The Jump (4 page)

Sam stood at Logan’s window staring at the road bridge. Ellie watched him. He hadn’t turned when she opened the door, as if he was transfixed by the view. She imagined Logan standing on the same spot, gazing out to sea. Was that all it was, proximity? Had Logan killed himself because he saw that damn bridge every day when he opened his curtains? Maybe he wasn’t any more depressed or angry or suicidal than any other teenager, it’s just that he had the idea implanted in his head by that metal-and-concrete monstrosity looming over his life. There were increased suicide rates near high buildings and bridges. Many more suicides in countries where guns were easily available. And there were clusters, Ben was correct, but Ellie knew in her heart that was just down to human nature. Not exactly peer pressure, kids weren’t egging each other on to do it. It’s just that once you saw it was possible, a viable alternative to living, that really opened your eyes. She knew that from her own experience. Since Logan, she’d thought about following him into the water every day. The truth was she didn’t have the nerve.

Sam turned. He had tears in his eyes. ‘I can’t believe we were up there. It seems like a dream or something. A nightmare. This whole thing is a nightmare.’

Ellie went over to him. ‘I know.’

She looked at the stubble on his chin. He was definitely older than Logan, whose facial hair had been wispy fluff. Sam’s was more like Ben’s, but many years away from going grey.

Sam wiped at his nose with his sleeve and she wanted to tell him to use a tissue. All those years of motherhood ingrained in her now, impossible to shake off. Not that she wanted to shake it off, once she was no longer a mother, she was nothing.

She put an arm round him but he pulled away. Already she longed for the closeness they’d had earlier, when she’d helped him back to the house. That was real mothering, like looking after a toddler whose every need is your responsibility. She craved that burden on her shoulders.

He had his phone out his pocket.

‘I need to find Libby,’ he said.

‘I’ll help you,’ Ellie said. ‘But you can’t go out looking for her just now. The police are everywhere.’

He stared at her, doubtful. She needed to be an authority, needed to control this situation before it got away from her, like everything else.

‘And you can’t stay here either,’ she said. ‘Ben will be back soon.’

He glanced out the window. ‘Maybe I should go to the police.’

She reached out and touched his chin, moved his head until he was facing her.

‘No,’ she said, her voice steady. ‘You want to protect your sister, don’t you?’

He nodded.

‘Think about it,’ Ellie said. ‘What you did was attempted murder. You’re old enough to go to prison, then who would look after Libby?’

He was shaking with sobs. She stroked his face.

‘Shhh, it’s fine, I keep telling you I’ll take care of everything.’

His breathing calmed and he nodded.

She had the urge to say ‘good boy’, as if he was a three-year-old who’d eaten his broccoli, but she held back. Her hand was still on his cheek, wet now with tears. She took it away and sucked at her finger, the saltiness that had been part of his body until a moment ago now inside her, part of her.

‘The first thing you need to do is get out of that T-shirt and hoodie,’ she said.

He frowned.

‘The blood?’

A look of realisation on his face. Had he really forgotten he was walking around with his father’s blood on his clothes?

She began undoing the zip on his hoodie but he put his hand on hers.

‘It’s only on the T-shirt.’

Ellie shook her head. ‘It could’ve transferred. Better take both off to be sure.’

She turned to Logan’s drawers. Opened the top one, full of the stuff he preferred to wear. She thought about what had been biggest on him, oversized, so that it might fit Sam better. There was a baggy red Superdry top, but red was stupid, too easily spotted and remembered, better to have something dark and anonymous. No brand names or logos either. There was no chance of that though, not in a teenage boy’s wardrobe. The best she could find was a black Adidas hoodie, the three white stripes small on the chest. She pulled a T-shirt out of the drawer, a plain green thing that Logan had got from French Connection, way overpriced, she remembered, the stitching flimsy along the seams.

When she turned round Sam was naked from the waist up, holding his T-shirt and hoodie scrunched up in his fists. Good muscle definition, flat stomach, hairless chest. Definitely a couple of years older than Logan, closer to being a man.

She handed him the clean clothes and took the bloody ones from him. Watched as he pulled the clothes on then checked his phone again.

He was now dressed entirely in Logan’s clothes. Ellie closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and sighed. She looked down at the stained bundle in her hand. This was bad, all of it, but she was still in control. That’s what she told herself, she was still in control of this situation.

She led him out the back door and locked it behind her. It was twilight now, street and house lights coming on across the water, the orange sheen from the bridge lights making the churn of the Forth look radioactive. The gloom would help them, though.

