Chapter 9: Victoria Schormann

Evening: Wednesday, September 17th

Victoria woke with a start. The air inside the camper van was heavy with an oily, pungent herbal scent mixed with the smell of exhaust fumes. She was crushed between the two other girls, who were deep in sleep, each resting their heads on her shoulder.

‘I feel a bit sick,’ she said.

‘Hold it together, babe, we’re nearly there.’ Seth spun the vehicle round the corner of a wide street and then wound the driver’s window down. ‘That better?’

‘Thanks.’ She took deep breaths hoping to ward off the nausea but there was no fresh air coming in, only muggy damp air. ‘How much further?’

‘Don’t you recognise anywhere, Summer?’

‘Summer?’ Victoria looked up.

‘That’s what I’ve decided you should be called from now on. Don’t you like it, babe?’ His hazel eyes locked on hers through the rear view mirror.

Did he look … sound annoyed?

Victoria didn’t know what to say. ‘Fab,’ she managed in the end, forcing an enthusiastic tone into her words. She was almost reassured when he laughed but then realised how artificial it sounded.

‘So … know where you are?’ This time his eyes smiled. But it was as though he was laughing at a joke only he understood.

The scenery had changed from when she was last awake. The winding roads – that followed the lines of hills covered in a sea of yellow gorse and purple heather that bordered rolling fields, were now angular streets of stone, terraced houses and thin sentinels of lampposts. As she gazed through the windscreen the lights flickered on, one by one, orange and red flashes through the steady drizzle. The tarmac and pavements glistened dark with rain. The colours of the doors of the houses were dull as if drained away, she thought. And as yet there were only a few windows lit to show the family life carrying on inside. Most of the houses were dark shadows.

She managed to keep the shock concealed. They were in Ashford. Why were they in Ashford?

‘Remember that time we met up here, the week after the fest? We walked along the canal and I asked you what those buildings were. You told me about the place, said it was empty … don’t you remember?’

‘I’d forgotten. But it’s derelict.’ It had been a ruin for as long as she’d been coming to Ashford with Mum and Dad. ‘I don’t understand. How did you…? You didn’t tell me you’d moved,’ she said, in the end.

‘Well, after you’d said it was empty it seemed the obvious choice, given we got kicked out of that dump in Manchester.’ He slowed the camper van down to negotiate some potholes.

Was he laughing at her? He knew she had family here. She wouldn’t be able to go into Ashford on her own.

‘Problem?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing.

‘I was just thinking I’d have to be careful going into town, in case I see someone I know.’ Where was the freedom? Ashford she thought, incredulous. She’d thought she’d be escaping from the lot of them.

He didn’t answer for a moment and then he glanced at her again. ‘Guy from the council came round after we’d got in. Made noises at first about getting us out but nothing’s happened so guess they don’t care. The girls have made it a home from home,’ he said. ‘Didn’t take long after we all pitched in. You’ll be surprised.’

She would … horrible place. She caught a glimpse of the iron gates that led to the park she’d been to with Linda a few times in the past.

She remembered her cousin once saying she hated this time of day, just before it was properly dark. She’d said it frightened her. And, for the first time, Victoria understood; dusk here was depressing. Or was it just that she was unexpectedly depressed?

The sadness took her by surprise. She wondered how her parents were, how hurt they would be by what she had done. The return of the guilt was unexpected.

And yet, for the first time in years, it was Nain Gwyneth she suddenly missed. Not really their grandmother but as good as, with her lovely warm brown eyes that always seemed to twinkle in a special way just for Victoria. She wished she was still alive. It was impossible, of course; she was already ancient when she and Richard were small kids. Her eyes prickled with tears. She knew the old woman would have managed to talk her out of this, just as she had talked her out of many an escapade when she was younger.

She closed her eyes against the burn of tears. She didn’t want Seth to see the doubt she was feeling. The fear.

The two girls shifted against her as they swung around another corner. Amber flopped forward and Victoria caught her before she fell against Seth’s seat, dislodging Jasmine. They both stretched, leaning away from her and yawning.

She wondered if they had families, parents. Grandparents. If they had ever felt as isolated, as lonely, as she did right now.

Except for Nain Gwyneth, there’d been no other grandparents. None on Dad’s side; she presumed they’d died in the war. And she’d never known Mum’s mum. There was a small, old, funny coloured photograph of Grandma Howarth with Uncle Tom, Mum’s brother, tucked into the corner of the frame of the family one on the back wall of the living room at home. They were standing arm-in-arm in the garden, in wellingtons and overcoats.

Both dead long before she was born.

Thinking about it, none of her cousins had grandparents. Not Jacqueline, not Linda and William. Well, perhaps Linda, she corrected herself; Linda had that woman she called a grandma; Grandma Nelly. Nelly Shuttleworth – not a relative at all as far as she could tell but they’d often been made to visit her because she was supposedly Mum’s friend as well. She wrinkled her nose. The house smelled and was crammed with really old scruffy furniture. And a stinky lavatory in a back yard.

She was better off having no grandma than one like Nelly Shuttleworth, she thought, as Seth swung the camper van off the road towards the two large gates and switched off the engine.