by Angela Mack
‘Love you too,’ Josh mouthed back, a small smile on his lips as he pulled Georgie over to his side of the car, letting him rest on his shoulder instead.
“You are both extraordinary people. And as tough as your life has been up until this point, that is how bloody brilliant your life is going to be from now on. We will make damn sure of it.” Mum nodded at Josh and reached out for him. They held hands briefly, smiling at each other through their tears. I shuffled over as close to Georgie and Josh as my seatbelt would allow, and Josh slid his arm around my shoulders. The rest of the car journey was back to being in silence, but it didn’t feel as heavy or as charged as the silence before.
By the time we got back, everyone looked drained. Josh greeted an excited Oreo, picking him up and letting him lick his face. He took him outside to the garden, giving him a few minutes to do his business before bed. Dad had to carry Georgie from the car up to his bedroom. Ever since Josh had come home, Georgie’s nightmares had almost stopped all together. He slept in his own bed most nights now and on the odd occasion he did wake up screaming, Josh went flying down the stairs and straight to him.
The first time it had happened, Josh and Mum had almost crashed into each other trying to get to Georgie. Mum told Josh the next day that she was more than happy to try and get Georgie back off to sleep or to bring him in the room with her, but Josh insisted. It was incredible how in tune he was with Georgie’s emotions. He liked to crawl in bed beside Georgie, muttering things in his ear as he stroked his hair. Within minutes, Georgie was back off to sleep―far quicker and smoother than when Mum used to do it. It would usually take an hour or so to calm him down, but not with Josh. Sometimes Josh stayed with him and they would wake up together in the morning, and other times, he would come back to bed, letting me hold him tight. But it was happening less and less now.
Mum got Georgie changed into his pyjamas and tucked him in bed, his eyes hardly opening the entire time. I snuck into his room to give him a kiss goodnight, squeezing past Josh as he entered as well, Oreo tucked under one arm. He bent down to smooth Georgie's hair off his face, whispering goodnight. We said goodnight to Mum and Dad too, before climbing the stairs to Josh’s room. We’d fallen into the habit of sleeping in his room rather than mine. He had a bigger bed and I was secretly rather jealous of his room. Being in the loft, it was a light, airy space. His ceiling was higher, and it reached a peak above his bed, with two skylights either side. I loved looking up at the stars as we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Josh popped Oreo into his furry dog bed on the floor, one that was far too big for him, before undressing. His t-shirt wasn't even over his head yet before Oreo scampered out of his bed and onto Josh's. His little paws dug at the duvet before he curled into a ball.
"I don't think so, pal," Josh chuckled as he picked him up, plopping him back down in his bed. Oreo huffed before slumping down, puppy dog eyes turned up full.
"Aww!"
"No. Don't fall for that. He needs to learn to sleep in his bed." I tried to hide my smile. I knew full well that when I woke up in the morning, Oreo would be tucked into Josh's side, snoring. And Josh wouldn't complain. He loved that dog.
Josh slithered into bed wearing only a pair of boxers. I stripped off and slipped an oversized pyjama top on, wriggling in beside him. I nudged him over to his side, nuzzling his neck. My hand roamed his back, tracing small circles all over. Each time I came across a scar, I rubbed across the surface with a gentle finger. Josh shivered.
The first time Josh and I had sex, I had been too caught up in the moment to register the pockmarks and aged wounds on his body. Each time we’d had sex since, a new blemish revealed itself to me. I never flinched away, ever, but I hadn’t asked him about them either. I was feeling braver tonight.
As I traced the outline of a jagged ridge behind his left shoulder, I found the courage to voice my question.
“Do you remember how you got all these?” I murmured, heart in my mouth as I waited to see if my question would upset him. After a brief pause, he shook his head.
“Not really,” he whispered. I lowered my hand, feeling a cluster of rough patches, little spots of wrinkled skin, at his lower back.
