‘Dad! DAD!’ I yelled until my throat hurt, but the tide of voices around me carried my words away.
Dad was hurried down the scaffold steps and back into the prison, along with the governor, but that didn’t stop us. We could’ve torn down Hewmett Prison brick by brick. We would’ve – but we couldn’t get past the barriers. I turned my head whilst being pushed forward. Turned to where they were sitting. I couldn’t see her. Where was she? Watching all this and enjoying the free entertainment? The Crosses were all leaving in a hurry. We were penned in and had to stand up like cattle; they had seats. We were herded in through a side gate and ushered to our part of the courtyard. The Crosses got to drive in and sit down, like they were having a night out at the ballet or going to the cinema or something. Each one of us was scanned and searched. I bet not one single Cross was even stopped.
And then they wondered why we hated them so much.
People were beginning to get hurt. I saw a man in front of me fall, and whilst those around him tried to help him up, the ones behind still pushed forward. There were screams and shouts and shrieks and chaos. And I loved it. ’Cause it was just what I needed. A place to shout and kick out, where no-one could stop me because I was just one of many. At that precise moment I felt like I could rip the metal barriers out of the concrete beneath my feet with my bare hands. I was invincible because I was so filled with rage. It was a giddy feeling and I revelled in it. Someone grabbed my arm. I turned, ready to lash out. It was Mum.
‘Callum!’ she shouted. ‘Let’s get out of here. I want to see your dad.’
‘Mum . .?’
And just like that all my anger that was just about to break out subsided. I stood watching Mum, waiting for the pain inside to dampen down, waiting for the world around me to turn multi-coloured again instead of blood red.
‘Come on.’ Mum pulled me after her, in the opposite direction to the crowd. And with an overwhelming sense of regret and frustration, I let her.
seventy-seven. Sephy
‘DON’T YOU EVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN!’
‘Don’t talk to me like that,’ Mother frowned.
But I was too far gone by now. Dad had gone straight back to his office in one of his colleague’s cars, leaving me, Mother and Minerva to go home alone. And with each passing second, the fury in me had dug deeper and deeper. Mother had come home and gone straight to the kitchen. Minnie ran up to her room. I followed Mother.
‘How dare you take me to that . . . that . . . thing? How dare you?’
‘We had to go. It was our duty.’ Mother took a half-empty bottle of Chardonnay out of the fridge.
‘Our duty? To see a man get hanged?’
‘Yes.’ Mum poured out some wine into a tumbler. ‘Because like it or not we have to support your dad, whether or not we agree with what he’s doing.’
‘But that was . . . barbaric. Taking us to watch a man die. Dad’s sick. So are you.’
‘I didn’t like it any more than you did.’ Mother downed her half pint of wine without even gasping.
‘Liar. You couldn’t take your eyes off it. I saw you.’
‘I wasn’t watching,’ Mother said quietly, pouring herself another drink.
I’d had enough by then. I snatched the bottle out of her hand and threw it across the kitchen. It hit one of the cupboards and bounced off to spin around on the floor. But it didn’t break. What little wine there was left, trickled out in a silent puddle.
‘Go to your room,’ Mother stormed at me.
Finally, a reaction. And it left me cold. ‘You really don’t care, do you?’ I said, making no attempt to hide my disgust. ‘You would’ve cared more if they were hanging a wine bottle instead of a person.’
Mother slapped me hard – but I was ready for it this time. I turned back to face her almost immediately.
‘There’s wine spilling out over there. Go and lick it up then. You wouldn’t want to waste any, would you?’
Mother gasped, a sound she tried to smother at once, but she was too late. I heard it.
‘Waiting for me to leave before you get on your hands and knees?’ I sneered. ‘OK then. I’ll leave you to it.’
Mother grabbed my arm and swung me around to face her. ‘You don’t know every damn thing, Persephone,’ she hissed at me. ‘You think you’re the only one hurting here? Ryan McGregor was my friend. So was Meggie McGregor. D’you think I wanted to see him hang?’
‘Why did you go then?’ I shouted at her.
