chapter THIRTY-SEVEN
“You’re OK, are you?” I searched his eyes for any signs of illness. Nothing, just his number, ever present, unchanging.
“Yeah, bit tired. Can’t sleep in those cells.” He wiped his big hands over his face. “Kept thinking about you. Wondering where you were. I’d no idea you were holed up in a church.”
“It’s mad, isn’t it? I kept thinking about you, too. It was making me crazy, thinking about you shut up in a cell. But that’s it now. You’re out. Are they bringing the car here?”
He frowned.
“What you talking about? What car?”
“That was one of my conditions — they had to bring you and a car and some money, and then I’d talk. So we can carry on. Get to Weston. It’s less than thirty miles from here.”
“Nah, you’ve got that wrong. They haven’t finished with me — they haven’t charged me yet. They just brought me here for a few hours, must be the deal you had, and then they’re taking me back again. ’Xpect they’ll take you an’ all, too.”
“But they agreed — they signed an agreement! It’s all legal!”
“What you gonna do? Take them to court?” He shook his head. “You can’t trust anyone, Jem, you should know that. Except me, of course.”
“But they lied. Bastards! What are we gonna do now? How are we gonna get away from here?”
He sighed. “I don’t think we are, Jem. This is it — we’ve got a few hours. We’ll just have to make the most of it. Like you said up there.”
“But that’s not right, Spider. We’ll never make it now. We’ll never make it to Weston. I wanted to walk along the beach with you, have fish and chips like you said….” I had to stop there, as I was choking over the words. He put his long arm ’round me.
“Don’t get upset. It doesn’t all have to be today. We can do it another time. Face it, they’re gonna put me away this time, probably you, too, but I can wait. I’ll wait for you, if you…?”
“Of course I’ll wait for you. I waited fifteen years to find you. I could wait another fifteen if I needed to, but…” How could I say it? But time’s run out. There is no more after today.
“But what?”
“Just…just…I dunno. I just don’t think it’s going to work out.”
“’Course it is. Sometimes things are really simple — I love you and you love me. That’s all we need. Whatever happens, we can get through it.”
Why can’t things be like that? He loved me and I loved him, but the number in my head was telling me that he was going to die today. And the numbers had never been wrong. Leaning against him, breathing in his muskiness, I suddenly got a sick, sick feeling. There was nothing wrong with Spider. He wasn’t lying beaten up in a police cell. He wasn’t ill. Tattoo Face was gone, and there was no one chasing us with a gun or a knife.
The only thing threatening him was me. I’d made it happen — I’d drawn him back to me on the fifteenth of December 2010: 12152010. I saw the number and somehow I knew its message would come true. While I existed, the number existed. I was the number and the number was me. I don’t know if anyone else, anywhere in the world, saw them, or if the numbers they saw were the same ones I saw, but once I’d seen one, that was it. They didn’t change, they didn’t go away. Anne was right: I was a witness, but maybe not just in a general way. I was a witness to the end of particular people on particular days.
There was only one way to deal with it. The only way to cancel that number out was to remove the person who saw it.
I stood up slowly and looked around. I couldn’t expect the keys to be back in the drawer in the vestry, but I knew Simon always had some on him. He was talking to Anne in one of the side aisles, keys glinting in a big bunch at his waist. I ran up to him and lunged at the keys. I had them unhooked from his waistband before he knew what I was doing. Pushing him aside, I raced to the tower door. There were so many keys, so many, but I got the right one, second try. I didn’t look back, not once, I just wrenched open the door, slipped through, slammed it behind me, and locked it, shutting out all the raised voices, even the one I longed to hear. Especially the one I longed to hear. But it was there in my head as I climbed the spiral staircase.
“Jem, what the f*ck…? Jem!”
As I stepped out onto the roof, horizontal rain lashed into me. I locked the door at the top of the staircase and picked my way across, over to the tower. In those few seconds, my clothes were soaked, jeans flapping wetly around my legs. Once I was in the tower, I knew what I had to do. Ignoring the other side doors, I went up until I found the bell-ringing room, then across and up the top staircase. I didn’t bother securing the last door — the other three or four would slow them down enough. It would be far too late by the time they got to me. I was breathing fast and hard, my chest hurting with the effort. My legs were wobbly from the climb, and the wind buffeted at me, almost knocking me over. I put both hands on the stone parapet to steady myself.
From far below, I heard shouting. I wouldn’t let myself look down. I kept my eyes on the rooftops and the hills beyond.
I waited until I’d caught my breath a bit, but not long enough to lose the adrenaline rushing through my veins. Eyes on the horizon, I gave a little jump and, using all the strength left in my arms, pulled myself up onto the stone wall. I crouched there for a second, getting my balance, and then slowly, with arms outstretched, got to my feet.
The rooftop pool across from me contained a handful of swimmers, defying the storm above them. I knew now for sure that I’d never be one of those people. I would never be anything other than what I was now — a girl who, for fifteen years, had brought death and destruction to those around her. A girl who’d been stupid enough to start to believe in love, and who now knew that there was only one way to save the boy who loved her.
Perhaps, after all, I had seen my own number.
It had been reflected in Spider’s eyes all along.
12152010.
The day I said good-bye to it all.