CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The hospital was a mile or two from the town centre. Better catch a bus. Then she’d be back in Ashton well before Dad left work.

She felt light-headed with relief, walking along the busy street away from the hospital, her bag over her shoulder. They’d forced her into it really, hadn’t they? But she could choose. Why should she do what they wanted? Didn’t she always do that? Well, not now, not any more. She’d show them. Why shouldn’t she be a mother? What did age have to do with it? She’d find a way.

Mia sat on the top floor of the bus at the front. She’d not been along this route before. The bus didn’t go straight into town like she’d expected, but turned off and meandered through huge estates of houses she didn’t know existed. At each stop there were groups of mothers with small kids and pushchairs. Mia stared out of the window at the rows of terraced houses, the semis with paired front gardens, neat squares with clipped rose trees next to wild wastelands of bindweed and dandelion, rusting swings and half-dismantled motorbikes. On the outskirts of Ashton the bus lurched along a pot-holed road to a row of houses near the old gas works.

Mia’s heart skipped a beat – a small girl was sitting on the low wall in front of one of the houses. Lainey? The bus had gone past the stop, but Mia was sure it had been her. She craned back to get another glimpse. The child had turned too, gazing back at Mia. She saw Lainey’s dark eyes, her halo of fair hair, the thin cotton dress she’d worn that first time Mia’d seen her on the bridge. Impulsively, Mia pressed the bell. The bus driver swore, braked, barked something at Mia as she clattered down the stairs and out of the door. She didn’t care.

The figure had disappeared from the wall. Now Mia couldn’t be sure on which wall exactly she had seen Lainey; the walls and houses all looked exactly the same. She hovered on the pavement, suddenly uncomfortable. A woman stared at her through one of the windows opposite. Now she could hear a baby crying. Perhaps it was Lainey’s baby, the baby who was sick. But there was no sign of Lainey. What was she playing at? She’d definitely seen Mia, the way she’d turned and watched the bus. But maybe she hadn’t realized Mia would get off the bus to find her. Should she knock on one of the doors now she was here? If only the woman didn’t look so hostile, standing there watching her.

A car careered past, splashing right through a puddle and drenching Mia’s legs. Two youths hung out of the windows and laughed. The woman at the window turned her back on Mia. In the house next door someone was playing music. A light was on upstairs. She’d nothing to lose, had she? She’d knock on the door and ask which house was Lainey’s. She had to find her, tell her what had happened. About her baby.

Baby Baby Baby. She said the word over and over in her head, trying to take it in, make it real. She, Mia, with a baby! And then the thought came, Lainey would be pleased. Lainey would understand.

The rain started again while Mia wondered whether she dared knock. The door suddenly opened and a man with grey hair tied back in a ponytail looked directly at her.

‘Do you want something?’

Mia nodded. ‘Does a little girl, Lainey, live here? One of these houses?’

He shrugged. ‘Not here. Dunno. Millions of kids round here. What’s she look like?’

‘Little. Thin. About eight. She was out on the street just a minute ago. Fair hair, sort of fluffed up round her head. In an old-fashioned sort of summer dress?’

He shrugged again. ‘Can’t help you. Sorry.’

She knew he was watching her as she walked along the pavement. Creepy. She wished she’d stayed on the bus. Her bag was heavy, dragging at her shoulder. Now she’d have to walk into town and where was she going to go then? Dad would be making his way to the hospital any minute. They must have realized she’d gone missing; there’d be police called out or something.

What on earth was she going to do?

Mia turned away from the gas works and walked back to the main road. Too bad if they saw her. Where did she think she was going to hide anyway? They’d catch up with her sooner or later.

The main road was busy with traffic. The narrow pavement petered out altogether once she’d got past the refuse depot and she had to huddle into the edge of the buildings that lined this section of the road. Water sprayed up from the puddles as cars splashed by. Her trainers were already soaked. How did Lainey manage this busy road? Or did her mother drop her off somewhere in town each morning, thinking she was going into school?

