A Kiss in the Dark (27 page)

The nights were the hardest. If I wasn’t lying awake and panicking about the situation I’d found myself in, I was dreaming about Alex. The worst dreams were the happy ones – the ones where we were walking on the beach or lying on my bed and doing all the things couples do. The happiness of those dreams, the absolute joy and the fullness of my heart, made it unbearably painful to wake up and remember. And the unhappy dreams were just unhappy. Asleep or awake, I couldn’t win.

Mum tried to talk to me over breakfast on Sunday. I sipped tea while she ate homemade granola. ‘I know you haven’t been eating. I’m not as daft as I look, you know.’

I shrugged, not in the mood for a lecture about eating disorders. I didn’t have an eating disorder, I just didn’t feel like eating. It was strange because whenever
I’d been upset in the past, I’d always turned to food. Crisps, mostly. Chocolate too. But now food was the last thing on my mind. I could eat it – and did when Mum was watching me – but I didn’t really want to. ‘Mum, it’s fine. I am eating. It’s just … hard.’ My voice wavered and I gulped down the lump in my throat, wondering if that counted as one of my five a day.

Mum scooted her chair over and put her arms around me. ‘Oh love, I can’t even imagine what you must be going through. I wish you’d come to me sooner … I feel like the worst mother in the world, sometimes. It breaks my heart that you didn’t come to me as soon as … you … it … happened. What kind of mother doesn’t even know when her daughter’s hurting like that?’

I held her tight as the tears started to slip down my face. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong, Mum. Nothing, OK? I don’t want you thinking like that. I … I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. This should never have happened.’

She pulled away and looked at me, then brushed away my tears with her finger. Her eyes were glistening too, but she’d managed to hold it together so far. ‘Well there’s no use crying over spilled milk, is there? And no one’s better than us McAllister women at making
the best out of a bad situation. We’ll get through this, Kate. I’ll be with you every step of the way.’ We hugged again and I didn’t want to let go. It felt good to have her on my side, even under false pretences.

Mum let me get away without eating breakfast, but she said she would make anything I wanted for dinner that night – I could choose anything in the whole world (provided it was something she knew how to cook). ‘Macaroni cheese?’ I said, without thinking. And my mouth started watering at the thought of it – the crispy, golden breadcrumbs on top of gooey, cheesy pasta. Obviously my brain had been lying about me not wanting food. ‘Deal,’ Mum said. ‘Double helpings for both of us, I think.’

I smiled. ‘I think I might do some piano practice later too.’ This was the one thing guaranteed to make Mum’s day. She loved to listen to me play. She would prop some cushions behind her head and lie on the sofa with her eyes closed. She said it was the only time she felt truly relaxed. She adored music – that’s why she was always on my back about it – and she really did think I had a chance at a professional career. I wasn’t so sure, and I don’t think my teacher was all that convinced, but if I doubled the amount of practice I’d been doing there was at least a chance I could do well in the competition. I’d missed playing, I realized.
It soothed me too, as long as I only played pieces I was actually good at. Otherwise it was the most frustrating thing in the world. I resolved to play some of Mum’s favourites that afternoon. It would be good to get back to normal in at least one area of my life – an area I could control.

Mum’s eyes lit up, just like I expected them to. ‘I would
love
to listen to you play. I’ve really missed it. Now why don’t I pour you another cup of tea? And there are some biscuits in the jar if you fancy … they’re your favourites.’ My mother could be crafty when it suited her.

My stomach was crying out for food, I realized. How had I not noticed before? I took a few chocolate digestives from the jar (to Mum’s obvious delight), got a fresh cup of tea and headed back to my room. I took a bite of biscuit and accidentally moaned at how amazing it tasted. I jammed three biscuits in my mouth then licked the chocolate from my fingers.

I was brushing some crumbs from the corner of my mouth, feeling guilty for being a disgusting pig, when my phone buzzed. It was lying face down on my pillow. I expected it to be Stella, or maybe even Astrid. I didn’t recognize the number. I had to read the message a few times before I understood.

‘You don’t know me, but I know all about you.
Alex Banks is my sister. I need to talk to you – urgently. Can we meet up today? DON’T ignore this message. Jamie.’

