CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

October 25th

‘The baby’s head is becoming more rounded and it has eyelids. Its muscles are developing and it is moving about inside the uterus much more. It is now about 6.5 cm long, but still weighs only 18 g.’

Another morning, clear and sunny. The air was chilled though. Mia had to borrow an extra jumper from Evie’s bag of charity-shop clothes. After breakfast, they settled themselves on the deck and Mia knew Evie was getting herself ready to talk.

‘Ready then? My story this morning.’

Mia nodded. She was scared she might say the wrong thing and put her off, so she kept quiet. Evie talked in a flat, low voice, without expression. She didn’t look at Mia the whole time.

‘Well, it starts with the usual things. Loathing school. Couldn’t see the point. Teachers on another planet. So I missed lessons, bunked off, hung around the town. Like you, only this wasn’t Ashton.’

Evie stopped talking for so long that Mia thought she’d forgotten what she was saying. She didn’t like to remind her. She watched Evie disappear back down into the cabin for a while; heard the hiss of a can being opened and the scrape of a match. She came back on to the deck and settled herself again.

‘Still listening?’ Evie’s voice was harsh. Mia nodded.

‘So it got worse. I couldn’t do any of the work any more and the teachers hated me for messing up. I didn’t get any of my exams. But I wasn’t stupid, don’t think that.’ Evie’s face was dark and her voice thick with hate. ‘My dad went mad and beat me up and made my mum cry. They were always arguing, anyway, but it got worse then. My dad said get a job or else. Well, in the end I just left. I stayed on friends’ floors to begin with, in squats and stuff, but it’s harder than you think, never any money, and people offer you drink and a smoke and it helps to begin with, makes you forget, you stop feeling so much – you don’t want to hear this, Mia.’

‘Yes I do.’

‘Well, maybe I don’t want to talk about it any more. That’s enough. That’s it, anyway. Things got bad. But they’re much better now, I mean, look at this beautiful boat –’ Evie stretched her arms out. ‘What more could you want? Never have to stay put, you just move on. Wonderful views, new people to meet.’

What more could you want? Mia could think of plenty of things. But she wouldn’t say, not to Evie. Evie had been generous and kind to Mia. She didn’t have much, but she shared it anyway. It didn’t seem the right time to ask how she’d got the boat. And there were other gaps in Evie’s story. The more she thought about it, the more Mia felt convinced that what Evie had said about Shannon’s baby was really about her own. Maybe she could ask Shannon when she turned up with Joe. If she did, of course.

Evie was lost in daydreams again. Perhaps Mia had made a mistake asking about the past. ‘Everyone has a story,’ Evie had said the first time she met them on the river. But stories come in different versions. And they’re not always happy.

‘I’m going to have a lie down.’ Evie’s face was closed over; she’d opened up a bit and now she was firmly locked up again. ‘Give us a shout when you see the next village or town or wherever. We need food and diesel probably. And we should wait up for Shannon, I guess. We don’t want to get too far ahead. Safer to stick together.’

Mia watched Evie disappear into the dark cabin. She saw the thin curls of cigarette smoke hanging in the air where she’d been. The boat would stink of it. She hated that. It made her anxious too, thinking of Evie smoking on the bed, dropping ash. After a few drinks, she was less careful.

Evie didn’t seem to like the way Shannon hung out with Joe. Perhaps she was jealous? What she said was that it ‘wasn’t good for Shannon’. She treated Shannon a bit like a mother might. Some mothers might, Mia corrected herself. Because mothers weren’t all the same, were they?

But what if it was really the other way round? If it was Shannon keeping an eye on Evie? Evie who’d lost the baby?

Evie’s bad mood persisted. She’d finished the cans of cider and beer and smoked her way through her cigarettes, and they still hadn’t got to any town or even a pub. Mia carried on steering the boat, even though her arms ached and she longed to lie down.

Evie sat in the open doorway and picked at Mia, finding fault with everything.

‘Why haven’t you talked to your mum then?… What are you going to do when you get there?’

Mia was silent, biting back tears.

‘What about your school work then?’ Evie started up again.

‘I dunno. I’m not thinking about that now.’

‘No, but you should. You don’t want to end up like me, do you?’

‘Why not? You said yourself you’ve got everything you want – your boat, friends.’

‘That’s not what I said. I said it was better than it was. In any case, we wouldn’t have the boat if it weren’t for Shannon’s brother. He bought it. He’s loaded. He’s an accountant or something. Not that she ever sees him. You should get your exams. Once we get you to Bristol. Get a job, money. Look after your kid. Or will your dad keep on bailing you out?’

