Noughts and Crosses (40 page)

Callum . . .

The sight of him standing in the doorway was like an arrow whizzing straight through my body. He wasn’t the Callum I’d grown up with and I’d been an idiot to think he would be. It had all been a trick. A trap. And like the biggest fool in the universe, I’d fallen for it. He took a step towards me. Afraid, I drew back. For a briefest of seconds, I thought he flinched. But I was just imagining things. He couldn’t care less how I thought of him.

He came over to me. I drew back even further. What
was he going to do? It was only when he was leaning over me that I noticed the scissors in his hands. I trembled, terrified, then clamped my teeth together hard in an effort to stop myself from shaking.

Whatever happens, don’t cry. Don’t beg
.

As Callum’s hands touched my hair, I froze. I looked up at him without even blinking. I couldn’t even wonder what he was doing. My mind was shutting down. Then I heard the clip of the scissors and Callum moved away. Only then did I look away, my body slumping with such relief that I felt sick with it. My hand flew to my head. He’d cut off some of my hair. That was all. Just some of my hair.

‘I want you to hold this newspaper,’ Callum told me.

His voice was different. Deeper. Gruffer. And I’d missed it. I’d missed a lot of things.

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘I need to film you holding today’s paper.’

That wasn’t what I was asking.

‘I’m not going to help you.’ I folded my arms across my chest. No way was I going to hold that paper or do anything else he told me to do.

Two other noughts appeared behind Callum in the doorway. With a start, I saw that one of them was a woman, not the man I’d thought her on the beach.

‘Hold that paper or we’ll break your arms and arrange them in such a way that you’ll have no choice,’ the man behind Callum hissed at me.

Callum turned to look at him. I’d seen him somewhere before, if I could just figure out . . .

‘I don’t need you standing over me, supervising,’ Callum fumed.

‘Not supervising. Just observing, little brother.’

And only then did I recognize him. Jude, Callum’s brother.

‘Nothing like keeping kidnapping in the family, is there?’ I told them.

‘Hold the newspaper, Sephy,’ Callum held it out for me.

Reluctantly I took it. Callum lifted up his camcorder, only to lower it again immediately.

‘Look, I don’t need an audience,’ Callum told the spectators.

‘I’ve come to see the daughter of the famous Kamal Hadley,’ the woman replied. ‘Let’s see the silver spoon then.’

I regarded her, trying not to cringe at the venom in her voice. Without knowing a single thing about me, she hated my guts. I was a Cross and that was all she wanted or needed to know.

‘I bet you’ve never had more to worry about in your life than chipping the odd fingernail,’ the woman hissed at me.

‘Leila, go and do your job. Guard the front,’ Jude told her.

Casting one last poisonous look at me, Leila did as directed. I’d have to be careful of that one. She wouldn’t spit on me if I was on fire. None of them would.

‘I want you to read out that message for your father,’ Callum told me, handing me a piece of paper with my lines on it. He held up the camcorder to watch the preview screen. I glanced down at the sheet. If he thought I was going to say any of this then he was
crazy. I scrunched it up and threw it across the room.

‘Dad, don’t give them a penny,’ I shouted.

Callum lowered the camcorder but before he could say a word, Jude flew across the room, grabbed hold of both my jacket lapels with just one hand and slapped my face, before shaking me viciously.

‘You’re not in control here. We are. And you will do as you’re told or you won’t leave this place alive. D’you understand?’

I rubbed my cheek, fighting to hold back the tears.

‘You will do
exactly
as you are told or I will make this place your hell on earth. None of us are going to take any of your crap,’ Jude said softly.

He let go of me so suddenly I fell backwards onto the bed, hitting my head against the brick wall behind me. Jude straightened up and headed out of the room, pausing briefly as he reached Callum.

‘Make sure she does as she’s told,’ he said, making sure I could hear.

Moments later he was gone.

