Ours is the Winter: a gripping story of love, friendship and adventure

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Molly

Molly ducked her head away from the curious eyes in the airport terminal and wished she hadn’t let her mum take her to the airport. As if the four-hour lecture on being careful on their drive from Sheffield wasn’t bad enough; now this. And where the hell was Erica? This was her idea, and she couldn’t even be bothered to arrive on time to give Molly some backup.

‘Mum, it’s OK. You can stop crying. I’ll be back next week,’ Molly said, her voice low.

‘I know, ignore me.’ Joyce sniffed and wiped a disintegrating tissue across her face. A tiny piece of white caught on her mum’s cheek and another in her loose afro curls. Molly sighed and brushed her finger across Joyce’s damp skin, removing the tissue and a fresh tear along with it.

‘Are you going to be all right?’ Molly asked.

Joyce nodded. ‘Absolutely. Just promise me … promise me, Molly Jane, that you’ll be careful.’

‘Of course I will, Mum. It’s really safe, honest. There’s no way they’d let a group of strangers trek across the Arctic without all the proper equipment and precautions.’

‘You’re all I have left. I can’t lose you …’ Joyce’s reply trailed off into a croaked whisper before she dropped her head onto Molly’s shoulder.

‘Maybe you should get a hotel near the airport tonight?’ Molly said. ‘Driving back when you’re this upset isn’t a good idea.’

‘Oh.’ Joyce sniffed again and stood up straight as if just remembering that they were in the middle of Stansted Airport’s departures hall surrounded by people. ‘No, no, I’m fine. It’ll be too expensive.’

Molly followed Joyce’s gaze over the array of travellers with backpacks, suitcases, and luggage trolleys moving through the terminal. Why was she the only one with a distraught parent to deal with?

You know why. The voice in her head was sudden and came with a gut-twisting guilt that stole Molly’s breath.

‘Treat yourself,’ Molly pleaded. ‘You could go into London tomorrow and do some sight-seeing.’

A shadow darkened Joyce’s face.

‘Or anywhere, really,’ Molly added quickly. ‘You’ve always wanted to see Kensington Gardens.’ Molly pulled out a phone and fired a text to Erica: Where are you?!!

‘Fiona and the others will be expecting me back.’ Joyce wiped her sleeve across her face and seemed to compose herself a little.

Molly’s phone buzzed in her hand. A reply from Erica lit her screen: I got here early. I’m in the duty-free bit.

Flipping great, Erica. Thanks for the backup.

‘They’re cats,’ Molly sighed, forcing the annoyance out of her tone. None of this was her mum’s fault. ‘If you don’t feed them, they’ll go next door for grub.’

Joyce frowned but said nothing. The cats had been a source of comfort to Joyce at first. Fiona – the old grey tabby who’d been around almost as long as Molly – had given Joyce love and a purpose in the dark weeks after Billy.

But now their small three-bed terrace had become a haven for unwanted cats of varying colours, sizes, and decrepit states. The house stank of cat litter and crap, and there was cat hair on and in everything. Molly couldn’t make a cup of tea without fishing out at least three wiry hairs from the black cat with one eye who’d made a home beside the kettle.

‘I’d better go. Erica’s waiting for me.’

‘Please don’t,’ Joyce said, her voice barely a whisper over the crowd that had gathered beside them. Joyce tightened her grip on Molly’s arm.

Indecision tore through Molly. What was she doing? Why was she even going? No way could she leave her mum like this. No way. ‘OK, I’ll stay.’

The anger seethed through her blood and prickled her skin with sweat underneath her clothes.

Joyce dropped her hand as if she could feel the boiling rage burning her skin, then shook her head. ‘No. Ignore me. Of course you’re going. Erica’s relying on you. You two need to work things out and a change of scene will do you the world of good. I think we could both do with a change.’

Molly flicked a glance at the cheerful group, laughing and jostling around two blonde-haired girls – carbon copies of each other – wearing matching backpacks. A little boy and girl waved helium balloons on sticks with the words Good Luck written across them. The children craned their necks, watching the joyous farewell of the adults with wide-eyed glee. Molly looked back at the crumbling mess of her mother, the lone figure bidding her farewell. Not so much bidding, really, as begging her to stay.

‘What will you do whilst I’m away?’ Molly asked. Guilt and uncertainty battled for space alongside the anger in her thoughts.

Fresh tears pooled at the edges of Joyce’s eyes. She drew in a long breath before she spoke. ‘Well with you out the way it seems a fine time to get on with the spring-cleaning. It hasn’t been done for a few years now …’

Joyce’s voice trailed away. Molly could see her thoughts playing on the lines of her face. Spring-clean time. Every year for Molly’s entire life Joyce had spent a week in early spring cleaning the house. Not just cleaning but sorting. Every room, every drawer, every cupboard. ‘Out with the old,’ Joyce would say in between dancing to West End show tunes on the CD player.

