My Name Is Echo Read online

  ‘Is that what always happens, or did I nearly die?’

  He reassured me. ‘You’re okay, Echo. You fainted because of exhaustion, cold and the shock of nearly drowning.’

  I asked him again about Ifan. ‘Are you sure you didn’t see Ifan? He wore shorts and when his hair falls into his eyes, he flicks it back. Like this.’ I showed him by jerking my head back.

  ‘No’, he said, but I could see him looking at me in a peculiar way.

  ‘Was there anything in the papers or on the news?’

  ‘No.’

  I said, ‘That’s strange, where can he be? We were both on the raft.’

  ‘Perhaps he was taken to another hospital,’ Gareth said. I looked at him doubtfully, but I could see that, unlike my mother, he wanted to help. We went to the hospital records department and Gareth asked whether a boy called Ifan had come in, but they weren’t able to find his name. The trouble was I didn’t have his full name, although in a moment of inspiration I gave them ‘Baranov’ but there was no one with that surname. Everybody was recorded by their surname, first name, date of birth or post code, but there was nothing. Even date and time of arrival didn’t reveal anything. They suggested another hospital but it was miles away and I could never get there.

  I was beginning to feel weird again. My name was on the records so I knew I hadn’t imagined things and if I’d survived I wanted Ifan to have survived too. I refused to consider that maybe he had drowned. Gareth suggested ringing up the other hospital when we got back which was a good idea. Then he asked what I wanted to do so I said I’d like to go back to the creek to get my bike. We drove there and he parked his car on the road outside the wood. I wanted to show him where it all started so we walked along the path until we reached the river. Looking at the water brought it all back. I thought I was going to pass out but I didn’t tell Gareth. I just said this was where we’d pushed the raft into the water but the current caught us and everything got out of control.

  Neither did I tell him what we’d done before getting on the pontoon. That was a secret. When I’d first woken up in the hospital I’d dreamt about how exciting it had been when I’d taken off my clothes for him and how touching him made him come. That made him special but made me miss him even more.

  But then I got into something weird. Had we nearly drowned as a punishment? When I was little, my mother read me stories about the river gods in Greece. They were really myths but people believed in them. Perhaps they’d been right after all, there were river gods and Ifan had been taken by them. But I said nothing of these thoughts. I acted normal.

  ‘When you were walking along the river and you saw me standing on the sand bank, did you look all around?’

  Gareth said, ‘You were on your own,’ but he gave me a look as if I were mad.

  I decided not to ask any more questions ever, or show I was worried, because although I liked Gareth, on this count he’d allied himself with my mother, and so I couldn’t trust him. We walked back through the trees until I got to the place where I’d hidden my bike. By then I’d decided not to show him Ifan’s den because it was our private place. I told him I was going to hang around for a few more minutes before I cycled back and I promised not to go on the river. I thanked him again and he drove off.

  What I actually wanted to do was to check out the den and see what had happened to our picnic which we’d planned to eat when we returned from crossing the river. The brown paper bags were still there with the sandwich, the apple and banana but they were untouched.

  My eyes filled with tears. I’d been hoping Ifan would have left me a note if he’d been rescued, but there was nothing.

  The den looked the same as always. Minus Ifan. I sat down on a log and contemplated what had happened over the past two days. It was strange for him to disappear like this. I decided when I got back to the farm to write him a note and leave it in the den tomorrow. I’d also phone the other hospital to see whether they had any records of him.

  I realised then I didn’t know where he lived. I didn’t even know for sure his surname, although in the hospital I’d guessed his name might be Baranov, it hadn’t helped. It occurred to me that knowing so little about a friend was strange. We’d made the woods and the creek our world and nothing important existed outside of that. But now he was missing I was lost. I tramped all through the woods hoping I’d see him. I called out his name. I listened for his voice but I heard nothing. I gave up and I was close to tears as I cycled back to the farm.

