‘What are you talking about?’
‘Well, what about what you nearly said yesterday or whenever it was . . . about how you wished I’d been kidnapped instead of Madison.’
Oh, man. ‘I didn’t say that,’ I said, my face reddening.
‘Yeah, but it’s what you were going to say.’
‘No,’ I protested. ‘I was just upset. I didn’t mean it.’
‘No? Like you didn’t mean to take Madison away from me . . . or Mom or Dad or—?’
‘What?’ I said. ‘How on earth did I take anyone away from you?’
‘Madison and I were real close until you came back.’
‘No, you weren’t,’ I snapped. ‘You were bullying her, for goodness’ sake.’
Shelby shrugged. ‘That started afterwards, because of you. Anyway, with Mom and Dad . . . you were all they ever thought about. All my life it was Martha Lauren this, Martha Lauren that . . . their lives were dominated by whether some old lady in Tampa had seen you or if you’d turned up in some elementary school in Chicago . . . or—’
‘None of that was my fault.’ I folded my arms. ‘I didn’t ask to be kidnapped.’
Shelby sighed. I glanced at the door. Smoke was still seeping into the room, but at least the air in here was relatively breathable.
‘Don’t you see that you were always there – like this idealised person out in the world somewhere who I had to live up to . . . they never gave me a chance.’ Shelby’s mouth trembled. ‘And once you came back, it got worse. Our whole lives turned upside down. Look at the way Mom and Dad ran off to London to buy that apartment and the way every holiday was dominated by making sure you had time with both your families. Everyone thought it was all so hard on you having to deal with four parents, but all four of them tiptoed around you like you were a queen. And you acted like one too.’
I opened my mouth to make some cutting remark back about Shelby being pretty good at acting like a queen herself when, without warning, something someone had once said to me came into my head.
You have four parents who love you. For that maybe it is possible to belong in two places.
I bit my lip. I’d never really compared my situation to Shelby’s before. I thought of Duchovny. He was her father and he certainly didn’t love her.
‘It still wasn’t my fault that I got taken away when I was a little girl,’ I said.
‘Maybe that wasn’t,’ she said, ‘but afterwards, when you came back, you were so smart and so pretty and I just felt ugly whenever I was next to you.’
I stared at her. Was that really how she’d felt? ‘Me coming back didn’t change Sam and Annie’s feelings for you,’ I said.
‘Yes, it did.’ Shelby sniffed. ‘I used to be Mom’s favourite, like Madison was Dad’s. But once you came back you were her favourite.’
‘That’s not true,’ I said, though inside I wasn’t so sure. Annie had followed me around everywhere when I came to live with them. It drove me nuts, to be honest. With a jolt, I realised that I’d never once considered just how difficult seeing Annie grasping for my attention must have been for Shelby.
‘It is so true, Lauren.’ Shelby sighed. ‘Don’t you see? You go in search of a Mom and a Dad who never wanted to lose you and who are over the moon to have you back.’ She looked down at the floor and lowered her voice. ‘I find out my Mom had an affair and my Dad isn’t who I think he is and my dad . . . my birth dad . . . he doesn’t want to know me.’ She looked up at me and there was real pain in her eyes. ‘I heard him . . . Duchovny . . . talking to Cooper Trent. He said I was a mistake . . . an accident. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.’
That was true. And in that moment I saw Shelby in a way I’d never seen before. Her life dominated by my disappearance. Her life thrown into turmoil on my return. She had Annie, for sure, but Sam had died and now she’d discovered another father . . . one who wasn’t at all interested in knowing her.
I’d never had to deal with either of those things.
We looked at each other. I wanted to say something . . . something honest and kind.
‘Shelby—’
A huge explosion shook the building. The ground trembled under our feet. Shelby screamed. I clutched at the chair beside me.
‘What the hell was that?’ Shelby gasped.
I struggled onto the chair. ‘Come on, get up here,’ I ordered.
