17

Here is a way time and stories work strange: I told the story of Blue’s first Scattering, and naming her, and the world before she came, because in one way that is the story of the end of the things I knew and the world and Freya and me and all the Family, and happened over the years, slowly. But in another way, it happened in one small turn, not even the time between Solstices, only seven sleeps, maybe less. It started with the front doorbell ringing.

The Family was in the ballroom, sewing, writing in notebooks, mixing paints. I sat under Freya as she combed through my hair, looking for lice. We were quiet except for the tearful whispers between Pet and Egg, in the last hours of a row.

The sound soared up into the staircase. I’d never heard it before. We went to look. The bell above the front door was rusty and full of cobwebs. It moved again, cascading dust.

—Go on then, open it, Freya said behind me, chewing her nails.

—Richard wouldn’t ring, I told her.

—I know that, she said. —So open it then!

In the glass around the door, a dark shadow twitched. I felt sudden fear, like the Bad had made itself into a person, that could come and ring the bell like that, and when I opened the door it would eat us all. I felt Toby on the stairs behind me. I opened the door.

Two of them. Both women, with ironed hair cut in jagged shapes. One was in a suit and her nice shoes were caked in mud and grass. The other wore sandals and a dress with a jacket over it. Her toenails were painted red.

—Hel-lo, red toenails said.

She held up a card on a string around her neck.

—I’m Mary. This is my colleague Pam.

Muddy shoes Pam nodded.

—We’re from Social Services, Pam said. —May we come in?

Long seconds in which they looked me up and down, and glanced at each other. I heard the group move forward and Freya pulled at my skirt, awkwardly dragging me out of the way. Instead of going to Toby’s side I curled into Dylan’s waist. He frowned down at me. Everyone was quiet, listening. The sing-song hellos again. Freya’s voice very low. An outsider name, is he …? Procedures are such that … So just a visit, to see how you’re all getting on … Then Freya’s back straightened, she seemed to have made a decision, and when she stepped back she had put on a mask I hadn’t seen for a long time, eyebrows arched up, girlish laugh hovering at the corners of her mouth.

—Of course. We’re just getting ready for a summer party, so it’s all a bit of a mess—

—Not at all, said the suit and the dress. —Lovely, lovely. And the children, are …?

—Come through to the kitchen. Have some tea.

—Actually, we should have a look around first, if we may, and then—

—It’s this way.

The group herded them into the kitchen, and they took out folders and notebooks.

—So. Who is in charge here?

—That’s me, Freya said.

—And the owner. He’s no longer residing here?

—He’s … away.

—Do you know when he’ll be back?

A smile from Freya. The women blinked around the kitchen, at the pans flashing in the light and the beautiful oak beams, and all of us gathered around the doorway.

I thought of the fish we used to watch in the fountain. That somehow they knew how to swim together, talked to each other, This way, now this way. The shoal. That’s how we were, when real outsiders came, not like Kai, but to pry us open like nuts. In the kitchen doorway we were hanging off each other, smiling carefully, our hearts beating fast together and wondering what was going on and what was Freya going to do and they are in suits and suits are dangerous, and we moved together, a lean forward, sideways, to catch the conversation.

—So, could we talk alone for a moment?

Freya turned to us and the shoal spilled out back into the hallway. Dylan pulled at my hair.

—Where’s Blue? he mouthed.

I shrugged. We crept around the door. I knew it was serious, but still I loved the game of it, everyone straining to keep quiet, moving slow and awkward now, trying to stop the floor from creaking.

From the kitchen, new names, and Freya’s voice soft and low. Then the shadows lengthened towards the beads in the doorway and we made a giggling scramble back.

—Hello there, nice shoes says to me. —You must be Green.

I looked to Freya to tell me what to do, but she whispered to Dylan, her hair hiding their faces, so I smiled and looked at the floor.

They haunted the whole house, checking cupboards, asking questions. Home schooled? Oh, yes. May we see … Old books provided, Pet talking in a new voice, vowels stretched out like a dog in the sun. Kai dozed in the kitchen, and the women smiled, glanced at notebooks, moved on. Everyone smiling and nodding at each other, the words just sounds and the smiling-nodding the real language. I knew how to speak it: keep your mouth shut, smile and nod. We clustered behind them as they went all over the house —Where do the children sleep? — up to the attic —Ah yes. Is there heating? —Ah-yes-nod-and-smile. Through the studios and into the gardens.

