Coming up for Air

It can’t be me she’s yelling at. There must be a mistake. Nobody calls me Tor. Not anymore. Not in years.

She shouts louder this time, and darts across the street, zigzagging between beeping cars, giggling and waving an apology. She stumbles onto the pavement, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and holds out her arms. I shuffle backwards and lower my eyes, picking at my thumbnail. It’s strange. But even after all this time, there’s something achingly familiar about seeing your mum again.

“Tor, love. I thought it was you,” she coughs, letting her arms fall to her side. “I was going to pop round to your house later, but…”

I shrug my shoulders, staring at the ground, my shoe scuffing circles on the concrete.

“Have you got time for a drink? It’d be lovely to catch up. Hear your news…”

“I can’t. I need to get back. There’s still so much to sort.”

“One drink. We don’t have to be long. I can run you home afterwards,” she says. “Look, there’s a café right along here.”

Your mum pushes open the door, the bell jangling against the glass: “Sit wherever you like. You choose.”

I scan the room, settling on a table in the corner, well away from the ladies shrieking into their lattes. Away from the rabble of schoolboys clustered round a laptop.

“Cappuccino. Flat white. What do you fancy? My treat.”

“Just a black coffee thanks. No sugar.”

She nods and glides up to the counter, flashing a smile at the barista, chattering away about the unusually hot weather as he whisks the milk and pours it into one of the cups. My cheeks flame when your mum glances over her shoulder and catches me staring. I look away, scowling at my chewed nails.

I can’t look at her. I can’t. It was the same that night too. Except back then I’d gawked at the policeman’s mustache. Anything to avoid catching your mum’s eyes, wild and frantic. Hair plastered to her forehead. Her hands trembling as they gripped my arms.

“You didn’t say you were hungry, but I got you a chocolate brownie,” she says sliding into the chair opposite and nudging the plate towards me. “If I remember, you always had a sweet tooth.”

My stomach churns and I clasp my hands round the coffee mug, breathing in the bitter aroma.

“Not much has changed,” she says crumbling a piece of brownie between her thumb and finger and popping it in her mouth. “In the town center I mean. There’s still a gaping hole where the Coop was. Such a shame. And I see they’ve opened a new cinema on the waterfront. Do you go there much?”

“No,” I mumble. “I spend most of my time studying.”

“Studying. I don’t believe it Victoria Hamblin,” she chuckles. “It was almost impossible to get you and Heidi to sit still long enough to open your textbooks.

I flinch at the mention of your name. How can she say it so easily? Like it’s no big deal. I feel the pain building in my chest, and I squeeze my eyes closed, fireworks exploding in my head.

“I’m teasing love,” she says reaching across and patting my hand. “I spoke to your mum. Straight As and off to study law at Cambridge. That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you. Really, I am.”

I pick at the chipped edge of the table. It’s not a big deal. Not really.

“Are any of your friends going too or will it be a whole new adventure?”

Friends? Is she serious. Surely, she knows what it’s like. I’d have expected your mum to understand more than anyone, but she hasn’t got a clue. Thinks life goes on. Same as everyone else.

“Tor, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

Okay?

“I know you blame me,” I say, choking down the quiver in my voice. “You can stop pretending. You can just come out and say it. That if I hadn’t left her, then it wouldn’t have happened. Heidi would still be here.”

She recoils, hands flying to her mouth, eyes like saucers.

“Tor, no,” she whispers, glancing left and right. “You can’t think that. Of course I don’t. Why would I blame you?”

Because I blame me.

My eyes prickle and I press a napkin to my face, blocking out the café. Blocking it all out. If I could go back and change things I would.

I would.

I’d grab my satchel and hurtle down the aisle, leaping off the bus seconds before the doors swished closed. I’d sit on the wall, kicking my feet back and forth, socks wrinkled below my scraped knees. I’d watch you balance on the edge of the curb, giggling, ponytail dancing, until your mum’s car rattled round the corner.

