Since You've Been Gone - Anouska Knight

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of the local community. Then, one night, over beer and nostalgia, Charlie had his eureka moment. He’d been telling Martha and Rob about his awful school days where he’d been expelled from one high school, and forgotten by his next. He’d been aggressive, and disruptive—everything you didn’t want from a teenage boy. Everything Charlie wasn’t.

      But it had all been a diversion. A mechanism for survival. Because no one had ever diagnosed Charlie’s dyslexia.

      Martha cried when Charlie told her the things he’d do to avoid being called upon for answers in class. He made light of it, but I knew how it had affected him, how he worried that our children would suffer the same way. School for him had been a demoralising experience, and a lonely one too, but even we were stunned when Rob told us the proportion of offenders he’d represented with learning difficulties such as Charlie’s. Individuals who had all started off with expulsions for behaviour just like his, children crippled by shame. It had taken Charlie a long time to finally accept that he wasn’t simply stupid.

      Rob had raised the topic of forest schools that night. We’d never heard of them, not even through Charlie’s work. The more Rob had explained what it was he understood forest schools to be the more Charlie had hung on his every word. He’d thought that a forest school was the answer, to the sustainability of the forest and to the local children who could benefit from all that they offered.

      ‘They’re not talking about it now,’ said Big Frank, grabbing for a stick Dave was thrusting at his hand. ‘The slade’s gone. Sold. It’s all fenced off now by the new owners. They’ll be moving into the woodland next.’

      I looked around me into the eeriness of the forest. It was so beautiful here, I couldn’t bear it if we lost the woods too. Frank kicked at a few fallen pinecones as we walked, sending them spinning from the rich damp earth.

      ‘I’d better let you get on, Frank,’ I said, reaching up to give him a hug goodbye. ‘Say hi to Annie for me?’

      ‘I will. Watch for that mad dog of yours.’

      Another bristled cheek and Big Frank turned back towards where Dave had first found him.

      Dave went back on his leash as we neared the more populated walks. The path led us through the woods, past the forest park where families were picnicking and chasing each other around on bikes, before taking us out onto the slade at the foot of the forest. All along the perimeter, iron stakes held aloft red and white tape, flickering uselessly in the breeze. Although it had quite obviously been demarked as somewhere we couldn’t go any more, it was hard to accept that so much space was suddenly off limits.

      The pocket of my jacket flashed to life with the phone ringing inside it. It was Jesse’s face on the screen.

      ‘Hey. What’s up?’

      ‘All right, Hol, sorry to spoil your day off,’

      ‘No, you’re fine. Is everything OK?’ I asked.

      ‘Yeah yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just, I’ve got a lady on the shop phone asking if we can make two hundred cupcakes for Monday.’

      ‘Monday? This Monday coming?’ I asked. It was unusual for anyone to have a function on a Monday, and be this late for ordering.

      ‘Yeah, I didn’t want to say yes without checking it with you first.’

      ‘Thanks, Jess. Did she say what they’re for?’ Dave was trying to pull me into the slade. He’d never been bothered before, now he wasn’t allowed he wanted in. I heard Jess running my query through the other phone.

      ‘No, no function.’

      ‘Delivery or collection?’ I asked.

      ‘Collection.’ I couldn’t help but be suspicious. You tended to get a feel for quantities and days, that kind of thing. This sounded like a wind up.

      ‘OK,’ I said, ‘but they need to pay it all up front, today. Otherwise we can’t start it when we get in on Monday. And no cheques, Jess.’

      ‘You got it. Catch you later,’ he said

      ‘Bye.’

      Jess clicked the phone off. It was unlikely I’d be making those cupcakes on Monday, I could near enough feel it.

      Dave and I were back in the old Land Rover Mrs Hedley let me use to cart him around in, and well on our way home when my mobile started ringing again. Jesse, Martha and my folks all had the same ringtone, whoever this was I didn’t know them, I didn’t think. I ignored it and carried on for home. The sky had already started falling into that rich cerulean blue by the time I’d dropped the key round to Mrs Hedley. I needed an excuse to get out of movie night at Martha’s.

      As soon as I’d let us into the cottage, Dave went straight for his spot on the floor at the back of the kitchen. I crashed too, on the window seat halfway between Dave’s bed and the bottle of wine I’d left on the breakfast bar, and lay back there looking up at the rows of books on the shelves above me. I held my phone above my face and flipped through the menu to text Martha. I know, I’m a coward, but it’s markedly easier to say anything when you don’t have to use your voice to do it.

      The call I’d missed was from a number I didn’t recognise. They hadn’t left a voicemail.

      Martha returned my text within seconds, checking that I was feeling OK and not having the meltdown my mother was always warning everyone to be ready for. Martha was surprisingly fine though. I should imagine it was nice for them to have a Saturday night to themselves for a change without me playing gooseberry. I didn’t fancy Rob’s chances for getting out of the grapefruit breakfast tomorrow though.

      My arm started to ache from mid-air texting, so I rolled onto my side. Martha had made a long mid-grey cushion to run along the cream timber seat, and had insisted on at least six scatter cushions in soft lime and grey to finish off ‘the look’. Never mind how it looked, it was pretty damn comfortable here. Comfy enough to just slope off into a sleep. I pulled a cushion under my head. Across the kitchen, through the chunky legs of the table, I could see Dave’s hulking frame already snoozing in his bed. He had an easy life. Reluctantly, I pushed myself up.

      A glass of red, and a soak in the tub were the only things that were going to get me on my feet.

      Dave was already too far gone to come sit in the bathroom with me. I poured a glass of wine, grabbed one of the deli pots out of the fridge and headed up on my own. I polished off the feta chunks while I changed out of my jeans and tee shirt, and wished I’d bought more as I sunk my tired body into the hot silk of the water. There were few things more pleasurable than sliding into a deep bubble bath. Well, there were a few things, though I could vaguely remember what those things felt like. Vaguely. I resolved to start making more time for baths and showering less.

      The change in temperature rippled me with gratifying goosebumps. I lay back and closed my eyes, enjoying the drip, drip, drip of the tap into the otherwise still water at my feet. The stiffness in my shoulder from Dave’s yanking gradually began to release. Through barely open eyes, I lifted a foot to the trickle of cold water, plugging the tap with my toe, and was more than shocked at how long I must have left it since last de-fuzzing my legs.

       Bloody hell, Holly. You won’t need to wear trousers through the winter if that grows much more!

      I spotted my razor on the tray in the shower. ‘Oh sod it, I’ll do it tomorrow,’ I said, before settling cold shoulders back into the warmth beneath the water line.

      I relaxed again, the noises of the water swilling around me died away to nothing. Downstairs, I could hear Dave sucking in a deep, sleepy breath through his nose, then the dull buzzing of my mobile phone vibrating on the bed.

      I thought Martha had given up too easily.

      Just ignore it.

      But then she’ll worry.

      Go answer the phone.

      ‘Damn it, Martha!’

      The

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