Unspeakable Read Free Page B

On the other side, I charge down the main road, my feet whizzing as I swerve past a couple of donkeys.
    I see Mum before she sees me. She clicks down the pavement in a pair of ruby heels, an unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth, which gleams with coral lipstick. When she looks up, she whips the cigarette out and tries to hide it behind her back.
    I coast to a stop next to her. Mum’s hair looks limp, and her make-up is just a thin covering for the tiredness around her eyes. I pretend not to notice her guilty expression.
    ‘Hello, you.’ She gives me a weary sigh. I wonder if I should change my plans and go home with her. She looks knackered. ‘You off out again?’
    I shrug and point in the direction of home, as if to say: ‘I don’t have to.’
    She doesn’t get it, though. ‘You don’t know if you’re going out? You might be going that way?’
    I shrug again.
    Mum rustles a carrier bag. ‘I’ve got some bits here. I don’t think we have much else in.’ She frowns, as if she’s disappointed. It’ll be leftovers from the café: hard baguettes stuffed with sweaty cheese and wilting salad, or a couple of stale slices of lemon cake. I want to tell her it’s all right, I don’t care that it’s not proper food, but we both know that Grandpa would disapprove.
    ‘Well, I’ll see you at home then.’
    One of Mum’s hands is still behind her back. I point at it and raise my brows.
    ‘What?’ she says, widening her eyes in fake innocence.
    I make a grab for her arm, just as she’s about to flick the cigarette into some bushes behind her. She laughs and tries to twist away from me. ‘OK, OK! You caught me.’
    She waves the cigarette in my face. I giggle and try to snatch it from her, but she’s too fast. ‘Just one, Megan,’ she pleads. ‘I need one today. Some silly tart thought she saw mould on one of the sandwiches. I tried to tell her it was just a bit of flour, but she went off on one. Made a right scene.’
    I smile, then push off from the pavement.
    ‘Be back before dark!’ she yells as I fly downhill.
    I stop at the village green, where a small herd of cows has gathered. There’s a ripple of twitching tails and waggling ears as they try to dislodge flies. I take out Grandpa’s camera and frame a shot of a frisky new calf with its mother, a grand beech tree sweeping into the sky above them.
    Soon I’m pedalling along a road that cuts across the heath. I feel like I’ve barely been able to breathe until now. I gulp inlungfuls of air. I’m moving so fast the wind whips tears from my eyes and nips at my knuckles.
    I leave my bike in a car park off the main road, then set off down a trail. As I walk, I reach out to touch everything. I want to feel it all: the bristle of a gorse bush, the gentle tickle of leafy bracken, the scratch of tree bark. My limbs loosen and lengthen, my shoulders drop, and my heart rate slows.
    Twenty minutes later, I reach a small patch of woodland. A stream darts between the trees, filling the forest with its gentle laughter, and a squirrel spirals down a tree trunk like it’s a helter-skelter. I take a photo of the waning sun shooting spears of light through the leaves.
    I settle on a bridge, place the camera down and swing my feet over the edge. I reach into my pocket and draw out a notebook and a pen. After sucking on the lid for a few seconds, I begin to write.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Dear Hana,
    Today was the first day back at school. It was pretty rubbish. Sadie’s being an über-bitch at the moment. If there were an Olympic sport in bitchery, she’d be a champion. I wish I could’ve told her so. I know you wouldn’t have taken any crap from her.
    Jayne’s got this new haircut that makes her look like Prince Harry. I swear, if you could see it, you’d laugh your head off.
    What else? We’ve got a supply teacher for Maths. I can’t remember her name but she has rancid breath and you cansee her leg hairs poking through her tights. It’s gross, but still more