Sticks and Stones

by Jo Jakeman

  Naomi joined me on the stairs, her hand brushing against the cold wall.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I hissed.

  Naomi gestured to the door and raised her eyebrows. She spoke quietly so that only I could hear. ‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to open the door and ask him what the fuck he’s playing at.’

  ‘Wait!’

  I grabbed her arm. I had a sense of being in immediate danger. The smell was making my breath catch in my throat and I swallowed hard. Naomi shook me off and started banging down the stairs.

  ‘Oi!’ she called.

  The letter box shut suddenly. Naomi turned back to me with a look that said, ‘See?’, as if all that was needed was to threaten to confront Phillip and he would go away.

  ‘Wait, Naomi. Wait! It’s petrol!’

  The letter box was opening again. A teardrop of flame hovered in the air long enough for me to think I could catch it; could save us all. I ran towards it, taking the steps two at a time, shoving Naomi to the wall. She looked at me open-mouthed as gravity took hold of the match and pulled it to the ground.

  TWENTY-NINE

  9 days before the funeral

  The flame spread with a deep hush and covered the hallway floor. I jumped back with one hand on the wall and one on the wooden railing. My immediate response was to retrace our steps. Naomi stumbled and crawled up the stairs on the tips of her fingers and toes. Already I could feel the heat from the flames, though they were still only inches high. They tickled the skirting board and I could see the paint beginning to blister. I thought, This is how I’m going to die.

  Statistics scrolled through my mind about more deaths coming from smoke inhalation than from the flames themselves. I couldn’t fight smoke any more than I could fight Phillip. Neither could be contained. It was an uncontrollable haze that seeped into your pores, your lungs, and choked you from the inside out.

  It would be reported as a tragedy, of course, and Phillip would be interviewed by the local rag as the grieving partner. And he would get everything he wanted – rid of us all; custody of his son; sympathy and revenge.

  I started to sway on my feet, panic causing me to stop breathing. The flames were roaring in my ears, stopping me from hearing my thoughts. Not again, and not now.

  There was a split second when I could have given in to the inevitability of the panic attack, as a streak of resignation ran through me like a seam of gold. But then I pictured Alistair’s face. I couldn’t let him be brought up in Phillip’s care – or lack of. The thought of my child cowering beneath his covers, crying, hurt, was enough to snap me to my senses. I ran back up the last few stairs and into the bathroom.

  ‘Ruby,’ I called. ‘Wet the towels in the en suite. Go!’

  I turned on the taps and threw the towels in the bath.

  Ruby didn’t move. She had her hand over her mouth and was leaning against the wall. The flames reflected in her eyes. She had shut down, gone somewhere else; somewhere of no use to me.

  Naomi pushed past with ‘I’ll do it’ and ran to the bedroom.

  With sodden towels, I ran to the bottom of the stairs, hesitated, then dropped the largest towel over the stretch of tile by my feet. It folded over at one corner and didn’t get the coverage I had hoped for. I threw the other one away from me, so that it landed by the door. They hissed. I stepped onto them and stamped over the wet material. Smoke was rising from the damp towels and I could feel the heat on the bottom of my feet, like stepping on hot springs. I coughed and held my forearm over my mouth.

  Naomi passed me and threw more towels on the floor. The flames were stroking the doorframe, encompassing it as if it was burning all around it, yet not touching the actual wood. The fire moved more quickly than I would have thought possible. The cheap towel fibres were melting and blackening instead of catching light. I stepped over the first towel and picked it up to beat the doorframe. Naomi was running back up the stairs for more items to soak.

  Ruby had stumbled up behind me. She was making strange sounds in the back of her throat, as if her mouth was too tightly clamped to let words out.

  ‘Ruby, call 999.’

  The flames squatted and lost some of their potency – if only we could keep on top of them. I began to cough, a rough retch from the base of my stomach, clearing nothing and only causing me to pull the tainted air deeper into my lungs, which started the hacking all over again. The air was thick with smoke. My eyes were watering and it was hard to see where I should be directing my efforts.

  ‘Ruby!’ I spluttered. ‘The phone!’

