All That Is Lost Between Us (3 page)

Zac says nothing, but his mouth falls open. Instinctively I go across and put my arms around him, and when he stiffens I remember that this isn't the done thing any more, especially not with friends present. Reluctantly I let him go and fly out of the room, down the stairs, calling out, ‘I've got my mobile. Try to get hold of your dad,' even though I have no idea if he's listening.

The next thing that stands between my daughter and me is our bloody car, which is reluctant to start even though it's only September – we barely need rain and the sodding thing seems to catch mechanical flu. As usual, Callum has taken the Land Rover and left me with this heap of junk – the handle flapping loosely in my hand as I close the door. Finally I get the engine going and I'm away down the road, the car grunting in protest as I try to negotiate the gears too quickly.

It had been Liam, my brother-in-law, on the phone. A man with a big laugh and a fierce competitive streak that always emerges when his little brother Callum is around. In the twenty years I have known him I have never heard him sound frightened before, but a short time ago a car scattered our children like ninepins down Vicarage Lane.

While this was happening I had been hurrying through the nightly chores, still smarting from the latest pointless sarcastic exchange with Callum, grumbling to myself about the lack of help. I had planned to check my diary and case notes for tomorrow and, once finished, to put my feet up with a glass of wine, and decide whether it would be a book or television that would keep me company tonight. That is the extent of my choices, since our children live in their rooms nowadays, and my husband is usually volunteering at the Mountain Rescue depot – sometimes helping people who have got lost on Lakeland walks, sometimes filing paperwork and running training courses, and sometimes, I fear, simply avoiding me.

My mind replays the tremor in Liam's voice. As a police sergeant, he has witnessed the aftermath of these accidents more than most. But tonight his panic is pervasive, and I drive like a maniac all the way down towards the main road, the car swinging wildly as I change direction. I speed towards the town centre, causing a neon ‘30' sign to light up in reprimand as I whiz past, then take the one-way system towards Vicarage Lane.

I slow as soon as I see the flashing lights ahead. Where usually there is only a dark, quiet country road, the place is garish and bustling, the strobing colours reflecting over the church and graveyard, as though there might be a celebration going on beneath the headstones tonight.

I stop the car, fling the door open, jump out and break into a run, just as one of the ambulances starts up and accelerates past me. Behind me, I hear the siren begin to wail, and I swing around to watch it go. Who is inside? Who needs them to move in such a hurry?

Seconds later, a squad car emerges from a side road and chases after the ambulance. I get a flash of the person in the passenger seat; it might be Liam, but he is gone too fast for me to be sure.

I rush on, past a small crowd –
how have they managed to gather here already? –
towards the police car. I see a uniformed officer begin to raise his hand. ‘My daughter . . .' I splutter, and as he looks at me his warning signal becomes a trusting wave forward, leading me round to the back of the other ambulance.

‘Does she belong to you?' he asks, and I stop and stare.

My daughter is sitting on the steps of the ambulance, a stranger's coat around her shoulders and a stranger's arm pulling her close. He is beautiful, this boy holding her, and she is leaning into him, sobbing silently against his chest. For a moment she is as much of a stranger as he is, this girl I have held all through her life, this girl who used to fit into my arms as easily as she now fits into his. Before Georgia came along I thought that letting go was something you did when your child turned eighteen and decided to leave home. I didn't realise how regularly your heart could be wrenched by giving them their freedom – the first time they sleep in their own room, or fall over, or go out on their own, or close their bedroom door on you. Each time this happened to me, I said goodbye to some part of my children, and to my power to control their world and keep them safe. Each time I was left feeling helpless and adrift, but none more so than this.

Upon seeing her, at first, there is pure relief. And then the most humiliating emotion descends upon me. Jealousy. She looks so safe, over there. I try to remember an occasion when Callum held me like this. I can't think of any but he must have done, once upon a time.

My instincts kick in seconds later and I rush towards them. ‘Georgia, Georgia, are you okay?'

She looks up as though surprised to find me here.

‘Sophia . . .' she says, and then breaks down in a torrent of tears.

‘Are you hurt, my darling?' I ask, leaning in close to stroke her hair.

