by Mark Tilbury
‘Belle of the ball,’ he whispered. ‘She’s the belle of the ball.’
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. If that was his mother, she could bugger off. He was in no mood to listen to her wittering voice and so-called parental advice. Or her insistence he needed to give it time for the medication to kick in properly.
The door opened, and Danielle popped her head inside. ‘Can I come in?’
Tommy nodded.
She sat on the edge of his double bed. ‘How are you?’
‘Pretty much how I always am. Banging headache, and a load of shit going round my brain I don’t understand.’
‘Mum says—’
‘I don’t care what she says.’
Danielle looked away. Focussed on the barren wall opposite his bed.
‘I’m sorry. I’m just sick of her going on about things she knows nothing about.’
‘She’s only worried about you. Would you like anything to eat?’
‘No.’
‘But you’ve only had water today. You’re gonna get really ill if you don’t eat.’
‘Like I’m not already?’
‘But you need food.’
‘The only thing I need is to be left alone, and for people to stop telling me what’s best.’
Danielle wound strands of hair around her index finger. ‘It’s because we love you and want to help you.’
‘Really? So, help me die, then.’
Danielle’s eyes widened. The words seemed to paralyse her body. ‘Don’t be daft. It’s the last thing on earth—’
‘Thought you said you wanted to help?’
‘Get you better, Tommy. Not bloody kill you.’
‘But why?’
‘Because it broke my heart when you disappeared. Helping you die would destroy it completely.’
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. ‘Seems to me as if everyone wants what’s best for them, not me.’
‘You’re fifteen. You haven’t even experienced anything yet. I know it’s hard, but things will get better. I promise.’
‘So, you can see into the future now?’
‘No, Tommy. I hang on to hope like everyone else. A lot of the time it’s all we’ve got.’
‘And how are you meant to do that when you can’t even think straight?’
‘By telling yourself it’ll pass. It’s just faulty wiring in your brain because of the head injury. If it was your leg or something, you’d be able to see it getting better.’
‘It’s getting worse. I can’t even sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I start seeing all the weird stuff.’
‘Bella?’
‘Mostly. But other stuff, too.’
‘Like what?’
Tommy considered telling her about naked, mutilated corpses. Always lying face down in a pool of blood. Some were missing limbs, others heads. One had something carved on his back, but he couldn’t make out what it was because of all the blood.
‘Tommy?’
‘Just random shit. I don’t wanna talk about it.’
‘But it might help.’
‘It won’t.’
‘Well, if you change your mind, I’m always willing to listen.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Okay. Do you want some good news instead?’
He wasn’t really interested in anything, good or bad. ‘What?’
‘A guy asked me out when I was stacking the shelves in Waitrose.’
‘What guy?’
‘His name’s Dean. He said he’d seen me a few times before, and it had taken him a while to pluck up the courage to approach me.’
‘What did you say?’
‘That I’d consider it.’ She fiddled with her hair, which was now sporting purple streaks. ‘He gave me his mobile number and asked me to text him if I was interested.’
‘Are you gonna?’
‘Maybe.’
‘How old is he?’
Danielle shrugged. ‘About the same age as me.’
‘Does he live in Feelham?’
‘No. Chorley.’
Tommy’s attempted suicide jumped into his head. Standing on the edge of the platform, the train hurtling around the bend. ‘Hope it works out.’
‘Thanks. By the way, Jordan texted and asked if it would be all right to come and see you.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s worried about you.’
‘I don’t wanna see anyone apart from you.’
‘He’s got a load of pictures he wants to show you?’
Tommy sighed. ‘Of what?’
‘You and some friends from school.’
‘I don’t have no friends anymore.’
‘You do, Tommy. You’ve got loads.’
Tommy slapped the side of his head. ‘Not in here I don’t. My past belongs to someone else. Some stupid kid who had a tantrum and ran away from home.’
‘So, let’s try and get that Tommy back.’
