The Black Sheep

by Sophie McKenzie

  Please be okay.

  ‘Come on,’ Harry urges. ‘Let’s get her out of here.’

  I join him at the door. The two of us square up to it. ‘On my count,’ Harry orders.

  ‘Three. Two.’

  I brace myself.

  ‘One.’

  I put everything I’ve got into my body blow. Beside me Harry rams the door with his shoulder. It doesn’t budge.

  We try again. Twice. Still nothing.

  ‘Damn it.’ Harry stomps across the attic floor, exuding frustration.

  ‘Mummy?’ Ruby’s voice is thick and blurry. ‘Mummy?’

  My stomach gives a lurch. I rush over and kneel beside her. Ruby’s eyes are open at last. Fearful, dazed, she blinks at me.

  ‘Where am I?’ she says.

  ‘Granddad’s house,’ I say, leaning closer. ‘Are you all right, Rubes? Does anything hurt?’

  Her lips are dry. She opens and closes her mouth. ‘But . . . but . . .’

  I stroke her hair. ‘Just rest a moment.’

  Harry is still pacing around the attic, but I’m soaking up my Ruby, touching her face, her arms. She feels warm, unbroken. I pull her towards me.

  ‘What happened?’ she asks, tears moistening her eyes. ‘I was in the . . . we ordered milkshakes . . .’

  ‘I know, I know.’ I stroke her hair. ‘Some bad people put us up here but we’re going to get out.’ I hesitate. ‘Does it hurt anywhere, Ruby?’ I can’t help but glance down at her jeans. Dex was adamant he hadn’t hurt her, but . . .

  ‘No, just my head aches,’ Ruby says thickly.

  I nod, relieved.

  ‘Over here.’ Harry’s voice breaks through: strong and urgent. ‘I think I’ve got something.’

  ‘What is it?’ I ask, standing up.

  ‘Mummy?’

  ‘I’ll be right here.’ I go over to Harry. Ruby sits up, following me with her eyes. She looks pale and frightened but she seems okay, thank God.

  ‘We’re going to break out,’ Harry says grimly.

  ‘How?’ I demand, looking wildly around. ‘We can’t shift the door and there aren’t any windows.’

  ‘We’re not going through the door or the windows,’ Harry says. ‘We’re going through the ceiling.’

  My jaw drops. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s easier than it sounds.’ Harry indicates a patch of roof in the corner where the sloping ceiling is at its lowest. ‘Follow me.’

  Baffled, I follow him to the corner. ‘Now tap the slope. All the way across.’

  I knock on the ceiling with my knuckles. Harry listens carefully.

  ‘What are we looking for?’ I ask.

  ‘A place between the struts.’ He taps at the ceiling just an inch above my own hands. The sound is hollow. ‘There.’

  Ruby staggers to her feet. ‘Mummy, why are . . .? What’s going on?’

  ‘Don’t worry about anything,’ I urge. ‘Harry and I are going to get us out of here.’

  Harry drags the box of old silverware towards me. He’s using the hand that isn’t cut. The other hangs by his side in its makeshift bandage. He deposits the box at my feet. It’s full of silver: picture frames, a bud vase, a pair of matching goblets and of course the mirror with its broken shards hanging half out of the frame. The tips of two tarnished candlesticks peek out, just visible above a large, heavily scratched bonbonnière. Harry grabs one of the candlesticks in his good hand.

  ‘Take the other,’ he orders. ‘Grip it hard.’

  I do as he says.

  ‘Now ram it against the slope like this.’ He bangs at the ceiling just above our heads with his unbandaged fist.

  I stare at him.

  ‘It’s just plasterboard, it’ll give.’ He turns to Ruby and gives her a huge wink. ‘We’ll be okay, won’t we, Arsenal?’

  She nods, her eyes like huge saucers.

  ‘Ruby, stand back a bit.’ She obediently shuffles away across the floor. I clutch the candlestick and give the sloping ceiling a thwack. The board cracks. I turn to Harry with a triumphant grin.

  Taking it in turns we hit at the plasterboard. Within seconds a small hole appears, then a series of splintering cracks spreading out from the hole.

  ‘Yay!’ Ruby’s voice rises in a squeal.

  ‘Ssh!’ I say, though if Dex and Lucy are still on the second floor, just below us, they are bound to hear us pounding the plasterboard anyway.

