Wrapping his arms around me, he lay down on the duvet cover, taking me with him. We faced each other, our eyes locked. I licked my lips nervously. Now what? Callum kissed me. And I kissed him back. We were comfort kissing, that’s all. We wrapped our arms around each other for solace. Bear hugging. Squeezing the life out of each other as if we were trying to merge together. When at last we loosened our grip, in a strange way we were both more . . . calm. Physically, at least. Not mentally.
‘Turn around,’ Callum whispered.
I was about to argue but then I thought better of it. I did as I was asked. He wrapped his arms around me. We were cuddled up like a couple of spoons in a cutlery drawer. I toyed with the idea of suggesting that we get under the covers but I decided not to push it. I didn’t want to give Callum a reason to panic and leave. Maybe there was some way to suggest it . . . gently? I raised an eyebrow. Gently? Yeah, right! But it would’ve been wonderful. Just Callum and me locked together, locking out the whole world. Bliss. But one step at a time. And besides, what we were doing now wasn’t too shabby! Better to settle for this than his hatred. Better this than nothing at all.
Callum sighed. I shuffled back to get closer to him. I felt him relax, his body warm against mine. My sigh echoed his.
‘Are you OK?’ His breath was warm and soft in my ear.
‘Uh-hm!’ I mumbled.
‘I’m not squashing you’
‘Uh-uh!’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Callum, shut up.’
I felt rather than saw him smile. His first smile in a long while, I think.
‘Don’t leave without giving me your new address and phone number,’ I murmured. ‘I don’t want to lose you again.’
I don’t even know if he heard me and I was too comfy to find out. Then I thought of something else. Something which struggled through my lethargic haze. Something that’d been troubling me for a while now.
‘Callum,’ I whispered. ‘I’m sorry I sat at your table.’
‘What’re you talking about?’
‘Your table. At school,’ I said, sleepily. ‘And I’m sorry for what happened at Lynette’s funeral.’
And sorry for all the million and one other well-meant but badly thought out things I’d done in my life. Acts to make me feel better. Actions that had hurt Callum rather than helped him. Sorry, Callum. Sorry. Sorry.
‘Forget it. I have,’ Callum’s warm breath whispered across my cheek, before he kissed it.
I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to drift away. I was cuddled up with Callum and for once this time was ours and no-one else’s. With that thought in my mind, I drifted off to sleep, with Callum still holding me.
eighty. Callum
Sephy was out like a light. Lucky her. I lay on her bed with my arms wrapped around her, wondering how on earth we’d managed to end up like this. I’m not sure what’d been on my mind when I came to see her, but this wasn’t it! Strange the way things turn out. When I’d come into her room, I’d been burning up with the desire to smash her and everything else around her. Sephy was a Cross I could actually hurt. And yet here she was, asleep and still holding on to my arms like I was a life-raft or something. There’s not a single millimetre of space between her body and mine. I could move my hands and . . . And. Anything I liked. Caress or strangle. Kill or cure. Her or me. Me or her.
I lifted my head, to make sure she was really asleep. Eyes closed, regularly breathing, in-out, in-out. Dead to the world. Lucky her.
She turned in her sleep to face me, her arms instinctively reaching out to hug and hold me close to her. I lowered my head back down to the pillow. Each time Sephy exhaled, her breath tickled my cheek. I moved my head down slightly so that our noses were almost touching. So that when she breathed, she’d have to breathe my breath and I’d have to breathe hers. And then I kissed her. Her eyes opened almost immediately, sleepy but smiling. Her hands crept up to frame my face and, closing her eyes again, she returned my kiss, her mouth open, her tongue dancing against mine. Fireworks were shooting through my body. I was finding it hard to breathe. So was she. I pulled away abruptly.
‘Why are you kissing me?’ I asked, frustrated anger creeping into my voice. ‘Passion or guilt?’
Sephy looked so sad, so hurt, that I instantly regretted my words. She went to roll away from me, but I held her arm and wouldn’t let her.
‘Sorry,’ I murmured.
