Saving Silence (21 page)

They’re invincible, I realized. Nothing can touch them. Josh and Dale can do what they want. Worse, they know it.

TUESDAY 10 DECEMBER

Mum said something that surprised me when we got home. I’d asked her if she thought the McAllister twins would ever change. Perfectly calmly she said, ‘I believe
there’s hope for most of us, but I also believe that some people are just evil. They will continue to wreck lives for as long as they have the freedom to do so because they’ve become
inhuman.’

I watched her put the kettle on. It felt I’d spent a lot of time with her in our tiny kitchen recently. Dad knew what was going on too and had drifted in and out of our discussions, but he
didn’t seem to grasp the full implications of what was going on as well as Mum did.

‘I don’t suppose you’ll want me to come to court with you too,’ he’d said a few days earlier. ‘I can be there, but I’m not sure I’ll be very
helpful.’

Thanks for the half-hearted offer, I thought. I told Dad not to bother. He didn’t look surprised.

Mum hadn’t complained about the time she’d taken out of work, though she must have resented it. Perhaps she was trying to make up for not being there for me. Perhaps she’d been
shaken to discover how little trust there was between us.

A little later a police officer visited us. Dad and Benno were home by then. Benno joined us without being asked, and that made me feel sad. My kid brother knew that this
involved him now.

‘Where’s Dad?’ I asked.

‘Upstairs. We can fill him in later,’ Mum said, as though Dad wasn’t important.

‘Oh, so he’s not part of this family? What is he then? Some dude who just happens to live with us?’

Mum shot me a disapproving look, nodding her head at the police officer. Suddenly we were back to old Mum, the parent who cared so much about appearances.

As it turned out, all the police could do was provide a special number for us to call if we suspected we might be in danger. As Angie had warned, the officer wasn’t really in a position to
admit that there might be a revenge attack.

Can’t admit that the youth court got it wrong even though everyone with half a brain knows the score, I thought scornfully. My mood was rapidly turning from bad to worse. All the officer
would say was that the McAllisters were among a number of young people the police kept a close eye on.

‘Where were those “close eyes” when they tried to run Sam down and when they beat me up?’ I said when the officer had gone. ‘Never mind when they were robbing the
shops.’

Mum shrugged. ‘They know as well as we do that those two did it. But without enough evidence they couldn’t prove anything. They’ll want to get something else on them as soon as
possible.’

Benno was hunched opposite the couch on his beanbag. Before the meeting he’d looked serious and curious. Now he looked plain scared. Feeling sorry for him, I made him shove up so I could
sit next to him.

‘Sorry, soldier,’ I said, slinging an arm round his shoulder.

‘They’re worse than school bullies, right?’ Benno muttered.

I grimaced. ‘’Fraid so.’

‘We should decide on precautions,’ said Mum. ‘I know it’s a pain, but we’ve got to be smart about this. Particularly you, Immy.’

I felt anger boil inside but I knew she was right. Reluctantly, I said, ‘I’ll keep to public areas when I’m out, even when it means going a longer way round. And I’ll
avoid streets and estates we know are dodgeville.’

‘Parks too,’ Mum said. ‘It’s so easy for someone to hide in the bushes. When you run I’d be much happier if you stuck to open spaces like the green, and went in
daylight.’

That would mean I’d have to do my running immediately after sixth form. If only it was summer, when the light lasted longer.

‘Should Imogen be going out at all?’ a voice from the doorway asked.

‘So nice of you to join us, Dad,’ I said, laying on the sarcasm thickly. ‘I was beginning to think you didn’t care. For your information, I am not becoming a hermit
because of this. I need a life. OK?’

Dad gave a pathetic sort of shrug. I rolled my eyes.

Rather sharply Mum said, ‘Don’t take it out on your dad. It’s not
his
fault we’re in this situation.’

The words stung. Up until this point, Mum had been acting so cool. I’d begun to remember the things I liked about her. ‘Don’t push guilt at me! I just think Dad ought to have
been here earlier.’

‘Rather rich coming from the girl who wouldn’t tell her parents she was being threatened. You didn’t want us involved then.’

The sarcasm in Mum’s voice reminded me of myself. I pressed my lips together and looked away.

‘Nothing to say?’ Mum demanded.

‘There’s nothing
to
say!’

