‘Where have you been?’ Mum demands, as gently as she can manage.
She knows he won’t answer, but I see her shoulders relax with relief as she turns to Dad with a smile.
13
The crisis has passed and the house has gone from panic to calm. Soon it is as if nothing happened. Everyone’s back doing their own thing and I am back with the pain that has somehow spread while I wasn’t thinking about it and is definitely getting worse.
I wish I could focus on something else to put it out of my mind. I try to concentrate on the TV and then Sarah comes in with a basket of washing to fold and I watch her, as she bends and folds at the edge of my vision. My thoughts go back to Dan and the murder. Sarah looks busy but relaxed. It can’t be Dan who’s been charged. She would have heard something by now, wouldn’t she? But just because they’ve charged someone, that doesn’t mean they’ve definitely got the right man, does it?
A programme comes on about people who are training for the next Paralympics. There’s a woman with cerebral palsy who is hoping to compete in archery and even though I’ll never do anything like that, it is inspiring to watch her. She’s spent hours and hours each week practising to get this good and she looks so determined.
Still it’s difficult to concentrate. The pain won’t go away. I try thinking about Jodi instead – about her letter and how brilliant it would be to get another one. But nothing’s come. I hope she hasn’t changed her mind . . .
I’d love so much to be able to communicate with her. The professor guy who’s coming to Carlstone – could he have the answer for me? Even though the college thing is scary, the idea that I might be able to communicate is so huge that most of the time I don’t let myself think about it. All through my life people have tried different things – from pointing at letter boards to eye-gaze technology – but nothing worked. I remember when I was ten we all got excited because a new teacher taught me to say yes and no by blinking. But then I got really ill with an infection. I was in hospital for ages and when I felt better I couldn’t control my blinking any more.
Is there really a chance? I have so much I want to say – but I’m scared to hope. What if by the time I met my sister I could actually do it? When Sarah goes on about Dan I could interrupt her and tell her exactly what he’s really like. When Finn hides, I could tell them where he is or tempt him out myself with biscuits. And right now I could say that I’m in pain and where it hurts.
I know even if there is a way, it won’t be easy. I found it hard enough with the blinking. It was a lot of effort to control it. And all the questions made me feel panicky. I was used to watching, not deciding, and if I didn’t respond quickly people either kept repeating the question over and over, which was infuriating, or just gave up, which was even worse. And of course nobody ever asked me the questions I wanted them to ask.
Sometimes I blinked by accident and gave an answer I didn’t intend – I blinked ‘no’ when Mum asked if I’d like ketchup and ever since, for the last four years, she’s stopped giving it to me. I don’t like it on everything, but I really do like it on chips.
At least when I could blink I was able to show how much I knew and understood. They were amazed to see that I could read. I had an American teacher at school when I was six, Miss Moray, who taught us all as if we were as bright as any other six year olds. She went through all the letters and basic words. She said that’s what they do in the US. My next teacher didn’t bother with reading at all, but I’ve always read signs and labels, and Mum often put the subtitles on the TV too. What I found hard was making choices. Mum said she’d always known how bright I was, but I think she was the only one. Even Dad had never seemed sure although he’d tried hard not to show it.
After I couldn’t control the blinking, it’s hard to admit, but part of me felt relieved. It was a relief to go back to just watching and not having to decide. But it’s different now. I’d give anything for the chance to be able to do it again. I’m older and there’s so much I want to say. I want to talk to Jodi. I want to make my own choices. ‘Yes’ and ‘no’ won’t be enough, though – not to tell them about Dan.
This woman I’m watching has been training so hard and she’s studying at university too. Her disability is much milder than mine, but it is still impressive to watch. And she’s putting in all that effort with no certainty that she’ll even make it into the Paralympic team. It’s all about daring to hope, isn’t it? You have to dare to think you might win. If I dare to think I might communicate again, it might come true.
But it also might not. And the disappointment would be a million times harder.
The pain in my back is getting worse – a constant dull throb.
