“Maybe I was wrong,” she said later. “False memory or something. It’s easily done.”
By Monday, everyone at school had heard about the accident. The story became exaggerated as it went from person to person, especially after Cat had told a couple of people that her mum thought someone might have leapt out at her. So the story grew into rumours of attempted murder. Near the psychiatric hospital; probably one of the patients. Well, it was more interesting to everyone than “fell off her bike”.
On Tuesday, Danny didn’t come into school again. Apparently, he was ill. Though someone said family problems.
Did he have family problems? Not as far as Cat knew. She’d met his mum, dad and older sister and thought his family seemed really nice – straightforward. More than could be said for him with his insects. Maybe he was ill.
She wouldn’t say she was exactly bothered.
On Wednesday Cat saw him at registration. He didn’t look at her, seemed to move aside when she found herself accidentally walking towards him. She wasn’t complaining.
At lunchtime, she almost bumped into him coming out of the canteen. He seemed so keen to get away from her that it was almost hilarious.
He didn’t go to fencing. Again, no complaints there.
“Where’s Daniel?” asked Mr Boyd.
“He had to go home, Sir,” said one of Danny’s friends.
Well, that was good news. Another fencing lesson without Danny. Cat threw herself into the lesson, lunging and parrying as though it was Danny she was fighting.
Oddly, though, the passion had gone out of it and, although she was pleased with the praise that came from Boyd, she found that she no longer particularly hated Danny.
Perhaps all that was over.
CHAPTER 30
FOLLOWED AGAIN
CAT was walking home from the bus stop after hockey. It was two days later, Hallowe’en and mint cold. Dusk was falling fast from a cloud-heavy sky and it was beginning to rain. Her dad had taken Angus into town for a full rehearsal for the concert and then he was going to see a friend before bringing Angus home afterwards. Then Angus would be going trick-or-treating, no doubt. Her mum was not allowed to drive yet. Cat’s bike had still not been fixed and, anyway, with the extra darkness now that the clocks had gone back, she wasn’t allowed to do an evening cycle ride till spring. Normally she’d have argued about this, but she’d let it go.
So Cat was going home on her own, though her dad would not be happy about it if he knew. He thought she was getting a lift, but it had turned out that there wasn’t anyone who could give her a lift. She’d been going to ask Ailsa’s mum but she was taking Ailsa and her sister to some aunt’s house for tea and Cat didn’t have the nerve to ask her to go completely in the wrong direction, even though she wouldn’t have minded. And by then, the others had gone.
Anyway, her dad was overreacting. She’d been making her own way home from school for nearly two years now. It wasn’t that far from the bus stop. And there’d be people around.
But now he suddenly seemed to want her to be collected or to promise to walk with other people. It was ridiculous. OK, so she knew he’d been upset by her mum’s accident – who wouldn’t be – but that didn’t mean he had to see danger everywhere.
“Just do what you’re told, Catriona, please. Humour me, OK?”
Ridiculous.
She made her way along the tree-lined road from the bus stop. A gust snatched at the branches, tumbling leaves adrift. The wet scrunch of her footsteps was loud in the evening air, though mixed with other noises: the swoosh of a car passing along the hospital road, the wind in her ears and in the branches. Gobbets of rain falling through the trees and hitting the car roofs. A siren from afar, and then another. A distant horn. Another car.
Some little kids came tottering round the corner dressed as ghosts and fairies – wet fairies with stomping feet – shepherded by two parents. One kid was crying and one was being carried, its sheet tangled round its wellies. Cat waited for them to pass. Their silly noise disappeared into the darkness.
She hurried on, her blazer collar hunched round her neck and her scarf wrapped round her head. Footsteps came from the side. A man with a dog. They passed by.
She crossed the road. A sudden noise like a snapping twig behind her made her turn. Nothing. She carried on, her heart beating faster, though she tried to stop it. Silly.
The door of some nearby flats opened and a man came out. He spent some time fumbling with his door, locking it. Looked in her direction, just briefly, in passing. Then walked round the corner until she could not see him.
She turned a corner and continued walking quickly homewards. She was nearly where her mum had had her accident, she realized. There was the lane, stretching into the gloom. A cat streaked across the end of it, low to the ground. The rain was unpleasant against her face and her hair would go curly. She hated that.
She passed parked cars, and a motorbike leaning on its support, a drenched cover over its seats.
Turned up the cobbled terrace. Darker here, no lights, few windows looking down. She could hear someone walking behind her. She looked round, but it must be someone still round the corner because she could see no one. And maybe she’d imagined it because now she could hear nothing other than the noises of normality. She began to jog, though carrying all her school stuff made it difficult. Now, she was in the next street to her own. Hers was just round one more corner. Nearly home.
A woman was getting into a car, waving goodbye to someone in a doorway before driving off. Leaving the street empty in the gathering gloaming. The door of that house closed tight.
But no, the street was not empty. A man was standing there, on the other side from her, beneath a broken streetlight. Just standing. A man in a thick padded coat, the hood up against the rain. He had a bicycle with him. He turned and saw her, and quickly wheeled his bicycle away, back out of the street. Which was odd because he’d looked as though he’d been about to go into the street. It wasn’t anyone she recognized. Mind you, she hadn’t seen his face and she couldn’t tell much from what she had seen – just the coat and body shape. And the bike was just any bike, scruffy, old-fashioned, an old man’s bike.
