Noughts and Crosses (26 page)

And I still didn’t know why.

I can’t keep doing this, bouncing between Mother and Minnie and school and Callum like a pinball. Everyone’s controlling my life except me. And I can feel it’s going to get worse, not better. I need to do something. I need . . . I need to get out of here.

But Callum . . .

I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to leave him. But I must. Callum’s a survivor. I’m not. He’ll understand if I explain it to him. I can’t think when I’m around him. He confuses me. Around him, all I do is think about him. Sad, but true! Pathetic, but true!

He kissed me tonight. And held me. And ran his hands over my back and my bum and my waist. And pressed me against him. And it felt so strange. Like I belonged right there with him. Except I didn’t. I wish I knew why he did it. If only I could read his mind.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Callum and I . .?

STOP
!

Don’t be ridiculous. You’re fourteen, for goodness’ sake. Sephy, you need to get a life – literally! By the time you’re ready to settle down, Callum will probably be married with six kids. Sort yourself out first, your life out second, and your love life out last! As if Callum
would be interested in a kid like you anyway?

But he did kiss me . . .

Listen to me, talking to myself. Telling myself off. I’m really losing it. But I need to take my own advice. Get away. Get a life. Start now, before it’s too late.

‘Mother, I want to go away to school.’

Mother opened her eyes and blinked at me like a stunned owl. ‘W-what, sweetie?’

‘I want to go away to school. I need to get away from here, from . . . everything.’

‘W-where would you go?’ Mother struggled to sit up on her bed. Her eyes were vampire red. There was a telltale smell in the room. I looked at Mother and it was like looking in a mirror that foretold the future. But only for an instant. The smell was vile, the sight was worse. And the mirror cracked.

‘I want to go away to school. A boarding school somewhere . . .’

Callum . . .

‘I was thinking maybe Chivers Boarding School ’cause it’s not too far away.’

Just far enough away to keep me away from here. Too far for weekend visits in either direction. Far enough away to find something I liked about myself. Far enough away to grow up.

‘Only about one hundred and fifty kilometres,’ I continued.

Callum . . .

‘But . . . what would I do without you?’

I could see from Mother’s eyes that our conversation
was finally beginning to sink in.

‘You’ll have Minnie. And the servants. And all your friends and your parties and . . . everything.’ I forced a smile. ‘I want to go. Please, Mother?’

‘You really want to leave?’

‘Yes.’

Mother looked at me. A moment of perfect understanding between us. And it made me so sad. I almost changed my mind then. Almost. But not quite.

‘I can see you’ve made your mind up about this.’

‘I have.’

‘And when would you want to start?’

‘Now. Or in September at the latest.’

‘But September’s only a few months away.’

‘I know.’

Mother looked at me, then lowered her gaze. ‘I don’t think so, sweetie,’ she said, sombrely.

‘Mother, I want to go.’

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ Mother said, shaking her head.

‘For who? You or me?’

‘I said no, Sephy.’

I turned and slammed out of her room, grimly satisfied at the muffled wail Mother let out at the noise. I leaned against the wall, trying to figure out what my next move should be. In a moment of pure clarity I realized there was only one thing holding me back. One person stopping me from packing my bags and walking to Chivers right now. I had no idea how I was going to explain my plans to him but I had to. Callum would understand. He’d be on my side once he understood my reasons. Callum and I were
like two sides of the same coin.

If Mother thought I was going to let the matter stop and drop here, she had another thought coming. I needed to get away. Get out.

Before it was too late.

‘Tell me about your brother’s involvement with the Liberation Militia.’

‘My brother’s not in the Liberation Militia,’ I denied, the words coming out as little more than a slur. I was so tired. How long had we been doing this? One hour? Twenty?

Two plain-clothed officers sat at the table opposite me. Only one of them was doing the talking though. This was obviously their version of bad cop, silent cop. ‘I’ll ask you again, which
L.M
. cell d’you belong to?’

‘I don’t. I don’t. I don’t.’

‘When did Jude join the Liberation Militia?’

‘He didn’t – as far as I know.’

‘When did your mother join the
L.M
.?’

‘She didn’t. She hasn’t.’

‘You sound very sure.’

‘I am.’

‘You weren’t that sure about your brother.’

‘I . . . I am.’

‘What
L.M
. cell does your father belong to?’

‘None of them.’

‘Come on now. We know all about your family’s involvement with the
L.M
.’

‘What d’you need me for then?’

The two officers exchanged a look. I was cheesing them off. Good.

‘Corroboration,’ said the silent one at last. ‘Confirm what we know already and we’ll go easy on you.’

‘I don’t know anything.’ I tried to rest my head on my arms on the table but the one who’d done most of the talking pushed my head back up. I sat back in my chair, utterly weary and something else besides. But I wasn’t going to show them that.

‘Don’t mess us about, son.’

‘I’m not your son.’

‘And I’m not someone you want to make an enemy of,’ said the non-talkative officer.

