Amber wakes with a start. Her eyes are pinpricks and her forehead is slick with sweat. Even the fat woman looks up. As Amber’s teeth chatter, Imo strokes her hair and gradually she settles and sleeps again. By the time they pull into the terminus, she’s deeply asleep. The carriage empties around them. Imo shakes Amber’s shoulder, whispers in her ear, pats her knee, but she doesn’t stir.
Tegan claps her hands. “Wake up, sleepy head.”
Amber cowers in her seat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re safe now.” Tegan strokes her arm, ashamed that she’s startled her. Amber’s eyes resemble Tegan’s mother’s when her father had one of his moods. For the first time, she’s completely convinced that they’re doing the right thing. The larger-than-life Amber of Freshers’ Week has been reduced to a shrivelled wreck. They have to get Leonie away from Jane Brown.
“We’re getting a taxi to Ealing,” she tells the others when they reach the concourse. “I’m paying.”
A cold wind blows outside the station and several people head for the taxi rank. Tegan manages to elbow their way to a mini-bus taxi. Adopting her Welshest persona, Tegan sits beside the driver and distracts him with inane conversation. Hoping he won’t notice Amber’s distressed cries in the back as she tosses and turns in her sleep.
They hit traffic. Even though the driver uses taxi lanes and rat runs, it’s 5 p.m. before they get to Ealing. He pulls up in the service road in front of Jane’s apartment block. Tegan hands over the money as Imo and Riku help Amber out of the back.
“We’re here,” Imo says gently.
Amber gets out of the car and strides towards the building, but the strong wind stops her in her tracks. She loses her breath and collapses against Imo. Tegan takes her arm and helps Imo get her to the entrance as the wind gets stronger. Dark clouds are beginning to form above them.
Before Tegan can stop her, Imo reaches for the doorbell panel. But instead of ringing Jane’s bell and giving her a head start, she presses the buzzer for Flat 416. The pensioner. Good, thinks Tegan, she’s learning.
“State your business,” a reedy voice says.
“My name’s Imogen. I came the other day to see your neighbour. Do you know if she’s back?”
“I heard a kiddie crying this morning.”
“Leonie,” Amber gasps.
“What’s that?” The man sounds suspicious.
Tegan takes charge. “Can you buzz us in so we can surprise her?”
“You’re the dog whisperer. How are you, love?”
“If you let me in, we can have a chat.”
There’s a crackle and then the door clicks open. They bundle inside, sheltering from the wind. The old man is in the hallway when they emerge from the lift onto the fourth floor. He greets Tegan as if she’s a long-lost granddaughter.
“Come in, come in. I’ve put the kettle on.” He gestures towards his open front door.
“We’re short of time,” Tegan says, but feels bad for having to disappoint him.
His face falls, but he turns to Riku, apparently resolved to make the best of his last chance at human contact. “Which one’s your girlfriend then? They’re all smashers.” He chuckles until he has a closer look at Amber, who is leaning heavily against Imo. “Is she …”
“Jetlag,” Tegan says. “Back from a round-the-world trip: India, China, South Korea.”
The man’s face hardens. “My brother died at Imjin River.”
“That must have been awful for your family.” Tegan adopts what she hopes is a sympathetic tone as she edges towards Jane’s door with her credit card in her hand. Trust her to have said Korea. Phoenix picks up on what she’s doing and steps between her and the old man.
“Such a terrible waste of lives,” she says, keeping his attention away from Tegan.
But before Tegan can use her card, there’s a click as a key turns in Jane’s lock and a bolt is drawn across.
“Eighteen Chinese to every one of ours,” the old man says.
Amber continues to doze on Imo’s shoulder, unaware that Jane must have barricaded herself inside. Tegan makes eye contact with Riku and he gets the message. He goes to stand in front of the locked door and leans away from it.
“Only twenty made it back alive.” The old man gives a sad shake of his head.
“A tragedy.” Phoenix nods in sympathy.
Tegan keeps her eyes on Riku.
There’s a thump-thump and a crashing clank as Riku’s foot connects with the door. Everyone jumps, except Amber who is still dozing. The door breaks loose of its frame, wood splintering.
