Hit and Run (16 page)

Jeanie stepped forwards, a tentative shuffle, tail flickering. She approached and nuzzled him, and he held on to her body, gripping the fur and the skin underneath too tightly.

He turned and looked at the house. All quiet, like a normal suburban home. No sign of danger. He let go of Jeanie and slowly pushed his knuckles into the gravel, trying to lever himself upright.

He drove without thinking. His hands shook on the steering wheel. He couldn’t find the gear, the retching of the engine making his teeth clench.

Jeanie hunkered in the footwell of the passenger seat, looking up at him. He patted her briefly then returned his hand to the gearstick.

The streets were empty. In a couple of weeks this place would be rammed with tourists and performers for the festival. Now it was desolate, hardly another car on the road. It was about this time of night that they’d driven home up Queen’s Drive.

The car seemed to drive itself. Right at the lights, down the slope past Pollock Halls, left at the roundabout, left again.

He was on Queen’s Drive, heading the opposite direction from that night. Thick moonlight smothered everything. The Crags on his right glistened, the gorse bleached in the light, throbbing with life.

He slowed and pulled over opposite the trees. No cars in either direction. He kept the engine running, yanked the handbrake on. Stared out at the tarmac. No sign of blood anywhere. He wondered if it had been washed away. But there had been no rain, only incessant sunshine for days. Maybe forensics cleared it away.

He opened the car door, motioned for Jeanie to stay put, and got out. Closed the door. Stood holding the handle, staring at the view. From here you could see the
Standard
offices, Dynamic Earth, the top of the parliament building. Right in the thick of things, yet the middle of nowhere.

He let go of the Micra door and walked slowly across the road. Stopped before he reached the pavement. Just stood there on the road.

As he crouched down he felt his body and brain complain at the motion, every sinew and synapse on fire. He rubbed a hand across the rough surface. Small pebbles moved underneath his fingers.

He fell on to his knees and put both hands on the tarmac. Rubbed them backwards and forwards, then began scratching with his nails at the surface, tearing at the ground until his nails were ragged and his fingertips bloody and raw. He slumped forward, so that he was on all fours, and choked on a sob as it came out, followed by more, caught breath and tears.

Dizziness overwhelmed him, then he was suddenly sick, vomit splattering on the ground between his hands, tears still coming, his ribs heaving with the force. An animal noise rose from his gut, a primitive wail of pain caught between sobs as he stayed there, struggling to breathe.

He imagined a car sweeping round the bend and smashing into him, tearing flesh from bone, smashing his skull and brains and spraying them across the road. Leaving nothing behind, just an almighty mess.

There was a scratching sound. Jeanie’s claws on the inside of the car window. He looked up and outward. No cars coming, no signs of life. He spat on to the road surface and wiped his mouth and eyes. Tasted the salt of tears and something else. Blood. A thin trail of snot and blood was running from his nose. He wiped it away with his sleeve.

He struggled to his feet like a wounded dog and staggered back to the car. There was a jolt down his arm as he pulled at the door handle. Jeanie darted across to her seat as he slid in next to her. He yanked the door closed and stared out the window at nothing.

The engine was still running. He imagined exhaust fumes filling the car. He stared at the crack on the windscreen. He would fix it. He would fix everything.

The car stuttered into life as he put it in gear and pulled away.

*

He parked outside the flat and switched the engine off. Jeanie recognised where they were and began fussing to get out. He reached over and opened the passenger door and she tumbled out in a mess of legs and fur, springing across the pavement to the tiny garden.

He sat in the car and wiped blood from his nose. It hadn’t stopped. Still just a trickle, though. He went into his pocket and pulled out the picture of him, Charlie and Mum, rubbed a thumb over his mum’s face, then his own. Then Charlie’s. The memories wearing away. He raked through the pills in his pocket. Took two uppers and two painkillers.

He pushed open his door then jumped as a passing taxi fired its horn, swerving to miss the outswinging door. An angry voice shouted at him, then the taxi pulled away.

His pulse hammered against his skull as he eased himself out the car and locked it.

Jeanie was sniffling along the wall as he opened the front door of the flat and went inside.

The sound of a television.

In the living room, Charlie and Zoe were both asleep. Charlie was sitting up, empty beer bottle in his hand. Zoe was lying across him, head in his lap, thin blanket over her. Charlie’s other hand was resting on Zoe’s hair. They were both peaceful.