‘No, but I would have been. Danny saved me, Mum,' Georgia sobs through her tears. ‘He lifted me out of the way just in time.'

The boy doesn't move but he looks a little awkward. I rub Georgia's arm while I talk to him. ‘I'm Georgia's mum.'

‘Danny Atherton,' he says.

I recognise him now, of course. I've seen him at school, but I've never come into direct contact with him before. Most of my counselling takes place with those who feel lost in some way – the outsiders. Danny is one of the popular crowd – much more rarely do they come knocking on my door.

The ambulance officer comes over to Georgia and gently pulls aside the blanket she is wrapped in. Only then do I see that her jumper is torn – the one she begged me to get her for her birthday. One of the woollen arms has been cut off and Georgia's upper arm and elbow is a mess of blood.

‘Georgia!'

‘Don't worry,' the officer says, beginning to dab at the blood as Georgia winces. ‘It's a nasty graze but not as bad as it looks. Be good as new in a couple of weeks.'

‘Not like Sophia,' Georgia says through her tears.

‘Sophia's leg looks pretty bad,' Danny adds.

I stare at them both. ‘What the hell happened?'

‘Danny!' a male voice breaks through my thoughts and I turn to see a thickset man in a long overcoat hurrying towards us. He passes me as though I'm invisible and lays a hand on Danny's shoulder. I can't help but notice that Danny no longer has his arm around Georgia. I move a little closer to my daughter.

‘Are you okay? Christ, what were you doing out here?' There is so much anger in this man's voice that the ambulance officer stops what he's doing, and I can see the policeman also taking an interest. ‘For god's sake, Danny, you shouldn't be out on a school night, you've got training in the morning.' He sighs as though this is all a considerable inconvenience to him. ‘Come on, let's get you home.'

‘Hang on a second, sir,' the policeman intervenes, as Danny gets to his feet without a word. ‘Your son has been witness to a hit-and-run. We'll need a statement before he leaves, and some follow-up details.'

‘Jesus Christ.' The man looks again at his son. ‘Well, then, let's get on with it.'

They all head off to the police car, Danny trailing the group. He turns back and gives Georgia a long look before he leaves. Georgia holds his gaze for a moment, and then lifts the blanket to bury her face in it.

‘It's not surprising that Georgia is in a little bit of shock,' the ambulance officer says kindly while finishing the dressing. ‘We can take her to hospital for a few hours and keep an eye on her, but she might be more comfortable . . .'

‘I want to go home,' Georgia says quietly.

‘All right, then,' the man says. ‘She's already had some painkillers, and I recommend she keeps taking them for a couple of days. Start with Panadol but see your GP if she needs something stronger. If you have any worries at all, come to the hospital straightaway.' He looks at me sternly.

‘Okay.' I help Georgia down from the step and keep my arm around her as we head towards the police car. One policeman is still talking to Danny, but a female constable comes over. ‘I gather you live nearby?'

I nod.

‘If you want to take her home, we can come and speak to you there.'

‘Thank you, that would be good.'

I give them our address and help Georgia to the car. ‘Don't ask me about any of it, Mum,' Georgia says as soon as I climb in next to her. She turns her face away, her slender body trembling as she hugs herself tightly.

‘You'll have to talk to the police when they come round,' I remind her.

‘I
know
that,' she snaps.

Once I start the engine, I don't say anything more. We might be sitting next to one another, but that's where the closeness ends. I'm desperate to comfort her, but I can't find the right words. On the short journey home, each second is riven by our silence.

W
hen his mother burst into the room, Zac had expected to be reprimanded. Instead her words have left him stunned.

‘I hope Georgia's okay,' Cooper says quietly once she's gone. He pauses. ‘Hey, I'm sure old Jenkins will understand if we can't get our work finished now. Shall we leave it for tonight?' When Zac doesn't respond straightaway, Cooper picks up his pencil, begins to look through his notes, and then throws it down again. He leans back so his chair wobbles dangerously on two legs. ‘Screw this. What use is it going to be in the outside world anyway?'

Zac sighs. ‘If we fail we'll just have to repeat it – more work in the long term.' Why is he saying this, he wonders, because finishing their work is now the last thing on his mind. He imagines the thud, Georgia's body flying through the air – then wishes he hadn't. He feels sick, tries to swallow the burn in his throat, aware Cooper is watching him.

