Torn

by Cat Clarke

  ‘Seriously. Now I want to brush my teeth. I don’t want you thinking my breath stinks while you’re all minty fresh.’

  I laugh into his neck. ‘I don’t care, Jack. And you’re not going anywhere.’ I clamber over him so I’m properly on the bed. Then I pat the space next to me and give him what I’m hoping resembles a come-hither glance. Jack shrugs and flings himself onto the bed beside me.

  We kiss for a long time and I start to worry about the time. I have to be back at the house before Dad, and I’ve no idea what time it is now. If something’s going to happen, it had better happen soon. One of us has to make the first move and it looks like it’s going to have to be me.

  I reach down and pull at the bottom of Jack’s T-shirt. Our lips have to part while I pull the fabric up over his head, but it only takes a second. His skin is hot to the touch. I like the way it feels beneath my fingers.

  Jack tugs at my top and I help him out by yanking it over my head. And then we’re skin to skin, with only my bra in the way. The kissing gets faster, hungrier. My heart is galloping as I start working on his belt buckle.

  Jack moans into my mouth. My fingers are unzipping his flies when he pulls away from me, breathing heavily. ‘Can we … stop for a second?’ He zips up and sits up.

  Shit. He’s changed his mind.

  I lie back on the bed and steel myself for the badness that’s coming, but Jack reaches for my hands and hauls me into a sitting position.

  My jeans are digging into my sides and I can’t bear to look down to see how that looks. And I can’t bear to look at Jack, so I concentrate on the door. My escape route.

  Jack keeps hold of my hands. His breathing is slowly getting back to normal, as is mine. ‘Alice, why are you staring at the door?’

  So now I have to look at him. At his messed-up hair, his flushed face, his chocolate-brown eyes. He’s biting his lip.

  Jack squeezes my hands in his. ‘There’s something I want to say. Before we do this.’ I’m slightly reassured by the ‘before’ there. If he still wants to have sex with me, how bad can it be?

  I wait.

  ‘OK, here goes. I think I sort of … maybe … love you a little bit.’

  Something ignites inside my heart.

  ‘Shit, I messed that up. Let me try again. I love you, Alice King.’

  Fireworks explode inside my heart. I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for him to say these words. I feel like I was born to hear him say these words.

  I close my eyes to fend off a wave of dizziness that threatens to overwhelm me.

  ‘Alice, are you all right? You look kind of weird. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out. It’s OK if you … um … don’t feel the same … yet. I just wanted to say it. I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you, or that I sleep with girls all the time or anything. I mean, I haven’t slept with any girls, ever. You know that, right? This is special to me. You’re special to me. I’ve never felt this way before. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’

  ‘Tara didn’t drown.’

  47

  ‘What? Yes, she … What?’ Jack’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

  Why? Why did I say that? Because it’s the right thing to do. Tara’s voice is back inside my head. I look towards the door again. If I leave now, we can pretend this never happened. I’ll call him later and make up some excuse for being such a weirdo. No, you won’t.

  ‘Alice, talk to me. What do you mean?’

  This is it. I am hanging from a cliff by my fingernails. I can try to scrabble back up to safety. Or I can let go and fall.

  I let go. ‘There’s something I need to tell you. It’s serious.’

  Jack goes very still. His hands are still holding mine, but his grip has loosened. It won’t take much to break the bond. ‘About my sister?’

  I nod. ‘Maybe we should get dressed first?’

  ‘Tell me now. Please?’ He squeezes my hands a little too hard. My knuckles crunch together.

  ‘I wanted to tell you. I really did. But I was so scared, and I know how bad it sounds. But you have to understand that it wasn’t like that. It all went wrong.’ Twin tears start trickling down my face.

  ‘Alice, you’re scaring me. Please tell me what you’re talking about.’ He lets go of my hands, as I knew he would. I know we will never hold hands again.

  My jaw’s so tight it feels like my teeth might crush each other and crumble in my mouth. Tell him. Everything.