She pushed Sam ahead of her, down to the beach. The clatter of pebbles and shingle under their feet was loud in Ellie’s ears. She had a small rucksack slung over one shoulder and was clutching a Tesco carrier bag with all Sam’s clothes in it. She wasn’t sure how yet, but she would have to get rid of them.

They headed west along the beach, the backs of the posher houses overlooking them. Hopefully it was dark enough now that they couldn’t be seen, or maybe just mistaken for a couple of dog walkers. The tide was out so they could get quite far along on the pebbles before they reached the larger rocks of the embankment under the road bridge. They passed the converted steading and the residential home then reached some oak trees and trudged up through them till they came out on Shore Road directly under the bridge. The concrete supports were fenced off, barbed wire across the top, security signs everywhere. Inside the fenced-off area were diggers, giant rolls of metal wire, huge pipes. It was like a kid’s play set on a massive scale.

They risked a hundred yards on Shore Road then ducked through some more trees and across the car park at the back of the marina. It was dark here, not enough money to keep the security lights operating, they had brought it up at marina committee meetings, Ellie remembered. Long, thin warehouses and boat sheds were all around them, boats parked up on lanes and alleyways as well, from tiny dinghies through bigger sailboats to macho powerboats.

They went round past the toilets and block of changing rooms rather than risk walking past the yacht clubhouse or the coastguard Portakabin. Not that there would be anyone inside at this time, skeleton staff on reduced shifts these days.

Ellie and Sam skirted the last of the boats in the dinghy park then rounded the workshop nearest the quay, the slipway down to the water’s edge a mess of mud and seaweed. They clambered on to the pier then scurried along it. At the marina shed they walked past the weather-beaten sign prohibiting the landing of foreign animals, then Ellie stopped at the security gate that led down to the berths.

She looked around but couldn’t see anyone. She didn’t want to run into one of the old seadogs tinkering on their boats. She turned to Sam and nodded at the gate.

‘I’ll show you the code in case you need to come and go. It’s C0604, then you turn this dial.’ She showed him carefully, and the door clunked open.

Sam looked round. ‘I’ve never been here before.’

Ellie closed the gate. ‘Now you try. The “4” is a bit stiff.’

He opened it no problem and she ushered him down the steps. There were four rows of pontoons leading off from the main one, all pointing at the breakwater further out. The harbour walls either side meant the water was calm and the pontoons only swayed a little under their weight.

‘We’re D8,’ Ellie said, pointing. ‘This way.’

Up the last pontoon, along to the eighth berth and there was the Porpoise, the boat she and Ben had owned for a decade. Named after their little purpose, of course. A scruffy 1980s Hunter Horizon, twenty-three footer, twin keel, with a crappy four-stroke outboard slung on the back. Off-white with blue trim and in serious need of a paint job. She wasn’t much but she was all they could afford.

Ellie pulled on the mooring rope to bring the bow next to the pontoon, held it tight for Sam to get on board then followed him.

‘This is yours?’ he said, taking it in.

‘Mine and Ben’s.’

‘So you can sail?’

‘Ben’s the real sailor, but yeah, I can sail.’

The mast and rigging clanked as the boat rocked. There wasn’t much room on deck with the two of them there, and the motion of the boat made Sam stumble then steady himself.

‘It’s better below deck,’ Ellie said. ‘Come into the cabin.’

There was a padlock on the small wooden door to the cabin. She took out a key and unlocked it, then went inside and sat down. He followed, ducking to avoid banging his head. They sat on opposite benches with the tiny mess table between them. She put the plastic bag of his clothes down and took the rucksack off her shoulder.

She pointed to the forward cabin, where a snug berth was squeezed into the space. ‘That’s your bed for tonight. There are blankets in the drawer underneath.’

She unzipped the rucksack and began pulling things out. She’d spent five minutes at the house packing a bag, trying to think what Sam might need. She laid it all out on the table now. Cheese sandwiches, crisps, three Wispas, bananas and a large bottle of water. She pulled out a metal box. ‘This is a portable battery. I presume your iPhone is running out of juice?’

He checked his phone and nodded. ‘Ten per cent.’

She pulled a connector out and plugged it into the battery. A small blue light went on. She offered the other end of the connector and he inserted it in his phone.

She pulled toilet roll out the rucksack and pointed a thumb to the side of the entrance. ‘There’s a chemical toilet over there.’

He nodded.

