‘Good thanks,’ I lied, my voice strained. Aaron’s fists were clenching clenching clenching because Max’s hand had found my hair, twirling a strand between his fingers.
‘You soppy thing,’ Sandra laughed, tapping Max’s shoulder and beaming with pride as her youngest son gazed at me with all this affection that was more vodka than anything, not that Sandra realised it.
There wasn’t much oxygen because of the panic or the humidity and I had to work hard to suck air into my lungs. A silver balloon bobbed above the crowd and moved towards us as Fiona appeared with the blue string tied round her hand, her camera dangling from her neck.
‘Zoe!’ she cried, running towards me in a flowery dress. ‘You haven’t been to our house for ages,’ she sulked.
‘Every time I ask, she’s busy,’ Max muttered.
‘You must come over more often,’ Sandra said, dabbing her forehead with a tissue as the sun sank below the horizon, turning the sky into that inky sort of blue that comes before the black. ‘You’re welcome any time, lovey.’ Aaron’s cheek sucked between his back teeth, white grinding on red.
‘Take a picture of us,’ Max said, prodding Fiona’s tummy with his finger.
‘Ow!’
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘All three of us!’ He pulled me and Aaron into a space away from the crowd, forcing me into the middle. Fiona fiddled with the settings as Aaron’s arm snaked around my back, his hand squeezing my hip as we glanced at each other with blazing eyes, and Stu they were bursting with all the things we couldn’t say and all the feelings we weren’t supposed to have and I ached for him – for his voice and his smell and his touch and his taste and his . . .
‘SMILE!’ Fiona shouted so I turned on a big grin that disappeared with the zap of the flash.
At the other side of the dodgems, Lauren waved at me to say she was disappearing with the boy in the year above. Black clouds had appeared above the woods near the river, heat pressing down pressing down pressing down.
‘There’s going to be a storm,’ Sandra frowned, rubbing her temples, and sure enough a jagged stripe of silver cut through the dense air, tearing the sky in two. ‘I’m going to get off,’ she said quickly. ‘You lot can get wet if you like but I’m taking Fiona home.’
‘No,’ Fiona groaned, stamping her foot. ‘I haven’t been on the ghost train yet!’
‘Tough,’ Sandra said as pt pt pt the first drops of rain splattered the ground. Pulling a jacket out of her bag, Sandra told Max and Aaron that she would pick them up in a couple of hours and Stu it hurts to remember how casually she said this, as if there was just no question that the brothers would be waiting at the hot-dog van at 11.30pm. She hurried off, distracted by the rain, without stopping to kiss her sons.
And then there were three.
Lightning flashed as if the tension between us was exploding in the sky. Max picked up the bottle of vodka Jack had left on the bench.
‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’ Aaron said but Max’s mouth bulged and his throat contracted as he gulped down the clear liquid. He smacked his lips apart.
‘I’m celebrating!’ He lifted the bottle over his head then stumbled off through the crowd, calling over his shoulder, ‘Just celebrating the wedding!’ Aaron and I exchanged a worried look and even though it was wrong we smiled a bit too. ‘Fiona had the right idea,’ Max said, suddenly spinning around. Our grins vanished just in time. ‘Let’s go on the ghost train!’
BANG!
Thunder!
People screamed as the rain doubled in force, pelting out of the sky. Umbrellas shot into the air. Everyone dived for cover underneath roofs dripping with water. Only Max charged through the downpour, slipping and sliding on the mud as he joined the shrinking queue at the ghost train. Shielding my eyes from the rain, I followed, struggling to keep up with Aaron.
‘This is ridiculous!’ I shouted at Max as he swigged the vodka again and again. ‘We need to find somewhere to go inside!’
‘That’s inside!’ he yelled, pointing at the ghost train and gulping back more drink. Aaron tried to take the bottle but Max shoved him, harder than he intended, the heel of his hand smacking Aaron’s shoulder.
‘Easy, Max.’
‘Easy, Max,’ his brother mocked, knocking back another mouthful as we reached the front of the queue. Shoving the bottle down the back of his jeans, Max leapt into the carriage, disappearing through purple doors as a ghost wailed.
