Infinity

‘Yes, the baby will like “Twinkle, Twinkle”.’

  ‘No,’ she says, cross. ‘Baby twinkle.’

  I don’t know what she means.

  She nods firmly, like she’s pleased she’s told me, then she goes back underneath the bed with her crayons.

  ‘Any problems?’ It’s Saul’s voice again.

  The doctor shakes her head. ‘Everything seems fine. Doctor Newsome, do we know what the estimated delivery date is? I can’t find it on the records.’

  Newsome’s voice cuts in. ‘That’s not important. That’ll be all – thank you. I’m coming back in.’

  The doctor looks up sharply, then at me. She stays by my bedside as Newsome comes back in, but he ushers her out briskly. I struggle up, ready to run if I’m shut in here again.

  Newsome’s talking, quickly, but I can’t make any sense of his words. My brain stopped working after his first couple of sentences: ‘There’s no need to be alarmed but the ultrasound is showing that we need to deliver the baby early. I’ll be doing a Caesarian tomorrow …’

  I watch his mouth open and shut, his lips fold and unfold. At one point he leans forward and puts his hand on top of mine, a gesture of reassurance. I’m too stunned even to push it away.

  Eventually, he stops talking.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I say, faintly. ‘The other doctor said that everything’s okay.’

  ‘She meant that the foetus – baby – is alive now but there are other factors here. The way the baby’s presenting, the location of the placenta. A Caesarian is the safest option.’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  ‘It’s for the best.’

  The decision’s been made for me.

  I look down at his hand on mine, sitting there, like a fleshy toad. And it’s as if I’m seeing it for the first time. What is it with people around here? Why do they think it’s okay to touch me?

  I pull my hand away roughly.

  ‘I don’t want an operation,’ I say.

  He gets to his feet. ‘It’s for the best,’ he repeats.

  ‘I don’t want this,’ I say again, trying to make my voice strong.

  He pauses by the door, and through the gap I see someone lurking outside in the corridor. Saul, of course.

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ Newsome says. Behind him, Saul’s eyes are glittering and dark. He rubs his hands together, then claps Newsome on the back.

  The door closes.

  Chapter 32: Adam

  ‘I’ve come to pass on my congratulations.’

  Saul’s back. He’s edgy, jittery, but he’s also smiling, like the cat that got the cream.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘You’re about to become a father. For real this time.’

  Sarah. She’s having the baby. I ignore his dig about Mia, and jump up.

  ‘I gotta be there, Saul. I promised I’d be there.’

  ‘Calm down, it’s not until tomorrow.’

  ‘What? How do you know?’

  He’s still grinning. He’s loving this, telling me stuff I should have been the first to know.

  ‘Because that’s when she’s having the operation.’

  ‘What operation? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong. She’s having a Caesarian. Nice and clean and safe.’

  A Caesarian? That’s when they open you up and take the baby out of your stomach, ain’t it? They do that when things go wrong.

  ‘Something’s the matter and you’re not telling me.’

  ‘There’s nothing the matter, Adam. She’s had her scan and everything’s looking good. That’s the beauty of a Caesarian, you can have it exactly when it suits.’

  When it suits.

  When it suits who?

  ‘Who’s decided this? Is it the doctors? Or Sarah? Or …?’

  He don’t answer me.

  ‘I’ve got to see her. I’ve got to. I’ll do anything, Saul. Anything.’

  He’s leaning on the wall, his arms crossed. He’s pretty relaxed considering I thumped him last time I saw him.

  ‘What would you do, Adam? Would you tell me any number I wanted to know? Would you promise to help me find a good one?’ He pauses. ‘Would you give me your number?’

  ‘You’re asking me things I can’t say yes to.’

  I try to walk away from him, but it ain’t easy in a room this size.

  ‘You could …’

  He’s laughing. He’s enjoying watching me squirm.

  ‘What’s Mia’s number?’ he says.

  ‘I’m not saying.’

  ‘What’s Sarah’s?’

  I shake my head. I’m trying really, really hard to work out what I should do now. I need to get back to Sarah. But how?

