Page 19 of The Fall I Fell

‘One wolf costume, one kitten costume, and one red Power Ranger.’ Granny stood up from her sewing machine, a little sweat beading on her upper lip as she handed each of us our costumes before collapsing into her armchair. ‘Now, next time you decide you want outfits for you Halloween party, please give me a bit more notice than the night before.’

Granny was a wizard when it came to sewing. She could turn old bedsheets, old clothes, and scraps of fabric into the most amazing outfits or costumes. It’s like her hands didn’t hurt her when she was sliding materials through the machine, her ankles weren’t so swollen as she pressed the pedals. Her fingers managed to wind up the bobbins with such speed and perfection, it’s amazing to think she was the same woman that could only use one finger to type on a keyboard. That sewing machine wasn’t just a sewing machine, I was sure of it. It was a time machine, and whenever she sat down at it, she was young again.

‘Thank you, Granny.’ I kissed her on the cheek and skipped out of the house with two of the costumes slung over my shoulder.

‘Knock knock,’ I said as I reached the treehouse. Jacob was already inside, his nose buried in a book. At the sound of my voice, he slammed it shut and offered me his full attention.

‘You came!’ Jacob clambered to his feet and grinned so wide that I could see he’d lost another tooth.

‘I brought you a present.’ My smile matched his as I drew the wolf costume from behind my back. ‘I asked Granny to make you one like mine, so we can match. But mine is a cat, of course.’

‘Mine’s a wolf?’ he asked with wide-eyed excitement. When I nodded, he pulled me into a tight hug ‘This is the best thing in the world.’ He held it up to admire it. ‘Thank you, Kitty.’

‘It was Granny that made it.’ I laughed, trying my hardest to not let my cheeks turn too red. ‘Well, she let me hand sew the ears, that’s why they’re a little bit wonky.’

‘They’re perfect.’ He grinned, and raced to put them on his head, ‘I think you should come to our Halloween party every year, and every year from now we will match.’

‘Deal.’ I smiled, fiddling with the bottom of my costume.

Once Jacob was dressed, we climbed down from the treehouse and made our way to the farm, both of us with an extra spring in our steps as I prowled on my hands and feet, and Jacob, as soon as the night began to fall, howled at the glowing moon.

Just as Jacob told me, Will was the only one not in a costume when we reached the barn. He stood beside Dave Thorogood at the barbecue overseeing the turning of the sausages, and scolded Alfie every time he ran too close in his Dracula cape. Lizzie was covered head to toe in glow sticks that I assumed were left out for the whole party to enjoy, but she wandered around like a lighthouse with neon bangles the whole way up her arms.

‘Look at you two, eh.’ Jacob’s mum pinched at his wolf ear and he brushed her off with a growl. She had her face painted like a skull and a fake axe wedged into the top of her head. ‘Very scary. I hope you cool cats and dogs—’

‘Wolves!’ Jacob corrected her.

‘Sorry, I hope you cool cats and wolves aren’t too busy scaring the neighbours to do some apple bobbing? I’ve got a pin the wart on the witch for later, and mummies too.’ Her face lit up at the mention of her party games.

‘Mummies?’ I said and Sian only grinned wider, as though she was hoping someone would ask her more.

‘Yep, I’ve pinched some toilet rolls from the loo, and you have to work in pairs to wrap up your partner until they look like a mummy.’ She held her hands out in front of her and let out a deep groan before snapping back into her broad smile and pinching me on the cheeks. ‘Oops, looks like we’ve ran out of brains on the buffet.’

She scurried back off to the table to replenish it, and Jacob must have noticed my look of disgust, ‘Don’t worry, they’re not real. It’s just pink jelly. She’s got some moulds to make them look like brains.’

‘Thank god.’ I breathed. ‘Would you be my partner? For the games I mean.’

‘I’ll always be your partner, Kitty. Only if you’re the one getting wrapped up though.’

Jacob and I lost all of the games. Will, despite saying they’re all for babies, won the prize every single time and Alfie spent the rest of the evening sulking by the bonfire. That was until his older brother clearly felt a little guilty and challenged him to a rematch, that Alfie won without much of a struggle. Jacob didn’t seem to mind losing though. He danced with me through the barn, a toffee apple picked from the orchard wedged between his jaws, as he skipped around howling at the moon. For that night, he really was a wolf. He was completely and utterly wild, and allowed to be. And of course, I followed on his tail, leaping over hay bales, and crawling between bags of grain until we found a pile spilled, and instead of sweeping it aside, Jacob pulled me down to lie beside him as we made snow angels in the kernels.

I knew then that Jacob was the most interesting person I had ever met. I could follow him in silence, just doing as he did, and find every moment thrilling. I think I admired him back then, and I wanted to be just like him. I’m not sure when my admiration blossomed into love. Perhaps it was love the whole time, but all I knew at eleven years old was that being close to Jacob Thorogood was where I was happiest.

Chapter 11

Now

Those are the words that grab my attention in the subject line of my emails. It’s an email I’ve been refreshing my inbox for weeks waiting for. It’s an email that’s kept me up at night just thinking about. An email that I can’t now bring myself to open.

What if I’ve been rejected? Milan and fashion were my only plans, the only thing I’ve ever been sure on. I have no back up plan, I have no alternative options. Yes, I’ve technically applied to several other unis, but what is the point if it’s not Milan? A degree in Fashion Design from Nottingham Trent hardly has the same ring to it. And if I get rejected, it won’t only be me I’ve let down – what about Granny? It’s all because of her that I know how to sew, all because of her that I can express myself through fabric and garments, all because of her that I had any sort of confidence to chase my dreams. If I fall at the first hurdle, all of Granny’s lessons would be all for nothing. I can’t let that happen.

But what if I’ve been accepted? Three years in Milan … alone. Could I handle it? Could I leave Callum behind? Or Mum? Or Dad? Or Grandad? My adventures have only ever been fantasy, made up dreams of woodland escapades or transatlantic voyages. The truth is, all of those quests that Jacob and I filled our heads with for a decade were never real. We never ran off into the forest to live like wolves, or escaped any further than the edge of this village. Our adventures always ended before it got dark, and we were always home for tea. What if I’m not as brave as I thought I was?

I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at the screen of my laptop, but my eyes grow tired from the strain, and I still can’t will my finger to click on it. In times like these, it would be Granny I’d run to. She’d know what to say. At least, after I explained what an email was, she would. If I was scared, Granny always knew what to say. Like one half term when we came up and I forgot my nightlight at home. Granny stayed up with me, telling me stories of good monsters and kind ghosts, until I fell asleep. From that day on, I loved the dark.

The sound of footsteps outside of my bedroom door finally forces me to break eye contact with my computer screen. I can tell from the long, rushed strides that they’re Mum’s. She never does anything slowly. Everything she does, she’s in a hurry, whether that’s work or the laundry or even on her runs. She always goes so quickly that it’s a wonder she hasn’t run out of steam yet. Maybe being here will make her finally slow down and smell the flowers, as Granny used to say.

Tucking my laptop under my arm, I drag open the bedroom door and follow the direction of her footsteps. I don’t want to do this alone. I need someone to tell me that no matter what, it will be okay, and I need my mum, now more than ever. She’s in her own room at the end of the hall, the door left ajar, but as I lift my hand to knock, her voice floats through the open crack.