Sarah’s phone rings. It’s Richard. Sarah is still upset thinking Mum blames her for Finn going missing. She’s telling Richard about it. ‘No, no,’ she says – and I think he might have suggested coming over. ‘I’ve no time off until the weekend,’ she tells him. ‘I’ll be fine – it helps to talk to you. You’ve made me feel much better.’
She’s no sooner put down her phone than it rings again. She answers without even looking at the screen.
‘R– Dan, hi!’ She doesn’t tell him about Finn.
‘What, now ?’ she says. ‘I can’t – I’ve got to put Jemma to bed soon. And to be honest, I’m worn out. I’ve had such a crap day . . .’
I wonder what he’s saying. ‘No, no, you can’t,’ Sarah tells him.
Dan’s not like Richard, though – he won’t take no for an answer.
Sarah puts her phone down and sighs. ‘He’s coming over,’ she tells me. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to see him, it’s just that I’m so tired.’
So now I know for sure – the police haven’t got Dan. It must be someone else.
Mum comes downstairs and Sarah explains to her that Dan is popping in. Mum is clearly not happy from the abrupt tone of her voice.
‘He won’t be here long, I promise,’ says Sarah. ‘I tried to tell him not to, but he insisted.’
‘What a day,’ Mum says, sighing. ‘I feel like I’m going mad. Oh, Sarah – you didn’t borrow money from my purse, did you?’
‘What? No, I didn’t. Why would I have done that?’ Sarah demands.
‘I know you buy things for Jemma sometimes and I thought you might –’
‘I wouldn’t without asking!’ Sarah retorts.
‘Forget I said anything,’ Mum says sheepishly. ‘I probably spent it without realising.’
Sarah is silent. I feel so powerless. The tension between them hurts me inside and frightens me, but there’s nothing I can do. If Sarah’s not happy here, if she stops getting on with Mum, then she won’t want to stay.
Dan arrives half an hour later. I am still up and in the lounge. Mum and Dad are upstairs. I have a partial view into the hall and I am shocked to see him grab Sarah as she opens the door. For a moment I think he’s going to hurt her, but he pulls her towards him and kisses her hard. Sarah moves back, laughing awkwardly.
‘What’s up, babe?’ he asks, flinching as if reeling from her rejection.
‘Nothing’s up,’ Sarah tells him. She’s speaking quietly – but not too quietly for me to hear. ‘I’ve told you – you can’t keep turning up like this. You know what Lorraine –’
‘And I’ve told you, I can’t keep away, babe!’ says Dan. ‘Have you thought about what I said?’
‘You know how I feel about you,’ Sarah says softly. ‘But I have to be here overnight for Jemma – I can’t live at yours.’
‘Give up the job! I’ll take care of you.’ It’s Dan who’s speaking quietly now.
My heart lurches. She won’t do that, will she?
I listen hard to hear her reply. She starts with a kiss, which doesn’t feel like a good sign. I wish Mum hadn’t given her such a hard time. She’s feeling fed up here and now Dan’s offering her a way out. But what about me?
‘I want to be with you, but Jemma needs me,’ Sarah tells him, and I heave a sigh of relief
which comes out as a slight snort. Dan turns towards the lounge doorway and meets my eyes briefly with a look of disgust.
‘They’ll get someone else no problem,’ he says, turning back to Sarah. ‘There’s loads of people after carer jobs.’
‘I like my job,’ Sarah argues.
‘Do you, though? Really?’ Dan’s shaking his head. ‘You’ve got the patience of a saint, babe, but no one does this kind of job unless they have to.’
I feel my muscles tighten.
Sarah pauses. ‘I . . . Look, let’s talk about it properly next time I see you.’
‘I’ll take you out, then. When’re you free?’ Dan demands.
‘Hang on, I’ll check,’ Sarah tells him.
She’s gone to check her days on the calendar and my worst fear comes true. Dan comes into the living room. He stands close – bends over me – staring at me, screwing up his nose. Then he shakes his head. ‘You think she’s gonna stay here, don’t you? But you just wait –’
At that moment his mobile rings and he moves away as he answers it. I can breathe again though I’m horrified by the way he spoke to me.
