Saving Silence

by Gina Blaxill

  The thought that they were afraid of what I’d seen and might do – afraid of me – was beyond weird.

  ‘Mia,’ I said, ‘don’t worry about me and don’t say anything, please. I’ll ring later.’

  I ended the call. Mia immediately rang back but I ignored her. Think and don’t panic, I told myself. Who was impersonating me online, pumping Mia for information? Whoever it was would need my login details. Either they’d hacked my Messenger account or they were on my computer. I felt uncomfortable as I remembered how lazy I was with online security – it was just so much easier to get web pages to remember your passwords . . .

  . . . which meant whoever it was could be in my house right now.

  And oh my God! What if it was them?

  Now I really did freak out. Tamsin was in terrible danger! They might have hurt her already! I wasn’t her biggest fan, but I didn’t want that to happen.

  If it was them, it meant they knew that Mia had been there too. It wouldn’t be hard to find where she lived, not if they were in my room. Mia was just a kid! She wouldn’t be able to protect herself if they came after her. They might try to kill her too!

  And I couldn’t do anything to stop them. In a panic, I did the only thing I could think of. I dialled the home line.

  It rang and rang. What was I expecting? These guys to play receptionist and pick up? Or Tamsin to answer, everything as normal? I was about to give up when I heard the click of the receiver.

  ‘Hello?’ It was a girl’s voice. She didn’t sound rough or hostile. In fact she sounded familiar . . .

  I put on an accent. It came out a funny mix between northern and Cockney, very unconvincing, but enough, I hoped, to disguise my voice. ‘Can I speak to Tamsin, please?’

  ‘She’s not here. Can I take a message?’

  ‘No, I’ll ring back later.’ I rang off. That had been Imogen! What was she doing at my house? Had it been her pretending to be me on Messenger? Given the timing, it seemed likely. At least that meant Mia was safe. But it also meant that she hadn’t been taken in by my bluffing in the kitchen the other day after all.

  Is she doing this by herself or are her friends helping? Perhaps Ollie had been there, listening in . . . I really needed to know if she was alone or not. It could change everything, especially as Imogen was asking questions that very much looked like she was getting close to the truth . . .

  IMOGEN

  SUNDAY 17 NOVEMBER

  The police wouldn’t let me go to the hospital. They gave me crap about ‘understanding I was upset but there was nothing I could do’. I screamed at them. I couldn’t help it. One of them took me aside and told me that getting mad wasn’t going to help Nadina. And then I looked at the glass in the doorway of the shop and realized there was a pool of blood and the nausea was so overpowering that I doubled up and threw up.

  It could only have been about five minutes later that another police officer came over, but it seemed like a whole night had passed. This was a young guy I thought I remembered seeing on patrol in the mall.

  ‘You’re Nadina’s friend, aren’t you?’ he said, kneeling in front of me.

  It felt wrong to hear him say her name. ‘Tell me she isn’t dead.’

  He gave me a sympathetic look. Oh God, I thought.

  ‘Looks like she’s going to be OK,’ he said. ‘The paramedics radioed my colleague just now. She’s badly hurt – I’m not going to lie – but it’s not life-threatening. All right?’

  All right? Was he joking? ‘What did they do to her?’

  ‘I don’t know any details, love. Listen, I think it’s time you let your mum take you home.’

  He meant Tamsin, who was hovering nearby, one manicured hand over her mouth. I had to give it to her for not bailing the hell out.

  Tamsin drove me home. I kept apologizing for getting her wound up in this, and she kept saying it was OK. Whether she meant it or not was anyone’s guess. But she was a big help with Mum, who wasn’t too happy at being woken up. I could tell Tamsin was shocked at that. If she’d been my mum, I bet she’d have been a lot more caring.

  I went straight upstairs after Tamsin left. As I closed the door to my room a thought came to me. Nadina’s shop could have been randomly attacked. But I’d place money on it being the same people that killed Hamdi Gul. Same street, same kind of shop. If this was true, Sam was key. Most likely he knew who they were.