‘One day you’ll realize that you can’t always do what you want to do in this life. And when you realize that, maybe you’ll think of me,’ Mother told me.
‘I want to think of you as little as possible,’ I said bluntly. ‘You say they were your friends? Nothing would make me go to the hanging of one of my friends. Nothing. Not even Dad.’
‘I tried to help . . .’ Mother whispered.
‘How? By getting blind drunk before and afterwards?’
‘You stupid girl. Who d’you think paid for their lawyer and all their legal fees?’ Mother took hold of my shoulders and shook me. ‘I prayed and paid and did everything I could to make sure that Ryan wouldn’t hang. What more could I’ve done? You tell me?’
‘You paid for their lawyer?’
Mother turned away from me. ‘Yes, and that’s not to leave this room. And not for the reason you think either.’
‘That was just your guilty conscience,’ I told Mother. ‘You’ve never done anything for anyone other than yourself in your life. So go back to your bottle. You’ve earned it.’
And I ran out of the room, knowing that Mother was watching. I bolted up the stairs like the devil himself was chasing me.
Strange how much you can cry, don’t you think? Strange how many tears you can hold inside. I lay on my bed and cried until my whole body shook and my head pounded like a pneumatic drill, and even then I couldn’t stop. And I knew no-one would hear me cry either. Minnie’s room was next to mine but our rooms were practically soundproofed. So I didn’t need to bury my head under my pillow, or choke back my sobs. I just cried. For Callum, for his dad, for the day – and for myself, I admit it.
seventy-eight. Callum
Two hours and a lot of arguing from our solicitor later, we were finally allowed in to see Dad. Mr Stanhope, our solicitor, said he’d wait for us outside as we were shown into the visitors’ hall. Mum and I sat in silence, our eyes trained on the door. At last the door opened – and I almost wished it hadn’t. Another anonymous prison officer entered, followed by Dad. And he looked terrible, half-deflated and pale as a ghost. On the scaffold, he’d been tall and straight and in a funny way I’d felt so proud of him. But now he looked . . . old. Stooped and shrunken into himself. Mum stood up. I did the same. Dad saw us, but he didn’t smile. Mum opened her arms. Dad walked into them and they hugged silently for a long, long time.
‘I hear I’m being blamed for the riot outside,’ said Dad, his voice almost a monotone.
He pulled away and sat down. All of us, except the prison officer, did the same. I glared at him. Was he going to just stand there, listening to our private conversation? Obviously he was.
‘How are you, Ryan?’ Mum couldn’t care less what was happening outside.
‘How d’you think?’ Dad said bitterness modulating his voice slightly.
‘At least you’re still alive. I’m grateful for that . . .’
‘I’m not. I was ready to die,’ said Dad sombrely.
‘Ryan . . .’
‘I mean it, Meggie. D’you really think I want to stay here, rotting away in a prison cell. They should’ve hanged me. It would’ve been kinder.’
‘Don’t say that!’ Mum cried.
‘Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?’
Mum glanced down, struggling for something to say. The click of the door had us turning around. Kelani Adams swept in, her arms out, her expression triumphant. We all stood up. Kelani hugged each of us in turn, even hugging me for good measure.
&nbs
p; ‘Well, we’ve won the first battle. On to the next one,’ Kelani nodded. ‘I’ve already launched an appeal and . . .’
‘With all due respect, Miss Adams, this is as far as you’ll get,’ Dad interrupted.
‘Oh no it’s not,’ Kelani denied. ‘I’m calling in every favour I’m owed – and then some. You’re innocent of these charges and I’m going to prove it.’
Mum grasped Kelani by the hand, her smile sincere. ‘I want to thank you for your help in all this, Miss Adams. If it wasn’t for you . . .’
‘Your thanks are a tad premature.’ Kelani returned Mum’s smile. ‘But that’s OK.’ She turned to Dad. ‘What we need to do now is . . .’
‘Kelani, it’s over,’ said Dad. ‘They didn’t kill me quickly. They just decided to draw it out instead. I’ll never see the outside of this prison and we both know it.’
