by Kit Eyre
‘Just listen,’ she said.
I stopped struggling and strained to see her eyes.
‘We’re not bringing him back to life, all right? You’re not doing it; we’re not doing it.’
‘But I killed him,’ I whispered.
Jude’s hands swept up to my cheeks. ‘You didn’t touch him, sweetheart.’
‘I wanted to though.’
‘He fell, that’s what happened. I saw it.’
I rocked back on my heels. ‘So we should call the police and –’
‘No way in hell,’ she interrupted, catching me before I stumbled.
The memory of the last time I’d heard those words from her hit me just as she pulled me close again. I nestled into her shoulder, inhaling her familiar scent, remembering how adamant she’d been about not going and what it had led to. From the way her body arched into mine, I suspected she was back there too.
‘If we call the police, this spins out of control again,’ she murmured into my ear. ‘You’ll be arrested, even though it wasn’t your fault. No one’ll believe what happened, especially not if we tell them why we were here –’
‘You could go,’ I interjected.
Her breath swished against my throat. ‘We’re not doing that again. The problem is, it’ll open it all back up again. We tell them Radison was responsible, we might even find proof. But he’s dead and there’s nothing to clear your name. It looks like you killed him to cover up the truth, do you understand?’
Eventually, I nodded and she drew back. In the dim light, her green eyes glimmered.
‘I should’ve helped you last time. I’m not making the same mistake twice. Trust me and we’ll sort this, okay?’
‘Okay,’ I echoed. ‘What do we do?’
She swallowed, tangling our fingers together. ‘We need to get out of here.’
Chapter 38
April 2010
It was the next day when Harriet came in.
Dad was with me, reading highlights from The Guardian, when she smashed the door open with a crutch. I’d been staring into space, letting Dad’s voice drift through me, but the noise jerked me out of my daze. It took me a few seconds to recognise her with the neck brace and ankle in plaster, not to mention the scars flecked across her face and forearms. She caught sight of my expression and let out a wry chuckle.
‘Believe me, you’re not one to talk. You look worse.’
Dad smiled and folded up his paper. ‘I’ll leave you to it. You’re looking better by the day, Harriet, love.’
Once he’d gone, she clambered into the chair and manoeuvred so her right leg was resting over the arm. With the neck brace on, she looked like a cartoon advert, maybe selling armchairs to old ladies or something. She dumped the crutch against the wall and shut her eyes for a minute. When she opened them again, I could see the red lines flexing around her pupils.
‘Need a fag after all that walking,’ she said.
It was familiar, warm even. For the first time since Gemma had left last night, I could focus on something other than the thoughts of Jude swirling around my head. I gazed with interest at her leg.
‘Is it broken – the ankle?’
She snickered. ‘You know how they usually put metal into the bone to hold it together? They pulled this bugger out and it nearly took the whole thing with it. Thank Christ I was out cold.’
‘What about your neck?’ I asked.
‘Precaution, more than anything now,’ she answered, patting it. ‘They had it off for a few days, but the doctor reckons I’m a risk for wrenching it again if I’m not careful.’
I let out an involuntary snort. ‘Can’t think what he means.’
‘You watch it, you. You’ve had a month of bloody rest; I’ve had to do sodding physio.’
‘Yeah, being in a coma’s really restful,’ I retorted.
‘You try having some woman lecturing you on how to sit up properly. You’ll soon change your tune. Mind you, bet you’ve got all that to come.’
I shrugged. ‘I suppose. They’ve got tests to do.’
‘What’ve they said so far then?’ she questioned.
‘Come on, you probably know more about it all than me.’ I paused and knotted my fingers together. ‘They did say I could go round in a wheelchair for a bit in a few days, just inside the hospital.’
Harriet swung her leg back onto the floor, wincing as it made contact. ‘Bloody thing. That sounds good, though. Bet you’re going mad in here already.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I am. I need . . .’ I wet my lips before meeting her eye. ‘Jude’s still in here, isn’t she?’
