herself. ‘The aviary.’

I was thrilled. Careful not to let any budgies escape, I unbolted the aviary door, opening it just a crack. Gemma and I slipped in soundlessly, one after the other, like fish into a tank, another world, sending the birds into a frenzy. Feathery fluff kicked up under our feet and sent nutty dusty bird smells whirling, catching in our throats.

‘Stay still, very still, so we don’t spook them,’ I instructed quietly.

Standing with our backs to the garden, I resisted the urge to turn around when I heard a metallic noise. Out of the corner of my eye, a flicker of movement: Kat and Flora running towards the moon gate. After that, it all happened so quickly: the sneeze rising through Gemma, her desperate red-faced struggle to hold it in; me noticing the aviary door had been bolted from the outside; Gemma’s sneeze exploding, turning the aviary into a spinning cyclone of birds, feathers, dander and dust. A wheeze. A whistle. A scream.