At last she reached the part of Ashton she recognized. Factories and warehouses changed to office blocks, car parks, the college where Becky wanted to do her textiles course next year. Then the first row of shops. Mia headed for the old market. So far, so good. No one had stopped her. No police-car sirens. No sign of Dad.

Mia ordered herself a hot chocolate in the market cafe. Her feet were freezing in the sodden trainers. Her hands shook as she took the mug from the counter.

‘You OK, love?’

Mia nodded. Mustn’t cry.

‘Look. You sit down and I’ll bring it over. You can’t carry it like that! The world on your shoulders! What you got in there? The kitchen sink?’

Mia squeezed herself along the row of plastic chairs fixed to the floor alongside the table in the far corner of the cafe.

‘There you are, love. You’re wet through, aren’t you?’

Mia fumbled in her bag for her purse. She hoped the woman hadn’t seen inside her bag. All her stuff. She mustn’t look suspicious.

‘I’ve seen you in here before, haven’t I?’ The woman wanted to chat.

‘Yes.’

Mia didn’t want to talk. But then she remembered the last time she’d been here, with Lainey. Perhaps this woman knew Lainey too? She might be able to help.

‘I come in here with a little girl sometimes. Thin, fair hair, wears funny sort of clothes? Have you seen her?’

‘Can’t say I remember her. But we get all sorts here. It’s cheap and cheerful, isn’t it? Not those silly prices you pay in the posh places.’

Two people were queuing at the counter; the woman had to go back to serve them. Mia warmed her hands on the mug of hot chocolate and planned her next move. The river. If Lainey wasn’t there, she’d give up and go home.

Home? How could she possibly go there now? What could she possibly say to Dad? He’d go completely mental. He’d probably kill her. And then Will. The enormity of what she’d done began to trickle through.

All the recent rain had swelled the river, churned it brown and swirling and fast. Not much more and it would burst the banks. The water raced under the bridge, thick and dark. Whole trees were being whirled downstream. Further down the river a shabby, patched-up narrow boat was moored; the sort you live in, with a wood-burning stove and curtains at the little windows. There was smoke coming from a chimney. Mia watched a woman on the deck unpacking a bike pannier, and then a younger woman appeared on deck and waved up at the bridge. Mia turned to see who she was waving at.

She gasped. There she was again, perched on the parapet like a bird about to take flight, her hair lifting in the wind. Lainey, bird-child, looking as if she might fall at any moment. Mia rushed back towards the steps, but Lainey was safely back on the road already, her pointed little face beaming at Mia. ‘There you are! Good. I knew you’d come.’

‘What do you mean? And how –’

‘How’s your baby then?’

Mia flushed. ‘I’m going to keep the baby after all. I wanted to tell you, Lainey. I knew you’d be glad. I’ve just come from the hospital. I changed my mind. Ran away. Just now. This morning. And I wanted to tell you.’

‘Good. We’ll both have babies then, won’t we? My baby’s getting better.’

‘I thought I saw you, earlier. At your house. Didn’t you see me, on the bus? I got off specially.’

Lainey just laughed. She waved again at the girl on the boat. ‘See them? You know, from that stall? I told them about you, but they’d already spotted you. They’re kind. They give me dinner sometimes. Are you hungry? Come on. You can meet them.’

Lainey skipped along the river path; Mia panted behind, out of breath, trying to keep up.

‘Why do you do that, Lainey? Go up on the bridge like you were a moment ago? It isn’t safe, you know. And I’m sure it was you back on the estate. You saw me, didn’t you? On that bus? Where did you go?’

‘Don’t you ever stop asking stuff? It makes my head hurt.’

They’d reached the moored boat. Mia could read its name now, painted in blue along the peeling green side: Dragonfly. The dark-haired woman smiled at them both. Mia recognized her now. She had that stall by the wall in the precinct, with the ‘Temporary Tattoos’ sign, where she laid out hair braids and Indian-looking stuff, embroidered wrist bands and necklaces made of glittery beads, beautiful bags. Too expensive for Mia.