Then we were on the back lawns, and the women were putting files back into their briefcases. Suit swung lightly on her heels.

—So. There’s just the question of …

She riffled through her notes. Blushed.

—Um, sorry … we don’t have a name. The child in question is understood to be living here … it must be the younger home-schooled girl?

Her plastic pen was chewed at the edges. I liked her for that. I chewed things too, and got into trouble with Freya for it, ruining the brushes.

—Blue, I supplied, and Freya massaged my shoulders with a strong grip.

—Blue, she repeated, and made a note. —Green and Blue. I see. That’s, nice.

—I named her, I said. —It’s after—

—And where is she?

Just like that her dot appeared near the copse, shaking her jumper over her shoulders, now the sun had gone in, so I pointed. We twisted to watch her come. People cleared their throats, shifted on their feet. I saw Blue was in trouble, which wasn’t fair, so I said, —It’s okay, we always go out on the moor. Red toenails nodded, unsmiling. Behind me, Toby took my hand, and whispered in my ear, Listen, but everyone turned to us then, the air too quiet, the whisper too loud, and he stopped.

Blue was slow and she kept stopping to twirl; she still did that, I’d stopped it ages ago, but she loved to make herself dizzy. She saw us and waved, then as she came closer she felt the stillness and the quiet, and she must have seen the strangers, and Freya’s hands on my shoulders. She drew her hands into herself, avoided us, looked over our heads at the house. I felt for her. By the time she drew up to us she was scarlet, and stood with her arms in a knot over her stomach. The sleeves of the jumper twisted in her fingers.

—Hello, red toenails said. —You must be Blue.

I tried to catch her eye, but she was looking behind me, to Toby. She gave a tiny nod.

—Nothing to worry about. Your mum— she turned to Freya, and in the second before she turned back Blue’s face fluttered confusion —says it’s okay if we have a chat. Your guardian, I mean, she said, as sandals pointed at the notes. —Okay? she chirped.

The floor sunbeams had travelled far before we got her back. They’d taken her to the kitchen, and we went into the ballroom, sat together on cushions. I ached for arms but I didn’t know if they were Freya’s or Toby’s I needed, so I sat with my own around my knees, cold in the late afternoon weak sun, murmuring with the others.

—Must be something. Her mother? Ellen said.

Freya shook her head.

—Maybe she contacted them, Pet said.

—Who? Egg said.

—Blue. Maybe, maybe she wants to leave, and she didn’t—

—No way, I said. —No.

Then I thought about her secret in the attic and my own secret seemed thin and pale next to hers, a burning thing that had brought outsiders here. The outside man, Blue’s friend, pushing out the edges of the world, so the hugeness of it threatened to suck us out and throw us to far away places. Beside me, Toby was sitting back on his hands, like he was ready to run, and I felt sick, that we’d invited the outside in with our stupid game.

Ellen was the least worried. —Happens all the time, she said. —They just want to check there’s food in the cupboards and stuff, beds, you know. Mine used to get checked out every so often, she said. —Do they know you, from before?

—A bit, Freya said. —Then when … she nodded at me.

—Just to update their records, then. Don’t worry about it, Ellen said.

But Freya was staring through me as though she was thinking about something else.

—All they need to do is see her arms bare, she said, and the grown all dropped — eyes, hands, heads, as though strings holding them had been cut.

When they brought her back in, Blue was pale as I’d ever seen her. She held the woman’s hand, and for a second I thought, Oh my god, they’re right, she is going to become a Leaver, this is it, I’m never going to see her again, just like that, but then she let go, and came to crouch at the edge of the group.

Freya and Dylan led the women to the front door; more low voices, and the slam-shudder of the door sealing us in. I whispered to Blue, —What is it? But she shook her head, staring at the floor. For a long time we stayed listening as the sounds of a car faded. I saw from the ballroom window the huge front gates opening and closing. They would have rust on their hands.

Freya stood in the doorway. —Meeting, she said. —Now.

Blue’s secret was pulled out and flapped around all of us. Freya’s voice got high and soft, a long-ago voice, from the time we would snuggle under her arms, wrapped in a blanket.

—I have a new story, Freya said. —Once, a girl who had everything she could ever possibly want, who was loved and cared for by good people, and didn’t have to live in the city or go to school, decided she would make a new friend, a secret friend, on the moor. An outside person. An adult man.

Freya left this hanging, looking over Blue’s head while Blue tried to catch her eye, tears pooling on her cheeks.

