‘I didn’t watch it.’ She’d seen the journalists outside her house, waiting for a statement, a glimpse of the broken star at the window. Leah had said a few words to them; Dennis had closed all the blinds and curtains and instructed her to keep them shut. ‘Yesterday was a blur.’ Carrie’s voice was weak. She tried to focus on why she was here. ‘What was Max like in class, Mr Lockhart?’
Tim shifted, as if it was a parent-teacher meeting and he had to deliver bad news about grades. ‘He could have been one of my brightest students. He showed a real interest in literature.’ The sentence finished with a high tone, as if there was more.
‘But?’ Carrie knew it was coming.
‘But he was prone to skipping lessons. The GCSE year is an important one and—’
‘He missed lessons?’ Carrie was shocked. ‘Why didn’t I know about this?’
‘That’s something the head would have dealt with, Mrs Quinell.’
Carrie tried to stick to what she’d come for, but it hurt so. Every breath rasped in her chest, every syllable she spoke ulcerated her tongue. ‘Why did he miss lessons? Where the hell was he?’ The idea of her son playing truant was as foreign as the notion of him not being alive. Denningham College wouldn’t have tolerated this kind of behaviour. ‘I mean...’
‘He’s not the only pupil to decide that hanging out at the shops or down at the park is better than school. They smoke, drink, eat, get high. That kind of stuff.’ Tim Lockhart was cavalier and seemingly comfortable with this idea. He was still young, in his late twenties, Carrie guessed, and clearly not that far removed from a time when he did exactly what he had just described.
The teacher continued. ‘Look, I know he’d not been at Milton Park long, and I know that he was finding it quite hard to fit in, but if it’s any comfort, he wasn’t totally alone. I saw him hanging out with a girl quite often. She is in the same English class. Another bright spark. She used to try to make him come to lessons, get him to do his homework.’
‘Who?’ Her son had a friend that she knew nothing about. A girl.
‘It’s not normal for me to give out pupils’ names—’
‘Do you think it’s normal for me to be sitting here discussing my dead son?’ She half stood, staring intently at the man. A small piece of Carrie Kent took hold of the situation.
Mr Lockhart nodded. He pulled his robe closed around his chest. ‘Dayna Ray. She lives somewhere on the Gorse Vale estate. If you’re going to visit, I’d take someone with you if I were you.’
‘Thank you.’ Carrie made to leave. She needed some air. The house was stuffy.
‘Wait.’ The teacher rose and went through a frosted door to the dining room. The table was stacked with books and papers. He flipped through a pile of what looked like handwritten essays. ‘I think you should have this. Max’s last essay.’ He hung his head and handed over the two A4 pages of blue Biro scrawl. ‘They’re studying
Romeo and Juliet
. I gave him a top mark. His insights were, well, both disturbing and brilliant.’
Carrie took it. She closed her eyes for a second, nodded and left, knowing it would be a while before she could bring herself to read it.
Gorse Vale was infected with tearaway kids, most of them not much older than six or seven, spiralling around the streets on bikes and scooters while their mothers were, no doubt, inside with a fag, a beer, watching daytime TV. Carrie stopped walking and closed her eyes. Was she, somehow, fuelling the social fire rather than quenching it?
‘Why are you doing this?’ Brody’s voice was worn out. She’d picked him up half an hour ago, insisting he come with her to talk to Max’s friend. He hadn’t wanted to, thought it was pointless, contrary to how he’d been the day before. He was coping OK, he’d told her, by lying on his back and smoking. He couldn’t do anything else.
‘I have to do something,’ Carrie said. Their arms were linked. ‘Max was a part of this and I never knew.’
‘You think it will help, being here, finding this girl?’
‘If you could see this place, you’d know what I mean.’
Brody yanked his arm from his ex’s. ‘It looks fine to me.’ He put his hand against his forehead as if shielding his eyes from the sun he couldn’t see. He squinted.
‘It looks a lot like the dump you live in.’ Carrie began walking again. She knew Brody would follow the sound of her footsteps, but he wouldn’t know where the kerbs were or where the discarded bikes lay on their sides, wheels spinning. ‘Except you have a choice.’
It was Brody’s turn to halt. ‘You just can’t stand it, can you?’ Several of the kids nearby stared at them.
‘What?’
‘That someone you used to be married to lives in a housing tenement. That the father of your son lives in a shithole.’
‘You’re being ridiculous.’ Carrie pulled him along by the arm. They needed to find out where this girl lived and she didn’t much fancy approaching the groups of kids and grilling them alone.
