The Drowning (14 page)

I push this thought to the back of my mind and concentrate on savoring every step between the park and her house.

Without the rain, without Rob, I feel different. Like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. I can almost pretend that none of the other stuff is happening. None of it is real. Maybe I’m not in a nightmare, a horror story. Maybe I’m in the sort of story where something terrible happens and then the boy gets the girl. This boy gets this girl. Carl gets Neisha.

At the corner of her street, before we’re in sight of her house, she unlinks her hand from mine.

“Thanks,” she says, “for walking me home.”

“That’s okay.”

“Better get in.”

“Yeah.”

“You seem better. Calmer.”

“It’s you. Being with you. Talking, you know …” And it is. Her warmth has chased away my demons. If only I could keep her with me.

N
eisha. Her eyes. Her skin. Her smell. Her taste.

She’s at her house and I’m walking home, but she fills my senses, and the memories come flooding back. I fancied her the first time I saw her. I wanted her when she was with Rob. But that was nothing compared to how I feel now.

I kissed her.

And she didn’t shout at me, or slap me.

She held my hand.

Under my feet, there’s concrete and asphalt, gravel and grass, but really I’m walking on air. Life’s an unholy mess, but something good’s coming out of this. Something unbelievably, wonderfully good. I want to hold on to this feeling, but of course I can’t. A floodgate has opened in my mind — I’m being bombarded with memories, a tsunami of pictures and voices, tumbling over and over until one of them sticks. Me and her. Neisha and me.

And Rob.

I stop walking, lean against a wall, cover my face, and watch the movie in my head.

“Do you love her?”

He laughs.

“ ’Course not.”

“So let her go.”

“So you can have her? I’d rather kill her.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You’re the stupid one, stupid. Do you think she’d want you, once she’s seen your tiny little excuse for a dick?”

“Shut up. Just shut up.”

“She’ll put down her magnifying glass, piss herself laughing, and that will be that. The End.”

“Shut up. She’s not like that.”

“She’s exactly like that. They all are.”

“Not.”

“And you know, do you?”

He saw us, sitting in the park together, that’s why he’s in this rage. Well, I’m not taking it this time. I’m fighting back.

“She likes me. She kissed me. She —”

“What?”

“She kissed me and I kissed her back and she liked it.”

“You’re lying. And if I ever thought you was messing behind my back, I’d kill you — both of you.”

I
was
lying then, though I so wanted it to be true. And now I remember how he slammed his fist into the door and then into my face. He was so angry he couldn’t help himself. I did that; I wound him up, made him angry.

The pieces in the jigsaw are starting to settle into place. His beatings led her to confide in me. My lie about kissing her sent him into a fury …

So much has come back to me now. Have I remembered everything? Is this all there is to know?

I lied about it before, but this time it’s real.

I start walking again. I’m back on the main street now, and as I walk past the candy shop, hot air wafts out, bringing the soft scent of vanilla. It says “Neisha” to me, and I know it’s a sign. This is it, my future — warmth and sweetness. I’ve earned it. I saved her. But she’s still in danger. In my churning guts I know I’m going to have to save her all over again.

*  *  *

There are voices in the kitchen when I get home. I pop my head around the door and I’m met with a great whooping shriek. A woman who looks like an older, fatter version of Mum gets to her feet and advances toward me, shrieking.

“It’s never you. It never is. Oh my Gawd. Carl! Carl!”

She wraps her arms around me, holding a mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Close to, she smells like a pub ashtray.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry, sho shorry.” She’s talking into my neck now. I look over her shoulder toward Mum. Her eyes are red and glassy; she’s been crying. And drinking. It’s not coffee in their mugs.

“You remember your Auntie Debbie, don’t you?” she says. And I do. Family Christmases from when we were little, her and mum best friends on the sherry before lunch, having a laugh on white wine during the meal, fighting like alley cats on vodka cranberries by the time the Queen’s Christmas message is on.

“For God’s sake, Debs, give him some air. You’re nearly throttling him.”

Debbie unwinds herself and takes a step back.

“Let me look at you. Oh my Gawd, you look like your brother. Oh my Gawd, what a thing to happen.” Tears spill out and trickle down her face. She wipes them away with the back of her hand, then strokes my face, the thumb of her cigarette hand tracing my cheekbone. The smoke makes my eyes sting and I start to cough.

“Here, let me get you some water.” Through my coughing I hear her going over to the sink, running the tap. Then she’s back in my face again, thrusting a mug of water at me, holding it up to my face like I was a toddler.

“Here, here, have some of this.” She slops some into my face.

Have it. Swallow it. Breathe it.
Rob’s here, whispering, goading me. And it’s not tap water, it’s the vile stuff from the bottom of the lake — cold and rank. It’s trying to choke me, get inside me, in my throat, in my lungs.

“No!”

I dash the mug from her hand and it flies across the room and smashes against a wall.

“Carl, what are you doing?” Mum’s screaming at me. Debbie’s screaming, too.

“I was only trying to help! He’s gone mad, Kerry. What’s wrong with him?”

“Shut up! Shut up! You don’t understand!” I blunder out of the room, stagger upstairs, and shut myself in my room, but not before I’ve heard Debbie say, “Wild animals, Kerry. Just like you said! You said they were wild animals and I didn’t believe you …”

The musty smell in the room is stronger than ever. I lie flat on my mattress, trying to calm down.
Everything’s all right,
I tell myself.
Neisha likes you. You kissed her, remember? It’s going to be okay.