And then there were two.
‘We can’t tell him tonight!’ I exclaimed, my hair dripping wet as rain beat down from the jet black sky. ‘He’s totally out of it!’
‘I know! We’ll wait. Tomorrow though,’ Aaron said and our hands touched for the slightest moment as Max’s carriage shot out of an arch on the upper level. Our fingers broke apart as Max waved madly, hurtling through the gaping mouth of a huge ghost painted on the opposite side of the ride. It was my turn next so Aaron helped me into my carriage. Off I went, following Max with Aaron just behind, through tunnels that spun, under spider webs that tickled my face, past monsters that roared and coffins that opened, the wheels of the carriage clacking on the metal track.
‘I feel sick,’ Max moaned as I climbed out of my carriage into the rain, shivering now, my blue dress stuck to my skin. ‘You look amazing,’ he said, his words slurring badly. Gently, he brushed my wet fringe to one side then his face drained of colour. ‘I’m going to throw up.’ He bent over, his head dangling above a puddle. I put my hand on his back. ‘Don’t,’ he muttered. ‘Leave me. I need to be alone.’
‘There’s a bin over there,’ I said, pointing.
‘I need to be alone,’ Max repeated, stumbling towards the woods as Aaron’s carriage sped out of the ghost train.
I pointed at the trees to tell Aaron where I was heading so I could follow Max, worried about him falling as he walked then ran away from the fair, unsteady on his legs. Squinting in the darkness, I hurried away from the crowds, going deeper and deeper into the woods, mud squelching beneath my feet. I didn’t know if Aaron was behind me but I could see Max in front, tripping over a trunk to land on the grass.
It can’t have hurt, but Max didn’t get up. Rain dripped through branches. The noise of the fair was muffled by the gushing of a river I couldn’t see. I dropped to my knees at Max’s side.
‘Go away,’ he said and I realised with dismay that he was crying. ‘I’m celebrating, Zo. Celebrating!’ Gently, I put my fingers on his head and it seemed to calm him. Slowly, he turned to look at me, sweat and mud and tears mingling on his cheeks. He sat up suddenly, forcing his lips on mine.
‘Don’t,’ I said, scrambling to my feet, unable to control my reaction.
‘Why not?’ Max slurred, wiping his face with his sleeve. He jumped up to kiss me again, clutching my arms. ‘Don’t be shy, Zo.’ Straining my neck to look over Max’s shoulder I saw nothing but trees, the lights of the fair this tiny speck of colour in the distance. I’d come further than I’d realised.
‘I don’t want to,’ I said as Max slurped at my neck, his breath quivering against my skin.
‘You’re my girlfriend,’ he whispered and the guilt was so strong my legs almost gave way. ‘Come on . . .’ His mouth was on mine before I could stop it, his hands grabbing my bum before darting to the front to push inside my knickers.
‘Stop it,’ I said, struggling to get free. Max laughed, tickling my sides then under my arms then touching my breasts, not hard, more pathetically than anything, but my heart was pounding. ‘Seriously, Max. I don’t want to.’
‘You’ll enjoy it,’ he crooned, moving his fingers all over my body as I squirmed, biting my bottom lip, desperate not to hurt his feelings but Stu he was scaring me, pulling at the strap of my dress as I shook my head. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he asked, sounding annoyed now, and he grabbed both straps and tore them down. ‘You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?’ he yelled and that’s when I pushed him away and took off, unable to stand it a second longer.
�
�Zoe!’ Max called, his voice bouncing off the trees as I ran back towards the fair. ‘Zoe! I’m sorry. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just want to be near you!’
I turned to see him sink to his knees with his head in his hands and I pushed forward, frightened and exhausted and sick to death of pretending. Panting, I stumbled towards Aaron who had entered the woods.
‘Hey,’ he said, his voice full of concern. ‘What’s the matter? Zo? What is it?’
‘Max,’ I gasped, shaking as I fell into his arms. ‘He’s . . . he’s . . .’
‘He’s what?’ Aaron asked, holding my face in his hands, kissing me with all the desperation that we both felt, giving in for a frantic second because it was dark, so dark, and we were hidden under the trees.