“That happened years ago when I was still a scrawny runt. He threw a saucepan at me when I tried walking away. It had boiling water and pasta in it.” His voice was still a whisper. I wriggled lower down the bed, touching my lips to each of the marks. He held himself still, so very still. The light from the stars shone through the skylights, illuminating each horrific memory etched into his skin. “And this one?” My thumb followed an indented line about half-way up his right side.
“He pushed me. I caught my back on a loose door hinge,” he breathed. I kissed that too and he turned over, tugging me back up the bed. I ran a hand through his hair, pausing when I felt a crease at the back of his head.
“And this one?” I stared into his eyes, our noses almost touching. He smiled at me, eyes shining.
“That’s from the best day of my life.” I wrinkled my brow, confused. “We had a big fight and I fell down the stairs. I cracked my head on something. It’s probably the worst I’ve ever felt. Minus waking up after a coma.” He chuckled but I gave a small shake of my head, still not understanding. He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, letting his hand linger on my collarbone.
“I was pretty battered. I could barely walk. And I was feeling very alone. Like the whole world was against me. And then this seriously hot girl turned up on my doorstep after walking my brother home from school.” I smiled, remembering the day he was talking about. “And she has to carry me up the stairs and even cleans up my puke”―he winced―“and even though I am a complete and total prick to her, she keeps coming back. Keeps trying to help me.” He grasped my chin, leaning forward to kiss me, pressing hard. “And thank fuck she did. ‘Cos I would be totally lost without her.”
Chapter 30
Joshua
I kissed Izzy goodbye in the morning as she left for school, the whole time feeling like a traitor. I could hardly meet her eyes and I was sure she could hear my heart thumping away in my chest. I prayed that she couldn’t read my mind, as she so often seemed to be able to do, feeling like I was cheating on her. It was like I had a dirty secret. Hell, I kind of did. I didn’t want to tell anyone where I was going today.
By the time I got back with Oreo from his morning walk, the house was silent. Sammy had left with Georgie to drop him at school and Charlie had left for work. I waited twenty minutes, wanting to be sure that no one would see me leave. They all thought I was having a quiet morning before going into school in the afternoon to work on my art project. And it was true; I would go into school later.
I shouldered my backpack before locking up behind me, hoping Oreo would behave―bloody puppy had been chewing everything up lately! I jogged to the bus stop, knowing I was going to be cutting it close. The bus pulled up as I got there and I sighed in relief as I climbed on board, tapping my new debit card on the contactless reader. Charlie had set me up with a bank account and I was still getting used to carrying a little piece of plastic around in my wallet, instead of cash all the time. It was even more uncomfortable knowing that the money in the account wasn’t my own. Charlie had paid in a couple hundred quid for me, saying it was a loaner to get me going until I started working again. Thank fuck he’d said it was a loan; I’d have been mortified if he’d given it to me as a gift or something. I was taking enough of their charity as it was, and I sure as shit didn’t want them thinking I was taking advantage of them.
I’d felt a lot more at ease when he’d told me about that job offer over breakfast this morning. One of his labourers had quit and he needed an extra pair of hands a couple days a week. He’d asked if I’d like to work for him on Wednesdays and Fridays, and he’d pay me a decent wage as well as teach me some skills like plastering and carpentry. I’d had to swear to keep up with my art project or the deal was off, but that was an easy promise to make. And when he’
d told me that he’d pay me a hundred quid a day, I’d felt like I’d won the lottery. That was triple what I'd made at Martins.
The bus rumbled to a stop outside Gilleford Hospital and I wobbled as I exited, the adrenaline coursing through me. I paused a few steps in front of the entrance, apologising to a guy that bumped into my back thanks to my last-minute standstill. I hadn’t been back here since I'd left. I had even made Sammy schedule all my check-ups at our local GP so I wouldn’t need to come back.
