clashing silent swords. A straight band of steel-coloured light gleamed between sea and sky. Clouds collided and merged above the water and the sun came and went, shifting veils of pink and orange around itself.
‘Beautiful,’ Uncle George said, and Lila wiped her eyes and said she supposed so. She could not explain that it was just another thing put there to diminish her, another thing to feel separated from.
They made their way over the dunes to the start of the beach, kicking up from the sand its usual smell of briny rot. Now the marram grass broke off in clumps, revealing small bunkers of pebbles edged with reeds. They crossed the broken line of seaweed that marked the high tide and walked along in silence but for the cracking of dried weed and shells under their feet. The tide was miles out and the wheeze of the waves did not reach this far. George sat down on a tussock of grass and shifted over to make room for Lila.
‘I don’t suppose,’ he said, ‘that it’s really all about Enid, is it? If I were you, I think I’d be screaming for other reasons.’
Lila was silent.
‘Suppose we start with Enid, then,’ he said. ‘What’s Enid done?’
‘She saw the garage door,’ Lila said. ‘She saw the garage door and she kept on about it, what the letters were for. I had to tell her something, I made something up. I just made up this thing and she’ll find out it isn’t true. Then it’ll be awful, she’ll go on and on. She’s always going on.’
‘So? Does that matter?’
‘Of course it matters! She’ll tell Senga! She’ll tell Senga and everybody. You don’t know what it’s like!’
‘And what exactly will she tell them? What did you say?’
‘I had to say something! She kept asking, she was going on about Senga and her—Senga’s always getting people ganged up on me, I hate Senga. So I told her it was about singing
Turandot
. I said it was a sort of club. The Burnhead Association for Singing
Turandot
.’
‘A club?’
‘For singing
Turandot
. BAST.’
‘My God. Did she believe you?’
‘I don’t know! Oh, I hate it! All the stupid, the whole stupid…’ Lila burst into tears. ‘I hate it! I hate this place!’
Uncle George stared straight ahead and let her sob.
‘Oh, dear,’ he said after a while, turning to her, ‘you’re so like your mother.’
‘I am
not
!’
He laughed and shook his head. ‘But that was clever.’
‘What was?’ She was still upset but the hint of a compliment at once opened up the possibility that she might be brought round.
‘What?’
‘Your whatsit. B A S T—your Burnhead Association for Singing
Turandot
.’ Speaking the words himself, Uncle George seemed to find them hilarious. He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Bet it shut her up. What did she say?’
‘Nothing much.’
George fished in his pockets and lit another cigarette. The fumes from the match drifted Lila’s way, reminding her of railway smoke.
‘So what about this Premium Bond? What do you think it should go on? What would you do with it, if it was up to you?’
The novelty of being consulted made Lila’s eyes fill with tears again and this time she wept for a long time. ‘I wish it’d never come,’ she said eventually, gulping. ‘They can spend it how they like. As long they stop arguing. As long as she starts being normal.’
George placed an arm across her shoulder.
‘I hate it here,’ she whispered. ‘I want to come to London. Can’t I come to London with you? You wouldn’t have to pay for me. I’d get a job and pay you rent and everything.’
Uncle George tugged at her shoulder and gave a light laugh. ‘Oh come on,
nil desperandum,
eh? Can’t be as bad as all that, can it?’
‘It’s getting worse. She’s never been this bad before. I have to get away. Can’t I come to London?’
Uncle George snorted. ‘I can promise you she’s been every bit as bad as this. You were just too young to know.’ He made a wry face and raised one eyebrow.
‘Beautiful,’ Uncle George said, and Lila wiped her eyes and said she supposed so. She could not explain that it was just another thing put there to diminish her, another thing to feel separated from.
They made their way over the dunes to the start of the beach, kicking up from the sand its usual smell of briny rot. Now the marram grass broke off in clumps, revealing small bunkers of pebbles edged with reeds. They crossed the broken line of seaweed that marked the high tide and walked along in silence but for the cracking of dried weed and shells under their feet. The tide was miles out and the wheeze of the waves did not reach this far. George sat down on a tussock of grass and shifted over to make room for Lila.
‘I don’t suppose,’ he said, ‘that it’s really all about Enid, is it? If I were you, I think I’d be screaming for other reasons.’
Lila was silent.
‘Suppose we start with Enid, then,’ he said. ‘What’s Enid done?’
‘She saw the garage door,’ Lila said. ‘She saw the garage door and she kept on about it, what the letters were for. I had to tell her something, I made something up. I just made up this thing and she’ll find out it isn’t true. Then it’ll be awful, she’ll go on and on. She’s always going on.’
‘So? Does that matter?’
‘Of course it matters! She’ll tell Senga! She’ll tell Senga and everybody. You don’t know what it’s like!’
‘And what exactly will she tell them? What did you say?’
‘I had to say something! She kept asking, she was going on about Senga and her—Senga’s always getting people ganged up on me, I hate Senga. So I told her it was about singing
Turandot
. I said it was a sort of club. The Burnhead Association for Singing
Turandot
.’
‘A club?’
‘For singing
Turandot
. BAST.’
‘My God. Did she believe you?’
‘I don’t know! Oh, I hate it! All the stupid, the whole stupid…’ Lila burst into tears. ‘I hate it! I hate this place!’
Uncle George stared straight ahead and let her sob.
‘Oh, dear,’ he said after a while, turning to her, ‘you’re so like your mother.’
‘I am
not
!’
He laughed and shook his head. ‘But that was clever.’
‘What was?’ She was still upset but the hint of a compliment at once opened up the possibility that she might be brought round.
‘What?’
‘Your whatsit. B A S T—your Burnhead Association for Singing
Turandot
.’ Speaking the words himself, Uncle George seemed to find them hilarious. He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Bet it shut her up. What did she say?’
‘Nothing much.’
George fished in his pockets and lit another cigarette. The fumes from the match drifted Lila’s way, reminding her of railway smoke.
‘So what about this Premium Bond? What do you think it should go on? What would you do with it, if it was up to you?’
The novelty of being consulted made Lila’s eyes fill with tears again and this time she wept for a long time. ‘I wish it’d never come,’ she said eventually, gulping. ‘They can spend it how they like. As long they stop arguing. As long as she starts being normal.’
George placed an arm across her shoulder.
‘I hate it here,’ she whispered. ‘I want to come to London. Can’t I come to London with you? You wouldn’t have to pay for me. I’d get a job and pay you rent and everything.’
Uncle George tugged at her shoulder and gave a light laugh. ‘Oh come on,
nil desperandum,
eh? Can’t be as bad as all that, can it?’
‘It’s getting worse. She’s never been this bad before. I have to get away. Can’t I come to London?’
Uncle George snorted. ‘I can promise you she’s been every bit as bad as this. You were just too young to know.’ He made a wry face and raised one eyebrow.
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