And she meant it.
Chapter Eight
The Accident
Lydia’s mum wheeled the trolley back to the car, followed by Danny and last of all Lydia. They each picked up a carrier bag and started loading up the boot of the car.
‘Mum, I want to walk home,’ said Lydia when they’d almost finished.
‘Why?’
‘You’re always telling me to get more fresh air and exercise,’ Lydia snapped. ‘Well, that’s what I want to do.’
Mum frowned. ‘Fine. You go for your walk – and maybe by the time you get home you’ll have walked the devil out of your backside!’
Danny laughed as he always did whenever Mum used that expression. Mum’s lips twitched reluctantly.
‘As my mother used to say!’ she added drily.
It was strange how Mum always quoted Lydia’s gran when she was annoyed! The ghost of a smile that flitted across Lydia’s face was gone as quickly as it arrived.
‘Can I go?’ Lydia asked, forcing herself not to snap or snarl or scowl.
‘Go on, then,’ Mum said. ‘Get walking! Just arrive back home in a better mood!’
With a brief nod of gratitude, Lydia headed across the car-park. To get to the car-park exit wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. It was uphill all the way.
‘Lydia, don’t cut across the car-park. Go through the supermarket – it’s safer,’ Mum called after her.
Lydia shook her head. ‘I’ll be OK,’ she called back. No way did she want to see Anne and Frankie again.
‘Mind the cars,’ Mum warned.
Lydia nodded and carried on walking.
‘I must be crazy!’ she muttered to herself.
It would be a long walk home, especially in the freezing cold, but at least it would give her a chance to be alone and think. The car-park was busy with cars coming to and from the supermarket but, although Lydia was careful to watch out for approaching cars, she was oblivious to everything else. She had too many other things on her mind.
Think, Lydia – think! she told herself sternly. How had Anne done it? How had Anne set her up?
How would I plant something in someone else’s locker? Lydia wondered.
Spy on them while they opened their locker to get the combination? No, that wouldn’t work. Anne would need eyes like a hawk to be able to work out Lydia’s locker combination from any distance. And if Anne had been close enough to see what it was, then Lydia was certain she would’ve seen her. Unless Anne had used binoculars . . . Lydia stopped walking and frowned. Binoculars! Was that it? Lydia shook her head and carried on walking. Surely someone would’ve spotted Anne bringing binoculars to school? Besides it was an awful lot of effort to go to just to get someone in trouble. But why not? Maybe Anne reckoned that getting Lydia in trouble and getting Frankie back as her best friend at the same time would be worth the risk.
Lydia’s left foot slipped on a patch of ice. She stepped gingerly across it and carried on walking. The sooner she was out of the car-park, and away from Anne and Frankie and everyone else, the better.
That’s all I need – to slip and trip and skate along on my bum all the way back down to Sainsbury’s, Lydia thought sourly. She smiled slowly. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea! If she broke an arm or a leg then she’d be off school for a while – as long as she didn’t break her neck first! On second thoughts, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all.
‘Lydia, hang on. Didn’t you hear me calling you?’
Lydia turned. Frankie came puffing uphill towards her. Lydia glared at her but said nothing. So much for wanting to be alone to walk home and think. She’d only made it as far as the car-park exit! When Frankie reached Lydia, she looked around nervously, then tentatively smiled. Lydia’s face remained a frozen mask. Frankie’s attempt at a smile faded to nothing.
‘I want to talk to you.’
‘Why?’ asked Lydia. Her voice was icier than the weather. ‘So you can rub it in about how Anne set me up?’ And I bet you had more than a little to do with it . . . Lydia’s eyes narrowed at the thought.
‘You know Anne did it?’ Frankie asked, astonished.
‘I’m not stupid, you know,’ Lydia shouted at her. ‘I didn’t put that stinking cup in my locker. It doesn’t take a genius to guess who did.’
‘Listen, Lydia. I’m on your side. I want to help you.’
‘Yeah, right!’ Lydia scoffed.
‘I do,’ Frankie insisted.
‘That’s why you told Anne where to go just now in the supermarket – right? That’s why you’ve stood up for me over the past week when everyone’s been calling me a . . . calling me names,’ said Lydia bitterly.
