Paper Butterflies
Megan seems confused as she looks at Kathleen.
‘It’s her birthday, sweetie,’ she says. ‘Have a look at the cake. I made it myself,’ she smiles.
I step towards it. There’s a new tablecloth, and balloons tied to the chairs.
‘What do you say?’ Kathleen says.
‘Thank you,’ I reply.
‘Come on, let’s light these and take a photo.’
She holds a match to all ten candles. It’s my cake and it’s beautiful.
‘Blow them out and look at me and smile.’
I puff out my cheeks and my smile is real as I look at the candles and blow out the flames into little streaks of smoke.
‘Let’s tuck in, then.’
We all sit down.
‘There’s fizzy juice too.’ She smiles, pointing to my cup.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
‘Let’s start with the cake.’ She cuts a big slice and tips it on to the plate, then passes it to me. ‘Don’t wait for us.’
I hesitate with my fork, but it’s too tempting. Chocolate cream oozes out between the sponge. The taste makes the world feel better.
‘It’s a good one,’ Kathleen laughs as she eats a mouthful. And it is. Mouthful after mouthful is delicious, until my plate is empty.
Kathleen puts another slice on my plate. I look up at her and she nods at me. Maybe this is the day she changes. Maybe she’ll put her arms round me and say she really does love me and she’s sorry. I smile back. A little bit of the grit in my heart feels like it’s floating away.
I eat my cake, the chocolate filling my mouth. Megan stares at me, but I don’t care. Kathleen can love me too.
I run my fingers along the crumbs on my plate, smudging dropped bits of chocolate cream.
‘More?’ Kathleen asks.
I laugh slightly. ‘I need to leave space for a sandwich.’
‘But the cake isn’t finished.’ Just like that, the look is back. Her eyes burn into me.
She puts another slice on my plate. I look down at it. If I eat it, I’ll feel too sick to remember the special taste.
‘Eat it,’ she says. Megan looks at me. She has a glimmer of panic in her eyes.
I pick up the fork and push it into the cake. Slowly, I spoon every last bit into my mouth, until I’m sure I’ll be sick.
‘Have a drink,’ Kathleen says. I want liquid, but it’s too sweet.
‘Eat.’ There’s more chocolate cake on the plate in front of me.
‘I can’t,’ I whisper.
‘Eat,’ she says.
‘I’ll be sick.’
She’s beside me so quick that I jump back.
‘If you vomit, you’ll eat that too.’
I pick up the fork and force the cake into my mouth. I gag slightly on the sponge and I have to work hard to make it go down. My tummy is cramping – it doesn’t want it.
‘She’s disgusting, isn’t she?’ Kathleen says to Megan.
‘Yes,’ Megan agrees.
I don’t want to cry, but I can’t stop myself. I can feel the tears rolling uselessly down my cheeks.
I want to see my bike. I want my dad to come home and take me away from here.
The sweet smell sweeps through my nose. I gag again and am almost sick. The salt from my crying is in my mouth too.
‘More,’ I hear her say. My fork scrapes the plate and goes past my lips, again and again and again, until I have to stand up and run for the bathroom.
I won’t be sick, I can’t be sick. I lock the door before she can get to me and I curl up on the floor. Everything hurts. My head feels like it will crack open. My stomach is filled with a thousand burning bricks. My throat is sandpapered raw.
I lie on the floor and I cry and I cry.
I want my mom. I want her to come out of the water and come back to us. And my dad will love me enough and Kathleen would never exist.
There’s a tap at the door, so gentle.
‘June?’ It’s Kathleen’s voice trickling underneath it. ‘Happy birthday.’
My dad is keeping his promise. He has to get his bike from the back of the garage, but I don’t mind waiting. I’d wait all day if it means I can get on my bike.
Kathleen stands in the front doorway. She’s leaning on the frame, her arms crossed in front of her, a big smile on her face.
‘Do you need help, Brad?’ she calls out. He doesn’t reply. There’s clattering coming from the garage and I doubt he can hear her. She shrugs. ‘I guess not.’ She smiles at me.
But there’s something, just at the back of her eyes, that I can see. I look away. Out here, I’m safe. Just by being here, my dad protects me.
He appears from the garage. ‘Sorry, pumpkin. Took me ages to find the pump.’
‘That’s fine,’ I say. His front wheel looks a bit wonky.