Nothing to do with her.
Whatever, she needed to get home. Fast.
She almost ran towards her own street, less unnerved now that she was so close to home. Turned the corner. With relief she saw her front door, the lights on upstairs. But she knew, with absolute certainty, that there were footsteps behind her. It could, of course, be coincidence, just someone also hurrying through the rain and cold. But what if it wasn’t?
Mrs Morris came out of her front door and began to walk slowly towards the other end of the street, stopping to put something in her bin, and Cat realized that nothing bad could happen while Mrs Morris was within view. Cat could wait just inside her own front door and see if anyone came past. See who had been following her. If anyone. It was probably no one, or just someone quite innocently walking in the same direction. With danger passed, it suddenly felt unreal.
She tugged her bag off her shoulders, to find her key. Where was it? Mrs Morris had reached the end of the street and disappeared from view. She couldn’t ring the doorbell as she didn’t want to disturb her mum. And her dad and Angus wouldn’t be back yet.
Where was her key? What if someone was following her? Where had the footsteps gone? She darted a glance back the way she’d come, towards the corner. Could she hear something? Was someone waiting there?
A sudden increase in the wind and rain battered her ears, drowning her ability to hear any other sounds.
Where was her key? There! She grasped it, fumbling with the lock, opened the door, shouted, “I’m home!” and the relief she felt was enormous. She could have laughed, except that the cold feeling still shrivelled the skin on the back of her neck. She shivered as she looked back where she’d come from.
Silence. No – something. The scrunching of grit underfoot. And then, from round t
he corner of the wall, hurrying into the shadowy street, a figure came towards her.
Danny.
CHAPTER 31
CONFESSION BY CANDLELIGHT
“DANNY!”
“Cat.”
Cat stepped through the front door. Her mum called from upstairs. “That you, Catty? Are you OK?”
“Course I’m OK. I’ll be up in a minute.”
Now she turned to Danny, who was still standing on the doorstep.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was following you.” His face stared out from under the dripping hood.
“Any particular reason?”
“I have to talk to you.”
“No, Danny, I don’t think so.”
“I do. I have to talk to you. Please.”
Maybe this sounded interesting. Was he going to tell her about Phiz? The flowers? Apologize for being a creep?
His eyes were serious. There was no jeering, no swagger in the way he looked at her. “Can I come in?”
She said nothing. She really didn’t want him to come in. At all. But … he did look serious. Kind of pleading. And she would be able to ask for the truth. Because that’s what she felt he was going to tell her. Otherwise why else would he be here?
“Please.”
Nodding, she turned and let him go past her into the house. “OK, but this had better be good.” She shut the door, took off her wet coat, hung it up. “Put your coat there.”
She called up the stairs as they went through the hall. “Mum, it’s OK – I’ve got a friend from school with me. Do you want a cup of tea?”
“Lovely! I’m parched.”
Cat led Danny towards the kitchen.
“Is your mum OK?”
“She’s fine. She’s off work for a while. Concussion. And she’s broken her wrist. Do you want some tea?” She started making it.
“If you are. Thanks. Does she know what happened? I heard she thought someone jumped out at her.”
“We don’t know. She hasn’t remembered any details. Do you want biscuits or something?” Without waiting for his reply she took a packet from the cupboard. Then went to the fridge and got the milk out. She felt him watching her, but it didn’t matter. Oddly. He was more uncomfortable than she was. “Milk? Sugar? Biscuit? We’ll take a tray to my mum and then we’ll go to my room. If it’s not too princessy for you.”
“I … I don’t think…”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
After a short silence while she finished making the three mugs of tea, he followed her towards the stairs. Then he spoke again. “Look, I don’t want your mum to know I’m here.”
“Why?”
“Please.”
“But she knows nothing about you. She knows I went out with a Danny for a while but she doesn’t even know your second name, I don’t think.”
“But she might.”
“So what if she does?”
“It’s important. Trust me. Please.”
This was weird. Really weird. But then he always was. Weird insect boy. Why had she ever gone out with him?
“If you say so. Hold this.” They were on the landing now. She gave Danny the tray and took a mug from it, before going into her parents’ bedroom.
“Thanks, Catty. Lovely. You had a good day?” She was curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a rug, a book lying on the floor. Polly lay beside her, thwacking her tail on the carpet.
“Fine, thanks. You OK?”
“Kind of. Just tired. Dad fed Polly before he went out with Angus, in case you’re wondering why she didn’t come and pester you in the kitchen.”
“OK. Anyway, we’ll be upstairs.” She would have liked to stay and chat, tell her more, tell her properly, but…
She went back out onto the landing, where Danny was waiting.
“Come up then.” And she led the way. He’d been in her room before, of course. When he’d made the princess remarks. Well, he could think what he liked. She didn’t care.
