Noughts and Crosses (19 page)

Dad took the card. ‘That’s very kind of you, Officer. Thank you.’ His voice shook as he took the card.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Sergeant Collins said one more time before ushering the constable out of the front door.

At the click of the closing door, I sank down onto the sofa. Lynette entered my head and filled my thoughts and spun around me and danced through me until it felt like she was swallowing me up. Jude stood quite still, looking utterly lost. Mum opened her eyes slowly. She pulled herself away from Dad, who reluctantly let her go, before turning to face us. A solitary tear trickled down her cheek.

‘You must all be so proud of yourselves,’ she said. ‘I hope you’re happy now.’

‘Meggie, that’s not fair,’ Dad began. ‘The officer said it was an accident.’

Mum looked at each of us in turn. ‘Was it? Or did she have her mind on what you all said to her?’ Then Mum buried her head in her hands, murmuring, ‘My baby . . . my baby . . .’

And we could do nothing but stand and watch – all of us together, each of us utterly alone.

I flicked from channel to channel to channel, searching for something to watch. Looking for something to occupy my time. Nothing on that channel. Nothing on that channel either.

‘For goodness’ sake!’ Minnie snatched the remote control out of my hand and threw it across the room.

‘What’s biting you?’ I asked.

‘Doesn’t anything ever bother you?’ Minnie asked, shaking her head.

‘Lots of things bother me,’ I frowned.

‘But nothing that you actually lose any sleep over, eh?’

‘What’re you talking about?’

‘Mother and Dad are splitting up. It’s actually going to happen. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

‘It means a lot to me,’ I protested. ‘Dad’s got someone else. Mother’s drowning her sorrows even worse than
before and you lash out at me all the time because I’m an easy target. But there’s not a single thing I can do about any of it, is there?’

Minnie gave me a look that would’ve felled a giant redwood, before she marched out of the room. I stood up and hunted for the remote. I mean, jeez! Was it my fault?

What did she want from me, for goodness sake? If I could’ve done something about Mother and Dad then I would’ve. But one person, especially someone like me, never made a difference to a ruddy thing. At last I found the remote and sat back down on the sofa, growing more angry with each passing second. Minnie drove me nuts with her constant moods and her sulky behaviour. In fact, if she thought . . .

‘Sephy, phone for an ambulance. Quick!’

I’ve never moved so fast in my life. I took the stairs, two and three at a time, following the sound of Minnie’s voice. I ran into Minnie’s bedroom but it was empty. I dashed into Mother’s bedroom across the landing and stopped suddenly like I’d hit an invisible brick wall. Mum was slumped on the floor, a tablet bottle by her side with a few scattered pills on the carpet. A very few pills. Minnie cradled Mum’s head on her lap, frantically stroking her hair and calling her name.

‘An ambulance. Now!’ Minnie screamed at me.

I ran along the landing to the phone, shock freezing my eyes wide open. Mother had tried to kill herself.

My mother had tried to kill herself . . .

There was something wrong with me. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. I sat on my bed and stared into nothing and I couldn’t cry. I lay on my back with my hands behind my head – and nothing. I lay on my stomach, burying my face into my pillow, waiting for the tears to start. But they didn’t. My sister was dead and I couldn’t feel a thing. My head still buried in my pillow, I clenched my fists and stuck them under it so I wouldn’t do something silly like punch the wall or the headboard. My fingers brushed against something cold and smooth. I sat up and lifted up my pillow. There was an envelope with
Callum
written on it in my sister’s neat, tiny writing. Shock, hot and electric, shot through me. I picked it up. The letter dropped to the floor. I stared down at it, unable to believe my eyes.

‘Lynny?’ I whispered, confused.

I looked around, expecting to see her standing in my bedroom doorway, smiling at me, ‘Gotcha!’ all over her face. But the room was empty. What should I do? I bent down and picked up the letter between two trembling fingers. I was desperate to know what it said, but at the same time, I was terrified. Count to three and then do it. I got to two, then tore open the letter. My heart hammering, I began to read.

Dear Callum
,

This is a very hard letter to write but I wanted you of all people to know the truth. By now, if I’m very lucky and God is very good, I won’t be around any more. I’m tired and I want out, it’s as simple as that. I’ve tried to think of the best way to do this and I think walking in front of a bus or a tram or a train is the easiest. A car is too hit and miss! See! My sense of humour has come back, along with my sanity. The return of my sanity, I can stand. It’s the return to reality that I can’t cope with
.

I’ll try to make it look like an accident so that I don’t shame Mum and Dad but I wanted you to know the truth. I’m not ashamed of who I am any more, but I don’t want to live in a world where what I am isn’t good enough, where nothing I do will ever be good enough because I’m a nought and I always will be and nothing will ever change that. I hope you and Sephy have more luck than Jed and me – if that’s what you want. Take care of yourself. And whatever life throws at you, be strong. Be strong for both of us
.

