'You've already said that. But you didn't want to see me after you'd been shot, so why now?'
'I was angry and blamed you for what happened to me – especially after you persuaded me to let Jude off the hook,' Minerva explained. 'And I'm really sorry about that. It was unfair.'
I shrugged. 'I understood.'
'Once I'd come out of the hospital, I did want to see you,' Minerva said. 'You're the one who disappeared. You moved out of your flat and no one knew where you were. It was like you'd vanished in a puff of smoke.'
'I was around.'
'Where?'
I shrugged, unwilling to say more. What was there to say? Well, actually, Minerva, if you think my old flat was bad, wait until you see this one. I'm now living in a poky, icy box of a bedsit, with not even a separate bedroom. Just a two-ring, countertop cooker, a sofa bed and a tiny, freezer-like bathroom.
And it's not funny how quickly money disappears when you have to pay bills and rent and buy essentials, like food and a baby carry-cot and nappies and a buggy and all the other stuff that babies need. I had about a month's money left and then I was going to be stony broke.
'Why didn't you come home after . . . after what happened with Jude?' Minerva asked.
'It isn't my home any more,' I told her.
'Yes, it is. We all want you to come back.'
'Minerva, after you were shot, you hardly spoke to me, so don't pretend I would've been welcomed home by you with open arms.'
'I told you, I was angry, but I soon got over it.'
I didn't.
'Mother and I miss you,' Minerva continued.
There wasn't much I could say to that, so I kept silent.
'I mean that,' Minerva said earnestly.
'How is Mother?' I asked.
'Fine. At least, she pretends to be.'
'Is she still drinking?'
'No,' Minerva surprised me by saying. 'Now that Dad has packed up and gone for good, I was more than worried that she might start again. But I doubt if she's even missing him. She's too busy regretting all the things that went wrong between the two of you.'
'I doubt it.'
'She is.'
'Have you left home yet?' I asked.
'No. I don't want to leave Mother all alone but she wouldn't be too cut up if I did. You were always her favourite,' said Minerva evenly.
I narrowed my eyes. 'What're you talking about? My entire life, all Mother ever did was wish I could be more like you.'
'Just talk,' Minerva dismissed. 'You answered back. You never did as you were told. Mother loved that. I'm the boring, obedient one. You're the free spirit.'
'You're talking crap,' I snapped. I had enough journeys of my own to make, without Minerva trying to take me on a guilt trip.
'Sephy, I'd been asking Mother if I could go to Chivers boarding school since I was at primary school. I never made it past Heathcroft High.'
'And it didn't occur to you that Mother was just happy to be rid of me?'
'Didn't it occur to you that Mother just can't say no to you? You wore her down after a few weeks. I couldn't do it even after five years.'
I wasn't about to jump onto the 'who had it the toughest' bandwagon. I lowered my gaze. Minerva sighed again, then smiled. 'What is it about you and me that means we always end up arguing?'
'Just lucky, I guess!'
Minerva started to laugh but it didn't last long. I so wanted her to be Minnie again, I really did. My sister glanced down at her watch.
'I have to go now,' she said. 'Sephy, is it . . . is it OK for Mother to visit?'
Ah! Now we had it.
'And no, before you ask – I'm not here just to ask if Mother can come and see you,' Minerva leapt in. 'I wanted to see you and meet my niece.'
'Fair enough,' I shrugged.
'So is it OK?'
I shrugged again. 'If she wants to visit, I can't stop her.'
'She won't come if it's going to upset you.'
'Tell her not to say a word against Callum and then I won't get upset,' I told my sister.
'Fair enough.' Minerva glanced down at her watch again.
'Where're you rushing off to then?' I asked.
'Job interview,' said Minerva.
'Where?'
'The Daily Shouter.'
'To do what?'
'Journalism,' said Minerva. 'I'm going to be a star reporter.'
'Well, excuse me all over the place!' There was no denying that I was impressed.
