Before She Was Mine (38 page)

‘Fuck,’ said Michael. ‘Frey, phone for an ambulance.’

‘Don’t touch the phone,’ said Kim.

I’d taken one step but now froze, not knowing what to do. In front of me was spread the evidence of my birthday’s first hours: two coffee mugs, torn wrapping paper, an empty plastic
bag, Nicky’s bracelet and wrestling tickets, one visible corner of
Angels Inside Us
, the mad squirrel card and Cliff.

Cliff. He was just about in reach.

‘Let me get you a bandage, at least,’ said Michael. ‘I don’t think it’s too deep.’

‘I can go deeper,’ she said.

If I stretched out my foot and flipped the cover of the singing birthday card with my toe . . .

‘
The young ones!
’ Cliff sang out once more. Kim jumped in alarm, looking round for what she probably thought was a mobile going off. In those few seconds Michael was able to
dart forward and make a karate-type chop at her inside elbow which at last made her drop her weapon. He shoved it away across the carpet with his trainer. The tea towel fell to the floor.

‘No, don’t, Frey,’ he cried as I ran to pick up the vicious shard, but I wasn’t thinking. I prised it from the carpet, carried it out into the kitchen and whizzed it
through the open back door. There was a springy rustle as it hit the hedge and rebounded onto the lawn somewhere.

By the time I got back in, Cliff had finished. Kim was crouched down with Michael bending over her. ‘You bitch,’ she said when she saw me. She sounded outraged.

‘Don’t speak to Freya like that, I won’t have it. Frey, go phone for an ambulance. No, get me TCP first. Under the sink. And a piece of paper towel.’

‘How serious is it?’ I asked, peering at her arm. The coat sleeve was still pushed up and the wound clearly visible. It was shocking to see but blood wasn’t pouring down her
arm, only some smears near the top and a few beads welling up near the wrist. She must only have applied the cutting edge pretty lightly. Maximum effect for minimum pain. Soon she’d start
crying, I guessed.

I turned to go, but as I did so I heard her whisper, ‘Just promise me one thing, Mikey.’

‘If I can,’ he said.

‘Keep your distance.’

‘Huh?’

‘From
her
.’

My jaw clenched with indignation.

‘Do you know, I’ve had enough of this,’ he snapped. When I looked round he’d straightened up, while she’d sunk even further to the floor and was gazing at him with
round, pathetic eyes. ‘Come on, get yourself together and stop talking bollocks.’

‘
Promise
me, though.’

‘Fuck off, Kim. No one tells me who I can and can’t see. Frey, TCP.’

I started again towards the kitchen but she called after me. ‘Hey, Freya.’

‘What?’

She left a deliberate, annoying pause as if I was supposed to be reading her mind or something. Then she said, ‘You think you’re so smart, so on track. But he’ll hurt you too.
You see. He’ll break you the way he broke me. Break you up into little pieces.’

‘God but you’re a mad cow,’ I said, and left them to it.

All I’d done was open the sink cupboard and take out two bottles of Castrol GTX when I heard the front door slam. I was back in the lounge like a shot.

Michael was standing by the sofa with his hands on his head, staring towards the hall. ‘She’s gone,’ he said. His surprise was genuine.

‘Obviously. Like she’s going to hang about for the police.’

‘I told you to call an ambulance.’

‘And they’ll inform the police. She’s been waving the equivalent of a knife around for the last twenty minutes, in case you hadn’t noticed. She needs charging.’

‘She needs medical help.’

‘That I’m not disputing. Look, there’s no point phoning for an ambulance now – where would we direct them? We don’t know where she is. If you call the cops, though,
they can track her down. Then they’ll get a medic on the case. For what it’s worth, that cut was only a scratch. It’s not as though she’s out there bleeding to death.
It’s her head that’s the real mess.’

This ordinary room, scene of so much strife.

‘I can’t believe she hates me that much.’

‘It’s not you she hates, it’s herself. And you can’t do anything about that. Stop thinking you can.’

He looked at me wonderingly. I went to get my mobile.

After the police had left, we huddled together on the sofa drinking Amaretto.

‘It ought to be brandy for shock, but this was all I had in. This and a bottle of Bishop’s Finger.’ Michael laid his neck against the slashed headrest. White filling was poking
out of the cushion by his ear.

‘I thought the police would be ages coming out. When Derek’s garage was broken into, they didn’t turn up till next day.’