  ‘Saul, please let me be there,’ I say slowly, trying to choose my words carefully. ‘She needs me.’

  ‘Perhaps you should have thought about that before you attacked me.’

  He’s right. I should, but now I’m thinking I should've finished the job. Maybe I’ll do it now. Or maybe there’s a chance I can turn things round.

  ‘I’m sorry, Saul. I shouldn’t have gone for you.’

  ‘No,’ he says, ‘you shouldn’t.’

  ‘I was wound up, ’cause of what had just happened to Mia and Sarah.’

  ‘That was … unfortunate. Newsome over-reached himself. He won’t do that again. I’ve reminded him who’s in charge.’

  ‘So you make the decisions round here.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And it’s you who’s decided that my baby gets born tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  He’s back to looking smug again. I want to wipe that smarmy look off his face. I can’t suck up to him any more.

  ‘Stay away from them. From Sarah and Mia and the baby.’

  ‘Empty threats, Adam. Empty threats. I’m the boss. I’ll do what I like …’

  I launch myself at him, but he’s ready. He blocks me and uses my own momentum to throw me onto the floor. I feel stupid, a boy fighting a man.

  He’s over by the door while I’m still scrambling to get up. It’s opened from outside and he’s through and out, with one parting shot.

  ‘Look at you,’ he sneers. ‘Are you really ready to be a father, Adam? I’d feel sorry for the child – if it survived. It’s better for everyone this way. A sacrifice for the greater good. Don’t worry, I’ll do it quickly. It’ll all be over, almost before it began.’

  The door slams and I slam into it, hammering my fists on the rusty metal.

  ‘You bastard, Saul! You leave my family alone!’

  Chapter 33: Sarah

  There’s extra food in our room, the covers on the bed have been replaced by a duvet, and there are toys for Mia – it’s the box from the interview room.

  ‘What’s this?’ I ask Adrian.

  ‘Saul’s orders,’ he says.

  Saul. It all comes back to Saul.

  ‘Why’s he doing this? He thought I was something he’d found on the bottom of his shoe before. What’s changed?’ Adrian doesn’t answer. ‘Nothing’s changed for me,’ I say slowly, hoping he’ll pick up on my meaning.

  ‘I’m trying to get everything you’ve asked for,’ he says – and then I know we’re talking the same language.

  We go straight to the bathroom, as Mia sits on the floor, working her way through the box of toys, looking for the dolly.

  The shower thunders into action.

  ‘When?’ I whisper.

  ‘I’m relying on other people. But could be soon. Could be very soon.’

  He puts a hand on my shoulder – the contact feels welcome this time.

  ‘Try and rest,’ he says. ‘Leave it all to me.’

  I try not to mind when the door closes this time, taking comfort in knowing that Adrian’s on the case.

  I get onto the bed and prop myself up on my side, with a pillow cushioning my bump. My stomach’s not exactly painful, just really uncomfortable. I watch Mia with her toys. She’s found the dolly aga
in and she’s busy talking to it, lying it down and standing it up again.

  ‘Baby, twinkle,’ she says. ‘Sleep, baby. Ssshhh!’

  The baby moves inside me. I hold my hand to the place where a knee or an elbow is pressing close to the surface.

  I close my eyes.

  The baby settles down.

  He’s panting like a dog. The bead of saliva swells and bursts, trickling down the side of his chin. He doesn’t wipe it off. Instead, he draws a knife. The handle is some sort of bone or horn, the blade is curved. It’s a hunting knife.

  I don’t understand what I’ve done, why he’s like this.

  ‘I’ve done it before,’ he says.

  I believe him, with every cell in my body.

  If only I could run. If only there was someone else here. But there isn’t. It’s me and him. Me and him and his knife.

  ‘Please, please don’t.’

  I’m begging him now.

  Begging for my life.

  He’s not listening. He’s staring with the light of madness in his eyes.