  ‘It’s going to work,’ Harry says with a smile. ‘Keep going.’

  I take aim and drive the candlestick at the centre of the cracks. Again. Again. Again.

  ‘What about what’s on the other side?’ I ask, stopping to catch my breath for a second. ‘How will we get through that?’

  ‘The plasterboard is nailed onto beams about forty centimetres wide,’ Harry explains. ‘All we have to do is push out the struts and the tiles that go between them. Then I’ll crawl out onto the roof.’

  ‘The roof?’

  Our eyes meet.

  ‘To call for help,’ Harry says.

  Suddenly I’m not sure. I glance down at Harry’s hand. A dark spot is spreading across the strip of cotton tied around the skin.

  ‘I can do it,’ he insists. ‘Come on, keep going.’

  We carry on hammering against the plasterboard. Another few thwacks and we’ve made a big enough hole to see the insulation on the other side.

  Harry reaches in and grabs a handful with his good hand. ‘Now we just have to pull that out.’

  I follow his lead. The insulation is dark yellow: thick and rough and scratchy. It sticks to my fingers as I hurl it to the attic floor. ‘How do you know about roofs?’ I ask.

  ‘Worked on a building site when I was a student.’ Harry grins at me. ‘Remember? Instead of a poncey gap year in Thailand?’

  ‘Right.’ I nod, coughing as dust from the insulation rises into the air.

  Behind me Ruby coughs too. I swing around. ‘Are you all right?’

  She nods, her little face tense.

  ‘Move back, Arsenal, yeah?’ Harry winks at her.

  Obediently she scuttles backwards.

  I yank out another chunk of insulation and throw it to the floor. The struts that run between the beams come into view, the tiles slanting down on top.

  I point to the tiles. ‘What about those?’

  ‘We just push them out.’ Harry is already knocking at the nearest one with his candlestick. It shifts slightly. I take aim and strike hard. My tile doesn’t budge.

  ‘More,’ Harry commands. ‘Harder.’

  I put my whole bodyweight behind the punch. I land a clean blow. Yes. The tile slides sideways, letting in a blast of cold air.

  ‘That’s it.’ Using his good hand, Harry pushes my tile clean out. Then three more. One by one they clatter softly down the roof. I hold my breath, hoping the noise won’t have travelled through the house to wherever Dex is.

  Harry, clearly having the same thought, looks towards the door. We wait, listening hard. There’s no sound of voices, no footsteps. I grin at him and push out the last tile in the row. We’ve done it. We’ve made a hole big enough to crawl through. Across the room Ruby is smiling too, though her eyes are still wide with fear.

  Harry reaches through the gap, a hand on either side of the hole. As he clutches the edge of the tiles with his bandaged hand his face contorts with pain. He tries to haul himself up, but it’s clearly agony.

  ‘Shit,’ he gasps.

  ‘I’ll go.’ My heart thuds. I’m not afraid of going out there, but I don’t want to leave Ruby without me. Not now I’ve just found her.

  Harry grimaces.

  ‘It’s fine,’ I insist. ‘Just . . .’ I look around at Ruby.

  Harry leans in so only I can hear his whisper.

  ‘I won’t let anything happen to her.’

  I hesitate. If I’m out on the roof yelling for help and Dex hears me he will come for Ruby to stop me. And how will Harry be able to prevent that?

  ‘It’s our only sh
ot,’ Harry hisses.

  He’s right about that. Unless . . . I look around the room, trying to work out where the hole in the sloping roof is located in relation to the house below. We’re at the front of the building, and on the right-hand side. Which means the room immediately beneath is Mum’s old office on the second floor. I was in there earlier when Lucy told me about Uncle Perry being the head of PAAUL. I felt sick and opened the window. I remember leaning on the deep ledge outside. But did I push the sash down again? Did I lock it?

  I rack my brains. I’m certain I lowered the window, but not all the way. I definitely didn’t lock it.

  I turn to Harry and whisper my plan. His eyes widen as he moves closer, his breath hot on my ear. ‘That sounds suicidal,’ he hisses.

  ‘I can do it.’ I hurry over to Ruby. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ I give her a hug and a kiss, shoot Harry a final glance, then I haul myself out, clambering onto the cold, damp tiles. The wind whips around me, searing through my thin jumper. The moon, so bright in the sky just an hour earlier, is covered with thick grey clouds. It’s about to chuck it down; already spits of moisture are landing on my face.

