Knife Edge

by Malorie Blackman

  And I handed it over. He immediately stuffed it into his trouser pocket.

  'Shall we go?' I smiled.

  Rhino, Jaxon and Sonny all stood there staring at me. But every trace of their earlier contempt had gone. This was much better!

  'I know you guys don't know me from a crisp packet but we all go through the same door, or we don't go in at all. OK?'

  'OK!' agreed Sonny with a smile.

  Outside the booing and cat-calls were almost as loud as the previous cheers and whistles.

  'We'd better get out of here before—' But I didn't get any further.

  'What the hell d'you think you're playing at?' Mr Kosslick had arrived with a couple of heavy-duty minders.

  The guys moved to stand in front of me, but I pushed my way through to stand with them.

  'We're not playing,' I told him.

  'You bitch! You were paid to play for me tonight,' said Mr Kosslick, glaring at me.

  'And we did. We played one track so we've fulfilled our part of the deal,' I told him.

  'I want my money back,' said Mr Kosslick, waving one of his muscle-heads forward.

  'I wouldn't do that if I were you,' I warned him as Sonny tried to push me back out of harm's way.

  'But you're not me – blanker-lover,' Kosslick hissed at me. 'I'm going to take pleasure in dealing with you personally—'

  'Try it,' I challenged. 'My real name is Persephone Hadley and my dad's Kamal Hadley, the Deputy Prime Minister. And I promise you, if any of us gets so much as a chipped fingernail, you'll all be swinging from a rope before the week's out. So just try it.'

  The muscle-head looked back at Mr Kosslick for guidance. Mr Kosslick didn't take his eyes off me. I looked straight back at him. He decided I wasn't bluffing.

  'Let them go,' he told his minions. Then he turned to me. 'But don't you ever set foot in my club again.'

  'Don't worry,' I said. 'We Midges are too good for this dump anyway.'

  'You haven't heard the last of this,' Mr Kosslick called after us. 'Especially you, Miss Hadley.'

  'I'm shaking,' I called back with contempt before we all entered the changing room.

  But here's the funny thing – I was shaking inside.

  We gathered up our stuff and left, across the stage and through the front door. And although we got a few boos and hand gestures, no one made a move to stop us. I have to say we got one or two genuine hand claps as well. One or two.

  No one spoke. It was as if each of us was holding our breath until we got out of the club. And only when we were outside on the street and walking back to the van at the back of the club did we all fall about with spontaneous laughter – brought on by relief more than anything else.

  'Oh my God! I thought we were dead!' I admitted.

  '"My father's the Deputy Prime Minister!"' mimicked Sonny. 'I thought you didn't want anyone to know who you really were?'

  'I don't. I didn't,' I shrugged. 'But I didn't fancy getting my head ripped off either, thank you very much. Sonny, don't forget that a quarter of that money in your pocket is mine.'

  'I won't forget,' Sonny said wryly.

  'Would your dad really have ridden to the rescue?' Jaxon asked.

  'Are you kidding?' I told him, my smile disappearing. 'He'd probably have held their coats for them.'

  I turned to Rhino, who hadn't said very much at all. My smile went unanswered, but I didn't mind. Rhino still didn't know what to make of me, but I wasn't public enemy number one any more. Maybe public enemy number two or three.

  'Sephy, I think I underestimated you,' said Sonny.

  And coming from him I knew it was a compliment. I didn't reply. I didn't need to.

  Like I said, no one would ever play me for a fool again.

  thirty-six. Jude

  I've done absolutely nothing this weekend. Just sat around the flat, watching telly and eating and scheming. Andrew Dorn, the traitor in the L.M. is back at the top of my priority list now. I have money. Now I just need to figure out how to get to him. I still have friends in a few L.M. cells. Friends who would go out on a limb for me. And others who might, if the price is right. I want to get as close as I can to Andrew Dorn. I want to be the one to make him pay.

  And I will.

  The news is coming on now. I can't believe it's so late. But I don't want to see the news again. It'll be the same old, same old. Except for one of the later items first announced this evening. News about the hunt for Cara Imega's murderer.

