The Story of Us

by Barbara Elsborg

  Caspian panted heavily as he ran. This wasn’t the way he’d envisaged leaving home. Just as well he wasn’t carrying his bag. He would have liked his clothes, but he could buy more. He’d been saving for ages, taking small amounts from his bank account in case his father found a way of blocking his access. He and Zed needed to disappear and leave no trace.

  As he approached the first road, he was careful. He waited and listened before he bolted across. The second road was more of a problem. He could see a man in a tractor in the field he needed to cross. It just so happened to be Giles Forman, the one whose crop he and Zed had…re-arranged. Caspian decided to head down the road and cut in a few fields down.

  But he’d hardly run more than a few metres before he heard the familiar throaty purr of a car coming up behind him. He groaned and slowed down. When Lachlan pulled in ahead of him in their father’s classic Jaguar, Caspian stopped.

  Lachlan opened his door and leaned out. “Get in.”

  Caspian walked up to the car. “Take me to Sandiford station. Please. Let me at least talk to him.” He was going to do more than talk. He was going to get on the train.

  “Get the fuck in the car.”

  “Please, Lachlan.” There was more chance if he pleaded than if he argued.

  “Get in.”

  “Take me to the station.”

  “Okay, but get the fuck in.”

  Caspian climbed in, dropped his jacket in the footwell, and clicked on the seatbelt. Lachlan accelerated down the road and Caspian gripped the sides of his seat.

  “Does Dad know you’ve taken his car?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “Sure you’re not over the limit?”

  Lachlan glanced at him. “What?”

  “You’re either still drunk or stoned from whatever you were doing last night. I’ll tell him unless you take me to the station.”

  “You little shit.” Lachlan glared at him.

  “Yes I am. You owe this to me after outing me. Take me to the station.”

  “Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, you retard.”

  Lachlan took the corner far too fast and the car skidded.

  “Slow down, you idiot!”

  But Lachlan accelerated and there was another bend ahead. As Caspian registered people in the road he shouted, “Look out!”

  It was too late. There was a sickening crunch as the vehicle hit them. Caspian was thrown against the door and his world blinked out.

  Zed bought two open singles to London, then waited on the platform. He’d thought Caspian would make the next train but he didn’t. Nor did he arrive in time for the one after, much to Zed’s disappointment. He followed Caspian’s instructions and stayed in the park between trains, but when it got to lunchtime and Caspian still hadn’t appeared, Zed grew increasingly worried.

  Why hadn’t he come? Had his father stopped him? His mother? Had he suddenly realised just what he’d be leaving behind? Had he never meant to come? Had he fallen ill? Had an accident? Zed’s brain was on a Möbius loop going over and over everything before coming back to the same point. Caspian wasn’t coming. No matter how long Zed waited, he wasn’t going to come, and Zed couldn’t go back.

  He waited because a flicker of hope was still alight. Caspian might come. The guy in the ticket office had noticed Zed coming and going but hadn’t said anything, but Zed was petrified the police would arrive or his father. But he still waited and hoped.

  Hope turned to despair. Despair turned to worry. Was Caspian okay? In trouble?

  But everything had been fine. What could have gone wrong in such a short period of time?

  Worry turned to anger. Caspian didn’t care. He’d lied. This was all a game to him.

  Rage changed to sorrow. Zed was on his own. He had no choice. He couldn’t go home. He had to get on a train.

  Late afternoon, he asked a woman who was waiting if he could make a call from her phone. He offered her a pound, but she waved it away.

  “As long as you’re not calling abroad,” she said with a smile.

  “Local. Thank you.”

  Zed’s mouth dried as he pressed in Caspian’s number. All he wanted to know was why. But when the phone was answered, it wasn’t Caspian who was speaking but a man.

  “Hello?”

  “Can I talk to Caspian, please?”

  “Zed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Caspian is no longer your friend. Don’t call him again.”

  “Can I speak to him, please?”

  There was a pause and then the man said, “He doesn’t want to speak to you. He said he made a mistake and he was too ashamed to tell you to your face. He doesn’t want to leave home.”

  Zed ended the call and handed the phone back to the woman, his heart hammering.

  He’d still wait. Just in case. How could he not? His own father would have lied. Maybe Caspian’s father was lying too.

  He’ll come.

  He will come.

  He will.

  He will.

  But he didn’t.

  Zed waited until the last train. It was almost ten. Even when it pulled into the station, he hesitated, thinking he’d turn and see Caspian running towards him, and he did turn and look but the platform was empty. Zed was the only one catching the train. He climbed on board, found an empty seat and sat with his face pressed to the window. All day, he’d not given in to the tight feeling in his chest but when the train pulled out, he started to cry.

  He cried because he was feeling sorry for himself. He’d thought with Caspian at his side, he could face anything. London wasn’t going to be a city paved with gold. He wasn’t stupid. But he was a kid. Now a homeless kid.

  He cried because this was the day he’d lost his last connection to love. He’d loved Caspian. He knew others wouldn’t see that, would call him childish and naive, but Zed knew what was in his heart. Caspian had meant everything to him.

  His tears eventually ran out, but the pain went on.