  Chapter 34: Adam

  The walls are solid, the floor is concrete, the ventilation hole in the ceiling is the width of my arm and there’s a grille bolted into it. The only chance of escape is when people come in and out. And the only people doing that are the ones bringing my food and collecting my tray. Saul hasn’t shown his face since he came to taunt me. I haven’t seen Sarah’s squaddie, either.

  I study the soldiers, trying to take in exactly what they do when they venture into my cell. There’s always one with a gun outside who unlocks the door, then the one with the food appears, with a hand each side of the tray. He checks where I am in the room before he comes in, then he sets the tray on my sleeping platform and walks out backwards so he’s facing me the whole time. The door stays open so the whole business can be observed by the soldier outside with the key, who shuts the door and locks it again.

  There’s a moment’s hesitation when they first open up. That’d be the time to strike. The guy with the tray’s got his hands full, so I reckon I could take him fairly easily. The guy with the key won’t shoot me if his mate’s between him and me, but he’ll be ready for me … unless I use the tray as a weapon. I could flip it into one guy’s face and barge him backwards into the other one.

  It all depends on speed and surprise.

  I’d have one shot at it and one shot only.

  I dunno what time it is. I can’t tell by the food ’cause it’s always the same. I reckon I’ll just have to go for it the next time they come in.

  I wanna be ready. I perch on the edge of the bed like a coiled spring, but you can’t stay in that position for long. I try pacing about, but I’m using up precious energy. I make myself sit down again, try and focus on Sarah, but that’s just mental torture. Once I start thinking about what might be happening my mind runs away with me. So I shift my focus to Saul. And when I picture him, with that smug smile, I feel the adrenalin pulsing through my veins. He’s the one who’s going to get me through this. My need to stop him. My need to protect the people I care about.

  I’ve lost too many people to lose Sarah too. I love her, and I know she loves me. If that’s taken away, I’d have nothing. It’s almost impossible to hold onto people once they’re gone. I’ve learnt that the hard way.

  I close my eyes and try to remember Mum. She’s slipping and sliding away from me. I can’t get hold of her. And when I finally do, the picture that comes to me isn’t the one I want.

  She’s propped up in bed, a shadow of who she used to be. Her face has changed shape, her eyes are sunk in her head. She beckons me nearer. I’m scared of how different she is. I clamber carefully onto the bed. I don’t want to hurt her with a clumsy elbow or knee. She puts her bony arm round me and rests her head on top of mine. Her breath smells, like she’s breathing out all the chemicals they’ve been pumping into her. I’m tense and twitchy.

  ‘What is it, Adam? What’s wrong? You’re a bundle of nerves.’

  What’s wrong? My world’s falling apart. You’re ill, Mum. You’re dying, but no one will say it.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Relax. Think of something lovely. Where would you like to be right now? Where shall we go, the two of us?’

  For a second I can’t think. Truth is, I don’t want to be anywhere with her like this. I’d rather go back in time – to when she was just a mum like anyone else’s, before she got sick. Except she wasn’t ever like anyone’s else’s mum: she was always funnier and crazier and better.

  ‘Let’s go to the beach, Mum.’

  Weston beach is only a few hundred metres down the road from our flat. It might as well be the other side of the world – Mum’s not able to get out of bed at the moment, let alone stroll along to the prom.

  ‘Is it sunny, Adam?’

  ‘Yeah, but not too hot.’

  ‘Fancy an ice cream?’

  ‘In a bit, let’s go on the beach first. The tide’s in.’

  ‘Only about half a mile to bloody walk then …’

  ‘We’re not walking, Mum, we’re running.’

  ‘Right, I’ll beat you there …’

  ‘No way! I’m already miles ahead.’

  ‘Wait for me, then. Hold my hand…’

  ‘No, you’ve got to catch me …’

  We run across the flat sand towards a line of gleaming silver breaking almost silently onto the shore. I slow down on purpose until she grabs my shoulder – ‘Caught you!’ – and then we run hand in hand, on and on and on into the sea …

  I open my eyes. I’m in a bare cell, alone.

  Why did she go? Why did she leave me? I got nothing left of her.

