She eased the door closed behind her as she moved calmly into the kitchen, got down a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water and reached for a large bottle of white tablets that lived on the sideboard, next to the microwave. She took out one tablet, looked at it solemnly for a moment and put it into her mouth.
She swallowed two gulps of water and rinsed the glass in the sink before making her way slowly towards the stairs. As she passed the living-room door, she noticed it was slightly ajar, not as she had left it. She kept her pace even until she was in the safety of her room.
She sat in her study chair, pulled books out of her bag and laid them carefully on the desk. She picked up her paper weight. It was made from blue glass. Her dad had brought it back with him from one of his numerous school trips. She couldn’t remember from where.
Hannah listened intently to the sounds coming from downstairs. Shifting slightly in her seat, she leaned over to open the casement window that was right beside her desk. The white window sill was dust free and clean. She ran her hand gently over its smooth finish. The smell of the night air invaded her room.
She opened her mouth, rolling her tongue around and spat out the remains of the white tablet into the palm of her hand. It was shiny with spit and perfectly preserved. Not for the first time, and surely not for the last, she said a silent thank you to Bunny for showing her how to hide her meds under her tongue, making it look as if she was swallowing them.
She placed a page of history notes on her desk and, taking up the heavy paperweight, she began to grind down the slightly moist tablet, crushing it into a fine powder. It was one of the few pleasures of her day, in the evening, and sometimes in the morning if she was on double meds, to grind away the evidence of her supposed illness.
She found it therapeutic. She wondered how Dr Morris would interpret that feeling. Hannah leaned over towards the window, the piece of paper fluttering, caught by the gentle wind. Tipping it upside down, she watched the powder blow delicately away on the evening wind.
There was a load of homework that needed finishing. Study was difficult, especially when it was necessary to keep her top mark average. Opening her maths book, she stared at the typed words, relaxing her mind, letting it wander.
Anyone looking at her would think her the model daughter; passive, obedient and sane. That’s what her parents wanted for her, that’s what Dr Morris lied and said she wanted for her. None of them acknowledged her difference, none of them, in the long line of people in front of whom she had been paraded, who had poked and prodded her, trying to decide if she was schizophrenic, psychotic, neurotic, ADD, autistic – the list was never-ending – had ever treated her like an individual. No one, except Kara Bailey.
Don’t think of her.
As a child, when Hannah had said she could see into people’s heads, that she could see people’s choices, her parents had looked apologetic at the doctors, guilty almost. At home they had prayed for hours on their knees for God to save their child, their little miracle, their adopted daughter.
After all their trying for years to conceive, they finally made the selfless decision to give an orphan a home. Hannah would have never known if it wasn’t for Dr Morris. It was a weapon at first, a weapon of words that she used against Hannah, goading her with it, taunting her. At first Hannah didn’t believe her, then, over time, the truth began to make sense, began to fit around things in a comfortable way.
So she wasn’t really their biological daughter, but her parents loved her. But the day she fell down the stairs, that day had changed her forever. Her parents thought they needed to cast the devil from her.
Dr Morris had been highly recommended by someone from the church group.
‘For her own good,’ they had convinced themselves.
Sighing, Hannah got up from her desk and rolled on to the bed. Changing her clothes would require too much energy. Instead she pulled the duvet up and snuggled under its heavy weight.
She needed to think.
The man from her dreams, the one who was surrounded by death, had been across the road and had spoken to her, knew what she was.
There was a tight pain radiating from the bridge of her nose. She wondered if she was getting a migraine. Her body, exhausted after the fright earlier on, betrayed her by drifting off to sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Kara slammed her locker door closed. The day had passed slower than a wet week. Some of the other students were staring at her. She made a mental note to try to contain the new exuberance of her body whilst in the vicinity of normal people. She thought about Hannah for the hundredth time that day. Where the hell was she? Kara didn’t have her phone number, had no idea where the girl lived. To say that they needed to talk was a serious understatement. A niggling concern kept popping into her head. Had Hannah made it home in one piece?
Fresh air, she needed some fresh air. Kara walked through the school doors out into the wintery sunshine. Curling the tips of her fingers into the sleeve of her jumper, she huffed out a steamy breath. She liked days like this, when the atmosphere was crisp, crinkling with almost snow.
Across the car park Kara noticed Ben talking to one of his friends. He saw her and waved. She raised her jumpered hand, feeling foolish. This trying-to-avoid-Ben business was harder than she expected. She walked on, wishing for longer hair so that she could cover her face.
‘Keep moving, just keep moving,’ she whispered to herself.
‘Hey.’ Ben touched her arm.
Kara stopped, a smile plastered to her face, ‘Hi.’ Too eager. Her voice sounded pathetically keen. Why was he talking to her? Surely after the incident with Ashleigh nobody in the whole school wanted to converse with her.
‘How have you been? I haven’t seen you around much.’ Concern crinkled the corners of his eyes.
Kara felt her heart skip a beat. She prayed that he wouldn’t notice the tint of pink creeping up her cheeks.
‘I’ve been fine,’ she lied.
