Safe With Me

by K. L. Slater

  Where had kind, understanding Liam gone? She was talking to a stranger. Even his voice sounded different.

  He lit another match. And then another.

  Her stomach fluttered when she remembered she was alone until her mum returned from work after midnight. She wished he’d just go. She should get rid of him.

  ‘I’m so tired.’ She gave an exaggerated yawn and tried to sound casual. ‘I’m going to have an early night. I can pop over tomorrow, if you like?’

  She was exhausted and just wanted him to leave.

  Suddenly his face changed, as if someone had flicked a switch inside his head. The hard expression dissolved into a childish pout.

  ‘I didn’t mean to hurt them,’ he said. ‘It was the fire, it just went up. It was out of control, and there was nothing I could do.’

  ‘We can talk about it tomorrow.’ She guided him to the door. ‘Everything will look better in the morning.’

  She closed and locked the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief.

  What the hell was he talking about? Who had he hurt, and when had there been a fire? It didn’t make any sense. Ivy said his dad and sister had died in an accident. Carla had assumed a road accident.

  She walked across the kitchen and looked back just before she turned off the lights. Her eyes were drawn to the worktop.

  There were dozens of spent matches littering the countertop.

  Chapter 72

  Anna

  When I get back home from giving Carla Bevin what for in the street, I don’t feel sleepy at all. I feel energised and powerful.

  I feel like I am back in control, that I can do anything.

  I pop upstairs and pull a few clean clothes together. Tonight I am going to stay over at Liam’s for the first time whether mad old Ivy likes it or not.

  I do what I think is right now; I don’t give a toss what other people say.

  But this smell. This smell just won’t do but it will not beat me.

  Starting in the kitchen, I rip out drawers, piling the contents on the floor. I sweep the shelves of the cupboards clean of their contents. When I find a claw hammer in one drawer, I use it to force the fronts from the mock drawer and corner cupboard.

  I move on to the middle room and then the lounge, emptying, wrenching, ripping – it has to be somewhere. Wherever that stink is, I’m going to find it.

  I see Albert slipping out of the back door, and I realise I haven’t closed and locked it yet.

  My head is spinning and my stomach is growling. I remember that I haven’t eaten anything all day but there’ll be plenty of time for that later.

  When I finish in the living room I stomp upstairs. The house seems to be swaying around me, the walls of each room burgeoning out and then shrinking back again.

  At the top of the stairs I sit down on the top step to take a breath. I can’t think straight, can’t fight through the pictures swarming in my head. Faces looming close and then fading away again. Liam, Carla. . . Danny.

  ‘Anna—’

  My breath catches in my throat. I heard my name, I’m sure. . . the faintest whisper.

  The world stops turning, and I listen.

  Nothing.

  Did I really hear it or was it a noise from outside? The voice, it sounded just like Danny’s. I sit for a full five minutes listening for anything else, anything at all. But silence prevails.

  Something moves at the bottom of the landing and I jump up, my throat tight and parched.

  ‘Albert?’ I call faintly.

  But it isn’t Albert at all.

  I recognise the distinct ginger markings and large white paws. It is Boris, Ivy’s cat.

  A tangle of awful possibilities presents themselves. Have I brought Boris back to the house with me by mistake?

  I can’t remember taking him; I wouldn’t have. A cat needs his security, his home patch. Did Liam ask me to look after Boris?

  I close my eyes and fight the queasiness pulsing in my stomach.

  I had called back to the house because I wanted to get freshened up before racing over to Liam’s to tell him what Carla Bevin did to Danny, so that he understands why I hate her so much and why she is a threat to our happiness as a family.

  I feel angry I’ve let myself become distracted with finding the smell, and now there is the problem of Boris.

  I have to somehow get the cat back to Liam’s house without being discovered. Nobody will believe I had nothing to do with his abduction.

  If I can only rest, sleep properly for a little while, my mind might straighten itself out and I will remember how the cat has managed to end up here.