  ‘Mummy!’ Ruby’s plaintive cry follows me as the cold air sweeps across my face. I can hear Harry reassuring her as I hoist myself properly onto the tiles. The roof slopes at about forty-five degrees. I’m halfway down with my feet just above the gutter. I look up into the night sky: navy and steel. For a second I feel a strange sense of peace. And then I look down.

  The roof falls away to the street. It seems to spin around me, empty, far away. Wind dashes my hair in my face. I shake it off.

  A man with a dog is walking by, right underneath.

  Forgetting my fears about Dex hearing I cry out instinctively. ‘Help! Help!’ My words are whipped away, into the wind. A crack of thunder sounds in the distance. The spits of rain become pellets. Shit. I needn’t have worried about anyone inside the house hearing me . . . I can barely hear myself.

  I turn back to the roof, heart pounding, and claw at the tiles beneath me. My jeans and trainers are already damp, my hair plastered to my forehead.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Harry asks from inside.

  ‘Mummy!’ Ruby wails again.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I yell, though I have no idea if they can hear me. Back to plan A. I am going to lower myself down off the roof, clamber back into the house through Mum’s old office window and get Harry and Ruby out of the attic so we can all escape. I run through the layout of the building again: the second-floor office window is just below the gutter. It has a wide window ledge. There will be room for my feet on that. It’s doable. I just have to trust that I won’t fall.

  I inch down, slowly, my body pressed as close to the roof as possible. It’s a savage drop to the ground below. I don’t look down.

  Furious thoughts whirl in my head. This is all Dex’s fault. And Perry’s. And that of everyone who belongs to or believes in PAAUL. What cowards. What selfish bastards they are. My legs dangle over the gutter. I feel for the wall beneath. Crawl sideways like a crab till I feel the brick turn to the glass of the office window. I have to lower myself now, give up my body. Slowly, slowly, I let myself down until only my chest and head and arms are still on the roof.

  My feet flail, looking for purchase. Where is the window ledge? I visualise the box with the blue flowers Mum used to keep there. I know the ledge is there. I know it is deep enough for me to stand on. I just have to trust those things.

  I lower myself further.

  Further.

  My body slides down. Down. My arms stretch and strain. Oh, God. I grip the gutter, it’s taking my whole weight, cutting into my hands.

  Where’s the ledge?

  Blood pumps furiously at my temples. The pain sears through my armpits, along my arms and up into my wrists. I can last maybe five more seconds like this. Four. Panic rises. Three. I’m kicking. Reaching for the ledge. Two. Where is it?

  I can’t hold my whole weight through my arms any longer. I have to find the ledge.

  I brace myself, panic clutching my throat, too terrified to scream.

  And then my hands slip.

  HARRY

  Harry peers through the hole in the sloping ceiling. All he can see are wet tiles and dark sky. His cut hand throbs painfully but he barely notices.

  Where is she?

  ‘Fran!’ he yells. The sound is sucked away by the storm. The rain drives against his face. He reaches out to the tiles, pressing down, testing his cut hand. It hurts to the touch. Any weight and the hurt turns to agony. He grimaces to himself, the worry building. There’s no way he can clamber out there.

  ‘Is Mummy all right?’ Ruby’s voice is plaintive and wavering.

  ‘She’s fine,’ he says, hoping it’s true. Blinking away the raindrops he turns to the little girl at his feet. ‘Hey, Arsenal,’ he says, attempting a smile in order to win one from her.

  She stares up at him with trembling lips.

  Harry tries to swallow his own fears but he can’t stop himself picturing Fran out there in the wind and rain. He imagines her hanging by her fingertips from the gutter, trying to get into the room below. She’s over two floors up. She’ll fall to her death. Christ, he should never have let her go out there.

  ‘So how often d’you play football?’ he asks.

  ‘Every week on Saturdays.’ Ruby’s eyes follow him as he walks over to the attic door and presses his ear against the wood. There are no sounds. At least that hopefully means Dex isn’t directly underneath them on the second floor.

  ‘Attacking or defending?’ he asks. ‘Which d’you like best?’