  I close my eyes again and I hear her voice and mine mixed up – and we’re saying the same words, the ones I read in the letter she wrote to me when she knew she was dying: If you start to forget what I looked like, or sounded like, or anything, don’t worry. Just remember the love. That’s what matters.

  Remember the love. That’s what matters.

  I’ve still got her love. No one and nothing could take that away from me. Not even death.

  And I’ve got people who I love now and who love me.

  That’s what Saul doesn’t understand. He just doesn’t get it. However many lifetimes he’s lived through, he hasn’t learnt what really matters.

  Maybe that makes him more dangerous.

  Maybe it makes him vulnerable.

  I don’t know, but I know that I’ve got it. I’ve got love in my life and that’s something worth fighting for.

  It’s worth dying for.

  Chapter 35: Sarah

  The blade is dull – cold, grey metal. He holds the tip against my skin. But I can’t say anything. There’s a gag in my mouth, and it’s choking me. I’m looking at his eyes, pleading with mine. Only his eyes are strangely blank. He’s not seeing my terror, not reacting to my fear. It doesn’t mean a thing to him.

  Don’t cut me.

  Don’t kill me.

  ‘I’ve done it before …’ he says, and I believe him.

  God help me.

  And then there’s a bang. The noise thuds in my ears.

  I open my eyes in time to hear the next explosion. The sound booms down the corridor. The first thing I think of is the Chaos. It’s happening again. I look round for Mia. She’s awake. An alarm starts ringing.

  ‘Mummy?’ she says.

  ‘I don’t know what it is,’ I say. I’m braced for another shock, for the room to turn upside-down. There’s a racket outside in the corridor, but it’s people, clattering past our room, and the alarm shrilling on and on. Then the people are gone.

  The explosions start again, more of them this time. They come in groups, two or three then a pause, then another two or three. The corridor’s full again: thudding feet, shouts, people brushing against the walls.

  There’s so much noise I don’t hear the key in the lock, but suddenly Adrian’s in the room. His uniform isn’t buttoned up properly and h
is hair is sticking up.

  ‘Now, Sarah,’ he says. ‘It’s got to be now. I’ll carry Mia. Wrap her up and bring anything warm you can find.’

  ‘What’s happening? What’s all the noise?’

  ‘I can’t explain now. We’ve just got to go.’

  I wrap Mia’s stripy blanket around her.

  ‘Where going?’ she murmurs.

  ‘To see Daddy,’ I whisper.

  Adrian scoops her up and I dig my old coat out from under the bed. He hesitates in the doorway. Soldiers are hurtling past in a never-ending stream of khaki.

  The guard outside our room is still there, though.

  ‘I’ve got orders to evacuate these two further away from the entrance,’ Adrian says to him. ‘Can you lead the way? We’ll head for the medical wing.’

  The guard doesn’t question him. ‘Prisoner coming through,’ he barks, and sets off against the flow, expecting others to get out of his way. Adrian and I follow in his slipstream.

  I’m having trouble keeping up. The further I drop behind the more I’m getting bumped and barged by people coming the other way. I can see Mia’s face looking for me over Adrian’s shoulder, then she disappears behind a sea of faces.

  ‘Adrian!’ I call out.

  He checks behind him and stops.

  ‘Wait!’ he shouts at our escort, who also stops.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I keep getting a stitch. I can’t go very fast.’

  ‘It’s okay. Walk in front of me. We’ll go at your pace.’

  We’re nearly at the medical wing when there’s another volley of explosions. This time the floor shakes and everyone stops running for a second or two. Then a voice booms along the corridor: ‘Code 5. Code 5. Entrance 1 is a code 5.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ I ask Adrian.

  ‘It means this place is in trouble.’

  Our guard is pushing back past us.

  ‘You all right from here?’ he says. ‘It’s a code 5.’

  ‘Yes, sure,’ Adrian says. ‘We’re fine.’

  The soldier heads off at the double. We watch him go and then Adrian says, ‘You’d better put that coat on now, get sorted out.’

  ‘What’s happening, Adrian? I don’t want to go to the medical wing.’