Spring had come and gone last year with no mention of the annual clean. Every room meant Billy’s room too.

‘Wait another week. I’ll help you do it this year. It’s only nine days.’ Molly forced a cheer into her voice she didn’t feel, never felt actually. Maybe getting away, even for a short time, would be good for both of them.

Molly loved her mum so much but more and more she was starting to feel suffocated by Joyce, the house, the cats, the grief, the insomnia, the searing acidic anger that dogged her thoughts and burned her insides. Like the time when she was nine and had tried to melt the cheese for cheese on toast in the microwave, but had forgotten about the foil lining the plate. The microwave had zapped and hissed and sparked, and Billy had run in from the garden and ripped out the plug from the wall socket before the whole thing had exploded.

That zapping. That was how her insides felt. Except Billy wasn’t here to save her any more. Billy would never be there again, and if she didn’t escape now, if she didn’t find an outlet for the anger, she would be the one exploding.

Molly didn’t care about the adventure, the Arctic, the sleds, or the Northern Lights. And she didn’t give a monkey’s about whatever bonding experience Erica thought they’d have. Erica could’ve offered her a ticket to Tinsley sewage works and she’d probably have taken it.

‘Excuse me?’ A woman in her early forties with long black hair broke free from the crowd beside them and tapped Molly on the shoulder. ‘Are you doing the husky challenge by any chance?’

Molly and Joyce nodded.

‘Right then, my lovely,’ the woman said, hooking her hand through Joyce’s arm and ignoring the fearful teary-eyed look on Joyce’s face. ‘You needn’t worry. I’m Laura Carney and my girls here are going on the same challenge. Frankie, Harry.’ She waved and the group parted, all eyes suddenly on Molly and Joyce.

Molly watched the blonde twins bounce over with the same broad smile as Laura. ‘Hi,’ they chorused.

‘This girl here is doing the challenge too. She’s a bit upset, aren’t you, love?’ Laura patted Molly’s arm with her free hand, the one that wasn’t holding Joyce’s arm and forcing her mum to remain upright and out of Molly’s reach. ‘I was just telling them that you’ll look out for …’

‘Molly,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s not me –’

‘Never mind, never mind,’ Laura said, cutting her off. ‘Let’s get you all through the gate now.’

Laura turned her eyes to Molly and winked. Up close, Molly could see the resemblance between Laura and her daughters. It wasn’t just the same bright skin and straight nose; it was the energy that seemed to radiate from them.

Molly stood for a moment, wanting to protest, wanting to tell this woman and the entire group with their patronizing smiles that she wasn’t the one upset; she was completely fine. It was her mum who needed the support. But watching Laura gripping Joyce’s arm, Molly realized this was her chance to go without a fuss.

‘Why don’t you and I go get a coffee?’ Laura said to Joyce. ‘The girls will text us when they’re through security, won’t you, girls?’

The twins nodded and grinned. One of the girls had a silver brace across her top teeth. As far as Molly could tell, that was the only difference between them. They both had natural white-blonde hair tied in a high ponytail, and curves that attracted the glances of passing men, even under combats and matching lilac fleeces.

‘Bye,’ one of the girls said, waving at the group and leaping forward to peck Laura’s cheek. ‘Bye, Mum,’ she said.

The other twin mimicked the action and a moment later Molly found herself swept along towards departures. She turned back to give her mum a reassuring wave, but Joyce was already lost in conversation with Laura and being steered towards the coffee shop.

‘Is your mum always like that?’ one of the twins asked Molly.

‘I’m all she’s got,’ Molly said. She gritted her teeth, forcing her defences down. ‘She’s probably crying on your mum’s shoulder right about now.’

‘Ah, Mum will be pleased.’ One of the girls smiled. ‘She’s always got her eye out for someone to rescue.’

‘True.’ The other twin grinned. ‘That and a karaoke bar. She can spot them a mile off.’

‘No wonder your mum was so upset though. I don’t think our family will notice we’re gone. Do you, Harry?’

Harry laughed, her brace glinting in the light. ‘They wouldn’t notice if I left, but if you went, they’d wonder where all the mess had gone.’

‘Nice of your friends and family to come see you off,’ Molly said.

‘Ha,’ Frankie said. ‘That was just family. We have an older brother, who’s married with two children – Dawson and Kayleigh – the ones with the balloons. They’re living back home whilst they save for a house of their own. Then there’s us. And when we were, like, ten our mum got pregnant again with our twin brothers. So as you can imagine our house is a madhouse, which is why we keep signing up for these charity challenges –’

‘Anything to get away.’ Harry laughed.

‘Last year we did Mount Kenya, and the year before that we climbed to Everest base camp,’ Frankie said.