—After a while this new friend starts to ask lots of questions, and the little girl tells him all about her happy life. But she doesn’t know how to tell things as they really are. Instead of explaining how happy and free she is, and how much she is loved, she says that sometimes she is cold, and sometimes she is hungry, and sometimes she wants to wash but there is no water. And when her new friend asks her about school, she doesn’t tell him that she is learning about the world in a way he can never understand; she knows what the ley line he is standing on means, which is more than he does, and that her friends at home are trying to teach her the best lesson, which is how to be content. Instead she says, I don’t go to school, and I can’t read, and I can’t write, and because she is a stupid, thoughtless little girl, she doesn’t say anything else.

Blue quieter and quieter, even her breathing a silent shallow thing. A space forming around her like she had a disease.

—So, because the outside man doesn’t understand, he decides to make some phone calls. So he calls up these people in suits, and they are so happy, because they have wanted to come and trample all over Foxlowe forever, and ask questions.

Freya looked at Blue then, smiling. —The end, she said.

A long quiet came, and I thought I might inch closer to Blue, or catch her little finger, so she wasn’t so alone, but everyone was so still that I didn’t dare.

—But what did they say? said Pet, picking paint from his nails.

—We’ll never get rid of them now, said Dylan. —She’ll be, what’s it called, she’ll be on file, or whatever, they’ll keep checking.

—I said I was happy, said Blue, her voice steady. —I lied to them, I said I was happy. She looked right into Freya’s face. —So stop making things up, she said.

I kept quiet when the yelling began. Blue put her head down so when the tears came they dripped onto her knees. I thought about the secret Kai had given me, and wished I had passed it on to her like a story, wanted to ask her if she remembered the nameless trees. She was running her fingers over her scarred arms as Freya circled around us, her voice rising over the group at times, other times sinking beneath other attacks, throwing in agreements. Freya came to stand behind me and I felt the sharp edge of her boot in my thigh.

—It was stupid, Blue, I mumbled. Then I said it louder and louder until Freya moved on.

When the shouting died down, Freya hugged a few of us who were trembling or crying, shushed us and smoothed damp cheeks, whispered things like, There now, it’s horrible, isn’t it? It’s all right now. Blue was hunched now, her nose almost touching her crossed legs. Freya went to her and lifted her chin.

—So, she said.

Blue held her eye.

—We were always headed here, Freya said. —You’ve always been like an outsider, Blue.

Blue stayed silent. From where I sat I could see her fingers splayed out on the floor, red and veined like autumn leaves.

—Do you wish to become a Leaver? Freya asked.

Someone breathed in sharply, Toby or Pet, but no one moved.

Blue was quiet for a long time, Freya’s finger under her chin. I could hear my heart in my ears, and felt somewhere behind me Toby radiating panic too.

—No, she said.

Freya waited a beat before she replied, so I knew she was surprised.

—Right then, she said. —Right. But what shall we do with you now, since you broke our rules so entirely? What should we make of this? Freya turned to us. —Is it the Bad, putting words in her mouth she speaks to outsiders, pulling her out onto the moor alone? What should we do?

—She’s always been like this, Ellen said, fondly. —Remember when she was little, she just loved running around, exploring. She’s just taken it too far. We need to explain to her again.

The Family took up this thread guiltily, steering us away to a kinder place, away from the sharp drop of the question of our baby, our youngest little sister, becoming a Leaver. We were more indulgent of Blue than was normal, and spoke about how different it was for her, because she didn’t know about the world, and we should only try to make her understand, so that she didn’t misstep again, and when Freya pointed out that I, Green, was even more of a born Foxlowe girl, but I was good, and I knew how to behave, I could only say, —Blue doesn’t have the Bad, she just doesn’t. And then the group began to grumble about hunger, and talk turned to food. Freya stepped over Blue and gave her a look that said she hadn’t done with her yet, and there would be a Spike Walk for her later, and then gave her a nod to dismiss her.

Blue left, slowly, and I thought, she’ll look back, and then she’ll go to Freya and cry and Freya will say All right, you’ve learned your lesson, but she didn’t look back, she walked slow and straight-backed and closed the ballroom door behind her with a thud.

I counted for her. Twenty-nine steps to the first landing. She’d go to the attic and lie on the bed. She didn’t have anywhere else to go. I could go up after her, lie with her, stroke her hair and tell her it would be all right, but I was afraid of her hurt, the row we would have, Why did you say, why didn’t you say? So I stayed on the floor playing with the frayed ends of my jeans.

