But at the last second, Jane’s eyes drift to Amber. Her calm demeanour vanishes. She hauls the child onto her hip and steps from the bench onto the table.
Tegan and Imo wrestle with Amber, struggling to keep their footing on the slippery painted concrete.
“Don’t come near me,” Jane shouts. She takes three steps along the table to reach the wall. Behind her is nothing but the blackened heavens and pouring rain. Tegan’s stomach clenches.
Jane’s free hand grabs the railings on the upper half of the wall and she steps onto the lower, brick half. She lifts the child but she slips. Her weight continues forward and the child slams into the metal rails. She yells in pain and begins to cry again.
“My baby.” Amber breaks free of Imo and Tegan, dashes forward and clambers onto the bench. The policewoman shouts and runs towards Amber.
With her back towards them, Jane places her right foot further along the rail. Turns to face them, mascara streaking her cheeks. “You’re not getting her.”
The policewoman stops a few metres from the bench and speaks into her radio. Her voice is drowned by the rain drumming on the surface of the table.
“Amber,” Imo shouts. “Don’t.”
Amber’s tuned out. Her eyes locked on the crying child. She gulps for air, her physical frailty catching up with her. Tegan approaches the bench cautiously and holds out a hand. But Amber recovers and moves closer to the table.
Balancing with her feet apart, Jane sits Leonie on the top of the railing. The child stares down through the falling rain to the street below and screams. She turns and buries her head into Jane’s chest.
“Please, God,” Tegan whispers. Panic rising and then free-falling inside her. Panic on top of panic. If Jane lets go, the child will …
The policewoman stares open-mouthed, arms raised. Why doesn’t she do something? Tegan would, if she could for the life of her think what. But making a grab for Amber won’t help. Dominos. Toppling. Is this how it’s going to end? Tegan braces herself and looks away.
“Amber, come down,” Imo pleads again, her teeth chattering. “You’re making things worse.”
But Amber’s in a different space, everything a vacuum between her and the child. She climbs onto the table.
Tegan clutches her chest. Another two, three steps and Amber’s fingertips will reach the railing. What then?
Jane kisses the child, muttering into her hair, “Mummy loves you, Mummy loves you.” A farewell? Tegan feels sick.
Amber’s feet have stopped advancing but her upper body is lolling, veering. Any loss of balance could send her careering into Jane. Like an archer pulling back a bow, she leans away, ready to fly forward. Tegan can’t watch.
“This isn’t right,” Imo yells suddenly. “Amber, think.”
Amber hesitates. “Shut up, Imogen.”
“Let me tell you about my family.” Imo runs forward and screams, her voice hoarse with the effort. “You have to listen.”
Amber inches closer to the wall. “Don’t come near me.”
Imo takes a shaky breath and climbs onto the bench. Her face is marble, the fear of heights plain to see. “You’re better than this, Amber. Let me explain.”
“Fuck off, Imogen. Get away from me.”
Amber stumbles. Tegan stands below the table, holding out her hands.
On the bench, Imo moves towards them, arms out like a novice tightrope walker. “Listen, Amber,” she says. “You’ve found her. Come down, or lose her forever.”
A gust of wind rattles the trellis behind them, ripping off petals and leaves. Something hits Imo’s face and she wobbles. The drop off the bench is less than two feet, but Tegan can see the terror in her eyes.
Imo regains her balance and wraps her arms around herself. “Do you want to go back? To the constant pain that greets you every morning?”
“Don’t you dare,” Amber shrieks and takes another step closer to the wall. The child screams again and tries to wriggle free, but Jane’s grip is firm.
“Don’t come any closer,” Jane shouts. “I’m warning you.”
Tegan wills Imo to shut it, but in a calm voice she carries on. “Pain that stays with you all day, follows you to the canteen. Whispers in your ear during lectures, shadows you at nightclubs. Taunts you when you go to bed and invades every dream.”
Clutching her ears, Amber rocks from side to side, as if trying to dislodge a thought. “Stop,” she whispers.
“My sister went missing in February. She might never be found. But your precious girl is right here.” Imo climbs onto the table. Two feet away from Amber.
Amber stops moving. She turns to Imo. So does Tegan. What the hell is this? Tears stream down Imo’s frightened face. What sister? Suddenly Imo’s erratic behaviour makes sense. It’s one thing to mourn the dead, but the lost? For a moment no one moves. The only sound Tegan can hear is her own heartbeat.
A change comes over Amber’s face. A light behind her eyes flickers with a clarity that’s been missing since they found her in the cellar. Maybe since Tegan has known her. She takes the three steps towards Imo and hugs her. They stand for a moment, sobbing into each other’s arms, as the rain pours down.
Tegan helps them onto the bench and then the ground. The policewoman produces a foil blanket and places it around Amber’s shaking shoulders.
“This is my fault,” Amber tells her. “Please take care of the child.”
Imo, putty-faced and unsteady on her feet, leads Amber towards the fire exit. “Good girl. Keep moving,” she whispers, her voice sounding old. “Don’t look back.”
