‘Take the tablets, Neens,’ he whispers. ‘You want to feel better, don’t you?’
I nod. Better. Yes. That’s what I want to feel.
‘Then please, swallow the tablets and stay here. Just for tonight. Otherwise …’ His voice trembles. ‘Otherwise, I don’t know what’s going to happen.’
The image of a willow tree fills my head. It’s confusing at first, but then I remember: it’s the willow tree at the end of the school field. I remember kissing him. His soft lips. Josh’s skin against mine. I do trust him. He’s the only one I trust.
Dr Evans coughs and it makes me jump. I look up at her. Her yellow hair is too bright for her pale face. She holds out a tablet. A plastic cup filled with water.
I look at Josh. He takes a deep breath. Nods. I take the tablet; press it against my tongue.
‘Good,’ the woman says, handing me the water.
I sip. Swallow. She hands me another tablet.
‘You’ll feel better soon,’ Josh says, squeezing my knees.
When I look down at him again, I see that he’s shaking. His face is pale: he looks frightened. His phone rings and he pulls it out of his jeans pocket.
‘Mum,’ he says. ‘Thank God! I … I need your help.’ And then he’s crying into the phone, talking about me. Sniffing and sniffing, trying to get his words out.
Heavy head. Lying in a bed. The sky-blue room again. Josh is next to me, sitting on a black chair. His hair’s wild. Big tears drip down his face. Our eyes meet and he turns and looks up to where his mum’s standing, her hands on his shoulders.
Mrs Stone smiles at me, but sadly. ‘You’ve been sleeping,’ she tells me, her voice soft and low. ‘You’re very tired. But you’ll feel better soon.’ She looks down at Josh; wipes the tears from his cheeks.
I want to ask them where we are. What I’m doing here. I want to know why Josh is crying. But my whole body feels heavy, even my tongue. I can’t speak.
The door to the room opens. It’s Fi. She’s wearing a short dress, like she’s going on a night out. But she’s also crying. All her make-up is smudged: black liner and mascara all over her cheeks and red lipstick around her lips.
Why is everyone here, in this room? And why is everyone so upset?
Fi closes the door. ‘They’ve managed to get hold of Neena’s dad again,’ she tells Josh. ‘He’ll be here soon, so you need to leave now.’
Josh shakes his head. ‘I’m not leaving her side,’ he says. He looks up at his mum again and she also nods.
‘We’ll stay,’ she says. ‘It’s OK.’
‘No way!’ Fi’s voice is raised now and she’s bouncing from one foot to the other. She crosses her arms tight across her body. ‘You need to go. I’m sorry, Mrs Stone. You don’t understand. If Neena’s dad sees Josh here, she’ll be in trouble. And I … I mean, a LOT of trouble.’
Josh’s mum looks down at him. ‘This is what you were telling me about earlier?’ she asks him. Josh nods.
‘Then Fiona’s right – we need to go.’
Fi sinks down on to the bed, next to my feet. She bites her nails.
‘I’m sorry,’ Josh says, reaching for my hand. ‘I’ll call you later?’
I still can’t speak. My mouth won’t work. Even my hand feels floppy, like it’s not my hand at all. I try to squeeze his fingers to tell him I love him, but my fingers don’t seem to work either. Nothing works. My eyes are too heavy to keep open.
I close my eyes; slip back into sleep. Back into my dream.
The church is quiet. The church is cold. It’s winter in the church. We’re in the front row: Mum and me.
I’m wrapped up in layers of black clothes: black dress and tights, jumper, coat, scarf, gloves, long black boots. But still my face is frozen from the cold. I can’t blink. I can’t move my lips to speak.
Around us, a sea of black. Heads bowed.
Out of the window, the actual sea. It’s summer out there. The sky is bright and the sun is making everything shimmer. The church floats steadily on glimmering water.
Ding. Ding. Ding. The church bells ring.
I manage to move my neck enough to look up at Mum. I touch the thick black cardigan she’s wearing over her black salwar kameez to get her attention. But she doesn’t turn to look at me. She’s frozen too.
Ding. Ding. Ding. The church bells ring.
Footsteps echo through the church. It takes a while, but slowly we all turn to face the aisle. It’s Dad. He’s dragging a huge casket towards the front of the church. His black suit is hanging off him, far too big; his heavy black coat drags along the floor. His face and body are thin and frail. Finally, he reaches the altar.
Ding. Ding. Ding. The church bells ring.
Dad falls to his knees and presses his head against the casket. There’s movement around the church. Cries. Moans. Dad looks up. His hands are blue-black. His eyes are red and bulging.
Ding. Ding. Ding. The church bells ring.
Row by row, everyone visits the casket. They silently wipe tears from their faces. Then it’s our turn. I hold on to Mum’s arm as we walk to the front. Our legs are so stiff it takes a while. When we finally reach the front, we peer into the casket.
It’s empty.
Mum falls to the floor. Her frozen face cracks all over and she lets out a wail. I shiver. I shake so hard that Mum takes my hand to calm me. Dad puts his arms round us both. We hold on to him as we stumble back to our seats.
Ding. Ding. Ding. The church bells ring.
The low hum of the organ vibrates through the air. Out of the window, waves crash and calm, crash and calm. And I spot Akash there, swimming in the ocean, his body strong against the tide. Alive! I press my palm against the window and try to open my mouth to call him. But my lips won’t move.
Ding. Ding. Ding. The church bells ring.
The organ drones on. Through the ringing and the droning, we hear the piercing cries of a baby. The church sways. People stumble. Fall. The empty casket slides back and forth on the altar. Water drip, drip, drips through the ceiling. It pours through the windows. The baby cries and cries.
We grasp hold of the pews as everything – as we – slowly sink.
I open my eyes to the same small sky-blue room. But now Dad’s here, standing next to the bed I’m lying in, his arms folded tight across his chest.
‘You’re not welcome here,’ he’s saying to someone. ‘I’ve asked you three times now. Please leave.’
I follow his gaze. He’s speaking to Fi, who’s sitting at the end of the bed, next to where Dr Evans is writing something on a clipboard. Fi stands up and adjusts her dress. It looks like she’s about to say something, but instead she nods, gives me a small smile, and leaves.
I glance around the room. Josh and his mum have also gone.
Dad sits down on the black chair next to me, and Dr Evans comes and stands next to him.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asks. ‘You’ve been sleeping so well – Dad’s been waiting patiently all morning to see you.’
‘Neena, betee,’ Dad says, touching my arm. His face looks thin and his eyes look sore.