The Sleepover

by Samantha King

  Adrian looks over his shoulder. “Probably a fox. I saw one on my way here.”

  “Of course.” I’ve obviously spent so long feeling scared that I’m now jumpy and suspicious of every little thing.

  “I bet it’s fighting another cat. I saw a dead one over there.” He nods at the front gate.

  “A dead . . . Oh God.” I quickly unlock the bottom half of the door and almost tumble down the steps as I push past Adrian, skidding cross the veranda and out onto the footpath, spotting Marzipan almost immediately.

  “No! Oh no.” I crouch down, a sob tightening my chest as she strains to lift her head. “Shh, it’s OK.” I stroke the soft body that has always looked so plump and sturdy, but now feels flat and frail. She wouldn’t have stood a chance against a fox, I think, fighting tears as she lets her head sink into the wet grass, her usually bright, knowing eyes turning glassy.

  “Is it dead?” Adrian appears at my side.

  “Her name’s Marzipan. She’s Nick’s cat.” I lift her gently, cradling her against my chest. “But yes. I’m afraid I think she is. I can’t see any blood, though.” I gently feel around her body. “Maybe it wasn’t a fox.” I look around anxiously; the island is covered with all kinds of plants that, for all I know, could be toxic to animals.

  “Let’s have a look?” Adrian lifts her paw, bending to prod and examine her tummy.

  “The vet will know. I’ll take her there later.” I nudge his hand away, feeling protective of Marzipan even though I know she can no longer feel pain.

  “We should bury her,” he suggests, stooping for a better look.

  “No. I think I’ll just . . .”

  I stand up abruptly and hurry back to the kitchen. Finding a basket under the sink, I lay Marzipan inside, trying to imagine I’m just settling her to sleep. But all of a sudden I can’t fight the sob gathering force in my chest. Not wanting to distress Adrian, I carry the basket into the spare bedroom, hiding it under the dressing table where Nick hopefully won’t find it. Then I sit down on the bed, grab a pillow, bury my face in it, and let the tears come.

  It’s not just Marzipan; it’s everything that’s happened over the last few days—the last year, even. I so wanted life to be better. I thought the sleepover signaled the start of a new, happier phase. I couldn’t have been more wrong, and for a few minutes I feel paralyzed by the emotions flooding out of me. By the time I pull myself together enough to return to the kitchen, Adrian has found the cookie tin.

  “I could take Nick a snack?” His face is a picture of innocence as he surreptitiously brushes crumbs off his chin.

  “Sure.” I smile as I watch him grab a handful more, shoving them into his coat pockets. Maybe it will be good for Nick to see his best friend, I decide; I’m certainly missing mine. “OK. I’ll go check if he’s woken up yet,” I tell him. “You wait here.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Brookes,” he says politely.

  “You’re welcome. Although I’m the one who should be thanking you.” I pause in the kitchen doorway, reflecting on the enormity of everything Adrian told DCI Maxwell. “You were very brave to tell the police the truth. These last few days must have been horrible for you, too,” I say gently.

  “Yeah.” He nods, then grabs more cookies.

  I laugh at his eagerness. “Didn’t you have breakfast this morning?”

  “This is breakfast.” He shoves a whole cookie into his mouth, chewing rapidly. “Mum sometimes makes me toast at the weekend. She never bothers on school days.”

  I suddenly notice he’s wearing his school uniform underneath his coat. I’ve lost track of days, time. I glance at the clock on the kitchen wall. “Shouldn’t you be in school now? Your mum does know you’re here, right?”

  Adrian shuffles his feet. “It’s Friday. I hate Fridays. It’s book group day.” His eyes, so like Beth’s, widen into green pools. “And Jason won’t be there.”

  “Ah, yes. Of course.” I’ve been so preoccupied by Katie’s grief, I’ve overlooked how Jason’s death will have impacted Adrian—and Samir, too, no doubt. “It’s so sad what happened to him. I, um . . . I haven’t talked to Nick about it yet. If you wouldn’t mind not mentioning it? He’s been through so much. I want to find the right moment to tell him. OK?” Adrian nods, looking so solemn that I feel compelled to add: “Mr. Newton can’t hurt you anymore, you know. He won’t be allowed near any of you ever again.”

  “Good riddance to bad rubbish. That’s what my dad said.”

