Lost for Words (11 page)

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Not sure.”

“I think,” I said, “I think I’m going mad.” I saw a blast of orange light in my mind’s eye. Felt the glass of the kitchen window shatter to smithereens in my imagination. I passed one of my hands over my eyes to clear the thoughts.

Eleanor was quiet. The skin around her eyes was very lined. She coughed and her lungs rattled. When I didn’t say anything, she said, “Has something happened?” She was very gentle.

I took a deep breath, the panic starting to fade. “I used to live here with my mum, dad, and sister.”

Eleanor glanced over at her daughter then back at me. My heart dropped low into my body; how could I explain myself? I said, “There was an accident. No, not an accident.”

Sally put three cups and a full teapot down on the table and sat across from me. She smiled, and I saw in her overly
big smile, her wide polite eyes, that she thought I wasn’t right in the head.

I said, “I just wanted to come here. I know it doesn’t make sense.” I picked up my cup. “I’m sorry,” I said.

Eleanor nodded. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked. Her voice was loud and she spoke slowly, like she was trying to get through on a bad phone line. She reached a hand out and touched me briefly on the arm. “Is there someone we can call?” She poured the tea and stirred two sugars in mine, passing me the cup.

I sipped and tasted the sugary sweetness of the tea. I tried to put everything in place in my head.

Sally said quietly, “I have to go to Dad’s, Mum.”

“Get Juliette to give you a lift,” Eleanor replied. Then more quietly, as if I might not hear her, “This girl needs a moment.”

I said, “No, I’m sorry. I should go. I’m in your way.” I couldn’t stop apologizing.

Eleanor lifted her palm in a
wait-there
gesture. I didn’t move.

Sally said, “See you later,” and was gone.

I said, “I should go. I’ve disturbed you enough.” My nearly full cup stared at me accusingly.

“Let me know who to call,” Eleanor said.

“There’s no one to call. It never gets better.”

“What about your mum? Or your sister?”

I shook my head. The panic had leached out of me, and
I was left feeling empty and ashamed. “I have to go.” I was entirely, vividly aware of how humiliating the situation was. This woman was a total stranger.

My head hurt. I rubbed my eyes. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know anything anymore.”

I stood up and pulled my coat around me. “I should go.”

“Let me help you.”

I felt as if a flat blade had gone under my rib cage and lifted the bones. I hurried to the corridor, not answering when Eleanor followed, saying, “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

Just as I opened the door, she said, “Come and sit back down. We’ll call someone.”

I lied, “No, my friend lives nearby. She’ll take me home.”

And that was it. The door of 18 Bowood Road closed, and I went back out into the road as if nothing had happened. It took me hours to get home.

MONDAY, APRIL 24
^TH

The Easter holiday is over. I called the reception at school and told them I had the flu. The receptionist went quiet for a moment and then said, “Sophie Baxter. You missed a couple of days at the end of last term and you’re ill again?”

“Yeah. I’m just sick.”

“You’ll need a doctor’s note.”

I went quiet.

She said, “Baxter. Aren’t you the one who was in the—”

I hung up.

TUESDAY, APRIL 25
^TH

I climbed onto the roof and sat there staring into space. I kept thinking I could see Emily. Or hear her voice. But not what she was saying.

I think I’m dying. I can’t breathe. And I don’t want to remember the day of the bombing, but I can’t stop myself. I remember standing on the platform with Emily. I remember exactly what I said and every word she spoke back to me in reply.

I remember I finished tying my shoelace and said, “Sorry, Em.”

“Not to worry. There’ll be another train in a minute.”

“What are we going to see again?”

“A show at the National Gallery. Light boxes. Sound good?”

“And after that?”

“I don’t know, what do you feel like?” she said.

It was hot. Very crowded. I looked at the other passengers on the platform. One tall guy farther down caught my eye. He smiled. The train roared in. We got on.

