reiki on me, her hands cupped over my face, and I had my eyes closed and I could smell something warm and minty on the palms of her hands, and then she said his name – ‘Tommy’ – just like that. ‘You lost your brother Tommy.’”
Al’s brother Tommy died in a motorbike accident when he was eighteen and she was fifteen. It happened the day after she came out to her parents, after she’d been suspended from school for punching a girl who was spreading a rumour that Al was a dirty dyke who checked out Year 8 girls in the changing rooms. Her dad had flatly refused to discuss the matter, while her mum reacted with tears and recriminations, blaming Al’s lesbianism on everything from the ibuprofen she’d taken when pregnant with Al, to the fact that they’d let Al play with her brother’s toys. Al couldn’t deal with it so she packed a bag and caught the bus into town. Tommy found the note she’d left on the kitchen table when he got back from work, and went after her. He was hit by a car that was pulling out at a T-junction. Eye-witnesses said Tommy was driving over the speed limit and the driver didn’t see him until too late.
“Seriously, Emma. She knew everything about him. She knew about the motorbike. She knew how old we were. She knew his last words and about Mum and Dad arguing about whether he’d want to donate his organs. She knew everything.”
“Have you told anyone here about him? Maybe she overheard you talking to Leanne or Daisy.”
“No. I haven’t mentioned Tommy once. Not once. And no one knows what his last words were apart from me, Mum and Dad, and you guys.”
“Someone must have told her.”
“Who? I’ve never told anyone apart from you, Daisy and Leanne. Isis said that if you let go of all your worldly attachments, it opens up a channel within you that the spirit world can reach, and … and … Fuck!” She clutches her hands to the sides of her head as though she’s trying to shake the thoughts out. “She said Tommy was in the room with us. She kept saying his last words to me, over and over and over. I can’t stay here, Emma. This isn’t what I came here for. It’s not what I wanted. It’s fucked up. It’s too fucked up.”
I catch Al as she falls into me, and hold her quivering shoulders as she sobs into the crook of my neck. The door to the hut next to mine opens and Isis steps, blinking, into the sunshine. She catches my eye and smiles. I don’t smile back.
Chapter 13
Present Day
I’m still staring at the note. It’s not Will’s handwriting. The letter “a” is formed differently throughout the note, with a loop at the top, more like the “a” on a keyboard rather than an enclosed “o” with a tail.
I thump the van’s steering wheel with the flat of my hand in frustration.
Of course
it’s not Will’s handwriting. What possible motive would he have for trying to scare me like that? Everyone who knows him – including his head teacher and the board of governors – thinks he’s a good man. He’s either fooled us all and he’s a high-functioning sociopath, or he’s as trustworthy and caring as he appears.
I was being ridiculous even considering he was responsible for the letter. Ridiculous and paranoid. I was lying to myself when I said that your past doesn’t shape your future. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. Your memories are the one thing you can’t run from, the one thing you can’t change.
I slide my mobile out of my pocket and tap the keyboard with my thumb. I need to apologise to Will for running off when he put Chloe to bed last night. I overreacted when I saw he’d been reading Al’s article about Ekanta Yatra on his iPad. Whatever his reasons for reading it, surely he can’t have had any kind of malicious intent. We need to talk.
I
need to talk. I compose a careful text.
Sorry about last night, Will. The alarm went off at work and I was worried someone had broken in to take their dog.
I delete the last sentence. I have to
Al’s brother Tommy died in a motorbike accident when he was eighteen and she was fifteen. It happened the day after she came out to her parents, after she’d been suspended from school for punching a girl who was spreading a rumour that Al was a dirty dyke who checked out Year 8 girls in the changing rooms. Her dad had flatly refused to discuss the matter, while her mum reacted with tears and recriminations, blaming Al’s lesbianism on everything from the ibuprofen she’d taken when pregnant with Al, to the fact that they’d let Al play with her brother’s toys. Al couldn’t deal with it so she packed a bag and caught the bus into town. Tommy found the note she’d left on the kitchen table when he got back from work, and went after her. He was hit by a car that was pulling out at a T-junction. Eye-witnesses said Tommy was driving over the speed limit and the driver didn’t see him until too late.
“Seriously, Emma. She knew everything about him. She knew about the motorbike. She knew how old we were. She knew his last words and about Mum and Dad arguing about whether he’d want to donate his organs. She knew everything.”
“Have you told anyone here about him? Maybe she overheard you talking to Leanne or Daisy.”
“No. I haven’t mentioned Tommy once. Not once. And no one knows what his last words were apart from me, Mum and Dad, and you guys.”
“Someone must have told her.”
“Who? I’ve never told anyone apart from you, Daisy and Leanne. Isis said that if you let go of all your worldly attachments, it opens up a channel within you that the spirit world can reach, and … and … Fuck!” She clutches her hands to the sides of her head as though she’s trying to shake the thoughts out. “She said Tommy was in the room with us. She kept saying his last words to me, over and over and over. I can’t stay here, Emma. This isn’t what I came here for. It’s not what I wanted. It’s fucked up. It’s too fucked up.”
I catch Al as she falls into me, and hold her quivering shoulders as she sobs into the crook of my neck. The door to the hut next to mine opens and Isis steps, blinking, into the sunshine. She catches my eye and smiles. I don’t smile back.
Chapter 13
Present Day
I’m still staring at the note. It’s not Will’s handwriting. The letter “a” is formed differently throughout the note, with a loop at the top, more like the “a” on a keyboard rather than an enclosed “o” with a tail.
I thump the van’s steering wheel with the flat of my hand in frustration.
Of course
it’s not Will’s handwriting. What possible motive would he have for trying to scare me like that? Everyone who knows him – including his head teacher and the board of governors – thinks he’s a good man. He’s either fooled us all and he’s a high-functioning sociopath, or he’s as trustworthy and caring as he appears.
I was being ridiculous even considering he was responsible for the letter. Ridiculous and paranoid. I was lying to myself when I said that your past doesn’t shape your future. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. Your memories are the one thing you can’t run from, the one thing you can’t change.
I slide my mobile out of my pocket and tap the keyboard with my thumb. I need to apologise to Will for running off when he put Chloe to bed last night. I overreacted when I saw he’d been reading Al’s article about Ekanta Yatra on his iPad. Whatever his reasons for reading it, surely he can’t have had any kind of malicious intent. We need to talk.
I
need to talk. I compose a careful text.
Sorry about last night, Will. The alarm went off at work and I was worried someone had broken in to take their dog.
I delete the last sentence. I have to
Similar Books
