Knife Edge

by Malorie Blackman

  'Where is all of this leading?' I asked.

  Sephy didn't speak for a moment, pausing as one of the guards walked past. As he reached the end of the line, she leaned forward again and said, 'If I give you an alibi, are you going to back me up or would you rather hang calling me a liar?'

  I didn't answer.

  'I need to know,' Sephy told me.

  'Why're you doing this?'

  'Meggie.'

  'What about her?' I said sharply.

  'If you die, you'll take her with you.' Sephy shook her head. 'I can't let that happen.'

  'Why not? She means nothing to you,' I dismissed. 'And I mean nothing to her.'

  'You're never willing to admit that you might be wrong about anyone or anything, are you?' Sephy said. 'You closed your mind and threw away the key a long time ago and you couldn't open it now even if you wanted to. How sad for you.'

  'I don't want your pity. Sod your pity. Did you come here to lecture me? 'Cause if you did . . .'

  'Calm down,' Sephy said quietly.

  I scowled at her, but my rage was directed at myself. How had I let her get to me? I wouldn't let her do that, not again.

  'Tell me,' I began. 'D'you still dream about my brother?'

  Sephy didn't answer, but her body became still and her eyes grew watchful.

  'He was your bit of erotica-exotica, wasn't he?' I smiled. 'Taken up with any more of us blankers since Callum's death? Once you've had white, you've seen the light.'

  'The saying is, "Once you've had black, there's no turning back,"' Sephy told me. 'If we're trading ignorant sayings.'

  'You didn't answer my question. D'you still dream about Callum?'

  'We're not here to talk about your brother,' Sephy said evenly. Her eyes flicked from side to side, checking that the guard was still too far away to hear her. 'I think what we should do is this. You can't deny that you were at Cara's house because your fingerprints were everywhere, so we say that you were there, but then I arrived and you left with me. That way I can testify that Cara was alive when we left her. The cheques are easy – they can't prove that she didn't give them to you.'

  'And you'd get on the witness stand and perjure yourself for me? You'd risk going to prison if you get caught for me?' I didn't believe it for a second.

  'It won't go to trial,' Sephy told me. 'We have to stir up enough reasonable doubt before the trial to make sure that it never happens.'

  'They'll never believe we left Cara's house together,' I told her. 'Everyone knows we hate each other. I shot your sister for God's sake.'

  'No one knows about the shooting except you, me and Minerva. And she won't say anything, or everyone will wonder why on earth she didn't speak out before. And as for hating each other, we can tell everyone that that's why we agreed to meet up that night.' Sephy leaned forward and started to talk faster. 'We'll tell them we wanted to put aside our differences and work together to clear your brother's name. We could say that we'd both agreed I should meet you at Cara's. You introduced us but you and I both left almost immediately after that.'

  'The police aren't going to be keen to let me off the hook if they can't put someone else on it,' I told her.

  'Yes, but—'

  And then I had an idea. I sat back in my chair. Could Sephy be trusted? For my idea to work, I'd have to rely on her to do her part – and that was the one thing in the world I really didn't want to do.

  But I had no choice.

  'So how would this work?' I began carefully. 'Would you go to the police with this so-called alibi of yours?'

  'No. The police can suppress evidence. I'd go to the newspapers. Then when you're taken to your hearing, they'll have TV cameras and reporters all around you asking for your side of the story. You can talk about your alibi then and back up what I've said.' Sephy seemed to have it all figured out.

  But I had a plan or two up my own sleeve.

  'Well? Are you going to let me help you?' she asked.

  'How do I know I can trust you?' I said.

  'You don't,' came her immediate reply. 'But you have no choice. And like I said, I'm not doing this for you. I do hate you, Jude – you got that bit right at least. You make me more sick than undercooked chicken. So get any idea out of your head that I want to help you. I'm doing this for Meggie.'

  'I see.'

  'I hope you do. Because if I do this for you, I want your word that you'll leave me and my daughter alone.'

  'Ah! So it's not so much my mum's welfare you're concerned with, as your own.' I allowed myself a small smile. Sephy didn't hold all the cards. Most of them, but not all.