  Ruby purses her mouth, considering. ‘Attacking, scoring goals.’ Her voice is small and shaky.

  ‘Me too,’ Harry says with a grin. ‘At least I used to, when I played.’ He gulps. If Fran has fallen, then it’s up to him to save her daughter.

  He goes back to Ruby and crouches down in front of her.

  ‘I know you’re scared,’ he says. ‘And it’s okay to be scared. But there’s nothing to worry about. I’m going to look after you until your mum gets back. I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you. Okay?’

  She nods and her huge, solemn, trusting eyes break his heart.

  FRAN

  My hands slip. Only the tips of my fingers on the absolute edge of the gutter. I’m stretched to my limit, agony through my arms, my shoulders.

  There. At last I feel the broad concrete of the window ledge beneath me.

  I ease myself down and stand, panting for breath for a few seconds. Then I gingerly feel for the gap at the bottom of the window. Thank God the opening is still there. I hook my right foot under the window and lift the sash. It slides up and I ease my way down the glass and into the room beneath.

  There’s no time to catch my breath. I have to get to Ruby and Harry. I creep across Mum’s old office to the door. I’m now on the second floor. The narrow steps up to the attic room are just a few feet away, on the other side of the square landing. I pause, listening for sounds from the rest of the house. The murmur of low voices rises up the stairs. Heart racing, I tiptoe across the landing. The floor creaks as I reach the base of the steps up to the attic. I put my foot on the bottom step as a familiar, crotchety voice drifts up from the floor below.

  ‘I’m telling you, Lucy, I could go to jail.’ It’s Uncle Perry. I freeze. What is Perry doing here? Has he come to oversee Dex killing us?

  My sister says something I can’t catch.

  ‘It just can’t come out. I’d be ruined. I need it, Lucy.’ Perry’s querulous tone gets louder. He’s directly beneath me, at the bottom of the stairs that lead up here. I glance towards the attic door. The bolts are firmly in place. I won’t be able to slide them back without making at least some noise. Perry will see me as soon as he reaches the top of the stairs anyway.

  ‘Where is it? In the office?’ Perry goes on.

  Does he mean the office up here? My uncle’s heavy footstep on the stairs tells me he does.
There’s no time for me to hide. I hold my breath, flattening myself against the wall, praying he will somehow walk past and not notice me.

  ‘No. Wait.’ That’s Lucy. She sounds out of breath. ‘Stop.’

  Perry pauses halfway up the stairs. He’s looking down at Lucy, as I am looking down at him. His thinning grey hair is a neat line above the pinstripe of his suit jacket collar, there’s a sharp crease at the top of the sleeves.

  Make him go back down.

  ‘It’s all gone too far. I need to—’ Perry turns and takes another step up the stairs. Our eyes meet.

  Shit.

  ‘Francesca!’ His eyes almost pop out of his head as he stomps up the rest of the way to the landing. ‘What are—?’ More footsteps pattering up the stairs. Lucy flies up next to him, breathless. The two of them face me, then Uncle Perry turns accusingly to my sister. ‘What is she doing here?’

  Lucy gapes, clearly at a loss for words.

  ‘How could you?’ Fury fills me to my fingertips. ‘Your own great-niece. And Caspian. All the other doctors. How could you?’

  I’m half-expecting some grandly pompous justification but instead Uncle Perry’s eyes fill with confusion. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘You’re the most evil person I’ve ever met. And you can hide all you like behind your stupid religion but you’re a coward. You and all the people in PAAUL.’

  Perry is slack-jawed. He genuinely looks completely bewildered. ‘Have you gone mad, Francesca?’

  Jesus, he can’t even admit to what he’s done, even after getting Dex to kidnap Ruby and me and Harry. He’s beneath my contempt.

  ‘Where’s Dex?’ I ask Lucy. ‘Has he gone?’ I need to know if my uncle is the only one holding us here, because he doesn’t seem to have a gun or a knife and whereas Dex is muscular and armed, I reckon Harry and I could easily take Perry between us.

  ‘Dex was here?’ Perry turns to Lucy too. ‘Dex was here as well? Dear Lord. Why didn’t you sell tickets?’

  Confusion floods through me. Surely Perry knows Dex was here.

  ‘He said he was going abroad tonight,’ Lucy says. ‘Leaving the country forever. A fresh start.’