But it’s not okay.

The stain on the ceiling is bigger, darker. It’s spreading down the walls, like fingers stretching out, reaching toward me. I can feel Rob’s presence … He’s here in the dampness, hanging in the air.

You always wanted her, didn’t you?

It’s not real, is it?

She deserves this. You both do.

I put my hands over my ears and turn over on my side, bringing my knees up to my chest.

“Stop it! Stop it!”

I’ll kill you, Cee. See if I don’t …

“Just stop it, all right? I’m not listening. Leave me alone.”

There’s a hand on my back. He’s here. I can feel him. I don’t want to look. I don’t want him here, I can’t bear it. I raise my arm up and swipe it behind me. My hand slams into warm flesh and there are two screams, one close, one farther away. I look over my shoulder and Mum’s on her arse on the floor, gaping like a fish. Auntie Debbie’s standing in the doorway.

Mixed up with their screams is another sound: laughter, bouncing off the walls, rattling around the inside of my skull.

I
’m on my feet now and I’m throwing myself down the stairs, heading for the door.

“He’s gone mad, Kerry. He’s not safe …”

I run out the front and through the yard, vault over the wall, and I’m gone. I don’t know where I’m running to, but I can’t stay in that place another minute. I run blindly through the alleys and paths, past back-garden fences and garages and bins. I want to run forever, but my tank is nearly empty before I even begin. I slow to a jog and then start walking. My throat’s dry and my legs are like lead.

I’m around the back of the school, near a set of ramshackle buildings known as The Sheds, where the caretakers run their own little empire. It’s the middle of Saturday afternoon now. School’s empty. No staff. No kids. I duck through a gap in the chain-link fence and I’m in. The huts themselves are locked, but there’s a kind of porch outside one of them with two canvas chairs set up. I sit in one of them and try to get things straight in my head.

I’m sorry I hit Mum. If it was just me and her, I could go back home and apologize. Maybe she’d hit me back, maybe she wouldn’t. Whatever. I could take it. And I’ve got a feeling we’d
be all right. We’ve been starting to get on. But now that Debbie’s there, it’s different. She’ll be twittering on and on, winding her up. I can’t go home. Not now, not yet.

The thing is, I know what this is about now. Why Rob’s so angry. He’s jealous of me and Neisha, angry at me for protecting her from him. He wants Neisha dead. And he wants to make me pay by killing her. He thinks I owe him my loyalty. Well, I’m not doing it. No way. She’s beautiful and kind, and I’m starting to feel like she could be my girl. It’s the best feeling ever. I’m not going to let him take it away.

I’ve got to find a way to tell him that. What can he do, after all? He’s dead, isn’t he?

I sit back in the chair and close my eyes. And it’s him that I see. His pale face, the zipper going up and over it. And I know in the pit of my stomach that he
will
hurt me if I refuse him. He’s in the water and water is everywhere and it feels like he can use it against me. And seeing him, hearing him, smelling him — every day, over and over — is tipping me closer and closer to madness. I hit Mum. What else will I do?

I’ve got to get rid of him.

Something starts buzzing in my pocket, then a ringtone blares out. Rob’s phone. For a crazy moment I think it’s him. I bring it out of my pocket, but I’m too scared to look. Then I realize how stupid I’m being. I look at the screen. Neisha.

“Carl, where are you?” Her voice is small; she sounds miles away.

“I’m around the back of my school. Where are you?”

“The end of my street. I had to get out, get away for a bit.”

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you.
Can
I see you?”

“ ’Course.”

She doesn’t go to this school, she goes to the one on the other side of town; blazers and ties and “yes sir, no sir.” I tell her how to find The Sheds and set out to meet her halfway.

I see her before she sees me, and my stomach goes soft again. Walking on her own she looks so vulnerable. More than ever, more than anything, I want to keep her safe. When she spots me, she looks away and wipes her face with her sleeve. As I get close I see that her mouth is twitching — she’s trying not to cry.

“Neisha, what is it?”

“Not here. Not in the street,” she says. We turn in silence and head toward the school. Our hands meet and again I get the shock of her warmth, radiating up my arm. Despite everything, it gives me a surge of hope.

I lead her through the gap in the fence onto the school grounds. Now that we’re away from view, her shoulders start shaking and I step forward and put my arms around her. She leans her head on my shoulder and it’s several minutes before she speaks.

“Everything’s so bad, so wrong.”

“Has something else happened?”

“My dad … he says we’re going to move back to Brum when the factory here closes.”

It feels like the ground’s opening up and swallowing us.
She can’t move back. I can’t lose her. Not now. I hold her tighter and stroke her hair and savor the feeling of her hands on my waist.

“He went ballistic just now, because I was out for longer than I said, because I was out with —”

“— with me.”

“Yeah. He hated Rob. Now he’s saying this place is toxic, that we should never have come here …”

Her body’s shaking again. I kiss the top of her head, her temple, her cheek. She’s warm, so warm. She moves a little, tipping her face toward mine, and I find her lips. They’re soft and wet and taste of salty tears. I press my mouth against hers gently, ready to pull back at the first hint of rejection, but after a second or two she responds to me, angling her head a little more, kissing me back. I open my mouth and she mirrors me and we take each other in — my top lip in her mouth, her bottom lip in mine. It’s full and fleshy and wet and warm, and I’m melting inside, meltingly hot inside and out.