Nick hunkered down in the shop doorway, head dipped against the biting wind, freezing hands stuffed into his pockets. Richard was late, and Nick longed for the days he used to be able to call for his best friend and be invited into his home. That was in the days before he was arrested. Before he received a suspended sentence for ABH, for what happened with his dad. Richard said it didn’t matter: his parents didn’t judge him. He’d explained to them there were extenuating circumstances. At nineteen, Richard sounded like the solicitor he was determined to be. Still, Nick had felt the frosty disapproval of Richard’s dad. He had noticed the way Richard’s mum didn’t quite make eye contact with him any more, and he’d wondered whether he would always be judged on that night. It hardly seemed fair. He’d told his boss at the supermarket about his conviction, and the very next day he’d been ‘let go’. It was coincidental, apparently. Due to cutbacks, he said, but Nick didn’t believe that. He didn’t know how he’d ever be anything now except sad and angry. From the chip shop next door a whiff of vinegar drifted towards Nick, mingling with the smell of hot fat, and his stomach grumbled. He wished he could bite on crunchy batter, taste the soft white fish inside, the chip paper warming his lap, but he was skint.
The purr of an engine caused Nick to twist his neck and peer down the road but it wasn’t Richard in the BMW he’d got for his birthday. Nick huffed out white air. His fingertips would be too cold to grip the steering wheel when Richard gave him another driving lesson around the old industrial estate. He could do three-point turns now and almost parallel park. Richard said he’d be ready for his test soon and that would be another step towards freedom. The atmosphere at home was thick with the things that were never talked about. Nick’s dad’s face had healed and his mum, thinner than ever, glided through the house like a ghost. You’d almost think that night had never happened if it weren’t for the way Dad never quite looked him in the eye any more. It was a small victory.
At last headlights cut through the fog and Richard slowed to a halt in front of Nick. His car vibrated with the pounding bass from the dance music blasting out of the top-of-the-range speakers.
‘Took your time.’ Nick slid into the passenger seat and blew on his hands to warm them.
‘Where’s my jacket?’ Richard asked.
‘Shit. Sorry.’ Nick had meant to bring back the jacket he’d borrowed for yet another interview for a job he’d never get once he declared he had a criminal record. He knew Richard needed it for a posh event he was going to that evening with his father. ‘Networking,’ he’d said. It sounded poncey. As Nick had been getting ready to leave the house his dad had come home and then he’d been in such a rush to get away he’d forgotten.
‘Let’s whizz over to yours and pick it up. I’ll still have time to give you a driving lesson after, just a shorter one.’
Nick gnawed on the edge of his thumb as Richard eased the car forward.
Outside Nick’s house he kept the engine running, the stereo blaring.
‘Don’t be long.’ Richard pulled out his mobile and started tapping away at the screen as Nick jumped out the car and ran up the path, pushed open the front door.
Something was wrong.
He sensed it before he’d even stepped onto the doormat, and he paused, muscles tense, heart racing, as he tried to discern why the air was so thick. So heavy. It was laden with the smell of smoked haddock they’d eaten earlier, but that wasn’t it.
Something wasn’t right.
Nick didn’t call out to his mum, as he usually would, as if he instinctively knew she wouldn’t be able to answer him. He didn’t switch on the lights.
Something bad had happened.
Nick was as certain of that as he was of his own name. He crept down the hallway, pushing open the door to the kitchen, blinking in the gloom. Nothing was where it should be. The table was upended. The chairs on their sides. He stepped forward. His feet splintered already broken crockery. There was a bang outside. The gate?
Fear.
Nick was scared. He stretched out his hand and fumbled for the light switch. The kitchen was awash with light but it wasn’t warm or comforting as it shone a spotlight on the mess. The biscuit tin where mum kept her escape fund was lidless and empty, resting against the hob. On the floor was the large knife used to carve the Sunday meat, its stainless steel blade sharp and jagged. Nick’s eyes trailed over the floor. He stopped as he spotted it. Breathed in sharply. Hand on chest as though in pain.
Blood.
Dark and dried on the grubby grey lino.
Blood.
It was then that the panic set in.
44
Then
‘Is Lisa there?’ I asked Nancy. I’d already tried her mobile but it was switched off again.
There was a beat. A muffled voice, as though someone was talking with their hand over the receiver. ‘Sorry, Kat. You’ve just missed her,’ Nancy said a little too brightly, and I knew she was lying.
That night, at the park, after Lisa had dragged me away from Aaron, I’d clung to her as we walked home, my legs shaking with shock. At my front door I’d started to say again: ‘If you hadn’t come…’ but Lisa had held her hand up and taken a step back.
‘You shouldn’t have told Mr Lemmington, Kat.’
I was stunned. How was this my fault? ‘I had to. Someone could have got hurt. Died even. What if you’d had a bad reaction? He needs stopping. Besides, did you see the look in his eyes? God knows what he’s capable of. He’ll try and get his own back. I know he will.’ I was babbling. Fear pushing my words out in one gibbering rush.
‘Stop thinking about yourself. What if he tells the police he was selling to me? Did you think of that?’ She was shouting.
‘He won’t. Why would he? Don’t worry,’ I’d told her but she had walked away without answering.
I hadn’t left the house in two days for fear of reprisals and now Lisa wouldn’t return my calls. Still, I didn’t think my dread of Aaron was the only thing making me feel sick.
I swung my legs out of bed and pulled on yesterday’s sundress before sliding my drawer open. From underneath the tangle of bras and pants I pulled out the Boots paper bag. My period was late, and I couldn’t keep pretending it was coincidental I never fancied breakfast any more and felt sick every day around dinner time. I had to find out for sure. I unfolded the paper that came in the box and read the words slowly and carefully, but despite my straight A grades at school, I had to read the instructions three times to try and make sense of them and I desperately wished Lisa was with me.
I hesitated before carrying the kit into the bathroom. Apart from the first time in the woods we had always used a condom, and no one gets pregnant their first time, do they? But the little voice in my head mocked and you’re supposed to be the clever one and I knew if I wanted to find out, now was the time with the house to myself for the day. If I wanted to find out.