The old chipped bath full of moonshine was hauled in; we dipped broken crockery into it and drank in gulps, burning our throats. Ellen went to the kitchen and brought back thick slabs of bread filled with fried eggs that burst yolk onto our fingers. We plunged into one of those long nights that happened around the Solstices, the type we lost ourselves in, when we loved each other and our home hard. We tried to make Blue, sad and alone upstairs, fade a little in our minds. The light seemed to weaken fast, and I stopped counting the clock strikes. I lay for a while with my head in Freya’s lap, sipping the moonshine from her mug. —Good, isn’t it? she said, then shifted so my head hit the floor with a crack, and the drink caught in my throat. —You can help me with Blue later, she added softly as she drifted away.

I propped myself up against the wall, watched my family. Dylan was at the head of a small circle, his arm around Ellen, lighting up and laughing. His beard glowed briefly blue with his lighter flame. Egg lay on one of the battered old sofas in the centre of the room, his legs crossed up in the air. He laughed at something Pet said, holding his stomach. Freya stalked through everyone, touching shoulders and bestowing smiles and nods. Kai had wandered in, and sat cross-legged with his back against the wall, just staring into his hands. I waved, but he didn’t catch it. Toby was gone, probably to soothe Blue and wipe her wet cheeks with his sleeve. I drank more. Someone brought a guitar and the room hummed, dancing began. Foxlowe held us warm and slipping with drink and sweat. Dylan lifted Freya up and started to spin her around; I slipped away as her laugh rang around the walls.

Music, shrieking, laughing, all sealed away behind the closed ballroom door. The setting sun, an almost-Solstice sun, made the wooden walls and the banisters warm to the touch and glow golden. I resisted the urge to stop on the middle landing, only wiggled my toes in the blue light as though I’d dipped them in the water of the fountain. I’d go to Blue, and we’d talk it through and then she could start healing things with Freya. She’d have to do a Spike Walk, when it was late and the others were drunk and could pretend they didn’t see or hear, or remember the next morning; we still had her, though, she was still here, and the Solstice was coming, to heal all things.

At Foxlowe voices were absorbed into the walls, swallowed by the scale of the rooms. We all learned how to recognise a voice pitched for secrets. We knew to hide outside the door, tilt an ear, like the dogs, how to breathe silently; in winter, to cover the clouds of our breath with our collars. So I stopped on the upper landing, crouched by the wooden finial, when I heard Blue and Toby’s voices, heard the tears in them, knew this was something secret and real.

—No, no, shhh. It’s okay, I know, Toby was saying.

—What if we never get her to come? Blue said.

A silence in which Toby might have shrugged, or looked at the floor. —Or she started crying, because—

—Hey, hey. So soft, he spoke to her. A voice I knew from the goats’ shed. —She’ll come to it, I know she will. We can’t tell her right out, we have to be so careful with her. She’ll tell Freya, that’s just how it is, we can’t trust her. It’s working, the story, I know it is, she keeps adding details. I know she’ll come to it by herself. It won’t be long, I promise.

I edged into the shadowy space behind the door, looked through the gap where the cobwebbed hinges rusted. She was in his arms. He kissed her forehead, said, —If it comes to it, we’ll go without her.

Freya’s hand in mine was damp with sweat, the familiar calluses where she painted and gardened ran under my thumb. She smiled down at me while I interlaced our fingers. Behind us the Family danced, slipping in the spilled wine and crashing into each other, laughing with tears leaking down their cheeks.

—What is it? Freya said.

I gripped her hand tighter, pulled her away to the stairs. She caught my silence and followed me quietly. Somewhere underneath the rage that surged in me like boiling water I felt the strangeness of leading Freya, making her wait.

We sat on the middle step. I heard Blue and Toby moving above us. Freya pulled me to her, and poured her dark hair around us like a curtain. She kissed my nose, sharp wine breath, and pressed my forehead to hers.

—I have to tell you something, I said. —A story. A secret.

I remembered Freya telling me I could have no secrets from her, that she could read the inside of my heart. I watched her, seeing if it was true. An outsider would never have seen how shock played on her face. Her eyes were a steady glare. She held a breath. Her hands worked over mine, grasped, clutched, bent back my fingers.

I took a breath. All the little things I had ever done to hurt Blue — they all led here. I told Freya everything.