wasn’t you or me that she was running away from, it was her illness, those monsters within her – that’s what she was running from.’
I heard the front door close and I was on my own in the semi-dark kitchen. I went to the sink and splashed water onto my face. It felt ice cold and stung my cheeks.
Through the window, I saw Dad rubbing at a dent in the boot of his car with his fingertips. His face looked ashen and his eyes dark. I felt bad for him. It couldn’t have been easy raising me on his own, knowing that one day he would have to tell me what had really happened to my mum. How did you plan for something like that?
Maybe the death of Natalie and the girl in my flashes had opened up old scars, although I doubted if they had ever truly healed. Or maybe recent events had provided him with an opening he had always searched for but had never quite found. When would have been the right time to tell me what had really happened to my mum?
I’d left my dad to tinker with his car, like he so often did thesedays, and gone to my room. When it got dark, he’d set off to cabbie for the night, picking up the drunks from the pubs, bars and nightclubs.
I rolled over on my bed and looked at my iPhone. The battery was almost flat, but I couldn’t find the strength to climb from off my bed and recharge it. I felt like it was me who needed recharging. I checked for any unread messages. I don’t know why I bothered, to be honest. No one sent me texts these days, not since Natalie had gone. I thought of my father and wished we hadn’t rowed.
As I looked up at that pink lampshade, the one that I had stared up at for as long as I could remember, I couldn’t really blame Tom for not believing in my flashes. How could he make sense of what I had seen if I didn’t really understand myself ? Why did they come? Why had the flashes of Kerry been so strong – so intense? They had never been that strong before.
Perhaps it has something to do with mum, I thought. The flashes had started soon after she had died. I didn’t know what they were back then – just very vivid dreams – nightmares. I would wake, sobbing, my head throbbing. Dad would come to my bedroom and comfort me. But some nights when those flashes had been really bad and I just couldn’t be settled he would lift me into his arms and let me sleep next to him. I would lie in the dark and listen to the sound of him snoring. Other kids had counted sheep; I had counted my dad’s grunts and snorts until I drifted off.
My iPhone beeped. I went to my messages and could see that I had received a text from someone. At once my heart leapt. Had the text come from Natalie’s phone? I opened the text and squinted at it.
The text read, ‘I’ll pick you up at 9 2morrow morning. Wrap up warm and wear some wellies! Tom.’
Scraping my hair behind my ear, I couldn’t help but feel relieved the message was from Tom. But why did he want to meet up withme again? Was this a date? I doubted it. Who wore wellies on a date?
‘I’ll be waiting.’ I wrote. Smiling, I sent the message.
CHAPTER 12
Tom – Tuesday: 07:30 Hrs.
T he alarm clock woke me at 07:30 a.m., but after having only a few hours’ sleep, I stuck my hand out from beneath the covers and switched it off. I hadn’t slept well again. My tired mind scrambled with thoughts of Charley, dead girls under trains and the sobs of a heartbroken mother.
Just five more minutes, I told myself and promptly went back to sleep. I woke again at 08:36, and seeing the time, scrambled from my bed and into the shower. I was going to be late to pick up Charley. Being late wasn’t a good idea. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with her before I had to prepare for my evening shift.
I shaved with my hair still dripping wet, then threw on a clean but un-ironed shirt and a pair of jeans. As I raced from my flat and into my car, I checked my watch. 09:03. Shit!
Careful not to trigger any speed cameras, I sped across towntowards
I heard the front door close and I was on my own in the semi-dark kitchen. I went to the sink and splashed water onto my face. It felt ice cold and stung my cheeks.
Through the window, I saw Dad rubbing at a dent in the boot of his car with his fingertips. His face looked ashen and his eyes dark. I felt bad for him. It couldn’t have been easy raising me on his own, knowing that one day he would have to tell me what had really happened to my mum. How did you plan for something like that?
Maybe the death of Natalie and the girl in my flashes had opened up old scars, although I doubted if they had ever truly healed. Or maybe recent events had provided him with an opening he had always searched for but had never quite found. When would have been the right time to tell me what had really happened to my mum?
I’d left my dad to tinker with his car, like he so often did thesedays, and gone to my room. When it got dark, he’d set off to cabbie for the night, picking up the drunks from the pubs, bars and nightclubs.
I rolled over on my bed and looked at my iPhone. The battery was almost flat, but I couldn’t find the strength to climb from off my bed and recharge it. I felt like it was me who needed recharging. I checked for any unread messages. I don’t know why I bothered, to be honest. No one sent me texts these days, not since Natalie had gone. I thought of my father and wished we hadn’t rowed.
As I looked up at that pink lampshade, the one that I had stared up at for as long as I could remember, I couldn’t really blame Tom for not believing in my flashes. How could he make sense of what I had seen if I didn’t really understand myself ? Why did they come? Why had the flashes of Kerry been so strong – so intense? They had never been that strong before.
Perhaps it has something to do with mum, I thought. The flashes had started soon after she had died. I didn’t know what they were back then – just very vivid dreams – nightmares. I would wake, sobbing, my head throbbing. Dad would come to my bedroom and comfort me. But some nights when those flashes had been really bad and I just couldn’t be settled he would lift me into his arms and let me sleep next to him. I would lie in the dark and listen to the sound of him snoring. Other kids had counted sheep; I had counted my dad’s grunts and snorts until I drifted off.
My iPhone beeped. I went to my messages and could see that I had received a text from someone. At once my heart leapt. Had the text come from Natalie’s phone? I opened the text and squinted at it.
The text read, ‘I’ll pick you up at 9 2morrow morning. Wrap up warm and wear some wellies! Tom.’
Scraping my hair behind my ear, I couldn’t help but feel relieved the message was from Tom. But why did he want to meet up withme again? Was this a date? I doubted it. Who wore wellies on a date?
‘I’ll be waiting.’ I wrote. Smiling, I sent the message.
CHAPTER 12
Tom – Tuesday: 07:30 Hrs.
T he alarm clock woke me at 07:30 a.m., but after having only a few hours’ sleep, I stuck my hand out from beneath the covers and switched it off. I hadn’t slept well again. My tired mind scrambled with thoughts of Charley, dead girls under trains and the sobs of a heartbroken mother.
Just five more minutes, I told myself and promptly went back to sleep. I woke again at 08:36, and seeing the time, scrambled from my bed and into the shower. I was going to be late to pick up Charley. Being late wasn’t a good idea. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with her before I had to prepare for my evening shift.
I shaved with my hair still dripping wet, then threw on a clean but un-ironed shirt and a pair of jeans. As I raced from my flat and into my car, I checked my watch. 09:03. Shit!
Careful not to trigger any speed cameras, I sped across towntowards
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