Heartless (4 page)

Glancing over the road at her son’s house, Nessa saw the curtain in the larger bedroom window twitch; she guessed it was Kaitlin. She thought about waving, but in case it was Jamesie looming behind the curtain decided not to. She was fuming with her son: it was high time that she went over there and gave him a piece of her mind. Not today, though. Closing her front door after watching Sophia disappear from view, Nessa looked forward to a lovely day with her granddaughter. Time was precious, and she was going to make the most of it.

Jamesie could wait.

Chapter Four

“Go on, then, what are you waiting for?” The camera balanced on his shoulder, Jonathan felt like a director on a Hollywood film set. He loved the fact that he could zoom in on every detail and watch back the footage he captured over and over again. Aiming the camera at the little red motorboat that he had named
The Hackney Warrior
, Jonathan looked around the lens.

“Press it then, Tommy!” he said, impatiently.

Tommy ignored his brother’s commanding tone. Moving the boat with his foot along the muddy track, he positioned it so that it was facing the river’s edge. Tommy felt nervous: what if, after all their hard work and effort, the boat didn’t work? They had spent so long on this project, and they would both be gutted if there were any last-minute mistakes.

The project had been Tommy’s idea initially: he had wanted to impress Jonathan with it. Jonathan dominated situations, and it had made a change for Tommy to be in control; he had taken great pleasure in being the one to tell Jonathan what to do for once. When Tommy had explained how the motor would work and what they needed to do to build the boat, Jonathan had actually listened. Now it was the day of the filming; this was the final part of their assessment and all the kids in Mrs Winter’s physics class would show their videos tomorrow morning: Jonathan, now in film-director mode, was back to his normal bossy self, acting as if the motor boat was all his idea.

Tommy pressed the red button and steered the boat forwards using the remote control they had made out of scraps of metal and plastic. He felt a flutter of excitement in the pit of his stomach. They had spent almost three weeks working on the project, and Mrs Winters had said that if they managed to film the boat moving on land and then floating on water they should both get an A in their reports. He wasn’t going to let his brother’s domineering behaviour spoil it for him.

“Okay, here goes,” Tommy said excitedly.

The engine whirred loudly, and the boat moved towards the river, slowly at first as its little black wheels gathered speed. Tommy was careful with the steering: he didn’t want it to go too fast at first in case it tipped over before it reached the water. Slowly, it rolled forward. Leaving the path, it flattened the grass as it crossed the muddy verge. Then, gracefully, it tilted its nose into the water.

Tommy held his breath.

“Oh my God, it’s going in... it’s actually going in,” Jonathan said. He stared at the boat, impressed with their design. It plopped off the bank and slid into the dark-green water, and Tommy used the controller to make it speed along.

“We did it.” Tommy laughed, as impressed as Jonathan with what they had achieved. They were bound to get top grades; their mum would be so proud. “Did you get all that?”

The loud whirring that the engine had been making abruptly stopped and the boat came to a halt. They looked over to where she now bobbed aimlessly in the middle of the river.

“What’s happened?” Jonathan asked. He placed the bulky camcorder onto the grass, annoyed that he had to end the recording.

“I don’t know. I guess the engine must have just stopped.” Tommy pressed all the buttons, but nothing happened. “Maybe the remote’s batteries have run out.”

“Here, give it to me.” Jonathan snatched the controller out from Tommy’s grasp. “Didn’t you get any spares? I told you those ones I gave you weren’t up to much. I pinched them out of the remote; they were probably on their last legs. I thought you were going to get some more.” Jonathan was fuming: how dumb was Tommy?

Tommy felt his cheeks flush as he watched his brother smack the bottom of the controller with the palm of his hand in a desperate attempt to bring it back to life. He felt so stupid; the batteries had been his responsibility, and looking over to the boat in the water, he knew that he had ruined their project now.

“I’m sorry, Jonathan, I must have forgotten,” Tommy said.

“Well, you’re just going to have to go and get some from somewhere, then.”

“I can’t.”

Jonathan looked at him angrily. “Why not?”

“I haven’t got any money,” Tommy said, checking his pockets, although he knew that it was pointless: they had no money in them.

“Go home and either get some batteries, or get some money so we can buy some new ones.” Jonathan was defiant. Tommy had messed up their project; he could sort it out.

“But I can’t go home; what if Mum sees me? She’ll kill us if she finds out that we’re bunking off.” Tommy knew he shouldn’t have listened to Jonathan this morning when he had persuaded him to skip school. They should have both come down here at the weekend as they had organised, instead of leaving it to the last minute. It had been Jonathan who had suggested that they skip their first lesson to test their boat out, and Tommy had gone along with it. Jonathan had said that they wouldn’t even be skiving off, as technically they were doing their school work. Tommy hadn’t been too sure at first, as he didn’t want to get into any trouble, but Jonathan had been so insistent and so Tommy eventually, instead of saying no, had done what he always did and just gone along with him.