  'You must believe what you want to believe.'

  'And am I supposed to be in your debt when this is all over – if it works?' I leaned forward. 'D'you know what I think?'

  'I really don't care what's in your nasty little brain,' Sephy interrupted. 'Promise you'll leave Rose alone and hopefully after this I'll never have to see you, hear you or even think about you again.'

  'Is that how you feel about my brother now? I notice you haven't said his name since you got here,' I said.

  'What're you talking about?' Sephy frowned. 'Your brother has nothing to do with this.'

  'He has everything to do with this. If it wasn't for Callum, you wouldn't be here now.'

  'Do we have a deal or not?' Sephy asked impatiently. Visiting time was coming to an end and the guards were beginning to move along the line, reminding everyone that they'd have to leave in a minute.

  'And what d'you get out of it?' I asked.

  'Peace of mind.'

  I couldn't let that happen. I leaned forward and whispered softly, 'Even knowing that I killed the dagger bitch?'

  For the first time, Sephy looked away, unable to hold my gaze. I smiled. I was back in control.

  'The peace of mind isn't for me,' Sephy said softly.

  'It's a deal then.' My smile broadened.

  Live or die, one way or another, I'll still have my revenge on you, Sephy Hadley. Even if I have to return from hell itself to get you. That's a promise.

  fifty-six. Sephy

  The doorbell rang. A short, sharp ring followed by another.

  'I'll get it,' I called upstairs.

  There was no danger of anything else happening. Meggie was in her room and she didn't answer the door any more. Too many photographers flashing too many cameras in her face had put paid to that. I took a deep breath, then opened the door.

  It was Minerva.

  'What're you doing here?' I frowned.

  'Hello to you too!' Minerva raised her eyebrows. 'Can I come in?'

  I stepped to one side. Minerva swanned past and waited for me to shut the front door.

  'Sephy, who is it?' Meggie called from upstairs.

  'Minerva, my sister.'

  'Oh.' Meggie appeared at the top of the stairs, looking old and, oh, so tired. 'Hello, Minerva.'

  'Hello, Meggie.' Minerva smiled up at her. 'How're you?'

  'OK.' Meggie nodded. 'Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee or maybe some orange juice?'

  'Meggie, I'm quite capable of getting my sister a drink. You should go and get some rest.'

  'I'll have a coffee, please – if it's no trouble,' Minerva said directly to Meggie.

  'Sephy, would you like a drink too?'

  'No thanks, Meggie.'

  I frowned at Minerva, an unpleasant thought creeping into my head. Whilst Meggie trudged into the kitchen to make the drinks, I ushered Minerva into the living room, shutting the door behind me.

  'Minerva, I swear if you've come here for an interview with Meggie, I'm going to kick your arse so hard you'll be wearing your bum cheeks as ear muffs,' I told her furiously.

  'Charming!' Minerva sniffed. 'You've obviously been living around noughts for too long.'

  'Sod you, Minerva. What d'you want?'

  The door handle began to turn. I moved forward to open the door. Meggie came in carrying a tray with three mugs on it, plus a bowl of sugar and a small jug filled with m
ilk.

  'Sephy, I thought you might like a cup of jasmine green tea.' Meggie smiled at me.

  'That's very kind of you,' I said, taking the tray from her hands. I held the tray out to Minerva, glaring at her all the while. For anyone else, Meggie would've asked them up front if they took milk and sugar and would've put it in their cup for them accordingly.

  Not for a Hadley.

  'The coffee is in the yellow mug,' said Meggie.

  Minerva poured some milk into her coffee before she took her cup and sat down in the armchair. 'Won't you join us, Meggie?'

  Meggie took the blue mug off the tray and sat down on the sofa. I took the last cup off the tray before sitting down next to Meggie. Minerva looked from Meggie to me and back again.

  'I was in the area so I thought I'd pop in and see how my niece was doing,' smiled Minerva.

  'She's upstairs, asleep,' I told her.

  'Shame,' said Minerva.