  “Your dad. Is he . . . ? Never mind.” I stop myself asking whether Mike Atkins is finally home. I don’t want to pry into other people’s family business; after all the salacious speculation I’ve read about myself, Nick, and Craig in the papers, I’m sick and tired of people poking their noses into mine.

  “Can we have another sleepover soon?” Adrian cocks his head. “It’s Nick’s turn.”

  “Well, I . . .” Every instinct inside me screams, Never again.

  “We shouldn’t have done it at my house.” He shoves his hands deep in his pockets, looking grumpy. “Mum was useless. She’s a lush.”

  “She—sorry, what?”

  “You know, an alcoholic. Whenever Dad’s away she pours gin in her coffee. She thinks I don’t see, but I do. Or maybe it’s vodka. Whatever. It smells gross.”

  “Are you sure about that, love?” I’m certain he’s got the wrong end of the stick. Nick also hates the smell of alcohol, so much so that I’ve occasionally worried someone has secretly forced him to try some. Or perhaps it’s simply a child’s need for their parent to be fully capable, reliable, I reflect now. With relations seemingly strained between his parents, maybe Adrian has started worrying about Beth drinking too much, even when she isn’t.

  “I’m just worried about Molly,” he says, his eyes turning watery. “Sometimes Mum doesn’t wake up when she cries. She didn’t even blink when we went out on Friday night.”

  I can feel my heart pumping. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying your mum didn’t check on you at the sleepover? She didn’t come upstairs and say goodnight? Make sure you were all OK? Turn out the lights . . . ?” I think through the evening as Beth described it.

  He shakes his head. “She crashed out on the sofa after the pizza guy left. I fed Molly and put her to bed. Mum only woke up the next morning because you rang the doorbell.”

  * * *

  “You’ve got a visitor, sweetheart. It’s your friend. You remember Adrian?”

  I poke my head around the bedroom door, keeping my voice soft in case Nick is still asleep. I find myself hoping he is. My mind is buzzing with everything Adrian has revealed about his mum, and I’m worried about Adrian skipping school. I have to call Beth.

  “I need the bathroom, Mum. Can you give me a hand?” Nick is sitting up in bed, skinny legs dangling over the side. He has a little more color in his cheeks but is clearly still not confident about walking without help so soon after waking up.

  “Of course. Hang on just a sec.” I tap on Beth’s number, tutting when I can’t get a connection. I try texting her instead, but it won’t send.

  “Mum. Please?”

  “Sorry, darling.” I slip my phone back into my jeans pocket; I’ll have to try again in a minute. “Let’s get you dressed, shall we? We can skip showers today. Here we go.” I support Nick as he stands up, but after a few steps he seems to find his strength. Tentatively, I let go, holding my breath as he heads slowly toward the bathroom.

  “Hurry up, dude. I’ve got something to show you.” Adrian flings himself onto Nick’s wheelchair, bouncing up and down and then trying to make it do a wheelie.

  “What are you doing here?” Nick spins around. “Didn’t you get my text yesterday?”

  Adrian looks hurt. “I didn’t think you meant it.”

  “I did. Anyway, read the sign.” Nick points to the hand-painted driftwood hanging by a ribbon on the bathroom door. “It’s private. Keep out, yeah?”

  “Why don’t you wait in the living room, Adrian?” I
suggest, puzzled by Nick’s tetchiness but knowing that, after years of taunts in school locker rooms, the need for privacy has become ingrained in him. Adrian huffs before leaping up from the wheelchair.

  “I don’t want him here, Mum,” Nick whispers as soon as Adrian has disappeared.

  “Really? Sorry, darling. I thought you might like to see a friendly face. I thought it might help put a smile back on yours,” I add softly, reaching out to stroke his cheek. A moment later, I hear the tinkle of glass. “Bang goes that delightful dolphin figurine on the bookshelf.” I roll my eyes, which finally draws a reluctant smile from Nick.

  “OK. I’ll just get dressed.” He throws a last glance toward the living room, rolling his eyes now at the lively commentary we can both hear from Adrian as he explores the room.

  Once Nick has disappeared into the bathroom, I seize the chance to try Beth again. The signal is still very weak, which probably explains why I’ve heard nothing from Craig since his text. He said he was coming over, but it’s taking him a while; usually he would send a message if he’s delayed for any reason. I’m waiting for his next move, still pondering his comment that he’ll do whatever it takes to be Nick’s dad again. It’s making me feel tense and a little anxious.

