ribs. We’re slapping hands like playing one potato, two potato, like we used to when she was little. And we’re laughing. Like we haven’t laughed in ages. Then I hear the screeching hiss of brakes. I look up. A truck’s headlights flash across my damp visor. I’m blinded. Katie is screaming. I try to steer the bike away. But I know it won’t do any good. We’re skidding under the truck and I hear the sound of metal crunching. Then everything goes black.
“Dad,” I gasped.
He shook his head and, ever so gently, so it didn’t even make a sound, he closed the door.
Chapter Eight
The memory was real, that much I knew. But it didn’t make sense. How could I have been riding a moped? I didn’t even know how to. And how could Katie be dead?
I started thumping my fists on the closed door, screaming for my parents. But they didn’t come. I stopped banging when I saw streaks of red against the blue. My fists were bleeding.
I slid down against the door and sat on the rough welcome mat. I wanted to stay here, maybe just die on my own doorstep. But I couldn’t give up until I understood what was going on.
Katie had been dead for nearly two weeks. The doctors had told Mum and Dad she’d died instantly. But I knew better. I’d heard her screaming while I tried to get her out of the crumpled mess of the moped. Then she’d gone quiet. And I’d lain on the wet concrete holding her cold hand. I refused to let go when the ambulance men arrived.
I hit my head against the door behind me. Katie couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t be. Because while I remembered seeing her tiny body being taken away on a stretcher, I also remembered sitting and having dinner together only yesterday. She’d been sad and I, like a coward, hadn’t wanted to talk about it. So I went out and Katie had covered for me. We’d spoken on the phone only hours ago and she promised to lie so I could go back to a girl’s house. A girl who had told me I was special.
Aubrey.
Aubrey would know what was going on. I had to find her. Only problem was I couldn’t remember where she lived. There had been a sculpture of some kind. I scrunched up my eyes, willing the image to become clearer. A statue of an elephant. Near an Underground station. I stood up, rubbed the tears from my eyes, and started running.
The row of rundown buildings was the most welcome sight I’d ever seen. I jogged past the doors, trying to pick out which flat was Aubrey’s. I saw a graffiti-covered wall and could have hugged the little ASBO who’d told the world to “Fuck of”.
My finger hovered over the line of buzzers. The scribbled names had faded under the plastic shields, but one name jumped out at me. I pushed the buzzer marked Jones and waited. I didn’t even know if she would be home.
“Hello?” a voice crackled through the intercom.
Hearing her voice was like walking into a warm room. “Aubrey. Aubrey thank God! It’s me, Scott.”
“Who?” Aubrey said.
“Scott. Please let me in. I don’t know what the hell is going on.”
“I don’t know who you are. Push off will you?”
I knew I had just seconds to prove that she knew me. Seconds before she hung up the intercom and walked away. I felt like a man grabbing at a fraying rope. In an instant it would snap and I would fall into the abyss. I needed something to make her understand. Some kind of password.
From somewhere in the depths of my dissolving mind a word appeared.
“Swordfish!” I shouted into the grey box on the wall.
There was a pause. Then a buzz and clunk of the lock opening. I pushed at the door and walked in. The black rail of the stairwell was oddly solid, as if it was the first real thing I’d touched all day.
When I made it to the fifth floor, Aubrey was waiting in her open doorway, wearing a silk kimono that came to just above her knee. Even amid the fog of my tears I was struck by how pretty she was.
“Who are you?” she said as I reached the top step. Her eyes narrowed in
“Dad,” I gasped.
He shook his head and, ever so gently, so it didn’t even make a sound, he closed the door.
Chapter Eight
The memory was real, that much I knew. But it didn’t make sense. How could I have been riding a moped? I didn’t even know how to. And how could Katie be dead?
I started thumping my fists on the closed door, screaming for my parents. But they didn’t come. I stopped banging when I saw streaks of red against the blue. My fists were bleeding.
I slid down against the door and sat on the rough welcome mat. I wanted to stay here, maybe just die on my own doorstep. But I couldn’t give up until I understood what was going on.
Katie had been dead for nearly two weeks. The doctors had told Mum and Dad she’d died instantly. But I knew better. I’d heard her screaming while I tried to get her out of the crumpled mess of the moped. Then she’d gone quiet. And I’d lain on the wet concrete holding her cold hand. I refused to let go when the ambulance men arrived.
I hit my head against the door behind me. Katie couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t be. Because while I remembered seeing her tiny body being taken away on a stretcher, I also remembered sitting and having dinner together only yesterday. She’d been sad and I, like a coward, hadn’t wanted to talk about it. So I went out and Katie had covered for me. We’d spoken on the phone only hours ago and she promised to lie so I could go back to a girl’s house. A girl who had told me I was special.
Aubrey.
Aubrey would know what was going on. I had to find her. Only problem was I couldn’t remember where she lived. There had been a sculpture of some kind. I scrunched up my eyes, willing the image to become clearer. A statue of an elephant. Near an Underground station. I stood up, rubbed the tears from my eyes, and started running.
The row of rundown buildings was the most welcome sight I’d ever seen. I jogged past the doors, trying to pick out which flat was Aubrey’s. I saw a graffiti-covered wall and could have hugged the little ASBO who’d told the world to “Fuck of”.
My finger hovered over the line of buzzers. The scribbled names had faded under the plastic shields, but one name jumped out at me. I pushed the buzzer marked Jones and waited. I didn’t even know if she would be home.
“Hello?” a voice crackled through the intercom.
Hearing her voice was like walking into a warm room. “Aubrey. Aubrey thank God! It’s me, Scott.”
“Who?” Aubrey said.
“Scott. Please let me in. I don’t know what the hell is going on.”
“I don’t know who you are. Push off will you?”
I knew I had just seconds to prove that she knew me. Seconds before she hung up the intercom and walked away. I felt like a man grabbing at a fraying rope. In an instant it would snap and I would fall into the abyss. I needed something to make her understand. Some kind of password.
From somewhere in the depths of my dissolving mind a word appeared.
“Swordfish!” I shouted into the grey box on the wall.
There was a pause. Then a buzz and clunk of the lock opening. I pushed at the door and walked in. The black rail of the stairwell was oddly solid, as if it was the first real thing I’d touched all day.
When I made it to the fifth floor, Aubrey was waiting in her open doorway, wearing a silk kimono that came to just above her knee. Even amid the fog of my tears I was struck by how pretty she was.
“Who are you?” she said as I reached the top step. Her eyes narrowed in
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