  A loud thudding noise on the wall puts an end to my thoughts. It is coming from next door. But I haven’t got the time to go round to Mrs Peat’s now.

  I look down at the tangle of hair in my fingers; I don’t even feel myself pulling at it any more. I shake it off and walk back downstairs, holding on to the walls for support.

  By the time I get back in the kitchen I feel guilty. I slip on my shoes and rush next door.

  I peer through the small side window and gasp. My hand flies up to my mouth, and in a whirl of confusion I trip, skinning my knee. The milk-bottle stand is on its side, and the key is missing. I try the door handle and it swings open.

  It is quiet and still inside, even more so than usual. Mrs Peat does not call out.

  She sits in her chair, her mouth slightly open. There is a clot of mangled skin and thick blood at her temple.

  I cry out and touch her face, and then snatch my hand back when she blinks.

  I think about the last time I saw her, how irritated I was with her.

  How I felt confused and disorientated.

  How Boris somehow found his way into my house without me remembering what happened.

  Maybe Mrs Peat tripped and fell.

  Something in my stomach shifts and I rush to the kitchen sink and throw up. I could never hurt Mrs Peat but someone else might have.

  I have to call the police; I have to do it now.

  I run back round to my house, snatch up my phone and call an ambulance. I ignore what she is saying to me and talk over her, repeating Mrs Peat’s name and full address three times.

  The operator is asking me what is wrong with Mrs Peat but I don’t know what to tell her. The police might trace the call and put me in a cell and that can’t be allowed to happen because I still have to tell Liam who Amanda Danson really is.

  I end the call.

  It is time to tell Liam everything.

  Chapter 73

  An ambulance sits outside Liam’s house and a paramedic closes the back doors before getting into the vehicle. I watch it drive away.

  My heart hammers at my chest and my throat is pulsing. Has Danny fallen or taken a bad turn?

  No, not Danny. This is Liam’s house.

  Yes, Liam.

  I jump out of the car and run across the road, straight down the path and round to the back door.

  Liam is helping Ivy take off her coat. She clutches a bag of medication. The ambulance hasn’t taken her away but has just dropped her back at home.

  I feel quiet and shaky inside when I think about Mrs Peat. I don’t think I should have just left her there alone like that with the door unlocked.

  But I had to come here. I need to speak to Liam but there’s something else I must do when I get the chance. Something really important.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Liam’s voice is shrill. ‘I called round at your house earlier.’

  ‘You must have just missed me,’ I say, watching him.

  ‘Stay there while I get Gran settled,’ he says but I follow them into the hallway. ‘We’ve got to go in a minute or we’ll miss your appointment.’

  My appointment with the solicitor.

  I completely forgot about it.

  ‘I’ll rearrange it,’ I say, glancing at the wall clock and seeing there’s only fifteen minutes to spare.

  ‘No!’

  I look at him
, startled by him snapping.

  ‘No, Anna,’ he says more calmly. ‘This is important for you. I’m worried about your job situation, about them taking what you have.’

  ‘They can’t do anything,’ I shrug. ‘They found nothing in the search.’

  ‘Still, I think we should—’

  The back door flies open and Carla Bevin appears, urgent and breathless. There is a bruise on her jaw, and her arm is in a sling.

  ‘Anna, you need to leave this house right away,’ she says from behind me. Her voice is shaky, and she stays back at the door.

  I ignore her. ‘Liam, I need to tell you all about her, about what she did.’

  ‘Please, just stop,’ Liam cries out. He clutches at his head.

  For a few seconds there is a shocked silence. Then Ivy speaks in a tired, beaten voice.

  ‘We’ve lost the cat but Liam can’t get out and look for him. He’s been having headaches you see,’ she says softly. ‘Haven’t you, lad?’

  Liam shakes his head.

  ‘It’s just silly little things stored up in here.’ He taps his head, grinning wildly. ‘Nothing important.’

