Drive By

by Jim Carrington

  The old man smiles at me. ‘Thank you. I really appreciate what you’ve done,’ he says. ‘Not many kids your age would do the same.’

  Summer

  Mum may not be willing to tell me where she put the other tape. She may not want me to listen to it. But if she’s gonna spend her whole life at work, there’s not much she can do to stop me looking for the tape and then listening to it when I find it.

  The tapes were hidden in her wardrobe. So now here I am, sitting on the sofa, listening to the second tape hissing and crackling and then the same medium’s voice going through all the warning stuff and asking Nan if she’s ready to start.

  My heart races as I listen to the silence on the tape, waiting for someone to speak. A doubt flits through my mind momentarily. Maybe I should switch this off now. Maybe Mum’s right and I don’t need to hear this. Maybe it can only do harm. But then I hear the medium’s voice change, like someone is starting to talk through her. I forget everything else and just listen.

  ‘Hello, Mum?’ the voice says. ‘It’s me. James.’

  ‘James?’ Nan says. She sounds even more nervous than she did on the other tape.

  ‘Yes. It’s me.’

  No one speaks for a while. All I can hear is the hiss of the tape and then a clunking sound.

  ‘What did you mean, James?’ Nan says. ‘The other week, you sounded surprised when I said it was an accident. What did you mean?’

  There’s silence again.

  ‘What happened, James?’ Nan says. She sounds desperate, upset.

  There’s no answer.

  ‘James? Are you still there?’

  There’s more hissing and crackling, but no voices.

  ‘Yes,’ comes the answer eventually.

  ‘What did you mean about the accident?’ Nan says, her voice breaking.

  A long silence. It’s creepy. It makes my heart pound. I want to know what he meant. I have to.

  ‘There was no accident,’ the medium says in a husky voice. ‘It was meant to be.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Nan says.

  ‘Nothing happens by accident.’

  ‘Did someone kill you on purpose, James?’ Nan says.

  There’s a long pause. The tape starts to click as it plays.

  ‘I was angry,’ the voice says. ‘I was angry because of what happened the day before.’

  ‘What do you mean, James?’ Nan says, sounding terrified.

  There’s a silence that feels like it’s going on for ever.

  ‘The argument,’ the voice says. ‘I was still angry.’

  ‘Our argument?’ I’m sure I can hear tears in Nan’s voice. She sounds distraught.

  Another pause.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I didn’t mean . . . I’m sorry . . .’ Nan starts to say, but her voice is full of tears, so full that she has to stop.

  There’s another pause.

  ‘I didn’t mean to do it,’ the voice says. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself, Mum. I was selfish.’

  Nobody speaks for a while. In the background I hear something that I think is Nan sobbing. And I feel like sobbing with her. This is horrible. I feel ill.

  ‘It happened because I was angry. If it was anyone’s fault it was mine,’ the voice says.

  Nan doesn’t answer.

  ‘I was stupid. It was a reckless thing to do,’ the voice goes on.

  Silence.

  ‘Look after the kids for me,’ the voice says. ‘Make sure Rose is all right. I’m sorry.’

  I hear a noise, like someone taking a deep breath. Then Nan’s voice, like she’s trying really hard to stop the tears. ‘I will, James. I will.’

  Then a long silence. All I can hear is the hiss and crackle of the tape till the medium speaks again, this time in her own voice.

  ‘He’s gone, Jean.’

  Nan says something quietly to the medium, something I can’t hear. I hear her blow her nose and then the tape clunks as it stops.

  I sit where I am for ages after the tape has stopped. I’m too shocked to move. I don’t know what to think. I’m not sure I wanted to hear those things. I kind of wish there was a way that I could delete what I’ve just learned from my memory.

  My phone starts to ring. I look down at the screen. It’s Mum calling. I get a pang of guilt. I feel like I’ve betrayed her trust. How can I pretend that I’ve never heard what I’ve just heard? I take a deep breath and answer the call.

  ‘Hello, Mum.’

  ‘Hi, Summer. Listen, I’m just calling because your grandad’s just phoned me from hospital.’

