Laurie Ellingham - Ours is the Winter - a gripping story of love, friendship and adventure

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.