Ellie
Ellie thought about flipping on a light, but she liked the room as it was. The outside spotlights cast the study in strange shadows. The remaining darkness softened the corners, hid the cobwebs. Created anonymity. This could be any room in any house. Perched on the edge of the sofa, a drink in hand, she listened to the wind and rain. It was better down here, away from the others. At some point, she had heard someone leave their room—Hollis or Maeve, she wasn’t sure—but paid them no mind. All that mattered was creating a space where she would be able to sleep tonight because every time she closed her eyes, she could see him. Callum. Who never once mocked her for being forgetful or asking a stupid question or needing help with something the others might see as trivial, like putting the sliding drawer back into her desk. He’d done it because she’d asked him, a favor for a friend. But when he’d asked her for a favor, had she been as kind? Ellie jumped from the couch, rubbing her hands. She hadn’t had a flashback in a long time, not since Jilly was a baby and Ellie had panicked that she’d stopped breathing. It had taken David half an hour and two gin and tonics to calm her. He thought she was overprotective about the baby, but that wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all. In a sudden fit, she downed her entire drink. Callum had been a giver, this was true, and she was not. But that didn’t mean she would let him take from her now. She would see to that. Ellie went to fix herself another drink but spotted something on the floor—a small, square piece of paper. She wandered from the study into the glass-walled conservatory, listened to the rain ping off the glass. The house’s outside light shone through the glass room like the beam of a spotlight, illuminating her find. It was a piece of sparkling gold cardboard, a bit of ribbon stuck through a hole. The words Congrats, Dad! written in proper cursive.
A splotch of red marred the final letter.
Hollis
The cold wind woke Hollis like a shock. He zipped his jacket all the way to the top, ducking his chin into the collar. He’d hurried from the house as soon as he’d found the photograph. It had all clicked then, what Lorna had said, what had bothered him about the whole evening. She hadn’t been in the study when he returned, but he didn’t want to waste time looking for her. He needed to get them help. Fast. The outdoor lights of Wolfheather House guided him up the rocky drive as he kept one eye on his footing, the other on his phone. Drops of rain beaded on the screen, and he tried to remember if his phone was water resistant while his boots crunched on the wet gravel.
“Come on. Can’t I have one bar at least?”
A metal ping echoed in the air behind him.
Hollis scanned the area, using his phone as a torch. Seeing nothing, he continued up the drive. When the lights of the house were mere specks in the darkness, not one but two bars emerged. Hollis fist-pumped the air.
“Yes! There we are.” He rubbed the screen dry on his jeans. As he tried to open the phone app, a long series of email alerts popped up faster than he could dismiss them.
“Come on. Quit it! I don’t care about my bloody Men’s Health subscription.”
Then he saw the texts from Linda.
19:32 Hey Dad u there?
19:40 Dad ring me when u c this
19:43 Srsly Dad need u to answer
19:47 One new voice mail.
Hollis pressed play. He had to listen to the voice mail twice before understanding it.
“Shit.”
He dialed 999. The bright screen blinded him to all else, including the tire iron swinging at his head.
Pp. 23–30
promise there’s a reason behind everything. I swear on Callum’s grave. And you might think I’m skipping a whole bunch of time, but honestly there’s really nothing else you need to know about the rest of September 1994, or even October. In fact, if everything could have kept going like it did in those months, then none of us would be in the situation we’re in now. But things did change, and that change started early in November, when the weather still felt like October and most people thought it too soon for Christmas decorations.
That November morning, Lorna made a resolution. She was going to be more sociable. For two months she had avoided long conversations in the front room and flat-out refused to participate in the near weekly house parties. She wanted to focus on her schoolwork, get her degree, and move on from this temporary phase in her life. But excluding herself hadn’t given her more focus. It had turned her into a ghost, benign but unwanted. Whenever she entered a room, she sucked the life out of the conversation. People avoided eye contact so as not to set her off. She didn’t want to be that person anymore.
That morning, she pulled her short hair into a ponytail and nodded to herself in the mirror. She could do it. She could be a normal university student.
When she opened the door, she met Callum as he exited his room. Years later, Lorna would recall him ducking his head to fit through the doorway as he examined the Minolta Maxxum 9000 that hung around his neck by a black and red woven strap. She remembered that the strap resembled a seat belt. When he walked, he would keep one hand braced against the camera to prevent it from bouncing against his chest. When he held it to his eye, it blocked most of his face. When not in use, the camera remained in a padded black nylon case with a Scottish Rugby keychain attached to the zipper pull. The case would sit on the back left corner of the desk in his bedroom, which was pressed against the wall that formed the border between his and Lorna’s rooms.
“Morning, Lorna!” He winced. “Sorry. Too loud?”
“No, you’re fine.”
“Sorry? Were you headed to the bathroom? You can go first.” He cradled the camera as if protecting an injured bird and waited for her to pass.
“It’s fine. I was headed down for breakfast. Actually, I’m glad I caught you. You know that paintball thing you were telling me about? Friday, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure I’ll go. I asked Maeve and she didn’t seem keen, so . . .” He fiddled with a button on the camera.
“Well, I was going to say, if you wanted, I’ll do it with you.”
“But you said you had no interest in getting shot at by total strangers who only wanted to see women humiliated in the field of sport.”
“I was having a bad day.”
Callum raised his eyebrows.
“Or month. But it would be fun to get out some aggression.”
“Really? Okay! Sign-ups are in the student union. I was going by there today. I could put us down as a team or—”
“Yeah. That’d be great.” Lorna winced at her own cheerfulness, but Callum’s face brightened.
“Brilliant! I’ll see you downstairs. I’ve got to, uhm . . .” He pointed at the bathroom.
“Right. Have at it.”
I did that, she thought, making her way downstairs. I did something that made someone happy.
When she reached the kitchen, her pride at her newly discovered propensity for cheer caused her to call out Maeve’s name so loudly, it struck the girl like a bullet. Maeve’s head snapped around in a panic.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Breakfast?”
“If someone didn’t eat my Frosties again.” Maeve kept her distance, like a skittish child afraid of the dog that once bit her.