Now Jonathan was looking furious, and the project had turned into a disaster. Tommy knew that Jonathan wouldn’t let it go; he was so obstinate when he got an idea into his head.

Jonathan was thinking about what Tommy had said. He didn’t fancy getting caught bunking off school either. Tommy was right, their mum would go nuts and probably ground them. She might even take his camera away, and he couldn’t risk that. Tommy was right; neither of them could go home just yet.

“Okay, then, there’s only one thing for it. You're going to have to get in there and fetch our boat.” Jonathan nodded towards the water.

“Why me, Jonathan?” Tommy whined. Just when he had thought the morning couldn’t get worse Jonathan was going to force him get into the water, which had a film of slime covering the surface in places. It was also freezing, and the thought of having to take his clothes off and get into the river was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I’m not getting in there because I can’t swim! Besides, this is your fault. You were supposed to bring the batteries and you forgot them. It’s only fair that you get in there and bring our boat back.”

Tommy gulped. He may have got away with not having to go home but there was no way Jonathan was just going to leave the boat out there.

“What if we wait till three o’clock? I can go home then... pretend I’ve been at school,” Tommy suggested, beginning to panic.

“Three o’clock is hours away. And what if someone comes, huh? Then we’ll have to leave the boat in the water. I’m not going to risk it. Besides, look at it, it’s going to sink if we leave it. Either you go home and face Mum, or you have to get in there.” He wanted the boat back, and Tommy had to be the one to get it. Jonathan sat on the path, next to the camcorder, and waited.

Knowing that it was pointless arguing, and remembering that at least he had a towel packed in his PE bag, Tommy reluctantly started to undress. He laid his purple school blazer down on top of his sports bag and shivered; he dreaded to think about the temperature of the river if it was this cold just standing on the bank.

The marshes were silent this morning, and as Tommy looked around he was grateful that there no-one could see him taking off his clothes. This side of the River Lea was lined with trees and even though their leaves had started to fall, there was just enough coverage for him to remain reasonably undetected by any people who might be inside the houses on the opposite bank. Jonathan had said earlier that if any nosey parkers asked them what they were doing there, he would just say that the school had given them permission to test out their boat. They were both wearing their uniforms under their big black puffer jackets and had their science books with them.

Jonathan took out a packet of Marlboro Menthol cigarettes, which he had stolen from the newsagents that morning whilst the shopkeeper was distracted, from his trousers pocket. He lit it up as a pasty-looking Tommy stood beside him, now wearing just a pair of white boxer shorts, a matching vest and a look of dread.

“Go on then.” Jonathan nodded towards the river as he inhaled the minty smoke. He screwed his nose up: he didn’t enjoy smoking, he just did it for effect. He loved the thrill of knowing that he might get caught, another thing that would piss his mum off; that alone had been a good enough reason as any to start as far as he was concerned.

Tommy watched his brother blow out a thin grey stream of smoke. He had hoped Jonathan would relent, that any minute now he would laugh at Tommy standing there like a twat, shivering in his underwear, and say that he could leave the boat where it was. It was, after all, November, and looking at the water made him feel the cold right down to his bones.

But Jonathan just sat there, staring back at him as he smoked, waiting.

Tommy dipped his toe into the water. He swiftly took it back out again as a chill blasted up his spine.

“I don’t think I...” Tommy protested, before he was pushed in. His body slapped the dirty water.

“What did you do that for?” he shouted at Jonathan, as he fought to tread water.

The sight of Tommy’s quivering lips and chattering teeth was too much for Jonathan. He laughed so hard he thought he would wet himself.

“I was doing you a favour: you looked like you needed a nudge in the right direction. Go on then, get our boat.”

Coughing and spluttering as he spat out a mouthful of water, Tommy was annoyed. Jonathan knew it was freezing cold in the river. However, he was here now, he may as well get the bloody thing. Swimming towards the boat, Tommy dreaded to think what was on the riverbed. Trying to block out the images that he had seen on the News a while back, about chopped-up torsos in suitcases in the Thames, Tommy swam quickly, the iciness of the water stinging his limbs.

Jonathan watched from the bank, impressed at how slick Tommy looked as he glided through the water. Jonathan had refused to take swimming lessons as a younger child: the more their mum had insisted, the more he had dug his heels in and said no. Tommy excelled at it and had won numerous badges, coming first in most of the competitions he entered.

Tommy held the boat above the water with one hand, like a trophy; all that fuss he had made about getting it and it had taken him only seconds to reach it.

When he saw Tommy’s head dip beneath the water’s surface, Jonathan thought his brother was winding him up. “What are you doing? Stop messing about!”

