Saving Silence

by Gina Blaxill

  I took the bowl and closed my hands round it. I wasn’t hungry, but the warmth was comforting.

  SAM

  SUNDAY 17 NOVEMBER

  It was five minutes past eight when the call finally came.

  Imogen carefully put her uneaten bowl of soup on the bedside table. She let the phone ring six times before picking up. She said this would show them we weren’t total putty in their hands.

  ‘Are you alone?’ The gravelly voice on the other end made me shiver. We’d agreed that she’d put the call on to speakerphone straight away.

  ‘I’m with Sam,’ Imogen said. ‘Is that a problem?’

  The way she said it was like the problem was all theirs. Like a challenge. I couldn’t help admiring her cool.

  ‘We’ve got your boyfriend. He ain’t very comfortable. And he ain’t gonna get any more comfortable unless you cooperate.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Put your mate on the line.’

  Imogen looked at me. Don’t blow it, her expression said. I leaned towards the phone. My voice came out sounding shaky.

  ‘Sam here.’

  ‘We’re not gonna piss about, and neither are you, got it?’ The voice was suddenly very sharp, noticeably aggressive, the kind of voice that belonged to someone who’d beat you to pulp and laugh about it afterwards. ‘We know exactly what you saw and we know that you got a video. Who’ve you sent it to? No lying or smart games, cos we will find out. And then you’ll be dead.’

  ‘I’ve not sent it to anyone. It’s just on my phone. I’m the only person who’s seen it.’

  ‘You expect us to believe that?’

  Imogen placed a hand on my shoulder. Whether she was warning or encouraging me I couldn’t tell.

  ‘Yeah. That is, I mean, I was too scared to do anything with it . . .’

  The laughter on the other end of the phone was so loud that Imogen and I both flinched.

  ‘So there’s just the one copy? You’ve not backed it up anywhere?’

  ‘No. Just the one.’

  ‘You’d better be sure about that.’

  There was a very clear threat in those words. ‘Just the one,’ I repeated. There was a tense moment as I waited to see if they would believe me.

  ‘Good boy,’ the voice mocked. ‘And now you’re gonna delete it. Right here, right now, when I say so.’

  Imogen sucked her breath in sharply. I knew what she was thinking. The only evidence of the attack on Hamdi Gul – gone.

  ‘Need a few moments to think about whether you’re gonna cooperate?’ The voice said teasingly. ‘Want us to persuade you?’

  There was a scuffling and then Ollie’s voice came on the line. ‘He’s really not joking. If you don’t delete that video, they’re going to kick my head in.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Imogen cried. Ollie didn’t sound that different to me, but she’d paled the instant he’d spoken. ‘Ollie, what happened? Are you OK?’

  ‘Tell them,’ someone said in the background. There was a heavy thud followed by the muffled sound of Ollie crying out. Imogen made a hissing noise. I stared at the opposite wall. The terrified look on her face freaked me out.

  ‘They cornered me.’ Ollie growled from the handset. ‘They knew I was your boyfriend. They made me tell them what you’d told me.’

  ‘And how did we make you?’ hissed the voice.

  Ollie paused. ‘Forcefully.’

  Imogen dug her fingers into the mattress we were sitting on, her lips pressed together tightly. If those guys had been here now, I wasn’t so sure she’d have been holding her anger in so well. I had a feeling she’d have gone for them.

  ‘You’ve got to delete it, Sam,’ she said.

  I hesitated.

  ‘It won’t just be Ollie’s good looks we ruin if you don’t play ball,’ the voice went on. ‘We know where you live, Sammy. You can’t hide indoors forever. First we’ll grab your skinny dog and cut it up in front of you. Then we’ll make you wish you’d never been born. As for your pretty blonde mate . . . she knows the score. Bad things can happen in the back streets of Walthamstow. Especially to kids like you . . .’ A pause. ‘If we find out you’ve lied to us . . .’

  ‘Sam!’ Imogen hissed, giving me a shove. ‘Just delete the bloody thing!’ To the guy on the phone, she said, ‘You promise that you’ll let Ollie go? That you won’t hurt my brother? I’ll film Sam deleting the video on my phone and send it through to you as proof.’