When she switched on the light, the bulb went. “Damn!” Well, she wasn’t going downstairs to get a bulb and, to be honest, darkness was preferable to bright light just now. She switched on her bedside lamp and lit some of the many candles in the fire-grate and on the mantelpiece. One she put on the window ledge, the shutters open. She didn’t really need to light so many but the more she lit, the longer she put off whatever Danny was going to say. She did want to know, but she also didn’t. Lighting candles was a lot easier.
She glanced out of the window, barely noticing the lights of other windows through the rain-streaked glass.
Cat sat on the bed, looking down. Danny sat cross-legged on the floor. She brushed her damp hair, straightening the rain-curled bits.
“So what is it you want to say?”
“I … well, I don’t know… It’s…” He hesitated.
“You’re not making much sense, you know.”
“I know.” He was picking at the little bits of skin round his fingernails. She noticed that his hand seemed completely healed. He wasn’t looking at her. There was a smell of wet clothes, unpleasant.
“It’s about my brother.”
“Your brother? I didn’t even know you had one.”
“He’s older than me. Much older. He left home ages ago. He’s … ill. He dropped out. Cannabis and stuff. Actually, he was expelled, if you must know. Mum and Dad tried to help him, but now…” Danny turned away, but not before she’d seen his mouth tremble. This was embarrassing. The darkness and flickering lights made everything even more unreal.
“What, Danny?”
“He has schizophrenia.”
CHAPTER 32
MADNESS
THE word smashed into her mind, shocking in the half-dark. Shocking anywhere. A terrible word.
Danny continued. “But he takes pills that work really well.” He looked at her, his face bright. “He isn’t locked away or anything – he’s not that bad. We have an uncle who lives near here and David is staying with him. My parents aren’t coping well but our uncle is not so close, not as … I don’t know, not as sad. It makes Mum and Dad really cut up to see David. It’s horrible then.”
Cat didn’t know what to say. Something choked inside her. What would it be like to have a brother like that? What would that do to her parents?
“Look, Danny, I’m sorry about your brother but … what has this got to do with me?”
“He’s not dangerous, honestly. He wouldn’t do anything. He’s never hurt anyone. You hear about schizophrenics hurting people, but his pills are really good. And Uncle Walter makes sure he takes them.”
“Danny, just a minute – what’s this got to do with me?”
“Because of Phiz. I think it was him.”
“What?” She stared at him. It took a few seconds for her to work out what he meant. “Your brother was the spider guy on Phiz? God, that’s totally creepy! I had a schizophrenic watching me on the internet? Sorry,” she added when she saw his face.
“And how do you know about the Phiz stuff anyway?” she asked.
“After you said that thing at fencing, I asked around and one of my friends had heard one of your friends talking about it.”
Great. So everyone knew. “But why would your brother do that?”
“Because of us.”
“Us?”
“I was so angry. When you dumped me. Well, you treated me like rubbish, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Sorry. But you weren’t exactly perfect yourself. You grossed me out with your insects, you slagged me off for having more money than you, you… Look, OK, I’m sorry. OK? I am. I know the way I did it wasn’t great.”
“No, it wasn’t. But yeah, I’m sorry too. Anyway, the point is I was mad at you. And I told David all about it. He wasn’t ill then. This was months ago. He was great. I’m sorry, but we used to have ‘Let’s slag Cat off again’ sessions. Come on!” he said when he saw her about to speak. “I bet you do the same with your friends.”
/> She was silent.
“Anyway, then he got ill. It happened quite suddenly, though Mum and Dad said there were signs earlier. And he started obsessing about what a cow you were. He was way over the top in some of the things he said. My uncle helped calm him down. But he was still ill. Then when I heard someone was doing that to you on Phiz, I guessed it was him. I asked him and he denied it, but I didn’t believe him. It’s obvious, isn’t it? He’d been talking about getting back at you. But actually I didn’t think it would do any harm. All he could do was scare you. And that was fine by me – I was still mad at you. So I left it.”
“So he knew all the details about me because you’d told him?”
“Sorry. But if you think about it, the details are on your open profile anyway. Your hobbies and everything. Not exactly a secret, is it? That’s why I don’t do that stuff.”
“Where did all this happen? What computer did he use? Does he have his own?”
“No, he can’t afford one. Or maybe he uses Uncle Walter’s when he’s round there.”
“So this uncle knows all about me too, does he? Really great.”
“Sorry. But he’s OK, really. I wouldn’t talk to Mum and Dad about that stuff, but he’s OK. They don’t get on with Uncle Walter but even they’re glad he’s helping David. I’m not really supposed to go round there as much as I do, but Uncle Walter’s interesting. And now David’s there, there’s even more reason … he’s my brother.”
“Listen, your brother may be ill and I obviously feel sorry for him and all that, but do you realize what he’s done? He wrecked my computer with a virus for a start. I lost a whole load of work and he freaked me out.”
“You’ll think this is mad but this stuff has been going round my head – ever since your mum fell off her bike near the psych hospital and I heard maybe someone had jumped out at her. People started talking about how it might have been a mental patient and I just … freaked. He’d been chucked out of the hospital that day. It could have been him! It’s really stupid because I know David wouldn’t do anything like—”
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