More police file past them onto the roof. They fan out around the edge and surround Jane, moving quickly through the rain. Jane pauses for a long moment and stares down at them. She looks into the street below at the moving traffic and Tegan holds her breath. But the fight dies in her eyes at the sight of the officers. She lifts the child off the railing and passes her down to the female officer. She holds her gently against her padded clothing and reassures her in a quiet voice. Two policemen guide Jane firmly along the table and bench. They keep hold of her arms when she’s back on the ground, and one of them takes out a pair of handcuffs.
Tegan is shivering uncontrollably now and she turns to catch up with Imo and Amber on the fire escape. They meet another police officer on the stairs.
“All yours,” Tegan tells him, though she’s not sure what the hell’s just happened. He says he’ll take their statements on the ground floor.
“This is Amber Murphy,” Imo slurs, sounding dazed. “Leonie’s mother.”
Chapter 71
Friday 18 November (Five Weeks Later)
Phoenix
Weighed down by a bin bag of juggling props, Phoenix walks beside Riku. They’ve pooled quite a collection between them: balls, beanbags, hoops. With his unicycle over one shoulder, Riku carries a new sketchpad under the other arm.
Pitch dark, no streetlamps on the shortcut to the student union building. They don’t want to use the main road in case someone sees them in their full make-up and it spoils the effect.
Riku adjusts the weight of the unicycle and ploughs on.
It’s been icy drizzle for days. She’d have still practised outside though, like her parents always did, but Riku’s a lightweight. They’ve rehearsed in the long hallway of their flat every night, banning Tegan and Imo from watching. And they’ve developed quite an act: juggling, unicycling, acrobatics, taekwondo. Not good enough for the circus – minimal risk – but fun. At least that’s what Keren reckons. It’s her idea to have them entertaining the partying students. Phoenix feels a prickle of nerves. She doesn’t want to let Keren down; a lot’s happened since she first met her at the LGBTQ stand at the Freshers’ Fair.
When they reach the student union entrance, Riku halts and grips her arm. “What if they find out I’m straight?”
“It might be Pride Night but it’s not compulsory,” Phoenix replies, trying to keep her tone civil. Has she spent the last month practising with s
omeone she hardly knows at all? Then she sees the grin on his face. She play-slaps him. “Wind-up merchant.”
He holds up his hand and they high-five.
Keren greets them. She hugs Riku. “Thanks for coming. They’re going to love it. I’ll show you where to put your stuff.” She turns to Phoenix. Her eyes sparkle their usual beautiful blue.
They hold hands as Keren leads the way to the stage door.
Tegan
Tegan comes off the phone to Kanya and stays on her bed. Another snatched call. Although the nanny was only there for the journey with Marlon, her father’s been home a lot. Keeping an eye on Dylan since Tegan borrowed him. Kanya’s paying the price – and Tegan flinches at what that cost might be – but she always seems thrilled to hear Tegan’s voice and to let Dylan speak to his sister.
Jane Brown is currently on remand on charges of kidnap and false imprisonment. If Tegan, Imo and Phoenix can find a missing student and reunite her with her lost child, maybe they can do something to help Kanya. Especially now that Marlon has skipped bail and the country, but her father hasn’t replaced him. Tegan’s still looking over her shoulder – it’s an ingrained habit she may never kick – but there’s never one of her dad’s lackeys in view.
Kanya mentioned the postcard from Montreux tonight and Tegan lied that it was pinned on her noticeboard. Does Ivor in Flat 7 still have it? She takes a breath and heads downstairs, mentally preparing for a nerd overdose.
But it’s not nerdy Ivor who answers the door. It’s no one nerdy at all. It’s the black guy from the parents’ barbecue. Still beautiful. Her heart flutters, but he’s also still a dad. Her mood plummets.
“Can you get Ivor for me?” she says, haughty, dismissive. “He has my postcard.”
He cocks his head on one side. “Greetings from Montreux? Are you Tegan?”
“You’ve read it?” How dare he?
“It’s been on our fridge for weeks.”
“Your fridge. You live here?” How could she have missed that?
He nods. “I’m a third year, away on placements mostly. And you must live upstairs. With your son.”
“That wasn’t my son. I’m single.” Why is she telling him that, offering herself up to a sleazy married man? She switches to snooty cow. “If you could get my card, I’ll be on my way.”
His eyes linger on her chiffon blouse, tucked in at the waist. “Big night out?”
“Pride Night,” she says defiantly.
“Me too.”
That’s thrown her. A gay dad. Didn’t see that one coming. “Is Ivor babysitting your kids?”
“I’m not a parent. I was working at the bar that day.” He throws back his head and laughs. The sound is rich and throaty. Sexy. “That’s why I’m going to Pride Night. I do the odd bar shift at the Abbi.”
“Me too,” Tegan says again. She clears her throat. “I mean: I’m there to support the circus act. I’m not …”
“Shall we walk down together?” he asks.
She shrugs and nods, her best effort at nonchalance. She was going to drive, but, hey, the exercise …
He smiles. “I’ll get your postcard.”
