Driving Home For Christmas

June 2002

‘You can’t keep doing this.’ Lucas was rocking back and forth on the chair in the library, looking like a Judd Nelson wannabe. He had detention again.

‘Says you. What was it this time?’ Megan didn’t even look up from her biology book.

Lucas shrugged, looking at the ceiling. ‘Forgot my homework? Was late to something? I don’t even really notice any more. I am, apparently, a bad seed.’

He swung his chair legs back down with a thunk. The older librarian was on duty, Mrs Cranson, and she shh’d him with a glare. He put up his hands in defeat and moved over to where Megan was studying.

‘No,’ she put her hand up, eyes still focused on her work, ‘no time to talk.’

‘Meg, you’ve got to stop this, you’re pushing yourself way too hard. They’re just GCSEs. They don’t matter.’

‘To you,’ she snorted. ‘Look, Lucas, I have exactly twenty minutes to finish my biology revision before I’ve got to go to my dance class, and then my music class, and then when I get home I have a maths tutor, and our exam is tomorrow, okay? I don’t have time to entertain you because you’re bored in detention again.’

She looked up at him, and her eyes were bloodshot, strained with dark circles. Her skin looked pale and drawn and she looked like she’d lost weight. Sure, they weren’t best friends or anything, but he’d known her since they were kids, and he liked Megan. She was a crazy control freak perfectionist, but that wasn’t really her fault. She used to be funny, be sassy and sarcastic, but the teachers wouldn’t mind because she still got all the answers right.

She didn’t seem sassy any more. She seemed grey.

‘Meg, come on, you’re going to make yourself ill. Have you eaten today?’ Lucas rifled through his messenger bag, covered in badges and pen marks, and produced a chocolate bar. ‘Here.’ He threw it in front of her face.

‘I am not hungry!’ she hissed. ‘Look, I’ve had four Red Bulls today and you are making me waste that energy that I need to get this shit done!’

‘SHHH!’ Mrs Cranson shot her death glare at Megan this time.

‘Oh for – fine! You know what, fine! The library shouldn’t even BE for detention! People are trying to study!’ Megan started stuffing her papers into her bag, but as she stood up, everything started to get woozy and all the colours merged into each other, and then into black.

When she woke up, Lucas was holding her hand. Her head hurt.

‘Wha –’

‘You passed out. Exhaustion. Probably too much caffeine and too little food. But you know, I’m not a genius or anything…’ he shrugged.

Megan tried to sit up.

‘Nope!’ He put a hand on her head. ‘I have been told I’m not allowed to let you get up. Something about the school’s insurance. Mrs Cranson insisted that I make sure you couldn’t injure yourself further on school property.’

‘And you always do what the teacher says?’

Lucas grinned, blue eyes twinkling. ‘Oh I’m a regular boy scout.’

‘Then help me sit up.’

He lifted her hands until she was sitting cross-legged next to him, and he passed her the chocolate bar again.

‘Eat it.’

Megan just looked at him, and he nodded encouragingly.

‘If you don’t, I’m going to start singing really loudly here in the library, and that would put people off their studies! At this very important time! And you, Megan McAllister, couldn’t stand it.’

‘You’re such an arse,’ she sighed, biting into the chocolate with aggression, whilst he just leant back and grinned.

‘Do you ever wonder what you’re doing this for? All the studying and the lessons and the focus?’ Lucas asked.

‘My parents,’ Megan shrugged, ‘they want me to do well.’ And it doesn’t go down well when I complain, she added silently.

‘Don’t you get any downtime?’

‘What’s downtime?‘Megan grinned. ‘You mean the time after all my lessons when I pass out in my bed and get five whole hours of sleep?’

Lucas Bright turned to her, blue eyes flashing as he leaned in, earnest and intense. ‘That’s not really living though, is it?’

Megan shrugged. ‘What choice do I have?’

Lucas grinned. ‘You know how your mother thinks I’m a bad influence and you should probably stay away from me?’

Megan said nothing, blushing as she looked at the floor.

‘She was right,’ Lucas laughed. ‘I think you’re in need of a little rebellion. And I am a master.’

***

The first night at Whittleby Cottage went smoothly. Mainly because they’d had wine with dinner and Jonathan had opened the good whisky. They ordered in Chinese food because the turkey was burnt and Megan tried not to think about the waste of it all, how much money they’d probably spent on that turkey only to give it to Minnie. She shook it off. There was no way to avoid the situation – if they were too familiar and had too good a time; it was painful. If she made it difficult, everyone felt awkward, and Skye would be upset.

She watched her daughter, sitting on the floor at the coffee table, Jonathan on the other side as they played chess. A Christmas compilation played in the background, and the house smelled like cinnamon. Minnie was sitting on her feet, and her mother was sitting with her sketch book in the corner. Megan had a sneaking suspicion she was drawing Skye, but didn’t say anything. There was no need for conversation, no need for explanation, at least not yet, and that was comforting.

When it got to ten o’ clock, Megan roused herself. ‘Come on bub, time for bed. You can finish the game tomorrow.’

Skye grumbled but stood up, putting her hand out to shake Jonathan’s. ‘Thanks for playing with me, Granddad. I look forward to beating you tomorrow.’

‘I’m sure you do, but it’s not likely to happen!’ He stuck out his tongue.

‘We thought Skye could stay in your old room, and then you could go in the guest room? Or whichever way you want to do it…’ Heather trailed off, looking at Megan for approval.

‘Sounds great, Mum,’ Megan nodded, realising she hadn’t addressed her mother so far, not properly. A lump formed in her throat. ‘Are Matty and Claudia staying over Christmas or…?’

‘They’re only down the road, they might stay Christmas Eve night, depending on how things go…’ Heather trailed off again, but Megan knew what she meant. In case it all got a little too emotional, Matty would play buffer.

‘Good idea.’ She waved, then guided Skye upstairs. ‘Night!’

Her room. What would they have done with it? Created another beautiful guest room, so posh that every visitor felt uncomfortable sleeping in it? She pushed the door and saw it still squeaked. Megan stepped in and felt the energy leave her body as she looked around. It was unchanged. Everything was exactly in its place, the same as she left it, almost ten years to the day.

The posters, everything from The Kinks to Bob Marley to Tom Waits. The photo montage above the bed, the band posters. The scratched dresser with all her creams and perfumes still as they had been. The poster for that last gig at The Nag’s Head lay on the side, crumpled and unfolded a million times, until all their faces were faded away. She wanted to cry, but she didn’t know if it meant her parents cared, they wanted to keep her close, or if they were mourning her like some dead daughter, instead of reaching out. Keep the old Megan in a mausoleum and mourn her. Abandon the real one to get on with her life.

Skye bounced on the bed, tracing the edges of the black and white bedspread. There was a knitted blanket at the end she’d bought from IKEA when it first opened, and Dad had taken her. Pingu the penguin sat on her pillows, as if he’d been waiting all this time, stalwart and loyal.

‘This was you, huh?’ Skye looked around in awe.