'I haven't got the job yet,' Minerva pointed out. 'But if I don't make it on to the Daily Shouter, I'll get on another national newspaper. It's just a matter of time. I'm very ambitious.'
'I didn't know you were interested in that kind of thing.'
'I was editor of the Heathcroft newsletter for two years – remember?'
'No,' I frowned. 'I don't actually.'
'That's because all you had eyes for back then was Callum. If he wasn't involved, you weren't interested.'
Which stung. But was nothing less than the truth.
'So you really want to be a journalist?' I asked.
'Yeah, I've been thinking about it more and more recently,' said Minerva.
'Print the truth or be damned, eh?'
'It's "print the truth and be damned",' Minerva corrected.
'But the truth will get a look in?'
'Another typical Sephy statement,' said Minerva.
'Sorry. That was snide,' I replied.
'Yes, it was.' Minerva smiled. 'But I'm a bitch to you and you're snide to me and that's the way we'll always be.'
I didn't deny it, but now that she'd said it out loud, it didn't seem so relentlessly awful any more. It was just the way we were with each other. But I did care about her. And in spite of everything, I think she cared about me.
'Well, good luck at your interview,' I ventured.
'Thanks.'
Minerva headed off down the ward before turning back after a couple of steps.
'By the way, Sephy,' said Minerva. 'You have a beautiful daughter.'
'I know,' I replied.
seventeen. Jude
I was going to phone her but I decided against it. I had a shower, put on some of my more expensive aftershave, a clean pair of black jeans, a matching black polo shirt and a black leather jacket and headed out the door. It was already on the hot side of warm outside. Another couple of hours and it'd be baking. I looked up at the blue sky and sighed. Maybe I should go back in and dump the leather jacket, but I couldn't be bothered. Besides, I knew I looked good in it.
Half an hour later I was standing outside Cara's hair-dressing shop. It was mid-morning and already the place was full. I could see a number of women having their hair cut or braided or corn-rowed or whatever it is women do in these places. Three women and a man stood above the various clients, chatting and smiling. The women hairdressers were Crosses, the male hairdresser was a nought – which surprised me no end. I watched through the window as they all got on with it.
And there was Cara, smiling via a wall mirror at one of her customers. A nought customer who was having her blonde hair braided. Cara must've said something hilarious because the woman creased up laughing. I debated whether or not to go in. But I needed money. And possibly a place to stay. And Cara could give me both. I walked into the shop.
'Can I help you, sir?' The woman on the reception desk pounced before I'd even closed the door.
'I'm here to see Cara,' I said.
'D'you have an appointment?'
'No, I don't.'
'I'm afraid we're really busy today.' The receptionist rushed into her apology. 'She won't be able to—'
'It's OK. This is my friend Steve.' Cara was already coming over to me, a big smile on her face. When she smiled it was like she lit up from within. She didn't just turn up her lips like some women I knew, she lifted her head and smiled with her eyes and her cheeks and her lips. And why shouldn't she? She was a Cross who had it easy. 'How are you?'
'Fine,' I replie
d. 'I hope you don't mind me dropping in.'
'No, of course not. I'm glad to see you,' said Cara.
And she really did look like she meant it. I didn't understand her at all. We were being bombarded by curious glances. I took a step forward, as well as a deep breath, before I could say the next thing. It didn't come easily asking a dagger for anything, and certainly not a date.
'I managed to get hold of two tickets for Destruction, that Daley Mercer film you wanted to see. I just wondered if you wanted to come with me?'
'When?'
'Tonight.'
'Oh, I'd love to, but we have late-night closing tonight,' said Cara regretfully. 'What time does the film start?'
I looked around. We were the floor show. All eyes were trained on us. I moved in closer to Cara so no one else would hear what I was saying. This was embarrassing enough as it was.
'Not until eight-fifteen.'
'I don't finish till after nine,' Cara said unhappily. 'I have to lock up after everyone else has gone.'
'Never mind. It was just an idea,' I said.
So much for that then. Maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as I'd first thought.
