What You Become (20 page)

‘I managed to calm her down, saying I’d go and get Will if she’d let me have the whisky, and she was just crying, sitting under the crab-apple trees, and she seemed to be snapping out of it. I left her listening to Charlie and Alex wrecking “You’re the One that I Want”, thinking I might be able to grab Will, but there were kids on all the doors, and I didn’t want to leave her long, so I ran back, thinking I’d just make something up, but when I got there she’d gone.’

‘Shit.’

‘She’d had this parcel with her, things Will had given her – those stupid Twilight books, and her red scarf, and some letters – she’d been carrying it with her the whole time, and when I got back from my lap, she was crouched down by the Drama block, watching it burn.’

I turned to face Ti. She held her top lip as she talked.

‘I knew it wasn’t you! For god’s sake, Ti! Why did you say it was you? And why do you have to leave as well?’

‘I haven’t told you the whole story yet. It’s more complicated than that. The fire was partly my fault. Partly Will’s fault too.’

‘How? That doesn’t make sense. From what you just told me—’

‘You promised to listen.’

‘Okay, fine, I’ll listen. Just don’t hold anything back. How did Will get involved?’

Ti’s voice lowered. ‘Because we saved his life . . .’

Forty-four

‘It turns out they’d been planning to leave for weeks. Phe hadn’t told me because she didn’t want me getting into trouble if Dad found out, but the plan was to leave after the show, and then, out of the blue, Will just said it was too much, that he couldn’t cope with the secrecy.

‘Phe didn’t believe him – they had everything ready, all their stuff packed in his shed – and she didn’t understand what had changed. She thought it must be because of Chase, and Will admitted it.’

‘What, they actually
were
having an affair?’

‘That’s what he said, and that’s when she came home, in bits, and started attacking us all, and it just got out of control.’

‘I can’t believe it.’

‘Yeah, but he was lying. He just said it to get rid of her, because she wouldn’t believe anything else, and he was scared. Because it turns out that Dad had caught him after he left the bakery – earlier on – and grabbed him round the neck, and told him he’d better end it.’

‘How did Fab find out?’

‘Sophie told him. Somehow Charlie knew.’

My stomach turned over as I remembered telling Kiaru and Alisha. Had I played a part in this whole disaster as well?

‘Phe was meant to be meeting Will at his mum’s car after the play, then they would collect their stuff from his shed and leave, so as soon as we realized we couldn’t stop the fire, we ran there. I didn’t want to, the alarms were going off and people were rushing out of the hall, and I was scared we’d be seen, but Phe wouldn’t leave without seeing him.’

‘I must have missed you by seconds,’ I said.

‘He was fuming when he turned up, and he knew straight away what was what because we were both hiding behind the car, but he took us to the shed anyway, so Phe could get her stuff at least, and she was giving him loads of shit, threatening to report Chase to the police and calling him a coward and a cheat, and he was just silent all the way, in this old-fashioned suit with his hair slicked up.’

For the first time I wondered at what precise point in the play the alarms had gone off, and if the cast had managed to finish the performance they’d rehearsed so intently. Ophelia really knew how to cause a disturbance.

‘I was in a daze, because I’d been rushing around for so long, panicking, and now the school was on fire, and I was on the run, and Dad had hit me. I was just watching the rain, which had started pouring, hoping it would put the fire out before it got too bad, and then, all of a sudden, Will started shouting back.

‘We were on Castle Road, on that bend near the car park, and he just . . . lost control of the car. It veered left, and we went crashing off the road, through the trees down there. I thought we were dead. We were right by the spot where those girls went off the cliff last year – what were their names?’

‘Emily and Amelia.’ I said. I would never forget their names. Emily had been racing around the castle, like lots of the Beacon kids did, except she had misjudged the turn and was unable to stop in time, and her new car had gone careering off the cliff with her best friend in the passenger seat. The road had been designated a driving black spot, and speed bumps were scheduled. Amelia’s grieving parents talked about it on Pirate FM quite often. They were the ones who had petitioned the council.

‘Emily and Amelia, that’s it . . . There were still flowers around the tree; I saw them as we passed. I saw everything. I could see branches ripping off as we hit, they were slowing us down, and then the car stopped, just before we went over the edge – like something from a film – and me and Phe threw ourselves out, but Will was stuck. His seat belt wouldn’t budge, and he was shouting, and the car just tilted there, right on the edge of the cliff, about to go over any second.’