Another message arrived as I was re-reading the first one. ‘I’m not a psycho or anything. And I’m not one for blackmail … but I STRONGLY suggest you meet up with me. Alex doesn’t know I’m doing this.’

My stomach churned and the biscuits very nearly made a reappearance. I had to sit down on the edge of the bed as I was overwhelmed by dizziness and nausea. Alex’s brother, the famous Jamie.

I didn’t know what to do. I wondered if I should tell Mum, but she’d probably call the police. I was sure there was some kind of law about this – Alex or anyone in her family shouldn’t be allowed to contact me. Wasn’t it witness intimidation or something like that?

And what kind of person says they’re not one for blackmail? You’d only mention blackmail if you were intending to blackmail someone, right? There was nothing he could use against me though – there was nothing left of my life for anyone to ruin.

I wondered how he reacted when he found out that his little sister had been dressing up as a boy. He couldn’t possibly think that that was OK, could he? No one would ever think that was a normal thing to
do. But surely the only reason he’d be contacting me would be to get me to drop the charges against Alex. Either he believed she was innocent, or he thought she might be guilty but wanted me to drop the charges anyway. I shouldn’t meet up with him. What if he wanted to hurt me? From what Alex had told me about Jamie he didn’t sound like a violent sort of person, but you never really know what someone is capable of until they’re pushed, do you?

It would be crazy for me to see Jamie. I should ignore his texts and wait and see what happened at the hearing the next day. Yes, that was exactly what I should do. I read his messages again and then switched off my phone.

Twelve minutes later I turned my phone on again and texted him back. ‘
Meet me on Portobello Beach at 4 p.m. By the pub at the end of Bath Street
.’

His response was almost instant: ‘
OK
.’

*

There are some things you do in life even though you know you shouldn’t. They are the things which make us human. I hadn’t done many things like this – up until last year, at least. Eating six bags of crisps in one day was about as risky as my life got. Meeting up with Alex at the gig had been my first proper risk. There was a chance he would turn out to be some old geezer
pretending to be a teenage boy to lure girls off the internet. (It had never occurred to me that there was a chance of him not actually being male.) Going to the gig felt like a good risk to be taking; it was exciting. For the first time in my life I had no idea what was going to happen, and when I finally laid eyes on Alex I knew all the angst and nerves and changing my outfit four times had been worth it.

This could not have been more different. This was a risk without any possible positive outcome. It was stupid. Sergeant Tanaka would definitely not approve, and Mum would kill me if she found out. There was a chance it could jeopardize the court case – there might be some obscure legal loophole no one had told me about. But I had to meet up with Jamie. I needed to hear what he had to say.

In the back of my mind I knew the real reason I had to meet up with him, but I tried my best to block it out. The truth was, I wanted to know more about Alex. I wanted to
understand
.

It was bitterly cold outside and the wind was vicious. That was partly why I’d chosen the beach – it would probably be quiet. Jamie and I would be able to talk without being overheard, but there would hopefully be a couple of people around if something went wrong (even though I wasn’t exactly sure what that ‘something’ could be).

I told Mum I needed to go for a walk to clear my head. I thought she was going to say I couldn’t go, but she just nodded and said, ‘I think some fresh air will do you good – blow those cobwebs away.’

I kissed her on the cheek and told her I’d play the piano after dinner. Then I thanked her, which took her by surprise. ‘Thanks for what, love?’

I shrugged. ‘Everything, I suppose.’

Mum smiled a pretty smile and it made me wish she’d do it more often. ‘We’re going to have a lovely
evening, just the two of us. Maybe we can watch a film later – take your mind off …’

I said that would be nice and then I left the house to go and meet the brother of the girl I had accused of sexual assault.

A couple of men were standing outside the pub on the promenade. One of them was having difficulty lighting his cigarette in the wind. Neither of them was wearing a jacket; the one who wasn’t smoking had both his hands jammed into his armpits for warmth. The pub looked busy, with lots of big groups having leisurely Sunday lunches – grandparents and parents and kids and babies. Everybody looked like they were having a good time, all cosy and warm and
together
.