  She seemed to snap to and, hopping over the towels, pulled her dress up as if she was paddling in the sea.

  ‘And then come back with wet tea towels,’ I shouted. ‘If this … gets out of hand. The window. Get out that way.’

  Naomi thundered down the stairs with a dripping blanket in her hands.

  ‘What? Jump right into Phillip’s arms? No, ta.’

  I took my yellow coat off the peg by the door and started smacking at the flames on the doorframe. Even though they were dying down, the air was thick. I pulled the neckline of my top over my mouth and blinked against the stinging. I took shallow breaths, fighting against inhaling the smoke again.

  ‘Ruby?’ I shouted. ‘Have you called them?’

  There was no answer.

  The fire was spluttering, dying. The towels smouldered. Naomi pulled them into a pile, showing blackened tiles beneath and bubbled paint on the back of the front door.

  ‘D’ya think we’ve got it all?’

  ‘Yeah. Think so.’

  ‘Lucky you got tiles. I’d’ve been screwed.’ Naomi slumped against the wall and wiped her hair back off her face and laughed bitterly.

  I hurried into the kitchen where it was cooler. The back door was open and the keys were in the lock. Old keys with a bejewelled cat on the key ring – ones I’d not used in years. I faltered momentarily; began to speak and thought better of it. One thing at a time. I began running water into the washing-up bowl and, as it was filling, immersed the tea towels in the cool liquid. I kept my eye on the back door; glad of the breeze and the fresh air, but feeling betrayed and fearful. Ruby had the spare key and had used it to save herself. How many times would I be betrayed before I realised that I couldn’t trust anyone?

  Leaving the water running, I ran back into the hallway and dropped the tea towels in the entrance to the living room. I motioned to Naomi to follow me and we went into the kitchen.

  ‘Ruby’s gone,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The door’s open.’

  ‘She had the keys?’ Naomi put her head in her hands and I thought she was going to cry, but when her face came back up again, it was twisted with rage.

  ‘I knew it. Bloody knew it. Didn’t I say? I knew she was helping him. They were in it all along – she knew he were going to set fire to the place. I tell you, she had me fooled.’ Naomi shook her head and swore under her breath.

  I switched off the running tap and lifted the full bowl of water. In the doorway of the hall I splashed it over the floor.

  ‘What you going to do now?’ Naomi asked.

  ‘Call the police. He won’t stop until we’re dead. The only hope we’ve got is that they can catch Phillip for setting the fire. I think we can prove it’s attempted murder.’

  ‘Not gonna happen. He’ll get off with it, like he always does. Ruby’ll give him an alibi, and he’ll go free. We should go after him ourselves. He can’t get away wi’ what he’s done to us. And neither should she. Double-crossing bitch.’

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the door. I wanted to rush out into the open but was scared of what I might find.

  As if reading my mind, Naomi said, ‘He’s long gone. And he’s taken her with him. They deserve each other.’

  She held out her hand and dragged me outside.

  ‘Come on, this air’s no good for you. More people die of smoke inhalation than of fire. I bet you didn’t—’The security
light snapped on as we fell into the damp night air. ‘Christ!’

  I spun round so quickly that I fell against the wall. At the edge of the light’s reach was a pale-faced and haggard Phillip.

  THIRTY

  9 days before the funeral

  Phillip had a bitter look on his face and his mouth was curled into a sneer. His hands were down by his side, clenched into knuckle-whitening fists. He lurched forward, taking small, reticent steps.

  Moths flitted around him, having a dog-fight in and out of the halo of gold from the security light. A tentative cough behind him had him half-turning, but he was pushed forward again. Ruby stepped into the light.

  I reached behind me, but I couldn’t remember where I’d left the knife. It had been in my hand, and then I’d noticed the fire and nothing else mattered. I was defenceless.

  Naomi said nothing. She was mesmerised by the sight of Phillip and Ruby. Neither of us could comprehend what this meant or why they were still here. I started to back away, wondering where my phone was, whether I could scream for help.

  Ruby’s right hand was raised in line with her eye, holding something I couldn’t see. In her left was a red container with a black spout. The kind you get from the garage when your car has run out of petrol two miles down the road. I should have filled up my car when I’d had the chance, because Phillip having to refuel had worked against me. The breakdown that I’d hoped for had nearly resulted in my death.

