‘Marry me, Kat.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’ I looked into the eyes of the boy I loved and I knew I’d have to tell him what I’d done to my dad. He’d probably never look at me the same way again.
‘Stupid?’ He began to tickle me. ‘Handsome, funny and oh so sexy but stupid? No. Madly in love with you. Yes. We can make this work.’
‘Can we?’ More than anything I wanted to believe him.
‘We can.’
‘But—’
‘But nothing. It may be sooner than we’d hoped but you and me, Kat, we’re written in the stars.’ His arm arced towards the sky, a big, sweeping gesture. ‘A baby! A family of three. It would have happened eventually anyway. You can still act. I can still be an architect. It will be fine. Better than fine. You’ll see.’ His words tumbled out, one mad rush, and his euphoria crashed over me, washing away my doubts. ‘Here.’ He unclasped the gold cross he always wore. I lifted my hair as he fastened it around my neck. ‘I’ll get you a ring, of course. We may be young but we’ll do it all properly,’ he said, and this time, when he made love to me, it wasn’t against the tree, hard and fast, but on the floor of the forest, soft and sweet. I didn’t care if we never made it to a bed as long as I spent the rest of my life in Jake’s arms. If it wasn’t for the drizzle I’d have been happy lying, limbs entwined, for hours, but as the cold drops of rain fell heavier, we ran to the car, holding Jake’s jacket over our heads, and I felt as though we were running into our future.
‘I can’t go home.’ I chewed my thumb nervously as I sat in the passenger seat.
‘You can stay at mine. Mum will be cool.’
On the verges, rabbits ventured out now darkness had fallen, despite the rain bouncing off the car roof, making the road look even darker. Jake was driving faster than usual. The radio was tuned to the old-fashioned station Nancy loved. The Monkees sang ‘I’m a Believer’. I glanced at his profile – the sheen covering his skin, his torso hunched over the wheel as if he could make the car go even faster.
‘Are you okay?’ Part of me wondered whether he’d gone into shock. Whether the news was too much. He turned to me, his eyes glinting in the gloom.
‘I’m feeling a bit sick actually. My head’s spinning. You’re sure, aren’t you? About the baby? I’m really going to be a dad?’
‘Yes. Pull over and get some air. You’re going too fast anyway.’ I placed a hand over my stomach. The heater was blasting out warm air but the windscreen was fogging. I fished a tissue out of my bag and tried to wipe it clean, but I spread the dampness, making it worse.
‘I just want to get home. Process it all properly. Parents! Us!’ The car lurched forward as he speeded up and there was a squealing of tyres as we hared around the bend.
The Monkees faded to ‘Are You Lonesome Tonight?’, and Elvis Presley’s voice was so wistful it almost seemed like a sign. Something bad was going to happen.
‘Jake.’
‘Chill. It’s okay.’
His eyes locked onto mine. One of his hands left the wheel and he tucked my hair behind my ear, and his touch was so tender. The music filled the car, and it felt like the perfect, perfect moment, until lights dazzled me through the windscreen. My head jerked towards the road. I was transfixed by the headlights of the other car approaching us, on the wrong side of the road, far, far too fast.
Everything seemed to slow: I do not know whether I screamed first or raised both arms in front of my face. Metal crunched; the seatbelt sliced into me as I was thrown forward and then pushed back as the airbag inflated. My head pounded against the window and blackness sucked me under.
I don’t know how long I was out for but the first thing I was aware of was the crushing darkness. It was dark. So dark. I couldn’t see and panic tornadoed through me. It took every ounce of energy to prise open my eyes and I blinked furiously as they began to water.
It was hot. Unbearably hot. Acrid smoke sealed off my throat, and as I coughed and coughed, my lungs burned with the effort of trying to drag in air, my ribs felt like they would shatter. ‘Jake.’ I was screaming his name over and over but I think it must have been in my head because I couldn’t hear. Just for one solitary moment there was perfect, perfect silence before my senses roared back to life. Someone was screaming, anguished cries that my ears would never forget. I didn’t think it was me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Where was I? I was trapped, and I was scared. So scared. Somehow Elvis was still singing but I wasn’t sure if it was real. I wasn’t sure if I was real. There was something warm and sticky running down my face and as it trickled down my nose I could smell the blood. Every cell in my body screamed at me to move. To run. But I couldn’t. Jake! I must reach him but I couldn’t undo my seatbelt. I couldn’t feel my body properly. There was no pain. Why wasn’t there any pain? ‘Jake!’ I tried to shift in my seat. I was weak but I put my palms under me and raised myself up slightly before dropping again, and as I sank back into the seat I felt a dampness between my thighs. I was so scared I thought I must have wet myself.
‘Jake!’
He didn’t answer. I looked to my right. His eyes were open, a crimson river gushing from his temple. He was waxy, still, and his stillness conjured the image of my dad, bleeding and broken at the bottom of the stairs.
Momentarily I raised my fingers, touching the gold cross around my neck and it crossed my mind this was some divine punishment for what I’d done.
51
Then
Nick stood, hand gripping the knife handle. The steel blade glinting in the light. The footsteps reached the top of the landing and a voice called ‘Nick? You found my jacket?’ Nick stepped out of the bathroom and opened and closed his mouth, silently watching confusion, worry, and then an awful realisation flit across Richard’s face as he noticed Nick’s mum lying on the floor.
‘Angela?’ Richard’s voice was loud. Firm. In control. Nick sagged against the doorframe, thankful Richard had done his Duke of Edinburgh Award. Nick silently promised he’d learn first aid so he’d never feel this helpless again. He covered his mouth with both hands, watching as Richard pressed his fingers against mum’s neck; he hadn’t felt a pulse, but Richard knew exactly where to touch. He nodded before saying: ‘she’s alive’.
‘I’ll go and phone for an ambulance,’ Nick said but before he had reached the top of the stairs he heard his mum whimper and then moan. He rushed to her side.
‘Mum.’ Nick’s voice cracked. ‘I thought you were…’
‘Where is he?’ Mum’s voice was raspy, her eyes glazed. As she struggled to sitting she pressed a hand against the side of her head; scarlet drops of blood trickled through her fingers.
‘He’s not here.’ Nick exchanged a worried glance with Richard, keenly aware his dad could return at any time. ‘Mum, I’m going to fetch a doctor.’
‘No! I’m fine.’ But his mum winced as she moved. ‘He found out.’ She tore off toilet tissue and dabbed at the cut on her mouth. ‘The money. He knew I was going to leave. I thought,’ she whimpered, ‘I thought he was going to kill me.’
‘I’ll call the police, Angela.’ Richard squeezed her arm. ‘He won’t come near you again.’
‘No! Not safe.’ Mum stood and stumbled. Nick caught her around the waist and she fell into him, and he remembered the time he used to press his small body against her legs, bury his head into her stomach to block out the shouting. ‘I want to leave. I have to leave.’ Hysteria crept into her voice and Nick soothed her, as she used to him.
‘Shhh. It’s okay.’
‘It’s not okay.’ But her tone was lower. Calmer. ‘We have to leave. When we’re safe we can call the police.’
‘Where will we go?’
‘My sister. Your aunt. She’ll take us in.’