He's After Me

Chapter FORTY-SEVEN



We tear through town, blue lights flashing, siren wailing. Bizarrely, all I can think is, Livi would love this.

But Livi’s not here.

As we approach Dad’s apartment we can see the flashing lights of police cars up ahead. They’ve closed the road. The area below the building has been taped off and floodlights are directed up towards the flat roof of the warehouse. It looks as if they’ve evacuated the whole building, because a small crowd has gathered across by the harbour.

We get out of the car and run towards Wharfside. As I peer up at the roof I can make out a small figure looking down at us.

‘It’s Livi!’

There’s a small flash of light. I wonder what it is until a second figure appears beside her. It’s Jem with his camera.

A guy holding a megaphone who seems to be in charge comes over to greet us.

‘My name’s Phil,’ he introduces himself, and starts explaining to Mum and Dad what’s going on. I look back up at the roof at the two figures silhouetted against a background of stars. Suddenly Jem’s favourite song floods into my mind and I’m drowning in terror.

And when no hope was left in sight

On that starry, starry night.

You took your life

As lovers often do …

Jem raises his hand and waves. He can see me. I wave back at him. I don’t know what else to do.

A van appears and police in flak jackets spill out of it. Phil mentions a ‘hostage situation’. I stare at the guys in horror. This is crazy; they look like a riot squad. For all I know, these guys have got guns.

‘He’s not armed!’ I interrupt.

‘Can you be sure of that?’ Phil turns to me. I shake my head in disbelief.

‘He hasn’t taken her against her will!’ I explain, but no one’s listening.

‘Oh my God!’ Dad points up to the roof.

Jem is leaning over the edge, his head and upper body dangling in mid-air. The crowd gasps.

‘Where’s Livi?’ screams Mum. My sister has disappeared from sight. ‘Livi!’

‘It’s OK! Shhh!’ I grab Mum’s arm to calm her down. ‘He’s tagging, that’s all.’

‘What?’ Mum clings to me in terror.

‘He’s doing graffiti. She’ll be hanging on to his legs. She’s fine.’

Mum sobs. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I’ve done it myself.’

We watch with our hearts in our mouths, as, upside down, Jem sprays an F on the warehouse wall. Then he wriggles his way back up to the roof, moves along a bit, and does the same manoeuvre again, only this time it’s a U.

The tension lifts and a ripple of amusement passes through the crowd as it becomes obvious what he’s writing. When he’s finished, the crowd bursts into applause and Jem stands up and takes a bow. Livi appears beside him and he raises her hand in triumph.

It’s OK. He’s loving this. So is she. There’s nothing sinister going on. He’s just being a bad boy.

‘He’s a graffiti artist,’ I explain, weak with relief. ‘He was pissed off. That’s all. Now he’s got it out of his system.’

‘As far as we’re concerned, he’s dangerous,’ says Phil curtly and walks away to confer with the heavy squad.

Jem plays to the crowd and they egg him on, enjoying the free entertainment. Better than telly, this.

Using the megaphone, Phil tries to talk him down. He responds by dangling upside down again and spraying his opinion of him and the police in general on the front of the building. The crowd love it.

I gulp. Watching Jem’s antics from this angle, with a crick in my neck, unable to take my eyes away from the drama unfolding on the roof above me, I can see clearly what a dangerous game he is playing. One slip and he’d be dead. That’s the thrill of it. He’s having a ball, up there, taunting the police, sticking a finger up to them.

Be careful, Jem. Don’t fall. I know you’re the maestro, I know you’re as agile and sure-footed as a cat, but even cats have only nine lives.

Then, to my surprise, he adds his signature, Fin, for all the world to see. Finally, he’s come out. He’s revealed his identity. Why would he do that?

My blood chills as I recall the words of Jem’s poem, the one he dedicated to me.

I would go down for loving you

But if I did, I’d bring you too.

And if you sent me down to hell

I’d take you there with me as well.

But that was meant for me, not Livi!

High up on the rooftop, my sister is having a wonderful time. She’s never had such a spellbound audience before in her life. The excitement is getting to her; she’s leaping about now with a spray can in her hand.

She wants a go.

Instantly, cold with fear, I snatch the megaphone from Phil’s hand.

‘NO! DON’T LET HER, JEM!’

I shouldn’t have interfered. No one tells Jem Smith what to do. Though I think, for a moment, he hesitates.

But it’s too late. Livi is already down on her stomach and has disappeared from sight and automatically he drops to his knees to hold her legs. Her head appears above the parapet, commando style. She waves the paint can at us, milking her audience, and the crowd cheers.

Beside me Dad yells, ‘GET BACK, LIVI! GET BACK!’ But this is her moment and nothing is going to spoil it. Mum presses her face into his chest, afraid to look, as Livi leans over the edge of the building and hangs upside down.





I watch, afraid to breathe, as, concentrating hard, she laboriously executes a perfect-shaped heart, the right way up, with the spray can. I know, I just know, her tongue will be sticking out between her white teeth with concentration, just like it did when she was a little kid. The crowd is silent. Heads back, everyone bar Mum watches her like a hawk as, inside the heart, she painstakingly writes Sweet Livi. Her only fault ever was to love people too much.





He’d seen Anna down there and without thinking he’d waved. His heart had flipped over when she’d waved back.

She still loved him. She understood. Of course she did.

No one could prevent them from loving each other, no one could tear them apart. They’d had their best moments on rooftops, like this. They were king.

He wanted to call down to her then, to tell her this, to tell her it was going to be all right.

But the next minute a van had pulled up and the riot squad spilt out.

It was too late.

That’s when he got down to business.