  I tell him all of it. Everything I missed out when I told him about the holiday. Duncan. Polly’s humiliation in the cave and in the dining hall. The plan to get revenge on Tara. What went wrong. I tell him about Rae’s note in my locker. My conversation with Polly in the media lab.

  I stare at my hands the whole time. I can’t look at him. He doesn’t interrupt me once. I wish he would interrupt so that I can stop talking. There’s just one thing I leave out. One thing I can’t bear to tell him. It shouldn’t be any more horrifying than what I’ve already said. But somehow it is.

  The silence in the room stretches away into infinity. I risk a glance at Jack, hoping he’s not looking at me. He is. His face is hard, unforgiving. He looks like a man. I look away fast. ‘Where is she?’ Ice-cold words.

  ‘Jack, I—’

  ‘Where is she?’ I want to touch him. Some gesture – anything – that will remind him of what we have. What we had.

  ‘You have to understand … we were scared out of our minds. We didn’t know what else to do.’ I’m babbling and stuttering.

  ‘Tell me. Now.’ I flinch.

  ‘There … there was an abandoned well.’ If my voice was any quieter it would be inaudible.

  Jack’s jaw flexes a couple of times. His hands are bunched into fists. ‘A well … ?’ he croaks.

  So now I’ve told him all there is to know. I don’t feel relieved. I don’t feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I feel like I would do anything to take back what I’ve said – to turn back the clock and tell Jack that I love him too. Because that’s the truth.

  Jack gets up from the bed and stalks to the other side of the room. He leans his head into the wall and hits it with his fist – hard. His shoulder blades stick out sharply. It’s as if a pair of wings is lurking under his skin, ready to sprout. It’s hard to believe that I was running my fingers up and down his spine only minutes ago.

  I grab my top and pull it over my head.

  After a couple of minutes and seven more punches to the wall, I have to say something before the silence suffocates me. ‘Jack … say something, please?’

  ‘Don’t talk to me. I can’t listen to you right now.’ His words are clipped, harsh.

  ‘Do you want me to …? Should I go?’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere. Just … stop talking.’ His head is still against the wall. If anyone walked in they might think he was counting to a hundred for a game of hide-and-seek.

  I look at my watch. 9.03.

  Eventually Jack turns away from the wall and lets himself slide down so he’s sitting on the floor. His legs are pulled up against his bare chest. Tears stream down his cheeks and he swipes at them angrily.

  I can’t stay quiet. ‘Jack, I’m so sorry. You have to believe me.’

  He barks an ugly laugh. ‘Believe you? You honestly think I can believe anything that comes out of your mouth?’

  ‘I’m telling the truth. Jack! Please … I love you.’

  ‘Don’t. You killed my sister. You left her to rot in a fucking well.’ His face crumples. ‘My sister. What is the matter with you?’

  ‘It was an accident.’ Pointless words.

  ‘If you say that one more time I swear I’ll …’ Then he lets go and starts sobbing. His shoulders shake and the sound is the second-worst thing I’ve ever heard.

  I can’t help myself. I get up off the bed and go to him. I sit down on the floor in front of him. Tentatively I put my hand on his knee. He flinches a little but doe
sn’t say anything.

  The sobbing subsides after a little while. ‘Why didn’t you tell someone?’ he asks. His voice is thick with tears.

  ‘I wanted to. But we were scared. We didn’t know what would happen to us.’

  ‘You should have told someone.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And Polly could have helped her.’ It’s hard to tell if this is a question or not – his words are so flat.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She hated having asthma, you know? She started having breathing problems a couple of years ago, but she didn’t tell Mum for ages – not till she had a really bad attack. And when she finally got an inhaler, she hardly ever used it. Not at first. She said that only losers had asthma. Ridiculous, really.’

  I feel something in the back pocket of my jeans, digging into me. The ring. It’s been there for two days; I forgot all about it. It’s almost as though it’s waited for this exact moment to make its presence known.

  I lean forward so I can get it out of my pocket.

  My hand trembles as I hold it out for Jack to see.

