by Gina Blaxill
Sometimes I felt sorry for Dad. His genes seemed to have got lost somewhere. But then in some ways Dad did seem like a bit of a nothing person. Thanks to his night shifts I didn’t see much of him. Even when I did, he never had much to say. He was probably sleeping right now. For all I knew, he didn’t even know what had happened yet.
I rolled my eyes at Nadina as Mum carried on fussing. She grinned. Sometimes I thought Nads liked my parents more than I did. Sometimes I thought my parents liked Nadina more than me too.
‘Are the police going to get the bad guys?’ Benno asked, bringing over my toast and tea. He’d put too much milk in and it was lukewarm. I didn’t say anything though.
‘Don’t think they’re optimistic.’ Some big sisters would have lied and said yes just to make Benno feel safe, but we didn’t do stuff like that in my family. ‘No one got a decent look. Unless there’s a star eyewitness with laser eyes that see through stuff, or magic CCTV, I have a feeling it might be difficult.’
‘That officer said there were a lot of conflicting descriptions,’ Nadina put in. ‘Like, even you and me can’t agree what colour the car was.’
‘It was too dark to make out properly.’ It was so frustrating. I normally had a good memory for facts and faces.
‘Police never get to the bottom of anything like this,’ Nadina said. ‘You know what that officer said? That stuff like that wasn’t unusual here, like Walthamstow was a ghetto or something.’
‘Well, it’s no Chelsea. Stuff does happen.’
‘True, but we could do without the cynicism,’ Mum said, and started talking about what she called ‘the gang angle’. She had it all worked out. The guys in the car were gang members. We were on their patch and they’d been in the mood for trouble. Nadina joined in. I finished my breakfast-cum-lunch. Benno kept trying to get a word in – he loved crime stories – but after being talked over a couple of times he trailed into the living room and I heard him switch on the TV.
I sighed. I wasn’t sure what to believe. Motiveless crime did happen, but not usually to kids like me and Sam. We weren’t connected to any of the local gangs. At least, I assumed Sam wasn’t in with a gang. Maybe he led a double life. It wouldn’t surprise me. He hadn’t let anyone at school get close to him. And I was pretty sure that someone in the car had called his name. I hadn’t mentioned that to the police though. For some reason I hadn’t wanted to. I remembered the nervous spark in Sam’s eyes. Had he suspected someone might be after him or had he simply been anxious about talking to me? He’d had something to say that I ‘wouldn’t like’. But how could he know that? We were practically strangers.
And if Sam had known he was in danger . . . whatever it was had to be pretty damn important to risk leaving the house for.
When Nadina headed home I walked with her. I’d changed into my tracksuit so I could go for a run.
‘You’re not superwoman, y’know,’ Nadina said as we crossed the green towards the high street. Her family owned a shop there. ‘Working out? Seriously? After what you’ve been through?’
‘Need to do something. Running makes me feel better.’
‘Chocolate does it for most people.’
‘And Superdrug’s haircare aisle does it for you.’ Nadina’s obsession with hairspray was a longstanding joke. I’d known Nads since Year 7. I had never, not once, seen her without her hair styled. She always carried a mirror and was never satisfied until it was perfect. Currently she was wearing it curled and tied to one side, her fringe dyed blonde. ‘Making the most of what I got going for me, innit,’ she had said when I’d asked why she bothered so much. This wasn’t true – Nads had the kind of smile that lit up her face and a curvy figure that suited her perfectly. But I guess no one sees themselves as others do.
‘Gotta shoot,’ Nadina said, taking a packet of chewing gum from her jeans pocket and slipping a piece into her mouth. ‘My cousins are coming over.’
I nodded. Nadina had a big extended family and spent a lot of time with them. She also helped out at the shop several days a week after sixth form. Sometimes that left me lonely, but I was used to it by now. ‘Any news on Hamdi Gul?’
‘Same, last I heard. Everyone in the mosque is praying, but it ain’t doing much good, is it?’