Imogen
Imo’s acne is as bad as it’s ever been. Pits and peaks across her cheeks and chin. Vesuvius. Going make-up free hasn’t worked so far but the skin website she’s found says to allow six weeks. That’s all very well if you’re a hermit but she has lectures and she’s promised Phoenix and Riku she’ll go tonight. Maybe she can shift a few of the Jesus Christ Superstar tickets that Doris talked her into selling.
Bone-weary she lies down on her bed. The leaflet Jane Brown gave her is on the pillow. Step 5 to beating the blues: Make one effort every day. Step 6: Avoid isolation; spend time with others. She’s got close to throwing it in the bin many times, telling herself it’s disloyal to Amber to keep it. But Jane didn’t write the leaflet. Whoever did, talks sense. Even on the days when the advice is too hard to take, Imo knows it’s right.
True loyalty to Amber means getting well enough to face the train journey to Chadcombe to visit her. Even though Jane was arrested and Leonie taken into temporary foster care, finding Amber hasn’t been the happy ever after Imo hoped for. What-if dreams of Sophia still haunt her and her mood has stayed down, sinking so low for a few days that she missed lectures. Thank the lord for David and Lauren who kept her up to date with notes from Dr Wyatt. Tegan covered Business. They’ve got a new Accountancy lecturer as Hennessey is on long-term sick leave.
At least her depression is out in the open now. Step 1: Tell a friend how you feel. David was great, said his mother had bouts. He played it down: he and his dad have learnt to deal with it. His mum always comes through, lives her life. Lauren said she couldn’t see how anyone as hot and clever as Imo could get depressed. She didn’t get it at all, even when Imo told her about Sophia, but her words gave Imo a tiny flicker of light in a dark week. That and letting her hold her baby girl, Sophie. Not quite Sophia. Not Sophia at all, but still …
Lauren finally admitted to meeting Amber at the start of term. Amber had seen her with her baby and made a beeline for them, trying to be friends. The mother’s instinct in Lauren sensed something not right about the stranger. Amber’s interest in the baby seemed somehow desperate. She spent the next two days, until Amber disappeared, trying to shake her off. That was why she denied knowing her when Imo mentioned her at the audition.
But the desperation in Amber that unnerved Lauren made her understand Imo better than anyone. When they spoke on the phone, Amber recounted Imo’s symptoms right back at her. She had much to be depressed about: her father’s death, her drug abuse, falling out with her family, loss of her baby.
Yet Amber is nearer to a happy end than Imo will ever be. A shadow crosses her thoughts. What chance has she got of learning to live with her loss, when she can’t even grow out of acne? Maybe it’s time to try the counsellor Phoenix suggested.
Amber’s back at home, taking a BTEC drama course. There’s talk of drama school next year but Leonie comes first. Despite Amber’s fears, her family welcomed her home, begging forgiveness for not seeing what she was going through. Their lawyer thinks Amber’s mother will get the custody they’ve applied for, as the courts have already agreed to Mrs Murphy, Amber and Jade visiting Leonie at the foster carer’s.
Imo gives a big sigh. If Amber can come through all that, she can go to a Pride Night. She gets off the bed and puts on her leopard print platform boots.
The phone goes. Not now. She looks at the screen. Freddie? Odd, twice in two months. She wasn’t expecting him to call again after the audition. Unless …
Barely able to get her breath, she answers. “Hello?”
Silence, then Freddie’s voice: “There’s been another sighting.”
Acknowledgements
Thank you for reading The Roommates. I hope you enjoyed it.
I’d like to thank my editor Finn Cotton at HarperCollins for helping me knock the original draft into shape (a lot of knocking was needed, believe me), my agent Marilia Savvides and all at PFD for the continued support for my writing, and my copy editor Rhian McKay for her attention to detail.
Once again I’m indebted to the book bloggers and authors who’ve blogged, reviewed, tweeted and hosted me on their websites. Thank you to everyone who has taken the trouble to write a post about my books.
As with my previous novels, fellow writers Fergus Smith, Peter Garrett and Gillian Walker gave valuable advice on my early drafts and I thank them for their support.
Many thanks to the younger members of my family who stopped my student characters from being thirty years out of date, and to my husband Nigel for his enthusiasm, PR skills and proofreading.
If you’d like to know more about my writing and reading, please visit my website at:
https://www.rachelsargeant.co.uk/
I’m also on Twitter:
https://twitter.com/RachelSargeant3
And you can follow me on Bookbub: bit.ly/RachelSargeant
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If you’d be willing to write a short review of The Roommates, I would love to read it.
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About the Author
Rachel Sargeant grew up in Lincolnshire. She spent several years living in Germany where she taught English and she now lives in Gloucestershire with her husband and children. She is a previous winner of Writing Magazine’s Crime Short Story competition, and her writing has appeared in My Weekly. She has published three novels and her most recent, The Perfect Neighbours, became a top ten Kindle bestseller.
@RachelSargeant3
www.rachelsargeant.co.uk
Also by Rachel Sargeant
The Perfect Neighbours
The Good Teacher
The Roommates
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