Her cheeks paled. ‘Danni –’
‘No, listen, listen. Gemma’s told me what’s going on and it’s bullshit. You know it is. You saw us, you asked me about it, remember?’
‘I know, but things –’
‘If I could talk to her, it’d be all right. It’s Michael, he’s got inside her head, but she loves me. Maybe she’s scared or something, I don’t know. But I’ve got to see her, Harriet. I’ve got to.’
She grimaced and rubbed her neck. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Knowing Harriet, she pulled all sorts of strings to manage it, but I didn’t care one way or the other. All that mattered was knowing that she’d do her best; it got me through what turned out to be a week of tests and people prodding my leg like it was on a meat counter. By the time she and Gemma rolled up with a nurse and a wheelchair, I’d convinced myself all it’d take was seeing Jude and we’d be all right again. I didn’t tell this to them; I just gritted my teeth and allowed the nurse and Gemma to hoist me into the chair.
Unlike me, Jude was on a small ward with three other beds. We arrived on the stroke of visiting, before anyone else, but one of the patients still clocked us with interest. Gemma wheeled me straight to the end bed, obscured by a curtain, pushed me through and murmured that she’d wait right there. I barely heard her. I was too busy staring at Jude with her head lowered over a book and tinny music echoing from her earphones. It sounded like Frank Sinatra, but I couldn’t be sure.
The only way to get her attention was to wheel myself closer. The movement caught her eye and her head snapped sideways. Instead of any flash of relief or happiness, she yanked her earphones out and glared at me.
‘What are you doing here?’
I blinked and swallowed down the lump in my throat. ‘I needed to see how you were.’
‘I don’t want you here,’ she insisted. She glanced wildly around and clutched the emergency alarm. ‘Get out or I’ll press this. It’ll be worse for you if I do.’
‘Jude, I don’t – I don’t understand. You’re lying,’ I went on quickly before she could push the button, ‘you know that we . . . I’m not some loony, am I? I didn’t imagine it. You and me, we were –’
‘It was nothing,’ she cut in, eyes hard. ‘I didn’t want it.’
‘Of course you did! Look at me – come on!’
She twisted her head away, the alarm still lodged in her hand. ‘Get out.’
I just gaped at her, every muscle in my body quivering. Maybe we’d have stayed like that all day if Gemma hadn’t suddenly slipped inside the curtain and pulled me out of there. The other patients were openly whispering now, but my view was blurred by the tears burning my eyelids. Gemma steered me along the corridor then swore and slowed.
‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered.
I scrubbed my face with the back of my hand and glanced up to Michael towering over me. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been unconscious and coated in his own blood. Now his eyes locked on me as he crossed his arms.
‘Wondered how long it’d take you,’ he said. From the volume, it was like he was playing to an audience I couldn’t see. ‘She’s safe now, you can’t hurt her.’
I twisted my fingers around the spokes of the wheels until the metal gouged into my skin. He was waiting there with a sneer on his face, goading me almost. Gemma made to carry on walking, but I held up a hand and somehow managed
to look him in the face.
‘You might’ve got her to say what you want,’ I said, keeping my voice level through sheer force of will. ‘Yeah, well done. Doesn’t change anything, though, does it? It was still me she was fucking on that table, not you.’
His cheeks flushed. ‘She’s my wife.’
‘And she wanted me,’ I murmured. ‘Gemma – let’s go.’
Chapter 39
July 2011
I let Jude take control.
We left Radison where he’d fallen, blood congealing on the wall behind him and a foul smell seeping through the air. Jude covered her nose and edged inside to turn the fire off while I hovered in the dark hallway listening to the rats scurrying back and forth. The image of them gnawing at his flesh hit me just as the orange glow disappeared from beyond the threshold. I dashed for the panel slotted over the front entrance, Jude on my heels.