  Almost as agitated as Nick seems, I reflect, wondering if seeing Adrian has brought back bad memories. I don’t want Nick upset; on the other hand, perhaps it’s a good sign that he might be starting to recall bits and pieces. Chatting with his friend could even release the mental block that trauma has left in his mind. We’re clearly stuck here for another little while; anything is worth a try to see if I can finally get Nick to remember . . .

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “How about I go make some hot chocolate? Leave you two to catch up,” I say as Nick emerges from the bathroom, looking more himself in his jeans and favorite red hoodie.

  “No, Mum, don’t go. I wanted to ask you something.” His fingers curl around my arm. “You were saying before about Mr. Newton. That he was arrested. What did you mean?”

  “Why don’t we all sit down and have a chat, hmm? I think Adrian’s eaten all the cookies, but I’m sure I can rustle up another treat.” Nick looks doubtful, but I gently urge him into the living room, helping him get comfortable on the sofa.

  Adrian skips over from the window. “There’s a boat out there. Can we go in it?”

  “In this weather?” I smile, even as goose bumps chase up my spine at the possibility that it’s Craig’s boat, and he’s back. He said he was coming right over; I wonder again what’s taking him so long. “Anyway, we should probably get you to school.”

  “No,” Adrian yells, making me jump. “I don’t want to. You can’t make me!”

  “No, of course not. OK, don’t worry. You’re fine here,” I backtrack quickly, seeing his cheeks turn pink. “I’m just worried that your mum—”

  “I can’t go back there. Not ever. Jason’s dad does military fitness in P.E. now.”

  “So?”

  “So he’ll kill me if he sees me.”

  “No, sweetheart,” I say gently. “Why would he? Anyway, I really don’t think he’ll be there for a while.” Katie said he’d gone AWOL; my guess is that someone as tough as Nathan prefers to do his grieving in private. “In any case, he isn’t going to blame you. The dare wasn’t even your idea. It was all down to Mr. Newton. I know that. So will Jason’s dad.”

  “Dare?” Nick’s eyes open wide as he sits bolt upright. “What dare?”

  “You really don’t remember?” I squeeze his hand, looking anxiously at the mottled blush spreading across his pale cheeks now. “Maybe Dr. Lynch was right,” I say, more to myself. “Perhaps talking to a counselor might be the best thing.”

  “She means a shrink, dude.” Adrian pulls a face as he slumps into the wicker armchair next to the sofa, putting his feet up on the rattan chest. “A head doctor who asks, like, a zillion trick questions. Then gets you to draw pictures about things you’re scared of.”

  I’m a little surprised Beth has been so quick to find a therapist for Adrian, but I’m forgetting that while time has stood still for me over the last week, life has gone on for everyone else.

  “I think I freaked the doc out.” Adrian pulls a face. “I drew some pretty weird stuff. My dad said Mr. Newton deserves to be shot for what he did.”

  “Mr. Newton?” Nick leans forward, eyes wider still.

  “You seriously don’t remember?” Adrian stares at him then shakes his head. “That whack on your head must have really mashed your brains.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nick looks close to tears now.

  “Why don’t you take your coat off, Adrian?” I say, more to slow things down. He’s coming on too strong, too fast, now. I’d hoped a friendly chat would help Nick; I don’t want to open up painful wounds either for him or for Adrian.

  “Nah. I’m OK.” Adrian wraps his coat even tighter around himself. “And you know what I’m talking about.” He nods at Nick. “Mr. Newton and Jason. The Perv and Army Boy.”

  “OK, that’s enough.” I’m not surprised by Adrian’s vitriol toward his teacher, but I’m shocked he can speak ill of his dead friend, who was in the same boat as all the boys—and if the postmortem does indeed indicate suicide, took the most horrific way out of it.

  “Squeezing up against us in the book club. Spying on us in the toilets.” Adrian’s face is bright red now. “Remember, Nick?”

  “Oh my God. Did you tell all this to the police?” I liked Sean. I trusted him. How could I have been so wrong?

  “Yeah. I told them about Jase, too. He was just as bad. Telling us we’d ‘better do what sir said, or else.’ Then he had the nerve to show up at my sleepover.” Adrian crumples completely now, hunching in on himself, his eyes filling with tears.