  My stomach turns over. ‘What’s Grandad doing in hospital? Is he OK?’

  ‘Yes, I think so, love. He had a fall. He’s sprained his ankle.’

  ‘Oh. Is that serious?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Hopefully not,’ Mum says. ‘Listen, I’m going to leave work now and go and pick him up from the hospital.’

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘There’s not really anything to do,’ Mum says. ‘I just want to make sure he’s OK, that’s all.’

  ‘Can I come and see him?’

  ‘OK. Why don’t you head over towards Raynes Park. I’ll let you know when we’re on our way.’

  ‘OK. See you soon.’

  I hang up. I sit on the sofa and stare into space for a while till my phone beeps. A text message from Johnny. I open it up immediately.

  Sorry I went a bit weird on u earlier. Too tired! Wanna meet 2moro? J

  I text him straight back and arrange to meet him tomorrow afternoon. Getting away from this flat and this family for a bit will do me good.

  Johnny

  Last night was the the best night’s sleep I’ve had in weeks. I think I kind of stirred around 2.43 a.m., but it felt different. It didn’t feel like anyone else was there and I went straight back to sleep. Maybe this is it. Maybe I’m starting to deal with it. The sun is shining. I feel good.

  I pull the newspaper trolley along behind me, stopping at each house to post the free newspapers through the doors. But before I know it, I’m halfway up Exminster Avenue and the old feeling returns. Guilt. The knot in my stomach. I stop where I am. I can see the silver car parked on the road outside number fifteen still, in the same place the old man parked it yesterday before he tumbled over. There’s a tin of baked beans I must have missed yesterday when I was tidying up, resting against the front wheel of the car.

  I wonder how he is now. When I left yesterday, as the ambulance was getting ready to take him to hospital, he seemed all right. He was in a lot of pain, but the paramedics said he’d probably just sprained his ankle badly. Nothing worse than that.

  I walk along the pavement, taking the newspapers and pushing them through the doors of the next couple of houses, till I get to number fifteen. I stand and stare at it. The porch is closed and so is the front door. The blinds are all drawn. I wonder whether he’s here or whether they kept him in hospital. I wonder whether he has anyone – any family – to help him out.

  I take a paper from the trolley and bend over to pick the can up from beside the wheel of the car. I open the little gate at the front of the house and walk up to the porch door. I feel nervous. I reach out and press the doorbell. I hear it ring inside. I stand and wait.

  The doors remain closed. No answer. He must be in hospital still. They must have kept him in overnight. I look at the tin in my hand and wonder what I should do with it. I decide to give the doorbell another ring and if he doesn’t answer the door, I’ll just put the paper through the door and leave the can by the side of the porch. I reach up and press the doorbell again. Then I wait and I wait and I wait.

  After a minute or so, I place the beans down beside the door, fold the paper and push it through the letter box. It falls to the floor. I turn and head back to the trolley. But as I’m closing the gate behind me, I hear the sound of someone putting keys into the front door. I turn and watch as the front door opens. The old man stands there, a big blue boot on
his injured foot, resting his weight on a crutch. I feel bad that I made him come out. I go back through the gate, pick up the baked beans and wait for him to unlock the porch door.

  Summer

  I put my key in the front door and twist it. I push the door open and go inside. I’m just about to call out to Grandad to say I’m here when I realise there’s a voice coming from the lounge. Grandad’s voice. I think for a second that he must be on the phone to someone, till I hear another voice.

  I walk through the hallway and towards the lounge. As I get to the doorway, I stop and stare. Grandad’s sitting in his chair nattering to someone. He looks up at me and smiles.

  ‘Hi, Summer,’ he says.

  ‘Hi, Grandad,’ I say.

  Then I look across the room at the sofa. And in that moment the world seems to shift on its axis. Nothing seems to make sense.

  ‘This is –’

  ‘Johnny!’ I say.

  Johnny gets up from the sofa. He looks at me, confused, terrified. His mouth opens like he’s about to say something, but no sound comes out.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I say.

  He looks down at the carpet and then across at Grandad. ‘I . . .’