Mia flushed and then shrugged. ‘I want to be able to manage myself.’

‘Well, you won’t get a decent job without your exams, will you?’

‘I can go to college later, can’t I? I don’t want to think about it now. I thought you were on my side!’ Mia turned away angrily.

‘Watch the boat! Idiot!’ Evie jumped up to grab the tiller as the boat juddered towards the bank. Mia cowered, crouched on the tiny deck space. For a moment she hated Evie, and the boat.

‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You have to keep your mind on the boat if you’re steering. Grow up, Mia. Start taking responsibility for something.’

‘Shut up! You’ve no right.’

‘No? Why not? You’re on my boat, eating my food, wearing my clothes. I’m doing you one huge favour, remember?’

‘I didn’t ask you to, you suggested it!’ Mia’s eyes brimmed with hot tears. She didn’t have to put up with this! But the boat was tiny – and surrounded by water – and there was nowhere else to be, nothing but fields and trees and hills as far as the eye could see. Nowhere to run. She was trapped. Her head ached and her throat stung with tears she wouldn’t let out.

Evie seemed to pull herself together. She took back the helm of the boat and steered competently towards the bridge ahead, slowed the engine, then increased speed slightly once they were through.

Mia pushed past her into the cabin and lay on the unmade bed. It stank of stale cigarettes, beer, sweat. She felt sick. Disgusted. She cried into the pillow until her eyes were sore and red. The boat chugged on, slowly, steadily taking her further away from everything she knew. Too far now. No going back.

Evie acted as if nothing had happened. Much later, she called down to Mia to make tea. Mia surprised herself by getting on with it. Doing as she was told. There wasn’t any other option really.

When she carried the mug of tea out to Evie, Evie smiled and said softly, ‘I am on your side, Mia. That’s the whole point. I want to help you. You and your baby.’

Thinking about it afterwards, there was something, Mia thought, not quite right. Something slightly menacing in the softly spoken words. I want to help you. You and your baby. It niggled at her.

Mia pulled the covers over the couch where she’d been dozing and looked through her small rucksack of things. She put the notebook down on the couch, then fished out her purse. Only about one pound fifty left; it was surprising how much food cost, and fuel. And the cans of beer, for Evie, and cigarettes. Mia couldn’t really say no when she asked. Evie was sharing her home, giving up her time, making the whole journey for Mia. She fingered the small gold key in her purse. Her front door key, although she wouldn’t be needing it now, would she? I’ve left for good. I didn’t really mean to, but somehow it just happened. Dad would say that’s how she did everything. Drifting. You never think about the consequences, do you?

There was no key for the Dragonfly.

‘We don’t lock the boat,’ Evie had said. ‘There’s nothing to steal anyway. It’s much better not to lock doors. Then there’s nothing to batter down.’

‘But aren’t you scared? On your own at night?’ Mia asked.

‘Of what? There’s nothing can happen that hasn’t already.’

Mia went cold right through when Evie said that. Her own worst imaginings seemed bad enough, but she sensed there were more things Evie wouldn’t tell her, things she couldn’t even imagine. It made her frightened. The darkness in Evie, alongside the kindness. What happened if the balance tipped?

Why was she helping Mia? What was it she really wanted from her? A sudden dart of fear shot in and lodged itself deep under her ribs. It wouldn’t go.

Now the boat bobbed against the bank while Evie tied the ropes on to the stake in the grass bank. She had spotted a stack of logs in the woodland running alongside the canal.

‘Perfect. Dry firewood. For free.’

‘But they look like they belong to someone. They’re all stacked up properly under a shelter, Evie.’

‘Well, there’s plenty to go round. No one here now. We’ll take what we need for the stove. They won’t miss them. Anyway, you can’t own trees and woods. Common ground, common property.’

Mia thought of herself at eleven, nicking sweets at the corner shop. Fourteen, stashing cans of lager under her school jumper in the off-licence while the others distracted the girl at the counter. It wasn’t her fault she never had any money. It was just for fun. Just a dare. Not really stealing, was it? So what was different about this?

‘Come on, Mia. If we stock up on wood we won’t have to spend so much on coal.’

Mia helped Evie carry armloads of logs on to the path. They were too big for the stove, and had to be chopped and split with the axe into smaller pieces. Mia and Evie took turns. The axe handle made her hands sting and blister. Her shoulders ached. It grew colder as the afternoon wore on, and Mia got slower and weaker. In the end, Evie took over all the chopping and Mia just stood around, feeling useless again. She tried to think of how else she could help.