  48

  Jack plucks the ring from my palm and closes his fist around it. ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘It slipped off her finger.’ There is no need for him to know the exact circumstances.

  ‘You’ve had it all this time? Why didn’t you tell me, Alice? Why did you let me fall in love with you? You should have stayed away.’

  ‘I know. I wanted to, but I liked you so much. I just wanted you not to feel sad any more.’

  He shakes his head. ‘All this time … you lied to me all this time. This whole relationship was based on nothing.’

  ‘That’s not true. I’ve never felt this way about anyone either. I love you, Jack. That’s why I had to tell you.’

  ‘You don’t know anything about love. You’re a stupid, scared little girl.’ He sighs. ‘I suppose I’m meant to be grateful that you’ve finally told me? That you finally had the guts to give the ring back? Well, thanks a lot for killing my sister.’ His normally open features are closed and narrow and hooded. He wants to hurt me. And I can’t blame him. I don’t look away. I deserve to see this.

  Jack rubs his arms and I notice that he’s shivering. I scoot over and grab his T-shirt from the bed. He takes it without a word and pulls it back over his head, inside-out.

  ‘You’re right. There’s no excuse for what I’ve done. It doesn’t matter that it was an accident. We should have gone to the police. I should have gone to the police. Or I should have told you sooner. I should never have let anything happen between you and me. I can say sorry a million times and it will never be enough. But you have to know that my feelings for you were – are – real. If there was anything I could do to make this better, I would.’

  ‘So would I.’ Some of the hatred on his face melts away, unless I’m just imagining the slight softening to his features. He rolls the ring between his fingers.

  ‘Are you going to tell your parents?’

  Jack shakes his head slowly.

  ‘Are you going to tell the police?’

  Another shake of the head.

  ‘But … I don’t get it. Why not?’

  ‘Because you are.’

  Oh. ‘Jack, I can’t. Please don’t make me do this.’

  His eyes burn a hole into my brain. ‘You can. And you will. It’s the right thing to do. And even after all this, I think … I know you’ll do the right thing.’

  That kills me. I’d rather he blackmailed me or threatened me or called the police right this second.

  ‘I have to go. I’m sorry. Dad doesn’t know I’m out.’

  Jack nods and slowly gets to his feet. He holds out his hand to pull me up. I hesitate before taking it.

  We trudge downstairs. The house is too quiet, too dark. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway is the only sound. Jack opens the front door and steps aside to let me pass.

  I turn to face him. His T-shirt is Day-Glo bright in the darkness, his face shadowy. ‘I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry I did this to you.’

  ‘I know.’ For a split second I think he’s going to hug me. But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.

  The driveway gravel crunches under my feet. I turn around and he’s still standing in the doorway. I can’t tell if he’s watching me. All I can make out is the bright white inside-out T-shirt.

  The bus is busy and loud. People are talking to each other, or talking on their phones, or listening to music. How can their lives be so normal when mine is falling apart? Why does no one look at me? Can’t they sense something’s wrong with me?

  I felt the same way after Mum died. I hated being around strangers who didn’t know what had happened. I thought that everyone should know and everyone should behave differently. No one should be allowed to laugh and joke. It didn’t seem right.

  I shouldn’t have told Jack. Polly was right. Jack isn’t any better off for knowing the truth. He’ll never be able to stop picturing what happened. And he’ll never be able to shake the image of his sister lying broken at the bottom of a well.

  Dad finds me sitting on the sofa in the dark, a blanket over my shoulders because I can’t seem to stop shaking. He flicks on the main light and stumbles back into the door. ‘Jesus, Al, you scared me half to death! I thought you were a ghost or something – the Lady of the Green Blanket!’

  He’s drunk. Not completely wasted, but far from sober. He kicks off his shoes and slumps down next to me, reeking of cigarettes and beer. ‘So what are you doing sitting here in the dark? Meditating? Where’s Bruno?’

  I haven’t seen Bruno. I have never once come into this house without Bruno bounding to greet me. Maybe he knows to stay away from me now. Maybe he knows I’m toxic.