‘Hiya, Billy! What’s up, mate?’ he says. His voice is quiet but brash, different from the cheerful, friendly one he uses with Sarah, and not that nasty voice he uses for me.
‘Yeah! It’s sorted? Behind the Co-op, is it? I know where you mean . . . Sure thing. See ya.’
He puts the phone in his pocket just as Sarah comes back.
‘I’ve got next Thursday off,’ she tells him.
‘That’s over a week away! You can stay over then, though, right?’
She nods, and then gives him a nudge towards the door, telling him he has to go now. He jokes that she’s always trying to get rid of him and Sarah rolls her eyes and points upstairs, like it’s because of Mum. Then Dan whispers something in Sarah’s ear and gives her another kiss.
I’m so relieved when he’s gone.
‘He loves me, Jemma,’ Sarah says dreamily, a little later, as she carefully brushes my teeth. She’s supporting my head with her other hand in case I suddenly jolt. ‘And I love him too.’
I feel sick. I wish I could tell her he’s a vile creep.
‘Big day tomorrow,’ she says, changing the subject. ‘Bet you’re excited!’
I’d almost forgotten about the college visit. I wonder what the professor will say. Is there really a chance . . .?
14
‘Have you seen Jemma’s red fleece?’ Sarah calls to Mum.
It’s chaos this morning as Sarah runs round finding last-minute things to put in my case. I seem to need an awful lot of stuff for one night’s stay. Mum is trying to finish her own packing and Dad is attempting to single-handedly get Olivia and Finn ready for school.
My back and tummy pain are even worse and I have this kind of fuzzy, giddy feeling. It’s definitely an infection. Sarah thinks it’s just anxiety about the day ahead. Typical. When I was anxious before they thought it was physical and now it’s the other way round.
‘Here it is,’ says Mum, handing my fleece to Sarah.
Mum turns to me and looks concerned. ‘There’s no need for you to be worried about today – I promise.’
The pain in my back has developed into a throb and it is spreading outwards, surging through me. I feel hot – too hot.
Someone’s speaking. Sarah’s moving closer. I think she says, ‘Something’s not right,’ but the words sound blurry. Her face, close to mine, is blurry too. Everything is spinning.
I am vaguely aware of being lifted out of my wheelchair, faces bending over me, voices talking. Then the jolting movement of the ambulance, the trolley, the white curtains swishing, bright lights, the drip, the monitor. These are all familiar to me. I’ve spent a lot of time at this hospital.
Mum is sitting by my bed now, holding my hand. Her hand is warm and safe. I drift off and wake to find the hand holding mine is larger, firmer. Mum has been replaced by Dad. Later it is a smaller, long-fingered hand, as Sarah chats away to me.
Mum jokes about the convenience of living only a ten-minute drive from the hospital. It wasn’t something she or Dad thought about when they bought the house years ago but it has proved very useful.
Mum, Dad and Sarah do a rota. There is always someone by my side. I am so glad they are there. I would completely panic otherwise. Some nurses do stuff without even bothering to talk to me, as if there’s no point explaining anything. Whoever’s with me will ask and make sure I know what’s going to happen, but I’d be terrified if some stranger just lifted my arm and started putting a needle in me or something.
Sarah squeezes my hand. She seems agitated. I can feel her pulse faster than it should be.
‘You awake, Jem?’ she says, seeing my eyes open. ‘How’re you feeling? The pain should be better after all the stuff they’re pumping into you.’
She gives a nod towards the drip and smiles.
She’s right. The pain is better, though I feel very weak and my head feels heavy and peculiar.
‘I’m so sorry I didn’t realise how bad it was, Jemma,’ she tells me, giving my hand another squeeze. ‘Your mum blames me for not spotting it earlier. I feel awful.’
Sarah thinks Mum blamed her for Finn going missing and now for this. I wish Mum would stop having a go at her.
It’s only the next day, when my head is a bit clearer, that it sinks in that I missed the trip to the college. I’m not going to meet the professor.
Mum seems to realise what I’m thinking.