‘Jesus Christ.’

‘It was insane. I still can’t believe it. I was frozen. I couldn’t move. If it wasn’t for Phe . . . She was like an action hero; she knew exactly what to do. She pulled a piece of glass from the smashed windscreen and started hacking at the seat belt. Will was crying, like a little boy, telling her to hurry up, and all I could think was that the car was going to topple over with her still leaning in the window, but then she’d sawed through it, and we pulled him out, and less than a second later the car went.

‘The noise it made, Rosie. It was so loud. It crashed on to the rocks – it was like an explosion – all the birds flew up from the reef. Will was proper white, like a ghost, he just lay completely still on the ground. We all did. None of us saying anything, getting soaked.

‘It was his idea to leave our clothes on the beach. We all felt really calm, like we had to stick together . . . Afterwards, when the shock wore off. Will admitted he had been lying about Chase, and told us what had happened with Dad, and Ophelia admitted she’d started the fire. And it was weird. I can’t explain it. We’d almost died, but we hadn’t, and being alive was this huge present, and we knew that if we had died, people would have forgiven us. For everything.’

Her necklace was still clutched in my hand, and I held it out now. She took it from me.

‘You got a new chain,’ she said.

‘How did you break it? Did you rip it off your neck?’

‘I can’t explain. It was like we were becoming free of everything.’

‘You wanted to be free of me?’

‘I thought you wanted to be free of me! That’s what it felt like.’

‘I don’t want to be free of you, Ti, I never want to be free of you. I’m so sorry I made you feel like that. I’m sorry for . . . what I said. About . . . prison.’

‘Maybe you had a point,’ Ti said, sitting up. Reaching behind her head, she fastened the necklace, settled it to rest between her clavicles. ‘Anyway, thank you. I don’t know . . . It seemed right when Will said it, like the only answer.’

‘And how about now? Does it seem like the only answer now?’

Ti shrugged, too wrapped up in her story. ‘Will sneaked back into his to get some of Charlie’s old clothes, and me and Ophelia got undressed, and then we paddled along the shore to the rocks so our footprints wouldn’t be in the sand, and it was so cold I thought we were going to die, and then Will brought us this stuff to put on.’

‘And what about now?’ I said, again, pushing. ‘Do you regret it now?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to go to The Bridge and I don’t want to work in the café. No one here likes me – except for you and Phe, and she’s not going to be here any more anyway . . . and you’ve, you know, got other friends.’

‘Not like you. None like you. Dad took my phone, you know. I didn’t see your calls till after.’

Ti shrugged. ‘It’s okay.’

‘It isn’t,’ I said. ‘I should have been there. Maybe none of this would have happened.’

‘Maybe it would have been worse,’ she said, and I imagined Ophelia on the rampage without Ti following her about.

‘So how come you’re still here?’

‘Will’s getting a car for his birthday. We’re going to drive to London, and find somewhere to live.’

‘Really?’ I wanted to say how unrealistic that sounded, but Ti could hardly keep her eyes open. ‘When?’

‘Saturday. There’s no going back, not now,’ Ti said, and her voice was soft and sleepy, her breathing shallow. ‘Not unless . . .’

‘Unless what?’

‘Chase gets better.’

‘I’m going to make it up to you,’ I said, and Ti murmured something I couldn’t catch.

Resting my head against the arm of the settee, I watched steam rise from her socks in front of the blow heater, while fog crept up the windows.

‘I’ll go and see Chase for you,’ I said, but Ti’s breathing had shifted. She was fast asleep.

Forty-five

The hospital was up the road from school, a big concrete fronted building that I’d visited lots of times before Grandad died two summers ago. Inside it was white-painted and busy, with medical staff charging to and fro. Non-medical people looked blank-eyed or sad or super-charged: a girl on crutches, a gowned man with magazines.

My heart galloped, another day at the races, but I was getting used to it. I breathed in my new way, in and out slowly. My only idea of how Chase was, and where she might be, had come from what Charlie had said, and she’d been lying. Grandad had been so thin at the end that you could feel his bones when you hugged him, and walking to intensive care without a breaking heart felt lucky and wrong in equal parts.