'Tell you what, why don't I cook a late dinner for us back at my place to make up for it?' said Cara. 'I have to warn you though, I'm not a very good cook.'
'I am,' I said truthfully. 'If you provide the ingredients, I'll do the cooking.'
'It's a deal.' Cara grinned enthusiastically. 'D'you want to meet me at my house?'
'No. I'll come here at nine,' I decided. 'Then I'll walk you home.'
'Thanks, Steve. I'll see you later then. And I'm sorry about the film.'
'Don't worry about it,' I said. 'See you later.'
And I headed out the door. I made sure to turn back and give her one last wave though. Girls like that sort of thing. How easy was this? Stupid, stupid cow. She called me her friend, but her saying it didn't make it so. She didn't know me from a bar of soap and already I was being invited back to her house. Tonight, she'd be the last one left in the shop to lock up. It'd be just me and her. I was looking forward to it. I was going to be teacher.
And Cara was going to learn that it really didn't pay to be quite so trusting.
eighteen. Sephy
Dearest Callie,
I got talking to the woman in the next bed to mine today. She only came in yesterday. She's really lovely. Her name is Roxie and I'd put her somewhere in her mid to late twenties – although I'm useless at judging people's ages. She had a son a couple of hours ago and she's leaving tomorrow. Lucky cow! I wish I could get out of here. But then I think about what I've got waiting for me, a horrible flat with a view of a brick wall out of the one and only window, and wonder why I'm in such a hurry to leave? I don't want to take you back there, Callie, but I've got no choice. I promise you this though, it'll only be for a little while. Once I get on my feet again, I'll get you the kind of place you deserve.
I thought Roxie was like me – no family. But I got that very wrong.
It was seven o'clock at night and I'd just finished feeding you. As I put you back in your cot, I looked up and Roxie caught my eye and smiled.
'Your daughter is very beautiful,' she said.
'I think so,' I replied. 'But then I'm biased!'
Swarms of people were beginning to flood down the ward.
'Are you expecting company?' I asked.
'I'm not sure. My partner's working in Sheeley up North and he can't get back until tomorrow afternoon.'
'What does he do?'
'He works for National Rail as a track layer so he's up and down the country, going where the work is,' Roxie replied. 'My brother and sisters might visit though.'
'How many sisters have you got?'
'Three.' Roxie smiled. 'And one brother, Jaxon. Oh, there he is.'
I looked down the ward and watched as a tall, blond man with shoulder-length hair marched down the middle of the ward like he owned it, a guitar slung across his back. The man didn't look much older than me. As he got closer, I saw he had blond eyebrows and, more strangely, blond eyelashes which made his eyes the first thing you noticed. His ice-blue eyes were oddly hypnotic, like a snake's eyes. They stood out because there seemed to be nothing for them to hide behind – or under.
'Hi, Sis!' Jaxon bent to kiss his sister's cheek before scooping his nephew out of her arms.
'Jaxon, this is Sephy. Sephy, this is Jaxon Robbins, my brother.'
'Hi, Jaxon,' I smiled.
He barely nodded in my direction, his attention on his family.
'So what's the sprog's name then?'
'My son's name is Sam,' Roxie said loftily, before giving me a long-suffering look. 'And he's not a sprog.'
'Sprog? What's that?' I asked.
'An ankle-biter, a little 'un, a rug rat, a—'
'Thank you, Jaxon. I think Sephy gets the idea,' Roxie interrupted.
'I've never heard any of those phrases before,' I smiled.
'That's because they're nought words. Not everything in our lives has been dictated by Crosses. We noughts have our own language, you know. We need to keep something that's just for ourselves,' said Jaxon, looking directly at me for the first time.
'Fair enough,' I told him after a pause.
'Is it? Is that what you really think?' Jaxon challenged. 'We use our own words, our own phrases, our own accents and we're told we're not talking properly, that we're inarticulate or illiterate.'
'I'd never say that,' I said.
'But you feel threatened, I bet. The words sound so similar, yet the meaning is so different,' said Jaxon. 'Our language is something you Crosses can't understand and can't control.'