Tommy emerged, waving his hands in the air, signalling that he was in trouble. Jonathan didn't believe it: his brother was such a good swimmer; he couldn’t need help.

But watching as his brother’s head dipped back under the water, Jonathan began to feel unsure. Tommy hadn’t surfaced for about thirty seconds.

“Tommy, what’s happening?” Jonathan shouted, as his brother’s head broke through the water’s surface.

“Help, Jonathan! I’ve got cramp,” Tommy screamed, expelling the little air that he had left in his lungs in his panic, before he went under for the third time.

Jonathan still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t Tommy’s way of getting him back for pushing him in the water, but he still hadn’t come back up after a few seconds and it wasn’t like him to be a practical joker.

Seeing only bubbles on the surface of the river, Jonathan realised that Tommy might be in danger. Maybe he hadn’t been winding him up.

“Tommy?” Jonathan yelled, feeling helpless. He wouldn’t be able to reach Tommy even if he tried. He would only put himself in danger too. Desperate, Jonathan looked around to see if there was anyone nearby. “Help me, someone; help me, please.”

No-one came. Jonathan looked into the middle of the river again. There was no sign of his brother.

Tommy had gone.

Chapter Five

There was a sharp pain in Tommy’s leg. Then, he felt like he was being weighted down. His calf throbbed, making his whole leg seize up and stop working. Panic set in.

Thrashing about under the water’s surface, Tommy desperately tried to swim back up. The water was dark and murky, just as he’d imagined it would be, and he had never been so scared in his life. In amongst his panicked thoughts was a feeling of disbelief that this was happening to him. He was a good swimmer. He remembered the coach informing the class about muscle spasms but Tommy had only vaguely paid attention, not really believing that the advice would ever apply to him. He remembered the two main instructions that she had taught them: keep calm; try not to panic. But that was easier said than done, he thought now, as he frantically clawed his hands through the water. He was running out of air. His natural instinct was to try and breathe but every time he attempted to he gulped down big mouthfuls of water that choked him.

He began to feel weak and disorientated. Tommy fought to remain conscious, knowing he was starting to lose the battle: sinking in the water, his body gave in.

Hands seized his waist.

Feeling immense relief sweep over him, he realised that someone was rescuing him. Was it Jonathan?

Tommy tried to turn in the water so that he could cling to the figure, the thought of being saved and the panic of wanting to breathe fuelling his newfound strength. He didn’t mean to, but in his desperation his hands grabbed at the arms that gripped him, causing him to drag his saviour down deeper into the water with him; clawing with every touch he fought with every last ounce of his strength to push himself up.

The hands around his waist spun him around in the water; bringing them face to face.

Tommy thought that he was hallucinating. Through the darkness of the water he could see the face of a pretty girl with long red hair; she looked how he imagined an angel to be. As he stared into her green eyes and saw the look of determination on her face, he knew that he could trust her. She was helping him. He was going to be okay.

That split second was all she needed. Quickly taking her opportunity she grabbed the boy under his armpit, sliding her arm around the back of his head to support his neck and hauling him up to the water’s surface with all the strength she could muster. She grasped him firmly as she kicked her legs as hard as she could so that she could make it back to the bank. She had no time to check how the boy was, nor even if he was still breathing. The CPR training she had done with St John Ambulance a few years before, a compulsory Girl Guides course, had bored her silly at the time but now those few hours of mind-numbing boredom were paying off; she just prayed that she could remember what to do. First things first, she knew that she needed to get him out of the icy water and quickly.

Pushing herself up against the grass verge, she shouted at the boy who stood on the bank looking at her with the weird expression on his face whilst she panted for breath.

“Are you going to help or what?”

Holding the other boy afloat, she watched as the boy on the grass stepped forward. He grabbed the boy who had been in the water by the arm, dragging him up onto the verge. The girl hoisted herself out of the river, her clothes stuck to her body.

The boy was sprawled out on the grass, his lips blue. The girl ignored the waves of exhaustion that washed over her as she tilted his head back, before pinching his nose between her thumb and forefinger and gently placing her lips over his. She slowly breathed into his mouth as she watched for movement in his chest just as she had been taught. She wished that she had paid more attention to the course leader now. The boy she had dragged out of the water seemed to be in a bad way, and the responsibility that she now felt to save him was overwhelming. Suddenly, he coughed and inhaled long gulps of air into his lungs and then, turning onto his side, he threw up all over the grass.

Worn out and shivering, the girl flopped onto the grass, relief sweeping over her and making her feel suddenly very tearful.

She had saved him. She had actually saved him.

Then she remembered. Turning to the other boy who was standing next to her in silence, clutching his camcorder, she shot him a look of contempt.

“What sort of a sicko just stands there and films someone who’s drowning?”