Page 2 of The Absence of You
“Niall? Are you home?” A sharp knock on the door and my mum’s muffled voice startles him, causing him to loosen his grip on my shoulder. Without even thinking about whether it’s a wise decision, I yell out,
“Mum!” My voice is strained, but I know she’s heard me when she hammers on the door.
“Dahlia? Niall! Open this door!”
“Fucking bitch!” He hisses at me, as he drags me up off the floor by my hair and pushes me to the side. My mum is still banging on the door, and I know if she carries on, she’ll have the attention of half the residents. Niall must realise it, too. He’s out of prison on parole. He’s always on parole. Surely he’s weighing up his options here and realising he’s going to have to open the door eventually?
He turns and yanks it open. My mum’s gaze swings between us before eventually settling on my neck. I see in her eyes the moment it registers with her what she’s just walked in on.
Chapter Two
DAHLIA
Two weeks later, I board the 9:42am train from Liverpool Lime Street to Euston, London. I find a seat and slide over so I’m next to the window, dumping my battered canvas hold-all on the seat next to me, in the hope it will discourage anyone from sitting next to me. Normally I wouldn’t care, but today I’m not sure I can muster up the energy to make polite conversation.
I’ve lost count of the times I’d made this journey growing up. Every school holiday, my mum and I would make the three-hour trip to stay with my grandmother in Sussex. It might have only taken a few hours to get there, but it always felt like it was a world away from our housing estate. As each school term finished, we’d pack a bag, and I’d look forward to the journey. The excitement of escaping the reality of my everyday life to spend the school holidays down there never wore off. Mum would take me to the library just before we left, so I had something to read to pass the time, but I usually just watched the view from the window, noting how it became progressively greener the further south we travelled.
At least that’s how I remember it. The last time I’d been there, I was fourteen, and I had no idea it would be just over three years before I’d visit again. As much as I wish the incident two weeks ago had never happened, that it resulted in me being able to return here was the only silver lining in this otherwise fucked up situation.
I glance around the carriage. The direct train to the capital is usually a popular route, but it’s quiet this morning. There are only a couple of people in the carriage, and most of them are seated at the other end. As a child, my mum had always come with me, but once I turned twelve, I’d been trusted to make the journey alone. Mum would drop me at the station and stay behind so she could work, and my grandmother would meet me at the other end. Dee, as she’d insisted I call her for as long as I can remember, is my only living grandparent, and I loved spending the holidays with her. In fact, other than my mum, Dee is all I have in the way of family. My mum’s parents passed away years before I was born, and Dee is my grandmother on my dad’s side. And my dad, he didn’t even stick around long enough to meet me.
But today is different. I’m not just travelling down for the school holidays; I’m going to stay with Dee while I finish my final year at school, and my mum completes a six-month residential rehab programme.
Technically, I’m old enough to stay at the flat on my own, but despite the obvious bruising to my neck, the police weren’t interested in pressing charges against Niall. Lack of evidence, apparently. And there was no way I was living across the corridor from him for a minute longer. It didn’t take a genius to realise my mum had been in denial about how bad her alcohol problem was. Over the years I’d asked her, begged her even, to get help. She’d claimed she had it under control. A few months back, she’d got her final warning at work and been sacked, but still, that hadn’t been enough motivation to give up. I knew we’d barely been surviving on her benefits and my part-time job wages, but she said we’d be okay. And I suppose we had been. Until she’d ended up borrowing that money off Niall with no means to pay it back.
I pull my jacket tightly around me, tugging up the hood. The khaki green military style jacket has seen better days, but it’s my favourite. It was my dad’s, so it’s way too big for me. It’s the only thing I have of his, and although he left my mum when she was pregnant with me, I can’t bear to get rid of it. I pull the long sleeves down over my hands. It isn’t particularly cold for September, but I feel like I can’t get warm.
A few minutes later, the train pulls out of the station. Over the tannoy the booming voice of the train driver announces our expected arrival time. I pull out my phone and send a quick message to Dee to let her know I’m on my way, and then dig into my bag to find the glossy brochure for Heathley Academy I received in the post a few days ago.