‘Maybe you should go . . .’ Sephy whispered, still not looking at me.
‘Not yet. Please. I’m sorry.’ I placed my hand under Sephy’s chin and raised her head so that she could look at me and know I meant it. She tried to smile. I tried to smile back.
I opened my arms for her. ‘Let’s just get some sleep – OK?’
Sephy nodded. I lay on my back and Sephy settled down to lie with her head on my shoulder. She was asleep again in less than a minute. Lucky, lucky, lucky. Ten minutes must’ve passed. Then fifteen. I couldn’t stand it any longer.
‘Sephy, d’you want to know a secret,’ I mouthed against her ear.
She moved her ear slightly away from my mouth. My breath must’ve tickled her. But she was still fast asleep.
‘Here is my confession,’ I whispered. And I told her what I’d never told anyone else. What I hadn’t even admitted to myself. The biggest secret of all.
God, if you are up there – somewhere – you’ve got a very peculiar sense of humour.
eighty-one. Sephy
‘Miss Sephy? Are you all right in there?’
‘Persephone, open this door. At once.’
The dream I was having was so warm and comfortable, apart from that incessant calling somewhere in the background. I opened my eyes slowly, only to have them fly right open when I saw whose shoulder I was perched upon. Callum’s. His arm was around my shoulders and he was fast asleep.
‘Persephone, open this door right this second or I’ll get someone to break it down,’ Mother yelled.
‘Miss Sephy, are you OK. Please.’ Sarah pulled at the door handle.
I sat bolt upright. ‘Just . . . just a minute,’ I yelled, shaking Callum awake.
‘What . . . what’s the . .?’ Callum began sleepily.
Putting one hand over his mouth, I pointed to the bedroom door. He got it at once. I pointed to my bathroom door. Callum jumped off the bed and ran towards it.
‘Look, why don’t I just let them in,’ I whispered. ‘I want Mother to know about us. Besides, we haven’t done anything wrong.’ The look Callum gave me instantly changed my mind. ‘Bad idea?’
‘Duh!!’ Callum replied.
I looked down at my clothes. I still had my Jackson Spacey dress on – although by now it had so many creases in it that it looked like the skin on a day-old macaroni cheese. If Mother saw it, she’d kill me.
‘Just a minute, Sarah. I’m just putting on my dressing-gown,’ I called out.
After pulling the belt tight and making sure none of my dress could be seen, I ran to the door, waiting until Callum had scooted into my bathroom before I turned the key in the lock.
‘What’s the matter? Is the house on fire?’ I asked as Sarah and Mother bustled past me.
‘D’you know what time it is?’ Mother asked.
‘So I overslept a few minutes. Big deal,’ I said, annoyed.
‘Ten minutes? It’s almost noon and your door is locked. You never lock your door,’ Sarah said suspiciously.
‘Maybe I decided to bring a little excitement into your lives,’ I yawned.
And then I saw them. Callum’s trainers, right by my bed in plain, full, multi-colour view. My heart dropped to my ankles then bounced right up to my mouth.
‘I’ll be down as soon as I’ve had my shower,’ I smiled brightly. ‘I promise.’
‘There’s nothing wrong?’
‘’Course not. What could be wrong?’ I said, a little too emphatically judging by the deepening look of suspicion on Sarah’s face. She looked around slowly, stopping abruptly when she c
aught sight of the men’s trainers on the floor. She gave me a profoundly shocked look and I knew at once what was going on in her head. Pursing my lips, I fought hard to stop myself from looking guilty. I hadn’t done anything wrong. And if Callum and I had been at it all night like bunny rabbits instead of fast asleep, it still wouldn’t have been any of her business.
‘There’s something strange going on around here,’ Mother said slowly.
‘Just ’cause I overslept?’ I asked, more to focus her attention on me than for any other reason.
Sarah walked towards Callum’s shoes as Mother scrutinized my face. Although my eyes were on Mother, I was aware of Sarah’s every movement. She was going to hold up Callum’s trainers with a flourish for Mother to feast on.
‘Sarah, what . .?’