‘I can – well, probably – get some more money out in a day or so.’ Mia bit her lip anxiously. ‘Once Dad’s got my card. I asked him, you know, to put some in my account. The child-benefit money, that’s for me, so it’s my money really.’

Evie laughed, scornful. ‘Thought you wanted to manage on your own? Anyway, if you keep writing to him he’ll work out where you are, won’t he? He’ll see the postmarks all joined together, a string of places along the canal as clear as a map, stupid. He’ll be coming after you, take you back home. Or is that what you want?’ She glared at Mia. ‘Don’t you want to make a go of this? Be free for once and do what you want?’

That’s what she had done. But what if it wasn’t the right thing for Mia? It had been her dad who’d looked after her all those years, not her mum. Already she saw him a bit differently, just twelve days away from him. And the horrible letter from Mum still lay crumpled in her bag. She still hadn’t told Evie what it said.

‘It’s cold enough for frost,’ Evie announced.

They made a fire on the bank, heaping up logs to make a huge blaze of flames. Their pale faces glowed in the orange light. Witch faces, Mia thought. Hollow eyes, dark spaces. The magic of the fire was irresistible; they danced round it, whooping into the darkness and silence that lay just outside the circle of light. Then, as it died down, they arranged logs around it to sit on and warmed themselves, front first, turning round every so often to warm their backs. Mia stopped worrying whether anyone would see the fire and come and find them. There was no one for miles. The sky was black, deep velvet pinned with stars. Frost was already beginning to form, a silver edging to dead leaves, grasses, puddles along the towpath. The boat deck too, had a white shadow of ice.

‘In winter, when it’s really cold for days on end, the canal freezes over. You can get stuck for days.’ Evie stirred the white ashes in the fire. ‘We’ll stoke up the stove in the cabin when this has died down and get it properly warm for the night. We might as well moor here all night. Shannon and Joe will probably be here by morning.’

‘They won’t be travelling in the dark surely?’

‘No. But we’ve been going really slowly, and they’ll probably get up earlier than us tomorrow and try and catch up.’

‘What if she’s not coming after all?’

Evie snapped at Mia. ‘Course she is. Where else is she going to go? Joe won’t want her. Not for long.’

Mia didn’t risk an answer. She was exhausted after the afternoon on the canal bank. No more arguments, she thought. Please. She’d go to bed early. There was nothing to do anyway, except talk to Evie or read, and she didn’t feel like doing either. She dozed in the light from the stove for a while. Every so often Evie opened the glass front and shoved in more logs. The cabin was hot at last; the sweet smell of wood smoke mixed with the oils Evie burned over a small candle flame. Mia turned over on her side and shut her eyes. She could hear the spit and crackle of logs shifting, and the thin rasp of pages being turned as Evie read her book, and then she slept.

*

Mia woke, sweating and struggling. She tugged at the blankets, which had somehow wound round her body as she tossed and turned in sleep, binding her too tight. The heat was unbearable. She could feel beads of sweat around her hairline and neck. She was still half in her dream – a horrible, torturing nightmare, where Evie, bigger and more frightening than in real life, held Mia prisoner on the boat so that she could steal her baby and give it to Shannon. In the dream she was clutching at the baby all bundled up in blankets and they were pulling it away from her, tugging at the blankets so hard they pulled them right out of her arms and the bundle unrolled and there was suddenly nothing, no baby there – and then the three of them were leaning over the edge of the boat, their hands scrabbling in the green water and the tangled weeds, searching for a baby turned fish.

Mia untangled herself and sat up. She placed one hand on her chest, felt the birdwing flapping frantically there. Too real. In the sweaty darkness it seemed all too possible that Evie and Shannon had planned this all along, and she had been too stupid, too afraid to see what was happening.

Across the cabin, Evie slept and snored, oblivious. She looked innocent enough, but what could you ever tell by looking?

Mia must have gone back to sleep because the next time she woke to find herself coughing. She was still way too hot, even though she’d pushed the covers off her body. This time though there was something seriously wrong; she could sense it. Mia was wide awake now, not dozy like she’d been before. The dark was different, not black but fogged and blurred and the smell she knew at once was of smoke – not the sweet wood-smoke smell, but the sour, choking poison of smouldering cloth, chair-stuffing, foam rubber.

‘Evie? Evie! Something’s burning. Quick! Wake up!’