‘I couldn’t say anything . . .’
‘Of course you couldn’t,’ Lydia scorned.
‘If you’ll just listen to me . . .’ Frankie put her hand on Lydia’s arm.
Lydia slapped it away, pulling back from Frankie at the same time. Frankie’s feet slipped on the patch of ice beneath her. Her arms shot out and spun around like a windmill. Then the whole world slowed down into the slowest motion. As Lydia watched horrified, Frankie started falling backwards . . .
Lydia took a step towards her but it was as if she was wading through thick treacle, as if time itself was running so slowly that it was almost at a standstill – except that Lydia could see and understand everything that was happening. Her brain was running at normal speed but her body wasn’t. Frankie took a desperate step backwards into the road to steady herself, her arms still flailing. Lydia put out her hand to grab hold of Frankie’s coat but her fingers missed it by millimetres. And Frankie carried on falling. Lydia moved forward again to grab for Frankie – but she was too late. The driver of the oncoming car turning into the car-park tried to swerve out of the way, but he couldn’t do it in time. The front of his car smacked into Frankie. There was a sickening thud and Frankie spun around like a top before sinking to the ground.
Then time speeded up and everything happened at once.
The screech of brakes, footsteps running, someone screaming, more people shouting – the sounds came from all around. And Lydia stood and stared at Frankie who lay in a crumpled heap in the road.
Do something! DO SOMETHING! The voice in Lydia’s head screamed over and over.
‘I couldn’t help it . . . She came out of nowhere.’ The driver of the car stumbled out of his car. He was a tank of a man, easily over two metres high and built like an American footballer. But he stood over Frankie, rocking back and forth, his eyes huge and unblinking. ‘She came out of nowhere.’ His voice trembled as he spoke. ‘It wasn’t my fault. She came out of nowhere . . .’
‘No! Don’t move her. It’s dangerous to do that,’ said a middle-aged woman who came running up. ‘Someone phone for an ambulance.’
‘What happened?’
‘Get the police . . .’
‘Is she badly hurt . . . ?’
The questions, the noise, the people in the car-park – they all faded out to be replaced by the roar of Lydia’s blood rushing in her ears.
‘You pushed her. I saw you. You pushed her!’
At the sound of Anne’s voice, Lydia spun around. With slow dawning shock she realized that Anne was pointing to her.
‘Lydia pushed her. I saw it. She and Frankie were arguing. I ran over here to help and Lydia’s hand went out. She pushed her!’ screamed Anne.
Lydia gasped as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She couldn’t have said a word if her very life had depended on it. Her tongue was frozen in her mouth. In fact her whole body had gone numb.
‘She pushed her. I saw it!’ Anne was still pointing at her, hatred blazing on her face.
‘I . . . didn’t . . .’ Lydia’s voice was an almost non-existent whisper. ‘I was trying to grab her, to stop her from falling.’
She looked around. Those people who weren’t attending to Frankie were watching her, without saying a word. Lydia closed her eyes. She was back in the playground surrounded by the othe
rs in her year who watched her and called her names. She opened her eyes again. Grown-ups were all around her, surrounding her and silently watching.
‘Lydia, what’s going on?’ Lydia’s mum came running up. Then she saw Frankie lying in the road, still as a grave.
‘Oh my God . . .’ Lydia’s mum breathed.
‘I didn’t do it, Mum,’ Lydia exclaimed desperately. ‘It was an accident. She . . .’
Before Lydia could say another word, sirens sounded in the distance, getting closer and closer.
‘Mum . . .’
‘Shush.’ Mum came and stood beside her, as did Danny.
‘She came out of nowhere . . .’ The driver of the car was still staring at Frankie, who hadn’t moved a millimetre since she’d been hit.
The ambulance arrived within moments.
‘Could you all stand back please,’ said a paramedic, trying to push his way through the crowd.
Everyone moved out of his way. Once through, the paramedic immediately crouched down beside Frankie. He and the woman who’d been driving the ambulance listened as Anne’s mother told them what had happened – even though she’d only just arrived herself.
‘Her name is Frances Weldon. She goes to school with my daughter. That man over there knocked her over but it was an accident.’
‘I . . . I . . .’ The driver’s skin was like tracing paper now.