  There was a pause. Then the guy’s voice came over, sounding amused. ‘You do that. Top marks, Head Girl.’

  ‘Head prefect,’ Imogen muttered. More clearly she said, ‘How do we know you’re going to release Ollie if we do this?’

  ‘Just trust me, baby.’

  Imogen swore under her breath. ‘Ollie, call the moment you get released, OK?’

  ‘Think we understand each other now,’ the guy said. ‘Now, I’m gonna put the phone down so you can make your video. I want you to send it through to your boyfriend. You’ve got five minutes.’

  The line went dead.

  Imogen and I looked at each other for a long time. I realized we were both shaking. Gradually I became aware of the everyday things I’d blanked out – the beat of music, how warm it was in here . . .

  ‘Well,’ Imogen said, her voice noticeably more wobbly, ‘that went well.’

  ‘Yeah. Brilliantly.’

  ‘They’re not kidding, Sam.’ She pushed her hair back, then raised her phone. ‘Let’s do this. Don’t think we need five minutes, do you?’

  ‘You care about Ollie,’ I said softly. ‘Right?’

  ‘Sam, don’t give me this now. Just do it!’

  I looked at the screen. It had the video loaded. I turned my phone over in my hand, thinking. Imogen hadn’t seen the video. If she had, would she still be acting this way? Should I show it to her? Change everything?

  But then I pictured the spark of terror I’d seen in her eyes when her brother had been mentioned. Imogen really loved Benno. I could go to the police and we might get these guys locked up, but then what? They’d just send someone else to attack Benno and Jessie and us. They were proper nutters. They didn’t care about anyone or anything.

  ‘It’s not the right thing to do though, is it?’ I said. I couldn’t help myself. I was thinking of Mum and what she’d say about what I was about to do. ‘Letting the bad guys get away with murder – it’s wrong. People like that don’t stop. They’ll go on to hurt other people. They hurt Nadina. Who’s next?’

  ‘Maybe they’ll get caught! I don’t like letting them win, but I have to protect my family. If that makes me a rubbish human being, fine, I am. I don’t care any more.’ Imogen’s cheeks flushed. ‘Right and wrong – they don’t matter now. It’s too complicated. From where I’m sitting, all I see is grey. And a shedload of reasons for you to just press delete!’

  I gazed at Imogen and thought about how much I’d respected her for all the things she’d done at school. How calm and collected she was. That almost robotic, unemotional manner of hers. Putting down the people who’d cyber-bullied me, trying to welcome the strange new ungrateful northern kid. A leader. A good person.

  She didn’t look so cool now. She looked panicked.

  For a second I felt slightly disappointed in her.

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘But just so you know, I don’t agree when you say that right and wrong don’t matter any more. They always matter. Especially when things aren’t black and white. Maybe that makes me weird? I don’t know.’

  ‘And I don’t care,’ Imogen said softly.

  I paused. ‘Are you ready to start recording?’

  IMOGEN

  SUNDAY 17 NOVEMBER

  We did it.

  ‘There’s no going back now,’ I said as the video I’d made of Sam deleting the footage pinged through to Ollie’s email account. Sam said nothing. He’d surprised me during the last half-hour. I’d expected him to really freak out. As for all that about right and wrong . . . I felt
my throat tighten. It’s fine to lecture me, Sam. There’s not as much at stake for you. I didn’t like selling out. But I had no choice.

  Sam had taken off his coat but not his scarf. It was half falling off, trailing on the floor. It struck me that I didn’t know any other boys like Sam. The ones I’d grown up with were all swagger and mouth, trying to prove how tough they were. It was interesting to get to know someone more sensitive, even if he was harder to figure out.

  ‘You’re a funny one.’

  Sam gave me a small smile which had very little warmth to it. ‘I’m very ordinary, Imo.’

  No else called me Imo. Im or Immy, but never Imo. I picked up my bowl of uneaten soup. It was still slightly warm. I started eating. Now that the adrenalin of the call had worn off, my body was sagging.

  We’d sent the video ten minutes ago. What was keeping them?