But then a twig snapped.
We spun round to see the back of Max’s head, hurtling into the woods. For a moment, neither of us moved and then we leapt apart, horrified, calling out his name, chasing after him, the sound of gushing water getting louder and louder as we pushed past branches and tore at leaves and slipped on the mossy ground. The river appeared as the trees gave way to a stony path and I skidded to a halt, looking all around, my lungs on fire. Max was stumbling along it, losing his footing again and again, his feet dangerously close to the surging water.
‘MAX!’ Aaron yelled, his hands on either side of his mouth. ‘MAX!’
If Max heard, he gave no sign of it. I turned to Aaron, my face white, my eyes huge and terrified.
‘He saw us! He knows! What are we going to—’
But Aaron had sped off again, struggling to run in his flip-flops as they flicked mud up the back of his jeans. ‘MAX!’ he called again. ‘MAX!’
Max stopped abruptly, his attention caught by a wooden bench. Roaring in anger he picked up a stone and I realised with a sickening jolt what he’d seen – our initials, Stu, scratched into the wood. Raising the stone above his head, he dived at the bench, and just as he was about to attack our names, Aaron seized his arm.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry!’
My feet splashed through puddles as the black river swirled, and both boys turned to look at me.
‘What’s going on!’ Max roared, throwing the stone against the bench. ‘What the F is going on!’
‘We . . . We. . .’ I stuttered, my hands clawing at my hair.
‘We’re . . .’ Aaron started.
‘You’re WHAT?’ Max yelled, tears falling down his face. ‘What’s going on? TELL ME THE TRUTH!’
Aaron held up his hands. ‘Calm down,’ he breathed. ‘Calm down! We’ll talk about this when you’ve sobered up and everyone’s—’
‘Don’t tell me what to do!’ Max bellowed, slapping Aaron’s hand away. ‘You bastard!’ Aaron sank onto the bench. ‘You’re all I’ve got!’ Max said, his voice choked. He tripped over nothing, almost falling onto Aaron’s lap. ‘And you,’ he growled, rounding on me, his movements huge and lurching as he swiped an arm through the air. ‘I trusted you. I liked you!’
‘I liked you too! I swear . . . I never meant for any of this to happen.’ I tried to put my hands on his waist to comfort him but he pushed me away and I stumbled towards the river.
‘Don’t talk to me, you slag!’
Aaron shot to his feet. ‘Don’t call her that!’
Laughing crazily now, Max hurtled towards me. The black water churned half a metre from where we stood. Grabbing my shoulder, he pulled me upright to shout in my ear.
‘SLAG!’
‘Stop!’ Aaron yelled. ‘Leave her out of this!’
‘Don’t tell me what to do!’ Max screamed again as thunder exploded in the sky. He gripped the straps of my blue dress with desperate fingers and we wobbled closer to the river.
‘Let her go!’ Aaron bellowed and when Max didn’t obey, he charged at his brother. They came together with an almighty roar, gripping each other as their feet slipped on the mud.
‘You’re too near the edge!’ I cried but they weren’t listening and somehow I got in the middle, trying to break them up as they grasped each other’s clothes, shoving and pushing and screaming underneath the trees as the rain pelted down.
‘You SLAG!’ Max bellowed, spit hitting my skin as he grabbed my hair and roared the word in my face and Stu I pushed him hard as Aaron did too. A split-second impulse. Anything to make him stop.
His feet skidded down the wet bank. The slippery slope.
His arms propelled madly in the air.
And the water splashed as his body fell in, his mouth opening at the first shock of cold.
‘Get him!’ I screamed. ‘Aaron! Grab him!’
Paralysed to the spot, I watched Aaron drop onto his chest and hold out his hand as the strong current grabbed Max’s legs, swirling and powerful, impossible to fight. As if in slow motion, I saw Max go under – once, twice – his body sweeping down the river as Aaron scrambled along the bank, gasping and shouting, stretching out his arm.
Max couldn’t reach it. The river was too strong. Struggling to swim against the current, his muscles went limp and he floated past tree roots and branches and an orange safety ring on the other side of the river that none of us could reach. He went under again, and again and again, getting weaker and weaker, his mouth sucking in water as he struggled to kick himself above the surface.