I almost said I was sure things would be OK. But I wasn’t sure and Nads knew it. Hamdi Gul was the son of a couple who ran a minimart a couple of roads from Nadina’s family’s shop. He was doing an IT degree at the local uni and worked in the shop part-time. I didn’t really know him, but Nadina did. She knew everyone in the local Turkish community. Several nights ago some guys had run into the shop and demanded that Hamdi open up the till. Exactly what happened, no one knew, but there had been a scuffle and Hamdi had picked up a serious head injury. He’d been in hospital ever since. At first it had looked like he was going to regain consciousness, but his condition had worsened on Friday to critical.
Even thinking about it made me angry. It was so pointless! I couldn’t get my head round why anyone would go so far for a couple of hundred quid and some bottles of booze. Hamdi was no threat and he’d already given them the cash. They’d just wanted to beat someone senseless.
Compared to Hamdi, Sam and I were well lucky. When I said so, Nadina half smiled.
‘C’mon. Just cos there are worse things out there doesn’t mean you’ve no right to feel chewed up. Way you talk sometimes, it’s a surprise there’s not a halo round your head. Cut yourself some slack.’
‘Wasn’t brought up to cut myself slack,’ I said. ‘There’s no time for my unimportant problems.’
‘Hey, your parents are OK, Im. Your mum cares, even if she’s not that hands on.’
I ignored that. ‘Are your parents scared? The kebab place two roads along got done the week before Hamdi’s. All the shopkeepers must be on red alert.’
Nadina shrugged. ‘Closing up’s not an option. I told Dad he should keep a baseball bat behind the counter, but he just laughed. God, listen to us, Im!’ She grinned. ‘Prematurely old or what? We should be talking about manicures, not this heavyweight crap.’
I laughed. ‘We suck, don’t we? We’re just not proper teenagers. Maybe we should embrace it. Get into knitting and stuff.’
‘No chance. I’ll take heavyweight crap over knitting any day. You meeting Ollie later?’
I nodded. Nadina hesitated a moment then said, ‘Advance warning – he seemed pretty mad about you going outside like that with Sam. He tried to go out after you but I stopped him.’
I pursed my lips. ‘I didn’t have him down as the jealous type. OK. Thanks.’
‘Just thought you oughta know. And now I really gotta go. See ya, grandma. Text if you need to.’
Waving her goodbye, I began my run. I started to feel more like myself again. Running felt so natural to me. When I was on my feet, nothing and no one could get me. I could forget about all my worries. Running was what had made the worst patch in my life, when we’d lived in Kent, bearable. It was impossible to run away from who you were, but I felt I got close.
No point thinking about everything I didn’t like in my life right now though. In just under two years I’d be able to escape to university and start over, away from all this grief.
Instead I thought about what Nads had said. It had been a joke, but she had a point. Nadina spent her free time working at the shop, on family commitments or volunteering. She wanted to be a social worker. My free time got eaten up by running, volleyball, babysitting Benno or stuff around the house. Teachers often complimented us on how responsible and mature we were. Until now I’d never thought we might be missing out.
By the time I’d worked up a sweat, I’d decided what to do. It was simple – speak to Sam. No doubt I was blowing Saturday out of proportion with these crazy notions that someone could have wanted him dead. I had questions. If anyone had answers, it was him.
‘Hey, Im!’
I looked and saw Ollie waving from the other side of the green. I jogged over, wiping my forehea
d. I didn’t look my best, but Ollie did sports too and didn’t care about stuff like that. Today I could see that he was wearing a black hoody that said Devereux Hawks across the back. Ollie was proud of captaining the school basketball team. His hoody wasn’t unlike my volleyball one. We made a right pair. But then we always had been a pair, even before we’d started going out at the end of Year 11. Ollie had been the male head prefect – prefects in our school were Year 11s, so sixth-formers could concentrate on their studies. Everyone had always acted like it was only a matter of time before we got together.