‘Whose idea was the Dundale bomb? Your brother’s or your father’s?’

‘You all hate Crosses, don’t you?’

‘You’d all do whatever it took to annihilate the lot of us. That’s true, isn’t it?’

‘How old were you when you joined the
L.M
.?’

And on. And on. And round. And round. Question after question. No rest. No peace. No respite. Until my head was spinning giddy and each question echoed with the one before it and the one before that. Until I thought,
So this is what it’s like to go crazy . . .

And what about Mum and Dad and Jude? Where were
they? What were they doing? Why were the police so intent on my brother? I bit down hard on my bottom lip, terrified that I was actually voicing my thoughts, terrified of what I might give way. Think of something else. Think of nothing at all. Think of nothing. And that’s when my mind closed down and the world stopped spinning.

I opened my eyes slowly. Please, no more questions. I couldn’t take any more questions. I wasn’t in the interrogation room any more. I was back in my cell, with Mum sitting on the bed beside me, stroking my hair back off my face.

‘Callum? Thank goodness. Are you OK? They didn’t hurt you.’

I took my time to sit up, shaking my head as I did so.

‘W-where’s Dad? Where’s Jude?’ I asked.

‘Your dad’s still being questioned and,’ Mum took a deep breath, ‘I don’t know where Jude is. He wasn’t in the house when those animals came crashing in.’

‘He wasn’t? What’s going on? What do they want? Why’re they going on and on about Jude?’

‘They found an empty can of drink near to where the Dundale bomb went off,’ Mum said grimly.

‘So?’

‘So, the can had Jude’s prints all over it. So they say. It’s a damned lie of course but they reckon they cross-referenced it with the print on his
ID
card.’

‘But how did they get hold of his
ID
card…?’ And then I realized.

Mum nodded. ‘They scanned in his card when we were at the hospital. I guess they got the information from
the computer before the nurse had a chance to delete it – if she ever really did.’

‘But Jude didn’t . . .’ I looked straight at Mum. ‘Did he?’

‘They’re saying he planted the bomb. They’re saying w-when they catch him, he’ll . . . he’ll hang.’ And Mum’s face dissolved into a stream of tears.

‘They won’t get him. Once Jude knows they’re looking for him . . .’ I said, frantically.

‘It’s just a matter of time.’ Mum shook her head. ‘We both know that. And they’ve already issued a reward for information leading to his capture.’

‘What kind of reward?’

‘Fifty thousand.’

There was nothing to be said at that. Words and tears and prayers were useless. With that kind of money up for grabs it was just a matter of time before Jude was arrested.

‘They’ve probably planted the evidence themselves. They don’t have a clue who planted that bomb and they’re just looking for a scapegoat.’ My voice was barely above a whisper. I couldn’t take it all in. They wanted to
hang
my brother. Nothing on this earth would make me believe he’d actually planted that car bomb. He might’ve been there, but he wouldn’t’ve been the one to put it together and set it to go off. Jude wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. ‘If they only want Jude, why’re they still questioning Dad?’

‘Dad demanded to see them once we knew why they were after Jude,’ Mum told me.

‘Why? What’s Dad doing?’

‘I have no idea.’ Mum wiped her eyes with the back of
her hand. ‘Probably saying the same as you, no doubt. I just hope he’s careful.’

I stared at Mum. ‘What d’you mean?’

Mum just shook her head. Before I could speak, the cell door clicked open. An officer I hadn’t seen yet, opened the door wide. He was a slim man with cutting eyes who looked at us like we were worse than nothing.

‘You two can go now.’

‘Where’s my husband?’ Mum asked at once.

‘He’s being held, after which he’ll be formally charged,’ the officer told us.

‘Charged with what?’ I asked.

‘My husband has done nothing wrong. Why’s he being held?’ Mum asked, her voice shaking, but it was hard to tell whether it shook with fear or anger.

‘Get your things and leave,’ the officer said. ‘I haven’t got all day.’

‘I demand to know why you’re holding my husband. I want to see him – now.’ Mum exploded.

One look at the officer’s furious expression was enough to tell me that there’d be snowball throwing contests in hell before this guy helped us in any way.

‘You can leave or you can spend the rest of the night in this cell,’ the officer’s voice dripped ice. ‘It’s your choice.’

‘May I see my husband please?’ Mum forced herself to be civil. But it was too late.

‘I’m afraid not. No-one but his lawyer will be allowed to see him until after he’s formally charged,’ the officer told us.

‘What is he going to be charged with?’ I asked again, desperate for an answer.

‘Political terrorism and seven counts of murder.’

‘Come on, Callum! Pick up the phone.’

Nothing doing. It just continued to ring. I glanced down at my watch. Where was everyone? Someone should’ve picked up the phone by now. It was almost nine o’clock in the morning for goodness’ sake!

I put the phone down, trying to swallow down the uneasy feeling in my stomach.