‘Certain words trigger an automatic response. “Wounding”, in this case. Do you think they’ll find her?’

‘Duh, yeah. She’s not some criminal mastermind who’s going to melt into the night. She’ll be wandering around a few streets away, or she’ll have taken herself home.
The cops’ll nab her and then she’ll be safe. We all will.’

‘Are
you
OK, Freya?’

‘Uh huh. You?’

He frowned. ‘I can’t believe I got it so wrong. I can’t believe I put you in danger.’

‘You didn’t: she did.’

‘Yeah, but you tried to warn me. Jesus. If she’d hurt you—’

His face was very close to mine.

‘What?’

‘I can’t even think about it. Come here. Happy fucking birthday.’ He held open his arms for me and I sank against him gratefully.

‘I keep seeing her, slicing her arm open.’

Against the wall, the scene re-played itself.

‘Tell me again what project GOLE’s going to be like,’ I said.

‘I won’t know till I get there.’

‘You must have some idea. You researched it, you didn’t just pluck a name out of the air. Use your imagination.’ All I could picture was Disney’s
Aladdin
.

Michael took a breath. ‘God. OK, then, this is what I see . . . There are hills on both sides of the city, and light-coloured buildings climbing up the slopes, modern high-rise flats and
little old square houses and mosques. It’s hot and bright. Some of the walls are damaged or just crumbling with age and although the main streets are busy, the cars and buses look knackered,
like they’re about to fall apart. The project compound’s a tall building with a flat roof and an archway through, olive trees at the corner of the street, shutters on the windows.
Inside the classrooms everything’s a bit worn, a bit basic, but tidy. The accommodation block’s the same.’

‘Wow. That’s impressive.’

‘Off the website, to be honest. No imagination required.’

‘Ah. And will you like it?’

‘Dunno. I’m prepared to give it a bloody good go. The bottom line is, I love fixing broken cars, I get such a kick out of it. To sort a blowing exhaust or clean a carb or fit a new
clutch, it’s sweet. But what if you were able to fix a van for someone who was absolutely desperate to get his fruit to the market before it spoiled, and his whole family were relying on what
he earned that day, and there’d been power cuts all week and he’d been woken every night by gunfire? That would be worth doing, wouldn’t it? The hours I spent mending that van
would really count. I want to go to bed each day feeling I’ve done something that matters. Maybe I’m being self-indulgent. Maybe I’m going travelling to prevent a mid-life crisis
or make myself more interesting or pick up a nice tan. But to the people I’ll be helping, my motive’s irrelevant. And no, I can’t explain exactly why I want to go there of all
places. Just, I read about the project and something fired up in me. I can
see
myself there.’

There was such hope and energy in his voice. I’d never heard him speak like that before, not in all the years I’d known him. I could feel the excitement flowing out of him like an
electric current.

‘Am I making sense?’ he asked.

I said, ‘Nicky fancies you.’

A beat, and then he cracked out laughing. I suppose it was a release.

‘
Nicky?
’

‘I thought you should know. She wants to ask you out.’

‘Oh dear. She’s going to be disappointed, then. Nicky Steuer! You’re joking, right?’

‘Nope.’

‘God, I didn’t see that one coming.’

‘But you like her.’

‘I do, yeah. That’s all, though. Bloody hell. Seriously, can you imagine her here? She’d be spreading sheets of newspaper over the furniture before she sat down. See these
hands.’ He held out fingers grimed around the cuticles with engine oil. ‘Now picture those going anywhere near her nice clean office suits. How would that work? She’s a cracking
girl, I’ll grant you, but she’s not for me.’

‘Oh,’ I said.

‘Is she serious?’

‘I’m not sure. You might be a rebound job.’

‘Makes sense. You’d better have a word, head her off at the pass. Tell her I’m off any day. That should fix it. Christ, though. I wish I could learn to read women. My life
would be a whole lot simpler for it.’