The old man stares at Riku for a moment, then starts to wheeze. “What … what do you want?” he pants.
When Imo and Phoenix attempt to comfort him, he backs away. Distracted by their desire to calm him down, they don’t notice when what’s left of Jane’s front door scrapes against the floor and opens. Riku suddenly doubles over, yelping in pain. For one terrifying moment Tegan thinks he’s been stabbed. But it’s a knee to the groin. Jane Brown appears in the doorway, her eyes blazing. She darts past them with the child in her arms. Runs down the hall and clatters through the fire escape at the end.
“Leonie!” Amber is wide awake now and lumbers after them. Imo goes with her, still holding onto Amber’s arm.
“Let’s go down in the lift. We can head them off,” Phoenix shouts and presses the elevator call button.
Tegan pauses, turning to the old man. “This is not what it looks like,” she tells him, but he hastens into his flat and bolts the door.
Tegan sees the lift descend with Phoenix and Riku inside. Too late. She’ll have to take the fire escape. But when she reaches the stairwell, a sound makes her stop. A metal door clanks shut above her and a realization settles in her gut. Jane hasn’t run downstairs; she’s gone up to the roof garden. Tegan stares up the steps. If Imo and Amber have chased her there, they’ll be facing her on their own. Riku and Phoenix have gone the wrong way.
Chapter 68
Tegan
Heart pounding, Tegan mounts the fire escape. The steps are steep – designed for rushing down, not up. She struggles up to the top and wrestles with the heavy door. Through the grubby window she can see the roof garden, plants blowing around in the wind. She forces the handle down hard and hears a click. Pulls the door open and, when the gap’s wide enough, she slips through and the door slams behind her.
A blast of cold air knocks her back and she has to catch her breath. She must have got it wrong. They’re not here. All she can see is a wooden trellis, the size of a football net, fixed into a raised flowerbed, built up with railway sleepers. A magnificent yellow climbing rose fills the trellis. This must be the old man’s pride and joy. He mentioned his roof garden on their last visit.
She’s about to go down again, when the wind changes direction and carries a woman’s voice. Tegan creeps along the flowerbed until she can see four figures on the far side of the vast, open roof space. Imo and Amber huddle together against the wind with their backs to her.
Beyond them, in the corner, where two sides of the perimeter wall meet, is Jane. With the child on her hip, she uses her free hand to push a garden table to the wall on her right. When she’s positioned it, she strokes the child’s back, but keeps her eyes on Amber and speaks. Tegan edges closer to hear her above traffic sounds.
“You should have stayed away,” she says. “We were doing fine. Three years fine. This isn’t helping anyone. Least of all yourself.” She spots Tegan. “Perhaps you can make your friends see sense,” she calls. “Get them off here. It’s dangerous.”
As she talks, she comes forward to a wooden picnic bench that’s been knocked over. Taking hold of a leg, she drags it awkwardly back to her corner. She swaps the child to her left side to get a better hold on the bench.
Tegan raises her palms submissively and joins Imo and Amber. The three watch as Jane rights the bench and pushes it lengthways to the end of the table, creating a barricade for her and the chi
ld between the garden furniture and the back wall. The wind howls across the concrete roof and Tegan folds her arms against the cold.
Jane speaks again. “What will your mother think of you, Amber, if she finds out you lied again?” She sounds like a middle-class mummy reprimanding a naughty child. She even looks the part: swinging ponytail, cropped trousers, moccasins, blue and white striped sailor sweater.
Amber’s breathing is heavy and she rests her weight against Imo. Despite Jane’s barricade, Amber seems to be the one cornered. The perimeter wall is six-foot high, bottom half brick, top half railings. You couldn’t topple by accident, but a humiliated, half-starved Amber might find the determination to climb and jump. Didn’t she tell them she nearly went off the Chadcombe Bridge?
Jane presses the child against her chest. “It’s too cold for Daisy. You need to go, so I can bring her down.” She looks behind her, at the darkening sky. “Before it starts to rain.”
The child’s eyes are wide. She seems to be trying to pull away but Jane holds her still.
