Hate

by Alan Gibbons

  ‘But you’re going to the trial, aren’t you? She needs you there.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Oh, Dad.’

  ‘Don’t judge me, Eve. They took my little girl. Twenty years of love we put into Rosie. I . . .’ He lost control for a second. ‘I held her in my arms when she was born. I was made to be a dad. I loved everything about it.’ He laughed. ‘I even started to act responsibly, imagine that, Jack-the-Lad becomes Dave the Dad.’

  I had never heard him talk like this.

  ‘Rosie was my little doll. She was into everything, so curious and intense about things. She had her own mind, that one. Did we ever tell you about her sleeping in a drawer?’

  I had heard the story over and over again, but I let him tell it as if it was the first time.

  ‘You’ll be too young to remember. She decided she didn’t want to sleep in a bed. For a while she made a kind of nest out of one of the big drawers where you store bedding.’

  ‘I wonder why she wanted to do that.’

  ‘With our Rosie you didn’t ask questions like that. She was a contrary little madam. She made her own rules.’

  I nodded. In the family mythology Rosie was their dark goddess. I was just a mortal.

  ‘And those bastards took her away. For what? For kicks? For fun?’

  I chose the moment to make my point.

  ‘That’s why you should be with Mum at the trial, to see them sent down.’

  ‘The court will make its decision whether I’m there or not. I won’t make any difference. And no matter what Cathy thinks, neither will she. The law will do its thing. We will get our morsel of justice, but it won’t be enough. What’s the return on a stolen life?’

  I thought of Mum back home.

  ‘She needs you, Dad. You think she’s strong, but she’s struggling. Don’t do this.’

  He blew out his cheeks.

  ‘I can’t be there. Nothing that happened makes any sense. I can’t face it, Eve. Nobody cares what happens to the victims’ families anyway. They don’t want our story.’

  I wanted to say something, but I wasn’t the one who spoke next. I had been aware of the elderly couple next to us for some time. They were listening to our conversation. In the silence that followed Dad’s howl of pain, they leaned across.

  ‘Excuse me, I hope you don’t think we’re being nosy or intrusive.’

  Dad stared, confused.

  ‘My name is Derek Johnson. This is my wife, Trish. We . . .’ He glanced at his wife. ‘We know who you are. We read about what happened. We wanted to say that our thoughts are with you. We’ve got a daughter ourselves. We can’t imagine what you’re going through.’

  They got up to go. Mr Johnson held out his hand and Dad shook it. He barely seemed aware what was happening.

  ‘Good luck, mate. Just don’t despair, all right. Those animals, they don’t represent this country.’

  With that, they went.

  ‘See, Dad,’ I said, ‘there are good people in the world.’

  Dad watched them all the way to the car.

  ‘I know, love, but it takes a hell of a lot of people to do good. It only takes one or two to do evil.’

  The row started within minutes of us getting back. I couldn’t listen to them quarrelling. I fled upstairs, slammed the door shut and curled up in my window seat, screwing clenched fists into my eyes. In the end, the argument spilled into the hall.

  ‘Don’t you understand, Cath? It’s taking over your life. It’s becoming an obsession.’

  ‘How dare you!’

  He said something I couldn’t make out.

  ‘Rosie was my child, Dave. If I can’t fight for her, what kind of mother am I?’

  ‘You’ve got to come to terms with it. It’s eating away at you. She isn’t coming back.’

  Mum turned on him.

  ‘She filled our world once. She can’t just vanish because her heart stopped beating.’

  ‘She’s gone. End of. There’s nothing left but memories.’

  I saw my family fading. One day we would all be gone.

  ‘She isn’t gone,’ Mum said. ‘For as long as I live and breathe, she will be here in my head. I can’t close my eyes without seeing her. That little girl occupied a place in the universe. There is a hole where she once walked this Earth.’

  ‘I don’t even understand what you’re saying.’

  ‘I am saying that I have got to fill that hole. I have got to put her back in the world. I will fight for justice with every fibre of my being. That’s how she will go on. We are setting up a campaign in her name . . .’