Waiting rooms, corridors, optimistic murals intended to distract dying people. Plants, a bald toddler, over-cheerful parents. I exited the lift with a doctor smiling over his text messages, and sneaked through the door that he was buzzed through without him noticing.

The carnations I’d bought on the way slipped in my sweating palm as I arrived at the nurse’s station. ‘I’m her niece,’ I said to the severe-looking woman that questioned me. She had thick blonde hair scraped into a huge donut on top of her head and broad shoulders.

‘Is she doing okay?’ My voice sounded hollow, and for the first time in my life I wished I were better at faking, that I’d paid more attention in Drama.

‘Oh, she’s in good hands, hen,’ she said with a thick Scottish accent, friendlier than she looked. ‘What pretty flowers! We’ll have to find another vase for the waiting room, they can’t go into the ICU – well-loved lady your auntie, isn’t she? It’s chock-a-block in there with cards and flowers and balloons. But I can’t let you see her.’

I froze.

‘I’m sorry, poppet. Nice try, but I have it on good authority that Ms Chase is an only child. No nieces or nephews, though they do keep turning up. It’s sweet, but your teacher’s very ill. Last thing she needs is a load of teenage germs getting to her. We’re very careful here, hen; we have to be. I’ll find that vase, shall I?’

She took the flowers, as I was backing off, away from her knowing smile, and into the nearest toilet.

I
needed
to see Chase for myself. To collect the facts for Ti. I’d woken her before dawn, and she’d leapt up in a panic and rushed back to Will’s shed, but before she left I’d promised her that this evening I’d have news she could trust.

After splashing cold water on to my face, I rested my forehead on the mirror. My hair needed washing, and I had bags under my eyes, and I remembered something I’d heard Ms Chase say dozens of times before: to be a good actor you have to fool yourself. I needed to channel my panic over Ti and lack of sleep into concern for my poorly aunt. Perhaps every staff member wouldn’t be so well-informed. Perhaps I could fool somebody.

P. M. A. This nurse
would
let me pass. Forcing my feet to retrace their steps, I walked to try again. This time it was a different woman, older and more distracted, and I smiled sadly, remembering Grandad and how it felt in those last visits with him. How I still regretted not hugging him more.

A tear rolled down my cheek, and I didn’t wipe it.

‘I’m here to see my godmother, Laurie Chase,’ I said.

‘Good for you, and did they make sure you used the antiseptic wash on your way in?’ she asked, and I nodded, turning my head away as I caught sight of the blonde donut bobbing around in a half-curtained area just to our left.

‘She’s quite poorly, so be prepared,’ she said, coming out from behind the desk. ‘It’s good to keep a low-key reaction, if you can. Talk as you normally would.’

The nurse lifted her ID card to the sensor, and we were through into the ICU. Chase’s bed loomed ahead of me, like the danger room at the end of a nightmare.

Patients were enclosed in separate capsules, and I could see them lying under pale blue sheets. No one did a crossword, or watched TV or listened to music, like Mum since her illness struck. These people were solely recovering. That was the only activity taking place here.

The nurse led me to the last capsule on the right. A body was propped up against pillows, and at first I thought it must be the wrong person because this couldn’t be Ms Chase.

Her head was wrapped in bandages, and she was alone. Her face tilted to the left, mouth open and out breaths audible, a tube led from her nose, and her eyes were closed. A machine beeped out her heartbeat.

The shock of it made me jump back from the bed.

‘She’s on a lot of painkillers for the burns,’ the nurse said. ‘But you can still read to her or talk to her. That’s what her mum does.’

I nodded, shell-shocked –
Ms Chase had a mum
– staying back, near the entrance to her area, I knew I shouldn’t be here. ‘Is she going to be all right?’ I managed to say, and the nurse squeezed my shoulder before looking me in the eye.

‘She’s not out of the woods yet, doll, but she’s being very brave, and you need to be brave too.’

Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

Sweat poured from my palms and I wiped them on my jeans. It hadn’t been real when I bought the flowers. I had been focused on Ti. I hadn’t understood. Intensive care wasn’t for ill people; it was for people who might die.