My thoughts flicker on and off, frames of time stutter and break, and then I wake again to carbon-black, my body rocking, and I think for a while I’m in a bunk on a train. There’s a
dog in here with me, its dirty paws are on my school skirt. I try to shout but it’s a whisper. Then I’m at Mum’s house in a cupboard and it’s locked. I’ve been in here
for a long time and I don’t want to come out. There’s a sharp pain in my thigh, and I remember when I came home earlier, Mike’s motorbike was in our driveway, parked where Peter
used to leave his car before he stopped coming to visit. I walked round to the back of the house and found Mike in the kitchen, bending down by the open fridge. When he saw me he stood up, but he
wasn’t surprised or embarrassed even though he was in my house without being invited. His chest was bare and his jeans were undone showing the top of his Y-fronts, and he was holding a pint
of milk. I opened my mouth to talk but no words came. Instead I half smiled, thinking that in a minute he’d let me in on the joke. He pressed the foil lid into the bottle and dug his middle
finger into the cream, then put the creamy plug of his finger in his mouth and sucked. After that he swigged the whole pint from the bottle. Little streams of white ran down his chin and spotted
the floor. When he finished he left the bottle on the side. A fly buzzed round the top. Mike walked from the kitchen and up the stairs. I followed. Mum’s bedroom door was open. He went into
her room and sat on her bed with his back to me. Mum was facing the door and lay naked on her stomach on top of the sheets. On her windowsill was a pot of yellow chrysanthemums, smelling hot and
syrupy in the sunshine. She held the bald stem of one of the flowers in her hand, then chucked it to one side on top of all the petals she’d already pulled off, like a game of ‘He loves
me, he loves me not’. She said, ‘What’s the matter, Rachel?’ lifting herself up on to her elbows to light a cigarette. ‘Cat got your tongue?’ The ends of her
fingers were stained blue and her breasts stretched down so that her nipples brushed the covers. I ran to my room, hid in the cupboard and put the padlock on. Mum had thrown my schoolbooks inside
and all of Dad’s letters and pens, plus some toys I’d kept from when I was younger. There were splodges of ink all over my stuff and on the carpet where Mum must have squeezed out the
cartridges. I tried not to think about what she was doing with Mike in the other room, and I knew if I told anyone they’d never believe me. There’d be more lies to tell, one heaped on
top of the other until I couldn’t remember what was at the bottom any more. I didn’t know if Mike would still expect me to ride home with him after school, or if he’d try to kiss
me still. I picked up one of Dad’s fountain pens. The nib curved into a sleek point as if it had been sharpened with a Stanley knife. I pressed the metal tip on my thigh. It sunk like a
slippery fish deep into my leg.
The car passes over bumps in the road and the pain jolts me awake. I open and shut my eyes several times but it’s as dark both ways. From somewhere near there’s a red glow from the
tail lights, and I try to kick them out but I’ve no strength in my legs.
Again sleep comes, no choice, less like rest, more of a black hole, as if I’m sliding down a mountainside of scree.
Blank it out, turn off my thoughts, bury them.
Voices wake me – Will and the other man – bartering.
Will says, ‘Let me do it. You can keep your share but I want to finish the job.’
The other man says, ‘I don’t care, do what you want. Easier for me this way. What you got against her anyway?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Just like it, eh?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Please yourself.’
‘I will.’
The other man laughs and I hear a door shut and a car drive away.
The boot is cold and my wet trousers cling-film to my legs. Underneath me the plastic sheet puckers as I feel around the space for something to use as a weapon, something I can swing at Will
when he opens the boot. At his head or balls? I try to remember which is more effective, but I’ll make it worse if I miss. My freezing fingers find nothing hard or long or heavy. Only fluff
and bags. A pair of walking shoes. Dry mud crumbles under my nails.
I wait for Will to come, for the boot to lift open and his hands to pounce. My teeth and nails are ready. Fear bends seconds into eternity. And then the car starts again and we are driving.
Disappointment. That I have to wait longer, that it’s not yet over. Waiting for the inevitable.
The journey stretches across continents of time, only the noise of the engine and exhaust fumes, cold, some shivers of sleep, then a dawn of sorts; edges of light fingering the gaps through
which my body can’t pass. Gulls screeching. The car stops. Footsteps pace round the car. Silence. Click of the boot. Open, and Will’s head bursting through an electric sky. I beetle
into the farthest crevice but it’s not far enough, and there’s nowhere else to go.