In the smallest, most backward part of her brain she wondered if the weirdo knife-wielder would be waiting for her this evening. She caught a whiff on the air, like rotting garbage.
She shivered involuntarily.
Could she outrun him?
Would he try to hurt her?
Streams of adrenalin began to course through her veins, making her shift anxiously from one foot to another; all the while Ben was watching her, waiting for her to say something.
‘Um, Ben, I have to go. Rosemary is . . . I have an appointment.’ She gestured in the general direction of her house, babbling like a verbally incontinent ninny. ‘Sorry I haven’t been very chatty lately.’
Shut up, shut up, her brain shouted at her, but her mouth kept working, forming pointless words.
‘I’ve had some personal stuff to try and sort out and have been feeling a bit off.’
Ben’s brow puckered into a frown. Kara cringed; she was being such a dork.
‘No problem, Kara. I know things have been a bit tough lately.’
Ya, no thanks to your girlfriend.
‘You better get on, then,’ he said.
Kara wasn’t sure what he meant and it took her a moment to realise he was waiting for her to rush off for her very important appointment with her stepmother.
Kara cursed her stupidity and stepped away from him. ‘See you tomorrow.’
She knew Ben was watching her as she walked away, shoulders tense. She tried to progress with poise and confidence. She was concentrating so hard that she stumbled over her own feet.
A groan of embarrassment worked its way through her lips.
Keep moving and under no circumstances do you turn round.
For once she actually listened to her inner voice. There were more pressing matters to think about than Ashleigh Jameson’s lovely boyfriend.
Resolute determination sharpened her mind. The weirdo with the knife, the man Hannah has been dreaming about, the whole thing was totally weird. But Kara was going to get to the botto
m of this mess. Maybe he was a drug dealer, Hannah some kind of crack whore. The thought made Kara smile. As if! Hannah was a top honours student who never got into a lick of trouble.
No, this was something else, something more complicated. She walked cautiously along the street, her nose cocked in the air, alert for the smell of rotting garbage.
Curiosity and a strange residue of what Kara could only describe as anticipation kept her adrenalin going and her thoughts on edge as she walked along the footpath.
She was confident that if this guy made a move on her, she (a) could easily outrun him and (b) would at least be able to inflict some sort of damage on him, allowing her time to get away.
Not that she intended approaching him down a dark alleyway in the middle of the night . . . not that she intended on approaching him at all, she reassured her sensible self.
It was just that if he happened to be there on the way home she would say hi. The thought almost made her laugh out loud. Perhaps she was losing her mind, another side effect of her personality displacement. Say hi to a weirdo who showed up outside her school, has the worst case of BO imaginable, somehow knows that her friend has a freakish talent and claims that Kara has something belonging to him.
Well, she would just see what happened.
The soft sound of an engine behind her caught her attention at the end of the road. She wondered if it was a motorbike and increased her pace slightly, anxious to get home, all bravado deserting her.
The purr of the engine was getting nearer and sounded as if it was slowing down. Kara caught the faint whiff of something worryingly familiar. She walked on, refusing to turn round, her heart stuffed somewhere in the back of her throat.
She heard her name and closed one eye, unwilling to turn round. She wanted to touch her face, smooth any redness away, pat her hair into some kind of order. She turned slowly and approached the edge of the footpath.
‘Hi.’
Ben rolled down the window and looked expectantly at her, ‘Do you want a lift? It seemed kind of important, your appointment thing.’
Kara scanned the road ahead, noting the elongating shadows, the dark places behind walls, at the base of the leafless trees. The smell of rotting garbage tickled her nose. The weirdo was nearby; she was certain of it.
What was she thinking, walking home on her own?
‘Sure.’ She opened the door and slid into the seat, her cold hands fumbling with her bag.
They travelled in silence for a minute, Kara frantically trying to think of something to say. Should she ask about his training? She knew the final scouting matches were coming up soon, that Ben would be trying to impress the coach from St David’s. Maybe she should ask about his family, but Ben rarely spoke about home. She realised she knew very little about him, apart from his love of football and the crossover in their class schedule. She hoped that he wouldn’t drop Ashleigh’s name into the conversation. Kara definitely didn’t want to discuss that topic.
All too soon they rounded the corner of her street and she could see her house. Expertly he pulled the car over, cutting the engine. She smiled politely at him as she gathered up her school satchel, wondering how to get out of the car in the most dignified manner.
She glanced at him. He was smirking at her. What had she done now? Should she say something?
‘OK . . . so thanks for the lift.’
She fumbled with her possessions and began to turn towards the door.
‘Kara.’
‘Ya.’
‘Do you think you should undo your seatbelt before you try to get out?’
Kara looked down at her belt, still safely buckled. Oh no. Fumbling, her fingers tried to simultaneously undo the belt, while keeping all her possessions safely accounted for. The result of the exercise wasn’t very fruitful. She didn’t dare look at him, in case he was laughing at her.
The seat belt was stuck. She had pressed the red release button twice now and nothing. She could feel her temper begin to uncoil. Sitting back she took a couple of deep breaths. Ben leaned over and, with a click, undid the belt for her. He was very close. She could smell his aftershave. His whole body was turned towards her. He was really very large next to her, encased in the small space of his mum’s car. She swallowed nervously and looked at him. His hazel eyes regarded her intently. She was finding it hard to breathe, the space lacking oxygen. She very badly wanted to loosen the top button of her shirt.