‘But—’ Shelby’s next words were lost as another explosion, even louder than the first, rocked the building to its core.
I held out my hand to her as the door blew in on us, off its hinges. And a huge ball of fire rushed furiously into the room.
31
Saving Shelby
There was no time to think. Instinctively I hauled myself up through the dormer window so my head and shoulders were outside, my legs tucked up underneath me and all my weight on my arms. I could feel the scorch of the fire on the soles of my feet.
The next few seconds seemed to last an eternity. I knew I couldn’t hold my own weight for much longer. I tried to push myself up, higher, so I was properly through the window.
It was no good, my arms were too weak. I slid back into the room, finding the chair below me with my toes. I looked down. What had happened to Shelby?
Fire was now raging inside the room. It was all around the sides, creeping up all four walls, eating at the furniture. Smoke rose above and between the flames. My heart drummed in my ears. In the dim distance a siren was sounding.
‘Shelby!’ Again my yell came out as a gasp.
‘Lauren?’ Shelby’s head peered out from behind a filing cabinet across the room. She was curled up on the floor. Her face was grimy and her cardigan, still clutched in her hand, was singed. ‘Is that a siren outside?’
‘Yes,’ I said, listening again to the fire engine. It was getting nearer. ‘Are you OK?’
Shelby shook her head. ‘I tried to roll out of the way,’ she gasped, ‘but my legs got burned.’
I looked down as she crawled into view. Her jeans were blackened from the knees down. I winced, then jumped down from my chair, onto the ground. The carpet itself was relatively free from fire, but the heat was overwhelming. Smoke filled my ears and nose and mouth, choking me.
I picked my way across the room and reached Shelby. She was trying to push herself up, but the effort was too much. She lay back, coughing uncontrollably.
I looked round. The carpet might be clear, but the fire was still fierce at the sides of the room. The dense smoke was worst of all. It filled my lungs, making it virtually impossible to breathe.
‘We have to get onto the roof,’ I gasped. ‘Then the fire engine will see where we are.’
‘I can’t move,’ Shelby said.
I glanced down at her blackened jeans again.
‘My legs hurt,’ Shelby whimpered.
‘Come on.’ I reached under her armpits and tried to haul her upright. The chain, still attached to the grate I’d yanked out of the wall, dangled limply from her wrist.
Flames licked at the walls around us.
I dragged Shelby back towards the window.
‘Aaagh,’ she moaned.
I peered up at the dark night sky above us. The fire siren sounded close.
‘The fire fighters are nearly here,’ I said. ‘If we both stand on this chair we can get our heads through the window.’
‘I can’t,’ Shelby whispered. ‘Can’t feel my legs.’
Coughing, I hauled her upright. She was a dead weight in my arms. My muscles ached with the effort, but I forced myself on.
I laid Shelby against the chair while I clambered up and put my head through the window. The air outside was no longer clear, though still blissful to breathe compared to the air in the room. Huge tongues of fire were licking up the side of the building.
Smoke billowed around me, blocking out my view of the sky, but I could hear the siren again and, a moment later, voices shouting. I tried to yell, but my throat was too sore and smoke-swollen. I
reached my arms through the window and waved. I could see nothing through the smoke, but maybe, just maybe, one of the fire fighters would see me.
After a moment, I took a deep breath and slipped back into the room below. It was like a picture of hell, with walls of flames – writhing and angry – wherever I looked.
Shelby was still slumped against the chair. She was coughing and sobbing, tears making a track down her grimy cheeks.
‘The fire fighters are here.’ I grabbed her arm and gave her a shake. My heart was racing, but I was so determined we were going to make it that I wouldn’t let myself feel afraid. ‘We’re going to be OK, Shelby.’
She shook her head and fell into my arms and we hugged.
It was the first time Shelby and I had ever held each other.
I disentangled myself. ‘Climb up to the window,’ I ordered.
Shelby raised one leg, but as soon as she rested it on the seat of the chair, she screamed with pain.