I wondered about making a break for it but Callum was between me and the door, plus from the sound of it the front door was guarded by that girl, Leila. And Jude wouldn’t hesitate to take me down if he reckoned it was required. I had to bide my time. If only my head would stop ringing so that I could think straight. If only my stomach would stop hurting so I could at least sit up without pain. If only . . . if only . . .

I had to get him talking. I had to get him to remember me, remember us as we used to be. I had to get him to think of me again as a fellow human being with a name
and thoughts and feelings, instead of the nothing I obviously was to him now.

‘Callum, I understand why you feel you have to do this,’ I began. ‘I really do. But this isn’t the way.’

Nothing.

But I wasn’t going to give up. ‘Callum, listen to me. At Chivers I became involved in protests and debates and sit-ins. If you try to change the world using violence, you’ll just swap one form of injustice for another. This isn’t right. There are other ways . . .’

‘Like what? Like being educated to fight the system from within?’ Callum challenged. ‘I tried that – remember?’

‘I know, but if you’d just give it another try . . . I could help you . . .’

‘I don’t want to hear it. And I don’t want your ruddy help. I’m sick of your charity and your handouts,’ he interrupted. ‘You’re just like all the others. You think we noughts can’t do a damned thing unless you Crosses are there to help or supervise.’ And his body shook with such rage that I had to force myself to continue.

‘Don’t hate me for wanting to change the way things are. I believe in you, Callum. You can change the world, I know you can. But not like this,’ I said. ‘I’m not trying to be magnanimous or patronizing. I genuinely want to help but . . .’

‘Enough! Hold up the newspaper and read the words on this,’ Callum ordered, handing me the now smoothed-out sheet of paper again. I looked up at Callum.

‘Read it,’ he said, his attention on the camcorder and nothing else.

‘Callum, please . . .’

‘
READ IT
.’

After a moment’s pause, I began to read.

‘
Dad
,

I’ve been ordered to read what’s on this sheet. I’ve been kidnapped and the kidnappers say you’ll never see me again unless you do exactly as instructed. Your instructions will be in the envelope along with this video disc. You have twenty-four hours to follow their instructions to the letter. If you don’t, I’ll . . . I’ll be k-killed. If you go to the police or tell anyone, I’ll be killed. The kidnappers will know every move you make and every person you talk to. If you ever want to see me alive again, please do as they say
.’

Sephy looked up from her sheet of paper, tears trickling down her cheeks. I moved my hand up to indicate that she should lift up the newspaper. She did so at once. I zoomed into the paper so there could be no doubt about the date, then I moved to zoom into Sephy’s face. She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She wasn’t looking at the camcorder. She was looking at me. I switched off the camcorder.

‘That ought to do it.’ I took the newspaper from
Sephy’s unresisting hand. I looked her up and down critically. ‘What’re you wearing?’

‘Pardon?’

‘You heard me.’

Puzzled, Sephy said, ‘Trousers, a jacket, a jumper.’

‘Tell me everything you’re wearing,’ I ordered.

Silence.

‘I can always find out for myself,’ I threatened.

‘Sandals, jeans, knickers, watch, bra, T-shirt, jumper, necklace, jacket, earrings. Satisfied?’

‘Take off your T-shirt.’

‘No way.’

‘Take off your T-shirt or I’ll do it for you.’

Sephy gave me a long, hard, fearful look. She obviously decided I was serious, which I was, because she started to take off her jacket.

‘Are you going to kill me, Callum?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ I closed my eyes and turned away so Sephy couldn’t see my face. Why couldn’t she just shut up? Why did it have to be her? I thought I could do this . . .

‘I never realized just how much you and your family hate us,’ Sephy whispered. ‘Jude looked at me like he wanted to kill me just now. Why does he hate me so much? Is it me personally or just what I am?’

I didn’t answer. I squatted down to pack the camcorder back into its holdall as she carried on undressing.

‘I’m not stupid, you know,’ Sephy said wearily, taking off her jumper. ‘None of you are wearing masks or disguising your voices. I could identify each and every one of you, but you don’t care. Which means only one thing.
You have no intention of letting me go, even if my father gives in to all your demands.’