God, let it happen. Be done with it.
His hands stretch in. ‘Shh,’ he says, ‘it’s OK.’ My body is rigid, flesh and muscles nearly dead. Will’s fingers are strong and warm, but he can’t grasp
the rock of my body.
‘I’m not going to hurt you again,’ he says. ‘I promise.’
He grips my clothes, pulls, and I slide across the plastic, my broken face bumping objects hidden underneath. Nerve endings sense pain but it’s distant, then Will’s arms grab round
me and he heaves me out and sits me on the ground next to the car.
I am solid. Then I shake and shake like I’ll shatter.
Will takes off his coat and wraps it over the top of my dad’s, the layers heavy. The material falls and he crouches at my side, picks it up and lays the coat once again over my back. His
face is close to mine now. ‘I’m sorry I hit you,’ he says. ‘It was the only way they’d believe me. And I had to stop you from saying my name.’ He looks left and
right, then back at me. ‘David doesn’t know about us, do you understand? Not everyone’s come out of this alive. Let’s not give them any more fuck-ups.’
I can hear his words, but I don’t understand them. Will stands. I flinch and cover my head with my hands. He scans the countryside, then relaxes down beside me again. I shiver and he holds
the tops of my arms to steady me.
‘Rachel,’ he says, turning my chin gently and forcing me to look into his face. A shard of pain shoots through my jaw and I wince. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’ He lets go
and takes a breath. ‘Please understand, I’m trying to help you.’ My eyes dart in all directions, but in the end there’s nowhere else for them to rest apart from on Will.
‘You have to trust me,’ he says. ‘We haven’t got much time. This is it for you as far as David’s concerned. I’m only here because I move in the wrong
circles.’ He sits next to me, but not so close that we touch, and he stares into the middle distance. ‘I was so angry with you, Rachel. But I’d never . . .’ He puts his head
in his hands, and I can hear his heavy breathing behind his arms. Then he stands with a sudden energy and kicks the car. The door dents. He strides up the beach, taking a moment before coming back
and standing in front of me. ‘Look, I never wanted you dead, all right? I wouldn’t go that far. I’m sorry I didn’t help you when you asked me. But you really fucked with my
head.’
Everything on my body shakes like it’s minus forty.
‘We haven’t got time for this. If I’m gone too long, they’ll know something’s up.’ He paces in front of me. ‘They’re waiting for me to get back
with your car so they can get rid of it.’ He leans down and tries to pull me up by my arm. ‘Come on, Rachel, for God’s sake, you’ve got to help me. You need to pull yourself
together.’
He locks his arms round me to pull me up. His coat falls off my back, and his breath is damp and warm on my cheek. As soon as I’m standing he releases me again and looks away. His voice is
small. ‘I’ve never hit a woman before.’ He sniffs and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. ‘Jesus, Rachel, when will you learn that it’s not all about you? How many
more people have to get hurt before you get it together?’
My legs buckle beneath me and Will lunges forward. As he grabs me, I fling my arms round him and hold on tight. Will lowers his arms and they swing loose at his sides. We stand like this for a
minute and for the first time I look over his shoulder to see where we are. It’s the coast, a small bay. A few boats wobble on the water in the milky dawn. In the distance two spits of land
curve round the water holding in the sea, and through the gap in the middle the horizon folds up into the sky: degrees of grey, ocean and ether one entity.
Will sighs, puts his hands under my armpits and stands me apart from him, balancing me like a broken toy before he lets go and I’m standing on my own. He nods towards one of the boats: a
small fishing vessel about thirty foot long, grubby, no sails, a cabin on top. A man stands on the deck and stares at us. Water fizzes at the back of the boat where the engine churns the water.
‘John will take you across the Channel to Ireland, Wexford, or a beach thereabouts, but as close as possible to a town without you being seen.’ Will looks back to me and stammers.
‘When you get to the coast you’ll have to lie low for a bit before you can get off, and when it’s safe John’ll take you to shore in the tender.’
My eyebrows drag into a frown and Will understands my question without me asking.
‘It’s a dinghy. You can’t take a boat this big up to the shore. And you won’t need a passport, no one will be checking where you’re going, not that it’s much
of an issue if it’s in a small port either, but just to be sure.’
