Under My Skin (16 page)

Not wanting to attract any more attention to herself than necessary, Sally was about to return for her afternoon lessons when her phone rang. The display said it was Jennie. ‘Hi, Jen —' Sally was cut off by what sounded like whale song. ‘Jennie, are you OK?'

‘He broke up with me . . .' Jennie managed to get the words out between sobs. It was like she'd been winded, gasping for air.

Sally stopped outside the school gates. He'd done it. He must have done it at lunchtime. Some of the guilt was replaced by validation. Molly Sue had done it the wrong way but she'd got the job done. Sally inhaled deeply, relief washing through her. In time, Jennie would thank her, she was sure of it. ‘Oh, Jennie, I'm sorry.' There were fresh wails down the phone and Sally had to hold the handset away from her ear. ‘Where are you?'

‘I couldn't stay at school. I'm on my way home.'

‘Do you want me to come over?'

More wailing. ‘Yes, please.' Sally continued past the school gates and walked in the direction of Jennie's. This new plan worked: her mum still wouldn't know she'd skipped school, and by the time she finished at Jennie's, school would most likely be over. Tomorrow was a new day – no more skipping lessons, she vowed. Teachers were bound to notice sooner or later.

Jennie lived a few streets away from Sally's house, not too far away from Todd now that she thought about it. All the streets in Mulberry Hill looked alike, the only difference being the number plates of the BMWs on the driveways. If you didn't know where you were going you could get lost in a labyrinth of Happy Meal houses.

Her friend appeared at her front door in a state. Jennie's face was red, puffy and snotty. She looked like a baby bird that had prematurely crashed out of a nest. Sally embraced her tightly. Jennie's body shook against hers as tears soaked into her shirt. ‘Aw, you poor thing. Tell me all about it.'

Sally led her upstairs to her bedroom. Kyle's band was playing out of Jennie's laptop on her bed.
Ooh, this was going to be some heavy emo chat,
Sally sensed. Jennie curled up on her pillow. Sally sat beside her and turned the music off. ‘That's not helping.' She stroked her friend's hair and handed her a tissue. ‘Come on, tell me what happened.'

‘I can't!'

‘You can! You and Kyle are pretty up-and-down . . .'

‘This was different. He meant it this time.'

Good. ‘Why? What did he say?'

Jennie blew her nose noisily. ‘He said it was over.'

‘Well, why?' Sally hoped her performance was convincing. She had to act clueless while at the same time burning to know if Kyle had kept his promise to ‘do it nicely'.

‘I don't know! He actually said, “It's not you it's me”! That he wasn't in love with me any more and needed to be by himself.'

Molly Sue chipped in, sounding extra smug. ‘Hate to say I told ya so . . .'

Go away
.
‘Oh, Jennie, I'm sorry. I don't know what to say . . .'

‘I just don't understand. I thought we were in love.' She sobbed afresh.

Sally shushed her and continued to smooth her hair. She wasn't known for her tough love, that was Stan's department, but she couldn't sit here and watch Jennie weep over that bumface. ‘Look, I probably shouldn't say this,' she started, ‘but it didn't look like you were having much fun . . . you fell out all the time.'

‘No, we didn't!'

‘Jennie, come on . . . you bickered constantly.'

‘You don't know what it was like . . .' This time she didn't seem so certain.

‘Were you going to marry him? Seriously? A guy from school? What were you going to do when you went to university? Follow him?'

‘I don't know,' Jennie said sulkily.

‘I'm just saying that even though it feels awful now, this might not be such a bad thing . . .'

‘BUT I LOVE HIM!'

‘I know, I know.' Sally could see that logic wasn't going to get her very far on this occasion. She supposed there was a time for tough love and a time for
there, there
. She resigned herself to a couple of hours of hair stroking. Internally, she was giddy. Kyle had done exactly as Molly Sue had said and Jennie, although upset, was safe.

She wasn't ready to forgive the tattoo just yet though. None of this excused what Molly Sue had done. The tattoo had
used
her body.

After a couple of, frankly damp, hours, Jennie pulled herself together. She didn't want to have to explain it all to her dad (the sternest parent Sally had ever met, he made her dad look quite laid back) so she'd dried her eyes. Sally, satisfied Jen wasn't going to throw herself down the stairs, headed home for dinner.