  “I’m calling your mum.” I reach into my pocket for my phone.

  “I wouldn’t bother.” He shakes his head vigorously. “She doesn’t care. She didn’t even let me stay out of school. I had to get Dad to write a note. He’s back now, anyway. I told him about Mum’s drinking. And what happened at the sleepover. He said he’d fix everything.”

  I feel a flash of concern for Beth, remembering the feeling I had on Saturday morning that I’d walked into the aftermath of an argument. Beth was so flustered; I have no idea if that’s because Adrian is telling the truth—that she had crashed out drunk the night before—or if her edginess was the aftereffect of an argument Mike Atkins has now turned up in person to finish.

  “Well, I’d like to speak to her, all the same.” I scroll through my contacts, tutting at the weak signal. Maybe it’s stronger outside. I stand up, deciding to go and check, and I’m surprised when Nick grabs my arm. “It’s OK, love. I’m not going anywhere,” I reassure him.

  “I don’t get this.” He stares at me, then at his friend, his eyes huge in his pale face.

  “What’s not to get?” Adrian glares back. “Jason gate-crashed my sleepover to shut us up, to keep us from telling on him and Mr. Newton. Especially you. You got his text, right?”

  “What text?” Nick looks even more confused as he pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket and stares blankly at the screen. “But Ade, I asked Jason to come to the sleepover,” he says after a moment. “I told you all that I wanted to talk to you. About the website you showed me on your phone. Dare or Die. I wanted Jase to get rid of it. Remember?”

  “Dare or Die. Yeah.” Adrian suddenly grins. “Props to Jase for that. Never thought he’d have the brains to come up with it.”

  “What do you mean? It’s not a joke.” Nick’s eyes widen. “My dad . . .”

  “Nick, not now. We need to talk about this alone.” I cup his face with both hands, trying to contain the panic I can almost feel whirling around inside his mind. He resists, his body rigid, eyes fixed, as though he’s picturing the terrible scene he didn’t even witness.

  “He hung himself.” Nick doesn’t take his eyes off the living room wall.

  “Oh, love.
” I wrap my arms around him, wishing I could take all the bad things away.

  “I had nightmares about it. About someone else doing that. Dare or Die. I mean, you might really, actually die. I told Jason on Friday night to ditch the website. But he didn’t have a clue what I was on about. He said his dad told him about guys getting legs and arms blown off. That was the real deal, he said. Not kids acting like they were in the SAS, or something.”

  “Jason Baxter was a liar,” Adrian spits. “He set up the website. He probably got Mr. Newton to help him, too. He came up with the dare. He wasn’t your friend, Nick. I am. And I’m glad he’s dead. True friends don’t tell. At least he had the bottle to stick to it.”

  “What?” Nick’s body spasms. “Jason’s dead ?”

  I watch his pupils dilate; I’m sure I can see the precise moment shock unlocks a door in his mind, allowing memory to flood through it. I reach for his hand. “Sweetheart . . .”

  “If you don’t believe me about what Jason was like, look at this.” Adrian fumbles in his pocket for his phone. “I’ll show you exactly what he did.”

  “I don’t need to, Ade,” Nick says quietly, before turning to look at me with blue eyes that are clearer, brighter, than I have seen them for weeks. “Mum, I remember.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  “We watched this movie. There was a guy locked in a room. He couldn’t move. Rope . . . no he had chains round his ankles. There was only one way he could escape. By sawing his own leg off.” Nick stops talking, looking confused again. “I don’t know why I told you that.” He shakes his head, a bemused puppy that’s tripped over its own feet and landed upside down.

  “Just say it as it happened, sweetheart. Take your time.” I try not to show how shocked I am that the boys watched such an inappropriate film—that Beth let them. “Pretend you’re telling me the plot of a movie. Only not that horror one. Your own story. OK?”

  “Adrian said he watched his dad cut up dead animals,” Nick continues after a moment, eyes once again fixed on the wall, a blank screen where he is clearly projecting memories as, very slowly, they begin to resurface. “He said he hated the blood. That he could ‘never cut a real person’s skin.’ Mrs. Atkins turned off the film then. She put on a kids’ movie and said she hoped we didn’t all have nightmares, or our mums would get Social Services on her.”