Page 19 of The Absence of You
But then the Christmas holidays came, and Mum was drinking more than ever. So I made another excuse. And so it went on. When I realised it was a long term thing, I could have contacted Grayson and told him the truth then. But by then I had stopped myself thinking about Sussex. You’d think it would be impossible to do that, to hide things from yourself, but I’d already been doing it for a very long time.
From being tiny, I had loved visiting Dee. If I let myself truly think about it. I would have wanted that to be my life. Not just the holidays. I wanted it to be my permanent life, but I knew it couldn’t happen. And the only way I could go home after each holiday there and not hate my reality, was to compartmentalise the two things. It was something I never wanted my mum to know. I didn’t want her to feel bad. She was doing the best she could, so I just made out that I loved each part of my life equally. And when things started to get worse at home, I refused to spend my life in Liverpool dreaming of Sussex, because it would have made a bad situation even worse.
If I let myself think about exactly how much I missed Grayson, how much I missed Dee, how much I missed that life, I would have fallen apart. So instead, I just tried not to think about it at all. My defence was self-preservation, but in the process, I’d been pretty fucking selfish. It is no wonder he hates me.
And now I’m back here, I have no choice but to acknowledge it’s not the same, not without my best friend. Because it was always him that made this place feel like home. The one person in my life I could always rely on. I had been so busy trying to protect my heart that I didn’t spare a minute to consider his. And now he hates me. And I probably deserve it. No, I definitely deserve it.
I shove another mouthful of chocolate in my mouth. The sugar hit helped for all of three minutes, but three minutes was better than nothing. If I keep going like this, I’ll be selfish and fat.
My mum is in rehab because I wasn’t enough for her to stay sober. My dad is fuck knows where because I wasn’t enough for him to stay at all. The only real friend I’ve had hates me. And I don’t even want to begin to think about the ways I’ve let Dee down.
For the first time in a long time, I let those facts sink in. I let everything I’ve ignored for years settle in my consciousness.
By mid-afternoon, I’m genuinely worried about getting bedsores. I drag myself out of bed and head downstairs to make myself a fresh drink and something savoury to eat to offset the sugar I’ve consumed. There’s no sign of Dee, so I grab a few eggs and throw together a few bits to make an omelette. I plate it up and head into the sunroom to eat it there. Hopefully some sunlight will penetrate the glass enough to wake me up and shake me out of this funk I’m in.
I’m halfway into the room when I see Dee sitting in the rocking chair by the window. She’s sleeping, her mouth open, gently snoring. Despite the sun beaming through, it’s not particularly warm, so I pull the tartan blanket off the sofa and drape it over her knees. It’s easy to forget her age when she’s awake and busy rushing around, full of energy. Right now though, she looks every bit of her sixty odd years. I kiss her forehead gently and go back to the sofa to eat my omelette, just taking in the peace and quiet. A few minutes later, I hear a gentle buzz.
Looking around, I see Dee’s mobile on the small occasional table next to her. The vibrating increases, so I get up to silence it before it wakes her. No Caller ID flashes across the screen, so I answer it in case it’s the rehab centre calling about my mum.
“Hello. Deandra Boulton’s phone. Can I take a message please?”
“Hello, this is John Lamont from Lamont Legal Services. Please ask Mrs. Boulton to ring me back as a matter of urgency.” I consider waking her, but she looks peaceful, so I take his number and tell him she’ll call him back.
I’m reminded of the day I arrived and the call I heard her taking. I hope everything is okay. The thought of her dealing with legal matters on her own makes me feel sad. She really has had no family to rely on for the last few years, and that is down to me. I look at the name written on the piece of paper and pull out my new phone. Not sure Dee intended me to use it for this purpose and this is absolutely none of my business, I know that, but…I unlock my phone and google his name, anyway. I silently thank Dee for getting me a new phone when I moved down here. It’s nothing fancy but it quickly finds Lamont Legal Services, Specialists in Criminal Law. That isn’t a boring family law firm, that sounds serious. I’m just debating whether to ask her about it when I hear her stir. She lets out a small yawn before stretching and standing up, the blanket on her knee dropping to the floor.
“Oh Dahlia, you’re up. Are you okay? I was worried this morning when you didn’t come out of your room.”
“I’m good thanks, Dee, I just needed a quiet morning.” I force a smile. “While you were asleep, your phone rang. I took a message.”
“Thank you, sweetie. Who was it?”
“John Lamont.” As soon as she recognises the name, the colour drains from her face.
“John phoned? Did he… what did he say?” She looks nervous. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was worried about what he’d said to me.
“He asked if you could call him back urgently.” I hand her the note I jotted down and her phone, watching her expression. “That’s all he said.” She looks relieved as she smiles and thanks me before all but running from the sunroom. I pick up my empty plate and go into the kitchen to wash up, just as I see her car shoot off down the drive.
Well, that wasn’t weird at all.
Chapter Seventeen
DAHLIA
9.00am – 10.30am Physical Education Swimming (Compulsory unit)
Iscrew my schedule up and throw it into the back of my locker. Swimming is a prerequisite to graduating, and I’ve been avoiding thinking about it. When I’d first seen swimming on my planner, I’d asked admin if it was possible to swap, but apparently it’s a core module, so I’d have to do it at some point. I’m dreading it.
There was no pool at my old school, and it’s not the kind of thing the kids where I lived had much of an interest in. It was the sort of thing you’d do if you were lucky enough to go on holiday, and where I was from, those opportunities were few and far between. Down here though, most of the kids had grown up with pools in their homes and schools, and it’s only twenty minutes from the coast, so many of them surf too. It seems Heathley Sixth Form is determined every student will leave an all-rounder, and so, as admin had great delight in explaining yesterday, everyone had to meet the minimum standard to pass the course.
I head into the changing rooms and find a quiet corner to change into my swimsuit. Like the rest of the PE kit, it’s standard issue, so we all have the same one. It’s navy and modest. Something to be thankful for, I guess. Still, it doesn’t cover anywhere near as much of me as I’d like it to, so I wrap my large towel around me as tightly as I can. I don’t hate my figure, it’s okay, but I’m not super curvy like most of the other girls and I have nothing worth flaunting. Why the fuck I’m worrying about my figure, I don’t know. I have more pressing problems than that right now. In my distracted state, I hadn’t realised the rest of the changing room was now full. The other girls don’t have the same problem and are stripping off confidently, chattering away. I feel self-conscious standing around, and as I’m already changed, I may as well get this over with, so I head towards the door to the pool.
The air around the pool is humid, and the chlorine cloys at the back of my throat. I approach the pool. Erm, why the hell is there no shallow end? And why the hell does a small private academy need to have what appears to be an Olympic sized pool? A voice from behind startles me.
“Miss Winters?” I turn to see a female teacher behind me holding a clipboard. She’s short and muscular and her hair is pulled back into a severe bun. She looks like she’d easily be able to bench press me, and I decide on the spot it would not be a good idea to find out if that is true or not.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Coach Swanson. Your previous college doesn’t seem to have sent any details to us about your swimming ability. Can you jump in and do three laps for me so I can assess what level you’re at, please? Show me your front crawl, backstroke and butterfly. A lap of each will do.”
