Saving Silence (16 page)

I’d never seen him this wound up. A little afraid of Ollie for the first time ever, I shuffled backwards. Then Maria Paula opened the door.

‘Work is calling,’ she said in a breezy tone that told me she’d overheard at least some of what we’d been saying. She stood on tiptoes and gave Ollie a hug. ‘You
hope the school fixes the boiler for tomorrow, Osvaldo. Else I’ve lots of nice household things you can be busy with.’

I tuned Maria Paula out. Another lie. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Luckily the doorbell shrilled. Maria Paula went to answer it.

‘What’s going on?’ I demanded.

Ollie stared at me. Slowly he said, ‘He really didn’t tell you . . . show you . . . anything? You don’t know?’

‘Ollie, can you start talking to me in a language I understand!’

From the hallway I heard the front door click. Maria Paula started to say hello – then stopped. A male voice said, ‘Are you Maria Paula Moreno? Is your son Osvaldo here?’

‘Yes. What’s happened?’

‘Can we come in please, madam?’

There was a shuffling and the sound of footsteps. I glanced at Ollie. From the look on his face I knew immediately that something terrible was about to happen.

Maria Paula came through. Behind her were two uniformed police officers. They looked like twins, both strapping guys with very short hair. Neither was smiling. But Maria Paula was, in a
fluttery, hopeful kind of way.

‘You are here about the fight my son broke up perhaps?’ she said, a bit too brightly. ‘I’m not sure there is too much we can tell you.’

‘I’m afraid that’s not the reason for our visit, Ms Moreno,’ one officer said.

‘Is it a burglary on the estate? Always someone has their flat broken into.’

The other man stepped forward. ‘Ms Moreno, I’m sorry to inform you that we’re here because of your son.’ He cleared his throat and turned to Ollie. ‘Osvaldo Moreno,
I am arresting you on suspicion of participating in the murder of Hamdi Gul. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you
later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?’

I blanked out. I was vaguely aware that the officer was running through what would happen down at the station, and the other standard spiel. Ollie had gone very pale. He made no effort to argue,
or run. He didn’t make any effort to do
anything
.

Maria Paula went to Ollie and grasped his hand, squeezing it hard. She was shaking her head violently. ‘This is a mistake!’ she cried. ‘My son would never be involved in
violence. Never! You have the wrong boy. This is a horrible mistake and I want you to leave, now!’

‘Ms Moreno, you’ll need to accompany your son to the station. We can’t talk to him without an adult present. If you’d like a solicitor, we can supply one.’

‘I don’t need to accompany him. He
isn’t
going.’ Maria Paula looked at Ollie, her face pathetically hopeful. ‘Osvaldo. Swear to me this is wrong. I know you
didn’t do anything. You’re a good boy.’

Ollie swallowed. His eyes flickered to me, but it was his mum he looked at as he whispered, ‘Sorry.’

MONDAY 18 NOVEMBER

I felt peculiarly calm as I left Nadina’s. I noticed far more of what was around me than usual – the smell of frying, the different languages spoken by people I
passed, the bluish grey of the clouds. Maybe that was what happened when you finally decided to face the world.

I walked straight into the police station, took out a memory stick from my pocket and laid it on the counter where the officer on reception duty was sitting. I cleared my throat.

‘There’s something on here you need to see.’

Explaining everything to the police wasn’t as straightforward as I expected. For starters, they wouldn’t speak to me without calling Tamsin. She sort of deserved to
hear this from me, not in the police station, I thought, feeling bad that I hadn’t even rung to let her know I was back. I felt even worse when she started to cry the moment she came through
the doors.

‘Where were you?’ she cried. ‘I was worried! I was this close to reporting you missing!’

‘Didn’t think you’d really care.’ Yet again I wished that I’d thought things through, but I hadn’t, and as Imogen might say, I had to deal with that now.

When Tamsin had calmed down we were invited into an interview room. It was cold and dimly lit, with uncomfortable plastic chairs either side of a table that wobbled. I could tell from the
expressions of the two officers waiting for us that they were taking this very seriously. Not a surprise, considering what was on the memory stick.

‘
So there’s just the one copy? You’ve not backed it up anywhere?
’ the guy with the gravelly voice had said on the phone. He’d sounded amused. Thinking what a
loser I was, no doubt. And believing me when I said I hadn’t.