  It was late by the time I got back. They wanted to know where I’d been. I’d totally forgotten Philomena and Gaby were making a meal for me and my mother would expect me to be on my best behaviour, but they were alright about me being late. I wasn’t told off. We sat down to eat and I told them about the raft and how we nearly drowned. I left Ifan out of it and just said a friend had made the raft. I was beginning to feel something strange was going on and I didn’t want to be looked at pityingly all over again.

  Everyone was kind, even my mother. She restrained from wise-cracking at my expense. In fact while we were at the farm, I’d noticed she was a nicer woman, possibly because she was doing what she liked best, painting, and with people on the same wave length and she wasn’t having to teach the classics to pupils who weren’t interested.

  I went to bed early that night but before I went to sleep I decided to write the note for Ifan. I’d take it with me tomorrow when I went back to the den. I sat pondering what to say and decided the shorter the better. After all, I didn’t want to frighten him off by coming over as a bit strong. I wrote:

  Hi Ifan,

  I hope you’ve recovered from the ordeal on the river. I’m alright and I’m looking forward to seeing you again as usual. I plan to come Wednesday.

  Your friend, Echo.

  I put it in an envelope, sealed it, and put that into a plastic bag to protect it from rain.

  That night I had a nightmare. I dreamt I was on the sand spit again and I was about to die. In the dream I was looking across the river at Ifan and as I watched, he faded away. He disappeared in front of my eyes and as he did, the water rose round me and I was swept away. I was struggling to keep my head clear of all the flotsam and jetsam. No rescue vehicles came. I woke up crying. As I lay there I started thinking about Ifan and cried even more.

  I remembered a song my mum used to sing to me when I was very little which made me happy. I began humming it quietly. It’s called ‘The Waters of March’.

  I couldn’t get back to sleep. Finally I dragged myself out of bed about six and after a quick breakfast I let myself out of the house. No one was up, not even Gareth.

  I had to see if Ifan was at the den. The night’s dream had left me feeling wobbly, as if there was a catastrophe about to happen. I had to go to the estuary but I was even beginning to doubt if that existed. Nothing seemed real anymore and it felt as if I were awake in a dream.

  I cycled down the lanes to the estuary. I left my bike in the usual place and wandered down the path heading towards the river. It was there. It wasn’t a dream. I sat down on a fallen tree trunk and watched the sun rise over the water and the light play with the shadows, but my mood was changing. The path through the woods looked sinister, as if it led to another mysterious world, but one that was threatening. I remembered how frightening the river had been. It was as if a hateful river god had been unleashed and had hitched a ride with us, but we had survived; or at least, I had.

  I walked slowly back to the den. I almost didn’t go inside because I didn’t want to face Ifan’s absence. I stood looking at the hollowed-out area we’d made in the middle of the bushes. Soon the tendrils of an invading blackberry bush would snake across the grass until all traces of our secret place would be obliterated and it would be possessed by the forest again. I wondered again whether what had happened had been real or if it existed only in my mind, but another part knew it hadn’t been imagined.
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  I searched for somewhere to leave my note and decided on a place under some dense undergrowth. I didn’t want to stay any longer. I felt lonely and it reminded me of how I used to feel before I met him. I was close to tears but I forced myself not to cry. I couldn’t accept he’d gone and I still believed he’d turn up.

  It was lunchtime when I got back and Philomena and Gaby were chatting round the kitchen table. I asked where the others were and Gaby told me Gareth had gone out and my mum was still painting and hadn’t wanted to stop. She gestured to me to sit next to her and share lunch. They were drinking Moroccan tagine soup with homemade thick slices of sour dough bread. It was delicious but I didn’t feel like talking and neither was I in the mood to listen to their conversation. I was in a world of my own, my mind drifting to thoughts of Ifan.

  I heard Gaby ask if I’d recovered from my adventure. I said I had, but I forgot I’d vowed never to speak of Ifan again so I asked Philomena how well she knew the people who lived round there.’

  ‘Pretty well, we’ve lived here for about twelve years.’

  ‘Have you ever come across a boy with straight blond hair that falls into his eyes?’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘who is he?’