A runner wearing black leggings with fluorescent yellow shorts on top was sprinting along the shoreline. A man was walking along the promenade with two out-of-control Dalmatians; he kept hissing at them to ‘heel’ while trying to look like he was totally in control. There was an old couple sitting on a bench, huddled together against the cold. The woman poured something from a red flask into red cups and the man smiled at her lovingly. It was probably their little Sunday ritual – a walk on the beach after lunch, no matter the weather. I wondered if the flask had alcohol in it.

‘Kate?’ My first thought was: Alex. The voice was almost the same, maybe ever so slightly deeper. I turned and it was hard for me to think clearly for a second or two. The boy in front of me looked so much like Alex that I couldn’t help but stare. Then I started to see the little differences, then the differences became more obvious and after a full five seconds there was just your standard family resemblance. But those eyes … I kept on coming back to those eyes. They were so much like Alex’s it was incredible. Except the softness was missing; Jamie’s eyes were narrowed and not particularly friendly.

‘Hi,’ I stuck out my hand for him to shake and he stared at it before eventually grasping it for a millisecond. I hadn’t meant to do that, obviously.

‘Thanks for coming.’ His ears were red from the cold. I was grateful for my woolly hat. He wasn’t wearing a hat or gloves, but he had a thin grey scarf wrapped round his neck several times. He was wearing a jacket I recognized; Alex had worn it once. It fitted Jamie a bit better – he was taller and broader.

‘You didn’t exactly leave me with much choice, did you?’

He winced and said, ‘Sorry about that. I didn’t think you’d come otherwise. Sorry.’

His apology surprised me. I’d half expected him
to arrive all guns blazing, maybe pin me up against a wall and threaten me. ‘Um … it’s OK.’

‘Shall we walk?’ He nodded down the promenade and we started walking. The old man on the bench said ‘Good afternoon’ to us and Jamie said the same back, then added something about the terrible weather which made the man and the woman laugh. I could feel them watching us after we passed them. They probably thought we were just like them – a couple in love, out for a Sunday stroll. Although maybe the fact that you could have ridden a bike through the gap between Jamie and me was a bit of a giveaway.

Jamie didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, but his eyes kept flicking towards me and then back towards the sea. My eyes started watering from the cold and I swiped away the tears with my gloved hand, hoping Jamie didn’t think I was crying.

We were halfway to the end of the Promenade when he spoke. ‘The last time I was here was with Alex.’ I said nothing. ‘The weather was almost as bad too.’ This time he looked at me so I felt an obligation to nod. ‘Why are you doing this?’ He stopped walking; I stopped too.

‘Doing what?’ He just stared at me, waiting me out. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say. We really
shouldn’t be talking about this anyway. If the police knew I was here …’

‘Fuck the police! This is my little sister we’re talking about. This is her
life
. Why are you doing this to her?’

‘She
assaulted
me.’ The words sounded strong and true. Jamie just stared at me some more, forcing me to continue. ‘I’m the victim here.’ These words sounded timid and unsure.

‘My sister would never hurt anyone.’

Anger flared. ‘I suppose you thought your sister would never dress up like a boy to trick some girl she’d met on the internet. Your
sister
hurt me. She ruined my life!’ The tears that appeared now had nothing to do with the driving wind. I turned away from Jamie, wiping away my tears.

When I turned back to Jamie he was staring out to sea. A huge tanker was making its way up the Firth of Forth. ‘She’ll go to prison, you know – Young Offenders. How do you think she’ll cope in a place like that?’

I had enough sense not to shrug. ‘I don’t know.’

Jamie sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘You’re really going to sit back and let this happen?’

‘She’s the one who confessed.’ I was sounding more and more like a child.

‘Yeah, that took everyone by surprise. Mum and Dad couldn’t believe it. They had a hard enough time wrapping their heads around the idea that she’s been borrowing my clothes, but they didn’t believe she’d ever be capable of hurting anyone. Not until she spoke to the police yesterday. Then all of a sudden they’re wondering where they went wrong, how they could have raised a daughter who would
abuse
someone. They believe Alex, because why would she lie about something like that?’