‘Are you sure you’re all right on that?’ Kathleen asks.
‘It’s straight out of the showroom, this beauty,’ my dad says, slapping the frayed seat and laughing loud enough for the birds to hear. ‘Ready, June?’
‘Yup.’ I begin to put my foot on the pedal, when I see her out of the corner of my eye, coming closer.
‘No going too fast,’ Kathleen says. She hugs me and kisses the top of my head. ‘Look after each other.’
‘We will,’ my dad calls as he wobbles off down the road. I go after him quickly and I don’t look back.
My bicycle makes me free. The wind pushes against my cheeks and arms. My legs pedal round and round and round and I’m so happy I could fly.
‘You’re all mine,’ I whisper to my bike. The whirr of its wheels calls back to me. It loves me too.
The road disappears beneath my feet, taking me further away from her. I want to call to the clouds, shout out to the sky.
I watch my dad not far ahead. He’s hunched over, looking forward. He’s my dad and he gave me this bike and I love him love him love him.
His T-shirt moves slightly in the wind.
Today, I’ll tell him. Today, I’ll tell him everything.
He turns off to the left, towards the towpath. My heart squeezes cold and I want to stop.
‘Not this way,’ I say, but I’m not loud enough for him to hear.
It’s bumpy under our wheels. I can see the river in the distance, a thick line of black. I never admit to him how much I don’t like coming here.
He looks back briefly and tries to put his thumb up, but it makes him wobble, so he carries on looking straight ahead.
The water is here and my dad follows the path, so that the river runs along the side of us. I won’t look at it. I won’t hear it. I’ll see only his wheels going round and round. If I go slightly to the side, I can see the spokes spinning so fast that they almost disappear.
I know we’re not far.
I see it in the distance and suddenly I can’t and won’t take my eyes away.
I love you, Mom.
I hadn’t meant to cry today. It’s difficult to see, but I can’t wipe my eyes without the bike toppling.
The little wooden statue of a heron, stuck tight into the grass, looks out, motionless, over the water. I can see the flowers that Dad and I tucked next to it.
My fingers pull the brakes and my bike slows until I’m right next to my mom’s heron.
Up ahead, I hear my dad stop. The path crunches louder as he makes his way back. I look up at him.
‘Our flowers are dying,’ I tell him. The petals are curling, their colours fading.
‘They’ve been here a week,’ he says.
‘I wanted them to last longer.’ They were for my mom, three different bunches, for each of the years without her.
My dad leans over to try to hug me, but our bikes make it awkward and his arms are heavy.
I won’t look at the water.
‘Shall we keep going?’ my dad asks. He’s sad and this was our happy day. I nod, even though I want to stay here, with my mom’s heron staring out, looking for her.
He begins to pedal slowly away and I stay close behind him.
‘Shall we go to the High Point?’ he calls over his shoulder.
‘Yes,’ I shout back.
It’s not far to bike and the bottom of the hill is close to the path.
‘There’s no way I’m biking up that,’ my dad laughs. It stretches green and steep, the war monument perched proudly on the top. ‘But I’ll race you!’ And he’s off, way ahead of me.
‘That’s cheating.’ I put my bike down gently next to his and I’m running like a leopard. I’m getting closer to him. My legs ache and my breathing burns, but I love it. I push myself faster, but he gets there first. He’s lying on his back, his tummy going up and down so quickly.
I fall down next to him.
‘You need to get fit,’ he laughs. ‘Less eating so much party food and more exercise.’
I hold my breath.
The thought of chocolate cake creeps up my throat.
‘I’m glad your friends came round though,’ my dad says. He stretches out on his side and leans his head on the triangle of his arm. ‘So it’s getting easier, is it?’
I look down at the grass. I pick a blade and another. Picking them and just throwing them away.
‘It’s not going to change overnight, honey, but having a few friends round for your birthday is a start.’
Tell him. There were no friends. It’s all a lie. But my head can’t seem to start the words.
‘Kath tried so hard to make it good for you.’ He sweeps his palm gently across the top of the grass. ‘We’re lucky to have her, aren’t we?’ When he looks at me, I know I can’t say it. He’s got a happiness in his eyes that was burnt out when Mom died. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without her.’
‘I wish I had skin your colour,’ I say. I don’t know why that suddenly comes out now. And it’s sort of not true. Not all the time, in any case. I got my skin from my mom and I want to keep it.