The vague sunlight blinded me for a few seconds. I turned towards Jude, waiting for her to come into focus, then let out a shaky breath at the fierce expression on her face. When she tugged me by the hand, I allowed myself to be led back to the car. I fell into the passenger seat, drawing my stick up to my chin and trying to ignore the throbbing in my leg. Jude shot me a brief glance as she settled into the driver’s seat then ground the engine into life and drove steadily through the derelict estate.
It was when we suddenly rejoined a busy road that my stomach began rolling again. I screwed my eyes closed against the swirl of traffic, hearing the cars hurtling in the opposite direction and the engines growling. All at once, none of it was there anymore. I opened my eyes to find Jude had brought us down a side road and we lurched to a halt underneath a hulking tree with a trunk the size of a train.
Jude extracted the keys from the ignition and let them rest on her lap. My eyes latched onto her fingers, fresh desire crawling through my body. It was so at odds with what we’d just done that I forced my way out of the car and ended up crumpled against the tree. She followed me, of course.
‘Danni.’
‘Don’t,’ I mumbled.
Out here, none of it felt real. It was too normal. There was the stench of damp manure and soil, not to mention flies buzzing around my head. Shards of bark were crumbling into the grass under the weight of my shoulder. I reached across with my other hand to rip a fragment loose and watched it disintegrate into the air.
‘I didn’t stay outside,’ Jude said finally.
I tilted my head towards her.
‘You told me to, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t just about you, sweetheart. I mean, he’d told Michael and he’d tricked you into . . . I’m not blaming him for what I did afterwards – I’m not – but he kicked it all off. I’m right, aren’t I?’
‘Yeah,’ I said with difficulty.
‘So I needed to hear it for myself,’ she continued after a moment. ‘I heard him filling in the gaps. You know, he put the blame on Knight and Harriet and – and me –’
I pivoted around to face her. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’
Her fingers were massaging her scar in methodical circles. They were quivering, I realised, as her eyes flicked every which way apart from towards me. I reached up and tugged her fingers into mine and, slowly, she met my eye. The spurt of heat wasn’t sexual this time; more loving and open, like it’d been at Gerbera that night when she’d kneeled in front of my chair and gazed up at me.
‘How did Michael talk you round?’ I asked.
She ran her tongue across her lips. ‘Why does it –’
‘Tell me,’ I interrupted, pressing my free palm to her cheek. ‘Tell me.’
‘Danni . . .’ She exhaled and nodded. ‘Okay, okay. We were the most badly injured – you, me and Harriet. I don’t know if she ever told you what went on when we got outside.’
I shook my head. ‘She tried not to talk about you.’
‘Well, we ended up in a row, me and her. It was just her letting you take the calls – as soon as we were outside, I couldn’t help it. I was terrified for you and I let rip at her. The rest of them, they were walking on ahead, not really having a clue what we were meant to be doing. None of us had expected to get outside. I remember Gill . . . The others were walking and she was off to the side, near the cars. She was probably the most sensible – get in a car and get out of there. I turned, opened my mouth to call the others and then . . . That’s all I remember. And it took me about three months to get that much back.’
‘What did you remember before that?’ I questioned, running my thumb across her lower lip.
‘Images, flashes, bits of talking. Michael helped with the rest,’ she admitted with a wince. ‘I let him do it. You see, he was there and you weren’t. There was all this stuff in the papers about you. What I knew for sure was that I’d lost the . . . You’d wanted to punish me for the baby. That was what Michael said and I wanted to believe him.’
My eyes were stinging. ‘Why?’
‘Danni . . .’
‘Why?’ I repeated when she tried to turn her face away. ‘Come on, Jude. You’ve wanted to talk so talk.’
A solitary tear trickled down her cheek. ‘They told me I’d been shielded from the second blast by something. I assumed it was metal or debris. At the back end of last year – when me and Michael finally hit breaking point – he said it was you. I didn’t even know you’d been out there with me. The papers framed it like we’d both been out there in opposite directions or something, but he said . . . If it hadn’t been for you, the internal bleeding would’ve been worse. I wouldn’t just have . . . I’d be dead.’