‘Don’t worry, love, we’ll rearrange the trip. I actually spoke to Professor Spalding and he said he’d be very interested to meet you.’
She isn’t saying, ‘And he’s sure he can help.’
But at least there is still a chance.
I’m dozing, aware that Sarah is holding my hand. She’s been here for a long time. When I manage to open my eyes briefly I see that hers are half closing. Then suddenly there’s a voice. Someone else is in the room.
‘Hi, babe,’ he says.
My stomach clenches.
Sarah sits up and turns round.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asks. It’s something she seems to say to Dan a lot.
‘I was worried about you – sitting here for hours on end. And I was right to worry, eh? Look at you. You’re knackered.’
‘I’m OK,’ Sarah says.
‘Yeah, sure,’ he says, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘Come on, let me take you for a coffee.’
‘But I can’t leave Jemma,’ Sarah says, sounding shocked that he would suggest it.
‘She’ll be all right,’ says Dan. ‘It’s not like she can run off or anything.’
‘Dan!’ Sarah exclaims.
‘Tell you what, I’ll stay with Jemma while you get a coffee,’ says Dan. ‘That way she won’t be on her own and you get a break. Win, win.’
‘I shouldn’t . . . but . . . oh, babe, would you really do that?’ Sarah asks. He leans forwards and kisses her.
If there is any time that I’d most want Sarah’s mind-reading skills to kick in, this would be it. With every thought, I urge her to stay. I want her to see it in my eyes. But she’s not even looking at me.
‘If you’re worried at all, press that bell,’ Sarah tells him. ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine, though.’
She turns to me, stroking my arm. I stare at her – hoping she will see the distress on my face. I even try to make a sound, but just a horrid ‘erhhhhh’ comes out.
‘I’ll be back in five minutes, I promise,’ she assures me.
Then she’s gone.
15
Dan doesn’t sit down beside my bed and hold my hand – which is a relief. Instead he paces round the bed slowly. I begin to wish he would sit down. I am happier when I can see him than when I can’t and when he’s on the other side of the bed I can’t see him at all. Now he’s back on this side.
Is he really here because he can’t bear to be apart from Sarah . . . or is he checking up on her?
He fixes me with a sarcastic smile. ‘Always causing trouble, aren’t you, Jemma? It would be much easier if they just kept you here. Or . . .’
He’s moved back from the bed now and he seems to be looking closely at everything – the tube going into me from the drip with antibiotics, the plugs in the wall.
I can see what he’s doing. He’s trying to wind me up again – pretending to look for a way to switch me off ! At least, I hope he’s pretending . . .
No! He’s crouching down by the wall. He’s actually doing it! I want Sarah. I need Sarah. A gurgling noise comes from deep in my throat. Dan stands up, holding a plug in his hand, laughing. ‘What’s that? Is that the best you can do for a scream?’
Then I realise – the lamp beside my bed has gone off. He’s pulled out the plug! I shouldn’t have panicked. Of course, I’m not on a life support machine. I was just so scared of him . . . I know he wants me out of the way. He wants Sarah to himself.
He pushes the plug back and chuckles as the light flickers on.
I wish Sarah would come back. It must have been five minutes by now.
He comes nearer, sits down on the chair by my bed. I listen to his heavy breathing. I wait – unsure what he’s going to do next. He’s still looking around. I can see his eyes on the box of disposable gloves. Now he’s looking behind me. Does he have his eye on my pillow? Am I imagining it – or is he still thinking of ways . . .?
‘All OK?’
Sarah’s voice is such a welcome relief I feel myself sink back against the softness of the bed. The thudding in my chest slows down.
‘Yeah, Jemma’s been just fine,’ Dan assures her.
‘It was so sweet of you to do this,’ Sarah says, kissing him.
‘Any time,’ Dan tells her, ‘no prob.’ He kisses her back.
Dan leaves, giving me a parting smile that makes my heart shudder. Sarah sits down and soon a nurse comes in to check my pulse, temperature and blood pressure.
She tuts. ‘Pulse is higher than it should be,’ she comments. ‘I’ll get a doctor to check her.’
I Have No Secrets Page 5