  You bastard!

  The hair on one side of Phillip’s head was wet, plastered to his face. His collar was stained dark and his top clung to him, showing the outline of his arm muscles. He reeked of petrol.

  ‘Move!’ Ruby said to him, and splashed the liquid at his back. She skirted him as if he were a dangerous animal.

  There was something off about the way she was talking to him. Ruby wasn’t helping Phillip any more.

  ‘Ruby? What’s going on?’ I asked.

  ‘You won’t do it,’ Phillip said to Ruby, as if I hadn’t spoken. His voice was tight and his entire body taut with malice. I realised then that the item in Ruby’s right hand was Naomi’s lighter.

  ‘I trusted you,’ Ruby said to Phillip. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. Her thumb clicked the lighter and, though it failed to light, Phillip flinched.

  Ruby’s face had changed. Gone were the crinkling eyes and the soft lips. Her face seemed more angular in the shadows. Her eyes were glaring and dark. She stood with her feet apart, sturdy and strong, and kept flicking her head, like she was disagreeing with voices in her head.

  ‘Ruby?’ I asked again.

  Naomi had stepped away from us all. She could make a dash for it now and get help. I gave her a small nod. Do it. But she shook her head, captivated by the scene playing out in front of us.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Ruby said, but I couldn’t tell if she was talking to me or Phillip.

  Phillip looked at her with disgust and curled his lip at her.

  ‘He … he made me think … I thought you were plotting to take his son away from him. And the house. He told me that you wouldn’t be happy until you’d destroyed him. It didn’t sound fair. I swear I was only trying to do the right thing.’

  She didn’t take her eyes off Phillip. Fairness was important to Ruby. Loyalty even more so. Her loyalty had been thrown back in her face. Phillip had been wrong to drag her into his scheme and then leave her to die.

  ‘He tried to kill us all,’ she said. ‘Me! Me – who’d helped him. I never expected …’ Her voice broke.

  ‘Get in!’ said Naomi, punching the air. ‘I’ll get the cuffs.’

  She ran into the house and I heard her pull open the door to the cellar and switch the light on.

  ‘Wait! I don’t understand,’ I said. I’d been fooled too many times and I wouldn’t let it happen again.

  I stepped backwards until the back of my ankles found the doorstep. I slumped down onto it. My legs didn’t have the strength to hold me up. I was shaking. I watched the scene in front of me as if it was happening to someone else. The energy drained out of me and I felt light-headed. It was almost too much to process. Phillip had tried to kill us and now he was back, but this time we held the power.

  He glared at me as Ruby pushed him into the kitchen. The stench of the petrol caused me to gag as he passed me. Ruby was muttering something in his ear, but I couldn’t hear anything above my hammering heart.

  I pulled myself back up to watch as Naomi reappeared and cuffed his hands together. Ruby stood by Phillip with the lighter and a faint smile on her face. Satisfied, Naomi stepped back and picked up the knife from where I’d dropped it when I was running to get water.

  ‘Go on,’ she said to Phillip, ‘give me a reason to use this.’

  ‘I’m not going back down there,’ he said.

  ‘Your choice. But I reckon it’s better than the alternative.’ She tilted her head at Ruby. Phillip took a couple of steps towards the cellar.

  ‘Ruby,’ said Phillip, imploring, ‘you know I never meant to hurt you. It all got out of hand. You’re better than this. Better than them. Put the lighter away.’

  In response Ruby gave the lighter a shake and lit it. Phillip winced and then tried to laugh it off, like he wasn’t worried.

  ‘You’re not thinking straight,’ he said. He shook his head and went through the cellar door as if he was doing so out of choice, not because he was being forced.

  I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the step. I stared into the garden. The overgrown lawn, the discarded toys – everything so normal, and yet nothing was. I sat so still that the security light clicked off. A rectangle of light fell from the back door out into the night, my hunched shadow at its base.