‘You owe me,’ he said quietly.
‘Excuse me?’
‘You kinda stood me up at the Halloween dance.’
Kara twitched her head; she was confused. ‘You took Ashleigh. Ashleigh and you . . . you are, like . . .’ Kara moved her hands together, joining them, trying to elaborate her poorly chosen words.
Oh, ground, please open, please just swallow me, even if you have to take the car too.
Ben scoffed, moving back in his seat.
He cleared his throat. ‘Ashleigh and I went together as friends. She said she needed a date and that you had wanted her and me to go together.’
‘What?’ Kara tried to keep the indignation from her voice.
‘You didn’t tell her anything of the sort, did you?’ He clenched his fists at the steering wheel.
Kara shook her head. ‘I thought you two were . . .’
‘What? A couple?’ Ben looked out of the window. ‘Me and Ashleigh would never work. Besides, I’m not interested. I have my eye on someone else.’
Kara squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. Ashleigh had lied to him, had lied to them both.
The little manipulative . . .
Dating Ben Shephard – that was the cause of all this trouble with Ashleigh. But it was so unfair, she’d never technically dated him . . .
‘OK.’ Kara turned towards him, her voice hesitant.
‘OK, what?’
‘I owe you. You can take me out.’
Screw you, Ashleigh Jameson.
Kara imagined the look of horror on Ashleigh’s face.
‘You sure?’ Ben asked.
‘You want it in writing or something? Signed in blood?’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m sure.’
He grinned back at her. ‘Great. Tomorrow? We can take a drive up to the gap. I’ll show you the view at night.’
Kara swallowed slowly. The gap. Oh crap. If Rosemary found out she was going up there, she would freak. University students and those fortunate enough to have their own car went up there. It was a slice of the mountainside carved out, it seemed, by the hand of a higher power. A huge chunk of landscape was missing when you drove up the curving mountain road, your ears popping all the way. It was a notorious drinking spot.
‘Great.’ She smiled tightly at him, hoping he hadn’t caught the hint of panic in her voice.
‘I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.’
Kara kept her mouth shut and nodded her head in agreement, afraid a squeak of fright or anticipation might escape from her at any second. The gap, the gap, the gap. The words seemed to be bouncing through her brain. She knew she’d better say something.
‘OK. See you then.’
With a blast of determination, she pulled the door handle and hurled herself and her belongings as gracefully as she could out of the car.
Chapter Eighteen
Ben parked in his driveway. He sat, thinking about Kara. He wondered what it would be like to almost die. For a fleeting second, he considered if he would want to wake up. Shaking his head, he opened the car door, easing out of the driver’s seat. The tendons around his knee stretched, the sensation unpleasant.
To distract himself he considered his current predicament: Ashleigh.
She was a problem, a carbuncle of a problem. He was such a fool for believing her. Why had he not insisted on visiting Kara in hospital?
‘Kara is not able to cope with visitors, Ben. Her stepmother has requested that people respect her wishes and leave her to recover.’
Those were her exact wor
ds, her big eyes unblinking, her lie so believable. He knew that she was calculating, but to lie about her best friend? He wondered about her connection with the head coach from St David’s. Supposedly, if the rumours were to be believed, Ashleigh had a new boyfriend, someone older. Perhaps Ben was off the hook now. There was no doubt in his mind that if he crossed her she would concoct lies to scupper his chance at a scholarship. He’d kept off her radar with sheer skill these last six months. He should continue to do so, just to be on the safe side.
He had missed Kara when she was recovering from her accident. Biology class lost its spark of expectation when she wasn’t there. Instead it was just textbooks, experiments and tedium. He hadn’t realised how much he liked her till she was gone.
Keeping his mind off girls at school had been hard. He would never be able to bring them home and he couldn’t afford to let anyone get too close, but with Kara and her past he felt that perhaps she would understand if he kept her at a distance from his private life. Both of them had lost a parent, both of them had experienced grief – maybe she would be more understanding.
Ben let himself into the house. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was thick and acrid, like burnt charcoal. He dropped his bag and in four easy steps was through to the kitchen, flicking the switch for the toaster off at the wall. A screen of smoke billowed from two charred remnants of bread in the jaws of the kitchen appliance. They smouldered, hissing at him.
‘For fuck’s sake!’ He banged his fist down hard on the countertop. The cups and cutlery on the draining board rattled with the force of his anger. What if Alexandra and James had been at home? Things were getting out of hand.
Was it not bad enough that the bank was looking to repossess the house, let alone having his mother burn the place down around their ears? He had to get out of here. The sooner he got on a university course, the sooner he could get a qualification and start earning decent money. He needed to look after his brother and sister. They were his responsibility; he had promised his father.
He walked through the kitchen into the living room. The TV was on, a talk show blaring full blast. His mother lay on the couch, one arm dipping across her chest, the other falling lopsided off the edge, drooping near the carpet.
Blood Entwines Page 10
