by Carrie Elks
Diane and Peter. It even took me a few days to remember their names. These are people I’m sharing a bathroom with.
“Well, any time you need to escape, you know where I am.” He doesn’t say any more, just walks over and grabs his jacket from a hook at the back of the room. “Do you want a lift home?”
I try not to laugh. My flat’s in completely the opposite direction of his place and he knows it. I’m about to refuse when an idea pops into my head. “Actually, do you have enough time to take a detour? I just want to check on something.”
* * *
His car still stinks like a tepid pond. It doesn’t appear to have been cleaned since I was last in it, and I find myself kicking an empty water bottle, wondering if it’s been in the foot well all this time. He climbs in on the driver’s side and stretches his long legs out to press the clutch down, and I try not to watch as his thigh muscles push against his jeans.
“So, where are we going?”
“Do you know the Whitegate Estate?”
He turns and catches my eye. “Only by reputation.” His voice is low. “Why do you want to go there?”
I take a deep breath and let my head fall back on the headrest. “Allegra MacArthur lives there with her mum.”
“Okay…”
“I want to check she’s all right.” I look at him again, and he’s waiting patiently for me to expand. For a moment, I sit and try to work out the right words. “Her mum has this on-again off-again boyfriend and I think he might have hurt her in the past. I want to go over and see if he’s back hanging around there.”
“He left?”
Another deep breath. “After he landed Daisy in hospital with multiple injuries. Now I hear he might be back.”
“Why not call somebody? The police or social services?”
It’s a good question, though not one I’m particularly delighted about answering. “Because I did a stupid thing,” I admit. “I asked Cameron Gibbs to keep an eye on her and let me know if Darren came back.”
“Darren’s the boyfriend?” Niall clarifies. He gives up trying to start the car and turns to face me. “The one who beats them?”
“Yes. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t call up social services just to tell them he’s been hanging around the estate. It’s only hearsay; they’d laugh at me. If I could just see for myself, then at least I’d have something to tell them.”
“And if he isn’t there?”
“Then I can go home knowing Allegra’s safe.”
He reaches out and runs his finger along my cheekbone. The intimacy of the gesture is almost painful.
“Okay, let’s go. But if you get out of the car I’m coming with you.”
It takes a while to get there. The evening rush hour halts our progress every few blocks, and we idle in long queues while motorbikes and couriers flash by, weaving in and out of the vehicles. Neither of us says very much, because I’m too busy worrying about Allegra, and Niall’s too busy concentrating on the road.
Eventually, he leans forward and switches on the radio, and the drive-time D.J. introduces the all-request hour. The Fray comes on, and our eyes meet. This song was in the charts the year Digby died. As the bittersweet melody fills the interior of the car, I wonder if Niall listened to it as much as I did.
“I hate this song.” Niall flicks off the radio. How to Save a Life fades away.
“It was everywhere that summer… I couldn’t escape it. And every time I listened to it, I felt as if I was being judged.”
“You’re not the one who deserved judgement. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
The silence is so heavy it actually hurts. I can feel his pain dissolve into my own. “We were just kids, Niall. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I gave him that tab. Whose fault was it?”
We come to another stop behind some temporary traffic lights. Somebody beeps their horn.
“You gave me one, too, and I’m still alive,” I say firmly. “It was one of those things. The blame doesn’t lie on you.”
“It doesn’t lie on you either. When are you going to realise that?”
When I close my eyes I can picture Digby palming the tablet as Niall passes it to him. All three of us swallowing tiny white pills. Looking for ecstasy and finding only death.
“I should have listened to him. When he said he felt ill.”
Niall’s fingers tap against the steering wheel in a silent rhythm. “The poor guy never stood a chance. He was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect in the post-mortem. Did you know that?”
I shake my head, feeling the nausea rise in my stomach the way it always does when I think about him and about those days.
“I read it in the papers. It came out in the inquest.”
That would make sense. I stopped reading anything after the first two days. Seeing myself vilified in print was more than I could bear. “He still wouldn’t have died if it wasn’t for the E.”
“True. But none of us knew what would happen, including him.” He tips his head to the side, and looks at me with a curious expression on his face. “Do you still think about it a lot?”
“Yes,” I reply. “For a long time I couldn’t think of anything else. It’s taken me forever to forgive myself for not following him that night.”
Niall’s voice is thin. “He would have died anyway. You know that, don’t you? It wasn’t our fault.”
“But he wouldn’t have died alone.” That’s the worst thing. Knowing he was suffering without anybody looking after him.
“True.” The cars ahead of us start to move, and Niall follows them, inching his Fiesta along the tarmac. “But it is what it is. Do you know what I mean? Eventually you just have to accept that it happened and try to move on. That’s what I’ve been attempting to do.”
“I know.” He’s right. I know he is.
“Is that why you work at the clinic? To atone for his death?”
I give him a small smile. “At first, I think. Now I work there because I love the kids. They’re the victims in this, and the potential addicts of the future. If I can make a difference, it’s all worth it.”
“You do make a difference. I can promise you that.”
When we pull onto the Whitegate Estate my heart speeds up. The streets are empty save for piles of trash littering the pavements and a burnt-out, abandoned car haphazardly parked on the side of the road. I direct Niall toward the park, thankful his car is dilapidated enough not to stand out.
We stop short of the playground, where a cluster of kids are hanging off a spinning roundabout, hair fanning out in the breeze. The swings have been commandeered by teenagers who use them as benches. A few of them smoke from half-used cigarettes as they try to look achingly cool.
Eventually, I spot Allegra crouched under the slide, playing some sort of game with another girl—a white-haired, pretty little thing who looks about the same age.
“You okay?” Niall asks. I don’t know whether it’s from genuine concern for my well-being, or just something to cut through the silence. Either way I answer him.
“Yeah, I’m just looking for Darren. Cameron said he was hanging around here the other day.”
“Only kids here now.”
“Yep.” I wonder if Darren takes a break when the children arrive. I can’t believe he does; after all, the teenagers are probably his best customers. I still can’t get rid of that nasty taste in my mouth. If I were a psychic I’d say I could feel him. There’s just something a little off about this whole situation.
“You want to get out? Take a look around?”
I crane my head to look at the tower blocks surrounding the green space. Standing like sentinels, they’re identical in design, all constructed from the same dull concrete. Something about them makes me shiver.
“Can we drive to that building?” I point to the block where Daisy lives, trying not to think about the last time I came here. It feels like a lifetime ago. “I want to pop in and see Daisy.”
Even I’m sur
prised at my words. They come out before I really get a chance to think them through, but as soon as they do I’m sure it’s the right thing. Go up and see her, maybe say something about Allegra forgetting something. Reassure myself that Darren isn’t back.
“Are you sure? Will she mind if you drop in on her unannounced?” Niall starts the car up anyway.
“I won’t be long. Just in and out.”
As we climb the stairs I get a sense of déjà vu. My heart races with a mixture of exertion and anxiety, and I find myself clinging on to Niall’s hand for reassurance. When he stops to look at a piece of intricately designed graffiti on the stairwell I get to catch my breath for a moment, admiring his face.
“Do you like graffiti?” I ask.
“They’re the wall paintings of our time. Social realism in art form. I think they’re fascinating.”
I can see what he means. “Have you ever done any?”
He laughs. “Hasn’t everybody?”
I shake my head and laugh lightly. “Not me. I’m a good girl, remember?”
His voice is soft. Low. “I remember.”
We step out onto the familiar walkway that leads to Daisy’s flat. Nothing has changed in the months since I was here. There’s still broken glass on the floor. Flat 403 still has boarded windows. There’s a twitch in the yellowed net curtains as I pass 408, and I assume a nosy neighbour is keeping an eye out.
“Do you mind waiting here?” I ask Niall before we turn the corner to Daisy’s row of flats. “I don’t want to turn up unannounced with a stranger. I won’t be long, I promise.”
He grabs my hand before I can leave. “If there’s anything wrong in there you scream, okay? I’ll be in there like a shot.” He drops his forehead until it’s resting on mine. “Take care of yourself. That’s an order.”
I nod and it moves both our heads. “You’re lovely.”
“I know.” He grins and it makes me want to hug him. Linking my arms around his neck, I pull him in tight. A second later he tugs me closer, his hands resting on my lower back, palms warm through my t-shirt. That’s where I want to stay. Safe in his arms, warm and cosy and perfectly content.
But I can’t, not until I’ve seen for myself that Darren Tebbit hasn’t made a sudden reappearance.
As soon as I pull away, Niall wanders back to lean against a wall, and I walk over to knock at Daisy’s door. Trying not to think about the last time I did this.
It takes her less than a minute to answer. She yanks the door open, lifting a cigarette to her dry lips. Brow furrowing as she realises who it is.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was just wondering how you were doing. I haven’t had a chance to catch up with you.”
Daisy stands aside and I walk in, relief enveloping me when I realise she’s in here alone.
“I do have a phone you know,” she grumbles. “I’m in the middle of making tea.”
“I won’t stay long then. Is everything okay? Allegra settling in all right?”
“She’s fine.” Daisy’s eyes narrow. “Haven’t you just seen her? She’s been at class, right?”
Shit. Fuck.
“Um, yeah, we didn’t get a chance to talk.”
The microwave pings and we both ignore it.
“Why are you really here?”
There are times when I wish Daisy was stupid, that I wasn’t so dumb. She knows I live nowhere near this estate. There’s no reason for me being here. It must be obvious I’m checking up on her. “I heard Darren was back.”
She stubs her cigarette out in a pale green ashtray then swings to face me. “So you thought you’d run in here and be Miss Nosy Bitch, did you? Come checking up on the poor people? Want to sneer down your nose at us?”
“I wanted to make sure he hasn’t been bothering you. Not after everything you’ve been through.” I’m lying and she knows it. I can tell by the way she frowns. She folds her arms tightly across her chest.
“Well, he’s not here, is he?”
“I can see that.” I try to say it lightly, but I come across as a fool. “Everything’s okay, then?”
I’m eyeing the door, already wishing myself out of here. Why on earth did I ever come up? It seemed so simple: pop in, say hello, then walk right out, knowing Darren wasn’t anywhere near either Daisy or Allegra. Now all I’ve done is put Daisy’s back up again, and I know it’s going to backfire somehow.
“I’m about to call Allegra in for tea, so you need to go.” Daisy grabs her phone.
That’s when I see it. Hanging casually on the back of a chair. A black leather jacket—too big to be Daisy’s. Too roomy to belong to anybody but a man. I step toward it, reaching out to touch, then I’m yanked back, my spine jarring at the sudden change in direction.
“Get out of here.” Daisy’s voice is low. A warning. She releases my shoulder and I step back.
“Is that Darren’s?”
“None of your fucking business. Now get out of here.” Her face is twisted and angry. She steps toward me and I can feel the menace.
“It is my business. Is he back? He shouldn’t be around Allegra. Not after what he did last time.” My breath comes faster, the adrenaline kicking in. “I can’t believe you let him come back.”
“He’s not back, now fuck off and don’t come back.” She pushes me and I stumble, grabbing onto the doorjamb for support. “I don’t want you near Allegra, you interfering little bitch. Keep away from us both.”
She’s so angry, the room vibrates with her fury. I make a grab for the door handle and yank at it. The door swings open, crashing against the wall.
“That’s right, piss off. And don’t come back,” Daisy shouts after me. “If I hear you’ve been anywhere near her I’ll deck you.”
A loud bang tells me she’s shut the door, but my heart is still racing when I reach Niall. Breathing fast, I run straight into his arms, needing his comfort more than ever. My mind is buzzing with thoughts of Darren and Allegra, and what I should do to try and sort this whole mess out.
When we walk toward the stairwell he slides his hand on top of mine and holds me tightly, not once letting go.
It’s only when we’re halfway down the stairs that I feel as though I can breathe again.
25
Neither of us speak as Niall navigates the potholed roads of the estate. The car bounces every time he hits a dip too wide to avoid. It doesn’t feel like an oppressive silence, though. I’m too busy thinking, and I suppose he is, too. We barely notice our surroundings as we make our way north east. The blur of chicken takeaways and kebab shops are only a blip on my radar.
When we’re a few roads away from my flat I finally find my voice. “How do you know where I live?”
Niall makes a neat little manoeuvre, sliding the Fiesta into the tightest of spaces. Either he’s an excellent parker or he doesn’t give a damn if he dings his car. “Alex told me.”
Alex has a lot to answer for. Most of it good.
Niall climbs out of the car, squeezing himself between the bumper and the car in front. When we reach my building I find myself hesitating.
I’ve not invited anybody up before, unless you count Alex and Lara when they helped move my stuff. It’s strange, I realise, because I’ve never had my own place until now, never had the freedom to invite somebody in without checking. For the first time, I’m in charge. The thought doesn’t scare me as I thought it would.
I show Niall the kitchen when we pass it. We climb the stairs to my room, squeezing in between the easy chair and the bed, until he’s standing in the middle of the carpet. I watch his face as he scans his surroundings, noting the furrow between his eyes, the way the corner of his lip pulls down.
“So this is it. Chez moi. Small and bijou but all mine.” I sound like my mum, lapsing into franglais. It’s only when he stares at my poorly made bed that I realise where we are.
Niall Joseph is in my bedroom.
The last time we were in a bedroom together I was nineteen years old, h
eady with infatuation, dizzy that he’d noticed me. Now... I don’t know. I feel like a seasoned gambler at a high-stakes table. Calm on the surface, but underneath there’s so much going on. I’m not sure where to start.
“Cup of tea?”
He shakes his head and sits down on the easy chair. A second later he fidgets and puts his hand under the cushion, pulling out a hairbrush. I try not to laugh when he raises his eyebrows.
“I still haven’t unpacked properly. Anyway, you can hardly talk; have you seen the inside of your car?”
He has the good grace to laugh. “I wasn’t commenting on your storage options, it just surprised me when I felt the spikes on my arse.”
Of course my eyes automatically go there. They can’t help it. When I look up I notice he’s smirking, and there’s something about it that makes me overheat. “I apologise for your discomfort.” I don’t mean it, not a word. I hope he feels as uncomfortable as I do.
“I’ve had worse.”
My phone vibrates then and I lift it up, seeing my mum’s name flash up on the screen. Pressing a button to send it to voicemail, I find myself grimacing. Much to Niall’s amusement.
“My mum,” I tell him, as if that explains everything. “I’ve only just told her about the split.”
He licks his lips slowly and inclines his head. “You two don’t get on?”
“I let her down.” There’s no need to say why. His eyes soften with understanding.
“Alex told me what you went through at home. I’m sorry.”
I look up. “Did you have it any easier?”
“You’ve met my mam, right?” He smiles in a disturbingly sexy way. All crinkles and lifted cheeks. “When she found out about the drugs I thought she was going to kill me. But later on, she was pretty cool, listening to me talking about Digby, and about you.”
“You talked about me?”
“All the time. She probably got sick of it.”
“I thought you’d forget about me.”
“How could I forget you? I spent most of the time either painting you or thinking about you.”
“But you never called.”
“Nor did you.” He says it simply, guilelessly, but I still feel it sharply. There’s no answer, because he’s right. I was too caught up in my own misery to think about dealing with anything else. Why would it be any different for him?