  And I knew something too – that finding him now was on a whole new level. I considered what to do next. I didn’t have enough evidence to go to the police. Even if they took my suspicions seriously, I’d be safer without them stirring things up. Was it worth telling Tamsin? No, I decided, not yet. She’d probably just freak out and want to tell the police. For the moment, I was in this by myself.

  The next morning I phoned Nadina’s house right away. Her brother answered and told me what had happened in more detail.

  At half ten last night Nads and her dad had been in the shop. Three young guys had burst in. Two had knives. The third guy, apparently unarmed, had gone to the door, acting as lookout. Nadina and her dad hadn’t got a good look at him. The other two had been dressed anonymously, scarves over their faces. They’d demanded the money from the till. As Nadina’s dad had been opening it up one of them had shouted at him to hurry up and the other had struck Nadina in the jaw and broken it. I could only guess she’d been giving them lip. Despite everything, I almost smiled. Big mouth, getting into trouble. That was very Nadina.

  As if that hadn’t been enough, the guys had given her dad a roughing up too. Godssake! I felt heat rise inside me. They gave you the money! They weren’t fighting you! How bad can your lives be that you kick people when they’re down?

  ‘I’m not sure they’re going to let you see her,’ Mum said when I told her I was going to the hospital. I was standing in the hall, zipping up my body warmer and trying to find my gloves.

  ‘Why not?’ I said. ‘Her brother said she’s awake and she and her dad are going to be in for several days. Even if she can’t talk, I want to see her.’

  ‘That’s very nice of you.’

  I’m not doing it to be nice, I thought, irritated. ‘See you later.’

  ‘Are you going out like that?’

  I looked down at myself. Underneath the body warmer I’d slung on yesterday’s jeans and my volleyball T-shirt over a long-sleeved top. My trainers were mud-flecked. ‘Last I checked, hospitals were for treating sick people, not strutting your stuff.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Mum was wearing a printed dress, leggings and several bangles. As far as I knew, she wasn’t going anywhere special. Not with Dad anyway. He was upstairs, either sleeping or on the computer. ‘All I meant was, you don’t need to dress like you’ve come off the track all the time. You’re a pretty girl. Make more of yourself.’

  ‘Not helpful.’ My hand connected with my gloves in the pocket of another of my coats and I pulled them out. ‘Criticize my style, fine, but not now. It’s not like I’m going out wearing a bin liner, is it? And hello! I have a boyfriend. I can’t be getting it too badly wrong.’

  ‘Ollie lives in sports gear too,’ Mum began, but stopped when I glared at her. ‘All right, sorry, I know this isn’t the time. Look, why don’t I drive you over? Have a word with the nurses and see if we can find out more about what’s going on.’

  ‘Can do that myself, thanks.’

  ‘I’m only trying to help.’

  Something about the way she said it made me see red. Before I could think better of it, I said, ‘That makes a change.’

  Mum went quiet. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh come on, Mum! You weren’t too concerned about how upset I was last night. You’re only being nice now cos it’s convenient. Let’s face it – you never notice anything to do with me or Benno unless it suits. When was the last time you said, “Well done,” to either of us?’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Mum began, but I carried on.

  ‘When we have problems, they’re not “im
portant”. You don’t have the time, you’re tired, we should take care of ourselves. Fine, I can, but Benno’s only eleven. I’m more of a mum to him than you are!’

  Mum’s expression showed no hint of emotion. The only sign that I’d got through was her hand. It moved from the banister to smooth down her dress. ‘What exactly are you trying to say, Imogen?’

  ‘Think about it. It’s not that hard. On top of this, you’re a hypocrite. Dad too, though he’s practically the invisible man these days. We all know what happened back in Kent, when Dad went away for a few months. You’re not these perfect people you pretend you are.’

  ‘I’m going to ignore this,’ Mum said, very slowly. ‘You’re upset, and when you’re upset it’s very easy to lash out at those closest to you –’

  Stop talking to me like you’re a counsellor! I thought. I’m telling you what’s wrong and you’re not hearing. Even as I spoke, I knew what I was saying would really hurt her. ‘That would be you? Sure.’

  ‘I think you should go before this gets worse,’ Mum said. ‘When you come back, you can apologize, and we can talk like grown-ups. I don’t expect stroppy, immature behaviour from you, Imogen.’

