Split Second (3 page)

‘This is Brian and Gail,’ she said. ‘Your uncle and his wife.’

My mouth fell open. Dad was a soldier who died in action when I was a baby and I’d only met his brother, my uncle, once or twice when I was younger. Brian looked different from how I
remembered him, more fleshy in the face with a definite paunch under his smart suit. I glanced at Gail. She was thin with a timid smile. I couldn’t remember her at all. Brian had gone to work
abroad when I was still very little. Mum had told me that he and my dad disliked each other and had hardly seen each other in years.

‘Hello, Charlotte.’ Brian strode towards me and gripped my hand. He pumped it up and down. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you again.’

‘Is it?’ I withdrew my hand. ‘If it’s such a pleasure, how come I haven’t seen you for, like, a million years?’

Beside me, Karen gasped. Across the room Gail’s eyes widened. She looked horrified. I folded my arms, filling up with anger. How dare she act so shocked? She and Brian hadn’t even
come to Mum’s funeral.

And then Brian laughed. A big, belly laugh. It transformed his face, softening all his features. I’d heard that laugh before. It sounded just like my dad’s in the films Mum used to
play of him. Of them together. When they always seemed to be laughing. I’d grown up watching those films, hearing the sound of Dad’s guffaws, seeing his eyes shining with love for
Mum.

I hated Brian for reminding me. Tears filled my eyes and I turned my face away, not wanting him to see how much losing Mum hurt.

Brian stopped laughing. There was a pause then he spoke in a low, gruff voice, quite different to the formal tone he’d used before.

‘I deserve that, Charlotte,’ he said. ‘I’m truly sorry for all that you’ve been through. My mother died when I was younger. I know how hard it is and I can’t
imagine how impossible it must be for you losing your mum at such a young age.’

I looked back at him. ‘I’m doing fine,’ I said, ‘and it’s Charlie, not Charlotte.’

‘Okay.’ Brian nodded. He beckoned his wife, who drifted nervously to his side, eyeing me as if I were a wild dog that might bite her if she wasn’t careful. ‘Gail and I
would like to help.’

I stared at them. ‘Help?’

‘Why don’t we all sit down?’ Karen tugged me onto the chair next to her. Brian and Gail sat opposite.

‘It’s been difficult, as you
know
, Charlie,’ Karen said. She laid her hand over mine. ‘I love you very much but I don’t think it’s really working
out. We’ve both said as much, so . . .’ She tailed off, not meeting my eyes.

‘You’re kicking me out?’ I said.

‘No.’ That was Brian. He leaned forward. ‘I’m back in London for work and living with the family full time instead of only at weekends. Gail and I
want
to have
you. We have a super house and I’ve got a great job at ViaTech – and a good job is a big deal these days, as you’ll know. Rosa’s your age. Well, she’s nearly ten
months younger, but you’re the same year at school. We’re your family. And I think it’s time we stepped in.’

‘We just want to help, Charlie,’ Gail said. Her eyes were round and soft. ‘I only met your mother a few times but I liked her. It’s a shame we lost touch. And I know we
should have done more over the past few months but with Brian spending so much time out of the country it’s been hard.’

I looked from her to Brian. ‘You want me to come and live with you?’ I turned to Karen. ‘You want me to go?’

Karen looked down. ‘It’s not that, exactly.’

Something twisted in my guts. It
was
that. Exactly.

‘We’d treat it as a trial,’ Brian said. ‘Like a holiday, trying it out for a couple of weeks. There’s no need to involve social services or do anything formal at
this stage.’

‘Does that mean I won’t have to go to school?’ I looked up.

Brian chuckled. ‘I’m afraid school is non-negotiable. This is an important year for you, with your GCSEs coming up. Anyway, trying out Rosa’s school is part of the reason for
coming to stay for a couple of weeks.’

‘It’s a great place, Charlie,’ Gail said. ‘Newbury Park. Rosa loves it. It’s private, with lots of super facilities.’

‘A
private
school?’ I sat back. Since the economy had got worse last year, lots of private schools had shut because parents couldn’t afford the fees. You had to be
really rich to go to one.

‘We’d be happy to pay for your place there if you decide to stay. It’s not a problem,’ Brian said.

