Noughts and Crosses (25 page)

Mum went back and had our information deleted off the hospital database but she’s still not happy. The slightest noise outside, the lightest knock at the door and we have to scrape her off the ceiling.

‘Why don’t you just walk around with an “I am guilty!” sign wrapped around you?’ Dad snapped.

I winced the moment he said it, as did Mum.

‘I’m sorry, Meggie,’ Dad sighed.

Mum turned and walked away from him, without saying a word. Dad slammed out of the house. Jude turned up the telly volume, even though it was fine as it was before. I bent my head and carried on with my homework.

But we couldn’t go on like that.

We were all sitting down for Sunday lunch of mince and spaghetti when Mum suddenly threw down her fork.

‘Ryan, I want you out of this house,’ Mum declared.

The floor beneath my chair disappeared and I started free falling.

‘W-what?’ Dad frowned.

‘I want you out of this house by morning. I’ve thought about it and this is the only way,’ said Mum. ‘It’s too late for you and me, but it’s not too late for Jude. I’m not
going to let you drag a noose around his neck. I love him too much to let you do that.’

‘I love him too,’ Dad stared at her.

‘I don’t like the way you show it,’ Mum told him. ‘So you must leave.’

‘I’m damned if I’ll leave my own house,’ Dad declared.

‘You will if you love any of us as much as you say you do,’ Mum said.

I looked from Dad to Mum and back again, horrified. I wasn’t the only one at the table who knew that Mum meant every word.

‘You’ve never understood why I’m doing this,’ Dad said bitterly. ‘I want something more for my sons. Something better.’

‘And the end justifies the means?’

‘Yes. In this case it does. Especially when the daggers haven’t left us with any other option.’

‘I’m not arguing with you, Ryan. Just pack your b-bags and leave. OK?’

‘No, it’s not OK,’ Dad shouted, making us all jump.

‘If Dad leaves, then so do I,’ Jude piped up.

‘No, you won’t,’ Mum and Dad spoke in unison.

Jude looked at Dad, bewildered. ‘But you can’t stop me from belonging to the Liberation Militia. I’m not going to bow out now.’

‘Jude . . .’ Mum said, intensely hurt.

‘Mum, for the first time in my life I’m doing something I totally believe in. I can actually do some good, make a difference.’

Make a difference . . .

‘I’m sorry if that upsets you but sending Dad away
won’t change my mind. I’ll just go with him, that’s all.’

‘And if I don’t take you?’ Dad asked.

‘Then I’ll find somewhere else to stay. But I’m not giving up the
L.M
. I’m not.’

‘Then you can both leave,’ Mum said, stonily. ‘And I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect Callum. If I can only save one of my children then so be it.’

They all started shouting and screaming at each other at that. I stood up and headed for the door. I had to get out of there. Fast. They were all too busy hating each other to notice me. I slipped out of the front door and ran.

‘Hi Callum, old friend! Old buddy! Old pal! How are you on this glorious day? Isn’t it a beautiful Sunday? The birds are singing. Not over here, but somewhere they must be singing, don’t you think? Don’t you think, old buddy? Old pal?’ I burst out laughing.

Callum had a very strange look on his face as he watched me. He wasn’t laughing though. Why wasn’t he laughing? I tried to stop, but the look on his face made me laugh even harder. He leaned forward and sniffed at my breath. The look on his face made me laugh until my eyes began to water.

And the next thing I knew, Callum had me by the
shoulders and was shaking me like a country dog shakes a rabbit.

‘S-s-stop i-it . . .’

‘What the hell d’you think you’re doing?’ Callum shouted at me.

The look on his face scared me. Actually scared me. I’d never seen him so furiously angry before. ‘L-let go . . .’

Callum let go of me almost before the words were out of my mouth. I stumbled backwards and fell in a heap. I tried to scramble to my feet but the beach was swaying. If the beach would just stop swaying for two seconds . . .

‘Look at you, Sephy,’ Callum said, his voice ringing with disgust. ‘You’re drunk as a skunk.’

‘I am not. I’ve had just one glass of cider today, that’s all. Or maybe two,’ I giggled, adding conspiratorially. ‘It would’ve been wine, but I don’t want Mother to get suspicious . . .’

‘How could you be so
stupid
?’ Callum roared. I wished he’d stop. He was making my head hurt. ‘You want to end up like your mother?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ I finally managed to get to my feet, but the whole world was rocking beneath them.

‘I’m not. I can’t stand your mother but at least she had a reason to start. What’s your excuse? Not enough attention? Daddy’s allowance not big enough? Mummy not giving you enough love? Bed not wide enough? Bedroom carpet not plush enough?’

‘Stop it . . .’ I was sobering up fast. Callum was being
horrible
. ‘Don’t stand there and judge me. How dare you?’

‘If you behave like a complete moron, don’t bleat when that’s how others treat you.’

‘I’m not a moron.’

‘No, you’re worse. You’re a drunk. A lush. An alcy.’

I covered my ears. ‘Don’t say that. That’s enough . . .’

‘Is it? Come on then. I’m waiting to hear your reasons. I’m all ears.’

‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘Try me.’

‘I’m tired, OK,’ I shouted at him, shouted for the whole world to hear.

‘Tired of what?’

‘Of my mother and father, my sister, of you too if you must know. I’m tired of the way you all make me feel. This is it for me, isn’t it? Be a good girl, study at school, study at university, get a good job, marry a good man, live a good life and they all lived happily ever after. The whole thing just makes me . . . makes me want to puke. I want something more in my life . . .’

‘And you reckon you’ll find it in a wine bottle?’

I kicked at the sand beneath my feet. ‘I don’t know where else to look,’ I finally admitted.