‘Just like Im Maxwell to date a male version of herself,’ one girl had mocked, to which I’d replied, ‘Jealous?’ That had shut her up. Ollie was the school pin-up – literally. His photo was plastered over the school prospectus and even on an advertisement at the station. No one complained. Ollie had his Colombian mum’s olive complexion and dark hair, which he currently wore short on the sides and thick on top, and a weirdly symmetrical face. On someone else it might not have worked, but on him it did.
I was probably the least romantic girl in the whole year, but I liked having a boyfriend. Family always came first for Nadina so it was good to have someone else around.
‘Your mum told me you were here,’ Ollie said when I reached him. He leaned in to kiss me hello. When the kiss deepened, I pulled back in surprise. After Nads’s warning I’d been braced for him to have a go at me about Sam.
‘Wow, you really are relieved to see me out and about!’ I joked. Ollie and me weren’t normally too demonstrative in public. It was different in private, although we didn’t go much further than making out. I didn’t want more at the moment and he’d never pushed me. I liked that he respected me. We were together, sure, but first and foremost we were good mates.
‘Obviously.’ Ollie gave a small smile, not meeting my eyes. He seemed a little sheepish, and weirdly self-conscious. ‘You could’ve been killed. Here.’ He shoved a carrier bag at me. ‘Thought you deserved a present. Seems a bit rubbish that invalids get grapes though, so I got you these.’
Inside the bag was a box of chocolates. It was a small one with Aldi branding. That explained his embarrassment – Ollie didn’t have much spare cash and could be touchy about it. I gave him a peck on the cheek.
‘Nice one. Who’d’ve known you were so thoughtful? Thanks!’
I changed the subject and we walked across the green discussing last night, hand in hand. After a while I said, ‘I’ve had it up to here talking about yesterday. How about we do normal instead?’
Ollie hesitated, then said, ‘Normal sounds good.’ He felt inside his hoody pocket. ‘Got just about enough to treat you at the falafel place. Fancy it?’
I laughed. ‘Wow, falafel and chocolates! Lucky me.’
Ollie coloured slightly. ‘Yeah, well, you should never have wound up in that accident. I’m just relieved you’re OK.’
That explains why we’re being so touchy-feely today, I thought as we headed off. Ollie was clearly still spooked by last night. It was sweet of him to show he cared like this. Whether it was being with Ollie, or deciding to speak to Sam, I felt better. Soon I would be back to being normal Imogen Maxwell, who didn’t do doubts and had everything sorted.
SAM
SUNDAY 10 NOVEMBER
After a few mind-numbingly empty hours waiting in A & E the anger I’d experienced in the ambulance had faded into a chilling what am I going to do now feeling. I even became desperate enough to drink one of the insult-to-real-coffee-coffees from the vending machines. By the time I got home what I was feeling had changed to – well, I don’t even know what you’d call it. Denial? Disbelief? As I lay on my bed, surrounded by familiar things, it became a challenge to even get my head around what had happened, let alone that it had happened to me.
Tamsin had taken everything far more in her stride than I’d expected. When she’d teetered into A & E in her heels and enormous fluffy leopard-print coat I’d thought things were about to go from bad to worse, but apart from some dramatic hand-waving, she stayed pretty calm and didn’t even appear pissed off at being dragged out so late. She was far less horrified by the fact that I’d almost been killed than by my chin, which, by the time the doctor had finished stitching it up, looked like it belonged on Frankenstein’s monster.
‘He’s going to be scarred for life!’ She had cried. ‘Isn’t there something else you can do? Didn’t someone say something about plastic surgery?’
‘The stitches will do the job just fine,’ the doctor said. I’d noticed him checking Tamsin out when we’d entered. As usual she seemed oblivious to it. ‘A week and they can come out. The cut’s underneath the chin. He’ll barely notice the scar in a few months. And his wrist is only lightly sprained; all things considered, Sam’s pretty lucky.’