  Dad takes a second to look at me properly. Mum would have looked at me like that straightaway. Mothers know instinctively when something is wrong with their daughters. Fathers, it would seem, do not. Especially when they’ve been drinking. ‘Hey, kiddo, what’s up?’

  Every molecule of me is screaming NOTHING! I’M FINE. That’s all I have to say and Dad will turn on the TV to watch Match of the Day. It’s very simple. Three little words. Say them, go to bed. Speak to Jack in the morning. Beg him. Do whatever it takes to make him keep this a secret. Forget this ever happened. Get on with your life. Tara and Rae are dead. Get over it.

  ‘I have to tell you something. It’s bad.’

  ‘OK, shoot.’ He glances towards the clock on the mantelpiece and I can tell he’s itching to switch on the TV. He doesn’t believe that what I’m going to say is truly bad. He thinks it’s going to be I-got-a-D-inan-exam bad, or I-broke-your-favourite-mug bad. He has no idea. I am going to break him.

  49

  He listens quietly for the most part. He tries to interrupt a couple of times but I beg him to let me finish. I watch his transformation from relaxed and tipsy to worried and tense. By the time I’ve finished, he’s sitting on the edge of the sofa with his head in his hands.

  ‘Dad? Say something, please?’ I sound like a scared, stupid little girl. Just like Jack said.

  ‘Let me … I’m thinking.’

  ‘Dad? It’s going to be OK, isn’t it?’ I start to cry. I really didn’t want to cry, but I suppose it was inevitable.

  He says nothing for a moment or two, then jumps up from the sofa and starts to pace. He always says his brain works better when it’s on the move. I count thirteen trips from one end of the room to the other before he speaks. ‘OK, Alice, I don’t want you to worry about this any more. You made a mistake – you all made a terrible mistake. But that’s what it was – a mistake. You didn’t mean any harm.’ Apart from Polly. I didn’t tell him what I know about Polly. I’m not sure why.

  My tears have settled into the occasional sniffle. ‘I’m going to call the police. DI Marshall said we should contact him if we had any information.’

  Dad’s head snaps towards me. ‘No!’

  ‘I have to, Dad. You know
I do.’

  He kneels on the floor in front of me, grasping my hands in his. His hands are sweaty. ‘No, Alice, you don’t. I don’t know much about this sort of thing, but I don’t think it’ll just be a slap on the wrist for something this serious. It’s manslaughter, Al. Someone is dead. Two people, if you count Rae. You’re sixteen years old – you’d go to prison. And I am not going to let that happen.’ His face is fierce, but the fierceness isn’t aimed at me.

  ‘But think about her family – never knowing the truth. It’s not fair.’

  ‘I don’t care about her family! I care about you. You’re all I’ve got, Alice.’ He starts to cry and I can’t watch. When Mum died he was careful not to cry around me. I’d often come into a room and find him sitting there, red-eyed. He would cough and mutter something about contact lenses, and I’d say nothing. It was better that way for both of us.

  ‘Please don’t cry. I have to do this. What if it was me? What if I was the one who died? You’d do anything to make sure I had a proper burial, wouldn’t you? A proper resting place where you could visit and bring flowers. Like we do for Mum.’

  He sobs, but I can tell he’s trying to pull himself together. Trying to be the strong one like he’s always been. ‘If it was you, I wouldn’t want to know that you’d been lying at the bottom of a well all that time. It would kill me to know that.’

  He’s right. But so am I. ‘Mum would agree with me.’ It’s a low blow, but it’s all I’ve got.

  Dad shakes his head fervently. ‘You’re wrong. Your mother would do anything to protect you, just like I would. I promised her I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you.’

  ‘That’s not a promise you could ever have kept. You’ve done everything right, but you could never have stopped this from happening. You do understand that, don’t you?’

  He hangs his head and I know that he blames himself for this. That somehow I wouldn’t be in this predicament if only he’d been a better father. Or that this wouldn’t have happened if Mum was still alive. Nothing I can say will make him think any different. His shoulders are slumped. ‘I can’t lose you, Alice.’