  Yeah, that’s right, I thought. I’m just throwing a silly strop. Forget that I’m pretty much a model daughter who never complains, who’d never act like this unless she meant it.

  Dad appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing you need to get involved with, Andrew,’ Mum snapped. ‘Imogen’s just leaving.’

  Dad looked between us. ‘Do you want to talk, Immy? Would that help?’

  I shook my head. I was too mad to talk and I doubted Dad would understand. Mum really didn’t know me at all. I could have said all this, but sometimes you reach a level of anger where the only thing you can do is leave.

  By the time I got to Whipps Cross Hospital it was early afternoon. The wards were confusing and it took me a while to find Nadina. I felt awkward as the nurse showed me to her bed.

  Nads was lying propped up by pillows with her mum holding her hand. I’d seen loads of other members of her vast family in one of the waiting rooms. I managed not to wince. I’d known she’d look bad but this was proper rough. Her face was bloated and swollen. I could tell there’d been blood around her mouth and one ear. Her jaw was heavily bandaged.

  Nadina’s eyes met mine. I waved. Nads raised her free hand and pointed to her mouth, shaking her head.

  ‘Change to see you speechless,’ I said. ‘Better make the most of it while it lasts, eh?’

  Nadina flipped her finger at me.

  ‘Enough, no jokes,’ Nadina’s mother scolded. She explained that laughing was the worst thing Nadina could do right now. The surgeons had placed wires in her jaw and bound it in place. The bandages would be off in a day or two, and the wires in six weeks – but laughing or chewing or shouting might cause problems.

  She went out to get a hot drink, leaving us alone.

  I settled into her chair and cleared my throat. ‘Gutted this has happened to you, babe,’ I said in a low voice. I wasn’t sure why I was whispering. Because I felt weird being this touchy-feely? ‘Us being friends is really important to me, y’know? I’m so glad it didn’t end up worse. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve got a sense of humour after this. Sometimes I guess things are so crap all you can do is laugh, right?’

  Nadina gave a thumbs-up. I moved to hug her, then stopped as I realized I’d knock the bandages. Nads rolled her eyes and I laughed. Suddenly things felt a lot more comfortable between us. Weird, I thought. Right now we couldn’t communicate properly. And yet somehow I’d managed to say more to her than I ever had before.

  Nadina mimed. I realized she was pretending to speak on a phone.

  ‘Want your mobile?’

  She pointed at me. I took mine out of my pocket. Nadina held out her hand. I gave it over and she started pressing buttons. I realized she was texting.

  ‘Nads . . .’ I said, suddenly wary. She ignored me. After about a minute, she handed my phone back. She’d written me a message on the New Text screen.

  Gotta say sorry 2 u. I did something really crap that makes me a bad mate. Forgive me Im?

  She was looking away. Moisture glistened in her eyes. So she had blabbed to Ollie about me going to Sam’s!

  My insides knotted in hurt. Yet despite that, I couldn’t bring myself to let rip. I cared more about Nads than I was mad right now.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said, meeting her eyes. ‘It’s happened, I can deal with it, and I don’t want you stressing. I’m not mad.’

  Nadina seemed to sag in relief. She traced a smile over the bandage. To show I meant it, I smiled myself.

  I was just handing her my mobile so she could type something else when her mum returned. It was fine though. We’d said what we needed. I left. Outside it was beginning to drizzle. As I headed back the way I’d come I felt my mobile vibrate.

  Slowly and uneasily I took it out. But it was only Ollie, asking how Nadina was. I’d texted him earlier, telling him what had happened and that I was going to the hospital to see her and might not be able to see him until the afternoon.

  She’s battered but OK, I texted back.

  When I got out on to the main road I saw the bus I needed just leaving the stop. It would be a good fifteen minutes until the next one, knowing what Sunday service was like. Might as well walk instead. It would give me thinking time.

  Two weeks ago Sam had seen the attack on Hamdi Gul. He’d been close enough to be recognized. Mia, who was maybe a cousin, had been there too but hadn’t been part of the action. For whatever reason, Sam hadn’t gone to the police. The week after, he’d stayed in the house as much as possible, scared. He’d come out on Saturday night though – to find me. To tell me something, and not that he fancied me. Before we could talk, the accident had happened.