‘Oh, honey.’ He puts his arm out for me and I curl into him and suddenly I feel so safe. I want to stay lying like this forever, where no one can touch me, no one can hurt me. ‘Have other kids been saying things again?’ I don’t move. I don’t nod, or shake my head. Nothing. ‘I know it’s hard, but you’ve just got to ignore them. You’re a beautiful little girl. Every part of you – your brown skin, your big smile, your eyes like perfect chocolate buttons that I want to eat every time I look at you.’
He pretends to eat my cheek, but it tickles and I squirm away.
‘I wish I had long, blonde hair,’ I say. ‘And it’d be so straight.’
‘No, you don’t want that,’ my dad says.
But that’s what she’s got, I want to say. You love Kathleen because of her hair.
‘You see, hair like yours is special. You don’t want to be one of the crowd. It’s good to stand out. To be a bit unique.’
No. I want to sit on the bus with blonde hair. I don’t want Ryan sticking pencils in it, because he says they’ll get stuck. I want to walk down the corridor without them making bird noises at the bird’s nest of my hair.
‘You are so like your mom,’ my dad says. ‘She learnt to keep her head held high and that’s what you’re doing too. You’re worth something, June.’
I press my head into his chest until I find his heart, the steady beat of it. Yes no yes no.
I can’t imagine that my mom’s heart stopped. If it had just kept beating, she’d be here with us now.
I move on to my back and stretch my arm out. If I concentrate really hard, I can feel her fingers in mine. There they are. The warmth of her palm. She strokes my thumb with her own.
Oh, Mom, I miss you.
‘Come on.’ My dad jumps up suddenly. He tugs at my arm and I stand and we walk hand in hand to the monument at the very top. We step on to the stone base and turn to look down over the land. We’re giants and this is our kingdom.
The sun is so warm on my face, my arms, my bare legs. Below, there are tiny fields and houses that I could balance on my fingernails.
Somewhere, Kathleen is the size of an ant. I lift my foot and stretch it out. I see her raise her hands and I smile as I bring the sole of my shoe down hard on her face.
My dad laughs. ‘What are you doing?’
I close my eyes as he puts his strong arm round me. It’s just me and him now. Together we can conquer the world.
BEFORE
four days later
‘It’ll only be for one night.’
‘But I don’t want you to go.’ Fear grips me. Dad’s never gone and left me in the house with Kathleen and Megan overnight.
‘I have to. I have no choice.’ He’s tucking me up in bed and stroking back my hair. He’ll be gone by the time I wake up in the morning and he won’t be back until Friday.
‘Can’t I come with you?’ I ask. ‘I’ll be really quiet. They won’t know I’m there.’
‘You’ve got school to go to.’
‘I could miss it. It’s just two days. And I’ll work really hard to catch up.’
‘Pumpkin, you can’t. There’s no way round this. But it’s not for long. And you’ll have a lovely time. Kath has got lots of nice things planned.’
I go cold all over and turn towards the wall. My head starts to pound and I know I’m going to cry.
‘Come on, June, don’t be like this. Some dads have to go away quite a lot. This is the first time I’ve had to do it.’
But I pull the duvet high over my head.
I feel the mattress lighten and I know he’s got up. There’s a pressure on my back where he must have put his hand. Then it lifts and I can hear him walking gently across my bedroom floor. The door opens and it clicks closed.
He’s gone.
And I didn’t let him kiss me goodbye.
I know that it’s Ryan pulling my hair. On and on, while Miss Hawthorne sits talking to us. She doesn’t notice. She’s too intent on telling us about the angles of a triangle.
‘Oi, Juniper.’ He’s shuffled forward and is whispering in my ear. ‘Caught any fish today?’
I keep staring to the front. I watch Miss Hawthorne’s mouth move, but I don’t hear many of her words.
Kathleen didn’t do anything bad this morning. She woke me up and I got dressed. My heart had been knocking against my skin.
As usual, she’d put the big mound of food out for my breakfast. Muffins and bacon and thick white bread with chocolate spread. Megan had stared at me, as she always does, as she ate her normal bowl of cereal. Sometimes, she looks like she hates me, but at others she seems frightened to even breathe. I looked away from her and kept my eyes down for the whole meal. Waiting.
But nothing.
