Chapters (75)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Title Page
- Intoroduction
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EITHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- CLIMATE EMERGENCY
- Copyright
We lay sheets of newspaper over the turned earth, weigh it down with stones. ‘Keeps the frost out,’ Dana explains.
We continue working in silence. I draw a strange warmth and comfort from working next to Dana, side by side. Even if she won’t talk to me. I’m thinking about nothing else, just the work in front of me, the stones in my palms, the fork in my grip. After a while, my hand stops complaining and goes numb. Maybe it’s the cold. My mind kind of goes numb, too. Just a vague foresight of what will grow here in the spring.
After what could have been five minutes or two hours, Dana speaks again. ‘There are things I don’t understand.’
‘Do you want to do some more revision?’
‘Not those kinds of things.’ Her look is withering. ‘About you, Josh. I take back what I said about you being able to cope with things. You’re not coping. Are you?’ It sounds like a statement rather than a question.
‘How do you mean?’
‘I know I tend to say the wrong thing a lot and fuck everything up, so I’m really going to try not to this time. But you have to listen to me. OK?’
I nod.
‘You know about Carl. I told you about him. He’s toxic. He’ll get inside your head, under your skin.’
I know she’s right, but I can’t avoid my anger. ‘If he’s so bad, why are you still—’
‘I said listen. No speaking from you. I’m still here because I can’t get away.’
I shrug, still unable to show the understanding she seems so desperate for.
‘You really don’t get it, do you? He’s everywhere. He knows everywhere that I am. Except for here, this place.’ She looks around her, at her garden. ‘I suppose, in a way, he’s always been in here.’ She taps her temple. ‘My mum and his mum go way back. Mum thinks he’s brilliant, so I can’t talk to her about it. She starts crying when I try to talk about what he was like before… And what he does to me now… I tried talking to her once but she just said “there are worse men” and walked off.’
Dana props her spade against the wall and sits on the grass, hugging her knees. ‘When she was growing up, Mum had lots of run-ins with Social Services. None of them nice, apparently. And she’d do anything to keep them off her back now. Off my back.’
She’s addressing the walls as much as me. I get the sense that if I sat next to her she’d lose the ability to speak.