‘What you need is a distraction till we hear from your mum. A few more rounds of Black Ops should do it . . . Or, even better . . .' He grabs Zac's laptop and swings it round to face him, typing fast, then returning it to Zac. ‘There you go,' he says with a laugh.

On the screen are rows and rows of photographs of women showing their breasts, and in some cases a whole lot more.

‘
Jesus
, Cooper!' Zac moves his cursor quickly to the X in the corner and closes the window, only realising afterwards that he has closed down the whole browser and so lost his research too.

Cooper is frowning at him. ‘Calm down, I thought it might take your mind off things. What's the matter – don't tell me your parents still keep tabs on you?'

Zac tries to bite his tongue but he can feel the anger rising. In truth he doesn't think his parents monitor his internet activity much nowadays, but he couldn't be sure.

Cooper is watching Zac. ‘Believe me, even if they do check up on you they'll probably be relieved if they find you doing stuff like that. It's pretty much expected of us at our age.'

‘You don't know where any of those pictures are from,' Zac bites back, feeling himself redden. ‘Those girls might be drunk or on drugs. They might not even remember doing that.'

Cooper screws his face up as though he's eaten something sour. ‘Don't be sick,' he says. ‘Those women are all porn stars. And don't ruin it for me. Guys like us, that's all the action we're likely to be getting for years.'

Zac pulls a face. ‘Thanks a lot. I tell you, they're not all porn stars. Don't you remember what happened last year at school . . .'

‘Of course I do – I'll never forget that! All stored up here,' Cooper laughs, tapping his temple.

Zac rolls his eyes. ‘You're an idiot.' Before he can help himself he has thrown a pencil at his friend, managing to catch Cooper in the eye.

‘Ow!' Cooper's hand flies up to protect his face.

‘Sorry,' Zac mutters. When Cooper tries to open his eye it is already red and streaming. ‘Go and rinse it, it'll be okay.' He feels guilty now, but he can't deal with Cooper any more tonight. ‘Then maybe you should go.'

Cooper gets up and grabs his bag. ‘Look, I'm really sorry about Georgia, I hope she's okay.' He leaves the room and a moment later Zac hears the front door open and then close.

Once Cooper has gone, Zac reopens his laptop and hits restore on the browser, bringing back all his research as well as the page full of naked women. He hesitates, unable to help himself, his eyes lingering over them, scrolling down a little further. His body begins to respond; his cheeks burn. He sighs and closes the tab.

He can still see her, too, if he shuts his eyes. Verity Parker, a popular girl in his sister's year, photographed naked and unabashed in a variety of increasingly explicit poses for her boyfriend, unaware that he was sharing these texts with a group of friends, who in turn were sending them on to others. By the time one of the other girls had openly called her a slut, most of the school had seen the photos. Verity had been shepherded into the headmaster's office, distraught, and no one had seen her since. Her boyfriend stopped coming to school soon after – the rumour was that he had been expelled.

What bothers Zac now was how little he had been troubled originally. Verity had appeared to be enjoying herself in all the photos he'd seen, and that had been enough for him to take pleasure in looking at them. Yet over the following days a special assembly was held at which the students were warned of dire consequences if they were found to have explicit images on any electronic devices. Some people left the hall openly deleting items from their phone, but Zac waited until he was home. Even now, he occasionally catches himself wishing that he had saved them to his computer first, as he knew a few others had done.

Then came the inevitable discussion with his mother. Asked directly if he had seen the photos, he felt unable to lie, so he had just nodded while staring at the floor. ‘Don't be embarrassed, Zac, it's perfectly natural to look,' she'd said, which didn't make sense considering the school was treating them as criminals. ‘It might seem funny at the time, but it's not,' she'd told him. ‘It gives Verity a reputation she'll find very difficult to escape. The girls need to understand the dangers of this; and the boys need to be mature and responsible enough to protect them. If these images make their way onto the internet it's almost impossible to stop them from spreading. Imagine if Georgia or Sophia, or even Maddie, got caught out like this,' she'd added. ‘One mistake can impact the rest of their lives.'