‘Imogen, come on. There’s something you’re not telling us. I haven’t pushed you until now, but this is everyone’s safety on the line, and there can’t be
secrets. Not now.’

I got to my feet. But when I reached the door and saw that Dad was still hovering there like a guest in his own house it suddenly seemed so unfair.

‘How about you tell me something,’ I heard myself say coldly. ‘Why did Dad go away for those months when we lived in Kent? Why did the police come to our house?’

For a second the shock on Mum’s face was almost satisfying. When I glanced at Dad my satisfaction died. He was staring miserably at the floor.

‘That’s not something anyone wants to talk about,’ Mum said quietly. ‘We’ve all moved on.’

‘What about me? What if I want to talk about it? We were a normal family until that happened! And let me tell you, we’re not normal now. Know why I didn’t tell anyone I was
being threatened? They said they’d hurt Benno. And I knew I had to look after him because there’s a fat chance anyone else here will!’

The colour fell from Mum’s face. ‘That isn’t fair! We love you. We work night and day to provide for you—’

‘Yeah, and that’s the problem. You’re never around. And you wonder why I didn’t trust you enough to tell you everything!’

Mum was staring at me as though I was a stranger. I tried to push past Dad, but he placed a hand on my shoulder. With a pained look on his face he said, ‘I love you, Immy. Do you know
that?’

That threw me. I backed away. It was starting to feel as if I was a ball in a pinball machine, being bounced from one point to another.

‘I don’t know what we’ve become as a family.’ I was horrified to hear that my voice sounded cracked. ‘But I don’t like it. I don’t want this for Benno.
I don’t want him to grow up feeling as alone as I did.’

I wasn’t making sense. Everything I’d bottled up was a jumble. It felt like I was naked all of a sudden. Mum said something to Benno about going upstairs. I shook my head.

‘No. If there’s anything you’re going to explain, he needs to hear it too.’

Benno glanced between the three of us, as though he didn’t know whose side to be on. Dad slowly closed the door and leaned against it. For a long moment the only sound in the room was the
tick of the clock. Then, sounding defeated, Mum held up her hands.

‘It’s your call, Andrew.’

Dad placed a hand to his forehead. In a flat voice he said, ‘I’d like to talk to Immy alone, if you don’t mind, Benno. I have some explaining to do.’

TUESDAY 10 DECEMBER

The afternoon passed aimlessly. Dad calmed down and apologized if he’d embarrassed me at the hearing.

‘I’m just so mad, Sam,’ he said. ‘I believe in people getting their just desserts. I’m furious you’ve got to go through this. Being a teenager can be hell
enough without this crap.’

‘You’re not upset I’ve landed you in this?’

‘You have to ask again?’ Dad smiled tightly. ‘Of course not, Sam. I’m your dad. Look, let’s do something to take our minds of this. Would you like a sneak peek of
some of the TV scripts we’re developing at work?’

Normally I’d be up for this kind of thing, but I just wasn’t in the mood. Dad looked a little crestfallen when I said no. I tried to pass the time by getting some homework done, but
my mind wasn’t on it. At about six I gave up and opened the fridge. Perhaps I’d make something fiddly like lasagne. It always took ages, what with the different layers, and by the time
it was made, eaten and cleared up it might be late enough to crawl into bed.

Jessie whined. With a start I realized that I’d totally forgotten her afternoon walk.

‘Sorry, girl,’ I muttered, patting her head and opening the back door to let her out. ‘I’ll give you a long one tomorrow to make up for it. Today’s been a bit of a
write-off.’

Jessie bounded out into the darkness and I left the door ajar and returned to the kitchen. Perhaps my
MasterChef
cookbook would give me a bit of guidance – it was on the counter
from yesterday. Sure enough, I found a decent-looking recipe. I’d got out all the ingredients and had onion and garlic frying before I realized that Jessie hadn’t come back in.

‘Jessie?’ I called. There was no response. A shiver of anxiety crept over me as I turned off the hob and put the pan to one side.

Jessie wasn’t a disobedient dog. When I called her, she usually came running. She also wasn’t a dog that lingered outside for long in wintertime. She wasn’t a fan of the cold
and the wet.

What if it was the McAllisters . . . I forced myself to stop following that train of thought and to try to be rational. Why would they come here, now, straight off the back of getting off? I
called Jessie again. Then whistled.

