Four Coins

Eva didn’t have a waterproof, or a sleeping bag, or a tent, or even a basic torch.

She had her school rucksack, and inside it four things: a sheet of builder’s plastic folded down to the size of a book, five metres of rope, a jumper and a spoon. Four coins in her pocket and a cat.

With those few bits and pieces she’d headed into the woods, at night, in the rain. She thought it was perfectly normal.

She was still so furious about the closed door that when the rain got heavier, she lifted her face and walked faster.

“We doing all right, Fay?” The cat was out in front, a pale blur in the dark, stopping every so often to check she was still following.

Behind her, above the trees, you could still make out the glow of the city. She had her back to it.

She spent a couple of hours walking at a good pace behind that little white patch, without thinking about anything.

Until she remembered the night she’d found Fay, the same night she’d left home, a year and a half earlier. Before that she’d spent six years stuck in a flat with her older sister, who behaved just as badly as their parents, if not worse.

“I don’t care what you want! In this house we do what I say, end of!” She remembered the scene, her sister snapping the bamboo flute she’d made herself.

She saw her parents arguing again. Always arguing. Her whole life had been nothing but that: rushing, timetables, piano exams, the right clothes. And for what?

She also remembered the green plastic sheet strung between two trees, the smoke getting up the sleeve of her fleece and a big hand showing her a knot her fingers still knew how to tie fourteen years later. She pushed the memory away at once.

And Fay, miaowing on his own in the middle of a street at three in the morning: the only good thing that happened to her that day.

She trod on a sharp stone, swore and stopped to look around. The glow of the city had vanished behind the trees. She didn’t even have that to find her bearings by any more.

The only light was the moon, tucked in behind the clouds, just enough to see the mud and not enough to see where she was going.

And that’s where the anger ran out. Just like that, all at once, the way petrol runs out.

She knew how to make a shelter: tying the plastic sheet between two branches would take no time. Spending the night underneath it in wet clothes, chilled to the bone, was another matter. She was hungry and tired and no longer even knew where she was. She’d rather keep walking until she reached a village.

What was she doing there? What the fuck was she doing there, up in the hills, soaked through and in the dark?

She felt her pocket. Her four coins were still there, jingling. In any town they’d get you a sandwich and a coffee.

Out here they were no use at all. There was nobody to give them to. There was nothing.

She felt something warm on her foot and looked down. Fay, every bit as soaked and bedraggled as she was, was licking her toes one by one as if he had all the time in the world.

Eva puffed out her cheeks and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

“Come on, Fay. We’re not stopping here.”

The cat shook the water off in one go and set off. But not down the track.

He headed for the trees, into the pitch black of the woods.

“Hey, hey. Where are you going?” Eva stayed at the edge of the track. “Not that way, silly.”

Fay stopped where the mud ended and the undergrowth began. He stared at her and turned his head towards the trees a couple of times, quite certain that was the way to go.

“No, Fay. I trust you, but that’s enough adventure for one day, please.”

The cat didn’t move.

“We’ll ask in the village tomorrow. A lad with a massive rucksack. Someone’ll have seen him.”

Fay looked at the trees for another moment before giving up and returning to the path. Eva followed that little white patch for the rest of the night. At least the rain was easing off.