30 Nights

1

LILY

"Ow, for the last time, stop it Tom," I shriek as yet another snowball hits me squarely in the face.

Tom laughs and ducks successfully as I scoop up a handful of the stuff off the top of a headstone and watch as it misses, sailing over the top of his head.

"Hey, at least, it makes you look like you have some colour," he shouts, sticking his tongue out at me. This time, my snowball hits him squarely in the groin. And laughing, he leaps towards me, tackling me to the wet, cold ground before I can get another hit in.

I put on my best sulky face but in the end can't help smiling despite the icky wet. Only Tom can get away with a joke like that. After years of merciless bullying, I am finally accepting how I look and that I look different from most people. Albino. I hate the word but that's what I am. White hair everywhere, yes everywhere, even my eyelashes are white when they are not covered in black mascara. My eyes are the palest blue, not that many people see them as I always have glasses on, and they are usually shades as I'm hyper sensitive to sunlight and my vision is not the greatest. Another great side-effect, the thick chunky glasses and white hair did me a load of favours growing up.

But then I met Tom, who also never really fitted in, he knew from a young age he was gay and we've helped each other accept who we are. When Tom and our friend Olivia got into the whole emo thing, weirdly I was accepted too. The emo set think I look beyond cool because the grey / white blonde hair thing is apparently really in right now. I vary my hair colour though, it was pale lilac but it's nearly all washed out. Sometimes it's pink, sometimes pastel blue, once rainbow colours.

"Let's do snow angels," says Tom, snapping me back into the moment.

"In the middle of a cemetery, er, no," I say. The whole emo thing is why we are standing in London's biggest cemetery, Highgate, on a Saturday afternoon. We'd had the visit planned for weeks, so even when the snow came down Tom and Olivia thought it would be even better here.

I've not been to many graveyards but this is impressive, well breathtaking. This place is a whole village, a city of the dead. Everything still, frozen, so sad but so beautiful. The tour guide showed us all the famous people's graves, I'd heard of Karl Marx, but not heard of many others. Still I've never seen headstones like it, there are crypts, whole families cold and buried together. It sent shivers down my spine, that had nothing to do with the snow. I imagine lying here frozen for decades next to my soul mate and true love, our bones forever entwined, there was something romantic about this whole place, this garden of the dead. Tom and Olivia are besides themselves in emo heaven, selfies every two seconds, even though the tour guide keeps scowling at them.

We walk away from the circle of crypts past the enormous tree that's in the centre. As we walk away I see another stone angel, but this is a little girl, her stone hands covering her eyes. So many of the stone angels here are covering their eyes and I wonder why. Perhaps death is so sad, so final, and like us they cannot bear to see it.

It is getting dusk by the time the tour is finished. And depressingly it's only 3.30pm. God I hated winter. Although summer wasn't much better for me, I like the sun and the warmth but my skin doesn't. So I was always smothered in sunscreen or layers of clothing.

"Why don't we head to winter wonderland for a few hours," says Olivia.

"Really," I moan. "Can't we go somewhere and get warm, I'm done with being outside."

"Ugh, you're such a wuss Lily," says Tom. "How about we go to Starbucks, I saw one near the station, and then we'll get the tube. Our little ice princess should be warmed up by then." Olivia rolls her eyes and I tut, but Starbucks does sound good.

I'm tempted to ditch them but I promised my mum about a thousand times I wouldn't travel back by myself. It's ridiculous though, anyone would think I'm 13 not 17. I put my hand in my pocket and that's when I notice it - no ticket and no wallet. Crap!

"I've lost my wallet and tube ticket," I groan.

"What? Lily, not again! Have you checked everywhere?" Tom stops to give me his bossy look.

"Yes, I'm sure," I snap. "I may have dodgy eyes, but I'm not stupid. It's probably from where you pushed me over in the snow. Near that circle of crypts."

"Well, you're never going to find it now, I'll lend you some money," he says.

I look around me, the gate to the cemetery hasn't shut yet. This will be the third time I've lost my wallet and bank cards. I really don't want to give my mum any more reason to treat me like a kid. And I had £20 in there. I was sure it must have fallen out when Tom pushed me over, that was right by that huge angel and crypt.

"Go to Starbucks, I'll meet you there," I say.

"What, you can't go back in there?" Tom says, Olivia is just flicking through her phone, completely oblivious.

"I'll be ten minutes tops, I'm pretty sure I know where it fell out, order me a caramel latte please," and I sprint off before they can stop me. I run straight through the gate, and I see the tour guide whip his head around and yell at me to come back.

"I've dropped something, I'll be ten minutes," I shout, still running, before he can stop me.

"But you can't," he shouts, "come back, we have to close now."

***

Ten minutes comes and goes and I'm panting and out of breath, with literally no idea where I am. It is getting darker and darker, and I can see the moon, round and full. And increasingly it's the main light in here. I take my phone out and flip the torch on. No signal. Of course, great. What was I thinking, how did I expect to find my wallet on the ground, in the snow and in the dark. I'm so stupid sometimes. I just didn't want to have to admit to my mum I'd lost something else.

I take a deep breath and a step forward. I look around me, I have to trace the way I came. Right now it feels there is no way out but I know for a fact this place can't be that big. You got in, you'll get out, I tell myself. Just stay calm and keep walking. So I do, guided by my flashlight. I think about shouting out, maybe that tour guide is looking for me. Or maybe he thought screw you, locked the gate and went home, a voice in my head thinks. I can't bring myself to scream though, it doesn't seem right here, like being in a library.

Then I see a little stone angel girl out of the corner of my eye and I take a step forward, and ahead, finally, is the circle of crypts. I might as well check now for my wallet, so I wander over, kicking the snow off the ground with my foot.

But a loud bang makes me jolt and before I know it, a scream has left my throat. Because the stone door of one of the crypts has swung open and a man has lept out. His eyes are wild, hair a mess, in shreds of clothes like a tramp. I don't think I will ever forget the look on his face. He leaps towards me, arms outstretched.

"Help me, please, help me," he begs. Before I can say or do anything though, in a blink of an eye another man appears. There is the most horrible crunch and the man's eyes roll backwards and he falls to the ground, his head lolling at the most awful angle. I don't need to keep staring at him to know he is dead, but I do, I can't wrench my eyes away.

After what feels like the longest moment in the world, I look away and I find myself staring into the face of a young man. Even in this dark light, I can see he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. His eyes are weird though, amber, almost glowing in this darkness as he walks slowly towards me. He reaches out to me, and I don't flinch, I just gape at him. He pulls my glasses off my face and stares down at me. He moves some strands of hair out of my eyes, dusting the snow off my hair, his fingers as cold as ice.

"Are you real?" He whispers.