That’s what I should’ve done.

Instead, I waved through the bus window until you were little more than a blur, sliding down the seat and closing my eyes. My head full of vinegar-soaked chips and cinnamon rice pudding.

It was my fault. I should never have left you.

“Tor, love. Look at me,” she says, peeling my hands away, forcing me to look at her. “What happened to Heidi had nothing to do with you. If anything, I blame myself. If I hadn’t got held up at work, if I hadn’t been so late to meet her, then… then she’d…”

“.. Still be alive,” I sob, scrunching the napkin to my eyes, swiping away the tears.

“Oh Tor, why do you think I blamed you?”

“Because you moved away. Didn’t even say goodbye. I haven’t seen you in years. Why would I think anything else.”

“Sweetheart, no. No, I don’t blame you at all,” she says, frowning at the group of women who have swiveled round in their chairs, heads bent together, whispering. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Your mum chucks some coins onto the table and steers me into the street; her arm wrapped round my shoulders. Neither of us speak until we walk through the tall metal gates of the park.

“We had to get away Tor,” she says pausing by the lake. “I couldn’t face staying here, seeing the pity in people’s eyes. Hear them talking about us – oh you mean the family whose daughter was murdered. Or worse still, hearing the gossip. Accusing me of being a terrible parent. We all needed to get away. Make a fresh start. Am I making sense?”

I nod. It does make sense. Why does she think I’m too scared to make friends. Terrified of getting close to anyone in case they leave me too.

I follow her gaze watching a flotilla of geese skim through the water: “I used to walk past your house all the time,” I murmur. “Even after the new family moved in. I thought perhaps if I wished hard enough then everything would go back to normal. Heidi would come flying out of the door and you’d be there. That this whole thing would have been a terrible nightmare.”

“Oh Tor,” she says, pulling me close and resting her chin on my head.

“Some days it doesn’t feel so bad, and I think I’m okay, but then I’ll hear a song on the radio. Something stupid that we used to dance to, screeching into our hairbrushes and I crumple. I just miss her so much. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”

“You don’t have to get over it. Nobody just gets over it. But one day it will hurt a little less and…”

“Does it for you?”

“A little. But it took time. A lot of time. You know, I didn’t think I’d ever come back here, but I missed you. Wanted to see you again. I’m so sorry Tor. I shouldn’t have just left, but I couldn’t think straight. I was struggling with my own grief and…”

“Do you know what scares me most?” I interrupt. Your mum shakes her head, her brow wrinkled.

“I’m worried I’ll forget her. Sometimes I wake in the night, and I can’t remember if her eyes were dark green or light green. Or which cheek had the dimple. And I’ll panic and snatch up the picture frame and stare at her face until I fall back to sleep.”

“You’ll never forget her love. She’s part of you. She’s in here,” your mum says tapping her chest. “But you know what, she wouldn’t want you to lock yourself away Tor, she’d want you to…”

I hold up my hand, cutting her off, tears pouring down my cheeks.

“She wouldn’t, love. I know she wouldn’t. She’d want you to go to Cambridge, make new friends and have as much fun as you could.”

“Maybe.”

“She would. I know she would,” she says, glancing at her watch, eyes widening. “Christ, look at the time. I’d better run you home or your mum will be wondering where you’ve got to.”

I follow behind stepping round quacking ducks and looking up at the slope where we crashed the sledge into the oak tree. It’s weird, although I see you everywhere, this is the first time I've sensed your presence, as if you’re right here next to me. It’s like a weight has shifted, easing the pressure in my heart. It feels like I’ve finally come up for air.

“Promise me you’ll go out there and have a blast,” your mum says, whirling round and grabbing my hands. “Don’t let anything hold you back do you hear me. That’s the best way you can honor Heidi’s memory. Do you promise you’ll try?”

“I promise,” I whisper, wrapping my arms round her waist. And I will. I promise to make every minute count. I’m going to have so much fun and live life to the full Heidi; enough for me, enough for the both of us.