‘This is Mia,’ Lainey said. ‘She’s my friend. Can we come on the boat?’

Mia ignored the voice in her head. Dad’s voice, drummed into her over years and years, warning her to ‘be careful, beware strangers’. Walking out of the hospital ward, she’d stepped over some invisible line. Now anything was possible.

The woman held out her hand to steady Mia as she stepped across from the slippery bank.

‘Evie,’ she introduced herself. ‘Hello. And that’s Shannon.’

Mia had seen her before too: that amazing head of auburn hair braided into masses of tiny plaits, the bright orange mohair jumper. She was skinny, like Mia. Dark eyes. She didn’t look much older than Mia.

‘Hi. We’ve seen you around. Wondered about you. Thought you might be one of us. Your hair’s different, isn’t it? Not long enough for braids now. Suits you!’ Shannon smiled.

One of us? What did she mean?

‘You’re soaked. Want to come in out of the rain for a bit?’ Evie asked.

Mia looked towards Lainey.

‘It’s fine. You go. I’m busy. Bye.’

‘Hang on, Lainey! Wait! Where are you going?’ But Lainey was already skipping back along the path towards the bridge. Mia stood there, stranded. Embarrassed.

‘Well? You coming in or not?’ Evie smiled warmly at Mia.

‘Sorry. OK. Thanks.’

What else could she do? It was pouring with rain. She had nowhere else to go.

She followed Evie through the wooden door of the narrow boat, down the step into the cabin.

Inside, it was dark and smelled strange. Incense? Oils? Mia wrinkled up her nose. The small windows were draped with swathes of embroidered and sequinned cloth, like the quilt on the low beds which lined the narrow space. Deep reds and purples and gold. At the far end there was a little kitchen, with a wood burner and even a tiny sink and draining board. There were shelves above it, and mugs on hooks. Like a play house. Becky would love it.

‘Sit down then. Take off your wet things. Shannon’s making soup. Want some? You look frozen.’

‘Thanks. If it’s OK? I’m starving.’

Mia took off her wet fleece. She shivered. She was chilled through. She watched Evie ladle out three bowls. She hadn’t eaten anything since last night, she realized. You weren’t allowed to eat anything after twelve the night before the operation, because of the anaesthetic.

The soup tasted wonderful. Evie nodded at Mia’s empty soup bowl. ‘You needed that. How come you were so hungry? What’ve you been doing?’

Mia hunched on the edge of the seat, suddenly shy again. ‘Well –’

‘Stop hassling, Evie. Give her some space,’ Shannon interrupted.

Evie looked crushed. She ladled some more soup into Mia’s bowl, and they ate in silence. The rain battered against the roof.

Finally Mia looked up. ‘So do you both live here? On the boat?’

‘Yes,’ Evie said. ‘Lovely, isn’t it?’

‘Better in the summer, when it’s not always raining,’ Shannon said. ‘But it’s cool. Beats houses. We can just move on whenever we need to!’

‘What did you mean,’ Mia asked, ‘when you said I was one of us?’

‘What?’

‘When I first got here, you said you thought I might be one of us.’

Shannon smiled. ‘Oh, that! Nothing much. You know, bunking off school, doing your own thing. A free spirit. Like us. We’ve seen you around lately. That’s all.’

It was odd to think she’d been noticed. She’d thought of herself as invisible, wandering round Ashton alone these last weeks. ‘I’ve seen you before too. Your stall. With all the Indian stuff,’ Mia said. ‘My friend Becky loves all that stuff. She’d love this too.’ Mia stroked the embroidered quilt on the couch. Thinking of Becky made her feel suddenly lonely.

‘So,’ Evie leaned forward eagerly, ‘let me guess your story. Everyone has a story, you know.’

‘Evie? Shut it. Can’t you see she’s all done in?’

