When I was twelve, I saw Tally die.
We both had an evening paper round. She did one side of Ditchling Road and I did the other. I had the odd numbers, she had the evens.
Ditchling Road is a steep hill road in a coastal town. It stretches upwards from the seafront to the farthest end of town. It's about three miles long. We liked to start at the top of the hill and work our way down towards the sea..
We'd collect our bags of newspapers at about four, then cycle up Ditchling Road, sometimes racing each other, most often not. Then we'd sit on one of the golf course benches, eating chocolates and talking. We could see the sea from where we sat. Sometimes, if I'd brought my radio, we'd listen to music. At five we'd start our deliveries, Tally on the left, me on the right. The first one back at the shop bought the other one something, sweets, stickers, cards, bubble gum, whatever. It wasn't so much what it was, more that it was. It was one of our deals.
Tally was pretty. Her full name was Natalia Brown, but she preferred Tally. She was tall and had long, dark hair she tied up in a ponytail. She was also very adventurous, more than anyone else I knew. She would do the most incredibly dangerous things, just so that she could say she had done them. Most of the time, Tally was the only person to have done a certain thing. She was a natural trailblazer. For example, when the pond in Hollingbury Park froze over, Tally was the only one who dared to walk across it at its widest point. I watched her breathlessly, hearing the pinging and cracking of ice beneath her as she fearlessly stepped from one bank to the other. Nothing fazed her.
So, when she mentioned climbing the pylon, I knew she meant it, and I knew she'd do it, no matter what I said.
It was a hot summer's day. We were on the golf course bench, prior to delivering the papers. We'd eaten chocolate, talked, listened to some radio music and gazed at the sea, watching the tankers, ferries and yachts sail from one side of the horizon to the other. Our bikes were nearby, the newspaper bags slung over the handlebars.
Tally pointed to a nearby pylon.
“I'm going to climb that,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Aren't pylons dangerous?” I asked, knowing my question was a futile way of trying to deter Tally's course of action.
Tally nodded.
“Of course they are,” she said. There'd be no point in climbing them if they were perfectly safe. Where's the thrill in that?”
This was the usual Tally counter-argument, the one she'd always use prior to doing exactly what she wanted.
She got up and strode towards the towering pylon. I followed her, exhorting her not to take risks. As I pleaded, I looked carefully at her chosen challenge.
It was imposing. A strut-crossed giant metal spider carrying death in its six web strands. No, not imposing, downright scary.
Tally clambered up the nearest steel leg, reaching out for the first diagonal strut. She grabbed it and hauled herself up. After that, her progress was fast and easy and I watched her ascend into the summer sky, silhouetted against a backdrop of beautiful pale blue air. She climbed to just below the brooding insulators and stopped. She looked down and called my name. I waved. She waved back.
A gigantic blue spark that looked like an eel leapt from one of the cables and disappeared into her chest.
Tally shrieked and jerked, then fell backwards from her precarious perch, turning slowly and gracefully in the air. She hit the ground with a muted thud.
Terrified, I ran to her crumpled form, calling her name over and over again. I slid to a stop on my knees and looked at her carefully. She was pale and still. The chain link bracelet I'd given her was fused into a solid band around her wrist, leaving burn marks where it had touched her skin.
“Tally!” I cried desperately. “Tally! Wake up!”
Nothing. No movement, no sound.
I touched her forehead. It was hot. I ran to my bike and grabbed a newspaper. I ran back and started fanning her with it.
She opened her eyes.
“Stop doing that,” she said sleepily.
I stopped and laughed hysterically. She closed her eyes again, resting on the green.
“I thought you were dead,” I said quietly.
Tally opened her eyes.
“I think I was,” she said, clambering slowly to her feet, using me as a support. As she brushed herself down, she noticed her bracelet. She held it out for me to see and looked at me in a strange way, her eyes full of an intense something.