'Jaxon, leave her alone,' Roxie rounded on him. 'Sephy, I'm sorry about him.'
'Don't worry about it,' I shrugged. 'Besides, I prefer plain speaking. Then everyone knows where they stand.'
I moved down to the cot because I could hear you gearing up for a cry.
'It's OK. Mummy's here,' I soothed, hugging you to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Roxie whispering something to her brother – and all the time he was listening, he kept looking at me. Ignoring him, I checked your nappy – which was loaded! Jaxon walked over as I was cleaning you up.
'If you want to rub that dirty nappy in my face, I wouldn't blame you,' he told me.
'Why on earth would I want to do that?' I laughed.
'Roxie's just told me who you are,' Jaxon admitted. 'I didn't recognize you. I didn't realize you were one of us.'
My smile wavered momentarily.
Us and them. Them and us.
Always the same. Never changing.
Jaxon looked down at my daughter and gave a start, the way most people did when they first saw her. She was too light to be all Cross and too dark to be all Nought.
'What's her name?'
'Callie Rose.'
'That's pretty. It suits her,' he said.
I just smiled. 'She's my rainbow child – like in the song.'
'What d'you mean?' Jaxon leaned forward for a closer look.
'I'm talking about all the colours she brings, not the colour she is,' I said.
'Oh, I see.'
'So where d'you play that thing?' I asked, pointing at his guitar.
'This?' Jaxon pulled the guitar round so that it was under his arm. 'I play any time, any place, any where.'
After a quick glance up and down the ward, I said, 'How about a tune then, to cheer us all up?'
I was only joking but Jaxon leapt on the suggestion immediately. 'Only if you join in!' he said.
'Suppose I can't sing?' I asked him.
'Even better,' Jaxon grinned.
Roxie shook her head. 'Sephy, please don't encourage him, because he really will do it.'
I looked up at Jaxon, who was smiling at me, and decided that Roxie was right. Jaxon looked like the kind of guy who went full-steam ahead one hundred per cent of the time.
'Well? You gonna chicken out?'
'You two aren't serious,' Roxie asked, aghast.
'Which song?' I smiled again.
'Suggest something,' said Jaxon.
'Rainbow Child? For all the new-borns in here.'
'Go for it,' said Jaxon. He began to strum his guitar.
Jaxon started singing, a challenge in his eyes as he looked at me.
'You bring a sweet embrace
And with the smile upon your face
You bring me grace, my rainbow child.
You bring me Autumn days,
Turn my face to golden rays,
You bring me bliss, my rainbow child.'
I took a deep breath and after the first couple of lines I joined in, quietly at first but picking up volume with each word. I saw Jaxon look at me in surprise when I started to sing. I knew he thought I'd lose my nerve. But then he smiled and we carried on singing together, getting louder.
'And what was life before you?
And do you know how I adore you?
And it scares me how I feel,
All my past scars fade and heal
When I hold my rainbow child.
'You bring a quiet time,
Life has meaning, thoughts have rhyme,
You bring me peace, my rainbow child.
You bring down all my fences,
You invade my heart and senses,
You bring me hope, my rainbow child.'
Jaxon had a good voice. Me? At first I just worried about keeping up and not forgetting the words. But then I kind of got into it. And by the end of the second verse, I was actually enjoying myself. And I wasn't even nervous any more. I mean, our singing wasn't raucous, it was just . . . heartfelt. Of course, by the time Jaxon and I hit the chorus for the first time, we had the full attention of everyone on the ward. And d'you know something? We didn't sound too bad. In fact I was amazed at how tuneful I sounded! I'd been in the choir at school but I was never one of the ones picked out for solos in school plays or concerts. I was always one of the chorus and happy enough with that. But here I was doing a duet and no one was throwing up. The others in the ward were actually smiling and clapping along. And even though Jaxon carried on singing, he was regarding me with the strangest expression on his face. But then I saw Nurse Solomon marching up the ward towards us.
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