‘OK, OK,’ I said, coughing. My lungs felt raw, like someone had got inside me and sprayed me with acid. My breathing was shallow and rasping.
‘Go,’ Shelby whispered. ‘Go and get help.’
I bit my lip. I was certain that as soon as I stopped holding her, Shelby would collapse onto the floor again. On the other hand, I had to make sure the fire fighters knew we were in here.
I lowered her carefully onto the floor and hauled myself onto the chair again. The dizziness I’d felt before was back . . . the blackness at the edge of my vision . . . I raised my head through the open window and waved frantically.
‘Help!’ I gasped. ‘Please, help!’
There, in front of me, rising over the roof in a box attached to an extendable ladder, I saw the fireman. His face was covered by a helmet and he was dressed from head to toe in a brown uniform.
I waved again. He shouted something I couldn’t hear.
I slipped back down, into the room. The smoke was denser than ever, clutching at my throat.
Shelby was still slumped against the chair.
I grabbed her arm. ‘They’re here.’ My voice was just a whisper now. I leaned in close to her ear. ‘Hang on, Shelby, they’re right here.’
Shelby looked round at me. She blinked, then pulled me close so her mouth was right by my ear.
‘You have to get out of here now,’ she whispered.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘we’re both getting out.’
‘It’s got to be you,’ Shelby whispered again. ‘Mom can’t lose you again. And Madison needs you.’
‘It’s going to be both of us,’ I said. ‘I promise you.’
And then Shelby looked me in the eye. Her expression was a mix of frustration and defeat – and love. It was a look I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
‘I shouldn’t have said I hate you,’ she said. Her voice was so faint I could barely hear her. She coughed and closed her eyes. ‘I was mad at you for acting so tough . . . making me feel like a jerk . . . I’m sorry.’
Terror rose up inside me. ‘I’m sorry too. I wish—’
‘Don’t sweat it,’ Shelby whispered. She leaned right against me and whispered in my ear. ‘Just remember, no-one does it on their own. Not even you.’
I could hear the smile in her voice . . . and then she slumped into my arms. I staggered against the chair, almost knocking it over. The flames were so close now. The smoke filled my head.
‘LAUREN?’ The shout came from above.
I looked up. A fireman was reaching through the window towards me.
‘Give me your hand!’ he yelled.
I looked at Shelby. Take her first. I tried to haul her up to him, but there was no strength in my arms to lift her. The black was crowding in on me.
‘I can’t take you both at once!’ the fireman yelled. ‘Give me your hand. I’ll come straight back in for her once I’ve got you.’
I held out my arm. Smoke billowed up around me. Reality seemed to fade around me. Was this what dying felt like?
As I closed my eyes, I felt a strong hand grip my wrist.
With my last ounce of energy, I pushed myself up against the chair. As the fireman hauled me through the window, I let go of Shelby.
32
Eyes Tight Shut
I don’t remember much of the next few minutes. I know I was swung through the air and laid against something cold and metallic. The air was still full of smoke. I kept my eyes shut and took shallow breaths through my nose. The next thing I knew I was being loaded onto a trolley – I could hear its wheels squeaking. I was covered with a blanket, and a mask providing sweet fresh air was put over my face. I kept my eyes shut. Where was Shelby? Was she OK?
Voices suddenly surrounded me. Low, soft voices I didn’t recognise, talking about burns and IV drips and intubation, whatever that was. And then louder, hysterical voices. Annie and Jam and Madison.
‘Where is she?’ That was Jam.
Was he talking about me?
I kept my eyes closed. If I kept them shut then Shelby would be all right. Please.
The strange low voices were talking calmly.
‘They’re working on the sister now.’
Did they mean Shelby? I kept my eyes tight shut, praying she was OK.
‘Lauren?’ A small voice, breaking with a sob. A small hand curling round my fingers.
That had to be Madison. I didn’t want her to worry. I squeezed her hand tightly, though I still didn’t open my eyes.