  Cara died this morning in hospital.

  thirty-seven. Sephy

  What a weekend! Yesterday's gig was a non-starter, but Jaxon phoned me earlier today to tell me another club, Russell's, has us booked for a fortnight on Saturday.

  'But Russell's is a Nought club, isn't it?' I asked.

  'Their money's just as good,' Jaxon told me icily.

  'That's not what I meant and you know it,' I said with patience. 'They're not going to want me in a Nought club.'

  'Once you start singing, they won't care,' said Jaxon.

  'Oh great! And that's meant to be reassuring, is it?'

  'You're worrying about nothing,' Jaxon dismissed.

  And after that, I knew it was pointless arguing with him. Russell's was a very popular club, frequented by Noughts. And it was one of the few clubs in town actually run by a Nought but that's all I knew about it.

  'Look, this gig was booked almost a month ago,' Jaxon said. 'Mind you, what happened at the Dew Drop Inn didn't hurt us.'

  'They know about that?' I asked, aghast.

  'Are you kidding?' Jaxon laughed. 'The word has already spread.'

  'Do they know who I really am?' I panicked.

  "Course not. You're Ridan, our lead vocalist, as far as anyone knows. But Russell's is the main rival around here to the Dew Drop Inn and Alice loves to get one up on them.'

  'Who's Alice?'

  'She owns Russell's,' Jaxon informed me.

  All kinds of bells were pealing in my head.

  'Besides you can't drop out now. We need the money,' said Jaxon.

  And he had a point. The money from the Dew Drop Inn wouldn't last very long at all. But I couldn't stop those warning bells jangling. Jaxon and I discussed our rehearsal dates and that was the next gig sorted out. Now I just needed to sort out the rest of my life.

  I've decided to stop breast-feeding Rose. I've been feeding her myself for a few weeks now. I think that's long enough.

  'I thought you were going to feed Callie yourself for a year, not a couple of weeks,' Meggie argued when I told her.

  'The sooner she starts feeding from a bottle the better,' I replied. 'Then you can feed her and look after her whilst I'm out working.'

  'I'm not her mother, Sephy,' said Meggie.

  'Meaning?'

  'Meaning feeding her and looking after her is your job,' said Meggie. 'I offered to help, not to take over.'

  'Rose is your granddaughter,' I pointed out icily. 'Callum's precious child. But if you don't want to look after her, just say so.'

  'I never said that. And isn't she your precious child too?' Meggie asked with sarcasm.

  'What's that supposed to mean?' I frowned.

  'It means Callie's a baby and she needs her mother.'

  'I'm here, aren't I?' I shouted at her. 'And apart from a couple of rehearsals and my gig on Saturday, have I been anywhere without her?'

  Meggie regarded me. 'You're determined to pick a fight with someone, Sephy, but it's not going to be me.'

  'I wouldn't start an argument with you, Meggie. After all, it might give you an excuse to turn on me the way Callum did.'

  Meggie handed Rose back to me, saying frostily, 'I have to go shopping.'

  Our first major disagreement.

  Meggie went out for hours, packed away the shopping when she finally came back home and went out again. I was stuck with Rose all day. So I put her in the scrubbed-up second-hand buggy I'd bought and went for a walk. I actually took the time to notice the world around me. I'd visite
d Callum in Meadowview plenty of times as a child, but then the world was a beautiful place, as was everything and everyone in it. Then I saw only the poster-paint blue of the sky and the sun-kissed green of the leaves on the trees and a smile on every face.

  But now I was older.

  And Meadowview was no longer beautiful. The paving stones were uneven and cracked and broken. Wheeling Rose in her buggy was like manoeuvring over an obstacle course. I'd come out in four-centimetre-high shoes. All the Noughts around wore trainers. Now I could see why. The pavement was speckled with dried chewing gum, most of it so old as to be on a level with the surface of the paving stones beneath. Five minutes didn't pass before another police car or ambulance whizzed past me. Trees were few and far between, their roots surrounded not by soil or grass but by tarmac or steel grilles. Everyone looked so tired.