The joke’s on you, I thought, and I almost felt good. Of
course
I’d backed the video up. I might have been terrified, but I wasn’t stupid. Speaking to Nadina had finally
persuaded me to do what I was doing now. I couldn’t carry on living my life in fear. Hamdi was dead, but I could at least see that he got some justice. I knew it was dangerous to accuse
people, but I’d been overlooking the fact that I had hard evidence in the video. This was the best chance anyone was ever going to get to see that these thugs got what they deserved. The
police wanted to know everything. They remained poker-faced when I described how I’d filmed the attack, but I did wonder how much they judged me for hiding when a man was being pummelled to
death just metres away, especially as I’d stayed long enough to film most of it.

I also filled them in on what had happened since. This meant I had no choice but to bring Imogen into it. Sorry, I thought. I hope you can understand why it has to be this way.

‘Thanks, Sam,’ one officer said when I was done. ‘I know it takes guts to speak up. This is very valuable evidence. It would have been more valuable still had you come to us
earlier. There was another attack on a shop on Saturday night and we believe it’s the same group responsible. If you’d spoken up, we might have been able to prevent that
incident.’

I squirmed. ‘I know that now. Sorry.’

‘However,’ the other officer flashed me a smile, ‘thanks to this footage, we should be able to crack this. Just to double check – you say you can definitely identify one
of the three young men you filmed in the shop.’

‘Yes. I wasn’t sure at first, but I recognized his scarf and a bangle, and his body language, and then I knew.’ I drew a breath. ‘You see, I go to school with him. His
name’s Ollie Moreno.’

As Tamsin drove home – and as the police set off to haul Ollie in and speak to Imogen – I wondered how different my decisions would have been if Ollie hadn’t
been involved. Somehow, when you had the power to shop someone you knew, it felt like there was more at stake, which when you thought about it was totally illogical. This was murder, whichever way
you looked at it.

Ever since what had happened at Colchester station, I’d played an unfair game with Imogen. She’d leaped to the conclusion that the gang had got to us through Ollie; that he was their
captive and we needed to save him. Whereas I’d known all along that it was just an elaborate stage piece designed to manipulate her. It wasn’t very smart – I could have blown the
act at any point by telling Imogen that Ollie was one of them. I guessed the gang had been banking on me being scared enough to keep my mouth shut.

Well, it was out now. Imogen would discover through the police rather than me what her boyfriend had done. I felt strangely deflated about that. All the times I’d got cold feet and all the
lies I’d told to hide what it really was I couldn’t say – bad decisions at every turn. I still wasn’t even sure why I’d felt quite so awful about breaking the news to
her. In a weird way, I supposed it was as simple as this: I liked Imogen and hadn’t wanted her to hate me because of what I’d seen, because of what my evidence would mean. And stupidly
I’d felt like it was my problem, something I should sort out on my own. I’d been scared and had convinced myself that shutting up was the best solution. I’d made one wrong call
after another. When I looked back now, it all seemed so stupid. I shouldn’t have been a coward. I should never have got Imogen involved. And I should have gone to the police straight
away.

Would Imogen turn against me for what I’d done? Would her heart be broken and she’d never forgive me? I hoped not. I’d watched Imogen and Ollie a lot over the past couple of
weeks, and despite what Imogen said, their relationship seemed more friendly than romantic. Maybe I’d read too many books, but I did wonder if they’d just fallen into going out. Maybe
once she got over the shock she’d be more OK without him than she thought.

Maybe I was just thinking these things because deep down I wanted there to be nothing there.

Tamsin braked sharply, jolting us both forward. I saw that we were at a red light.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I should pay more attention.’

I peered at her. Tamsin was still as pale as she’d been in the police station. She’d placed a hand on her forehead, and despite the sweater she was wearing, she was shivering.
‘Are you feeling OK?’

‘No, not really. And that horrible video hasn’t made me feel any better.’

‘Shall I make you a cup of something when we get in? I mean . . .’ I struggled for the words. ‘I have a bit of making up to do.’

I couldn’t quite bring myself to apologize. Somehow I felt as if apologizing would drag up all the bigger things I never talked about to Tamsin or Dad. Like how I felt about slotting into
their lives, and how they really felt about me being here. I wasn’t ready to go there.