The conviction in Dad’s voice silenced us all – but only momentarily.
‘You may know it, but I certainly don’t,’ said Kelani firmly.
But I don’t think Dad heard her.
‘Ryan, please don’t give up,’ Mum begged. ‘There’s still hope. We can appeal. There are lots of things we can do . . .’
‘I don’t want you to do anything. There has to be a way out of here and I’ll find it . . .’ said Dad.
‘Ryan . . .’ Mum was worried.
‘It’s OK, love. I’ve got it all figured out,’ said Dad.
I shook my head slowly as I watched Dad, before stopping abruptly when I realized what I was doing. I glanced up at the officer. He was still looking straight ahead but now his expression was troubled rather than neutral. He glanced down at Dad, then turned to Mum and shook his head.
‘I don’t wish to interfere,’ he began softly. ‘But please tell your husband there is no way to escape from this prison. He’s been talking about nothing else since his reprieve. Tell him the security gates are guarded at all times and the fence is electrified twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.’
Mum looked from the guard to Dad. ‘Ryan, you’re not going to do anything stupid, are you? Promise me . . .’
Dad smiled, a slow, frightening smile, and opened his mouth to answer but at that moment a buzzer sounded.
‘Ryan, please, please trust me to do my job,’ Kelani said to Dad. ‘I will get you out of here. You have to believe it.’
‘I’m afraid visiting time is over,’ the officer said.
Dad headed for the door.
‘Ryan . .?’ Mum called after him.
‘Meggie, don’t worry about me. I’m getting out of here,’ said Dad. ‘You just see if I don’t.’
And he carried on walking away from us, towards the exit. The prison officer nodded politely to my mother and Kelani. Kelani nodded back. But Mum didn’t even see him. She was watching my father leave. The prison officer followed Dad out of the room. Mum muttered something to herself, utterly desolate.
‘What did you say?’ I asked her as gently as I could.
Mum turned to me, tears in her eyes. ‘He didn’t even say goodbye.’
seventy-nine. Sephy
It took a while before I heard the strange tip-tapping at my window. And once I was conscious of it, I instinctively knew that it’d been going on for a while. Not bothering to wipe my face, I headed for my window and opened it. Tiny stones lay at my feet.
Callum . . .
Callum in our back garden. I leaned over my balcony and saw him at once.
‘What . .?’ I lowered my voice. ‘What’re you doing here?’
‘I need to see you.’
‘I’ll come down.’
‘No. I’ll come up.’
I looked around anxiously. ‘OK. But be quick.’
‘How do I get up there?’
‘Just a sec. Er . . . can you climb up the drainpipe and use the ivy for footholds?’
‘I’ll break my neck.’
‘Hang on, I’ll tie some sheets together then.’
‘No, don’t bother.’
Without another word, Callum clambered up the drainpipes and the ivy, reaching my balcony in about ten seconds flat. My heart leapt up into my throat as I watched him. If he fell now . . . The moment he reached my balcony, I hauled him over, terrified he’d plummet to his death.
‘Did you phone me? I didn’t hear your signal,’ I told Callum, confused.
‘I didn’t phone. I came straight here,’ Callum replied. ‘I hid in the rose garden until the coast was clear.’
We stood in the middle of my room. He looked at me and I looked at him and all the events of our lifetimes finally caught up with us. I wanted to say sorry for everything that’d happened to his dad, sorry for everything that was still happening, but even in my head the words sounded trite and totally inadequate. Better to say nothing. Safer. And I couldn’t forget the way he’d looked at me as the prison clock struck. I was the first to look away. I’d known Callum all my life and yet I felt as if we’d only just met.
‘Is there anything I can do?’
Or maybe I’d done enough. Me and my kind . . . I risked a glance at Callum. He didn’t answer. He just watched me.
‘How’s your mum . .?’ Stupid question. ‘Is she still staying with relatives or friends? Is she . .?’
‘She’s at my aunt’s house,’ Callum replied.
I looked around my room. Should I sit or stand? What should I say? What should I do? Inside, I was beginning to panic.
