up the jumper again from her locker, and spread it on her knees. It was not her jumper. She did not look like that. She took the letter she had
been writing and rewriting all week, and propped it up on top of her locker. It was addressed to Meg Tanner.
Dear Mum,
Please don’t be upset. As you know I’m feeling a bit mixed up at the moment. I need some time on my own to think things over. So I am going to stay with a friend for a bit.
It’s Clare, the girl from the next bed. She’s said I can stay in their spare room. She shares a nice house with two other girls so don’t worry. I hope you and Dad don’t
mind. I think I’ll be better at deciding what to do, on my own. So don’t worry about me, and I’ll come and see you soon. Thank you for visiting me every day and for
everything.
Lots of love,
Carolyn xxxxxxxxxxxx
Meg was given the letter by Martinet when she arrived at two o’clock to take Carolyn home. She had taken the afternoon off work. But Clare had been and collected Carolyn
that morning.
Part Two
Chapter 7
Clare had led Carolyn along endless humming corridors, whose walls were punctuated by closed doors. Fluorescent lights shone down on dull red rubbery floors, making a pinkish
reflection on the walls, and at intervals the passages were interrupted by semitransparent plastic flapping doors, like valves in a vein. At last they emerged into a wide entrance hall, where a
porter was loading a trolley, and two receptionists sat like bottled specimens in glass cages by the wall. On the opposite side, daylight shone through glass doors. Clare, who was carrying
Carolyn’s suitcase, leaned against a door to hold it open for her. Carolyn rushed out, almost falling down a flight of stone steps.
The sharpness of the cold made her cough and brought tears to her eyes. It took a long time to focus and get rid of the swimming water. The light. It was so bright and sharp. It was spiky as
spilt pins. And the cold air – like getting a different substance into your lungs, water or another element. She could feel it, thick and cold in her chest, like something she’d
swallowed; as if before she hadn’t been breathing air at all. The atmosphere was still and very quiet. Sounds from specific distances moved across the silence, footsteps in the gravel,
voices, traffic. But the clog of sound she had never noticed in hospital was removed, as if a plug of cotton wool had been taken out; that constant humming buzz of the working building like a
machine or a living body around her. Now she was outside.
Clare was staring at her. She propelled her to a low wall and sat her down beside her suitcase.
“I’m going to get a taxi. You don’t look fit to walk. Wait here. OK? Just sit here till I come back.”
Crunch crunch Clare walked quickly over the gravel. Carolyn stirred it with her foot. She could feel the separate movements of hundreds of small pointed stones through the sole of her shoe. Now
the patch she had stirred was darker grey. The gravel was damp underneath. Beneath her bottom the brick wall was hard and penetratingly cold, with a sharp edge that cut into her thighs. On the
other side of the path stood a sapling. It was bare, its straight grey branches raised like arms to the cloudy heavens. It was as simple as a naked body. Above the tree, about a quarter of the way
up the sky, the sun was an opaque light behind layers of grey cloud, eye-wateringly white.
She stood up carefully, feeling the cold air move across her exposed face and hands, and turned around. Behind her, beyond a patch of raw dug earth, was a car park full of brilliantly coloured
cars, red yellow and blue. Their shapes seemed as dear and familiar as friends’ faces, she wanted to pat their cold metal bonnets.
Then Clare took her by the elbow and led her along the path which suddenly went through a gate and stopped. There was a lot of noise. The road. Clare helped her into a black car that stood by
the kerb with its door
been writing and rewriting all week, and propped it up on top of her locker. It was addressed to Meg Tanner.
Dear Mum,
Please don’t be upset. As you know I’m feeling a bit mixed up at the moment. I need some time on my own to think things over. So I am going to stay with a friend for a bit.
It’s Clare, the girl from the next bed. She’s said I can stay in their spare room. She shares a nice house with two other girls so don’t worry. I hope you and Dad don’t
mind. I think I’ll be better at deciding what to do, on my own. So don’t worry about me, and I’ll come and see you soon. Thank you for visiting me every day and for
everything.
Lots of love,
Carolyn xxxxxxxxxxxx
Meg was given the letter by Martinet when she arrived at two o’clock to take Carolyn home. She had taken the afternoon off work. But Clare had been and collected Carolyn
that morning.
Part Two
Chapter 7
Clare had led Carolyn along endless humming corridors, whose walls were punctuated by closed doors. Fluorescent lights shone down on dull red rubbery floors, making a pinkish
reflection on the walls, and at intervals the passages were interrupted by semitransparent plastic flapping doors, like valves in a vein. At last they emerged into a wide entrance hall, where a
porter was loading a trolley, and two receptionists sat like bottled specimens in glass cages by the wall. On the opposite side, daylight shone through glass doors. Clare, who was carrying
Carolyn’s suitcase, leaned against a door to hold it open for her. Carolyn rushed out, almost falling down a flight of stone steps.
The sharpness of the cold made her cough and brought tears to her eyes. It took a long time to focus and get rid of the swimming water. The light. It was so bright and sharp. It was spiky as
spilt pins. And the cold air – like getting a different substance into your lungs, water or another element. She could feel it, thick and cold in her chest, like something she’d
swallowed; as if before she hadn’t been breathing air at all. The atmosphere was still and very quiet. Sounds from specific distances moved across the silence, footsteps in the gravel,
voices, traffic. But the clog of sound she had never noticed in hospital was removed, as if a plug of cotton wool had been taken out; that constant humming buzz of the working building like a
machine or a living body around her. Now she was outside.
Clare was staring at her. She propelled her to a low wall and sat her down beside her suitcase.
“I’m going to get a taxi. You don’t look fit to walk. Wait here. OK? Just sit here till I come back.”
Crunch crunch Clare walked quickly over the gravel. Carolyn stirred it with her foot. She could feel the separate movements of hundreds of small pointed stones through the sole of her shoe. Now
the patch she had stirred was darker grey. The gravel was damp underneath. Beneath her bottom the brick wall was hard and penetratingly cold, with a sharp edge that cut into her thighs. On the
other side of the path stood a sapling. It was bare, its straight grey branches raised like arms to the cloudy heavens. It was as simple as a naked body. Above the tree, about a quarter of the way
up the sky, the sun was an opaque light behind layers of grey cloud, eye-wateringly white.
She stood up carefully, feeling the cold air move across her exposed face and hands, and turned around. Behind her, beyond a patch of raw dug earth, was a car park full of brilliantly coloured
cars, red yellow and blue. Their shapes seemed as dear and familiar as friends’ faces, she wanted to pat their cold metal bonnets.
Then Clare took her by the elbow and led her along the path which suddenly went through a gate and stopped. There was a lot of noise. The road. Clare helped her into a black car that stood by
the kerb with its door
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