  ‘I read the papers, Cath. I know what you’re doing.’

  He was referring to the all-day gig they held at the football ground. Eight bands played that day, free of charge.

  ‘Then join us. People ask me why you don’t come to the meetings.’

  ‘Don’t try to make out that I loved her less. She was everything to me.’

  Mum’s voice softened.

  ‘I would never accuse you of that. I wish you could join me, that’s all. People ask where you are.’

  ‘And what do you say?’

  ‘I tell them you’ve got your own way of grieving. But hear me out, Dave. The only way we can make sense of this is to do something to make sure no other kids die like she did.’

  ‘Still think you can change the world, eh?’

  ‘I’ve got to think that.’

  He had the door open.

  ‘Well, I don’t know any more. Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t changed my views. I just don’t have the same faith in people any more.’

  ‘I refuse to stop fighting.’

  ‘Fine, that’s your choice. You find your way of getting through the day. I’ll find mine. I’m going.’ He paused to shout upstairs. ‘See you, Eve love.’

  I forced out a reply.

  ‘See you, Dad.’

  The bike roared as he rode away.

  Mum sensed my presence behind her.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to hear that.’

  I changed the subject. Her computer was on and I could see Rosie’s face on the new campaign website. The impish smile belied the horrific story it told.

  ‘Is that what it’s going to look like?’

  ‘It’s one design.’ She clicked the mouse. ‘This is another. What do you think?’

  ‘The red and black background. It’s what Rosie would have chosen. When will it be ready?’

  ‘The designer says we’re close. I’m going to be doing a lot of meetings, going into schools, telling Rosie’s story. You’re going to have to fend for yourself a bit. Are you OK with that?’

  ‘With you all the way, Mum.’

  She leaned her head against me. Maybe she didn’t hear the weariness in my voice. Maybe she didn’t want to.

  ‘I wish your dad was.’

  ‘He’s with you too, in his own way.’

  She kept her head against my shoulder.

  ‘You’re very wise, Eve.’

  This was madness. She heard wisdom, strength and all the while I heard the echoes of my own weakness. I was crumbling inside. This time I was unable to hide my misery.

  ‘No, I’m not!’

  The words came flying out like shards of glass.

  ‘Hey, what is this?’

  ‘Rosie was the wise one. She knew about ecology and renewables and peace and why wars are wrong and why they do animal experiments and why parliament doesn’t listen to the people. She knew why the banks crashed and why poor people pay for the mistakes of the rich. She knew why people starve when the world can grow more food than it needs . . .’

  I ran out of breath and stood there trembling.

  ‘Eve?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m not good enough. I can’t live up to her memory. I’m the 0.9 child. She was about other people and I’m only about me. I’m the selfish one, the runt. Mum, I’ve always been second best. Maybe it should have been me that night, not her.’

  She w
as out of her seat with her arms round me. Her fingers were in my hair and her tears were on my face.

  ‘I can’t even tell Anthony what I think of him. She was brave and I’m not. She was everything and I’m . . .’ I talked through the sobs. ‘I am nothing.’

  ‘Eve, oh, I’m sorry, Evie. I didn’t think. I’ve been so wrapped up in the court case and the campaign. How long have you been feeling this way?’

  I shook my head. I couldn’t answer.

  Her fingertips stroked my cheeks. ‘You were so different, the pair of you. Maybe she commanded attention in a way you didn’t. But you’re my thoughtful, beautiful girl. Your dad and I love you to bits. We’ve never compared the two of you. Love isn’t like that. If I let you feel anything less than my precious child, I’m so sorry.’

  She let me slip out of her embrace and I stumbled to the settee. She was immediately by my side.

  ‘It’s so hard,’ I told her. ‘When Anthony appeared that day, when I heard Mrs Rawmarsh say his name . . .’

  Then I let her hold me. Neither of us spoke another word.

  YOU’RE GOING TO REMEMBER ME

  Tuesday, 11 March 2014

  The sight of Jess raising her arm drew a groan from Connor. Jake still looked subdued after Oli’s jibe at the hustings. He’d taken a lot of stick. I had been wary of the pair ever since I heard the stories about Connor’s dad.