I sat back, my head spinning. I’d never been to a private school before or mixed with private school kids. And I had no idea what Rosa would be like. On the other hand, the prospect of
getting away from here was tempting.

‘Where do you live?’ I asked.

‘North London,’ Gail said. ‘Near Hendon.’

I nodded. Back to London then . . . not far from where Mum and I had lived and even closer to where my dad had grown up. Near, in fact, to the market where Mum had been killed. Still, I could
avoid ever going there again. And no-one would tease me about my accent in London, either.

Brian stood up. ‘Take some time to think about it. I know things haven’t been easy for you this year. But Gail and I want to help, like we said.’ He sighed. ‘It’s
no secret that your dad and I didn’t get on, but that’s no reason you should suffer now. We’re staying overnight in a hotel nearby. Call if you’ve got any questions. Karen
has the number. We’ll come back in the morning, you can tell us what you’ve decided then. If you need more time, that’s fine.’

‘Right,’ I said. I looked at Karen. She was watching me carefully. I knew that if I refused to go she would let me stay with her. But was that what I really wanted?

‘So . . . the school, me going there for a trial period, that’s really okay too?’

‘Absolutely. You can even join Rosa’s house temporarily,’ Gail said.

I stared at her blankly.

‘They divide the kids into houses, so they can have mentors and a proper sense of identity. It’s a great system.’

‘Will you think about it?’ Brian asked.

I looked into his eyes. They were warm, strong, serious. Like my dad’s had been. A sob welled up inside me. I swallowed it down. Karen didn’t really want me. There was nothing to
keep me here.

‘I guess I could think about it,’ I said with a shrug. But inside I already knew I was going to say yes. After all, London was more my home than Leeds. And, in the end, it
didn’t matter where I was. Mum would never be there.

Wherever I went, I would always be alone.

I put my hand on Mum’s shoulder. She leaned towards me for a moment, then shifted forward in her chair, her eyes fixed once again on Lucas. I let my hand drop.

There had been a time, before the bomb, when we were still a family: all five of us watching TV together or Mum insisting we sat down for meals or that last holiday in Spain when Jas got
sunburn. But those memories belonged to another life. For the past six months Mum had spent most of her time in the hospital, as if somehow she could will Lucas back to consciousness simply by
watching him. The doctors held out only the faintest hope that he would ever wake up. He had been in a coma since the bomb went off.

And I had kept his secret.

‘Lucas looks better today, Nat, don’t you think?’ Mum glanced over her shoulder at me. ‘A bit more colour in his cheeks.’

‘Mmm.’ I shrugged, feeling awkward. As far as I could see Lucas looked the same as he always did: pale and still and kept alive only by the wires and tubes that ran in and out of his
body.

I walked to the door. Mum didn’t seem to notice. Lucas had always been her favourite, her ‘golden boy’, tragically left in a coma because he happened to be in the wrong place
at the wrong time. But I knew the truth. I knew that Lucas had been part of the terrorist team who set off the bomb in the market.

I still didn’t understand it. Lucas hadn’t been a violent person with extreme views. He hadn’t really been interested in politics at all. He’d admired the peaceful and
democratic new Future Party – and its leader, Roman Riley – but then so did virtually everyone. It just didn’t make sense that Lucas could have set off a bomb for the League of
Iron, a nasty, far-right group that spouted vicious and racist propaganda.

Having said that, Lucas
had
changed a month or two before the bomb. Previously happy-go-lucky and disorganised, he had acquired a new sense of purpose. His sixth form grades improved.
He made more effort around the house. He carried himself more proudly. And then, on the very day of the bomb, I’d overheard him on the phone, his voice tense and excited. I hadn’t
picked up much, but Lucas had definitely referred to an explosion which would happen ‘later today’ and the resulting ‘blast radius’. A few hours after the call I’d
screwed up enough courage to sneak a look in the pockets of his jacket and found the mobile phone he’d used . . . a
second
mobile that I hadn’t even known he had. And I’d
seen the text:

Take package – Canal St market, 3pm

I’d put the phone back in his jacket and psyched myself up to ask Lucas what was going on. But before I could say anything Lucas had grabbed his jacket and left the house. I followed him
to the market, but I was too late.

