violence.’
‘Heather Madison won’t even leave the house.’
‘I don’t know how much more Summer can take.’
‘Jon says they’re the same – Heather and Summer.’ We spoke quickly, not giving the other the chance to finish until in the end we both stopped and sighed.
‘Summer is the last person this should happen to,’ Phoenix added.
I agreed. ‘Remember Arizona – how tough she came across? None of us were scared she couldn’t handle the stress of coming back to the far side.’
‘Summer’s different. Sometimes I think it would be better if we didn’t try too hard for her, just let the anniversary pass without any answers.’
‘And leave her in torment!’ I felt a spark of anger. ‘Don’t say that, Phoenix. I already talked to Summer about it. We have to solve this thing – you know we do!’
‘Wait until you see her,’ he warned. ‘But be ready for it. And don’t say I didn’t prepare you.’
Phoenix stayed in the car with me until I arrived at the Madisons’ place, then we exchanged our last, hurried kisses and he vanished.
‘Will you be here when I come out?’ I wanted to ask, but his light had fizzled and faded, and I knew I wouldn’t get an answer. I walked up to the front door, trying to clear my head.
‘Come in, Darina.’ Jon opened the door before I knocked. ‘I heard your car. For a second back there I thought you had someone with you.’
‘No, I’m alone.’ A breath of air blew from behind – a cold, creepy reminder for Phoenix and me to take more care in future.
Summer’s dad opened the door wide. ‘I told Heather you were coming. She’s in her studio, looking at the pictures I shot this morning.’
Shaking off Hunter’s warning signal, I glanced nervously across the hall. ‘You want me to go ahead?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll make coffee,’ he said as he disappeared into the kitchen.
So I crossed the hall and tapped on the studio door, feeling the silence in the space where there used to be music and laughter. There was no answer from inside the room but I pushed open the door anyway and was greeted by the same jumble of stacked canvases and unused paintsand brushes that I’d noticed last time I was here.
Heather didn’t turn or look up. She seemed engrossed in the prints laid out on a table in front of her, running her fingers lightly over their glossy surface. I noticed again how like her daughter she was, especially from behind, with the lines on her face and other marks of grief hidden. Her fair hair hung loose past her shoulders and she wore the kind of flowered top and floaty skirt that Summer liked. When she spoke, it was with the same gentle voice. ‘Come look at these pictures of Hartmann,’ she invited. ‘See the spring flowers.’
I went and stood beside her, struggling to find something to say to fill the long silence.
‘Summer loved the spring,’ Heather told me. ‘It was her favourite time of year. Look at the lake, how beautiful it is.’
‘I was there this morning. It’s pretty.’
‘It’s over a year now,’ she sighed, still stroking the pictures with her fingertips. ‘Since Arizona drowned, I mean.’
I shook my head in confusion and for the first time Heather glanced up.
‘You thought I meant my daughter?’
‘No. I mean, I knew you couldn’t be talking about Summer …’ I trailed off.
‘I think about Arizona a lot,’ Heather confessed. ‘And Jonas and Phoenix – all of them. We families, we’re all so different, but we have the one terrible thing in common. And their friends too – you share what we feel.’ She paused then and gazed out of the large window overlooking the mountains. Then, without saying anything, she led me from the studio to Summer’s room.
I steeled myself not to give way to sadness, to try and be some kind of support to this woman who had lost her child.
‘You know how it feels?’ she asked suddenly, standing by her daughter’s bed looking at more photographs – this time
‘Heather Madison won’t even leave the house.’
‘I don’t know how much more Summer can take.’
‘Jon says they’re the same – Heather and Summer.’ We spoke quickly, not giving the other the chance to finish until in the end we both stopped and sighed.
‘Summer is the last person this should happen to,’ Phoenix added.
I agreed. ‘Remember Arizona – how tough she came across? None of us were scared she couldn’t handle the stress of coming back to the far side.’
‘Summer’s different. Sometimes I think it would be better if we didn’t try too hard for her, just let the anniversary pass without any answers.’
‘And leave her in torment!’ I felt a spark of anger. ‘Don’t say that, Phoenix. I already talked to Summer about it. We have to solve this thing – you know we do!’
‘Wait until you see her,’ he warned. ‘But be ready for it. And don’t say I didn’t prepare you.’
Phoenix stayed in the car with me until I arrived at the Madisons’ place, then we exchanged our last, hurried kisses and he vanished.
‘Will you be here when I come out?’ I wanted to ask, but his light had fizzled and faded, and I knew I wouldn’t get an answer. I walked up to the front door, trying to clear my head.
‘Come in, Darina.’ Jon opened the door before I knocked. ‘I heard your car. For a second back there I thought you had someone with you.’
‘No, I’m alone.’ A breath of air blew from behind – a cold, creepy reminder for Phoenix and me to take more care in future.
Summer’s dad opened the door wide. ‘I told Heather you were coming. She’s in her studio, looking at the pictures I shot this morning.’
Shaking off Hunter’s warning signal, I glanced nervously across the hall. ‘You want me to go ahead?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll make coffee,’ he said as he disappeared into the kitchen.
So I crossed the hall and tapped on the studio door, feeling the silence in the space where there used to be music and laughter. There was no answer from inside the room but I pushed open the door anyway and was greeted by the same jumble of stacked canvases and unused paintsand brushes that I’d noticed last time I was here.
Heather didn’t turn or look up. She seemed engrossed in the prints laid out on a table in front of her, running her fingers lightly over their glossy surface. I noticed again how like her daughter she was, especially from behind, with the lines on her face and other marks of grief hidden. Her fair hair hung loose past her shoulders and she wore the kind of flowered top and floaty skirt that Summer liked. When she spoke, it was with the same gentle voice. ‘Come look at these pictures of Hartmann,’ she invited. ‘See the spring flowers.’
I went and stood beside her, struggling to find something to say to fill the long silence.
‘Summer loved the spring,’ Heather told me. ‘It was her favourite time of year. Look at the lake, how beautiful it is.’
‘I was there this morning. It’s pretty.’
‘It’s over a year now,’ she sighed, still stroking the pictures with her fingertips. ‘Since Arizona drowned, I mean.’
I shook my head in confusion and for the first time Heather glanced up.
‘You thought I meant my daughter?’
‘No. I mean, I knew you couldn’t be talking about Summer …’ I trailed off.
‘I think about Arizona a lot,’ Heather confessed. ‘And Jonas and Phoenix – all of them. We families, we’re all so different, but we have the one terrible thing in common. And their friends too – you share what we feel.’ She paused then and gazed out of the large window overlooking the mountains. Then, without saying anything, she led me from the studio to Summer’s room.
I steeled myself not to give way to sadness, to try and be some kind of support to this woman who had lost her child.
‘You know how it feels?’ she asked suddenly, standing by her daughter’s bed looking at more photographs – this time
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