  Yeah, right. No appeals to just take a quick peek at her. No requests for more information about her height, weight, general appearance. Nothing. We sat in silence for several awkward moments. I wasn't going to speak first.

  'Meggie, I was so sorry to hear about . . . what's happening with Jude,' said Minerva with beautifully faked sincerity.

  'Thank you,' said Meggie, taking a sip of her coffee, even though it was still too hot to drink.

  'Is he . . . is Jude managing to stay positive?'

  'I think so. I hope so,' said Meggie. 'He has right on his side.'

  'Minerva—' I warned, but she completely ignored me.

  'It must be hard though. Have your neighbours been supportive?' my sister asked.

  'Are you kidding?' Meggie scoffed.

  The neighbours didn't even say hello to either of us any more, including Mrs Straczynski. As I learned when Callum was arrested, so-called friends consider bad luck and notoriety to be contagious.

  'So what're you hoping for, Meggie?' asked Minerva.

  'That justice is done.'

  Enough was already too much. Time to spike Minerva's guns. She was nothing if not doggedly persistent – but then so was I.

  'I hope it gets sorted out the way you want soon,' smiled Minerva.

  'I hope so too,' said Meggie. 'And at least I've got Sephy fighting in my corner. I don't know what I'd do without your sister.'

  'Oh yes?' Minerva said sharply. 'And how're you helping, Sephy?'

  'In any way I can,' I told my sister evenly.

  Minerva cast me a speculative look. 'So you're convinced Jude is innocent?'

  'He told me he didn't do it,' Meggie said. 'And my boy wouldn't lie to me.'

  But Meggie had made a mistake. Minerva's question was directed at me, not her.

  'Have you been to see Jude then?' Minerva asked Meggie eagerly.

  'Yes, we went last week when he was still in a police cell,' Meggie replied.

  'Both of you?' said Minerva sharply.

  'Sephy was there to lend me moral support.' Meggie smiled at me. 'But Sephy went to see Jude in prison on her own a couple of days ago. She's been so wonderful . . .'

  'Sephy—'

  'So, Minerva, how's your job at the Daily Shouter?' I interrupted. 'It must be tough working as a junior reporter, trying to fight your way up to the top of the journalistic dung heap.'

  Meggie's mouth closed like a steel trap – at last. Minerva's lips tightened slightly as she considered me.

  'You don't have a very high opinion of my profession, do you?' said Minerva.

  'Can't say I do. You forget, I've seen you lot in action. I've been on the business end of too many stories full of distorted half-truths and vitriol to dance for joy around journalists,' I said. 'But I wish you luck with it, if that's what you really want to do.'

  'Minerva, I didn't know you were a journalist at the Daily Shouter,' Meggie said quietly.

  'Yes, she got the job a few months ago,' I told Meggie.

  'You didn't tell me that,' said Meggie, giving me a curiously speculative look.

  And it took me a few moments to decipher her expression. She was wondering why I hadn't told her. She was actually wondering.

  Take another step back, Sephy.

  Step back from them all.

  'I'm sure you have to go now,' I said to my sister.

  'Oh I—' Minerva began. And then she saw my face. 'Yes. Yes, I do have another appointment.'

  'I'll tell Rose you were asking for her,' I said standing up.

  Meggie went to rise also.

  'No, Meggie. Don't get up,' I told her. 'I'll see Minerva to the door.'

  Meggie sat back down again. I led the way to the front door, not even bothering to turn and check that Minerva was following me. I just knew she would be. She'd finally got the hint.

  'Thanks for nothing, Sephy,' Minerva hissed at me as I opened the door.

  'I told you that you couldn't interview Meggie. You had no business coming here if that was your only reason,' I said unrepentantly.

  'You could've let me ask a few more questions,' said Minerva. 'And you didn't have to tell Meggie I was a journalist.'

  'You don't need statements from us,' I told my sister. 'Do what all you lot do and make it up.'

  'I thought blood was supposed to be thicker than water,' Minerva said with bitterness.

  'So did I,' I replied. 'But you showed me I was wrong when you tried to blackmail me into getting Meggie to give you an interview.'