I took a deep breath, marching through the entrance. There was a nagging voice at the back of my mind, wondering if I would be allowed to leave again. I ignored it, reminding myself that I wasn't trapped in the In Between like before. I began following the familiar route up to the children's ward, glancing at The Quad as I walked by. I rode the lift up to the first floor, hurrying as I passed my old room. I didn't want to see inside. I did note the number of steps it had taken for me to get there from The Quad, though―119.
I marched through the children's ward and out the other side, slamming through the double doors. Officer McNeil was standing outside the room and it was as if no time had passed, as if I were still in the In Between, staring at the door behind him. I didn’t recall meeting him properly after I came out of the coma, but as I walked into his view, his eyes lit with recognition. He stood a little taller, uncrossing his arms.
“Josh,” he nodded.
“Officer McNeil,” I nodded back, and he seemed surprised that I knew his name.
“Why are you here, lad?” Why was I here? I shifted my gaze from him, trying to see through the door and into the room beyond. I’d woken up with a burning need to confront Big Mike, to tell him that even though they’d found a donor, that even if he survived, he meant nothing to me. He was dead to me. But now that I was here, I was unsure if I wanted to see him. I was afraid of what I might do, of what I wanted to do to him.
“They’re about to take him down for the op,” McNeil said when I didn’t respond. The background noise of the hospital faded. McNeil's voice sounded quiet, faint. I could only focus on the door behind him, my pulse hammering.
“The transplant?” I clarified and I watched him nod out the corner of my eye. I huffed, my wishes for the donor organ to suddenly become unavailable at the last minute, vanishing into thin air. McNeil huffed along with me, shaking his head.
“I wish it wasn’t happening either, kid. Trust me.” I tried to smile at him, showing my thanks for his support. There was a click behind him, and the door swung inwards. I began to panic as McNeil stepped aside, allowing a nurse to push a bed through the door. No, this was a mistake. I couldn't see Big Mike. I started to back away but couldn’t seem to tear my eyes from the open door, instinct keeping me from turning my back. It was a mistake to turn your back on him; he’d never waste an opportunity to attack if your guard was down.
As more of the bed edged through the doorway, it became hard to swallow. Hard to breathe. And then there he was. Our eyes locked, his widening in surprise. My vision grew hazy at the edges, my head spinning. His eyes had a yellowish tinge to them, his skin dull and yellow too. He looked thinner, weaker. He didn’t say a word.
The two nurses guiding each side of the bed were shocked to see me as well, but they didn’t stop. I must have taken a step forward without realising because McNeil put a hand on my shoulder, holding me firm. The bed squeaked as it rolled away and I was left staring at the end of it, only the top of Big Mike’s head visible as he lay there.
“Wait!” I yelled. The nurses stopped, looking back at me. McNeil increased his grip on my shoulder so much that I thought he might leave a mark. Big Mike didn’t move, didn’t turn to look at me. He continued to stare up at the ceiling.
“I hope they cock it up!” I called. “I hope the doctors fuck up and you bleed out on the table. Or I hope you reject the new liver, just like you rejected me!” Where the fuck had that come from? The words spilling from my mouth took me by surprise, as did the tears trying to form. I blinked them away, furious that I was letting him get the better of me. Again.
The nurses exchanged glances with McNeil and after a short while, he nodded at them. They began to wheel Big Mike away again. That motherfucker didn’t say a damn thing to me. Didn’t even sit up to look back at me. I wished I hadn’t come. I was brimming with violent disgust, towards myself, and Big Mike.
Why had I come? What had I been expecting? Had I wanted him to break down, to tell me he’d realised the error of his ways and that he was deeply sorry for the pain he’d caused? Yeah right. I had more chance of my spleen spontaneously growing back. And I knew that. I knew he wasn’t capable of saying something like that, of thinking he was in the wrong. So why the fucking hell had I thought turning up was a good idea? All I’d done was show him, yet again, that he could get under my skin and that even from a hospital bed, he successfully managed to torture me. He didn't give a shit! My outburst hadn't bothered him. In fact, I bet his face had stretched into a slow smirk, grinning up at the ceiling as he heard me fall apart, heard how much of a hold he still had on me. I could taste vomit in my mouth, and I swallowed against it, trying not to gag.
