Ava sits at her desk. Students come and go, asking her questions, handing in old books and requesting new ones. Ava nods and responds. She provides them with accurate information and useful literature. But, all the while, she’s contained within a smog of sorrow, mourning the loss of her friend, though he isn’t even dead yet.
It’ll be soon, Ava is quite sure of this. Although why she didn’t see it until yesterday, she isn’t at all sure. Perhaps her mind blocked it out so that she’d be able to make a friend, so she’d be able to enjoy being free and easy with another human being, for once, for the first time in a very long time.
With the exception of those few hours with Finn, the only friend she’d ever been completely herself with was her sister. This wasn’t because Ava hadn’t seen Helen’s death, she had and she’d blurted it out one afternoon while they were playing in the garden. It was leukaemia, it would strike when she was twelve years old and it’d devour her quickly.
Ava was terrified that Helen would tell their parents, and that she would spend the rest of her years consumed by fear and sorrow. But she didn’t. Helen told Ava that she was glad to know, and she’d have as much fun as possible with all the years of her life she had left: six.
Ava was the lucky partner in most of these activities. They climbed trees, searched for shrews and voles in the undergrowth, went on long bike rides through the meadows … They rarely bothered to do their homework but instead had a million imaginary adventures together, staying up late most nights, reading novels with torches under their bed sheets and eating midnight cake. Helen appreciated every lovely little moment of life, so that everyone loved to be around her and even adults commented that she was a particularly joyful child. Helen never complained that she didn’t have enough, that she was bored, that she didn’t want to eat dinner. Instead she threw herself into life with unreserved passion and brought joy to everyone she met, Ava most of all.
When the cancer finally came, Helen assured Ava that she was okay, that she was glad to have known, to have sucked all the juice out of life before the sweet fruit was snatched away. She was glad it was over quickly too, all the pain of diagnosis and treatments, all the time in hospital. Helen held Ava’s hand at the end and smiled up at her through both their tears. Ava clutched her sister’s fingers until they went cold.
At first, Ava thought that, given her sister’s experience of life and death, perhaps other people might want to know in advance the dates of their own demise. However, following several incidents at school – involving both students and teachers – that culminated in Ava’s expulsion at the age of ten and a half, she finally accepted that this wasn’t the case.
Ava suspects that Ross might be just like Helen, that he will embrace the knowing and suck all the last juices out of life before he goes. But, since that is the way Ross lives his life anyway – as if every day might be his last day in the chocolate shop – that’d only leave Ava with the miserable duty of darkening the horizon. Which, unfortunately, is something she just can’t bear to do.
‘Your cooking is definitely improving,’ Greer says. ‘Judging by the smell of that chicken, anyway.’
Tilly bites into her sandwich and chews. She nods. ‘Yeah, Dad, this is actually edible. Well done.’
Edward smiles. ‘Gosh, thanks Till, for that highest of accolades, and for showing me the entire contents of your mouth.’
Tilly giggles.
‘It doesn’t sound like I should trade in being an architect for a career in the catering industry just yet, though.’
Tilly frowns. She shifts on the black-and-white blanket laid across the grass, reaching for her plastic cup of orange juice. ‘But you’re not an architect any more, Dad, so what difference does it make?’
‘Till—’ Greer reprimands her.
But Edward smiles. ‘Well, actually, the purpose of this little picnic is actually to celebrate the fact that, from next Monday, I will be an architect once more.’
‘Really?’ Greer says. ‘Oh, Ed, that’s wonderful, congratulations!’
‘No shit, Dad? That’s great.’
‘Tilly!’ Edward and Greer both exclaim in unison.
‘Jeez, can the parental unit chill for a sec?’ Tilly holds up her hands in defence. The sandwich filling falling out as she does so, slices of chicken and tomato tumbling into her lap. ‘Oh, shit,’ she says again, picking them up out of her skirt.
Edward opens his mouth to admonish her, then instead starts to laugh. Catching his eye, Greer starts to giggle too, which only lifts Edward’s spirits and makes him laugh harder.
Tilly looks from one parent to the other. ‘What’s going on with you two?’
Edward shakes his head. ‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘I … I’m just happy, that’s all.’
Tilly narrows her eyes at him. ‘Have you got a new girlfriend?’
‘What?’ Edward frowns. ‘What on earth makes you say that?’
Tilly shrugs. ‘It’d be a good reason, that’s all.’
‘But, but what makes you think …?’ Edward trails off. ‘I mean …’
Tilly rolls her eyes. ‘You guys think I’m so stupid. I know Mum’s got a boyfriend, so, I just thought it made sense.’
Edward looks at Greer. ‘I thought we weren’t going to tell her, until we’d got it all a bit more figured out.’
‘Don’t blame me,’ Greer says. ‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘She didn’t have to, Dad, I’m not a silly kid. I knew something was going on since we saw Mum in the garden with the next-door neighbour.’
‘Till,’ Greer exclaims, ‘you make it sound so sordid! We weren’t even touching.’
Tilly nods, knowingly. ‘Yeah, well, you didn’t have to be. It was obvious. Trust me, I know about these things.’
‘You know about these things?’ Edward repeats, horrified. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Tilly just shrugs.
‘Well, I very much hope you don’t mean by personal experience because, however wise you are, you’re still only thirteen years old, young lady,’ Edward says. ‘We don’t want to be having the talk with you just yet. I hadn’t planned on having to tell you about all that till your sixteenth birthday, at least.’
‘Oh, Dad, grow up,’ Tilly says. ‘We learnt about all that in sex-ed class, like a year ago.’
‘What?’ Edward’s eyes widen. ‘They’re teaching sex to teenagers? That’s outrageous!’
‘I’m sure they’re not teaching them how to have sex,’ Greer says, ‘just how to be safe, when the time comes.’
Tilly nods.
‘They shouldn’t need to be safe, they shouldn’t be doing anything to be safe from in the first place,’ Edward exclaims. ‘I’m calling the headmaster, first thing in the morning.’
‘Oh, please, Dad.’ Tilly sighs. ‘Just cos you live like a monk, doesn’t mean the rest of the world should too.’
‘I’m not talking about the rest of the world,’ Edward snaps, ‘I don’t care what they do. I’m just talking about you. And, anyway, I do not live like a monk.’
Tilly meets this protest with another roll of her eyes. Edward looks to Greer for support, but she can only give a little shrug of apologetic agreement with her daughter’s statement.
‘Huh, well, what do you two know, anyway?’ Edward huffs. Then he frowns at Tilly. ‘But you don’t mind? I mean, that me and your mother aren’t … That we’re not together in the traditional sense?’
Tilly laughs. ‘Oh, Dad, we’re hardly a traditional family, now, are we? Anyway …’ She shrugs. ‘I don’t really care, as long as you’re both happy. It was pretty awful living with you before, Dad, you were so freaking miserable all the time. Then Mum came back and you were happy but then she wasn’t so much. But now, whatever, whatever, you’re both happy. So I don’t really care what you’re doing, as long as you stay like this.’
Edward and Greer exchange a look.
‘Yeah, so, most of my friends, their parents are either divorced or married but constantly sniping at each other,’ Tilly says, chewing her sandwich once more. ‘But, now, you guys are like best friends. So, the way I see it, I’m pretty lucky.’
Edward sighs. ‘How old are you? You sound wiser than anyone I know. Especially me.’
‘And me,’ Greer says.
Tilly just shrugs and smiles.