  'I said I was sorry for that. You always did bear grudges.'

  And as I looked at Minerva, I realized I was just wasting my breath. She just couldn't see that she'd done anything wrong. I could talk until my voice box exploded and she still wouldn't see it. So what was the point?

  'Bye, Minerva,' I said. 'Don't let the door hit you on your way out.'

  Minerva strode past me without another word. I slammed the door behind her. And that – as they say – was that. I turned round, and there was Meggie standing in the living-room doorway. I wondered how long she'd been standing there.

  Not that it mattered.

  Upstairs, Rose started to cry.

  'I'll see to her if you'd like,' Meggie offered.

  'No, thank you,' I said, already moving past her and up the stairs. I turned when I was halfway up them. Meggie was still watching me.

  'Meggie, do you trust me?' I couldn't help asking.

  She waited just a tad too long to reply. 'Yes, I do.'

  But she didn't. I nodded and turned to carry on up the stairs.

  Maybe Meggie was like me, always waiting to be let down. Always hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. Maybe she was just like me – too bruised and battered to believe in anyone or anything.

  fifty-seven. Jude

  What's she doing? Is she talking to the papers? The TV stations? Why haven't I heard anything? Maybe she's changed her mind? What I have in mind won't work if she denies everything. I'm just going to have to go for it. Ironic really. My life, my future, lies on a knife edge – in the hands of a Cross – Persephone Hadley of all people. All she has to do is call me a liar and that's my neck stretched.

  But I've got two things working for me.

  Her guilt.

  And her fear.

  Cara was worth a hundred of Sephy. But I don't really think of Cara that much any more. I've buried her image deep down. I've forgotten her smile, the way she used to look at me, the way she spoke, her laugh – I've forgotten it all. Except when it's late at night and I finally manage to fall asleep. Then every dream has something of her in it. And I wake up sweating. And I stay awake, shivering.

  But I sweat because it's too hot in my cell.

  And I shiver because it's too cold.

  What do they call that again? When two opposites happen at the same time and place and space. I can't remember. So I force myself to laugh.

  Because in my dreams, I'm always standing over Cara – and crying.

  So I laugh and laugh – until the crying stops.

  fifty-eight. S
ephy

  Sorry, Minerva. I kept saying the words over and over again in my head. Sorry, Minerva. I broke my word. I used you. But what choice did I have? I owed it to Meggie.

  I didn't have any choice.

  But thinking that one phrase over and over wasn't doing any good. Because of me, Jude might go free. Because of me . . .

  Stop it! Don't think about it. Think of something else.

  What else could I do? A sob broke from my lips. I tried to smother it even though I was alone, but I felt so heartsick at what I'd done. The enormity of what I was trying to do was only just beginning to sink in. And if I'd felt alone before, it was nothing to the way I felt now. I'd already contacted three different newspapers – not the Daily Shouter though – but two had refused to see me and although I'd been interviewed by the third, the story hadn't appeared. I'd phoned the local radio station. I'd had an interview over the phone but that hadn't been broadcast.

  For which a major part of me was so grateful. With each passing hour, the reality of what I'd attempted to do pressed down on me harder and faster. Now I just wanted to forget the whole thing, turn the clock back. What on earth had I thought I was doing? All I could do was pray fervently that Jude would keep his mouth shut, that he wouldn't talk to the press about his so-called alibi. If he did say we were together on the night Cara Imega died, then what would I do? Back him up, knowing I was helping a stone-cold killer get away with murder? Or deny his story and crucify Meggie in the process? I couldn't do that to her, I just couldn't. Not when I'd been responsible for the death of one of her sons already. The rock and the hard place I stood between were crushing me to death.

  I sat in the living room with my notebook and pen on my lap, whilst the TV played in the background. Rose was up in our room, fast asleep. How I envied her. Just to sleep without all the dreams I'd been having recently would've been bliss. I was so tired, I knew I wasn't thinking straight. How could I be thinking straight to provide Jude with a 'Get out of jail free' card. Jude had me right where he wanted me. And telling me he'd committed Cara Imega's murder had been a masterstroke.