  ‘I need to rest,’ sighs Ivy, shuffling towards the stairs. ‘I’m going for a lie down but I don’t want to stay up here all night. Hear that, Liam?’

  ‘Ivy, I don’t think you’re well enough to go upstairs on your own,’ Carla says.

  Very clever. Playing the concerned friend.

  ‘Anna and I have an appointment,’ Liam says. ‘We have to go.’

  ‘Go where?’ Carla asks.

  ‘To the solicitors,’ I speak up, smirking at her concerned expression. ‘Liam is taking charge of all my personal affairs.’

  Carla looks at him. ‘Liam?’

  My heart soars when Liam turns away from her and says, ‘this is just between me and Anna.’

  ‘Is it to do with you paying off the debt?’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ I snap. ‘Come on, Liam, let’s go. I can tell you everything you need to know about her on the way.’

  ‘Anna, don’t do anything rash with your finances.’ Carla turns to face me, actually touching my arm. ‘I really need to speak to you in private for a few minutes; it’s in your own interest.’

  I push her hard and get in close to her face, ignoring her yelp of pain as the arm in a sling bangs against the wall.

  ‘So you can get your story in first? Don’t you dare try and say you care about me or Liam. Why don’t you just tell him right now who you really are?’

  Not surprisingly she isn’t forthcoming with any information about herself.

  ‘Anna, I told you, you’ve got it wrong—’

  I take a deep breath and turn to Liam.

  ‘Her name is Carla Bevin and she caused the death of my brother thirteen years ago.’

  She looks straight at me, holding her injured arm protectively. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Anna, but you’re mistaken. I’m not Carla, and she didn’t kill Daniel, she – well, she made a terrible mistake.’

  My head throbs with a dull ache, and I feel like I’m filled to the brim with sludge.

  I want to slap her hard, discount her lies, but something about her words, her face, somehow rings true. It sucks the fire right out of me.

  Liam doesn’t react at all, doesn’t even look at us.

  He turns and walks into the living room. I follow and watch as he sits down with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth.

  Carla fusses over Ivy, helping her off with her coat with one arm. Something is very wrong here, something doesn’t fit.

  I realise this is my chance.

  ‘I have to use the bathroom,’ I say calmly but nobody replies.

  A couple of minutes later I’m in Ivy’s bedroom, rifling in the wardrobe until I have the shoebox in my hands. There on the top lies the psychological report.

  I unfold it and sit on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Anna?’ I hear Liam shouting to me. I haven’t got much time.

  I scan down the report. I haven’t got the luxury of reading every word but I take a little more time than before so I can scan each line.

  And there it is. The missing piece that I missed the first time around. The piece that makes sense of it all.

  ‘The patient’s guardian, Ivy Wilton, gives permission for her charge, Liam Wilton, to continue with his treatment at the clinic. . .’

  ‘Anna come down, we have to go,’ Liam bellows.

  I flip to Ivy’s signature at the bottom of the report.

  ‘Signed below on behalf of the juvenile patient, Liam Bradbury. . .’

  This report was never about Ivy. It was Liam’s all along.

  Back downstairs, I sit next to Liam. I feel light-headed as if I’m standing back and watching a different person. All the signs are there; I don’t know how I missed them.

  Liam is fidgeting and chewing his stubby nails.

  ‘We have to go, we have to go,’ he mumbles to himself.

  I can hear Carla speaking to Ivy in the kitchen but she suddenly appears in the doorway and walks over to where we are sitting.

  ‘Talk to me,’ Carla says to him. ‘Tell me the truth, Liam. Are you remembering stuff. . . important stuff? Your gran told me you had financial problems before the accident, do you remember?’

  ‘What?’ I say faintly.

  ‘He took a loan out from a local loan shark. He didn’t want you to know. That’s why she didn’t let you stay at the house.’

  Liam jumps up and grabs my arm then, and Carla steps back in surprise. Every inch of my skin prickles.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  He’s acting so strangely, continually flipping tracks. The report is from long ago and people can get better but the accident. . . it must have unhinged him.

