Flip by Martyn Bedford Page A

you at the hospital? he wanted to ask. The answer loomed over him—obvious and incredible at the same time—but he had to hear it from them . Had to have it spelled out for him, because he was too shocked and exhilarated to let himself believe it.
    “How is he?” Alex asked, so softly he wasn’t sure his father heard him.
    Dad stiffened. “Sorry?” he said, hard-faced all of a sudden.
    “I … I was wondering how Alex is.”
    Dad held his gaze. Pushed the answer out like a challenge: “He’s in a bloody coma, how d’you think he is? Same as yesterday. Same as last week. Same as last month, and the month before that and the—”
    “Ed.”
    “Why are you here, exactly?”
    “I—”
    “Philip’s from the Year Nine Council,” his mum said. Dad’s attention shifted to her; he paused in the kitchen doorway. As she said why Alex had come round, it sounded even more dubious than Alex’s own explanation had. His father’s face grew so pale it looked like it had been drained of blood.
    “A memorial ?”
    “No,” she said, “he didn’t say a—”
    “That’s what it is, though. A memorial trophy. Jesus. ” Turning to Alex again, he said, “Couldn’t you even have the decency to wait till he’s—”
    “Ed, please.”
    “And what were you doing up there just now? Were you in Alex’s room?”
    Alex flinched, as though the words were gobbets of spit.
    “Please, he’s just a lad. A friend. ” Mum came along the hall, stepping between them and placing a hand on Dad’s sleeve. “It’s inappropriate, I told Ph—”
    “ Inappropriate . You bet it’s inappropriate.”
    Alex came close to calling him Dad, but managed to stop himself. “Mr. Gray, look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just turned up like this.”
    “Philip, is it? Philip what?”
    Alex hesitated. “Garamond.”
    “Garamond. I’ve never heard Alex mention you before. Fran, have you?”
    “Philip, you’ll have to excuse—”
    “Sam, have you seen this lad before?”
    Alex’s brother had appeared in the living room doorway, no doubt lured from his video game by the commotion in the hall. Earlier, Alex had longed to see Sam’s face, and now there it was, his expression set between suspicion and outright hostility. He studied Alex for a moment, then shook his head.
    “Right, I’m phoning David.” Dad jabbed Alex in the chest, as though sticking a drawing pin in him. “ You , wait here.”
    “Oh, Ed, this is ridiculous. Can’t you see how upset he is?”
    His dad disappeared into the lounge, almost barging Sam out of the way. The boy stayed there a moment, staring at Alex, before following his father into the room.
    Alex’s mouth was so dry he couldn’t swallow.
    “We’ve had a few cranks,” Mum said. Round-shouldered with weariness, she gave him an apologetic look. “Hoax calls, letters, e-mails. You can’t imagine. Reporters camped outside—going through our bins, one time; or they ring up, pretending to be someone else. We had to change our phone number in the end.”
    “I should just go,” he said.
    “Alex’s dad’s under a lot of strain. We all are.”
    Dad’s voice carried from the lounge. “Terence, it’s Ed Gray.… Look, is David there? … Yeah.… No, no, there’s just something he can help me with.… Thanks.”
    Mum looked close to tears, like this was all too much and she just wanted to sit down at the foot of the stairs and bury her face in her hands. What had Alex done, coming here? It was crazy. A thoughtless, selfish act of madness.
    “David? Hello, mate …”
    “I’m so sorry,” Alex said. “I really didn’t want it to happen like this.”
    Before she caught on to what he was doing, he turned away from his mother, grabbed his bag and released the door latch.
    He’d never run so fast along these streets of his childhood, his arms chopping the air, his feet thumping on the pavement, breath hot in his throat. It was such an adrenaline rush. As soon as he could, Alex turned off into