Mindsight (35 page)

Authors: Chris Curran

BOOK: Mindsight

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I could hear Alice behind me, scrabbling in the puddle of water and broken stems, and as I turned I saw her pick up the syringe. The alarm was still shrieking, I was choking for breath, my eyes streaming from the smoke, but I managed to shout at her, ‘This is no good. Just unlock the door and let’s go.’

She stood with her back against the newel post of the staircase and as I watched I saw her raise the syringe and, as if in slow motion, plunge it into her own arm.

By the time I got to her she was sitting on one of the bottom stairs. She looked up at me with a smile then closed her eyes and lay back. The alarm stopped shrieking and in the almost silence I could hear the roar of flames close by.

I got behind her and dragged at her but, although her eyes were closed, her hand was gripped tight around one of the spindles of the staircase, and I couldn’t move her.

I crawled upstairs, lurching into the nearest bedroom – Tom’s – and slamming the door behind me. It was clearer in here and I could breathe more easily, but that wouldn’t last long. I dragged the pillows from the bed to block the gap under the door. Then ran to the windows. They were old sashes and I slid back the metal locks and tried to push one up. But it stuck fast. I tried the second. It wouldn’t move.

I pulled Tom’s little TV from its socket and hit the glass again and again. The pane cracked, but didn’t shatter. I dragged out a drawer from the bedside table. The wood broke with the first blow, but the long piece of metal from the side came free and I stabbed it into the crack and made a hole.

As I punched at the splinters of glass, headlights appeared at the gate and a car swerved onto the driveway, kicking up gravel. It was Kieran. He leapt out, his headlights still blazing, and looked up at me, his face contorted. Then he disappeared.

I kicked and jabbed the shattered glass as a ladder banged onto the window ledge and I climbed through on quivering legs. Kieran came halfway up and clutched me to him.

‘Clare, oh, Clare, thank God.’

At the bottom, we clung together, and he said, ‘Nic told me where you’d gone. Where’s Tom?’

A wail of sirens: the firemen jumping out before they came to a halt. I shouted over the clatter. ‘My sister’s in the downstairs hall. She’s hurt,’ then pressed into Kieran’s solid warmth. ‘It’s all right, Tom’s not here.’

‘What happened?’ he asked.

I couldn’t answer.

One of the firemen told us to stand back and we watched as they used some kind of battering ram on the front door. The hose unrolled and, as the water roared out, more sirens sounded from the lane and a police car and ambulance crowded through the gates, their lights flashing.

From somewhere a silver sheet appeared and Kieran helped me wrap it around my shoulders. I leaned on the bonnet of his car. It was still warm. All I could see was the front door beginning to crack.
Please, please God.
Someone passed me a wad of lint to press against my face and it was only then that I realised I was shivering, my eyes and mouth throbbing.

They carried Alice out on a stretcher, her face covered by an oxygen mask. As they lifted her into the ambulance her eyes fluttered open and I moved towards her. We shared one look before I turned away.

‘You need to come with us.’ The voice came from a vast distance: I must have dozed or maybe passed out. I was sitting sideways on the driver’s seat of Kieran’s car, my shaking legs stretched in front of me on the gravel driveway. A paramedic was tugging my arm and Kieran’s hand was on my other shoulder.

‘No, I’m all right.’

‘You can go in the ambulance with the other lady. She’ll be OK, but we need to get you both to hospital.’

I shook my head. I couldn’t go with her, couldn’t bear to see her. ‘I’m fine, but she injected herself with something; you need to check it. Take her now and my friend will drive me. I need to … ’ I looked up at Kieran.
Help me. Make them leave me alone.
Although I hadn’t said the words he seemed to understand and led the man away.

I sat watching Beldon House burn: the flames warming me and stopping my shivers. It was almost peaceful now, the sirens stilled, the banging and shouting silenced, only the soothing rush of water in the background: a fine mist of it cooling my sore face.

I leaned back.
Don’t think, don’t think, not yet, not yet.

Something cannoned into my legs and then into my arms. Tom. He buried his face in my shoulder muttering all kinds of things I could only half hear.

‘Heard the sirens, made Mark’s dad bring me.’

Mark’s dad was standing next to Kieran and gave me an awkward wave.

Tom looked at the ambulance pulling away. ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘We’re OK.’

I moved back and the flames lit up Tom’s face. They must have done the same for mine because he flinched and his hand came to his mouth. ‘You’re hurt.’ He looked towards the house, then back at me, his eyes wide.