Emily held the crook of my arm as we squeezed into seats, thinking ourselves lucky to sit on such a packed train, and then she let go. Between the gaps in the people, in the black glass opposite, I looked at myself and Emily. We looked so different, Emily and I. Me, dark-haired and pale; her, blond-haired, dark-eyed.

The train pulled out of the station, swaying so we pressed against each other, arm to arm in our seats. The tunnel was black around us.

Emily started to say something.

There was a flash of orange light, a huge bang.

I saw her face for a split second, her eyes wide and her mouth falling open in a scream.

Then the explosion burst the reflection of Emily and me to smithereens. Glass sprayed in silver lines and I flung my hands to my eyes. A force pushed into the back of me and my
whole spine jolted, my chest jarred up into my throat. I was twisted and thrown in a vat of scalding air. Every part of my body was slammed and shocked, and I thought I saw a huge fireball blast toward me, but it may have been the searing of the insides of my eyes. I smashed down and lay momentarily very still. The air stank of burned hair, and much worse.

Someone was screaming; it could have been me. From the feel against my palms I thought I could tell that I was pressed against the ridged floor of the train, but I couldn’t see anything in the dark. I tried to stand, but something was crushing me. I fought in the blackness and shoved a heavy object off my leg.

I managed to get to my feet, and then I coughed and was nearly sick. The object I’d thrown off me, it seemed, was my seat. There was smoke and glass everywhere. Someone yelled, “Help me, please! Help me!” I touched my fingers to my face and felt wet, warm and wet. Was it blood? Tears?

My head was ringing. “Emily,” I croaked, frantic and dizzy. Everything was screaming. My ears were violent suddenly, assaulting me with the sounds of other voices. I put my hands before me. A light flickered on and off. And on. I saw Emily. I screamed and I knew it was me screaming because my throat tore as the sound came out.

She was lying not far from me in the wreckage of the train interior. Her neck was in the wrong position. Her limbs were all at strange angles. I fought my way over to her, screaming her name. The layers of her shirts were half
torn off. I could see the dirty, pale skin of her shoulder. Her eyes were semi-closed.

“Emily,” I sobbed. “You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. Stay with me.”

The air stank of sweat, of fire, of fear. My words evaporated into the chaos and dust around us.

“Emily, listen to me. Hold on. I’ll get help.”

She squeezed my hand. My ears roared. She was struggling to breathe.

“Sophie,” she whispered.

“Don’t speak, don’t speak. Save your breath until someone comes.” I begged the air for help. All I could see were smoke and the shadow of a crush of people looming and fading. I feared we’d be trampled. I turned back to Emily. She was trying to get air in, making these small gasping movements with her mouth like a fish out of water.

She managed to whisper, “It hurts.”

She took a ragged breath.

And then her eyes rolled.

And then everything stopped.

I yelled her name. I tried to help her breathe by blowing air into her mouth. I tried to get her heart to work again by pounding at her chest. I shook her and I held her and I screamed.

The tall guy was beside me. Blood welled from his cheek, the cut a jagged red pen line. He said, “We need to get out.”
He looked down at me, and his eyes were so kind I wept.

“I’ve got to stay with her,” I said, tears falling all over my cheeks and dripping salty into my mouth.

He made the tiniest no motion with his head and kept his gaze locked on mine. He repeated, “We need to get out. You need to follow me.” He grabbed my wrist, a manacle, and pulled me with him.

We half crawled out of the train. One woman had so much glass in her hair, she looked like a dusty snow queen. I put my hand up to my own hair and found it to be full of glass, too. I saw a man lying on the tracks. I couldn’t work out if he was moving. The tall man held my wrist, following a man wearing an orange jacket. We were caught up in a strange, silent flow of people. I yelled to the man in orange, “My sister. She’s back there. I need help. I left her.”

A voice came over the loudspeaker. “Don’t panic. Stay calm.” Then the voice tore up and crackled out of existence.