I ran to lock the door. The last thing either of us needed was to have my mother or sister enter the room. Sighing with relief at the click of the key in the lock, I turned, only to bump straight into Callum. Dazed, I looked up at him.
‘I . . . I thought you were going to get help,’ Callum told me.
I shook my head, shocked. Why would he think such a thing? ‘Listen, if I wanted to get help, you wouldn’t have made it to my bedroom window,’ I told him.
But he was hardly listening. He just kept staring at me, his expression freezing by degrees.
‘Callum . .?’
‘Your father must be so proud of himself,’ Callum’s eyes narrowed. ‘An innocent man is going to rot in prison and just like that his political reputation is restored.’
‘No . . .’ I whispered. ‘It wasn’t like that . . .’
But it was – and we both knew it.
‘Is this the way it’s going to be from now on? Whenever a politician is in trouble in the polls, if they can’t start a war, they’ll just search out the nearest nought to imprison or hang – or both?’
I didn’t take my eyes off Callum’s face. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him slowly clenching and unclenching his fists. I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I hardly dared to breathe. Callum was hurting so much, it was tearing him up inside. And he wanted to hurt someone.
‘And what about you, Sephy?’ he asked.
‘W-what about me?’ I whispered.
‘No more you and me, I take it,’ Callum said with contempt. ‘After all you wouldn’t want to ruin your future career prospects by being spotted with the son of the Dundale bomber.’
‘I know your dad didn’t do it.’
‘Oh yes? Well, so did the jury – for all the difference it made. D’you know how long they deliberated? One hour. One lousy, stinking hour.’ His head slumped in despair.
‘Callum, I’m so sorry . . .’ I touched his cheek.
His head shot up. He glared at me with white-hot, burning hatred. My hand fell quickly to my side.
‘I don’t want your ruddy pity,’ he shouted.
‘Shush . . .’ I pleaded, glancing at my bedroom door.
‘Why should I?’ Callum challenged. ‘Don’t you want anyone to know you’ve got a blanker in your room?’
‘Callum, don’t . . .’ I didn’t even realize I was crying until a salt tear ran into the corner of my mouth.
‘I want to smash you and every other dagger who crosses my path. I hate you so much it scares me,’ he told me.
‘I . . . I k
now you do.’ I whispered. ‘You’ve hated me ever since you joined Heathcroft and I called you a blanker.’ I realized it as I said it. And in that moment I realized a lot of things, including why I’d started knocking back wine.
‘And you’ve hated me for turning my back on you at school and not being there when you needed me,’ said Callum.
I didn’t deny it.
‘So why’re we still together?’ Callum spoke softly to himself, almost forgetting that I was right in front of him. ‘Why do I still think of you as . .?’
‘As your best friend?’ I supplied. ‘Because you know that’s how I think of you. Because . . . because I love you. And you love me, I think . . .’
My words snapped Callum out of his reverie with a vengeance. A hard, mocking look flashed over his face. I waited for him to do something; laugh, lash out, deny it, leave – anything. But he didn’t.
‘Did you hear what I said?’ I tried again. ‘I love you.’
‘Love doesn’t exist. Friendship doesn’t exist – not between a nought and a Cross. There’s no such thing,’ Callum replied.
And he meant every word.
‘Then what’re you doing in my room?’ I asked, choking inside. ‘Why did you come?’
Callum shrugged. ‘I’m damned if I know.’
With a sigh I moved over to the bed and sat down. After a moment’s hesitation, Callum came and sat down beside me. I can’t remember either of us ever feeling more awkward. I struggled desperately to find something to say. Risking a glance in Callum’s direction, I saw at once from the look on his face that he was having exactly the same problem.
I had so many things I wanted to tell him. The words tumbled and jumbled around in my head, making me dizzy. But nothing would come out. I turned to Callum and slowly held my arms out towards him. He looked puzzled, then his expression cleared. He watched me intently. My gaze dropped. Another of my stupid ideas. I started to lower my arms. Taking hold of my hands, he shuffled along the bed towards me.