As ever, she and her parents sat in their designated places at the table. The Carpenters greatest hits played quietly in the background. Sally always thought that although the songs were saccharine, the singer sounded so, so sad.

‘Your report arrived today,' her mother said as she served a pungent fish pie alongside some soggy broccoli. There wasn't a vegetable on earth her mother couldn't over-boil.

Her dad sipped his wine. ‘Are we still doing well?'

Who's we?

Her mother sat down. ‘It was a wonderful report, Sally. All A-grades.'

‘Excellent,' her father said. ‘Keep it up.'

Sally blushed. Her mother went on. ‘Your teachers do say you need to participate more, though. You must join in, Sally.'

‘That's just what they say when they can't think of anything else to put,' Sally told them.

‘If that's what they're saying, you make sure you do it. Don't get too big for your boots, young lady,' her dad said. ‘There's no point in being a brainbox if you haven't got common sense, is there? We get these cocky graduates at the bank, qualifications coming out of their ears, and half of them don't even know how to tie their shoelaces.'

‘Yes, Dad.' She poked at the fishy potato blob, appetite destroyed. Whatever she did, it was never going to be enough. Maybe she should just stop trying.

After dinner, she tried to focus on her homework in her bedroom but maths problems turned to images of the previous night no matter how hard she tried to concentrate. She couldn't get the memory of Molly Sue swinging the oar at Kyle's head out of her mind. Worse, the glee she'd felt while doing it. The bloodlust as she'd run the knife up Kyle's thigh.

She closed her textbook and slumped over her desk.

She was scared and she didn't know how to hide it from Molly Sue. The more she tried to not think about it, the more she did. She felt so guilty. Was there still blood all over the jetty? What if Kyle told the police?

Molly Sue snapped at her. ‘You're not still gripin' about last night, are ya? Didn't you get what ya wanted? I put the dog down.'

‘Please, just stop,' Sally said aloud, confident her parents couldn't hear. ‘For God's sake, leave me alone.'

Feeling too hot and like her skin was on too tight, Sally pushed herself away from the desk, crossed to the window and pulled it open. The night air did nothing to take the edge off her queasiness. There was a whole town, a whole world outside the window, but wherever she ran, Molly Sue would be on her back. Literally.

Leaning on the windowsill, sudden movement from Stan's house drew her gaze. Through his window, she caught a glimpse of naked flesh and recoiled back into her room.
Why is he walking around in the buff?
Not wanting to see her friend in all his glory, but oddly unable to resist, she peeked out again. This time she saw that he wasn't naked, thank God, just walking around shirtless. He had headphones on and was dancing around his room. Safe to say he wasn't a natural dancer – he looked a lot like he was having a seizure. Sally suppressed a giggle. He'd die if he knew she could see him.

‘Wow,' Molly Sue purred. ‘Check out the six on your boy.'

Sally squinted to get a better look. Stan was looking surprisingly good. Under all those baggy T-shirts, his body had totally changed: the puppy fat was gone and his chest was round and firm. Molly Sue was right; his abs were amazing. He had those hot muscular line things running over his hips. Boy lines? When had that happened?

‘Someone has been doing his crunches,' Molly Sue went on. ‘Maybe you should call him up for one of your little sleepovers.'

Sally got up and drew her curtains across the window. She covered her ears with her hands. ‘Stop it! That's disgusting!'

‘What? He's hotter than all get out!'

Sally ignored her and went to the bathroom. She twisted the taps on full power, water gushing into the sink.

Molly Sue wouldn't stop. ‘Oh, baby girl! You gotta lighten up, honey! He's a cutie pie and he thinks you're swell!'

Sally plunged her face into the icy water and it felt like a slap she badly needed. Bubbles rippled against her cheek. She closed her eyes and held her breath, blocking out the voice in her head. Maybe she should just hold herself under, make the noise go away. She remained underwater until her lungs were ready to burst. Gasping for air, she pulled her head back and reached for a towel. ‘Just stop,' Sally said. ‘I've had enough.'