One man took photos with his phone. Another ran past yelling that he was going to die. Someone near the front seized him and yelled, “Calm down. You’ve got to calm down.”

I kept walking. The tall man had his fingers tight around my wrist. We stumbled along the tunnel and then up a flight of stairs. Twice I struggled and tried to go back but was forced up and up.

We stepped out into the light. I blinked. Paramedics
rushed around. Flashing blue lights illuminated dozens of people with blood on their faces. There was blood on the grey tarmac beneath my feet, and the sky above was cloudy, buildings filling the space between. Next to me stood a woman with black ash like runny mascara on her cheeks. I rubbed my face and the same blackness came off on my fingers.

I took a deep breath and looked at the people everywhere. I stumbled one way, stopped and turned to go back down.

A police officer said, “You can’t go in there.”

“Emily,” I whispered. I staggered away from him. A woman put her arm around my shoulders to direct me. I let her lead, and she helped me into an ambulance. A journalist pushed a microphone into my face, and I turned away.

I must have fainted because, when I woke, I was lying in a bed in a brightly lit room. I struggled to focus.

“What’s happened?” came a voice, and it took me a moment to see my mother leaning over me, fluorescent light in her hair and eyes. She said, out of breath, “Oh my God. Look at you. Are you okay? I just got here. I can’t believe I found you.” She wrapped me in a hug. She smelled of her perfume, her shampoo.

I pushed her off, saying, “Where am I?” I fought to sit. “What’s going on?”

“Are you okay? It took me ages to get here. I’ve been desperate. How are you feeling? Where’s Emily?” Mum’s eyes were wet. “She’s with you?”

I shook my head.

Mum said, “They directed me here to find—” She looked around. “Where is she? Where is she?”

“She was with me. She was right next to me.”

Mum said, “Where is she, Sophie?”

“What’s happened?” I said.

A doctor appeared and put his hand on my upper arm. He said, “There was a bomb. They’ve blown up a train. What’s your name? You’re badly bruised, but nothing’s broken. You’re in shock.”

I tried to speak.

Mum squeezed my fingers. The doctor smiled gently at her, and she released me from her grip. She was crying. She said, “Her name’s Sophie Marie Baxter. I’m her mother. Her older sister was with her. Emily Baxter. She must be here somewhere. Oh my God.”

The doctor called out, “Have we got an Emily Baxter here?”

I said, “She was with me on the train. She’s my sister.”

A nurse appeared around the door, looked at a clipboard, and shook her head. Then she looked at us and said, “It’s total pandemonium. There’s been another explosion out there—several, they think. A terrorist attack. Suicide bombers, perhaps—they don’t know. Wait here.”

“I need to find my daughter. My other daughter is missing. Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?” Mum had tears running down both cheeks and her arms folded over her chest. She dashed the tears away and folded her arms again. “Please find my daughter.”

“I was in the train,” I said. The words I needed to say would not come out.

“She’s in shock,” said the doctor, not to me. “Cuts and bruises, some temporary damage to her hearing. It’s not as bad as it looks. She’s very lucky.”

A couple appeared at the doorway, and I thought they were familiar. They stared at me hopefully then looked at each other in dismay. I clearly wasn’t who they were looking for—they were strangers after all.

Mum said my sister’s name, walked away, came back. She was like a headless chicken flailing for life when life was gone.

“Mum, Emily’s still down there,” I finally said. And again I fainted.

THURSDAY, APRIL 27
^TH

Before I left the house for school, Mum tried to talk to me. I said, “I have to run. I’m late.”

“Sophie, could we have supper together?”

I paused and looked back at her. Under her eyes she had dark purple rings that might be there permanently now.
She smiled. I surprised myself by saying, “Why do you collect lost things?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. She said, “They’re not lost things in my collection. They’re things I’ve found.”

Her answer made no sense. I said, “I’m late for school,” and headed out the door.