  ‘Ivy told me about the fire, Liam,’ Carla says. ‘And how she changed your names so nobody knew.’

  He reaches for the door handle but stops dead in his tracks.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ His voice is soft and low. His eyes are wide open but glazed, as if he’s looking at something far away.

  ‘Fire?’ I say faintly but nobody answers.

  ‘Are the memories coming back?’ Carla says. ‘You’ve not been yourself the last day or so. Do you want to talk about it?’

  Liam stops walking and shrugs off her hand.

  ‘I haven’t got a clue what you’re going on about,’ he says, seeming to gather his wits again.

  ‘Your gran told me about what happened,’ she says. ‘About the house fire when you were a boy, your dad and sister. . . you need help to talk about it—’

  ‘She’s lying!’ he explodes. ‘She’s old and losing her mind, nothing like that happened.’

  A noise at the top of the stairs makes us all look up. Ivy stands shaking and frail, holding on to the banister for support.

  ‘Liam, it’s time to talk to someone; they can’t do anything, you were too young. I’ve tried to cover it up all these years but I’ve been wrong. You need help with your mind, you’re—’

  ‘You’re crazy,’ he shouts, his eyes darting over all of us. ‘You’re all crazy.’

  He starts to climb the stairs faster than he ought to after an accident, his pain eclipsed by fury.

  ‘Gran has got dementia. She’s going to have to go into a home.’

  ‘Liam, I can help you. We can talk.’

  Halfway up the stairs, he turns and shoots me a vicious look.

  ‘You’re the craziest one of all, Anna. All that stuff you’ve done to Amanda, sending slanderous posters to her work, making anonymous complaints about her.’

  ‘What are you talking about? I never did that.’

  ‘Anna, you might as well admit it. You did,’ she says quietly.

  ‘I made some prank calls to your phone, and I had the manure delivered. I admit that was me, you deserved it.’

  ‘So if it wasn’t you, who did the other stuff?’ Amanda snaps.

  Liam begin
s to emit a curious high-pitched laughter. ‘You fucking stupid pair, who do you think did it?’

  I press my hand against the wall to steady myself. Has his affection for me been nothing but an act? I start up the stairs, reaching out to touch him.

  But Ivy’s voice pierces my thoughts.

  ‘It’s all here, Liam.’ In her free hand she clutches newspaper cuttings like those in the box in the wardrobe. She shakes them in the air, tears rolling down the soft, pale folds of her cheeks. ‘You can’t just pretend it never happened.’

  ‘No!’

  Nearly at the top of the stairs now, Liam lunges up towards the sheets of newspaper.

  I’m not really sure what happens next.

  Chapter 74

  Absolute silence blankets everything. There is an invisible thickening of the air.

  Ivy releases a terrible yelp and then she is tumbling, arms flailing out before her, wildly grasping at nothing. The scene freeze-frames before me and then speeds up again.

  Ivy crashes and bounces off each step, plummeting past me, only stopping with a sickening thud when she reaches the wall at the bottom of the stairs.

  I lose my footing and hear Carla scream out as I start to pitch down the stairs myself. I manage to break my fall by grasping the banister but still end up in a heap on the floor, right next to Ivy.

  Silence.

  The soft flutter of bits of newspaper floating down the stairs to rest on the bottom steps. I glance down at the headline.

  ‘Father and daughter die in suspected arson attack’

  ‘Ivy.’ Carla bends down over the old woman, rubbing her shoulder. ‘Can you hear me?’

  Liam limps back downstairs, grimacing now with the effort of the climb. His cheeks burn red, eyes badly bloodshot. He begins to gather up the scattered newspaper articles.

  Carla wails, backing away from Ivy.

  I move closer and follow her gaze. I can’t see the old woman’s face but her head is bathed in a sticky, ruby thickness that continues to ooze on to the wooden floor.

  I look down at my own splayed hand and recoil at the awful splatters of her blood on my own skin.