  ‘Johnny is the lad that picked me up when I fell over yesterday,’ Grandad says.

  I turn and look at Grandad. He’s got a wide smile on his face.

  ‘He’s a guardian angel,’ Grandad says, beaming. ‘This lad picked me up off the pavement and called an ambulance for me. He even cleaned up the cut on my head and got me some ice for my ankle. He waited until the paramedics turned up and everything.’

  My mind spins. ‘Wow,’ I say. I turn to Johnny. He’s standing there looking awkward. ‘You did all that? For my grandad?’

  Johnny looks down at the ground again. He shrugs. Why’s he being so modest?

  ‘He did. This lad deserves a medal,’ Grandad says. ‘Called in today as well to check I was OK.’

  I smile at Johnny. I go over and wrap my arms around him, squeeze him tight. But he just stands there, stiff and awkward.

  ‘I take it you two know each other, then?’ Grandad says, laughing.

  I let go of Johnny and let out a little laugh. ‘Yeah, we do. Don’t we, Johnny?’

  Johnny nods his head hesitantly.

  ‘Small world, hey,’ Grandad says.

  Johnny moves forward. ‘Listen, Mr Hornby, Summer, I’d better go,’ he says. ‘I should deliver the rest of the newspapers.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Right. Was it something I said?’

  Johnny looks at me and shakes his head. He looks really shy, nervous. I wonder if it’s because he’s shocked or whether he feels nervous in front of Grandad.

  ‘Thank you for checking on me, Johnny,’ Grandad says. ‘I really appreciate it. Summer, will you pass my wallet, please.’ Grandad takes a ten-pound note and holds it out. ‘Take this, Johnny, won’t you? By way of a thank you.’

  Johnny shakes his head. ‘No, thank you,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t possibly take any money.’

  Grandad shrugs. ‘Please,’ he says.

  Johnny shakes his head. ‘Really, please don’t. I don’t deserve it.’ He starts moving towards the door. ‘Goodbye, Mr Hornby.’

  I walk with him to the front door.

  ‘I can’t believe you did that for my grandad,’ I say.

  Johnny half-smiles. ‘It’s nothing, really.’

  ‘You’re like my knight in shining armour,’ I say. I kiss him on the lips.

  Johnny doesn’t kiss back. He stares at me for a second, then turns towards the door.

  ‘Are we still meeting this afternoon?’ I say.

  He turns back to me, looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights for a second.

  I smile at him.

  He nods. ‘Yeah. Course.’

  ‘Three o’clock?’

  He nods. And then he opens the door and leaves.

  Johnny

  I grab the newspaper trolley and pull it behind me as fast as I can. There’s no way I’m delivering the rest of the papers right now though. I can’t think straight. I need to get home. My head’s spinning round and round in circles. I’m struggling to think what all this means, what the repercussions are.

  It feels unreal, like this should be an elaborate practical joke, like at any moment someone’s gonna jump out from behind a bush and start laughing at how gullible I am. If only. This is real. And I’m the one that has to deal with it.

  When I get back home, I leave the newspaper trolley out at the front of the house. I go upstairs to my room and shut the door behind me. I lie down on my bed, stare at the ceiling and start to think.

  So, Summer is the Poisoned Dwarf’s granddaughter. And because of me Summer’s grandma is dead. Summer thinks I’m some kind of superhero for rescuing her grandad, but she has no idea what I’ve really done. And I don’t know whether I can ever look her in the eye again.

  Maybe I should say something to her this afternoon. Come clean. Tell her what I did. Tell her that her grandma would still be alive if it wasn’t for me. That would be the bravest thing to do, wouldn’t it? The right thing to do.

  I hear footsteps thumping up the stairs and then across the landing. My bedroom door swings open and Mikey and his mate Asif bundle into my room, back from staying the night at Asif’s house. They stop dead as they see me. I sit up on my bed. Mikey and Asif look petrified as they stare at me, but then they glance at each other and laugh.

  ‘What the hell are you doing in here?’ I yell at them.

  They look at each other and laugh again.

  ‘Nothing,’ Mikey says. ‘I didn’t know you were in.’