I heard her call after me, “What about supper?”

FRIDAY, APRIL 28
^TH

On my way home from school today I was walking slowly, dreading getting there. I was looking at the ground, and I didn’t notice someone approaching me. Ended up, I slammed headfirst into Dan! I blushed and my stomach lurched.

“Sophie,” he said, dipping his head so he could look into my eyes, which made me blush more.

I knew I looked a mess, and I was wearing my school uniform, which was completely embarrassing. I pushed my hands through my hair.

He said, “I’ve been meaning to call you.”

“To say what?”

“That I want to see you again.”

“It’s been ages. Too long,” I said.

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about you.”

My heart jumped. “What about Abigail? She’s your girlfriend.”

He shook his head. “It just sort of happened that way.” He put a hand on my cheek, and my skin burned. “I loved kissing you. You felt so good. You’re so pretty. It’s you I like.”

Despite the fact I haven’t heard from him, despite the fact that he and Abi are still together, I couldn’t help but tip my face up. He leaned closer and brushed his lips against mine. My stomach did a slow flip and my insides gathered tightly.

“Oh, Dan,” I sighed, which sounds really stupid, but it made him groan and kiss me harder. Suddenly I didn’t care about Abigail, or Mum, or Emily, or anything, and all I could think about was how good I felt.

He pulled away and said, “Do you want to come back to my house? We could have a drink, spend some time together?”

I felt my cheeks warm, and I smiled. “Sure.” I nodded.

Just then his mobile rang. He lightly touched my cheek and said, “Let me get this.” He pulled the phone out of his pocket and turned away. He said, “Hey, you,” before he stepped out of my hearing. I bet it was Abigail. I cringed with frustration at myself.

I looked at him, my heart still beating fast and my mouth still tasting of him. Despite it all, I was going to go back to his house. I shivered in anticipation. It would be so good to forget everything, to spend a few hours in his arms. He winked over at me and then got off the phone.

I said, “Okay, let’s go.”

“I’m sorry, Sophie, honey. That was a friend of mine. I have to go—I already have plans. Kissing you made me forget.”

I barely had time to stammer a good-bye before he gave me a quick kiss on the lips and hurried off up the road. He yelled over his shoulder, “I’ll call you.” Then he was gone, almost as if nothing had just happened between us. I had a pain go through me at the thought that he was on his way to see Abigail, but it didn’t stop me liking him. I put my fingers to my lips. I knew deep down that kissing Dan was never going to make anything better. I knew Emily would have told me the same thing. But I pushed the thought aside.

TUESDAY, MAY 2
^ND

In the lunch queue I heard Abigail say to Megan, “Dan still hasn’t called. He promised he’d come and see me on Friday. I texted him asking where he was, but he said he was busy doing something with his mum. I didn’t hear from him all weekend. I want to see him.”

Megan glanced back at Zara and gave her a secret smile with her big toothy mouth. I couldn’t interpret it at all. I hate Megan. Worse, I hate myself for kissing Dan and for being pleased he didn’t see Abi on Friday. I was delighted he hadn’t left me to go and see her. He’d gone to see his mum!
Although, I thought he said he was going to see a friend. I thought of him bending forward to kiss me, of how he made that groan when I said his name. I like him so much. When did everything get so complicated?

I was glad when Abi bought a huge plate of chips with a burger. She’s so thin her bones almost push at her skin. She’s lost a lot of weight recently.

I sat down with Megan and Abi, hoping Rosa-Leigh would show up soon. The girls queuing for their food shoved and jostled each other. Everything was so normal. Except for me. The blood in my veins pulsed a sudden, strange, silent flow of terror. My heart starting thumping. A panic attack. I left my food and, without telling the others where I was going, hurried to the bathroom, where I hid in one of the stalls hoping to calm down.

I heard people come in. The first one said, “How quick can you do it?” It was Megan, I could recognize her nasal voice anywhere.