  I could hear the faint murmuring of voices from the cellar. They were clipped and harsh. Ruby’s soft spot for Phillip had hardened. It took a lot to lose her trust, and Phillip had broken it with a finality that could have been fatal.

  I heard Ruby and Naomi come out of the cellar and bolt the door behind them. They joined me in the garden and the light clicked on again.

  ‘I truly am so very sorry,’ Ruby said. ‘You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now.’

  There were pale lines down her face where her tears had washed away the smoke residue.

  Naomi pulled over two wooden garden chairs and they sat down. She put her hand out for Ruby to drop the lighter into the palm of her hand, then took her cigarettes from her pocket and lit up. Sucking deeply and blowing away the smoke through the side of her mouth.

  ‘Where did you find the keys to open the door?’ I asked. My throat was scratchy and my voice was weak.

  I wasn’t angry, just curious. From now on, I wanted to know everything.

  ‘Phillip told me on the phone where you kept the spare keys,’ she said.

  I noticed that she was calling him Phillip now. Gone was the endearing and familiar nickname of Pip. On her lips ‘Phillip’ sounded like an angry parent using his full name in order to chastise, and to show just how much trouble he was in.

  ‘Go on,’ I said.

  ‘He didn’t think you trusted me. I had the spare set, in case I needed them to unlock the door for him to sneak in while we were looking at the car. Not that I knew that’s what he was going to do, of course. I hadn’t got round to putting the keys back; you barely left me alone for a minute, so I still had them in my pocket when he set fire to the house.’

  ‘And what?’ said Naomi. ‘You thought, “I know, I’ll go and threaten to set fire to the bastard?” Was that it?’ She sucked on her cigarette, the orange tip glowing like a beacon. She was going to take some convincing. Ruby had let both of us down.

  ‘I don’t know. I was furious. I would have taken the knife, if I’d seen it, but the lighter was just there. I didn’t expect Phillip still to be there, really. I thought he would have run. I didn’t have a plan, I just wanted to confront him. Picking up your lighter was a pointless thing to do at the time. I had some stupid idea that I coul
d use it as a weapon, but when I got outside I thought, “You silly woman, how’s that meant to scare him?” and I almost threw it away. And when I got round the side of the house, he was crouched down, watching, with the petrol can behind him. His face … You should have seen his face. He was smiling.’

  Her voice cracked and she began to cry. Naomi put her arm around Ruby’s shoulders.

  ‘I picked up the petrol can,’ Ruby continued, swallowing back her sobs, ‘and looked at the lighter and it all came together. That was that, really.’

  ‘He can’t have thought you would go through with it, though,’ Naomi said.

  ‘Oh, but that’s the thing,’ said Ruby. ‘I would’ve done.’

  I looked up to the sky. It was much like it had been on the night of the car accident – warmer perhaps, but just as endless. I believed Ruby. Despite what she had done earlier, I didn’t believe that even a loyalty like hers would stand the test of attempted murder. I nearly asked her about the night of the accident, but I’d had all the betrayal I could stand for one night.

  ‘We can’t let him go again,’ I said.

  The other two nodded.

  ‘But we can’t keep him locked up indefinitely.’

  Naomi shrugged, like she’d heard worse ideas, and said, ‘Then what the hell are we going do with him?’

  THIRTY-ONE

  5 years, 5 months and 1 day before the funeral

  Naomi got a buzz from arguing. It was something she excelled at. Half a dozen therapists had told her she was sick. Anger issues, they called it. Anger issues? She didn’t have any issues with being angry. And if any of them were in the same situation as her, they’d be angry too. Sitting in a hospital. On her own. Knocked up. Who wouldn’t be angry?

  There was a feeling inside her, when she raised her voice, like the bubbling of a stream. Her arms became an extension of her anger; lightning rods for the fury, which would burn her from the inside out, if she didn’t let it free. If she couldn’t find someone to argue with – and sometimes the goody-goodies refused to – then she would re-create that feeling by pulling a sharp blade over the pale part of her arm. She had learned quickly that if she shouted and screamed, they would fold themselves small and back away, but if she cut herself, they would send her some place new. She would rather be sent away before they got bored of her. If you jumped before you were pushed, at least you had a chance of a decent landing.