‘Why? It’s gone. Finished. Kaput. I don’t give two fucks about friends, or school, or Jordan.’
Danielle looked away. ‘Okay. Have it your way. But at least consider it. He’s even got some pictures of when you played on the school football team.’
‘I hate football.’
‘You might do now, but you used to be mad about it. When you were younger, you used to come home and go straight to Saxon’s Green to play. Usually until it got dark. Dad would always tell you off for being late.’
He stared intently at her, eyes glazed. ‘He’s a prick.’
‘Please don’t talk about him like that. He’s always done his best for us. Even when money was tight, he made sure we had a good Christmas. Nice presents.’
His mouth hung open, and drool ran onto his chin. ‘Santa is Satan. Satan is Santa. You can’t trust anyone. Not even the girl with the golden eyes.’
‘Tommy?’
His hand beat against the side of the bed. ‘Never forget the wolf is really a sheep, and the sheep is really a wolf. Ask Little Red Riding Hood. She soon found out when she visited Auntie Barb’s house for tea.’
‘You’re not making any sense.’
‘Auntie Barb smoked The Three Little Piggies out, and they went wee, wee, wee, all the way home.’
‘Have you taken your medication today?’
He grabbed her wrist. ‘Don’t talk to me about love. There’s no such thing. Just sex. Filthy, animal sex. Pigs rolling around in the mud. Even the ones who go wee, wee, wee, all the way home.’
Danielle tried to pull her hand away, but his nails dug into the soft flesh. ‘Stop that! You’re hurting me, Tommy. You’re hurting my arm.’
‘I know what you are!’
She cried out. ‘Let… me… go! You’re breaking my wrist.’
Tommy had waited a long time for Bella to come close enough to the cage. Usually she’d keep her distance. Strut her stuff. Always out of reach. But today – bingo. Full house. The bitch was his. He leaned forward and bit her thumb.
Danielle screamed. Her wounded thumb throbbed.
He released his grip and laughed, blood greasing his lips. ‘How do you like that, Belle of the ball?’
Rachel appeared in the doorway. ‘What the hell’s going on?’
Danielle staggered backwards. ‘He bit me. He bit my fuckin’ thumb.’
‘Hold it above your head to stop the bleeding. I’ll take you to casualty.’
Tommy walked to the wall and banged his head repeatedly against the surface. Thud, thud, thud. Over and out.
Chapter Eight
With an increased dose of Buspirone, Tommy was no longer suffering blackouts. After several days in bed following the attack on his sister, his mental state had improved slightly.
He had no recollection of biting Danielle, or of anything he’d said to her. Just an empty space where his memories were once stored. Apparently he’d been babbling nonsense about The Three little Piggies and Auntie Barb.
Danielle stood inside the bedroom doorway, a white blob of banda
ge covering her hand and wrist. ‘How are you feeling?’
It was the first time he’d seen her since the assault. He could barely look at her. ‘I’m sorry. I…’
‘It’s all right. I know it wasn’t you who bit me.’
Her understanding brought tears to his eyes. ‘The best thing you can do is stay away from me.’
She took a few steps into the room. ‘And why would I wanna do that? You’re my baby brother, and I’m never gonna stop loving you.’
‘I’m fucked, Danielle.’
‘I’m gonna make you better if it’s the last thing I do.’
Tommy tried to move, but his muscles were too weak. ‘Don’t waste your time on me. I’m a monster.’
‘No you’re not. You’ve been through a shitstorm. Has the medication helped at all?’
‘A bit. My hands and feet are numb, and I keep dribbling. Oh, and I’ve pissed the bed twice. But apart from that and feeling like a zombie, it does seem to be helping.’
She was quiet for a while, twirling a silver ring on her index finger. ‘How do you feel about seeing Jordan?’
‘I already told you I don’t wanna see him.’
‘But why? You can just tell him to leave if it gets too much.’
Tommy shook his head. ‘It’s nothing personal; I don’t really wanna see anyone.’