  The people who tried to run him down are the ones Sam saw in the shop, I thought. Murder didn’t seem such a farfetched explanation now Hamdi was dead.

  And after Sam disappeared I’d been chased and started getting those texts. Was what had been happening to me connected to Sam? If I could understand that, I might be able to do something.

  I turned the corner on to a quieter street and right into a gust of wind. Man, I could do with another layer. I decided to cut down another small road, a more direct route home. It was only further along that I realized I was being followed.

  This wasn’t me being jumpy. Out on the main road it had been less noticeable, but here it was obvious. What was more, the guy wore khaki. A coat I recognized from the park.

  Once again I felt my pulse race.

  Perhaps they’d come from the skatepark. It was just round the corner, a well-known spot for trouble to hang out. I should have been more cautious. Could I run? Or would it be better to pretend I hadn’t noticed? No, then he’d follow me home. If he didn’t already know where I lived, I wasn’t about to show him.

  Should I give over the phone? I could get another. It was just a thing after all. But would that be the end of it? And did I want to let him get close, down this quiet back street?

  That decided it.

  I broke into a run along the pavement towards a back alley that snaked behind the houses to the next street. If I sprinted through there, hopefully I could lose him on the other side. But he didn’t speed up. I looked back. No, I wasn’t wrong. He was walking. Had I got it wrong? Was I seeing things?

  Someone stepped directly into my path. I ran straight into him and would have gone flying if he hadn’t grabbed me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said breathlessly. ‘That was –’

  He grabbed my other wrist and dragged me towards him. Realizing the danger I was in, I stamped on his foot, trying to free myself. I work out enough to have muscle power, but this guy was strong. I couldn’t see much of him. He was wearing a hoody. A black hoody, with his face covered. The other guy from the park!

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the guy in khaki j
ogging up to join us. I kicked, trying as hard as I could to wriggle free. He let one of my arms go. Then his free hand punched me in the stomach. My body doubled up. Somehow the impact sent my glasses flying and I heard them clatter on the pavement. I stopped fighting. The other guy drew near.

  This is it, I thought.

  ‘It’s in my bag,’ I said. ‘Go on, take it.’

  The guy in khaki pulled the bag from my shoulder and turned it upside down. My purse, Oyster card, phone and all the other stuff I kept in there tumbled out. He grabbed the phone and flipped it open. I wanted to ask what it was he hoped to find. But even more I wanted to get out of this in one piece. So I stayed quiet.

  After what seemed ages, he chucked the phone away. It skidded across the pavement and over the kerb.

  ‘Yep. She’s not got it.’ he said. He sounded young, local. Rather like everyone at school. The only difference to his voice was a hard edge. One that said, Don’t mess.

  The other guy pushed me against the alley wall. Pain whammed up my back.

  ‘Your mate. Where is he?’

  ‘Which mate?’

  That earned me another jab to the stomach.

  ‘No jokes. You know.’

  They could only mean Sam. ‘Don’t know. No one does. Honest to God. He’s taken off.’

  ‘Don’t lie. Where’s he gone?’

  ‘If I knew, I’d tell you!’

  I sounded scared. Scared enough for them to exchange a glance. Then the guy in front of me leaned in close. I caught a snatch of blue eyes above the scarf covering his face. A stale smell clung to his clothes, the kind that hit you when you passed a grimy pub.

  ‘Listen up, Imogen Maxwell,’ he said. ‘You want to avoid trouble, you keep quiet. Same goes for your posh little mate. Tell him to give over what he’s got on us, fast. Cos wherever he is, he ain’t gonna be able to hide forever.’ He drew back, letting me go. ‘Wanna know why?’

  He paused. Realizing what he wanted, I said, ‘Why?’

  ‘Cos if he don’t play along – you’re the one who’s gonna get it. And your little brother. And one more thing . . .’ The guy leaned in again, even closer. ‘There are a lot of things we could do to ruin the life of a pretty girl like you. Know what I mean?’