‘Fighting talk,' Molly Sue said. ‘You know, now that we're friends, you don't wanna go pissin' me off, darlin'.' There was steel under the sugar coating of Molly Sue's voice.

Sally swallowed the painful lump at the back of her throat. She believed every word.

On Tuesdays, Sally had a free period first session while Jennie and Stan were in sociology. She hadn't been allowed to take that option because her dad didn't think it was a proper subject. Students were
supposed
to register as normal, but only two or three of the strictest teachers applied that rule – you just signed in at the office when you arrived.

Sally waited in bed until she heard her mother shut the front door. On a Tuesday, her mother helped out at the church coffee morning and wouldn't be back until almost lunchtime. Hopping out of bed, Sally threw on whatever clothes were nearest and hurried downstairs to her father's study.

Being a bank manager, Sally's father didn't believe in credit cards, but they did have one they used to book holidays so they'd be protected if the holiday company went bust. Her dad assured her that this was good practice. This sole credit card was kept in the same drawer as her own forbidden bank card. For whatever reason, the PIN number – 0711 – had stuck in her head as the time she dragged herself out of bed on a school day.

The time had come. She'd spent all night thinking this through – she just hoped that Molly Sue had caved to sleep before she had. She slipped the gold card into her pocket.

She got the bus into town – not Saxton Vale, the big town centre. It was a thirty-minute bus ride, but there was nowhere local that could help her. Every minute she sat on the bus she grew more anxious. Molly Sue was uncharacteristically silent. Was she sleeping or merely waiting?

Sally was starting to wonder if there was a bunker in her mind where Molly Sue didn't have access to her thoughts – somewhere behind all the noise in her head there was a locked door. Perhaps some thoughts were remaining private. If Molly Sue could see what she was thinking now, there'd be hell to pay.

The bus rolled through the twee, touristy part of town before heading past the billowing chimneys of the warehouses and factories until it finally reached the drab, entry-level purgatory that was the bus depot. It was a haven for street drinkers, directionless foreign students and angry pram women from what Sally could tell.

Using maps on her phone, she found her way into the town centre and to the right place – a modern-looking building called The Laser Centre. In the window, a picture depicted a blonde woman lovingly stroking her blemish-free skin next to the words
LASER TATTOO REMOVAL, TEETH WHITENING, HAIR REMOVAL
. By the looks of it, she'd had all three.

It didn't matter how much it was going to cost any more. There was a slim possibility her dad didn't even check the card's balance, they used it so rarely. It was pretty crystal now: Molly Sue was capable of doing terrible things. It was a wonder Kyle had survived. However skanky he was, Molly Sue had left him for dead. Sally couldn't control what was happening to her body and it scared her all the way to the bone. So, she had to go. Taking a deep breath, she entered the clinic.

A receptionist in a futuristic, white smock-dress greeted her. ‘Good morning, how can we help you?'

Sally drew herself tall, trying to look older than she was. ‘Hi, there. I need to speak to someone about getting a tattoo removed . . .'

One second she was looking at the receptionist, and the next she was looking down at a car park. From a great, great height.

Sally yelped as her legs wobbled and she teetered over the edge. Dizzy, her knees gave way. She was standing on a narrow concrete ledge. All Sally could do was grip it and hold on for dear life. Now on her knees, she was more stable, but she fought the urge to vomit. Vertigo messed with her eyes, the ground seemed to whoosh up at her.

Oh God! How?
She dug her nails into the ledge, whimpering uselessly. It was so windy at this height. One strong gust and she'd be blown off the ledge.

The fall would kill her. She'd be splattered on the tarmac.

To her left was a shorter drop. Sally took in her surroundings. She was on top of a building or something. No wait . . . she recognised this. It was the car park – the big multi-storey car park in the city. Her dad parked in here if they ever came shopping.

Sally rolled to her left and flopped about a metre onto the concrete. She lay there amongst leaves and cigarette butts for a moment, relishing the sensation of solid ground underneath her body. She hugged herself tight.
What the hell is going on?
She'd been in the clinic one second . . .

‘You dirty little rat,' Molly Sue said, her voice grave. ‘That was a real low stunt to pull, Sally Jane Feather.'

