Seventy-nine. Sephy

It took a while before I heard the strange tip-tapping at my window. And once I was conscious of it, I instinctively knew that it’d been going on for a while. Not bothering to wipe my face, I headed for my window and opened it. Tiny stones lay at my feet.

Callum . . .

Callum in our back garden. I leaned over my balcony and saw him at once.

‘What . .?’ I lowered my voice. ‘What’re you doing here?’

‘I need to see you.’

‘I’ll come down.’

‘No. I’ll come up.’

I looked around anxiously. ‘OK. But be quick.’

‘How do I get up there?’

‘Just a sec. Er . . . can you climb up the drainpipe and use the ivy for footholds?’

‘I’ll break my neck.’

‘Hang on, I’ll tie some sheets together then.’

‘No, don’t bother.’

Without another word, Callum clambered up the drainpipes and the ivy, reaching my balcony in about ten seconds flat. My heart leapt up into my throat as I watched him. If he fell now . . . The moment he reached my balcony, I hauled him over, terrified he’d plummet to his death.

‘Did you phone me? I didn’t hear your signal,’ I told Callum, confused.

‘I didn’t phone. I came straight here,’ Callum replied. ‘I hid in the rose garden until the coast was clear.’

We stood in the middle of my room. He looked at me and I looked at him and all the events of our lifetimes finally caught up with us. I wanted to say sorry for everything that’d happened to his dad, sorry for everything that was still happening, but even in my head the words sounded trite and totally inadequate. Better to say nothing. Safer. And I couldn’t forget the way he’d looked at me as the prison clock struck. I was the first to look away. I’d known Callum all my life and yet I felt as if we’d only just met.

‘Is there anything I can do?’

Or maybe I’d done enough. Me and my kind . . . I risked a glance at Callum. He didn’t answer. He just watched me.

‘How’s your mum . .?’ Stupid question. ‘Is she still staying with relatives or friends? Is she . .?’

‘She’s at my aunt’s house,’ Callum replied.

I looked around my room. Should I sit or stand? What should I say? What should I do? Inside, I was beginning to panic.

I ran to lock the door. The last thing either of us needed was to have my mother or sister enter the room. Sighing with relief at the click of the key in the lock, I turned, only to bump straight into Callum. Dazed, I looked up at him.

‘I . . . I thought you were going to get help,’ Callum told me.

I shook my head, shocked. Why would he think such a thing? ‘Listen, if I wanted to get help, you wouldn’t have made it to my bedroom window,’ I told him.

But he was hardly listening. He just kept staring at me, his expression freezing by degrees.

‘Callum . .?’

‘Your father must be so proud of himself,’ Callum’s eyes narrowed. ‘An innocent man is going to rot in prison and just like that his political reputation is restored.’

‘No . . .’ I whispered. ‘It wasn’t like that . . .’

But it was – and we both knew it.

‘Is this the way it’s going to be from now on? Whenever a politician is in trouble in the polls, if they can’t start a war, they’ll just search out the nearest nought to imprison or hang – or both?’

I didn’t take my eyes off Callum’s face. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him slowly clenching and unclenching his fists. I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I hardly dared to breathe. Callum was hurting so much, it was tearing him up inside. And he wanted to hurt someone.

‘And what about you, Sephy?’ he asked.

‘W-what about me?’ I whispered.

‘No more you and me, I take it,’ Callum said with contempt. ‘After all you wouldn’t want to ruin your future career prospects by being spotted with the son of the Dundale bomber.’

‘I know your dad didn’t do it.’

‘Oh yes? Well, so did the jury – for all the difference it made. D’you know how long they deliberated? One hour. One lousy, stinking hour.’ His head slumped in despair.

‘Callum, I’m so sorry . . .’ I touched his cheek.

His head shot up. He glared at me with white-hot, burning hatred. My hand fell quickly to my side.

‘I don’t want your ruddy pity,’ he shouted.

‘Shush . . .’ I pleaded, glancing at my bedroom door.

‘Why should I?’ Callum challenged. ‘Don’t you want anyone to know you’ve got a blanker in your room?’

‘Callum, don’t . . .’ I didn’t even realize I was crying until a salt tear ran into the corner of my mouth.

‘I want to smash you and every other dagger who crosses my path. I hate you so much it scares me,’ he told me.

‘I . . . I know you do.’ I whispered. ‘You’ve hated me ever since you joined Heathcroft and I called you a blanker.’ I realized it as I said it. And in that moment I realized a lot of things, including why I’d started knocking back wine.

‘And you’ve hated me for turning my back on you at school and not being there when you needed me,’ said Callum.

I didn’t deny it.

‘So why’re we still together?’ Callum spoke softly to himself, almost forgetting that I was right in front of him. ‘Why do I still think of you as . .?’

‘As your best friend?’ I supplied. ‘Because you know that’s how I think of you. Because . . . because I love you. And you love me, I think . . .’

My words snapped Callum out of his reverie with a vengeance. A hard, mocking look flashed over his face. I waited for him to do something; laugh, lash out, deny it, leave – anything. But he didn’t.

‘Did you hear what I said?’ I tried again. ‘I love you.’

‘Love doesn’t exist. Friendship doesn’t exist – not between a nought and a Cross. There’s no such thing,’ Callum replied.

And he meant every word.

‘Then what’re you doing in my room?’ I asked, choking inside. ‘Why did you come?’

Callum shrugged. ‘I’m damned if I know.’

With a sigh I moved over to the bed and sat down. After a moment’s hesitation, Callum came and sat down beside me. I can’t remember either of us ever feeling more awkward. I struggled desperately to find something to say. Risking a glance in Callum’s direction, I saw at once from the look on his face that he was having exactly the same problem.

I had so many things I wanted to tell him. The words tumbled and jumbled around in my head, making me dizzy. But nothing would come out. I turned to Callum and slowly held my arms out towards him. He looked puzzled, then his expression cleared. He watched me intently. My gaze dropped. Another of my stupid ideas. I started to lower my arms. Taking hold of my hands, he shuffled along the bed towards me.

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 caught 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.’

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 589