  ‘You have a question, Jess?’

  ‘Yes, we voted on the debate yesterday afternoon. When do we get the result?’

  ‘You’ll know tomorrow. OK, there is one more announcement. On Thursday evening it is the final of Shackleton’s Got Talent, starting at seven o’clock. Entrance is strictly by ticket only. At the last count we had fifty-five tickets left. It is first come, first served. Right, off you go to your classes.’

  Connor barged Jess out of the way as we left the room, making her stumble into me. I caught my hip on a desk and winced at the pain.

  ‘Hey you,’ Jess snapped. ‘Aren’t you going to apologise?’

  Connor sneered.

  ‘In your dreams.’

  I wanted to drag her away, but she was trembling with fury.

  ‘Just because Oli showed you up in front of everybody.’

  ‘He showed himself up, the poof.’

  ‘You’re pathetic. Oli ran rings round you.’

  ‘That mouth of his is going to get him in trouble.’

  My flesh crawled. Jess spat out her frustration.

  ‘You’re a pig, Connor.’

  ‘And you’re a bitch.’

  I was trying to get Jess away. She was twisting round, glaring. Connor laughed in her face.

  ‘You need to watch Connor,’ I told her.

  ‘Yes, you already said.’

  ‘Jess, please take me seriously. I keep hearing more stuff about that family. His dad is really dangerous.’

  Jess was stubborn.

  ‘Oli isn’t scared of anybody.’

  I made a grab for her hand.

  ‘Listen to me. This is no time for grand gestures. More than anyone, I know what people like that can do. Maybe Oli should be worried. Please tell him to be careful.’

  I gave her hand a squeeze. She squeezed back.

  ‘It’s OK, worrywart, nothing’s going to happen.’

  ‘Jess, please. I’m begging you. Talk to Oli.’

  ‘Connor Hughes is just a sad, sorry moron. He doesn’t bother me. Forget him.’

  Connor was turning the corner. He seemed to have overheard at least part of the conversation. He pointed a finger at Jess.

  ‘Oh, you’re going to remember me, bitch, you and your stinking perv of a brother.’

  Mrs Rawmarsh had missed the first part of the incident. Halfway down the corridor, she stopped and spun round.

  ‘Connor, that’s enough!’

  He sauntered off with Jake following in his wake. Jess looked shaken.

  ‘Did you hear what he called me, Miss? And what he said about Oli?’

  ‘I’ll be having a word with Mr Hudson, Jess. I’m afraid the debate has stirred up some ugly feelings. We’re keeping our eye on Connor.’

  But they weren’t, not really.

  We were on our way into the dining hall when Rehana drew Jess’s attention to the posters advertising the Great Debate. Simon’s photograph was untouched. Oli’s was covered with insults scrawled in felt tip: poof, queer, bum boy. There were also a series of crudely scribbled, obscene drawings. Jess tore the posters down. With the posters still in her fists she marched towards the serving hatch.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I hissed as I made a grab for her.

  She sailed out of my grasp.

  ‘I’m going to make people see sense.’

  She barged her way to the front of the queue, ignoring the angry protests that bubbled around her. She looked around for a moment then snatched a ladle and pounded it on the metal counter. Heads turned. A hush fell over the usually noisy diners.

  ‘Looks like I’ve got your attention,’ Jess announced in a clear, strong voice. ‘This won’t take long.’

  One of the lunchtime assistants was hurrying her way, but Jess was in full flow.

  ‘Some of you might have seen these. Somebody . . .’ Her gaze travelled around the room. ‘Somebody who hasn’t got the guts to say anything to my brother’s face has scrawled insults all over his picture. Anyone want to own up?

  ‘Oh, come on, somebody here knows who did it. Don’t be shy. If you’ve got something to say, come out with it.’

  The silence continued. She spotted Jake and Connor skulking in a corner.

  ‘Anyone?’ She waited a beat. ‘I’ll give you another chance. You were quick enough to write this filth. I want whoever did it to come up here and say why.’