‘Are you hungry?’

A shake of the head.

‘You should eat,’ Ellie said. ‘Here.’

She picked up a Wispa and undid the wrapper for him, handed it over. He bit and chewed like it was made of dust.

‘And drink plenty of fluids,’ she said. ‘It’s important.’

She pointed to the small stove in the corner. ‘There’s a kettle, coffee, teabags and UHT milk in the cupboard above the ring. You want a cup of tea just now?’

‘No.’

He put the chocolate down and reached for the water bottle and she watched as he glugged, Adam’s apple rising and falling.

‘Get some sleep,’ she said.

She took two pills out her pocket and placed them on the table.

‘They’re herbal,’ she said. ‘Nothing to worry about. They’ll just help you to go over, that’s all.’

He stared at them but didn’t speak.

‘Stay here for now,’ she said, ‘until I find out what the situation is out there.’

She pointed towards the porthole behind him.

‘You said we were going to find Libby?’ he said.

Ellie nodded. ‘I am. That’s the first thing I’m going to do.’

She got her phone out her pocket and nodded at his phone on the table.

‘I presume you’ve got a picture of her?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Send it to my phone, and forward me her number too.’

Ellie told him her number and he began pressing buttons. She got the picture on her phone and looked at it. A selfie taken in a bathroom, lips pouting, obvious make-up, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders like she’d just shaken her head a second before. She wore large-framed geek glasses and a white T-shirt with a small black heart over the breast. She was still a kid, trying to be a grown-up like all girls that age. She was pretty in a gawky kind of way, a seriousness in her eyes that made her look older.

‘She’s eleven, yeah?’

‘Eleven.’

‘And your dad has been hurting her?’

His head still down, looking at his phone, a slight nod.

‘How long for?’

He didn’t speak.

‘Sam, it could be important.’

He looked up. ‘Why?’

‘It just might.’

‘I don’t know.’ Sam’s hands began to shake. ‘Today was the first time I actually saw anything but . . .’

His chest rose and fell, sharp breaths.

Ellie put her hand out and took his.

‘Take it easy,’ she said.

‘I’ve been thinking about it all day,’ he said. ‘She never said anything to me, not exactly, but I think she might’ve been trying to let me know. She used to come into my room late at night and just sit around. Like she was nervous. I thought she was just being a pest. I used to chuck her out. If I’d been a better brother, maybe she could’ve told me. I should’ve asked if anything was wrong.’

‘You can’t blame yourself. Your dad’s the one who’s been doing awful things, not you.’

Sam held her gaze. ‘Do you blame yourself for your son jumping off the bridge?’

Ellie took a deep breath. ‘It’s different.’

‘How?’

‘It just is.’ She hated the tone of her voice, like a strict schoolteacher. ‘Look, can you tell me exactly what happened today?’

He shook his head.

‘It might help.’

‘I can’t.’

His body was shaking again. He was on the edge of coming apart all the time. Ellie knew how that felt.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘But Libby left the house?’

‘After . . .’ He stopped, scratched at his hand. ‘I was just standing there looking at him. Then I went to find her but she must’ve run out the house. I was kind of in a trance or something. I don’t even know if she has her phone with her.’

‘Where might she have gone?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Could she be back home by now?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Why not?’

‘She saw me, and Dad. Saw the knife and everything.’

‘So?’

‘Would you go back if it was you?’

Ellie thought. ‘Maybe, if I had nowhere else to go.’

‘There is nowhere else.’

‘What about a secret place she likes to hang out?’

He shook his head. ‘Nothing like that.’

‘Are you sure?’

He looked up. ‘Shit. There was somewhere she mentioned, I never thought before.’

‘What?’

‘She’s been smoking with her friend Cassie. I told her it’s stupid. Cassie’s dad has a lock-up garage, they go there. I think it’s on the lane under the rail bridge, past the Hawes Inn?’

Ellie nodded. ‘I’ll try there first.’

‘And if she’s not there?’

‘I’ll try your home.’

‘That’s too dangerous.’

Ellie got up. ‘I need to find out what the situation is with your dad anyway.’

‘How are you going to do that?’

She put her phone in her pocket. ‘I don’t know yet. I’ll find Libby and I’ll find out what’s happening, then we can start getting things sorted.’

‘This is never going to be sorted,’ Sam said.

Ellie looked at him. ‘It will. Things won’t be the same again, but there’s still a way out of this for you, I promise.’

‘You can’t promise that,’ Sam said.