  And no one smiled.

  As I pushed Rose in her buggy, I couldn't help but be aware of the looks we were getting. A lot of the Noughts we passed did a double-take when they noticed us. One tall Nought woman, in her mid-thirties, I'd guess, with black hair and dark eyes even turned round and started to follow me. I instinctively knew she was behind me. Some sixth sense like an inner radar jangled my nerves. A stillness settled over me as I turned my focus outward instead of inwards. It was like the world slowed down so I could notice everything in it. A horn beeped two or three cars behind me. A man ran across the road, dodging in front of one car, waiting for another to pass before he chanced trying to reach the opposite pavement. A pneumatic drill sounded relentlessly in the background.

  And the woman was still behind me, following. And getting closer. I took a deep breath and turned to face her, standing between her and my baby with one hand clutching at the buggy's handle.

  'Can I help you?' I said with belligerence.

  'I'm sorry but are you . . . Persephone Handley?'

  It's Hadley, I thought sourly. But I had more sense than to answer.

  'You are, aren't you?' she said, scrutinizing me. She took a step closer. I took a step back.

  Here we go, I thought, my heart sinking.

  What was it that made people think that just because I'd been in the paper, they were entitled to stop me in the street and verbally abuse me? When I'd been pregnant, one woman had even slapped my face, calling me a traitor and telling me I was 'no better than I should be' – whatever that means. The woman's face broke into a broad smile, taking my silence for assent.

  'Can I say something?'

  'If you must,' I mumbled, bracing myself.

  'I just wanted to say – good for you!'

  'Excuse me?'

  'Good for you,' she repeated.

  And with that her face whooshed red. She turned and almost stumbled in her embarrassed haste to get away from me. Astonished, I watched her walk quickly away. It took a few seconds before her words sank in. I wanted to call after her, but she was out of earshot. I smiled and said softly, 'Thank you.' Then I turned round and carried on with my walk – still puzzled, not just by what she'd said but also by my automatic assumption that she'd been winding up to say something nasty to me. When did I get so distrustful? I smiled at the next Nought I walked past. She looked from Rose to me and gave me the filthiest look I'd had in, oh, at least a day. I sighed inwardly. No more smiling. No more catching anyone's eye. The thing to do was keep myself to myself. Growing up was just a euphemistic way to describe growing more cynical and inhibited.

  After about forty minutes, we went back home. And Rose chose the moment I put the key in the door to bawl her head off. I fed her and changed her and put her down but she wouldn't stop crying. Meggie said I should leave her to cry in her cot, but after half an hour of listening to her scream, I couldn't handle it any more. So I picked her up and rubbed her back.

  And when that didn't work, I whispered in her ear.

  And then I looked at her. Looked at her properly for probably the first time since I'd read her dad's letter. And only when I looked into her eyes so that she could look straight back into mine did she stop crying. Only then.

  I sat down and held her in my arms, long after she'd fallen asleep. Her eyes were still a deep, dark blue. I hadn't realized. Her hair was already longer than when she was first born, and she felt chunky and solid – just as she should. She'd put on so much weight, it was almost as if she was growing before my eyes.

  Who could I tell about it?

  I felt so alone. It was loneliness, not blood that coursed through my veins. I finally put her back in her cot. It was easy to forget everything else when she looked at me and I looked at her. But it was all too easy to remember when we were apart. I needed to think, away from Rose, away from any distractions. I decided to have a bath, to calm down and consider. I had a lot of thinking to do. Meggie arrived home and went straight to her room so I was left alone.