  Arriving at St Pancras station late at night meant Zed’s choices of what to do were limited. From the moment he’d got on the train, he’d felt as if he were falling with no parachute. He had nowhere to go, no idea of where to go. He put his backpack on, winced when it rubbed his sore back, and headed down the platform.

  There were transport police everywhere. Zed doubted he’d be allowed to sleep on a bench even if he said he was waiting for a train. But he couldn’t see any benches. Nor did he have a ticket to prove he was a waiting passenger. He had nothing to show who he was. He was hungry but there were no cafés open. He’d already eaten the few things he’d taken from the fridge and finished his water, though he’d topped up the bottle, so at least he had something to drink.

  How long could he keep walking through the station, looping in circles, before he was challenged, or collapsed? Every time he thought about Caspian he wanted to lie down and sob. Caspian had promised not to let him down. Promises meant nothing. He’d never believe anyone ever again.

  All the plans they had, all Zed’s dreams of lying next to Caspian in bed, touching him, being touched, it was all gone. Over before it had begun. Zed would never see him again. He’d lost him and the sooner he accepted that the better because he was on his own now, and if he was going to survive, he had to be smart.

  Yet even after all that, he struggled to let Caspian go. If he’d really changed his mind, Zed wanted to know why. He walked slowly through the concourse, hunger gnawing at him, spots dancing in front of tired eyes. He was drawn towards a public phone and before he could change his mind, he called Caspian.

  “The number you have called is not in service.”

  Zed groaned. He wished now that he’d not left without talking to Caspian. He could have slept in the treehouse. He’d let Caspian down as much as Caspian had let him down. Zed knew he ought to call his brother and tell him he was okay though he worried about making things difficult for him with their father. Still, Tamaz was all the family he had left, and he di
dn’t want to lose him too.

  “Tamaz? It’s me.”

  “Oh thank God. Alhamdulillah. Where are you?”

  “London.”

  “What happened?”

  “You’re not with him, are you?” Zed had no father now.

  “No. He called to say you’d stolen his phone and his money and run off. Wanted to know if you’d come to me. Though he seems to think you’ll be back when you realise you’ve made a mistake. Are you safe? You want me to come and get you?”

  Yes. “No, I’m fine.”

  “Why did you run?”

  “Because he hit me again and I can’t take his hatred anymore.”

  An announcement came over the loud speakers and Zed winced.

  “Let me call Fahid. He’ll come and get you. You don’t have to go back home.”

  “I’ve a hostel sorted out. I’m fine. Really. I’ll be in touch again. Don’t worry about me. Bye.”

  Zed put the phone back the hook. No way was he going anywhere with Fahid. He’d longed to ask Tamaz to help him but he didn’t want to come between his brother and his father. That didn’t seem fair.

  As he wandered through the station concourse he heard someone playing the piano and followed the sound. An old guy was belting out a jazz number on an upright painted in rainbow colours. Zed stood and listened. The music was lively and fun, but it didn’t improve his mood. Still, listening to a slow sombre piece wouldn’t help either.

  There was a notice near the piano saying it was a gift and open to everyone. Zed wanted to play. His fingers twitched in anticipation. He’d wait for the guy to finish.

  When he had, Zed waited a little longer until no one was watching. He sat on the stool and kept his backpack on. He couldn’t afford to lose it and he tended to get distracted when he played. But when he lifted his hands, he didn’t know what to play. He let his mind run and somehow his fingers worked without him telling them what to do. Liszt’s La Campanella.

  The rhythm of the bell kept him grounded, steadied his heart. Playing allowed him to stop thinking. Playing let him escape. The world blurred until it was just him and the piano.

  He moved to the next piece by Chopin, also in G# minor where his right hand had to race through fast moving semi-quavers. Followed that with more Liszt, a series of Transcendental Etudes that lasted almost forty minutes. He didn’t want to stop but before he started another piece, he looked round to see if anyone was waiting for a chance, as he had. He was alone.

  He played Beethoven, Bach, Debussy, a couple of Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsodies before he stood up and walked away. He was feeling more content, until he saw Fahid.

  Chapter Nine

  Caspian opened his eyes long enough to take in that he wasn’t dead, at least he didn’t think he was, and closed them again.

  The next time he opened them, he realised he was in hospital. Machines were bleeping, his body felt sluggish and his head ached. His closed his eyes, remembered everything and panic surged. Was Lachlan all right? Those girls? His heart flipped and flipped again. How could they be?

  A whimper slipped from his mouth. Zed! Even if only a few hours had passed, and he guessed it was more than that, Zed would have gone. But he’d call. He was good with numbers. He knew Caspian’s and he’d call.

  “Caspian? Are you awake? You’re in the hospital.”

  The voice whispering in his ear was his father’s. He struggled to open his eyes, then decided not to.

  “You’re going to be okay.”

  Am I? How would you know? He slid back into darkness where he felt safe.

  When he came around again, his father was still there, sitting at his bedside, Lachlan beside him, who didn’t look injured. Caspian had hoped to see Zed even though he’d known that wasn’t likely.

  “Accident,” he rasped. “Girls?”