‘I’ll look after him,’ the ambulance woman told her colleague. She went over to the driver and linked his arm with her own.
‘Come on, sir. Let’s get you to the hospital,’ she said softly, leading the way to the ambulance.
‘Mum, what’s wrong with him?’ Danny whispered.
‘He’s in shock,’ Mum replied grimly.
Lydia’s heart was lodged somewhere in her throat, slowly choking her as the paramedic carefully examined Frankie. A pain in her chest grew sharper and more intense until, with a start, she realized that she had been holding her breath. She expelled the air in her lungs a tiny bit at a time.
‘Is Frankie OK?’ Anne’s mum asked the paramedic.
‘I don’t know. We’ll know more once we’ve got her to hospital,’ the paramedic replied. ‘Could you follow us, so we can get some details and contact her parents?’
His colleague came back and helped him to carry Frankie’s prone body into the ambulance on a stretcher.
Lydia didn’t take her eyes off Frankie. Even when the ambulance doors were shut behind her, Lydia still couldn’t look away.
‘I saw what you did – and you’re not going to get away with it.’ Anne’s voice rang out loud and clear like a bell.
Lydia turned her head. Anne stood in front of her mother, each of them a mirror of the other.
‘I feel sorry for you, Anne Turner. Have you really got nothing better to do than pick on my daughter?’ Lydia’s mum fumed.
‘Come on, Anne. We need to get to the hospital.’ Anne’s mum took her daughter firmly by the hand and led her quickly away. The crowd around them began to disperse.
Lydia, her mum and Danny all stood stock still, watching everyone else walk away from them.
‘Lydia, what happened?’ Lydia’s mum was still watching the crowd meander back to their cars and the supermarket.
‘Nothing,’ Lydia mumbled.
‘But that’s not true, is it?’ said Lydia’s mum, looking at her for the first time. ‘If it was, Frankie wouldn’t be on her way to the hospital now.’
‘I didn’t do that,’ Lydia said, aghast.
‘I never said you did. I never even thought that. But I’d like to know what happened.’
‘I . . . Frankie wanted . . . she wanted to talk to me, but . . . I didn’t want to talk to her. She . . . she slipped on some ice and fell in front of the car,’ Lydia said.
‘Ice?’
‘There’s ice here, Mum.’ Danny tentatively slid his trainer along a patch of ice on the ground.
‘So why is Anne accusing you of pushing her?’ asked Lydia’s mum, looking from Danny’s foot to Lydia.
‘Because she’s a real skunk,’ Lydia replied bitterly.
‘That’s enough, Lydia,’ her mum said sternly. ‘Tell me why Anne is saying that you deliberately hurt Frankie.’
‘I didn’t push Frankie. I was reaching out my hand to try and stop her from falling,’ Lydia said miserably. ‘Frankie knows I didn’t push her.’
‘Frankie’s unconscious,’ Lydia’s mum pointed out.
And Lydia had no answer to that.
‘Mum, can we go home now?’ Danny asked.
Mum sighed. ‘Yes, I think we’d better.’
‘Can’t we go to the hospital?’ asked Lydia.
‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ said Lydia’s mum. ‘I’ll phone the hospital later from home to find out how Frankie’s doing.’
‘But . . .’
‘No buts, Lydia. I think we’ve all had more than enough for one day. It’s going to be a nightmare on wheels as it is, trying to get out of this car-park with one of the exits blocked.’ Mum looked down at Lydia. ‘Frankie will be all right. I’m sure she will,’ she added softly.
Lydia didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
Without another word, Lydia’s mum led the way back to the car. Lydia didn’t see the car-park, nor the people looking and pointing at her. All she could see was Frankie falling backwards and being hit by the car and spinning around and around and around. She closed her eyes, but it didn’t help. The image was even clearer then.
‘I hate Tarwich. I wish we’d never come here. I wish we’d never even heard of it,’ Danny said quietly once they were in the car.
Mum turned to look at him. ‘I’m beginning to feel the same way,’ she said.