  I lay in the deep, warm, lavender-scented bath water knowing I wouldn't be disturbed. Meggie was obviously still mad at me. Well, that was her business. I had to think about what I was going to do next. But I felt so relaxed for the first time in a long time that it was hard to think at all. I gently undulated my thighs so that the water would wash over my stomach and breasts. And it was so soothing. I closed my eyes and tilted back my head. And still my thighs moved in and out gently, slowly, to keep the water lapping over my body. I drifted away to golden beaches strewn with smooth pieces of driftwood, spring in Celebration Park when the air smelled of fresh wet earth and abundant wild flowers, blissfully ignorant childhood Sunday mornings under the duvet curled up with a good book. I gathered up all the good memories I could as I moved further down into the bath water. I drifted away to a cold cabin in the middle of some dark, nameless forest.

  With Callum.

  Kissing me.

  Touching me.

  On me.

  In me.

  'I love you, Sephy . . .' he whispers against my mouth.

  I'm too breathless, too overwrought to say anything in reply. I ding onto him, my arms around him, loving him so much I think I'll die of it. Can he hear my scattered thoughts? Or just read what I'm feeling in my eyes? Just one look to drink me in. Just a touch to eat me up. Carry me away. Your hands are so hot against my skin, burning me wherever you touch. But don't stop touching me. Never stop loving me.

  Oh Callum, I love you so much. And what you're doing to me . . . My blood is on fire. Each kiss, each caress robs me of another piece of my heart, another part of my soul. There's no you and me any more. There's just us – as one. I return your kiss, our lips pressing together harder and harder until we can't breathe, until I can't tell where I stop and you start. Lost in a dream and carried onwards and upwards, until we're both so high we're touching heaven. Knocking on heaven's door.

  Callum, I love you . . .

  Callum, I love . . .

  Callum, my love.

  I opened my eyes to find myself half in the present, half in the past. My hands moved out of the cooling bath water to grip the sides of the bath.

  Oh Callum, my love . . .

  My body trembled with pleasure as every cell of my body remembered him, all of him. And with each quiver of my body, the past faded and the present reclaimed me. When the quivering stopped and the shivering started, I sat up and buried my face in my hands, unable to stop the tears running down my face. The real world buried me and once again I remembered how desperately alone I was. This loneliness would drive me insane, if it didn't kill me first.

  I climbed out of the cool bath water, putting on my dressing gown. I sat at the edge of the tub for I don't know how long, staring down at the lino. I only got up when I began to get pins and needles in my feet. After pulling the plug and cleaning the bath tub, I headed back to my room. It was lit by a single lamp on the table by my bed. I peeped into Rose's cot and watched her sleep, trying to resist the temptation to pick her up or stroke her cheek. After drying my skin, I put on my cotton pyjamas and slipped into bed.

  Tired as I was, I knew I wouldn't be able to
sleep. My mind was racing. I found myself wishing there was some pill or potion I could take which would make me forget about Rose's dad for long enough to get some rest. Giving up, I sat up in bed wondering what to do next. I thought about reading but I wasn't in the mood. I didn't know what to do with myself. My mind was wading through treacle. I wanted to talk to someone but there was no one. Meggie was in her room, probably asleep. And I couldn't phone Minerva or Mother at this time of night. However, I needed to talk to someone. Anyone. In desperation, I picked up my notebook from off the floor and hunted around for something to write with. Retrieving a pen from the pocket of my jacket hanging on the wardrobe, I got back into bed. Now what? I wanted to write something but I had no idea what. Something that was pure fantasy. Something that would take me away from the words in Callum's letter. Something that would stop me wishing there were no words left in the world.

  Don't think about it, I told myself. Just write.

  So I did. I wrote down 'No Words' and underlined it twice. And then I wrote with my heart before my head could censor me. I just let the words pour out. Pure fantasy.

  No Words

  We had something special.

  I still can't believe it's gone.

  For once I left your loving arms

  Everything went wrong.

  We danced upon a rainbow

  And chased the clouds away.

  But now that you 're not with me,

  There's no more left to say.

  For love's first kiss

  No words.

  Just one night of bliss

  No words.

  What we had is gone

  No words.

  It's time to move on

  No words.

  No one promised us for ever

  But we thought it'd never fade.

  Now all I do is close my eyes,

  To feel the love we made.

  You were and are and will be

  My one and only lover