My heart was beating really hard now. I thought,
What would happen now if I reached up and took your face between my palms, and kissed you?
Such a little action, in the scheme of things;
the gesture of a moment. If it turned out to be wrong, then it was over and done with. Michael could keep a secret. He’d be kind. Be brave, Freya. A picture rose in my mind, unbidden, of
Christian: that golden promise, yet in the end just a feeble boy still at his mother’s beck and call. Nicky, meanwhile, getting on with it, making a new life for herself, making good out of
bad. Then I thought of Liv dealing every day with cancer and the fear of cancer. Melody quietly grieving for Elizabeth. Geraint terrified of hospitals, more terrified of being alone. No doubt about
it, life was grim and you had to be strong. How hard must it be to admit to another woman that she’s brought your child up well, for instance? Or to let your adopted daughter go stay with her
shiny new birth mum? Or, going further back, to give up your baby because you realise you can’t cope? The world was full of small but extraordinary acts of courage, all connecting up like a
great network of goodness. Two middle-aged mothers coming together to defend a newt, and each other: miraculous.

‘Wait,’ I blurted out. ‘I said no before, but I was wrong.’

‘About what?’

‘I want to come with you. If there’s a place for me, I want to go to Project GOLE and help.’ I needed to get the words out quickly before I lost my nerve. ‘I know you
asked me and I said no, because I was thinking of Liv and Melody and flying and just the general scariness of, you know, everything, and it felt like too big a jump. But everything
worthwhile’s a jump, isn’t it? I’m twenty-four, it’s not the end of my story. Would I be any use out there? Do you think they’d want me?’

He stared at me, then shook his head.

‘But I know about plants and pesticides, that’s always useful wherever you go in the world. And I can read up on Middle Eastern horticulture. Or if they didn’t want help
growing stuff I could teach a bit of English. Or do canteen work, laundry. Anything domestic. I’m dead practical.’

‘Frey, you’d hate it.’

‘Not if you were there.’

Michael sighed and drew his hand over his jaw. ‘No, honestly. I see what you’re doing. You don’t want me to go, do you?’

‘You know I don’t.’

‘So you’re having a flap about being left. But it’s all right, I’ll be back in a year. No big deal.’

‘I
want
to come.’

‘Oh, little Freya.’ He ruffled my hair in a way that made me want to swear. ‘This isn’t one of your zombie films where the hero has to scramble for the last helicopter.
You’ve got nothing to escape from. You have a perfectly OK life here.’

‘“Perfectly OK” isn’t—’

‘And the place I’m going to is, well, so different. You’d be homesick straight away. It’d be risky, too. Not out and out dangerous, probably, but challenging and hard
work. Uncomfortable, sometimes. You’d have to be careful what you wore, and where you went at certain times of the day. You wouldn’t have the freedom you’re used to. You might not
like the food— Oh, shit, you’re bleeding.’

‘Huh? Where?’

I followed his gaze down to my fingers and saw an orange-brown stain across three of the pads.

‘You must have cut yourself when you picked the glass up.’

‘I never felt it.’

‘You don’t when it’s very sharp.’ Gently he pressed on the tip of my index finger and a cut like a mouth opened, blood filling the gap. ‘Ouch. Let me get you some
plasters.’

‘Wait.’ I grasped his sleeve with my good hand and held on. ‘Listen to me. Explain how is this compound place is going to be riskier than what happened in your lounge tonight.
Hey? Because if I can outwit a lunatic wielding a deadly bit of window—’

His expression was so patient I wanted to slap him. ‘I
know
, Frey, you were great. Really brave. And I’m really flattered you’ll miss me that much.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. You really are the most annoying man I’ve ever met. If I want to apply to Project GOLE, you can’t stop me. I can use a search engine, I can fill in
a form. I’m young, I’m sane. Why does everyone think I need protecting from everything? Why can’t I at least try? God, you must think I’m rubbish.’

At last he looked serious. ‘Freya, you’re one of the least rubbish people I know.’

‘Then why are you being so totally obstructive about it?’

‘Because, because it’s not the right fit for you.’

‘The “right fit”?’

‘Don’t get me wrong, it’s brilliant that you want to go—’

‘You patronising bastard! Has tonight taught you nothing?’

That did seem to check him slightly. ‘You’ve no passport.’

‘I’ll apply for one.’

‘Look, I’m not explaining it properly. What it is, some people are risk takers and some aren’t. I
know
you’re better off here with your mums and Nicky and the
nursery, the things around you that you like. It’s where you belong. Don’t you trust my judgement?’

‘Actually, no. Not any more. You’re not some ruddy guru—’

‘I never said I was.’

‘It’s not like every time you open your mouth, some great truth spills out. You get stuff wrong as well. You don’t always know best.’