Heathley Academy is an independent, co-educational, boarding and day provision for 5-18 year-olds.
The Academy has been providing a first-class educational experience for students for over 150 years.
As reflected in our Academy motto, we encourage our pupils to be the best they can be, not only for themselves, but also to benefit the wider community once they graduate.
‘Non nobis solum nati sumus’
Not for ourselves alone are we born
It’s a stark contrast to the school I’m leaving behind. Like most of the teenagers in my town, I’d attended our closest school, and then the sixth form at Mallaby High. Over a thousand of us from the neighbouring housing estates went there. The dreamers among us hoped to come away with enough qualifications to make it to university and hopefully change our destiny. Some hoped to get a job after graduation, but the majority were just hoping to get out in one piece. As far as I know, Mallaby High doesn’t have a Latin motto but if it did, it sure as shit wouldn’t be about community spirit.
Aside from my mum, there’s not much I’ll miss about my old life, especially not Mallaby High. If the circumstances were different, the chance of an education at a place like Heathley Academy would be a dream come true, but when I’d daydreamed about a different life, I never wanted to get my wish like this.
My mum will only be in rehab for six months, but the plan is for me to do the rest of the year here so I can concentrate on my exams. I have ten months left at school before I graduate, but Heathley Academy is unusual as it has a private university that shares the campus. Apparently lots of the students attend that university afterwards, so Dee said if it goes well, I could apply to carry on studying there. I’m not sure what that would mean for Mum, but I’m hoping once she’s out of rehab, she can join me, and we can start a new life here, leaving behind the flat and any memories of what we endured there.
A couple of hours later, the train pulls into Euston Station. While the train itself had been quiet, the station is not. With my bag slung over my shoulder, I push my way through the bustling crowded platform, heading towards the north exit of the station. Dee told me she wasn’t driving into the city much these days, so she’d arranged a car to pick me up. Looking around, I spot an older guy in a dark suit holding a card with Dahlia Winters written on it in large letters. After introducing myself, he leads me over to where a sleek, silver Volvo is parked. The idea of getting in a chauffeur-driven car is a little out of my comfort zone, but as I don’t have enough money for a bus fare, I gratefully climb into the back seat as he holds the door open for me.
I didn’t realise I was so tired, but I must have dozed off during the hour drive, because the next thing I know, the car is slowing down as we pull into a long, winding drive.
“Here we are, Miss,” announces the driver. And it’s just as I remembered it. The pebbled driveway stretches out in front of us, flanked by an overgrown tennis court to the right and a similar driveway to the left. The two driveways run alongside each other before veering away in a circular shape. They surround a huge weeping willow tree separating Dee’s house on the right, from the neighbour’s house on the left. The property is not particularly big for this part of the country but compared to most of the houses in the city where I’d grown up, it’s huge. The traditional style English country house was built in a mock Tudor style, with a thatched roof and dark beams. There are large gardens around it, complete with a small orchard and huge lawns. Other than the immediate neighbour, it’s surrounded by open fields and fresh air, and it’s idyllic. The most noticeable difference between here and home, however, is the quiet. There’s no traffic noise, just the sound of birds tweeting for god’s sake. I’d forgotten how the quiet took a bit of getting used to.
The driver stops the car near to the house and jumps out to open my door. As I climb out, the fresh air greets me, and it’s a welcome change to the smoggy air I’m so used to.
“Please go ahead, your grandmother is expecting you. I’ll bring in your bag.”
I mumble my thanks and head up the couple of steps to the front door. As I approach the large, dark oak door, it swings open, and my heart constricts when I see Dee standing there. I have missed this woman so much.
“Oh my beautiful girl, you’re all grown up!” Dee exclaims as she reaches up and squeezes my cheeks like I’m still six years old. Her eyes twinkle as she casts them over me. I’m barely five foot five, but I tower over her now. It’s been years since I’ve seen her, so of course she is going to have aged, but I don’t remember her being this small, or the wrinkles on her face being so pronounced that her skin looks almost too big for her body. Her snow-white hair is pulled into a bun like she used to wear it, her weathered voice still has the same soft southern lilt, and it’s like no time at all has passed.