  She waited. I could see her trembling.

  ‘Fine, that’s typical of the kind of scumbag who uses words like this. That’s what bigots are like. They hide in the dark. Do you want to hear what it says?’

  Still, no one spoke. The lunchtime assistant just stood there.

  ‘Well, I’m going to read it anyway. You can laugh if you like, that’s what people do when you use words like this. But when you’re done laughing I want you to think about them and the harm they can do. Imagine what it’s like if you hear them all the time, if people don’t respect you for who you are.’ She flattened the posters on the counter and read each word, jabbing at them with her finger. ‘Poof, queer, bum boy. Oh, there’s one I missed, perv. Hey, the idiot who wrote this spelled it right.’ She clapped her hands sarcastically. ‘Four whole letters, three consonants and a vowel. Well done!’

  She glared at her audience, eyes flashing with indignation.

  ‘Do you find them funny? Good, because I’d come over there and wipe the stupid, ignorant grin off your faces. Oli, my beautiful brother . . . is . . . gay. Get it? But he is so much more than that. He is the best brother anybody could have. He is kind, caring and considerate. He listens to my problems when I’m down. More than that, he is so brave. It can’t be easy to stand up in front of the whole school and come out, but that’s what he did. I love him and I am so proud of him. Anybody wants to hurt my brother, they are going to have to come through me. Got that?’

  There wasn’t a sound. Then, without any warning, Jess ran out of the room. She left a shoe behind. I scooped it up and pursued her into the yard. Behind me there was a round of applause that lasted long after I had chased her down to a quiet corner by the library. She was clawing tears from her eyes.

  ‘Aw, Eve, what have I done now?’

  It took her three goes to get her foot in the shoe.

  ‘You told the truth.’

  ‘Oh God, I’ve made a complete idiot of myself in front of the whole school.’

  ‘Jess, they loved you.’

  My arm slid round her shoulder. We didn’t say much, just clung to each other. That’s when I became aware of a pair of figures looming over us. Jess stood up to face Mrs Rawmarsh and Mr Hudson.

>   ‘I’m in trouble, aren’t I?’

  ‘Actually, no, you’re not.’

  Jess was confused.

  ‘I threw one hell of a hissy fit in the dining hall.’

  Mr Hudson smiled.

  ‘You just made a very passionate, eloquent speech. You stuck up for equal rights.’

  ‘Did I? I thought I was backing Oli.’

  ‘The bit I heard went a bit further than a defence of your brother.’

  Mrs Rawmarsh took her cue from him.

  ‘You might have been a little more diplomatic about how you did it, but you have nothing to worry about, Jess.’ She smiled. ‘Far from it. We’re not going to tell the rest of the school until tomorrow, but Oli won the debate by a landslide.’

  I knew the moment I slid into the passenger seat that something was wrong.

  ‘Mum?’

  She didn’t respond, but I saw the way she was gripping the steering wheel.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  She pulled away. When I finally got an answer her voice was thick with emotion.

  ‘I went round to see Emma Broad.’

  The news struck me like a punch in the stomach.

  ‘This is bad news, isn’t it?’

  ‘I waited outside the flat until Anthony arrived home from school. You should have seen the look on his face when he saw me. He froze. I never saw myself as somebody to be feared. I told him I knew his mother was in the flat.’

  She took a left onto the Manchester Road. For a moment she stopped speaking. Streetlamps stuttered in the dark. She picked up the story.

  ‘She must have seen us from the window. Next moment the door flew open and she started to drag him inside. She wasn’t in any mood to listen. She told me to leave her son alone. She was screaming.’

  ‘Oh Mum, I was worried something like this was going to happen.’

  ‘Your dad warned me. I wanted a jury to hear what those thugs did to my little girl. The truth has got to come out.’

  She parked in front of the house, her front tyre scuffing the kerb.

  ‘She said I was a mad woman. She said . . .’ Her eyes were desperate. ‘She accused me of stalking her son. I didn’t get a chance to explain myself.’