Sally screwed her eyes shut to hold back tears. Wind howled across the exposed top storey. There were only a couple of cars parked up here. She searched for someone, anyone, to help her, but she was all alone. ‘I'm sorry,' she breathed.

‘
Sorry
?' Molly Sue barked, her voice gravel. ‘You're coming at me with
sorry
? Don't think
sorry
's gonna cut it, sugar.'

Sally rolled onto her back and looked up at some stern, steely clouds. They seemed to echo Molly Sue's mood. ‘What else can I say?' Sally said.

‘You were gonna blast me off your goddamn ass!'

‘I'm sorry!' Sally shouted, her voice rattling around the empty car park.

‘I'll give you sorry, you little bitch. You really think that was gonna work? That I'd let ya go through with it? You're
weak
, Sally Feather. You couldn't stop me if you tried.'

Sally realised that Molly Sue must have seized control of her whole body the second she'd stepped into the clinic. The journey from the clinic to the car park was another black void in her memory, just like the trip to the island had been. Sally sat upright, her back against the wall. She still didn't feel altogether whole.

‘Let's get this straight. If you ever pull a stunt like that again, you'll live to regret it. Girl, I will cut me some willow, so help me God.'

Sally didn't know what that meant, but it didn't need clarifying. But then a new thought occurred to her. Molly Sue could hurt her all she wanted but she couldn't
kill
her. She'd said it herself –
where you go, I go
. ‘You can't hurt me. You'd kill yourself.'

‘Nice try, small fry. There's some twenty fingers and toes you'd miss.'

‘You wouldn't.'

‘Don't test me, girl.'

Fingers and toes
. Sally imagined taking her mum's secateurs from the garden shed and snipping above her knuckles . . . she shuddered. An image drifted into her mind. Amputation . . . arms and legs . . . this all felt very familiar.

The homeless guy who'd been killed outside school staggered back into her memory for the first time in weeks. His manic, rolling eyes.
It's . . . it's inside me. Get it out. GET IT OUT
. Get what out? Get
who
out? There was no way . . . both hands
removed
so he couldn't hurt himself. Or where she'd punished him.
Oh, God, no.

‘Well done, darlin'. You figured it out.'

‘It was you. It was you that night.' The eyes . . . those feral eyes.

‘Sure was.'

Sally hugged her knees to her chest. ‘How? How did you do it?'

‘Ah, that'd be telling. Like I told ya . . . I'm a wanderer. I been around a long time, darlin'. Gonna take more than a car to stop me.'

Sally rose to her feet and looked out over the concrete sky merging with the concrete buildings of the city. Cars so small they were like shiny beetles far below. ‘What about a fall?' Sally lifted herself back onto the ledge. She knelt, too scared to stand.

‘Girl, get your ass down.'

‘No. You need me, Molly Sue.'

‘Ha! I don't need no one.'

‘Where will you go? There's no one around.' She'd been the closest. When the tramp got hit, she'd been the nearest – and the one he'd fixed in his gaze. God, that was it. The other homeless guy had steered her deliberately towards the House of Skin but Molly Sue had already infected her – planted enough of a seed to make her think a tattoo was a good idea.
I've figured you out . . .

She had to act quickly in case Molly Sue grabbed for control again. Sally rose to her feet. The wind was stronger than ever. It could so easily carry her over the edge. She wondered how long it'd take to hit the tarmac. Not long at all. She doubted she'd even feel it. It'd all be over: Molly Sue would be finished. Whatever she was, she'd been gone for good.

‘Go on then,' Molly Sue taunted. ‘Do it.'

Sally inched her toe over the edge. Her hair blew about her face, blinding her.

‘Girl, we both know you don't got the stuff. What yo poor mama and papa gonna do? Go to church and talk about their little girl who committed suicide? What about Stan and Jennie?'

A little voice in her head questioned if her parents might even feel unburdened if she were to die. As for Stan and Jennie . . . well they'd have each other. ‘They'll be fine.' Sally balled her hands into fists, geeing herself up to take the final step.
It'll be just like flying . . .

‘No, they won't and you know it. Let's paint us a picture. Without you, Stan fails all his exams, can't get into college, ends up working at a deli in town for ten years or so before he gets himself a nice little problem with liquor. