by Gina Blaxill
‘Wait – Dale never came after us. Did you take him out?!’
Nadina gave a modest shrug. ‘What, like it was hard? Nah.’ She grinned. ‘We got lucky. He didn’t realize me and Mat were there. Don’t underestimate the power of surprise, innit.’
I winced, but I was impressed – and grateful. If both brothers had come after us, who knows whether things would have turned out so well.
I rang Dad and Tamsin and they rushed over to the school. After I’d managed to convince them I was fine, Dad said, ‘You know what all this means, don’t you?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘What?’
Dad smiled. ‘It means another court case, of course. That’s assault, what those boys did tonight, and they were carrying weapons. And if there’s some decent CCTV on our side this time, they could get done for robbing that garage.’
I pulled a face. ‘Isn’t what Imogen and Nadina did to Dale technically assault?’
‘Self-defence! Bit of a difference.’ Dad went on: ‘There’s no hope of them being retried for those previous robberies and the murder – and trying to mow the car into you, more’s the pity – but if you don’t get ’em for one thing, you get ’em for another—’
‘Phil,’ Tamsin interrupted, ‘Sam’s been through a terrible ordeal tonight – yet another one! – and I don’t think he needs this right now, do you?’
Dad opened his mouth, then closed it. Gruffly he said, ‘Right. I need to think more before I open my gob. Sorry, Sam. Home, eh?’
I smiled at Tamsin and tucked my hands into my pockets. After a few more words with the police, we went to the car.
As we drove home, I leaned my head against the window and watched the lines of Christmas trees and rows of takeaway shops zip by. I was so tired. It was incredible when I thought about what had happened – too incredible. But Dad was right to be upbeat. These weeks of fear, looking over my shoulder every time I went outdoors – they were over. At least for the meanwhile. There was no way Josh and Dale could get out of what had happened tonight.
I took out my phone and started writing a new message.
Imo, I hope you’re OK. Pls text and let me know what they say in the hospital. OK?
After a moment’s hesitation I added a kiss at the end.
IMOGEN
TUESDAY 24 DECEMBER
I leaned back in the cushions on the sofa, warming my hands on a cup of coffee, half watching the Pixar movie Benno had put on. Across the room Dad was tapping away on his laptop. This was a first. Usually I didn’t know where he was in the house. It was nice really. We were doing our own thing, but we were hanging out. Mum was out doing some last-minute shopping, though the heap of wrapped gifts at the base of our tree looked pretty large to me.
Let’s have a nice Christmas, she’d said to me the night of the party. It looked like that’s what we were going to have. It was weird to be looking forward to it for once. Things weren’t sorted, not entirely. But it felt like they were getting there.
The doorbell rang. It was probably Sam. He’d mentioned coming over.
‘Nadina, I expect,’ Dad said as I put my coffee down and got up.
‘Nah, she’s got a date with someone else today.’ I smiled. ‘Turns out knocking out knife-wielding nutters is a pretty bonding experience.’
Dad nodded. He knew the ins and outs of what had happened. As I went past I surreptitiously took a quick peek at his laptop screen, but he was just writing an email.
I opened the front door with my good arm. The one Dale had cut was a mass of stitches, as was my shoulder. Like Sam had said, they didn’t hurt, though they stung like anything if I knocked them. Still, I’d only have to put up with them for a few more days.
‘Hey . . .’ I started, then blinked. It wasn’t Sam. It was Ollie.
‘Hey. All right?’
‘Mostly,’ I said, rather stunned. ‘You?’
Ollie shrugged. He was wearing his long stripy scarf and his old basketball hoody. ‘Can we talk?’
Realizing he didn’t want to come in, I grabbed my coat. I had my slippers on, but after all I’d gone through, I really didn’t give a toss how weird it looked. We walked to the road in silence. The 123 trundled past, packed with Christmas shoppers. Ollie cleared his throat.
‘Heard what happened. I’m really glad to see you’re OK.’
‘You know me,’ I said, feeling a sense of déjà vu. ‘I’m always OK.’
‘Yeah. One way or another.’ Ollie put his hands in his pockets. ‘I’ve been thinking about everything. Made a decision.’ He turned to look at me, and it struck me how much healthier he looked. ‘I went to the police and made my statement again.’
After a beat I said, ‘As in – the statement you withdrew?’
‘Not exactly. See, that was never a full statement. Not as full as it should’ve been. I held a few things back, like stuff Josh and Dale said to me about other break-ins, people they’d beaten up, that kind of thing. This time round, I didn’t leave out nothing. So guess what? It gets classified as new evidence. You know what that means.’
I did. It meant that the case against the McAllisters – the one we’d given evidence at – could be reopened. It was good news. I wasn’t looking forward to doing the court thing again, but I knew it was necessary.
‘Don’t back out this time, OK?’ I said.
‘Not going to. Want to know what made me change my mind?’
‘Christmas miracle?’
To my surprise Ollie laughed. ‘No, it was last week. I thought, if someone like Sam can fight Josh McAllister, actually disarm him, what kind of person does that make me? And I don’t wanna be a person who shuts up and says nothing. I’m a crime statistic now. I let my mum down. I let you down. But the statement – that’s not cut and dried. I could change it. Make a difference. So I have.’
‘Proud of you,’ I said, half flippantly.
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ I said, giving him a push and thinking how like old times this felt. ‘Seriously, I’m glad. Not just cos of what this means, but cos of what this says about you. Always felt you were better than this, Ollie. Now I know you are.’
‘Not good enough to get out of cleaning crap off walls,’ Ollie said with a sigh. ‘Got months more of that.’
I nodded. We watched the traffic, and Ollie said something about the basketball team at his new school. It felt perfectly comfortable and not at all strange.
After a while Ollie got up. ‘Happy Christmas then,’ he said. ‘Got any new year’s resolutions?’
I leaned back, considering. ‘To have a great life,’ I said after a while. ‘And that’s not me being sarcastic.’
‘Sounds good. I might nick it. See you round, Im.’
‘See you,’ I said, meaning it. As Ollie walked off, I thought about what having a great life really meant. For me, probably to stop lying to myself and to pay more attention to what others were thinking. I could be really oblivious to that and I didn’t like myself for it. And I could be terribly judgemental and harsh, hurting people I cared about. Those weren’t nice things, but now I knew I did them, I could work on them.
As for the past? I had scars. Much like I’d have physical scars from Dale’s attack. But when you treated them right, scars healed.
If all the stuff with Dad hadn’t happened, we’d never have come to Walthamstow. I wouldn’t have become head prefect, been introduced to volleyball or met the people who were now my best friends. And while Walthamstow was, as Nads liked to say, no Chelsea, it was home. And it was where I belonged.
Then I caught sight of Sam.
SAM
TUESDAY 24 DECEMBER
As I stepped off the bus on to the road that led to Imogen’s, I saw Ollie walking towards me. I was half tempted to duck into the bus shelter. But that would be silly, and he’d already seen me. When he was a few metres away, he said, ‘Hey. All right?’
‘Yeah,’ I said, surprised that he was being friendly. ‘You?’
‘So-so.’ Ol
lie smiled. ‘Heard about last week. Nice going.’
It took me a moment to realize he was referring to my fight with Josh – and that he was genuinely complimenting me.
‘Right,’ I stuttered. Luckily Ollie didn’t seem to need anything else. He slapped my shoulder in an almost matey way and carried on the way he was going. I stared after him. What did that all mean? Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Or maybe it meant that I had to give it to him, after all, for being big enough to get past disliking me. He seemed to be dealing with the community sentence better than I thought I would. He’d said the last time I saw him that his future was just basketball and football. I wasn’t so sure. Ollie would probably be a lot more successful than he thought, because really, despite everything – he was a hardworking guy. A good guy.
As I was psyching myself up for seeing Imogen, I realized to my amusement that she was right in front of me, sitting on her front garden wall in a bizarre combo of outdoor coat, trackies and fluffy slippers.
‘What are you doing?’ I laughed, suddenly feeling more relaxed.
Imogen shrugged. ‘Oh, I do this all the time. You just haven’t caught me before.’
‘You don’t look very warm.’
‘I’m not.’ Imogen got to her feet. ‘Looking forward to tomorrow?’
I was actually. It would be my first Christmas with Dad and Tamsin. Last year I’d been with Mia and her parents, and while I’d had a good time, I knew that I didn’t really belong there.
Now I finally had a place to call home. It made me happier than I could remember.
‘Next year will be my little brother or sister’s first Christmas,’ I said. ‘It’s exciting. I quite like the idea of being a big brother.’
We were nearly at her house, and I noticed Imogen rubbing her hands together. Deciding now was good, I drew out a wrapped gift from my bag. ‘Hey. Merry Christmas.’
Imogen’s eyes widened. She took the present, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes with her other hand. ‘Wow. You didn’t have to do this. Can I open it?’
‘Go on then.’ I grinned.
Imogen ripped it open and took out the pair of gloves inside. ‘I noticed you’d lost yours. I don’t like the idea of you getting frostbite and your fingers dropping off,’ I joked.
‘Nice one,’ Imogen smiled. ‘The colour’s great. Thanks! That was really thoughtful.’
We reached Imogen’s front door. As she reached into her pocket for keys, we noticed something hanging above our heads. Something which, judging by the way Imogen’s jaw dropped, hadn’t been there when she left.
‘What idiot hung that up?’ Imogen broke the silence. We stared at the mistletoe, its fat berries gleaming. I peered over my shoulder, checking that no one was watching from the window.
‘Well,’ I started, ‘you know what they say . . . it’s really bad luck to ignore mistletoe.’
‘Sam, be serious. We are not having a snog. Not, like, ever, and definitely not, like, here, and most certainly not, like, because of some stupid Christmas tradition. Because that is lame.’
Imogen talked lots when she was wrong-footed, I’d noticed. For once she didn’t look so certain. In fact, she was the one that was blushing while I wasn’t. I felt weirdly at ease as I said, ‘I must be pretty lame then.’
I leaned forward. When our lips met, warmth flowed through me, and there was a pounding feeling in my chest that was brilliant and scary at the same time. I leaned in to kiss her a second time, then felt Imogen’s hand on my chest.
‘Samuel –’ to my delight she was smiling – ‘one kiss per berry, remember?’ She reached up and plucked off a berry and waved it at me. ‘Memento?’
Then the door opened and Imogen’s mum appeared.
‘Oh, so you found the mistletoe I put up then,’ she said smoothly.
I coughed and looked at my feet.
Imogen made a huffing noise. ‘Since when were you such a perv, Mum?’
‘You were the one who complained there wasn’t enough love in the house. I was just trying to create some.’ She went back inside, laughing, leaving the door open.
Imogen stepped in, muttering angrily, ‘I bet she was watching. Ugh!’
‘Hey, Imo.’ I caught her arm. ‘I do like you, just so you know. More than just friends.’
Imogen looked down at my hand on her arm.
‘You might be moving to America,’ she said, her expression unreadable.
‘I don’t think that’ll happen,’ I said. ‘Not now the McAllisters are going down. Tamsin has never been keen on it; she wants her parents around when the baby’s born. Dad adores her, so I think she’ll get final say on the matter.’
Imogen sighed. ‘Look, Sam, so much is going on in my head right now; I need some time to get through it. You’re a great guy and as far as mistletoe kisses go, well, that was a really cheesy thing to do. But I did like it. OK?’ She grinned at me shyly.
I beamed. I couldn’t help it. ‘That’s OK. That’s very OK.’
Imogen took off the gloves and carefully placed them in her coat pockets. ‘Maybe next year you can buy me slippers. These ones are rank!’ Then she leaned forward and gave me a very quick kiss on the lips. ‘Merry Christmas, Sam,’ she said, closing the door.
Next year.
Next year would bring a new court case and new problems. But next year would also bring my new brother or sister and the chance for me to get to know better the new people who’d become so important to me. After years of feeling so anxious and frustrated I could barely breathe, I’d finally started to live again.