‘Admit it.’
‘There’s nothing to admit.’ Her voice gave way. She didn’t want this conversation now. Ever. Brody’s feet were stuck fast to the pavement. Carrie sighed. She felt weak. Normally, she wouldn’t let this pass, but nothing was normal any more.
‘Tell me that it’s nearly killing you to have seen where I live.’
Carrie swallowed. She knew Brody would have noticed the hesitation. A plane rumbled low overhead. ‘Is that why you did it? You’ve spent years living in that place just to piss me off?’ She laughed cruelly and yanked him by the wrist. ‘You were born blind, Brody Quinell.’
Carrie stepped up to a group of girls to ask if they knew Dayna Ray. She was surprised she had any feeling left to notice that Brody was actually right – that yes, of course it had got to her, and it certainly angered her to know where Max had been staying when he was with his father. Brody spun her roughly round. His face was close.
‘No,
you’re
the only blind person I know, Carrie Kent. You’ve been blind to everything that’s been right under your nose your entire life, yet you’re too stupid to see it.’ He shook her hard. His voice slipped from rage to misery. He was sobbing. ‘Nothing in this life is flawless, woman.
Nothing
. And you, it may surprise you to know, are no bloody different to the rest of us.’
Carrie screwed up her eyes. She couldn’t stand to see the truth.
AUTUMN 2008
Dayna had been thinking about him when he texted.
Psychic
, she thought, grinning, rolling about on her bed. He wanted to meet at the chippy.
She put away her books, clipped her essay into the ring binder and crept along the landing to the bathroom. Kev was asleep on his bed. If she woke him, there’d be hell to pay. She allowed a trickle of water to escape the tap and attempted to wash the ink off her hands. She stared in the mirror. Her eyeliner had smudged so she licked her finger and rubbed at it. Now it looked as if she’d been crying. She forked her fingers through her hair, wishing she could afford to go to a hairdresser, just that little place on the corner, or at least get a box of dye to do her roots.
Dayna went quietly down the stairs and slipped into her jacket. Lorrell stared at her from the lounge. Her eyes were big and pleading:
don’t go
. In the kitchen, she saw her mum leaning against the sink, smoking, talking in a hushed voice on the phone. That in itself was odd. She only ever shouted.
In a flash of madness, Dayna beckoned Lorrell with a flick of her head and a forefinger to her mouth.
Shhh
. Max probably won’t like it, she thought, but there was no way she was leaving Lorrell behind for a beating or a day of starvation when no one bothered to feed her.
Dayna pushed Lorrell’s feet into shoes that were too small and slipped her arms into the sleeves of a grubby coat. Her face shone and was alight with wonder.
‘Adventure,’ she whispered in her big sister’s ear. It sent shivers down Dayna’s spine. She nodded and took Lorrell’s hand. Yes, they were off to see Max. They were off on an adventure because, when she was with him, Dayna felt as if anything might happen.
He was waiting outside the chippy. He wanted to treat her, he said. She smiled coyly, thinking she was going to get a kiss because he’d kind of leant towards her as she approached. He stopped short, distracted by Lorrell’s presence.
‘Hey, you,’ he said to her. He didn’t seem at all annoyed that she was tagging along. The opposite, in fact. He was fascinated.
‘Lorrell, this is Max. Can you say Max?’ Dayna thrust out the child’s hand in a pretend introduction. When Max tried to take it she pulled away and shook her head at the same time. ‘She’s not normally shy.’
The three of them went into the chippy and stared up at the menu. ‘What’ve you been up to?’ Max moved closer to Dayna, brushing against her. Her fingers tingled, desperate to slip into his but not having the courage to make the first move.
She shrugged. ‘Did a bit on that essay this morning. My stepdad came home drunk at two in the morning and shoved my mum down the stairs. That was . . . interesting.’ She tried to smile.
Max shook his head and Dayna noticed that his eyes were sad.
‘Don’t worry about me. Happens all the time.’ She laughed. She didn’t want things getting miserable. ‘They should go on that show and get sorted out. What’s it called?
Reality Check
or something.’Then Lorrell was tugging at her arm, pulling a face that was only too familiar. ‘Oh God,’ Dayna said. She glanced around. ‘She needs a wee,’ she whispered to Max, but he was frozen stiff, unmoving as though he’d died on the spot. ‘Back in a mo.’