Sooner or later she’d have to tell them. What she’d done. About the baby. Right now, all she wanted to do was sleep.

Squalls of rain battered the windows, like gravel against glass. The boat bumped against the bank, tugging at the mooring rope. The river made a roaring sound, rushing down towards the weir.

They sat with her for hours, it seemed, while she dozed. Waited, patiently. Every so often, Evie opened a can of beer, or lit a cigarette. Shannon flicked through a magazine.

Now Mia was properly awake, Evie leaned forward again.

‘So what’s your story, Mia? Parents? Boyfriend? Beating you up or something? Or school?’

Shannon got up from her seat next to the stove. ‘Don’t let her go on at you, Mia. You don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to.’

‘It’s all right. I don’t mind. I want to tell you. I haven’t told anyone yet. Except Lainey.’

Evie opened another can of beer.

Mia’s mouth felt dry. She looked down at her feet as she talked, mumbling her words. ‘This morning. I was at the hospital. For an operation. But I couldn’t let them do it. Now I don’t know what to do.’

She began to cry.

Evie glanced towards Shannon. ‘It’s OK. An abortion, right?’

‘But I couldn’t – I really couldn’t – and so I ran out – and where do I go now? What on earth am I going to do?’

Evie sipped at the can. She offered some to Mia, who shook her head. ‘It’ll make me sick.’

‘So you’re pregnant. That’s not so bad, you know. It’s just what they tell you. Some people would be pleased.’ Evie looked at Shannon, who said nothing. ‘So go on then. You might as well tell us the rest.’

She told them everything. About Dad. Will, little bean.

Evie and Shannon listened, and nodded, and drank more beer.

‘Well,’ Evie finally said. ‘It’s hard. But you’ll be OK. You’ve got us now. Running away, moving on: that’s what we do best, isn’t it, Shannon?’

‘Cool it, Evie. She’s just a kid.’

Mia flushed. ‘You don’t look much older than me.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Fifteen. Nearly sixteen.’

‘How nearly?’ Evie asked.

‘February.’

‘And your baby will be born when?’

Mia felt confused again. ‘I – well – I suppose May.’

‘You’re going to have it then?’ Shannon asked.

‘Well, yes. At the hospital, this morning, I suddenly just sort of knew. I couldn’t let them do that to me. And the baby.’

Shannon nodded. ‘Good. That’s cool. You’ll be a great mother. Won’t she, Evie?’

But Evie didn’t answer. She bent forward to pick up the empty beer cans, so her hair hid her face, and then carried them into the kitchen area and started riddling the stove noisily. Mia looked at Shannon for some sort of explanation, but her face was blank, watching Evie.

Shannon turned back towards Mia. ‘So what do you want to do now?’

‘I haven’t thought. I don’t know. They’ll be looking for me by now. I suppose I have to let Dad know I’m OK.’

Shannon nodded.

‘But if I go back home, they’ll try to make me –’ Mia started to cry again. ‘I don’t want to go back there.’

‘It’s OK. You don’t have to go anywhere. You and your baby.’ Evie had regained her composure. She came right over to Mia and put an arm round her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll help you.’

Her sudden warmth made Mia cry more. She’d walked out of that hospital ward this morning expecting nothing but criticism, rejection. And yet here she was, a few hours later, on a strange boat, being comforted by two women who knew nothing about her really. Were completely different from her, far removed from her life in Whitecross. But they weren’t cross. Didn’t judge. Had welcomed her with open arms.

Shannon lit the candle lantern in the kitchen area and it threw shadows around the cramped space.

When Mia finally stopped crying, Shannon spoke gently to her. ‘So how come you’ve not mentioned your mum so far, Mia? Where’s she?’

‘Bristol, now. She left us when I was little. Dad, and my sisters and me,’ Mia began to explain.

The shadows stretched and quivered, and the narrow boat bumped and bobbed on the swollen river. For the first time in ages, Mia felt she wasn’t alone.