‘I’m scared,’ I say, my voice rusty after such a long pause. ‘I don’t want to go.’
‘Well, you’ve got no choice. You can trust John, he’s family.’
‘How do I know he’ll get me there? He could do anything to me out on the sea and no one would know.’
‘Rachel,’ Will says, staring at me directly, ‘if I wanted to kill you I’d have done it by now.’
A peep of sun rises over the horizon, and the man on the boat revs the engine. I wonder if John is the family Will has been looking for.
‘Come with me,’ I say.
‘I can’t.’
‘Please.’
Will’s face reddens. ‘Look,’ he raises his voice, ‘you’re taking the piss. If I don’t go back they’ll know something’s up, then they’ll
really come looking for you, and I don’t know if I can protect you again. This is the best I can do. If you think what I did was bad, you wait to see what other psychos David’s got
waiting in the wings. He can afford to do what he wants.’
‘We could disappear, like you always said.’
‘It’s too late, Rachel. You can’t keep playing me like this.’
‘I’m not playing you any more. And I’m sorry. For everything.’
‘No you’re not.’
‘Yes I am.’ I shake again, but this time it’s with anger, not fear, and I’m shouting. Will looks around and shushes me. My voice doesn’t sound like my own, but the
words keep rolling out. ‘I didn’t want things to turn out like this, I had no choice in the matter. Everything was taken away from me, years ago. You have no idea. Since then, all my
life I’ve been treading water.’
‘All right, all right. Keep your hair on.’ Will flaps his hands at me. ‘This isn’t the time or the place.’ His eyes are wide and they sparkle. ‘You have been
such a bitch to me, Rachel, and still you think I owe you something. Like I said before, I am done. This is as good as it gets, my parting gift to you. You have to go now or you’re putting us
both in danger.’
‘Well, this is my choice now,’ I say, my voice quieter, ‘the first I’ve ever had, and I want you to come with me.’
‘No.’
‘As long as you understand, that what I want is you.’
Will scuffs at the dusty pebbles but won’t look at me. ‘It’s time,’ he says, and walks to the boat, stopping halfway when I don’t follow.
The sun lifts higher and bleaches through the mist. I look directly at the light and my eyes go water blind until they hurt and I shut them. Bright memory spots of sun morph like hot oil under
my eyelids then disappear. Yesterday was the shortest day of the year. From now on each day will accrue a fraction more light. As I open my eyes my vision clears and I step forward, then stride
past Will to the shoreline. The man has left the fishing boat and is rowing a small dinghy towards us.
‘You’ll need this,’ Will says, catching me up and stuffing an envelope in my pocket. ‘It won’t last for ever, but it’ll keep you going for a while. Get you
set up.’
I look down at the wedge of notes inside the envelope, all used fifties and twenties. The package sits in my pocket on top of the few small bones I’d picked up outside Seamus’s
caravan, and to one side is the crumpled flower from Peter’s room. All the petals have come off. The stalk is mushed to brown with only the old seed head left on top.
Gulls circle and screech overhead.
‘You can’t come back, Rachel,’ Will says as he tucks my coat pocket shut. ‘Do you understand? David thinks you’re dead. If he knows you’re still alive, he
will find you and kill you. He’ll come for me too.’
I look directly at him: the whites of his eyes are stained red, and the features of a gentle boy are almost lost underneath his worn complexion. How different it could have been for him if
he’d had a better start, if he’d had the safety nets he needed along the way.
‘I’m sorry it has to be this way,’ he says.
‘It’s not your fault. And it’s not mine either.’
I have a sense of falling as the scaffolding drops away. My constructs crumble. Without the poisonous repetition of lies and blame, all that’s left is a small point, dense with sweet and
painful memory. I step inside my bones. I fill them, and I rise.
Will opens his mouth to say something, but no words come. He closes his lips tight. I move to him and lean my body on to his chest with my eyes shut. Rain dusts my face, the drops fresh and
light. I reach a circle round his back and pull in tight. He pauses for a moment, then folds me in his arms. The warmth of him seeps into my skin.
No conditions in this moment, nothing hinged that will break off and cause an avalanche. Only this fragment of time exists. Pure. Like no other I have had. Time will move forward, but these
seconds will always have been.