Dayna knew there weren’t any public loos nearby so she nipped Lorrell over to the park. ‘You going to water this tree for me?’ She glanced around. She had to look out for her kid sister now, too. This place attracted all sorts of weirdos. Someone from school had been gang-raped here last week, although a rumour was going around that she’d pretty much asked for it. How were four boys supposed to keep it to themselves, everyone was saying, when she was dressed like that?
Dayna shuddered as Lorrell squatted at the base of the tree. ‘Hurry, babe.’ The tree she’d chosen was away from the main road to give her sister some privacy. It was behind the lopsided swings and rusted-up roundabout. Dayna glanced around. There was a woman with a dog the other side of the grassy area. Some other kids were hanging around outside the chippy now.
Lorrell pulled up her knickers. ‘Done,’ she said proudly. Dayna took her hand and was about to walk away but, a second before it happened, her spine fizzed, as though she knew what was coming.
‘
Oi, you!
’
The voice stopped Dayna in her tracks. Her breathing quickened and she dug her nails into her palms to slow the panic. She squinted across at the chippy. She could make a dash for it, but Lorrell would never keep up. Slowly, Dayna turned round. There was a hand on her shoulder.
‘Oi, emo bint. I’m talking to you.’
A little column of sick pushed up her throat. Bony fingers clawed at her arm. The other three boys surrounded her. Lorrell clung to her leg and whimpered. Dayna stroked her hair and shrugged. She swallowed, refusing to sound scared even though she was panting from fear. ‘My kid sis just peed there. Watch where you tread.’ Dayna hoped it might send them scarpering. It didn’t.
‘Ain’t you gonna piss then?’
A peal of chesty laughter rang out. One of them lit a fag.
‘Yeah, go on. Have a piss.’
‘Pull her knickers down.’
‘If she’s got any on, the dirty little emo.’
‘’Scuse me, I’m off.’ Dayna gathered all her strength and hoisted Lorrell on to her hip. Her cheeks were flushed and she could hardly breathe now. The child clung round her neck as she made to walk back to the chippy.
‘You ain’t going nowhere.’ That bony hand again, caught round her arm, her throat, her life.
‘Wee wee wee wee . . .’ More laughter and more hands on her, spreading across her back, her bum, her hair . . . they were tugging at her studded belt . . . her zip . . .
There was a scream . . .
hers
. . . and then she was on the ground and the cold grass smacked against her cheek. She felt her jeans being pulled off her, her bag being torn from her shoulder. She had grit in her mouth. Where was Lorrell?
‘Fucking leave her alone and piss off.’
Suddenly everything was still.
Dayna squinted up at the sky. Red, breathless faces loomed above. She pulled herself upright, dizzy, staggering, and there was Max, come to save her. She stared at him, hardly able to believe what she was seeing.
‘Calm fucking down, man. It was just a game, weren’t it?’ The boys grouped together.
‘Piss off and don’t come back.’
‘Max?’ Dayna was suddenly by his side, her eyes enormous. She reached out for Lorrell’s hand as the child crept closer. She’d been hiding behind the tree. ‘What’re you doing?’ Her voice shook.
‘Saving you,’ he said. He ruffled Lorrell’s hair. Dayna noticed his hands were shaking.
‘No . . . I mean, what are you
doing
?’ She glanced at his other hand. ‘With . . . with that?’ She’d thought he was different from the others.
Max didn’t say anything. He just tucked the kitchen knife back in his bag.
They walked over to the chippy and bought food. Sitting on a wall outside, Dayna asked, ‘Would you have done it to them? You know . . .’ She pretended to stab herself with the little wooden chip fork. She stopped when Lorrell glanced up.
Max’s face fell serious. He hadn’t shaved, she noticed, as the sun picked out soft fuzz on his upper lip. He stared straight at her and nodded. ‘Yes.’
Dayna’s stomach did backflips. The feeling was way better than any kiss.
Fiona often speculated where it all went wrong for Brody. Of course, she’d wondered about the lives of other men in her life too – men who really
were
in her life, those disastrous relationships that typically lasted half a dozen dates before she couldn’t stand them ruining any chance she might one day have with Brody – and her guesses had been wrong as often as half right. Never, though, had she drawn quite such a blank as she did with Brody. She’d always been able to come up with something – miserable childhood leading to an inability to commit, three marriages already and he’s never going to settle down, he should just admit he’s gay and only after friendship, serial cheater. Fiona was a realist, had been trained to think straight, rationally, and always relied on proof to reach her conclusions.