  “Listen carefully.” His father leaned over so that his mouth was against Caspian’s ear. “You are going to do something for the family. The best thing you will ever do in your life, but the hardest.”

  What is he talking about? Then Caspian looked at his brother who wasn’t looking at him and he guessed. Oh fuck, no. Don’t ask me to do this. His father had told him he’d be okay and now Caspian knew that to be a lie.

  “You were driving,” his father whispered. “You were late to meet your friend for a day trip to London so you took my car. You were alone. You lost control on a sharp bend and hit the girls.”

  Caspian groaned. “Badly…hurt?”

  Lachlan sucked in a breath and Caspian felt as if he’d plunged into icy water.

  “They died,” his father said quietly.

  Caspian made a sound then that for a moment he didn’t think had come from him. The howl of an animal in pain. No. No. No.

  “Shhh,” his father whispered. “Listen. If the police discover Lachlan was driving, he won’t be able to finish his degree. He’ll go to prison. That will be the end of any chance of his working in the law, of ever becoming a politician. His life will be destroyed. You’re too young to go to prison. You’ll probably get a slap on the wrist and that will be that.”

  Caspian clenched his fists, then unclenched them because it hurt. A fucking slap on the wrist? Is that all those girls were worth? “I was…a passenger.”

  His father glanced at Lachlan, then turned back to Caspian. “Your fingerprints are on the steering wheel. You were found behind the wheel.”

  Caspian’s breathing faltered. “He moved…me?”

  “Yes,” Lachlan whispered.

  Caspian groaned. You fucking bastard.

  “To make the offence even worse as far as Lachlan is concerned, your idiotic brother was probably still over the limit for alcohol consumption and he’d taken drugs at the party. If he admits he was driving, he will not recover from this. You are the only one who can save him. Do something decent for once. Take the blame.”

  Lachlan leaned to whisper in Caspian’s other ear. “For the rest of my life, I will do everything I can to make this up to you.”

  Fuck you. “I want…my phone.”

  “I destroyed it,” his father said. “We thought it safer. When you’re well, I’ll get you another. A new number.”

  Why? Oh… Zed. “Did he call?” Caspian’s voice broke. “Does he know?”

  “No, he didn’t call,” his father said. “You understand what you have to say to the police?”

  “Lachlan killed three girls… Going too fast… Not looking at the road.”

  His father stared at him. “Lachlan was with me all morning.”

  And Caspian knew then that pain didn’t only come through being beaten. He closed his eyes and wished he was dead.

  But he didn’t die. Wishing didn’t work. If it had, Zed would be with him. He tried to figure out what to do, as if there was a choice. He hadn’t been driving. He hadn’t killed anyone. But the truth didn’t matter.

  He heard someone come into the room but he kept his eyes closed.

  “Has he regained consciousness?” a woman asked.

  “Not yet,” his father said.

  “You’ve been at his side for days. You need to rest.”

  At my side? Not because they were worried about his health. Only because they were worried he’d say the wrong thing.

  No one would be rushing to prove he hadn’t been behind the wheel when he’d been found alone in the car, in the driver’s seat, and his father had given Lachlan an alibi. He shouldn’t even be surprised his father wanted to save his brother, the golden child. Caspian slipped into darkness.

  When he next opened his eyes, his father and Lachlan were still there.

  “What about Mum?” Caspian asked. “Does she know the truth?”

  He saw his father and brother exchange a glance and knew they’d already spun their lies. This had all been decided before he’d woken up. Maybe they‘d hoped he wouldn’t wake up. If he refused to do what they wanted, they’d paint him as a liar.

  His father cleared his throat. “She believes y
ou were driving.”

  Lachlan’s future had been saved at the expense of his.

  “I want to talk to Lachlan,” Caspian said.

  His father left the room.

  Caspian stared at his brother. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Lachlan let out a shuddering breath. “I got out of the car. One girl lay pinned underneath, the other two sprawled like…broken dolls several metres away. There was blood everywhere. All I could think was if I was caught, it was the end of everything. I’d go to prison.”

  He swallowed hard. “It was a quiet road. No other cars around. I went back to the Jaguar. You were covered in blood. I unclipped your seat belt and hauled you… not out but onto the driver’s side. I fastened the seatbelt around you, dragged your hands up and down the wheel, onto the gear stick and the door handle. I closed the door and ran.”

  “You fucking bastard.”

  “You’re right. I am. All the way back to the house I knew I’d not done the right thing. I knew Father would be furious. No one saw me. I went straight to his study, didn’t knock, walked in and said I’d done something stupid. That you’d given me the slip. I followed in the Jag. Picked you up. You distracted me and I hit three girls and killed them.” He gulped. “Oh Jesus, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “Did he ask about me?”

  Lachlan nodded. “I said you’d hit your head and were unconscious when I left you. I didn’t know how badly hurt you were. I panicked. If I’d stayed, the police would have tested me and that would be the end of my life.”

  Instead, it was the end of Caspian’s.

  “I told Father I’d moved you into the driver’s seat. I thought we could say you took the car. If you’d died…I mean there was no point me taking the blame if you were dead. And if you weren’t, you’re a kid. You won’t go to prison.”