Lydia leaned her head against the window. That was it then . . . She’d felt that somehow, if everything else continued as normal, then maybe some of it would rub off on her. Her life would get back to normal, too. But now for the first time she realized that it wasn’t just her life that was being messed up. She was ruining the lives of her whole family. And in that moment the despair Lydia felt tightened into a knot around the last smidgen of hope left inside her. A knot so tight that any hope left within her was strangled. It didn’t matter what happened now. Things would never get back to normal. Ever.
Chapter Nine
The Getaway
‘Mrs Henson?’
‘Yes?’
Lydia and Danny poked their heads around the living-room door. They’d arrived home about three hours ago and barely ten sentences had passed between them since. Lydia couldn’t get Frankie out of her mind. Each time she thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did.
‘My name is Carl Williamson. I’m from the Tarwich Mercury.’ A short but stout man with slicked-back black hair, pointy teeth like a shark and a smile like a cobra grinned from the front step.
Lydia came out into the hall as her mum placed herself firmly in the doorway between the reporter and her family.
‘Can I help you?’ Lydia’s mum asked coldly.
‘I understand your daughter can tell me about the accident her classmate Frances Weldon had. The accident which led to Frances being rushed to hospital.’ Carl Williamson was still smiling – an oily, malicious smile.
‘Is she all right? D’you know?’ Lydia asked from behind her mother.
‘Lydia, go back into the living room,’ her mum said urgently.
‘Lydia? Are you sorry your friend was knocked unconscious?’ Carl was already making notes in his spiral-bound notepad.
Lydia nodded. Of course she was sorry – what kind of question was that?
‘Then why did you push Frances in front of the car?’ asked the reporter.
Lydia gasped. She stared at him, unable to speak. Something warm and wet ran down her face and over her mouth. Salty tears trickled across her tongue.
‘That’s enough,’ Mum said furiously.
‘I . . .’ Lydia began.
‘You didn’t mean to hurt her,
did you?’ the reporter asked Lydia sympathetically.
Lydia shook her head. She hadn’t hurt Frankie. It had been an accident. The reporter quickly scribbled in his notepad. He frowned up at the sky as drops of rain began to fall on his pad, smudging the ink.
Someone else was on the path now. Lydia couldn’t see their face. The person – a woman – was too busy taking photo after photo. Snap! Flash! Snap! Flash!
‘Lydia, will you be visiting Frances in hospital . . . ? Have her family told you to stay away? Lydia . . . ?’
Question after question. They didn’t stop. Carl Williamson pushed himself forward. The only thing stopping him from pouncing was Lydia’s mum. She moved to block the doorway, trying to stop both the reporter and the photographer.
‘That’s enough!’ Lydia had never seen her mum so angry. ‘Move your foot!’
The reporter’s foot remained on the doormat, effectively stopping Mum from closing the door.
‘Right! I warned you.’
Click! Flash! Snap! Flash!
‘Oww!’ The reporter yelped and jumped back as the heel of Lydia’s mum’s shoe found his instep. She slammed the door shut so hard that the glass in the door rattled violently.
‘He’s lucky your dad wasn’t at home,’ said Mum after a lot of muttering under her breath.
‘Mum, will Lydia’s picture be in the papers?’ Danny’s voice was scared.
‘Of course not!’ Mum snapped. ‘As soon as Frankie comes round, she’ll tell everyone it was an accident and that will be that.’
‘What happens if she doesn’t come round?’ Lydia whispered.
Mum didn’t reply. Lydia ran to the window in the front room. She watched the reporter and the photographer – a slight woman with short cropped hair – walk slowly away from the house. The photographer took a few more photos of the house before shaking her head and saying something inaudible to the reporter. Lydia continued to watch them as they got into their car and drove away.
Lydia went back out into the hall. ‘Mum, I know you only tried half an hour ago but . . .’
‘I was just about to,’ Mum smiled. She went over to the phone and started dialling. ‘Hello? . . . Yes, I’m phoning about a girl called Frances Weldon. She was knocked down and taken to your hospital? . . . Yes, that’s right. I just wondered how she was doing?’ There was a long pause. Lydia hardly dared to breathe. ‘No, I’m not family,’ Mum admitted reluctantly. ‘But my daughter . . . Oh, I see. Well, could you just tell me if Frances has regained consciousness yet . . . ? Right . . . OK. Thank you. ’Bye.’