‘She’s holding my hand.’ Madison’s voice rose. ‘Lauren?’
I had a sudden flashback to the hospital room where, two years ago, Annie and I had sat on either side of Madison’s bed, waiting for a sign that she was alive. After an eternity, Madison had squeezed my hand.
For some reason I wanted to point out the irony of this, but the mask over my face made it hard to speak. I lifted my hand, trying to take it off. It was like lifting a heavy metal bar.
‘Hey, my love, that’s giving you oxygen, leave it for now.’ A firm hand pressed the mask back in place.
But what about Shelby?
I couldn’t open my eyes until I knew if she was OK because opening them would jinx everything.
I felt the trolley I was on being slid up a ramp. The air around me grew warmer and there was the faint smell of disinfectant. I knew, though my eyes were still shut, that Madison had gone and that I was inside an ambulance.
No. I didn’t want to leave here until I knew if Shelby was OK.
Where was Annie? She would know. She would tell me.
I lifted my hand, again trying to push the mask off.
Sister. I tried to speak, but my throat was too swollen and my lips wouldn’t obey my command. The word came out as a hiss.
‘You’re going to be fine.’ The same calm, male voice who’d spoken before.
Not me. Shelby.
And then I heard the scream rising into the air. Annie’s scream. A terrible, raw wail that could only mean one thing.
I held my breath. I kept my eyes shut.
I wouldn’t believe it.
There was a shuffling movement beside me. The man – the paramedic – who kept putting the oxygen mask over me was speaking again, but from further away.
I strained to hear what he said. He was talking to another man. Their voices were low and respectful.
‘The sister didn’t make it.’
The words were as simple and clean as the air I was now breathing. But my mind wouldn’t accept them.
And then the paramedic came back and he laid his hand over mine and though he said nothing, the gentleness of his touch told me it was true.
A single hot tear trickled down my cheek. I kept my eyes shut. I might know the truth, but I wasn’t going to face it.
The doors of the ambulance slammed shut and the engine started. The siren sounded and I wondered vaguely what it was for, before realising it was for me.
I kept my eyes shut all through the journey and as the trolley I was lying on was bumped out of the ambu
lance and across uneven ground, into the hospital.
More people fussed over me.
‘Can you open your eyes, honey?’ It was a new voice. A woman. A nurse, I was guessing.
There was a sharp prick in the side of my arm. My heart raced for a second, wondering what I’d been injected with. And then my head swam into unconsciousness.
When I woke, the first thing I was aware of was the tube coming out of my mouth.
And then I remembered Shelby.
The sister didn’t make it.
‘Lauren?’ It was Mum’s voice.
My eyes sprang open. She and Dad were sitting beside my bed, their drawn faces almost the same colour as the white walls of the ward.
I took in the room – the empty bed opposite, clean and clinical – then looked back at Mum and Dad. I tried to speak, but the tube in my mouth went right down, into my throat, which felt strangely numb.
‘Lauren?’ Mum leaned forward, her face creased with anxiety. ‘How are you feeling? Can you blink to let me know you’re all right?’
I closed my eyes and opened them again.
‘One for “yes, I’m all right” . . . d’you think that’s what she meant, love?’ Mum turned anxiously to Dad.
‘Well, ask her,’ Dad said.
Mum turned back to me. ‘One for “yes, I’m OK apart from my throat and lungs”.’
I blinked slowly again.
And then I remembered Shelby again . . . that final look of hers – all hopelessness and love – pushing its way into my mind’s eye.
Just remember, no-one does it on their own. Not even you.
‘We’re hoping they’ll take the tube out later today or tomorrow,’ Mum said. ‘You suffered smoke inhalation, but the doctors say you’ll be fine.’ She moved still closer.
Dad reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.
‘You might have a sore throat for a while, but they’ve done a bronchoscopy and some blood tests,’ Mum went on, ‘and they don’t think there’s any permanent damage.’
‘Provided you don’t take up smoking,’ Dad said.