‘He’s biked here all the way from Chorley.’
Tommy didn’t care if he’d biked all the way from Mars. ‘Tell him maybe later in the week when I’m more used to the drugs.’
‘He said he’s got some photos to show you.’
Tommy sighed. Stretched. Wished his head would work properly. ‘How’re pictures gonna help when I don’t even recognise you? This room? Mum and Dad?’
‘You might recognise someone.’
‘I doubt it.’
Danielle forced a weak smile. ‘But you won’t know unless you try, will you?’
Tommy surrendered. Perhaps if he got it over and done with, Jordan would realise he was wasting his time like the rest of them. ‘Okay. Tell him he can have ten minutes ’cos I’m bloody knackered.’
‘You sure?’
No. It’s the last thing I wanna do. ‘Yeah.’ He rested his back against the headboard and told himself to be friendly. Jordan was only trying to help. Like his mother with her stupid pictures of him when he was a kid. Did she think he’d suddenly remember the bright-red bike he’d got for his eighth birthday? Or his nanna bouncing him on her knee when he was barely out of nappies?
Danielle returned a few minutes later with a skinny kid dressed in jeans and a Nike tee-shirt.
Tommy scanned his features, but the ginger hair and smattering of freckles were equally as alien as everything else Tommy had seen since leaving hospital.
Jordan walked to the bed, grinned. ‘How you doin’, Tommy?’ The voice sounded too deep to be coming from this gawky kid.
‘So, you’re Jordan?’
The grin widened. ‘The one and only.’
Tommy pointed to a chair. ‘Take a pew.’
‘Thanks.’ He dragged it next to the bed and sat. ‘Had a bit of a rough time, then?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Danielle says you can’t remember nothing.’
‘Nope.’
‘What about things that have happened since you came home?’
‘Most of it, except for when I black out. The doctor’s put me on some shit to try and help with that.’
Jordan tugged on his earlobe. ‘I’ve really missed you, Tommy. Me and all the lads at school. And Aiden.’
‘Who’s he?’
‘My older brother.’
Tommy shrugged. ‘I don’t remember him.’
‘He can be a bit of a fuckwit. But he’s all right really. He’s going into the army next year.’
And you’re telling me because? ‘Cool.’
‘He gave us a hard time the week we went to army cadets. Thought being a corporal gave him the right to throw his weight around. You told him to stick a rifle up his arse and pull the trigger.’
‘What did he say to that?’
Jordan laughed. ‘He didn’t get a chance. You stomped out and never went back again.’
‘Was I always a mouthy twat?’
‘Only when you got upset.’
Tommy thought about the argument with his sister. ‘Tell him I’m sorry.’
‘Nah. He don’t care. By the way, he’s sent you a present.’
‘Me? Why?’
Jordan pulled a watch with a square, black, plastic face from his pocket and handed it to him. ‘’Cos he knows you’ve had a shit time. He just wanted you to have something useful.’
‘A watch?’
Jordan shook his head. ‘Not just any old watch, Tommy. It’s a smart watch. Like a smart phone. You can add apps and stuff.’
Tommy was none the wiser. ‘Oh.’
‘I’ve put some of your favourite music tracks on there.’
‘Thanks.’
‘It’s a good ’un. Samsung Galaxy. I’ve got one myself.’ He held out his hand as if showing off a wedding ring. ‘One of the best inventions ever.’
Tommy thought it sounded like a load of old bollocks. ‘Why don’t he want it?’
‘He’s upgraded. But this one does pretty much anything you need.’
Tommy put the watch on his bedside table. ‘Does it bring back memories?’
‘No. Sorry. But you can put photos on it, so it sorta does in a way.’
‘How?’
‘You just upload ’em.’
Tommy gave up. His brain had neither the capacity nor the inclination to understand gadgets. Anyway, what use was a smart watch if he never planned to leave his bed again? He’d put it in the drawer later and forget about it.