‘Sephy, don’t follow your mother, OK? She’s headed for a mental home – or a coffin. Is that really what you want?’

That made me start and no mistake. Was that really where Mother was going? I didn’t want her to die like that.
I
didn’t want to die like that. I regarded Callum, seeing myself as he must see me. A silly, pathetic child who thought that drinking was a way to grow older faster. A way to stop feeling, ’cause then nothing could hurt me.

‘I should be getting back,’ I said at last, massaging my throbbing temples.

‘Sephy, promise me you won’t drink any more.’

‘No,’ I said at once.

Callum looked so hurt and unhappy, that I couldn’t leave it there. I just couldn’t.

‘But I promise I’ll try,’ I added.

On the spur of the moment, I leaned forward and kissed Callum on the lips. He moved back.

‘Don’t want to see what kissing is like any more – huh?’ I tried to tease.

‘You stink of alcohol,’ Callum told me.

My smile vanished. ‘D’you know something, Callum? Sometimes you can be just as cruel as my dad is to my mother.’

‘Sorry.’

I turned to walk away.

‘Sephy, I’m sorry.’ Callum pulled me back.

‘Just get lost.’

‘Not without you.’ Callum gave a pathetic attempt at a smile.

‘Leave me alone,’ I screamed at him, knocking his arm away. ‘I should’ve known you wouldn’t understand. I should’ve realized. Besides, you have other fish to fry now. You’re part of the Liberation Militia. You must be so proud of yourselves . .’

‘I’m not a member of the
L.M
. I never have been,’ Callum denied harshly.

‘How did you know about the bomb at the Dundale then?’

Callum pressed his lips firmly together. I recognized that look, he wasn’t going to say a word.

‘You should’ve let me get blown up, Callum. Sometimes . . . sometimes I wish you had . . .’

Callum kissed me then. And it wasn’t like the first time we’d kissed either. He wrapped his arms around me and closed his eyes and kissed me. And after a startled moment, I did exactly the same.

And it wasn’t bad, either.

But it wasn’t enough. Our kiss deepened and his hands began to wander, and so did mine.

And it made things better. But it wasn’t enough.

Of course I admit it. Things went too far. We didn’t go all the way. Not
all
the way. But I’d only meant to kiss her to show that I didn’t care if she reeked of ruddy cider. I wouldn’t even care if her face was covered with puke . . . well, maybe that’s going a bit far! But I wanted to show her . . . Anyway. I’m going to have to be more careful. Sephy’s just a kid really. We both stopped in time. Not just one of us. I think we both realized we were moving too far too fast.

But now, the thing is, I’m doing my head in thinking about her. Jude would bust a gut if he could read my mind. He’d probably literally do it too. I’m only sixteen and Sephy’s not even fifteen yet. In my world the trouble never stops. In hers, it never starts. This drinking nonsense is just her way of getting attention. I mean, it’s not even
as if she’s getting drunk on proper booze. Not whisky or gin or vodka but cider, for goodness’ sake! She’s bored, that’s all it is. I wish she could live half my life. Just half. That’d soon give her something to occupy her time.

Come on, Callum, think of something else or you’ll never get any sleep. I wonder what she’s doing at this precise moment. Lying in bed thinking of me? I hope so.

Dear God, if you really are out there, somewhere, please find some way for Sephy and I to be together when we’re older. For good and all when we’re older. Together for ever. Dear God, please. If it’s not too much to ask. If you’re out there . . .

Callum for goodness’ sake, stop daydreaming and get some sleep. You’re being totally pathetic. Stop it!

There was no warning. No knock at the door. No warning shouts. Nothing. The first I knew about it was the
CRASH
when our front door was battered in. Shouts. Calls. A scream. Footsteps charging. Doors banging. More shouts. More footsteps – pound, pound, pound up the stairs. By the time I was fully awake and had swung my legs out of bed, smoke was everywhere. At least I thought it was smoke. I dropped to the floor.

‘Jude?
JUDE
!’ I yelled, terrified that my brother was still asleep. I jumped up, looking around for him.

It was only then that I realized it wasn’t smoke filling my room, filling the house. The strong smell of garlic caught in the back of my throat and brought instant tears to my eyes. I coughed and coughed, my lungs threatening to explode from my body and my eyes were streaming.
Tear gas
. I struggled to my feet and groped my way to the front door.

‘
DOWN! GET DOWN!
’ A voice, no, more than one voice, screamed at me.

I turned in the direction of the voice, only to be pushed to my knees, then down to the ground. My chin hit the hard floor, making me bite down on my tongue. My arms were jerked behind my body. Hands bent back. Cold, hard steel cutting into my wrists. My eyes hurt. My lungs hurt. My tongue hurt. I was pulled to my knees, then yanked up. Pushed and pulled and punched forward. I couldn’t see. I closed my burning eyes – and I admit, I was crying by now, trying to clear the tear gas, desperate to stop the pain. My lungs were being filed with sandpaper. Stop breathing. Just stop. But I couldn’t. And each breath was strong as ammonia, sharp as a razor.

‘
JUDE! MUM! DAD!
’ I called out, only to choke over the words. Only to choke. I couldn’t take much more. My body began to seize up, curl in on itself. And suddenly we were out. Out of the house. Out into the cool, night air. I tried to draw a breath. My lungs were being sliced. I gasped. More air – clean, fresh air. Just as I was pushed into the back of a car, I heard my mum crying.

‘
MUM
!’ I called. I blinked, and blinked again, looking around, trying to see her. Shapes and shadows swam before me. The car took off. My hands were still handcuffed behind my back. My whole body hurt.