Kathleen had tied my red ribbon in my hair and she gave Megan her kiss goodbye. She told her she loved her, that she was the most special girl in the whole world, and then she’d shut the door behind us.
Maybe, maybe it’ll be OK.
We’ll eat our meal tonight and watch TV.
‘Your breath stinks of sewage,’ Ryan tells me.
Miss Hawthorne jumps up. ‘So, if you get into pairs, we can start,’ she says.
There’s a rush of movement, a frenzy of worry from the other children. Jennifer and I go to a table and sit together.
‘Haven’t found anyone, Ryan?’ Miss Hawthorne asks. ‘You can work with me.’ Jennifer pinches my arm and I smile at her. Pink pushes itself on to Ryan’s cheeks and happiness spreads slowly through my bones. He sees how much I’m smiling, but I don’t care.
Miss Hawthorne hands out the paper, so in our pairs we can begin.
I’m walking to the lunch hall when I’m grabbed from behind. A hand goes over my mouth and I’m dragged round the corner, my feet kicking on the ground. Other children see, but no one helps me, no one stops them.
The main restroom door bangs open and shut. Ryan and Cherry pull me to the ground and Lauren puts a hand over my mouth.
‘If you scream, your life won’t be worth living,’ Lauren says. Ryan is getting something from his bag. It’s a small pot, and when he cracks the lid off it I can smell that it’s paint. Cherry passes him a brush and he dips it in. I thrash my head from side to side, but I can’t get away.
The white paint is wet and cold on my cheeks. Ryan brushes it over my forehead, across my chin and over my mouth. The chalky taste drips on to my tongue.
They hold my legs down as they brush the skin on my arms, painting me white.
When the pot is empty, Ryan drops it into the bin.
‘You look like your albino friend now.’
He turns his back on me and I hear the faucet turn on and the water splashing into the sink, as he cleans his hands. Lauren and Cherry get up and clean their hands too, while I lie motionless on the floor.
Ryan looks back at me before he goes.
‘A big improvement,’ he says.
They’re gone.
It’s totally quiet.
I look up at the ceiling, at the squares of foam bricks held together with strips of metal. I could lie here forever.
A noise outside makes me scramble to my feet. Two younger girls come in and they scream when they see me and run out giggling.
I won’t look in the mirror. I won’t see what they’ve done to me. I won’t see myself as their dream of white. I’m my mom’s colour and I always will be and that’s what I want to be.
I turn on the faucet that Ryan touched and let the water wash over my arms. My skin comes back. I scrub at my face and work the paint from strands of my hair. I rub some wet tissues over my legs, until every last speck of the stinking white has gone.
And, just like my mom, I hold my head high, push open the door and go to face them.
Megan and I go into the kitchen and Kathleen is here. She has her apron on, tied round her neck and her waist. She turns to us and her face lights up when she sees Megan.
‘Beautiful girl,’ she says as she hugs her. ‘Did you have a good day?’
‘I got chosen for the soccer team,’ Megan says proudly.
‘My clever girl.’ Kathleen takes Megan’s bag and coat from her and brushes past me as she goes to hang them in the hall.
I wait. I don’t know why. It’s the same every day. Every day, I wait and hope that it’ll change, that she’ll notice me. That I’ll be beautiful enough for her to say hello to. And clever enough to get a hug.
‘Tell me about it,’ she says to Megan, and she pulls out a chair so that her daughter can sit down. She pours her a glass of orange juice and passes her the bowl of yoghurt and apple she’s already prepared.
I walk back into the hallway and hang up my coat and bag. I take off my shoes and put them neatly on the shelves before I go up the stairs.
One day, I’ll shout and scream that I exist. One day, they’ll know I’m here.
In my bedroom, the two chocolate muffins sit on my desk, as usual. I sit and eat, because if I throw them away, she’ll know.
Maybe my dad will come back early. They’ll cancel his night away and he’ll be walking up our path in time for supper. I watch the gate through the window until my eyes start to blur. He’s not here. He doesn’t come.
So I curl up on my bed and wait.
‘It’s dinner time,’ Megan calls up the stairs.
I’m not hungry, but I know I have to go.
The smell of Kathleen’s cooking comes up towards me and I push through it as I walk down.
In the kitchen, they’re already sitting at the table. I look from one to the other, but they both ignore me as I sit down. Megan has an expression on her face that I can’t read. They have bowls of freshly made stew in front of them. In my place, there’s a plate of something different.