I didn’t feel lucky. As Tamsin drove home I pretended to be sleepy to avoid answering her questions. As we drew up in front of the house I tried to sort my head out. I didn’t think they knew where I lived – surely they’d have tried to get me before now. I did wonder how they’d found me last night, but there was no way they could have followed me – I’d only decided to go out last minute. No, it must just have been bad luck. Maybe they’d been hanging round the high street anyway. I’d been meaning to speak to Imogen for a while before Saturday but she was never alone at school, and unless you’re one of the cool kids you don’t just approach girls like her in public. More importantly, I was afraid of who might see us.
Then I’d overheard her talking to Nadina Demir about a girls’ night out on the high street, so I knew where she’d be on Saturday night. If I’d’ve known that the girl’s night out had turned into a big night out, guys included, I’d never have gone. But by the time I’d clocked that Imogen was with a massive gang of people including her boyfriend, it was too late to back out.
At least I was home. I didn’t feel at all at ease, but it was the safest place right now – Dad had installed an expensive security system last year after the house next door had been burgled, so there was that to rely on. And there was Jessie too – she rarely left my side, though greyhounds weren’t really much use as guard dogs.
My phone was under my pillow where I’d hidden it. It was a smartphone with a green cover, new last birthday, with unlimited texts, calls and Internet. ‘So you can keep in the loop with your mates,’ Dad had said, and I’d smiled and said it was an amazing present and didn’t mention that it had smacked home just how much of a loner I was these days. Before Mum had got ill I had lots of friends, but as time went on I’d ended up cutting them out. They hadn’t understood what I was dealing with and it was just painful being around happy people. The only people that still contacted me were my cousin Mia and Harrison, my old neighbour. Stupid phone! So much for it being smart; all it ever did was make me feel bad. And now it had got me into serious trouble too.
Mia had texted last night asking what I was up to. I texted back, then wished I hadn’t. Mia would wonder why I was replying at such a funny time. My cousin was only thirteen but looked and behaved like she was older, plus she was sharp enough to pick up on things you’d rather she didn’t. Mia knew a little about what was going on and I was determined that she wouldn’t find out any more. Thinking about her made me realize just how on my own I was. I definitely wasn’t going to tell Tamsin what had happened, Dad was in Copenhagen for work, and I couldn’t see any way that Mia’s parents could help.
I could only think of one other person I might be able to trust. Her number was in my phone, though by rights I shouldn’t actually have it. Nadina had left her mobile behind after science back in Year 11, and because I was loitering so I didn’t have to leave the classroom with everyone else, I was the only person left to pick it up and return it to her after break. I didn’t look at any of her messages. All I’d done was take Imogen’s number because – well, I didn’t really know why. I often didn’t know why I did things; they just made sense at the time, even if they made a total lack of sense later. The point was,
I had it, and I could ring her now and tell her what I’d been going to say last night and then maybe between us we could do the right thing, whatever the right thing was . . .
But then I thought back and saw car headlights rushing towards me and knew I couldn’t. Imogen had put herself out enough for me already. If I could protect Mia by keeping quiet, the least I could do was the same for Imogen, right? This was my problem and I could sort it out myself. That’s what real men did, like the blokes in the old-fashioned films I used to watch with Mum. If you were stupid enough to put yourself in danger, it was up to you to fix it.
Near the end, that was all Mum and I had really done – work our way through box sets of DVDs, submerging ourselves in classic films and TV shows, pretending that reality wasn’t knocking on the door. The steroids she was on meant she was always hungry, and although she was too weak to cook, I’d make her whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it. Cooking was about the only useful thing I could do to actually help her, to distract her from the pain. When I couldn’t sleep I’d stay up late into the night, working my fear and anger into dough so there would be fresh bread for Mum in the morning.
None of these things were what fourteen-year-old boys usually did in their spare time, but there isn’t much space for normal when you know your mum’s dying of cancer. I’d thought a lot of Mum’s films were silly at first, unrealistic nonsense about people in costumes, but I’d gone along with them for her sake. Later on I changed my mind. The stories were so outside real life that I started looking forward to escaping into other people’s made-up worlds. When we sat down in front of It’s A Wonderful Life, or The Third Man, I knew that for the next two hours or so I could escape the crushing reality of the here and now.