‘Do you like it?’ Jordan asked.
‘Yeah. It’s cool. I’m sorry, my mind’s a bit muddled at the moment. I’ll have a proper look at it when I’m feeling a bit better. Tell your brother thanks.’
‘Course.’
After a short awkward silence, Jordan said, ‘I’ve put a few photos of you and the lads on there as well.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I thought it might help.’
Tommy summoned gratitude from a well that had long since run dry. ‘I hope so.’
‘I’ve also put my number in the contacts so you can call me anytime.’
‘Cool.’
‘Do you remember anything at all?’
Tommy thought about the scars and bite marks on his arse. ‘No. But maybe I don’t wanna remember.’
‘Danielle said you were found in some country lane out in the sticks.’
‘So they tell me.’
‘I wonder how you wound up there?’
‘Dunno.’
‘Someone must’ve driven you.’
Tommy didn’t care if he’d been dropped in by helicopter. Questions weren’t worth a toss when you didn’t have a clue to the answers.
‘Do you remember the time we played the Norman Freeman School and you tried to nick the jam doughnuts at the after-match tea.’
Tommy shook his head.
‘You put a load of ’em in your sports bag, and this huge kid stopped you at the door and told you to open your bag. When you did, he told you to put them all back. You asked him who the fuck he thought he was, and he said he had the authority to report anyone contravening school rules. You called him a gorilla and told him to piss off. Things got a bit ugly.’
‘Did I have a death wish or something?’
Jordan grinned. ‘After trading insults for a while, you put them back on the table. But as you walked out the door, you told him he was welcome to his stupid doughnuts ’cos his fat belly obviously needed them more than yours. Then we legged it back to the bus and hid at the back.’
‘Did I get in trouble?’
‘Nah. The coach hated grasses. Even if Gorilla Boy had grassed on you, he’d have ignored it unless it was something really serious.’
‘Yeah. One of the best.’
‘Where did I play?’
‘Centre midfield. Thought you were the next Granit Xhaka.’
‘Who’s he?’
‘Plays for Arsenal.’
‘Oh.’
‘Talking of Arsenal, where’ve all your posters and scarves gone?’
‘I took them down.’
‘Why?’
‘’Cos they don’t mean nothing to me no more. Dad goes on about beating Chelsea in the cup final, as if I’m suddenly gonna remember the game.’
‘They’ve beaten Chelsea in two cup finals recently.’
‘Good for them. Who do you support?’
‘Liverpool.’
‘Are they any good?’
Jordan bobbed his head. ‘Won the Champions League and the Premier League. Best team in Europe.’
Tommy didn’t care. Football meant nothing to him. Or smart watches with music and photos. Or school teams. All he wanted to do was die and put an end to his pain and misery.
‘I reckon Arsenal might get in the top four this year. They’ve got a pretty decent team.’
Tommy didn’t give a toss if they were relegated. ‘We’ll see.’
‘Kelly said to tell you she misses you.’
‘Who?’
‘She was your girlfriend. You split up with her a few weeks before you vanished.’
‘Why?’
Jordan shrugged. ‘Fuck knows. Do you want me to give her a message?’
Tommy didn’t but said, ‘Tell her I’m sorry.’
‘Okay. By the way, I’ve put a photo of you and her together on the watch.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Is there anything you want?’
To be left alone. ‘I’m okay. Danielle’s taking care of me.’
‘She’s one in a million, your sis.’
‘I know. Look, I don’t wanna be rude, mate, but I’m really knackered. I need to get some sleep.’
Jordan nodded. ‘Course. I’ll get off now. Don’t forget, I’ve put my number on the watch if you ever need to get hold of me.’
‘Okay.’
‘And I don’t give a shit if you wanna talk in the middle of the night, okay?’
Tommy nodded.
Jordan walked out of the bedroom, gave a small wave, and left Tommy submerged in suicidal thoughts.
Chapter Nine