My head shot up at that.

We regarded each other as Sephy continued. ‘One of you is going to kill me. It’s just a question of when . . . and who.’ She pulled her T-shirt over her head and threw it down on the floor. ‘W-what now?’ she asked.

‘You can put the rest of your clothes back on,’ I told her, picking up the T-shirt.

As she pulled on her jumper, I tried not to stare, I really did. But her body had changed so much in the years we’d been apart. She had breasts now! Her purple lace bra just emphasised them rather than hid them. And her waist went in, instead of straight down, and her stomach was flatter and her legs were longer and her face had lost its baby fat – and she was so very, very beautiful. I turned away as Sephy pushed her head through the neck of her jumper. I didn’t want her to catch me staring.

‘If your father does as he’s told, you’ll be OK . . .’

‘OK? Like I’m OK now?’ Sephy scoffed. ‘Come on, Callum, this is your chance to really take your revenge. Don’t you want to get your own back for all those times you had to put up with me on the beach? And all those years pretending to be my friend, just praying for this moment.’

Shut up! Shut up . . . Ignore her, Callum. Just ignore her. Put a strait-jacket on your feelings. Don’t let her see how much she’s getting to you . . .

‘What about the night we spent together in my room?’ she asked. ‘Didn’t that mean anything to you?’

‘You mean, the couple of days before you murdered my father?’ I asked, harshly.

‘Your father died trying to escape . . .’

‘My father chose to die because he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison for something he didn’t do.’

Sephy’s gaze lowered briefly. She looked up again and said, ‘I didn’t murder your father, Callum. I didn’t want him to die.’

‘You and your kind killed him,’ I told her, zipping up the camcorder case.

‘So you
are
going to kill me. But not you personally, I bet,’ Sephy’s voice trembled. ‘That’s not your style, is it? You set me up so your friends could capture me. You’re real good at letting others do your dirty work for you.’

I spun around at that. ‘You wouldn’t be the first dagger I’ve killed. Not by a long shot.’

‘And I’d be easy to kill, wouldn’t I?’ Sephy said quietly. ‘’Cause I don’t count. I’m nothing. Just a black dagger bitch. Just like you’re a white blanker bastard.’

And now I was furiously angry. Just like I’d wanted to be before I could do what I had to do next. I grabbed her left hand and before she could pull away, I drew my knife across her index finger. Sephy gasped, tears instantly springing to her eyes. And my anger died with such a suddenness that I knew it hadn’t been real to begin with. Manufactured to get me through the moment. The day. My life.

‘Sorry . . .’ I mumbled, wrapping her T-shirt around her finger. I concentrated on getting her blood on to the T-shirt. I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. The white cotton of her shirt soaked up the blood like blotting paper. I unwrapped the shirt and dragged her still bleeding finger
up and down it. The final proof for her father that we were deadly serious. The final proof that we were deadly. Sephy kept trying to pull her hand back but I wouldn’t let her.

‘I bet you enjoyed that,’ Sephy hissed at me.

‘No, I didn’t,’ I snapped back, letting go of her wrist at last.

Sephy put her finger into her mouth, wincing as the wound stung anew. She took her finger out of her mouth to look at it. It was still bleeding. The cut was deep – for both of us. Deeper than I’d intended. A scratch would’ve been deeper than I intended. She went to put her finger back in her mouth but I grabbed her hand again. She struggled, trying to pull her hand away. Maybe she thought I was going to cut her again. I put her finger in my mouth. And she was instantly still. I don’t know how long we sat there, watching each other. A second? An hour? Sephy moved first. She slowly pulled back her finger.

‘When you all decide you don’t need me any more,’ Sephy whispered, ‘I want
you
to . . . do it. One favour though. It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask you. J-just make it quick. OK?’ And she turned around and lay down on her side of the bed, her back towards me.