I was still standing in the corridor long after Big Mike had disappeared from view. McNeil hadn’t left my side.
“You did good, son,” he murmured after a while.
“Good?” I repeated, still staring straight ahead. I hadn’t done good. I'd failed. Again.
“When you first got here, I thought maybe you were here to try and do something stupid.” I flicked my eyes over to him. Was that the real reason I'd felt the urge to come here? To make him pay? To win the final fight?
“I wouldn’t have let you, you know.” He raised a brow, folding his arms again. “I wouldn’t have let him destroy your life any more than he already has. And if you’d done something stupid, that’s exactly what he would have done. That’s why when my boss told me I didn’t have to stand watch anymore, I argued against it.” I turned to him properly now. He chuckled at my shocked expression.
“That fucker is going to die at the hands of God, or he’ll die at the hands of an even more vile creature as he rots in prison. I might not know you, but I know you’re a survivor. I can tell by looking at you that you are far too good to waste your life in prison for killing that bastard.” I frowned, remembering how I’d tried very hard to kill him. Remembering the joy I’d felt when I’d squeezed his throat, watching him gasp for air.
“Yes, I’m sure you’ve pictured doing it a hundred times, and I’m not saying he wouldn’t have deserved it, but you don’t deserve it. And I don’t think you’d have had it in you anyway.” I barked out a laugh and he grinned at me. “It wouldn’t have brought you peace. Murder; it does something to your soul. I’ve seen it in the eyes of even the evilest of bastards.” McNeil glazed over, locked in a memory. I thought back to what Georgie had said about not wanting to be a murderer, even though he would never be that in my eyes.
“Karma is a bitch and she’ll dish out what he deserves soon enough. She’ll get her hands bloody, so you don’t have to.” McNeil smiled at me, holding his hand out. I gripped it, trying to show him in my handshake how much his words meant to me. As he walked away, I looked down at my hand. I remembered how angry I'd felt when my hands had slipped through Big Mike, robbing me of my chance to finally even the score. I’d tried over and over to do it again, but for some reason, my hands would not cooperate. And as I’d fled, I remembered the disappointment and failure thrashing through me. But more than that, I remembered the feeling lurking underneath it all. The feeling that up until now, I’d tried so hard to bury and forget―relief. Maybe McNeil was right. I didn’t have it in me to kill my father.
Chapter 31
Isabel
The next few weeks passed by in a blur. Mum advised (borderline insisted) that I didn’t get my old job back with Mary, suggesting that I used the time to study instead. I begrudgingly agreed, although I did go to see Mary to apologise for not showing up one day
all those months ago. I still felt awful, but she’d been thrilled to see me. She promised that my job would always be waiting for me if I ever wanted it. She was such a sweetheart.
I spent as much time studying as possible and thankfully, Josh was plenty busy with his art project too. It seemed he was working on it every possible spare minute, even staying late with Mrs DeLaney most nights. I’d asked him about it several times, but he always said he wasn’t ready to talk about it. He had even sworn Jess to secrecy and annoyingly, she was sticking to her word.
“Where’s your loyalty? You’re supposed to be my friend!” I’d said when she refused to tell me anything about it. She’d just grin at me, smug. Bitch. She did tell me all about her own art project though; a series of pen drawings of models, with their outfits made of different collages of tissue and various papers. Her final piece was going to be a drawing of a huge catwalk, with all the models parading up and down it. It sounded pretty cool.
“Hey Sunshine, almost finished?” Josh came up behind me, dropping a kiss to the top of my head. I was hunched over the kitchen table, my biology textbook and notes spread out in front of me.
“Yeah. I’ve done so many mock exam papers now that I’m going to go crazy if I do another one!” I tipped my chin up, searching for another kiss. He pecked me on the lips and I laughed, noticing the light-coloured smudges all over his face and clothing. Before I could comment, Ollie bounded over to me.