‘Why don’t you tell Molly our bra size too?’ Harry said, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance.

‘I’m only being friendly. I know it’s an alien concept for you.’

‘God, you’re just like Mum. Next you’ll be opening a bottle of Prosecco and singing Lady Gaga to yourself in the kitchen.’

The girls continued batting light-hearted jibes back and forth, like a well-practised tennis rally, but Molly had stopped listening. The acidic anger was bubbling again, searing in the space under her ribs.

‘Have we got time for a drink before our flight?’ Frankie asked, scooping up her jacket and bag from the black plastic tray and stepping away from the security area.

‘Definitely,’ Harry replied. ‘Let’s hit the bar. Last chance for a week.’ They moved forward and stopped a pace in front of Molly. ‘You coming, Molly?’

‘Umm … I’m good. I’m meeting someone.’

They hesitated, their matching blue eyes sharing a look of concern.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Molly said. ‘I don’t need looking after. My mum was the one who was upset. I can take care of myself.’

‘We know.’ Frankie smiled and shrugged. ‘We’ll be in the bar if you change your mind.’

She wouldn’t.

The pain worsened as she moved from shop to shop, staring at everything and nothing. Molly knew she should call Erica, but she didn’t want to. What would be the point?

Molly fell into an empty row of chairs away from the central strip of shops and food outlets. She closed her eyes and drew in a long breath before exhaling, as if she could breathe the pain right out of her. The burning continued.

Molly pictured her mud-crusted running trainers, neglected and unused by the back door at home. How she craved to tighten the laces around her feet and dart out the back gate, into the fields and up to the peaks just like she’d done a thousand times with Billy, running a pace in front of her, urging her forward.

‘You’re going to be a champion runner, Mol,’ he used to call behind him whenever she’d started lagging. ‘You’re going to win gold in the Olympics.’

Anger spread through her veins. Her breath quickened. It had always been Molly and Billy and their mum. Molly saw her dad now and again, catching a lift in his taxi when she needed it, but he wasn’t part of them, not really. Even before she’d turned seven and her parents had separated, Molly couldn’t remember her dad sitting down with them at mealtimes, or playing games like her mum had always done.

Most days it seemed as though they were the only two people in the entire world now – Molly and her mum. It wasn’t fair. Billy had been the centre of their everything. He’d been their anchor. Without him, they were drifting in the dark. Molly was no champion without Billy. She was nothing without him.

Frankie and Harry had each other, and three brothers and two parents, and a niece and a nephew. All cheering them on. All healthy, all happy, all alive. And Molly had who? A mother half destroyed by grief and a half-sister she’d barely spoken to for the past year?

Molly gritted her teeth and hugged her stomach. She hated feeling this way. Hated what her life had become. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Molly tried to picture Billy’s face but her mind blanked.

‘There you are.’ Erica dropped down two seats away from Molly. ‘Excited?’

‘Not really,’ Molly said.

‘This is just what we need.’

‘Is it?’

Erica gave Molly a sideways glance, narrowing her eyes just like she’d done a thousand times over the years when Molly did or said something Erica didn’t approve of. Erica had always loved playing the all-knowing big sister role.

‘Did you remember to pack extra socks?’ Erica asked a moment later.

Molly puffed out a long breath of air before she spoke. ‘I’m not nine years old anymore.’

‘Don’t act like it then,’ Erica retorted and arched her back, stretching her arms above her head.

‘I’m not the one –’

‘Hey, Molly, our gate’s been called.’

Molly looked up to find Frankie and Harry standing at her feet.

‘We’ve been looking for you,’ Frankie said. ‘Time to go. Are you OK?’

Molly nodded and pulled herself up. Her head swam for a moment and the anger passed. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘This is Erica. She’s coming on the trip too.’

‘Hi,’ the girls chorused.

‘Hi.’ Erica smiled. ‘I’m Molly’s sister.’

Molly watched the quizzical look pass between Frankie and Harry as they took in Erica’s pale skin and dark red hair, then moved their gaze to Molly’s tight black curls springing from her head and down to her shoulders.

‘Half-sisters obviously,’ Molly mumbled. ‘We have the same waste-of-space dad.’

‘And the same freckles.’ Frankie waved a finger between Molly and Erica. Molly touched her nose, suddenly self-conscious of the dots that speckled the bridge of her nose. Billy had had them too. And just like that she saw his grinning face in her mind.

‘We’re gate five,’ Harry said.

Erica fell into step with the twins and got the same download from Frankie as Molly had received earlier, giving Molly the chance to drop back a pace.

What was she doing on this trip?

Why had she ever thought she’d be able to escape the burning anger, the pain, the memories? It was an illness, and Molly could travel ten times around the world and it still wouldn’t be far enough away to escape it.