The wind stings Tegan’s ears and her hair swirls in front of her face. Her phone vibrates with a text from Phoenix: Lost them. Where are you? She keeps the phone out, unsure. Tell her what’s happening? And Riku – if he’s recovered from Jane’s attack – might come thundering up. There’d be no telling what would happen. But say nothing, and she’s alone with only Imo to help end this nightmare. All colour has drained from Imo’s face and she keeps her eyes dead ahead, away from the perimeter wall, her hand trembling. Tegan remembers Imo’s fear of heights.
“I saved you, Amber,” Jane says. “Why couldn’t you stay saved? Why throw away everything I gave you? Go home. There are other universities. Forget this ever happened.”
Amber sinks deeper into Imo’s shoulder. Stiffly – as if trying to avoid sudden movements – Imo wipes her friend’s tears with the sleeve of her hoodie.
A gust of wind buffets them and Jane has to take half a step backwards. “Go now, Amber, there’s a good girl,” she says, her voice soothing. “You have to leave, before anyone gets hurt.”
Amber hesitates, shivering. Tegan’s finding the cold hard to take, but the emaciated girl must be risking hypothermia. She holds her breath, willing Amber to accept Jane’s words, so they can all get back in the warm building.
After an age, Amber nods weakly and turns towards the rose trellis, still leaning against Imo. Amber’s shoulders are hunched – the stance of a beaten puppy. Tegan feels outraged, but she’ll wait to tell Jane Brown as much when they’re back at ground level. She senses Jane still believes she’s behaving like a normal mum and will bring her daughter safely down once Amber is out of the way.
The wind brings the first spots of rain, hard and icy on Tegan’s face. She turns, mentally shooing Amber and Imo past the trellis. With any luck they can be off the roof before it buckets down.
“Mummy, can we go now?” says a small voice.
Suddenly everything changes.
Chapter 69
Tegan
They spin round to the little sound and see the child’s anxious face gazing up at Jane.
Whether it’s the word Mummy or just hearing the child, something triggers Amber. She stands up straight. “Who’s she speaking to, Cheryl? She’ll always know it’s not you.”
Jane gives a shrug and a smile, probably meant to show Amber’s words don’t hurt, but she holds the child closer. A damp strand of hair has come loose from her ponytail. She brushes it out of her eyes as the rain gets stronger. Her tone rational, she turns to Tegan with a smile. “Bring her home. She needs rest.”
Tegan takes Amber’s arm and prepares to steer her to the exit, but a wave of anger hits her. All she thinks is: how can she let this woman tell her what to do? After everything she has done, after the lives she’s ruined. She’s a psycho not an earth mother.
“Whose fault is it that she needs rest?” she snaps. “We’re only up here because of you.” Her grip on Amber loosens and Amber lunges for Jane. Tegan’s insides churn. What the hell has she done?
Thank God Imo clings on, anchoring Amber by her side as she struggles across the roof towards Jane.
“Why did you do it?” Amber yells. “Why steal my baby?”
For a second, Jane’s face twists with fury. She covers the child’s ears between her hand and her chest.
“You came to me. A snivelling, doped-up little tart. Scared of what Mummy would say. You jumped at the chance I offered you. We had an agreement. You were all for it.”
“I was fourteen.” Amber is still resisting Imo’s grip and edging closer to the bench. She raises an arm to shield her eyes from the icy rain.
“Exactly. I’d longed for a child for years. What did an idiot teenager like you know about motherhood?”
“You knew I’d changed my mind. But you dumped me, three days after giving birth, at the train station in Derbyshire and made me travel home without her. Three days.”
“You’re remembering it all wrong.” Her composure restored, Jane stands the child on her bench. “I’m the one who’s suffered. Always looking over my shoulder. Always having to move on. You’ve been all right for three years, haven’t you? You’ll get over it again.” She says something else, but the fierce wind whips it away and all Tegan can hear are Amber’s sobs. The sounds of the streets below – a siren wailing, a barking dog – and the drumming of rain against the roof.
It comes down harder. Imo adjusts the hood of her sweatshirt and pulls the hoodie she’s lent Amber over her friend’s head, even though she now seems oblivious to the deteriorating weather. Tegan turns up her collar, but it’s useless. The rain pelts the roof garden and bounces up like daggers, sharp and wet against her ankles.