It was what she wasn’t saying that resonated more. Apart from losing the baby and the scar around her eyebrow, I didn’t know anything about her injuries. I hadn’t wanted to know. I slid my hand from her face to her throat and urged her chin up with my thumb until she couldn’t help but look at me.
‘You can’t have kids, can you?’ I asked.
‘No.’
Her voice was stretched, taut like a tightrope. She was fighting to keep it all locked up, just like she always did. The only time she’d broken had been on that night in the bathroom, right after telling Michael she was leaving him. I could still feel her clutching my shirt until the seams splintered, body hot against mine.
‘Jude . . .’
That one word shattered whatever self-restraint she’d mustered. As tears flooded her cheeks, she curled into me with a whimper. My arms wrapped around her waist and her sobs deepened until a cool gust of wind brought us back to a muddy verge somewhere in Lincolnshire.
She stiffened in my arms and eased away. ‘Sorry.’
I remembered that too.
Before she could detach herself, I grasped her wrist and tugged her close again. I stumbled backwards into the tree, her body pressed up against mine, and swallowed hard. Although she relaxed into my arms, her shoulders were drawn up and her chin was trembling. I raised my palm to her cheek and she let out an involuntary hum. Slowly, I leaned forward and caught her lips in a gentle kiss that rippled through me like hot lava. She whimpered again as I pulled back.
‘It’s okay,’ I murmured, resting our foreheads together. ‘It’s okay.’
Her breath tickled my nose before her lips sought mine. This was stronger, more insistent, more like the Jude I recalled from two years ago. The familiarity triggered a groan from both of us and clumps of bark creaked and crumbled when she thrust us hard against the tree. A car zooming past was the only thing that stopped it becoming more than a kiss right there and then.
She broke away, a flash of the old determined Jude in her eyes. It was mingled with something else, though; a combination of love and fear that reminded me so much of that night.
‘What do we do now?’ I questioned.
‘Find a B&B?’ she suggested.
My stomach flipped. ‘Jude –’
‘Separate rooms,’ she interrupted, cupping my cheek. ‘We need breathing space, sweetheart, that’s all.’
Chapter 40
May 2
010
I twirled the stick around and managed a smile at the birds decorating the handle.
‘It’s beautiful, Dad. Thanks.’
He patted my shoulder then looked around the deserted courtyard. Mid-afternoon on a blustery day, most of the staff were taking their breaks indoors and the other patients weren’t as daft as me. Since I’d been moved to a four-bed ward, I spent as much time out here as possible, even if it meant sitting in drizzle like today, my crossword book flapping in the wind.
‘Your mum made me clear it with the doctor first. In case it snapped and you hurt yourself or something. I nearly ended up with commissions out of it.’
‘Bet she loved that.’
‘Her face was a picture, I tell you that.’ He took a sip of his coffee. ‘I know what this is about, love. You don’t have to sugar it.’
I growled. ‘Gemma told you.’
‘Don’t blame her. I’m your father, I know better than most what’s going through your head. Every time your mum talks about you coming up home with us, you go quiet. I just want you to think carefully about it. What’s keeping you down here?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted.
‘Is it her?’ he questioned after a moment. Since that day I’d gone visiting, no one used Jude’s name anymore. I knew they were trying to school me out of thinking about her.
‘Of course not. I’m not that stupid.’ I paused and ran my thumb along my stick. ‘This is my home. It’s where I grew up. I’m not being forced out by gossip and – and them. I’ve got Gemma round here, I’ve got Harriet. I haven’t done anything wrong –’
‘I know that, I know.’
‘So why should I move?’ I demanded.
He sighed and took the stick from me, tilting it towards the sky. ‘You see these markings here, on the sparrows? The most bloody intricate pieces of carving I’ve ever done. One slip and I would’ve ruined the whole thing. You have to have a few whiskies inside of you to face it; one too many and you’ll break it in two. It’s a fine line, love; that’s all I’m saying.’