  ‘What? This is my room. You’re not allowed in here whether I’m here or not. Understand?’

  Mikey smiles. ‘Yes, I understand. You have a lot of secrets, Johnny. Sorry,’ he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, ‘I just got confused and forgot which room was yours and which was mine.’

  Mikey and Asif laugh, then they charge out of my room and back downstairs. I lie back on my bed. I need to decide what to do.

  Summer

  Johnny is late. I’m sitting on the bench, waiting. There’s no sign of him. It’s been ten minutes now. I take my phone out. I go to the text messages and check I have the right time for meeting up. I do. He’s definitely late. I write a text and send it to him.

  Am in the park. Are you nearly here? X

  My finger lingers over the button. Should I send it? Is it too naggy? Actually, so what if it is naggy? I press the button and in the blink of an eye the message is sent.

  I sit and I wait for him to reply.

  Time ticks by. Seconds feel like hours. And every passing second fails to bring with it a message from Johnny. Why isn’t he here? If there was a good reason, like he’d missed the bus or something, he’d have called or texted, wouldn’t he?

  I look at my watch. Fifteen minutes late. I start to think about how long I’ll give him. I’m not waiting here for ever, that’s for sure. I decide on twenty minutes. If he’s any later than that, he’ll find that I’ve gone.

  Johnny

  I lay on my bed for ages deciding whether this was the right thing to do. I wanted to stay at home. I didn’t want to come out and face Summer. I can’t begin to think how much she’s gonna hate me when she finds out.

  It would have been easy to make an excuse about why we couldn’t meet and to have kept making excuses till she finally got tired of me and went and found someone else instead. It would have hurt her feelings a bit probably, but nowhere near as much as I’ll be hurting them when I tell her the truth.

  I spent so long thinking about it that by the time I left the house it was almost time to meet. I’m such an idiot. I’ve heard my phone go already, felt it vibrate in my pocket, but I’ve ignored it. I knew it would be her, asking where I was. I couldn’t look at it, I don’t know why. Maybe because it might have changed my mind and I would have got straight on to a bus back home.

  I hurry through
the park, dodging in and out of all the people lazily taking a sunny afternoon stroll.

  Up ahead, I see her. She checks her watch and then gets up from the bench. She looks like she’s had enough – she’s ready to leave. I bet she thinks she’s been stood up. I rush over.

  ‘Summer. I’m sorry I’m late.’

  She gives me a look, raises an eyebrow, but then she smiles. ‘Why didn’t you text me?’ she says. ‘I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes.’

  I start racking my brain for an excuse, but I realise there’s no point. I’m not lying any more, not to anyone. ‘Sorry.’

  She sighs. ‘I’ll forgive you,’ she says, ‘seeing as you came to my grandad’s rescue.’ She winks at me. And then she throws her arms around me and kisses me on the lips.

  I freeze. This is wrong. I can’t let her do this. I can’t act like nothing is wrong. But I don’t know how to stop this, how to take control. Should I kiss her back? Should I come right out and tell her the truth now? I mean, what’s the point in delaying the agony? Why not tell her now so we can go our separate ways and start to get over it?

  Eventually Summer lets go of me. She takes a step back and looks at me. She raises an eyebrow, like she’s confused. ‘Are you OK?’

  I look down at the ground. This is the time. Right now. I need to tell her now. My eyes stay fixed on a spot on the ground. My mouth stays firmly closed. By my sides, my fingers ball up into fists. I have to say something now. Speak, Johnny.

  ‘Johnny?’

  I look up and smile at her. At least, I try to, but the way it feels on my face, I can tell it comes out more like a grimace. I take a breath and prepare myself to say it, to let it all tumble out. Only, when I open my mouth, the words are gone. I don’t know where to start. How can I tell her this?

  ‘Are you all right, Johnny?’

  Say something, Johnny. Tell her. She has to know. Tell her and then go home. Don’t make this even more painful than it already is.

  ‘Johnny?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘Shall we walk?’ I say.

  Summer smiles and nods.

  And I sense that the moment has gone. I’m a coward. I couldn’t do it.