  ‘A friend. He was on the pontoon with me but he’s disappeared. I thought I’d see him at the creek when I came out of hospital, but he’s missing.’

  ‘Sorry, I can’t help. I’m sure he’ll turn up. Have you rung the hospital?’

  ‘No, but Gareth asked at hospital records. They didn’t know.’

  ‘He could live in the mountains on a remote farm. Does he speak Welsh?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘Well, knowing that might help. Sorry, I don’t know many Welsh-speaking families but the way you describe him, I’d remember him.’

  I felt my eyes fill with tears. I left the kitchen before they noticed. Finding him seemed a hopeless task. I stood in the hallway wondering what to do when I heard Philomena speak.

  ‘You know Gareth’s worried about Echo. She almost drowned, and he thinks it’s been more traumatic than we realise and it’s affected her memory. You know, the boy she’s just asked about, the one she called Ifan?’

  Gaby said, ‘What did she tell him?’

  ‘That he disappeared off the raft while she had her eyes closed. He thinks she made him up, but the more he says he didn’t see him, the more upset she becomes.’

  I stood frozen to the spot and waited to hear what would come next. I didn’t like them talking about me.

  Gaby spoke. ‘Well, she’s a lonely child. She’s deep too. I wonder sometimes what’s going on in her head. It’s a shame she and her mother don’t get on. I don’t know what that’s all about. But I like her.’

  ‘Yes, Gareth and I do, but what makes her tick, it’s difficult to say. I guess it’s her age, coming through puberty in this day and age…it’s a tough call. But she lives in her own world and what she does all day, it’s hard to know.’

  ‘She reminds me of a boy at the school where I teach. He was a bright child but when he reached adolescence he became more and more withdrawn… We had a meeting about him, and it turned out five years previously his parents had been killed in a car crash and as there were no suitable relatives, he’d been placed with foster parents. It happened before he came to our school, but no one thought to tell us. It turned out he spent his waking hours thinking about an “imaginary friend”, one that kept him company and that’s why he was withdrawn.’

  ‘Really. So are you saying he created his own world in his mind and that was more real than the real? That’s interesting…but sad.’

  ‘Yes, had you heard of this?’

  ‘No, but it’s fascinating what children do.’

  ‘Usually, they grow out of it. It’s part of growing up for some children.’

  Philomena laughed, ‘Well, not so different from ourselves.’ I was furious. I didn’t like what I’d heard. I knew for certain Ifan existed and I resented them thinking he was made up and I was mad. I stomped loudly back up the stairs and went to my bedroom. I was in a bad mood all day. From then on I was determined to find Ifan. I’d prove he existed.

  I didn’t come down for the rest of the day. I put a notice on the door saying I was writing my diary and not to disturb, and ignored them when they knocked and asked me to come down and eat. I wrote down everything I could remember, starting with my mother finding Philomena’s notice in the paper, the interview, finding the estuary, meeting Ifan and the river adventure. All I left out was what we did before trying to cross the river because that was private.

  In the evening they called me again. I didn’t want to go but I had to because my mother came to my bedroom and made such a fuss, saying how unsociable I was, in the end I went. I was pissed off, I didn’t feel like talking and was still annoyed by what I’d overheard, so when anyone spoke to me I glowered at them.

  My mother said, ‘Take no notice of Echo, she’s sulking. Just ignore her.’

  That really wound me up. I stood up, and snarled, ‘Fuck off…what do you know about me? Nothing, so put a sock in it.’ I noisily pushed the chair backwards so it scraped on the tiled floor and left the kitchen. As I walked past the ostrich, I knocked his hat off, caught it, spun it across the table at Gareth, and shouted, ‘Quick, catch it, Gareth.’ They fell silent and looked at their food with the exception of my mother. She looked daggers at me. I couldn’t have cared less. I slammed the door behind me.