He lifted the remote and switched the television off.

Charlie stirred. He dropped the bottle with a quiet clunk on the carpet, then jumped at the noise. His eyes sprung open and he saw Billy standing over him.

‘Billy, fuck. Where were you?’

Billy tried to remember. ‘I had a story to cover.’

Charlie snatched his hand away from Zoe’s hair as if he’d had an electric shock then began shaking her, pushing her off his lap.

‘Zoe, Billy’s home.’

She took a moment to shake the sleep, then threw off the blanket and stood up.

Billy shied away from her.

‘You need to get to hospital,’ she said. ‘Please, Billy.’

‘Holy shit,’ Charlie said. ‘Is your nose bleeding?’

Billy took a step backwards.

Charlie got up and reached towards him. ‘Let me see.’

Billy moved away, shaking his head and wiping blood on his sleeve. It seemed like more was dripping out now, he kept catching a taste of it on his lips. He touched the back of his head, but the bandages seemed dry over the hole.

‘The Mackies have kidnapped the Whitehouse kid,’ he said. ‘Dean Whitehouse torched the Mackies’ home, so they kidnapped his nephew.’

‘That has nothing to do with you,’ Charlie said.

‘How can you say that?’ Billy felt like screaming. He clenched his hands into fists, feeling the raw skin pulsate with pain. He tasted more blood, wiped at his nose.

‘I’m calling an ambulance,’ Zoe said.

‘Don’t.’

‘You could die.’

‘So?’

Zoe looked at him pointedly. ‘I don’t want you to die.’ She pulled out her mobile and dialled 999. ‘Ambulance, please.’

‘I won’t get in it.’

‘You will,’ Charlie said.

Zoe was on the phone. ‘Yes, my friend has had a head injury . . . No, he’s conscious, but bleeding . . .’

Friend. Billy liked that. Not boyfriend. Or love of my life. It was friend now.

He felt his nails digging into the palms of his hands.

Zoe was struggling on the phone.

‘. . . no, we don’t know how he injured his head . . . you don’t understand, he was in hospital already . . .’

Charlie grabbed the phone from her.

‘His name is Billy Blackmore. He was admitted to ERI yesterday after suffering a cranial aneurysm, and he underwent an emergency decompressive craniotomy, then stupidly walked out of the ward when he woke up. We think he’s suffering a relapse.’ He waited a moment. ‘15 Rankeillor Street. Thank you.’

He handed the phone back to Zoe and spoke to Billy.

‘Now sit the fuck down and don’t do anything that’ll kill you.’

‘It’s too late for that.’

‘Don’t be such a drama queen.’

‘Come on,’ Zoe said, ‘please sit down.’

‘I’ll stand.’

Billy imagined them all pointing guns at each other.

‘I know about you two,’ he said.

They stole glances at each other and Zoe looked down.

‘What about us?’ Charlie said, faking bluster.

Billy tilted his head, felt his brain lurch.

‘Don’t treat me like an idiot. I saw you together in bed.’

‘That was a mistake,’ Zoe said. ‘I’d just found out about you and Adele. I was confused and hurt, and Charlie . . .’

‘And Charlie was there to take advantage.’

Zoe shook her head. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘Yeah, fuck you, Bro,’ Charlie said with a snarl. ‘At least I was here for her. Where the hell have you been since all this started? Screwing the widow, that’s where. Which, by the way, is some seriously fucked-up shit, considering what you did to her husband.’

‘What I did?’ Billy said. ‘I thought we were all in this together, wasn’t that the line? All for one and one for all? Looking out for each other?’

‘We are looking out for each other . . .’ Zoe said.

‘Don’t give me that shit. It’s always been you pair trying to stop me from landing you in it.’

‘Billy . . .’

‘It’s fine. It’s good that you’re screwing each other, at least now it’s all out in the open. You two have each other and I’m surplus to requirements, right? Only it’s not quite that easy, because I’m finally going to come clean about it all.’

‘That’s a bad idea,’ Charlie said.

‘Why? Because you’ll get struck off for stealing drugs from the hospital?’

‘You’ll go to prison,’ Zoe said.

Billy stared at her. ‘I dare say those posh twats you work with won’t look kindly on you fleeing a murder scene in which your boyfriend was driving, everyone loaded off their faces.’