  My thoughts slipped back to the start of Year 11, when I’d first got to know Ollie. We’d had a Coke together after our first school-council meeting. I hadn’t known him before then, but I knew who he was. A lot of my mates fancied him, including Nadina. Funnily enough, I hadn’t. Maybe it was his haircut that had put me off. It had been longer then, with a stupid fringe he kept flicking out of his eyes. Over our drinks I’d told him he ought to cut it. He’d laughed and said he ought to turn cutting it off into a sponsored charity event. Later on he’d done just that.

  I soon discovered we had lots in common.

  ‘Listening to you two is like two blokes,’ Nadina had huffed. ‘You must be the only girl in the school who forgets she’s female around Ollie.’

  She and the other girls kept asking about us. It was clear that no one believed that we were just chatting. ‘Prefect meetings’ even became code for making out for a while. ‘My boyfriend and I are having a prefect meeting tonight,’ girls would say, nudging their friends.

  I also tended to run into Ollie after school on Mondays, when the nearby sports centre admitted kids from our school for free. After a while I learned to ignore the constant questions.

  When had things moved to another level? I had to think for a second. It had been right at the end of the year, almost four months ago now. We’d been chatting in the sports-centre foyer when a mate of Ollie’s passed by.

  ‘When are you getting together?’ he’d yelled. ‘Perfect match, smooch smooch!’

  He was gone before we could retaliate.

  ‘Your mates too, huh?’ I asked.

  Ollie rolled his eyes. ‘They’ve been at it all year. So old now.’

  ‘Maybe we should give it a go and shut everyone up.’ I’d meant it as a joke, but as soon as it was out we both paused.

  Ollie broke the silence. ‘It’s not the worst idea. Why not?’ He grinned. ‘I mean, you’re no Rihanna, but you’re all right, y’know.’

  ‘Charming!’ I gave him a shove. It developed into play-fight that ended with him pinning me against the side of the vending machine.

  I pretended to huff and look annoyed. ‘OK, you win. I’ll let that insult slide. But next time you’d better describe me as more than all right. Got it?’

  ‘Got it.’ Ollie let me go. ‘Wanna come to my game tomorrow then? Could stop by the diner afterwards.’

  After that, we’d never looked back. No one seemed surprised that we’d become an item. Having a boyfriend turned out to be fun, sort of like having a good friend you also made out with. We weren’t all over each other, but that wasn’t our style. Nadina wanted the lowdown on Ollie. Was he a good kisser? Did he give me that excited feeling in my stomach? I avoided answering because I didn’t really know. He was better than the couple of other guys I’d kissed. He didn’t set my world on fire, but did that ever actually happen apart from in films?

  I put the now empty bowl of soup down, feeling anxious. ‘Why hasn’t he called?’

  ‘There could be loads of reasons. Maybe they made him promise not to until he’s well away. Or maybe they’ve taken his phone. It’s got the video you made on it, after all. They might want it.’

  Sam had a point. ‘Do you think I should call him?’

  ‘If they have his phone then that’s probably not the best idea. Wait for him to call you,’ Sam said firmly. ‘I’m sure he’s OK. Ollie’s a tough guy.’

  ‘You’re doing a pathetic job of reassuring me,’ I said with a tiny smile.

  Sam smiled back. ‘It’ll be OK.’

  I sighed, glancing at my phone. Sam said something about being back in a moment. Just one call, I thought. Then this nightmare would be over.

  SAM

  SUNDAY 17 NOVEMBER

  Downstairs Harrison and his housemates were heading out. When I told him that Imogen might end up staying over as well as me, they fell about laughing. Was the idea that I had a friend who was a girl really such a tremendous joke?

  In the kitchen I found a pile of dirty plates on the counter. More because I needed something to do than because I wanted to be helpful, I shifted everything on to the draining board and turned on the hot tap. The washing-up liquid bottle made a hiccupping noise as I squirted it into the water. So mundane. So normal. So outside what I’d known for the past two weeks.

  I could see my reflection faintly in the tiles behind the taps. I stared at my face. This was me. An ordinary-looking guy, a loner – someone not entirely sure who he was any more.

  A bit of a waste of space.

  I picked up the first plate, then put it down again.

  I don’t want to be a waste of space any more, I thought.

  It suddenly seemed deadly intense in the kitchen. Now had become one of those very important moments.

