‘And Simon and Sandy seem to be so bloody happy with it all!’ Suzie continues, as ever fiercely aware of how different she is to her siblings. She’s crying again now – definitely a combination of angry and just too much this time. ‘They’re all, oooh, isn’t it lovely, oooh, aren’t we lucky… and that just makes me feel like even more of a freak, like there’s something wrong with me! It’s like I’m trapped in some kind of horror movie where everybody else is all blissed out, and I’m the only one who doesn’t feel like everything’s perfect! What’s wrong with me,Mum? Why can’t I just be happy like everyone else? Why can’t I benormal?’
She sounds wrung-out and desperate, and Molly wishes she was closer so she could give her a cuddle or at least hold her hand.
‘There’s nothing wrong with you, Suzie, I promise you – and you don’t have to be normal, my love. You just have to be you. It’s all my fault anyway. When mine and your dad’s genes got squished in the big Person Creating Experiment, you got a lot more of me in the mix. I was exactly the same when I was your age.’
This elicits the eye roll she was expecting, and her daughter gives her that look that teenagers manage with such panache – the one that says they’ve already heard all your stories a dozen times, that they know everything about you, that you are dull and boring and could never in a million years understand what they’re going through. Because, duh, you’re a grown-up.
‘Yeah, I know, Mum – you were a wild child, I get it! We’ve all heard the tales about how you roamed the world in your camper van before Starshine finally tamed you! But you’re not me, are you? And look at you now anyway. There’s nothing wild about you now. You’re as sucked in by this place as everyone else.’
‘True. I suppose I am. But the home I grew up in made me feel exactly how you do now.’
‘Right, and how is that, then? How do I feel, All Knowing One?’
Molly ignores the sarcasm – which is an essential skill as a mother, she’s discovered. If you respond to every barbed comment or heavy sigh or slammed door, you’d spend your whole life running on adrenalin.
‘Stifled. Crushed. Strangled. Trapped. Like you’ve been crammed into a box that doesn’t fit you, and now someone is cranking the sides of the box with a lever so it’s getting smallerand smaller and you can’t move and can’t breathe and can’t find a way out. Like if you don’t somehow burst your way out of that bloody box, you will probably die.’
A swoop of surprise appears on Suzie’s tear-stained face, followed by a few moments of silence.
‘Okay. Yeah. That’s kind of it. I’m sorry, Mum.’
‘What for?’
‘For all of it. For being a dick. For making you climb a tree. For just being so… difficult. I know the others are easier. I know I’m the awkward middle one that causes all the problems.’
Molly laughs out loud and carefully shuffles further along her branch to be closer. Suzie does the same, and soon they are able to reach out and hold hands in front of the reassuringly solid trunk in the middle.
‘Darling, where would the fun be if everyone was easy? If everyone was the same? I spent most of my childhood convinced I’d been swapped at birth – I couldn’t believe that the very ordinary, very boring people I was living with could actually be genetically related to me!’
Suzie looks a little guilty, and Molly squeezes her fingers tighter. ‘It’s okay, sweetie. You’re allowed to feel however you feel. I will always love you, no matter where you are, no matter how far away, no matter how many problems you cause. Now, let’s talk about university.’
It’s a sudden shift, and Suzie is caught unawares. She’s doing her A-levels right now, and needs to complete her uni applications within the next few weeks. She’s been putting it off – torn between not wanting to go at all, and a crippling inability to choose. Much as she says she wants to escape, she’s also a little bit scared of leaving.
‘Dad wants me to go to Bournemouth, or Bristol.’
‘I know he does. Because they’re not too far away from here, and because he loves you and wants to keep you safe. But maybe,Suzie, they’re too close. Maybe you need to look further afield. Maybe one of the Scottish colleges?’
Suzie pulls her hand away. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’ she snaps, immediately on the defensive.
‘No. I’m trying to help you get out of the box that’s crushing you. Tell me again, Suzie – when you look out at this view, what do you see? Really?’
Her daughter gazes out at the sea, at the cliffs, at the little village that is spread along it, lit up for the Millennium Party on the green. Molly just looks at her daughter, the most beautiful sight of all.
‘I see a place I want to leave,’ Suzie says quietly. ‘But a place I’m afraid to leave. God, that’s so stupid…’
‘No it’s not!’ her mum assures her. ‘We’re capable of feeling more than one thing at once. Look, let’s talk about it again tomorrow. Let’s sit down and look at those prospectuses you have, and make a decision. Together. How does that sound?’
‘It sounds not completely terrible.’
‘All right. I’ll settle for that. Now, I hate to be boring, but I’m not at all sure how I’m going to get down out of this tree…’
‘I told you you were too old. I’ll help you, I promise. It must be nearly midnight. Do you want to go back to the green and celebrate with everyone else?’
Molly smiles as she pictures the scenes back in the village. George and Simon had set up trestle tables full of food and drink, and the whole place was ready to party – adults, kids, dogs, possibly even a cat or two. Starshine does many things well, but it absolutely excels at celebrating.
George’s sister, who owns the Starshine Inn, has rigged up speakers that blast out music from the old juke box, and even from the woods you can hear it. Currently, it’s the chorus of Prince’s ‘1999’ – possibly the most popular song on the planet on this particular night, as everyone prepares to say goodbye to thenineties and hello to a whole new era. Assuming the Millennium Bug doesn’t wipe out humanity, that is.
‘You know what, I think I’m quite happy here, Suze. Let’s leave them to it, shall we, and have a little New Year all to ourselves?’