Charlie took a step towards him, and he backed away. Jeanie picked up on the atmosphere and came to cower behind Billy’s legs, making him stumble.

Charlie held out a placating hand. ‘You need to sit down and cool off until the ambulance gets here, Bro.’

Billy shook his head and took another step backwards. He was edging towards the door, Jeanie shuffling behind him.

‘I really don’t. What I need to do is go and make everything right, put an end to all this.’

Zoe was rooted to the spot. ‘Charlie, don’t.’

Charlie didn’t look at her, kept his eyes on Billy.

‘I can’t let you walk out of here and ruin your life,’ he said. ‘Or end your life. Anything physically or emotionally stressful could cause another aneurysm, a fatal one this time.’

Billy felt a smile curl his lips. ‘So you can’t stop me, otherwise you’re risking my life.’

‘Don’t test me.’

Zoe sounded frantic. ‘Charlie, Billy, stop it, please.’

‘Listen to her, Bro,’ Charlie said. ‘Stop right there.’

‘You listen to her, she’s your girlfriend now.’

Billy was almost at the doorway of the room. He heard his blood singing in his veins, screaming to get out. He felt Jeanie’s soft body still behind him, her presence comforting.

‘Where are you going to go?’ Charlie said.

‘There’s a police station at the end of the road, how about that for starters?’

‘How do you think Mum would’ve felt, her golden boy in prison?’

Billy laughed. ‘You were always her golden boy, Charlie.’

Charlie shook his head. ‘Either way, you’re going to get convicted, I’m going to get struck off. Some Blackmore legacy, eh?’

‘If that’s the way it has to be.’

‘It doesn’t.’

Billy stopped just past the door frame, standing in the hall. Jeanie scuttled to the front door, looking back anxiously and whining. Billy started walking backwards towards the door. Charlie and Zoe followed him into the hall.

‘Billy,’ Zoe said.

‘There’s nothing you can say, either of you, I’ve made up my mind. A boy’s life is in danger because of me. I have to make it right.’

Billy was almost at the front door.

‘I can’t let you leave, Bro,’ Charlie said.

‘Then you’ll have to stop me.’

He lunged for the door and flung it open, Jeanie slithering sideways out of his way as he tried to move his legs.

A clatter from behind knocked him to the ground and pushed the air out of his lungs. He felt the familiar weight of his brother on top of him, a lifetime of being smothered and crushed. He sensed the warmth of Charlie’s breath on his neck. He jerked his head backwards, wincing as his skull connected with Charlie’s face. Blinding pain in his head, his brain screaming. He heard Charlie gasp and felt his hold loosening. He pushed himself up on to his hands and knees violently and felt Charlie swing off him, heard a thud on the floor, but before he could turn a fist hit him on the side of the head where the lump was, more pain, a flash in his vision, then another punch to his liver doubled him over and Charlie was on top of him, sitting astride, blood and snot dripping from his nose on to Billy’s face, making him spit it away.

Charlie was holding his arms, pinning them to the floor.

‘You fucking cunt. After everything I’ve done for you.’

‘Fuck you.’

Charlie backhanded him, a soft warning not intended to hurt, but everything hurt now for Billy. Breathing, thinking, being alive, it was one long stretch of agony.

There was a growl, a feral, guttural rumble from Billy’s right. He and Charlie both turned to see Jeanie launch herself and sink her teeth into Charlie’s upper arm.

Charlie screamed and removed his hands from Billy’s arms, trying to grab Jeanie’s jaws and separate them, shaking his arm to get her off.

Billy threw his fists, connecting first with Charlie’s ear then with his chest. His brother made a sound like a balloon deflating and sank back. Billy pushed himself out from underneath, Jeanie still snarling and holding on to Charlie’s arm.

Billy caught a glimpse of Zoe standing in the hall a few feet away, tears in her eyes, a distraught look on her face. He scrambled upright, took a swing and landed a foot in Charlie’s stomach, doubling him over, Jeanie pulling at his sleeve as he crumpled.

Billy caught Zoe’s eye. He stared at her for a second, waiting for something, but nothing came.

He stepped over Charlie’s prostrate body.

‘Come on, girl.’ He pulled Jeanie away from Charlie. There was slobber all over Charlie’s T-shirt, the material ripped, a trickle of blood running down his arm.