Nothing.

This time I couldn’t stop the anxious thoughts flying through my head. They knew I loved my dog. They’d threatened to cut her up before . . . What if they’d actually done
it?

I burst out of the back door and raced down the steps into the garden, squinting into the night as I left the warmth of the kitchen behind me.

I tried calling for a third time.

Silence.

The last thing I wanted was to search the pitch-dark garden. Surely if they’d hurt her I’d have heard something, I told myself. A howl or a yelp. She’s probably found a hole in
the fence and is having a whale of a time in next door’s garden.

A soft crunching noise from the darkness ahead startled me, like two pairs of feet trying to move silently over gravel. Suddenly terrified that the twins were going to jump out at me, I stumbled
back into the house and locked the door. As I pulled the blinds shut, there was a heavy crash right outside the window.

I jumped back and ducked down behind the central kitchen counter. Go away, go away, go away, I thought, scrunching my eyes shut. What I ought to be doing was calling the police, said the
rational part of my brain. But I couldn’t make myself
move
. I was frozen, a useless bundle of nerves.

Any second now I was convinced I’d hear the shattering of glass and Josh and Dale would be in the kitchen with me, Jessie a bloody heap on the steps outside. But the next noise I heard
wasn’t a smash. It was a bark.

I managed to get it together enough to peer around the edge of the counter.

Through cracks in the blinds I could make out Jessie’s silhouette. Swearing at my own stupidity, I pulled myself together and lurched over to let her in – my legs shaking so badly I
could barely walk. Peering out of the back door I realized that one of the big flowerpots on the steps was on its side, in pieces. Jessie must’ve knocked it over. So much for the McAllisters
breaking in!

Even though I knew it was just my mind playing tricks on me, it took me a long time to feel steady enough to get back to cooking dinner. Maybe it would be for the best if Dad did take that US
transfer. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could handle living like this.

TUESDAY 10 DECEMBER

Dad and I sat facing each other in my room, me cross-legged on the bed, him on the chair by my desk. Awkward did not begin to describe the atmosphere.

I knew he’d step around what he had to say for ages unless I was blunt. ‘So, what
really
happened in Kent, Dad?’

‘What do you remember?’ he asked softly.

Trying to sound like I didn’t care, I said, ‘Only that things were normal until the police came round wanting to speak to you and Mum. It was about something to do with the place you
both worked. That charity, run by that friend of Mum’s.’ I paused. ‘Mum shoved me and Benno off to Laura’s. We spent a lot of time there the next few days. No one said why.
When we were at home, you weren’t there. Just Mum.’ I carried on, stumbling a little. I’d blocked ten-year-old me out so efficiently it was hard to go back and even harder to put
into words. ‘No one told me what was going on, Dad. No explanation, no nothing. Mum was acting like things were normal. Cooking dinner, getting us to school, that kind of thing. On autopilot.
I was scared. And angry. Like it wasn’t important what I felt! I’d never had anything but, well, love from you two before. Then suddenly I didn’t matter any more.’

‘You mattered more than anything—’

‘Not enough for either of you to take the time to explain what the hell was going on!’ I shook my head. ‘It was OK for Benno. He was too young to know how wrong everything
felt. He noticed you’d vanished though. Mum said you needed to go away. Brilliant lie! Three months, Dad. That’s, like, years to a kid! I was starting to forget stuff, like the sound of
your voice and what you looked like. You didn’t even contact us. It was like you were dead. But then I realized there was only one place you could possibly have gone . . . prison.’

‘You thought I was in prison?’ Dad’s eyes widened.

‘It’s not such a strange conclusion, is it?’ I snapped. ‘When you came back it was like you’d had a personality transplant, and then we moved, like we were on the
run. Mum was clearly in on it too.’

‘Your mother had nothing to do with this. Let me make that very clear.’

‘All I know is, I had friends, a nice home and I liked my school. In a few months that was all gone with no explanation. It’s not easy to start again. People say it’s fine for
kids. Bullshit. It’s not like I was even a kid any more. What happened made me grow up quickly. No one was on my side any more. Not you. Not Mum. No one. I had to
be
my side
myself.’ I gave him a sarcastic smile. I knew I was making him feel bad on purpose, but right now I didn’t care.