Now was good. So good I couldn’t wipe the silly grin off my face. But next year?
Next year was going to be incredible.
SOPHIE
My cousin Danielle was twenty-six when she died. According to the police she jumped from the balcony of her flat, which, in the words of my foster-mother, wasn’t a very nice way to go. What a stupid thing to say. Is death ever ‘nice’?
My best friend Reece and I were the last people to see Dani alive. We’d been staying the weekend in her Bournemouth flat. I say her flat, but it actually belonged to Danielle’s friend Fay, who was backpacking around South America and had said Dani was welcome to use it.
‘Come over! It’ll be brilliant.’ Danielle had sounded so enthusiastic when she rang to invite me. ‘Stay for a week, two weeks – I’m right next to the beach. Loads to do. You’ll love it.’
‘I’ve got school,’ I said. ‘They probably wouldn’t approve of me taking a week out to splash about in the sea.’
‘Oh, yeah, school. Bummer. Well, whatever. Let’s make it a weekend.’
Timewise it wasn’t ideal – it was just after Easter, and GCSE exams were breathing down my neck – but I went anyway. My foster-mum, Julie, was fine with me going – she said I deserved a break. I hadn’t heard from Danielle in ages, even though until recently she’d been working in north London, where I was living.
So after school on Friday afternoon Reece and I got the train from Waterloo and Danielle met us on the platform at the other end, all smiles and carrying an enormous bag of rum-and-raisin fudge. She started chattering about the flat and the beach and her new job, which was a temporary one at an IT consultancy. We had fish and chips in town and then went for a walk along the seafront and tried out the fairground rides on the pier. Danielle knew the people running the air-rifle stand and they let us have a couple of free shots, which they probably regretted when Reece started arguing about the game’s rules. Reece had always liked the sound of his own voice – Danielle and I found the whole thing terribly funny and couldn’t stop laughing. It’s not that remarkable, but I’ll always hold on to that moment: a summer night when the light was starting to fade, a warm breeze ruffling my hair, sharing a joke with my cousin.
On Sunday afternoon Reece and I were getting ready to leave when the flat’s doorbell buzzed. Danielle went to answer. I was in the other room at the time, so I don’t know if she said anything to the caller over the
intercom, but the next thing I knew, I could hear footsteps running downstairs.
‘Does she always rush about like that?’ Reece asked.
I shrugged. ‘Pretty much.’
Reece went to the window, pressing his palms to it. ‘She’s talking to some bloke.’
‘He’s probably just selling something,’ I said. ‘Give me a hand with my case, will you? The zip’s stuck.’
Half an hour later Danielle still hadn’t come back. She wasn’t outside the flat or picking up her mobile, so we had no choice but to head to the station. We’d booked two cheap seats on the 4.37 and I couldn’t see Julie being happy about forking out for a later train.
‘Bit off, Danielle not coming to say goodbye,’ Reece said as we left. ‘She’s a bit of a skitz, your cousin.’
I felt a little disappointed that Danielle hadn’t returned, but it wasn’t as though it was the first time she’d let me down. She’d probably ring that evening, full of apologies.
Later Reece and I worked out that Danielle must have jumped from the balcony roughly around the time we were changing trains at Southampton. When I got back Julie told me what had happened.
I didn’t believe it at first. The idea that Danielle could be gone seemed impossible. But when I began to take it all in – well, it was pretty tough. The next few days were terrible ones I’d give anything to forget. Over the years I’d become very good at blanking out feelings, but I couldn’t ignore this. Dani had been the only person in the world who was mine, someone who knew exactly what I’d been through. She never judged me. She understood. That was something I could never replace.
The coroner was satisfied it was suicide. Danielle had never been that stable, I knew. She’d threatened to hurt herself before, and depression and mood swings ran in the family. Maybe it had been one of those freak decisions you’d never make if you could go back in time. In the words of the police officer who’d come to tell me the verdict, it was ‘terribly sad, but it all made sense’.