“You can run as many times as you like,” Amber shouts. “But I’ll always find you. I’m the living proof of the lie you live every day of your life. Of her life.” She points at the child. The little girl’s body is shaking and her face is hidden in Jane’s sweater. It looks like she’s sobbing.
“You want proof?” Jane shakes her head dismissively. “Who does she snuggle up to for a bedtime story? Who does she run to when she comes out of crèche? Who does she cry for when her tummy hurts?” She gently turns the child to face them and rests her hands on her shoulders. “This is my daughter, Daisy.” The child’s eyes look red and swollen against her chalk-white skin.
Tegan swallows and texts a reply to Phoenix: Roof.
The dog is still barking. Traffic noise fades behind more sirens and the relentless rain.
“Hush, little baby, don’t you cry.” Jane climbs on the bench beside the child. She starts to murmur a lullaby, stroking her wet hair. Her voice remains calm but her eyes are knives aimed straight at Tegan. “This is your fault. I warned you. Twice. But you didn’t listen.”
The damage to her car. It wasn’t Marlon, or Riku or Phoenix. “You’re deranged,” she shouts, her voice battling against the deluge.
Without warning, Amber throws her weight forward, causing Imo to stagger after her. Tegan grabs Amber’s other arm. Her heart booms, loud-pounding in her ears. She’s not sure she can hold her. Despite her weakened physical state, Amber has the strength of a lioness protecting her young.
Another text comes in. Still clinging onto Amber, Tegan twists her hand to see it, wiping the wet screen with her thumb. Police here. Old man called them. Tegan’s breathing increases. It’s doubtful the police will get up here in time. Amber’s rage will blow at any second.
“What about when Leonie’s older and disobeys you?” Amber shouts. “What then? Lock her in a cellar?”
Jane shakes her head, tone still reasonable, patronizing. “I helped you. For your own good.”
“You helped yourself,” Amber shouts. The sodden shoulders of the sweatshirt press on her fragile frame. “You turned my mother and sister against me. You made me destroy their trust.”
The child stands on the bench and stares down at them blankly. Shivering. Her hair sticks to her scalp in c
oils and her lips are blue with cold. Stay blank, kid, blank. Tegan wills her not to make another sound. If Leonie speaks again, there’s no knowing what Amber will do.
Behind them, the fire exit door clangs open and a moment later a policewoman appears around the rose trellis. Middle-aged, bulky in her stab vest, sensible eyes. Tegan gives a sigh of relief. The first time she’s been pleased to see a cop.
Still balancing on the bench, Jane picks up the child. “We’re fine. Stay where you are. I’ve got this covered,” she says, like one colleague to another. She takes a step towards the table.
“No!” Amber shouts.
Chapter 70
Tegan
Tegan tightens her grip on Amber’s shoulder. Or at least she tries; numb with cold, she can no longer feel her fingers. How high up are they? Fourth floor, no fifth … a thirty-five-foot drop at least. Her throat clogs with fear.
“On the roof,” the policewoman speaks into her crackling radio. She raises her hands in a calming gesture and calls out: “What’s the little girl’s name?”
“Leonie,” Imo says.
“Daisy,” Jane corrects her.
The child bursts into fresh tears.
At a loss, the policewoman looks at Tegan.
“Call her Daisy. The woman is Jane or Cheryl.” The police officer looks more bewildered. “Try both,” Tegan suggests, helping the police with their enquiries. Another first.
“Jane, love, can you come down for me?” The officer edges forward. A solid presence, apparently unmoved by the driving rain and wind. “Daisy’s crying.”
How far is it to the wall? Maybe six feet, Tegan thinks. Could they make it to her in time to stop her from jumping?
Jane lifts the child to her face, as if examining her for signs of distress. She parts her soaking fringe to kiss her forehead.
“Please, Jane … Cheryl?” The officer keeps up eye contact – steady, composed, conflict-trained.
Jane’s hold on the child loosens and it looks as if she’s going to let her slip from her arms onto the bench. Amber sees it too and relaxes under Tegan’s grip.
The Roommates Page 25