It ate away at me, not being able to tell anyone, but things at home were bad enough without me making them worse. The truth would destroy Mum and Dad – who would never understand how
Lucas had got mixed up with a Nazi outfit like the League of Iron – and it would devastate my twin sister, Jas. She had idolised Lucas as much as I had.

After the blast, I found Lucas’s phone with the incriminating text in his pocket. In a panic I’d thrown it away. For weeks I expected the police to come knocking at the door, but
Lucas wasn’t a suspect. He hadn’t been right next to the bomb when it went off and there was no trace of explosives on his clothes, so no-one connected him with the bombers. Perhaps the
device had detonated sooner than it was meant to, before Lucas had time to get away. I had no idea. All I knew was that Lucas, with his easy manner and crooked smile, was the opposite of
anyone’s idea of a terrorist.

I stood at the door of the hospital room. ‘I’m going to school now, Mum,’ I said.

Mum didn’t hear me. She was busy tucking Lucas’s arm under the cover, her anxious fingers stroking the underside of his wrist with its tiny, strange tattoo in the shape of an open
hand. None of us had even known it was there until after the bomb.

I dug my fists deep into my pockets as I walked away. I wanted to shout at Mum that there was no point fussing over Lucas, that he wasn’t coming back. But of course I couldn’t. There
were no raised voices in my family anymore. Our house didn’t even really feel like a home, it was just somewhere we all slept.

I dawdled along to school, seriously considering bunking off for the rest of the day. A couple of tramps shuffled past me. There were homeless people on practically every street now. I kicked an
empty can of beer across the pavement. I couldn’t bunk off again. It would just mean more stress for Mum and Dad.

It started to rain and I sped up, pulling my school blazer over my head. It was Lucas’s old blazer – and slightly too big for me. Most of my school uniform was Lucas’s now. It
had felt weird at first putting on his clothes, but I had grown almost two inches in the past six months and my own stuff didn’t fit anymore. It was obvious Mum wasn’t up to replacing
my uniform, even if we could have afforded new clothes, so I took Lucas’s.

Out of habit, I checked the League of Iron forum as I hurried along the street. I had spent a long time trying to find out who Lucas had known in the League, hoping it would lead me to someone
who could explain why my older brother had wanted to bomb the Canal Street market. But, so far, I’d discovered nothing. I checked a few threads. As usual there was plenty of anger against the
Government and support for the League, now proposing that all black people should have their benefits stopped or their jobs taken away. Some forum users even wanted all non-whites and new
immigrants rounded up into camps and killed.

I sighed. I understood how frustrating it was to see people on benefits when others, like Dad, worked sixteen-hour days. Still, a lot of people couldn’t work through no fault of their own.
And why did the League of Iron have to take their anger out on black people? It didn’t make sense. Still, maybe I needed to get more involved, pretend to share the League’s disgusting
views. My tentative efforts to find out if anyone on the forum knew Lucas certainly hadn’t worked so far. I logged in with my user name:
AngelOfFire
, then bent over my phone, writing
in the ‘add your comment’ box:

Killing people should be TARGETED. We need to destroy EVERYONE standing in our way: blacks, Muslims, corrupt politicians, bankers, scroungers. It means BOMBS, not talk. Not stupid
politicians who wimp out from DOING anything.

I pressed the ‘post’ button and my comment appeared live on the forum. I checked the time. I had already missed registration which probably meant another detention. I trudged along
as the rain poured down, matching my mood. Sometimes it felt that nothing had changed and that nothing was ever going to change.

‘We’re here.’ Uncle Brian pointed out of the car window.

We had parked outside an enormous house. Wow, Brian and Gail must be really rich. Gail turned from the passenger seat and smiled at me.

‘Rosa can’t wait to see you,’ she said. ‘She’s so excited.’

‘Don’t worry, Charlie,’ Brian said softly. ‘This is just a trial period, remember? No pressure.’

I nodded but inside I felt all churned up. Getting away at such short notice from a school I hated and leaving behind the constant rows with Aunt Karen was one thing, but now I was actually on
the verge of a new life the reality seemed overwhelming. For a moment I missed Mum so badly my stomach hurt. I gritted my teeth, refusing to give in to the pain. This was a fresh beginning, a
chance to start over.
That’s
what I had to focus on.