  There was a choice I needed to make. An important one. I knew something no one else did. And it would change everything.

  IMOGEN

  SUNDAY 17 NOVEMBER

  Nine turned to half nine to ten. Finally my phone rang. I grabbed it.

  ‘Ollie!’

  ‘No,’ Mum said. ‘Where are you, Imogen?’

  I realized there was no way I was going to be back in London tonight, or going to school tomorrow. For a second I wondered why Mum sounded so miffed. Then I remembered our argument. Man, had that really only been a few hours back?

  ‘I’ve been worried.’ Mum’s tone switched to concern. ‘It’s not like you to blow up like that. Maybe I was a bit harsh. Look, come home and we can talk . . . sort things out.’ She paused; I heard mumbling in the background and Mum said, ‘No, I’ll deal with this, Andrew. OK?’

  Poor Dad, getting flack from Mum that was meant for me. But Dad interrupting had given me a moment to think. ‘I’m not going to be back tonight. I’m staying at Kimmie’s.’ I lied. Kimmie was a mate Mum had met, but she didn’t know where she lived. ‘Maybe we can talk tomorrow.’

  There was a silence. Then Mum made a huffing noise. ‘I could insist that you come back, but I won’t, if that’s the way you want it. But please, Imogen, try to be more mature next time. I can’t be dealing with you being silly as well as everything else. If you’re staying at a friend’s house, let me know. Don’t you care about your family?’

  ‘More than you’ll sodding ever know!’ I said, and cut the call. I felt tears in my eyes. She had absolutely no idea!

  The door creaked. Sam appeared, drying his hands on a tea towel. I shook my head before he asked.

  ‘I guess you’d better stay then.’ He tossed me a packet. ‘I brought the rest of Harry’s painkillers in case you need them.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, weirdly touched. I wasn’t used to people thinking of me.

  ‘We can head back tomorrow morning. It should be safe to return. Given we’ve deleted the video.’

  ‘We had good reasons.’ I realized that my eyes were still wet. Annoyed he’d seen me this way, I wiped them dry. ‘It’s done now.’

  ‘You don’t have to be so prickly. I’m not your enemy.’ Sam paused. ‘I might be able to help. If the idea of me giving you a hand isn’t too crazy. We should get some sleep. It’ll be better tomorrow, I
promise.’

  Despite myself, I laughed, though it was a sniffly, joyless kind of laugh. ‘Sleep? Fat chance.’

  Sam picked up his coat from the chair, spreading it out on the floor. ‘You’ve got to try. Can you pass me one of those pillows?’

  ‘You can’t sleep on the floor,’ I said. I shifted across on the bed. ‘Come on. There’s space for two here. No funny business though, OK?’

  Sam stared at me. ‘What? No.’

  ‘I’m not arguing about this,’ I said softly. ‘I don’t mind.’

  He hesitated a long moment. ‘If it’s really OK.’

  ‘It’s OK.’

  He came over, gingerly lying down beside me before reaching across and turning off the bedside lamp. We lay side by side, staring into the darkness.

  After a while I started to cry. I couldn’t help it. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Ollie at the station as we escaped. Leaving him in the hands of two murderers.

  I felt Sam shift beside me. I wasn’t sure how long it had been since we’d turned off the lights, but he’d been almost unnaturally still. ‘Imo, it’s going to work out.’

  ‘If they let Ollie go, he’d be home by now. Even if they took his phone and he hasn’t got my number written down anywhere, he could get it from one of our mates. Why hasn’t he called?’

  ‘I don’t know, but there’s no reason they’d hurt him, not now. They’re thugs, but I don’t think they’re total psychos. They’ve got what they wanted. He’ll be OK, Imo.’

  ‘They’re murderers! And I left him with them! All Ollie wanted was to help me.’ It was impossible to control myself. I was sobbing properly now, all the fear and anxiety of the evening taking over. Sam said stuff – about how it was going to be fine and how Ollie was tough and how tomorrow we’d know exactly what was going on. How long I cried into the pillow – or was it Sam’s shoulder? – I didn’t know. Somewhere along the line exhaustion caught up with me. Incredibly, I fell asleep.