As Mother turned around, Sarah kicked the trainers under my bed. All Mother saw was Sarah tidying up my bedclothes as if she was making my bed.
‘Don’t do that, Sarah,’ Mother admonished. ‘My daughter is quite capable of making up her own bed. That’s not your job.’
Sarah dropped my duvet with a prim ‘Yes, Mrs Hadley.’
Mother marched out in high dudgeon, followed by Sarah trotting behind her.
‘Get Callum dressed and out of here!’ Sarah whispered urgently as she passed me.
‘How did you . .?’ My mouth snapped shut. I shut the door behind them, carefully locking it so neither of them would be alerted by the noise.
‘OK, Callum. You can come out now.’
Callum popped his head around my bathroom door and had a look around before he came back into my bedroom. We looked at each other and burst out laughing. And it felt so good.
‘How am I going to get out of here?’ Callum asked.
I had a long, hard think. ‘We’ll have to sneak out of the house and across the grounds to the beach. If we see anyone, I’ll distract them whilst you sneak past.’
‘Just your ordinary average Sunday-morning activity!’ Callum said dryly.
‘Never a dull moment,’ I agreed.
‘Fancy another cuddle in the bed first?’ asked Callum.
I smiled. ‘You betcha!’
eighty-two. Callum
‘Ryan Callum McGregor, the convicted bomber of the Dundale Shopping Centre, was killed this morning whilst trying to escape from Hewmett Prison. He was electrocuted whilst trying to scale the electrified fence surrounding the prison. Ryan McGregor, who was due to hang four days ago, received a dramatic last-minute reprieve from the Home Office. His family are said to be devastated at the news and were unavailable for comment. Officials have launched an immediate enquiry.’
eighty-three. Sephy
Dear God,
Please leave Callum’s family alone. But it’s not you, is it? My mistake. This has nothing to do with you. This is more like the devil’s work. Another mistake? Maybe hatred has nothing to do with the devil either. Maybe it’s something we’ve invented. And then we just blame it on you, God, or on the devil, because it’s easier than blaming ourselves. I’m not thinking straight. I can’t think. Dear God, look after Callum and his family. Help them. Help us all.
eighty-four. Callum
I entered the burger bar and waited my turn in the long queue. This Friday was just like the Friday before and would probably be exactly like the Friday to follow. My days stretched out before me like some kind of galactic desert. Funny how the days could go so slowly and time could pass so fast. They’d killed . . . they’d murdered my dad in July and when he died, I think something inside me had died as well. And although since then the weeks had come and gone, it still cut like a knife every time I thought of my dad – which was all the time. Officially, the authorities might call it suicide, but I and every other nought knew differently.
And I hadn’t seen Sephy since the Saturday night-Sunday morning I’d spent with her. Sarah hadn’t given us away but she’d made sure it was practically impossible for me to slip back into the house again. A guard was now on permanent patrol.
I’d visited the beach a few times but to be honest I never stayed very long. Going to the beach felt like trying to recapture the past – an impossible task. Too much had happened over the last year. I never saw Sephy anyway, which was probably just as well. At least the memory of that night in her bed was beginning to fade a little. Not much. But a very little. If I tried very hard to think about something else – and rubbed my stomach and patted my head at the same time! I forced myself to think of Dad. What were the thoughts running through his head as he stood before the fence? What was the last thing he thought of before he died? I’d never know. Something else to hate the Crosses for.
I gave my order to the cashier, ignoring the plastic smile on her face as she served me, and waited for my food. When I’d received my burger, french fries and milk, I sought out the darkest corner of the burger bar. I finally sat down with my back to the throng and slowly chewed on a chip. I wasn’t even hungry. It was just something to do to pass the time until the afternoon had passed. Now that I wasn’t at school, I never knew what to do with myself. Totally aimless, I had nothing to do and nowhere to go. Since Dad’s death, Mum was lost somewhere deep inside herself where I couldn’t reach her. No-one could. I had tried, but it was hopeless. Maybe if I’d been Lynette, her favourite child, or Jude, her first-born son, but . . . I chewed on another chip. I was sixteen and a half, and already it felt as if my life was over. The good times, the best times, were over.