All my love
,

Lynette

Lynny . .

I stared down at the letter in my hand. The words blurred and swam before me. I didn’t have to read it a second or a third time. Once was more than enough. Crumpling the letter in my hand, I squeezed it smaller and smaller. I squeezed it like my heart was being squeezed. I sat perfectly still, for a minute, an hour, I don’t know how long. Long enough for the pain in my throat to subside. Long enough for my eyes to stop smarting. And only when I could trust myself not to hurt so much, only then
did I move. I tore the letter into a hundred pieces and let them fall to the floor like paper rain.

For the first time in my life I hated my sister. Hated her. She’d given in. She’d given up on life and left me to live it for the both of us.
All my love
. . . Was that all love did for you? Made you give up and give in? Left you open to pain and hurt? If it was, I swore that nothing would ever make me do the same as her.

Nothing.

Minnie and I sat together, her arm around my shoulder.

‘Minerva . .?’

‘Shush!’ Minnie whispered. ‘Mother will be all right. You’ll see. She’ll be fine.’

I looked up and down the carpeted corridor. The place looked more like a hotel than a hospital. Did they really know what they were doing? And where was Mother? They’d only let us in the ambulance because Minnie had insisted and kept her hand in Mother’s all the time. And the moment we arrived, Minnie and I had been ushered to a waiting area whilst Mother was put on a trolley and wheeled off somewhere else. The minutes ticked, ticked, ticked by – and still nothing. No word, no nurses, no doctors, nothing.

I looked down at my twisting hands in my lap.

Please, God . . . Please . . .

‘Minerva? Persephone? Ah, there you are,’ Juno Ayelette, Dad’s personal secretary, marched along the corridor towards us.

Minnie sprung to her feet. Following her lead, I did the same.

‘It’s a shame you two didn’t have your wits about you,’ Juno told us.

Puzzled, I looked from Juno to Minnie, who was just as baffled as I was.

‘You should’ve phoned me first rather than phoned for an ambulance on a landline. The story is already out that your mother took an overdose because your dad has found someone else.’ Juno frowned. ‘This is going to take some fancy footwork on my part.’

I shook my head, convinced that my mind was playing tricks. Surely I’d heard that wrong? I must’ve. No-one could be so thoughtless. So heartless.

‘Mother tried to commit suicide . . .’ Minnie whispered.

‘Of course she didn’t,’ Juno scoffed, taking out her mobile phone. ‘Anyone who tries to commit suicide takes a lot more than four sleeping tablets. She was just trying to get attention and sympathy.’ She pressed a series of numbers on her phone.

I turned to my sister. ‘Minnie, what . .?’

‘Hi, Sanchez?’ Juno’s voice cut across my own. ‘Listen. We need to call in a few favours. I’m at the hospital and . . . yes, of course she’s fine . . . it’s nothing at all, I promise you, but we need to spread the word that it was
an accident, nothing more . . . Yes . . . Yes . . .’

Minnie snatched the phone out of Juno’s hand and threw it to the ground before grinding it under the heel of her boot. I stared at my sister, my heart racing, my eyes alight with new found admiration.

‘How dare you . .?’ Juno began.

‘You can go to hell,’ Minnie screamed at her.

‘You’re a spoilt brat, Minerva Hadley.’

‘And you’re an insensitive cow!’ And with that my sister marched off towards the casualty department.

I smirked at Juno before I ran to catch up with my sister. She glanced my way, her expression grim.

‘Electric, Minerva. Just electric!’ I told her.

And whilst she didn’t smile, the grim expression on her face softened.

Slightly.

It was the day of Lynette’s funeral – a week after her ‘accident’. A week of no school, no tears, no nothing. I’d gone for a late morning walk down to the beach. Alone. I stood on the sand, wearing my one and only formal blue suit and watched the waves lap back and forth, wondering why they did that. What was the point – if there was one? Did anything in this world have a point or
was Lynette right? At last I walked home. Alone.

Only to find our house filled to overflowing with people. Friends, family, neighbours, strangers. I hadn’t expected all these people. I couldn’t cope with them. A quiet funeral, Dad had said. It looked like we had every nought in Meadowview struggling to get into our living room. I stood in a corner and watched for a while. Friends and strangers alike fought to be the first to say how sorry they were and spout on about ‘tragic accidents’ and ‘wasted lives’. So many people had come to pay their last respects that our front and back yards were both full – never mind the house. The level of noise from all the chatter was incessant. I reckoned it wouldn’t be long before I’d have to escape somewhere for some peace and quiet or I’d explode. Jude was with some of his friends, the now permanently sombre expression on his face. He wasn’t saying much, but he was drinking. Lager, I think it was. And from the way he was swaying on his feet, it obviously wasn’t his first. Well, if he wanted to be stupid, then I for one wasn’t going to stop him. Let him make a fool of himself, for all I cared. The whole world could go to hell for all I cared.