  I ran up the stairs to my bedroom and lay on my bed. I couldn’t stop laughing at the look on their faces when I threw the hat. Ifan would have found it funny, but he’d gone. That made me sad all over again. Maybe, I thought, I should visit the estuary again. Perhaps he’d died or was trapped somewhere and they couldn’t tell me. But if he was dead he was sure to be a friendly ghost and would appreciate a visit from me. The more I thought about it the more I wanted to go. I remembered my last visit and the strange atmosphere. It was as if someone was waiting for me. Maybe that was the spirit of Ifan.

  I had to go. Soon we’d be returning to London and I’d be back at school and it would be another year until we came to Wales again. I couldn’t wait that long. I had to find out before I left. I’d go after they’d drunk a bit and got rowdy, because then they wouldn’t notice my absence. First though I’d act normal and tell them I was going to bed early. I’d play the ‘mad’ card and say I was still upset from nearly drowning. The idea made me laugh. It was the kind of a reverse double bluff that Ifan would have appreciated and would have laughed at too.

  I waited until about ten and walked into the kitchen. They were still sitting round the table and on their third bottle. My mother gave me a filthy look. There was no sign of Gareth. I asked where he’d gone. Philomena said she didn’t know but he’d gone off somewhere in his car.

  ‘Is he coming back?’ I said.

  She looked pissed off and whispered, ‘I hope so,’ and I noticed her look away. I liked her and I could see she was upset. She was looking uncertain, which wasn’t like her at all so I winked at her, like she’d winked at me once, and said in a perky way, ‘Well, when you see him, tell him I want to ask him something, okay?’

  She said, ‘Can I help?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘not really. I don’t want to be rude. It’s Gareth I need to speak to. It doesn’t matter. It can wait.’

  The truth was I’d noticed Gareth had taken to going out a lot and I wanted to know where he was going all the time. I was curious. He seemed to be out more than he’d ever been and I wondered if he had a lover. If so, and Philomena suspected him, that would explain why she was looking a little down.

  Just as I was about to leave the room, I noticed paper scattered all over the table with writing and drawings on them. ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

  My mother at that point deigned to speak civilly. She said proudly, ‘We’re planning an ex
hibition of our work for next year.’

  I said, ‘Bloody hell, that’s impressive. Here or in London?’

  ‘Here, we thought Wales.’

  I asked what kind of exhibition and my mother said, ‘It’ll have the theme of “Women and Surrealism”.’

  I said ‘Oh,’ thought for a while and then said, ‘Like that Dorothea Tanning picture? But do you think people will know what that means?’ They went quiet. ‘I’m only saying that because if I don’t know other people won’t know.’

  No one answered so I finished off by saying, ‘I think the title needs changing. It’s a bit obscure, if you don’t mind my saying.’ It was the first time I’d used that word and I felt proud of myself. There was another silence so before anyone could speak I scarpered, and as I left I called out, ‘See you in the morning. Work hard.’ I didn’t care if they were annoyed; after all they’d annoyed me.

  I went up to my bedroom and stared moodily out of the window. It was pitch black outside. It didn’t look inviting. Maybe I should cancel the trip and just go to bed. Then I thought of Ifan. Perhaps he was waiting for me and I couldn’t let him down. I wanted to be faithful to his memory. But it was still a hassle cycling to the estuary and I didn’t even know if the bike had lights. I did have a torch though, which I used for going to the loo at night because I didn’t like snapping on the lights and waking everyone up.

  I got the torch out of the drawer, put on my hoodie and stood at the top of the stairs, listening carefully. I had to be sure the women were busy before I left. They were talking and laughing. They’d recovered. I made my way down the stairs towards the back entrance. The door was rarely locked at night but to make doubly sure I could get back in, I left one of the ground-floor windows open. It was warm that night so it was unlikely anyone would close it.

  I wheeled my bike down the gravel path to the lane and cycled towards the estuary. The bike didn’t have lights, but there was no traffic and I could see because the moon was bright that night. I was sure I was going to see Ifan. I don’t know why I was so sure, but when I did see him I planned to ask if he’d recovered and why he was avoiding me. I cycled so fast it didn’t take long to reach the place where I hid my bike.