Aaron stretched out one last time, shouting his brother’s name. Max lifted a weak arm into the air as his body gave up the fight.
His head sank.
His elbow too.
Wrist.
Hand.
The disappearing hand – pale and rigid and grasping at nothing – vanished under the black water.
The first time we lied was to the operator on the other end of the phone. Aaron dialled 999 and even though he was shaking and sobbing, he didn’t mention the argument or the kiss or our push.
‘He slipped,’ Aaron said, sitting on the bench, his body shaking violently. ‘He was drunk.’ I gazed at him as he hung up, unable to protest because my voice wouldn’t work. Curled up in a ball on the side of the river, I started to rock and I didn’t stop until somehow Mum and Dad appeared at my side and a police officer threw a blanket over my shoulders as Sandra screamed into the night.
The next few hours were a blur of questions in a grey station that smelt of photocopiers and sandwiches and coffee. In a small room on a hard chair, I just kept saying the same thing over and over again, latching onto Aaron’s words. Max slipped. He was drunk. He slipped. He was drunk. At some point the police officer must have believed me because he told me I was free to go home.
Only it wasn’t home. It was a building I didn’t recognise with a family that felt like a group of strangers. My room wasn’t my room, and my bed wasn’t my bed, because I wasn’t me. I was someone else, a stranger that my parents didn’t know. A cheat. A liar. A killer. I lay under my duvet that smelt of a life I’d lost, and looked at my hands, blinking in shock.
I ended up in the bath the next morning. Mum ran it for me. She put this salt stuff in the water that was supposed to be good for trauma. I’d never had a bath at 10am before. It felt odd. Too light in the bathroom. Sun shone through the window and dust motes swirled above the laundry basket. Water dripped from the hot tap and I put my toe in the hole but I couldn’t feel it burn.
That afternoon, Dad came into my room.
‘The boy’s mum invited you over, pet. Sandra, I think her name is.’
I started to count.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
‘The rest of Max’s family is there,’ Dad said, sitting on my bed. ‘I think it’s important that you see them.’
Six. Seven. Eight.
‘Pet, are you listening?’
‘Yes.’
‘What do you think?’
‘About what?’ I muttered.
Dad’s face clouded over and he held my hand. ‘Going to Max’s house? I’ll come with you if you like. It might help to be around other people.’
‘Anyway. I’ll leave it with you,’ Dad said, standing up as I stared at the ceiling, my face completely still.
I watched a neighbour mow his lawn and plant six shrubs. I watched a man paint his windows and his front door. I watched a dog go for a walk and come back carrying a stick.
Next morning Mum came into my room and told me I had a temperature. She said my glands were swollen and told me to open my mouth, shining a torch down my throat as I said, ‘Aaaaaaaaah’. She turned off the beam and told me I could stop, but I kept on saying it louder and louder
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhh
‘Has Zoe gone mental?’ Dot signed.
My mouth snapped closed.
‘No,’ Mum said. ‘She’s just upset.’
Dot looked at me warily. ‘I don’t do that when I’m upset.’
‘It’s a very big upset,’ Mum explained. ‘Bigger than you’ve had before.’
‘Because of the boyfriend?’
‘Yes.’
‘I didn’t know she had one of those,’ Dot signed.
‘Me neither, my love. Not really. But I do know he made her happy.’ Mum stroked my forehead as Aaron’s name burned on my lips. The heat of it turned my cheeks scarlet and Stu in that moment I wanted Mum to ask what was wrong, but she just moved her thumb over my eyebrow, muttering, ‘She glowed when I picked her up from the library.’
‘Why did he drown?’ Dot asked.
Mum glanced at me before replying. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Because if he could swim then he why did he sink? And I also have another question.’
‘That’s enough now.’
‘Can I have the day off school as well?’
More days passed in pretty much the same blur. Mum brought food. Dad provided endless cups of tea. By the time Dot got home from school one afternoon later that week, I had six mugs lined up on my bedside table, full of different amounts of liquid. I tapped them all with a pen to make music.
Ketchup Clouds Page 18