‘Thanks.’ Tamsin sniffed, and I opened the glove compartment to find her a tissue. She had just enough time to blow her nose before the light changed.

My thoughts turned back to the video. Would I ever forget that sickening sequence of events? It had been just two guys who’d run into the shop to start with. My film didn’t show them
very clearly – they were dressed to rob, anonymously. They’d both gone straight to Hamdi and started threatening him. He was opening up the till when they first laid into him. Was he
not doing it quickly enough or had they just wanted to hurt someone? Their mindset was too far from my own for me to even begin to imagine.

It was at this point that Ollie had appeared. He was wearing his usual jeans and sports sweater. He’d made an effort to disguise himself by putting his scarf over his face, but I’d
got a good look at him. Perhaps Ollie hadn’t known about his friends’ plans. The others shouted at him to take the cash as they continued to beat Hamdi. Unless he’d joined in
after I’d got out, Ollie hadn’t laid a finger on Hamdi himself.

I guessed this meant that the police would be more lenient on Ollie, especially if he gave over the others’ names. Would he wind up in prison, or the teenage equivalent, because I’d
come forward? Even though I knew I couldn’t really be held to blame, I still felt uncomfortable. I mean, this was Ollie Moreno here, Mr Perfect, whom I’d never really liked because he
was cooler and better-looking than me. How narrow my world had been before this had happened.

MONDAY 18 NOVEMBER

When I got home the front door was locked. Relieved that I was alone, I collapsed on the sofa. The last thing I felt like was facing Mum. Not just because she’d still be
pissed off, but because pretty soon either she or Dad was going to need to accompany me to the police station. That’s what the officers who’d taken Ollie and Maria Paula off had said.
They seemed to know I was involved. There was only one person I could think of who would have been able to tell them that.

This was doing my head in. I went upstairs to change into my trackies and trainers. Soon I was outside again and running to the park, hoping that crisp air and the feeling of my soles bouncing
off tarmac would help me to make sense of things.

Ollie had been arrested, for God’s sake! He’d crumbled when the police had come. As though he’d been expecting it. He hadn’t said he was innocent. He hadn’t said
anything at all. Apart from ‘sorry’.

It was the way he’d looked at his mum that told me without a shadow of a doubt that there was no mistake.

My frustration mounting, I put on a burst of speed. How could Ollie do this? How could he take part in a murder? He wasn’t a killer, he wasn’t a criminal. He’d never even been
violent, for God’s sake! He was supposed to be one of the good guys!

It began to drizzle again. I looked at the grey, heavy skyline. Even in the park, I could see buildings all around me. For the first time I felt like Walthamstow was a sealed glass tank and I
was struggling to breathe.

I didn’t want to think about Ollie. Instead I thought about Sam. He’d known about Ollie all along. That must have been what he’d shied away from telling me. Maybe he wanted to
get me on his side in some weird way, before he went to the police. Right now I was too angry at him for letting me go through the stress of yesterday to begin to try to work out what might have
gone on in his head. Why hadn’t he just told me the truth? Who had he been trying to protect? Himself, or me?

When I reached home the lights were on. I unlocked the door and went through to the kitchen. Mum was sitting at the table with a coffee, on the phone. When she saw me she
covered the receiver.

‘Stay right there. Sorry, Immy just came in. Yes, just rearrange my 4 p.m. appointment. Thanks, Sandra. Bye.’ She placed the phone back in the receiver and gave me a look.
‘What’s going on, Imogen? And what’s happened to your glasses?’

I hadn’t expected Mum to notice I was wearing my old pair. Much bigger things passed her by, such as the fact that I clearly hadn’t gone to sixth form today. I sat down, unzipping my
tracksuit top. ‘The police have called, obviously. So you don’t need to ask me, do you?’

‘All I’ve been told is that the police want to speak to you in relation to these break-ins and the death of that poor young man. They made it clear you weren’t involved
directly.’ Mum took a sip of coffee. The tightness of her body language told me she was annoyed but she clearly wasn’t going to let rip until she’d heard me out.
‘We’re not going down to the station until you tell me everything, so you’d better start talking. I’m not angry, but I want the full story.’