‘Alice has gone to hospital, but they say she’ll be all right. I’m just bruised.’ My effort at a smile was so painful I felt a hot tear spill down my cheek.

I forced myself to my feet and we walked over to Mark’s dad, arms around each other. ‘Kieran’s going to take me to have my face looked at,’ I said. ‘So you try to get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Tom was clinging to me like a much younger child and I kissed his forehead.

Mark’s dad pulled him away. ‘Come on, let’s get you back to bed.’ He nodded at me. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll look after him.’

When they reached the gate I saw my son turn and stare back at the house and I threw the silver blanket aside and ran to him.

I held him tightly and said, ‘I’ll come for you as soon as I’m patched up. You can stay at the flat with me while we look for a new home. We’ll be together all the time from now on.’

Today the pale November sun is no match for the brisk wind coming off the sea and I huddle into my coat. Here on the hills above the shore it’s quiet at this time of year and, despite the cold, I prefer it this way. I wave at Tom as he runs back and forth across the wide expanse of grass, trying to get his kite to take off. His friend, Mark, is with us, and he’s already managed to launch his kite. It dips and dives, a dark bird in the chill blue sky.

I haven’t visited Alice, but her lawyer tells me she’s admitted everything and is pleading guilty. She says this is to make things easier for me and especially for Tom. I’ve had enough of anger and bitterness so I’ll try to believe her.

It became obvious right away that the fire had been set deliberately, and at first, I expected her to try and blame me. But she probably realised that Jacob Downes could identify her from the crash site. And that Emily and Matt knew she was using amphetamines at the time of the wedding. Once I’d raised suspicions about Lorna’s death, they discovered she actually died from a massive dose of insulin. Lorna’s neighbour saw Alice arrive at her house around the time she must have been killed.

There’s talk that Alice may have a personality disorder and I suppose that’s one way to explain what she did. But I remember what she told me that night and I think it started all those years ago when we were kids. It was so important to her that Mum and Dad saw her as the good girl: their own real child. The one who always behaved well – so different from me.

One thing I’ll never know is when my little sister’s love for me turned to hatred, but then I doubt she knows that herself.

I do believe she loves Tom and it’s odd because in a way I’m still grateful to her for bringing him up so well, helping to make him the kind of young man Steve would have been proud to call his son.

It’s been hard for Tom and it’s going to get harder still for a while. I’ve told him most of the truth and the way he reacted makes me wonder if he had some instinctive understanding of the situation all along. There’s been publicity, of course, and when the trial happens it could get worse. My solicitor says it should be easy enough after that to get my own conviction overturned, although that doesn’t seem very important just now.

I’m in touch with Mr Hillier and he tells me Jacob Downes made a deal with the police. Because of his help in identifying Alice, and my evidence that he probably saved my life after the crash, he won’t be charged with perjury. Mr Hillier is trying to find him work.

Beldon House is being demolished and I plan to use some of Dad’s money to help released prisoners. Nic and I have become even greater friends and she’s been helping Tom and me to look for somewhere to live. I think we may have found the cottage I always used to dream of. It’s not far from the flat, so Molly and Nic can visit all the time. Nic seems much happier these days and I can’t help smiling when I think of her.

And then of course there’s Kieran.

Even in the cold up here on the hill, a glow goes through me when he comes into my mind, although if I’m honest he’s rarely out of it these days. Tom really likes him and keeps suggesting he should live with us when we move. But Kieran agrees it’s too soon. He knows I need some time with my son: just the two of us.

I push my hands deep into my pockets and walk down towards the boys and, as his kite takes to the air, I hear Tom laughing.

Acknowledgements:

I owe grateful thanks to many people, but especially to Moira McDonnell and Bryan Taylor for cheering me on all the way.

To Allan Guthrie for great advice and support over the years. To Sheila Bugler: my constant inspiration on the journey. To Jo Reed, Claire Whatley, Karen Milner, Amanda Hodgkinson, JJ Marsh, Marlene Brown, Liza Perrat, Lorraine Mace, Tricia Gilbey, Barbara Scott Emmett, Justine Windsor, June Whitaker and all the talented folk at the Writing Asylum.

To my editor at Harper Collins, Kate Stephenson, for her wisdom and enthusiasm.

And, above all, thanks and love go to my sister, Sue Curran, and to my son, Jack Farmer.

About the Author

Chris Curran worked as an actress and scriptwriter in alternative theatre for several years. She has had short stories published in women’s magazines and she reviews fiction for various publications and blogs.
Mindsight
is her debut novel, and in 2013 an early draft of the novel was shortlisted for the Yeovil Literary Prize.