‘Eat up, June,’ Kathleen smiles at me. She has that look in her eyes and now I can smell that she’s given me dog food.
I look towards the door, but my dad is not there.
‘I can’t,’ I whisper.
‘You will,’ Kathleen says.
They pick up their forks and begin to eat.
I sit as still as a stone. Maybe if I don’t move, I’ll disappear.
I can hear the sounds of their mouths chewing their food. Their forks scrape to pick up more mouthfuls.
Suddenly, Kathleen stands up. She grabs my hair and forces open my mouth.
‘You will eat,’ she says, so quietly. ‘I’ve prepared this for you, so you will eat.’
She shovels some on to a spoon and pulls my head back. I want to scream with the pain, but I have to keep my mouth shut.
The lumps of wet meat are at my lips and she’s trying to force them in. No no no no no. I’m stronger than you. I won’t let you.
‘Megan, hold her nose.’ Kathleen sounds so calm, yet my head is ringing with terror.
Megan hesitates. It’s enough to make Kathleen turn on her.
‘Now,’ she says coldly.
Megan gets up. She squeezes my nostrils shut so tight that my eyes water.
And I have to breathe. I have no choice. The food meant for dogs is forced into my mouth. I gag at the feel of it. I don’t want to swallow it, but my throat jolts and it slips down.
Kathleen spoons more in again, until my mouth is full.
‘You need some water,’ Megan says, and she lets go of my nose and grabs for a glass and there’s water mixing with the dog food and spilling down my cheeks and squeezing down my throat. I’m thrashing out and Megan looks suddenly terrified. She knows I’m finding it hard to breathe.
‘Mom,’ she says weakly.
Kathleen lets me go. My eyes are burning. My throat is numb.
I rush away from them, my school shirt wet, my mouth still full of the runny lumps.
I get to the bathroom before they can catch me and I put my fingers down my throat and retch and retch until my stomach is empty.
The smell of my vomit keeps filling the air.
AFTER
‘But at what point is a child to blame?’ Reverend Shaw asks.
‘Megan knew what she was doing,’ I reply.
‘Did she?’ he asks gently. ‘I wonder really whether she knew. Or whether she had any control over it at all.’
His words are taking me to a place I don’t want to be, a time I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to think about how it could have been. I try instead to concentrate on the flowers that he’s brought in from outside.
‘I’m glad you’re not choosing my wedding flowers,’ I say lightly.
‘Church decoration isn’t my strong point,’ he smiles. But he knows that I’m trying to take the conversation far away.
‘People do strange things when they’re scared,’ he tells me.
‘Megan wasn’t really scared.’
‘She was a child too,’ Reverend Shaw says. ‘A very lost one, I should imagine. You wouldn’t have been the only person frightened of Kathleen. Any child living under her roof would have been terrified at times.’
‘So Megan could just do what she wanted? And get away with it all?’
‘I’m not excusing her behaviour,’ he says quickly. ‘But maybe now you can see it differently? Maybe you can distance yourself from the pain and try to see Megan for what she was – a confused child, just as scared as you, but in a different way.’
I close my eyes as the sunlight streams in through the window. I need to think of something else. How these early spring days are my favourite, before it gets too hot and mosquitoes clam up the skies.
‘June?’ The reverend’s voice is patient as he waits for me to open my eyes.
‘But Megan hurt me.’ My tears are sudden and angry.
‘I know.’
‘I don’t feel sorry for her.’
‘I do,’ Reverend Shaw says calmly.
BEFORE
eleven years old
I decide to turn right outside the house and ride my bike along East Lane, even though there’s never much to see this way. The freedom moves my legs, faster and faster. The fields are flat on either side of me and seem to stretch to the ends of the earth. I pass the Picketts’ Farm and, after longer still, the empty blue building I sometimes see from the car.
I pull my bike to a stop at the edge of Creeper’s Forest. Dad’s always made me promise never to go through it on my own, but, today, it doesn’t seem frightening. I think it will curl round me and protect me from anything bad. I turn my wheels on to its path and start to move again.
The trees are packed tightly and almost block out the sunshine, but I’m not afraid. I like the way that the air is colder. I like the way it smells of dry sticks. It’s bumpy, but if I follow the trees’ lines, it’s not too slow.