‘Hi, little brother.’
I looked up and my eyes began to hurt I was staring so hard. Jude . . . Jude! I leapt up and, leaning across the table, I hugged him – hard!
‘I’ve missed you,’ I told him.
‘Get off. Are you mad, or what?’ Jude glanced around before sitting opposite me. I sat back down, beaming at him.
‘Stop grinning like an idiot!’ Jude told me sourly.
‘It’s great to see you too!’ I replied. ‘Where’ve you been? I really have missed you.’
Jude took another look around. ‘I’ve been keeping my head down for a while.’
My smile disappeared. ‘You . . . you know what happened to Dad?’
‘Oh yes, I know,’ Jude said grimly. ‘I know all about it. And it’s payback time.’
‘What d’you mean?’
Jude sat back in his chair. His eyes darted here, there and everywhere and although he sat perfectly still, he reminded me of a nervous cat, ready to leap off at a nanosecond’s notice.
‘I hear they booted you out of Heathcroft,’ Jude said at last.
‘I wasn’t booted. I walked,’ I told him huffily.
‘Good for you. That wasn’t the place for you, little brother.’
‘I know that now.’
‘It’s a shame you didn’t listen to me when I told you months ago. It would’ve saved you a lot of grief.’
I shrugged. What else was there to say?
‘So what’re you up to now?’ Jude asked.
‘I eat chips.’ I pointed at my polystyrene tray.
‘Would you like to do something more worthwhile?’
‘Like what?’
Jude stood up. ‘I have to go now. Someone will be in touch.’
‘Jude, don’t do your “Man of Mystery” routine on me.’ I frowned. ‘What am I meant to tell Mum?’
‘Don’t tell her anything,’ Jude said vehemently. ‘Where we’re going, she can’t follow.’
‘And where are we going?’
‘I think you know, little brother.’
‘Stop calling me that,’ I protested. ‘What’re you up to, Jude?’
‘Just tell me one thing,’ Jude said. ‘Are you in or out?’
He was deliberately being enigmatic, answering each of my questions with a question of his own. And it was really cheesing me off. But I knew what he was asking. This was my chance to link up with the Liberation Militia. And I knew in my gut that if I turned Jude down now, I’d never be asked again.
‘Well?’ Jude prompted.<
br />
I licked my lips, trying to delay the moment of decision.
‘This is your chance to make a difference,’ Jude told me.
And just like that, I felt a calmness, a purpose I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. I looked at Jude and said, ‘I’m in.’
Jude nodded, satisfied. ‘Then go home, pack your bags and make your peace with Mum. You’ll be contacted tomorrow some time. After that you won’t be seeing Mum or anyone else we know for that matter for a while. Are you still in?’
I nodded.
‘Welcome to the lifeboat party, little brother,’ Jude said adding, ‘I hope I can trust you.’
And a moment later, he was gone.
eighty-five. Sephy
Dear Callum,
I was going to phone you but I knew I’d bottle out and never say what I wanted to say. So I’ve decided to write it all down. I’ve thought and thought about it and I think I’ve found a way for both of us to get away from all this madness. You’re sixteen, nearly seventeen and I’m almost fifteen so don’t say I’m too young or anything stupid like that. Just read this letter with an open mind, that’s all I ask.
I think you and I should go away together. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just the two of us. For good. Before you throw this letter in the bin, my brain hasn’t dropped out of my ear. I know what I’m saying is right. I want to be with you and I think you want to be with me. I’m not going to swear undying love or any of that other stuff you despise so much, but if we don’t leave now and together, then something tells me we never will. I’m not talking about the two of us becoming lovers or anything like that. I don’t think either of us is ready for that. Besides, I know that’s the last thing you’d want. But the two of us could set off together. Set up together. Stay together. Save each other – if that doesn’t sound too melodramatic. I think it probably does. But I mean it. And if you think about it, you’ll realize deep down that I’m right.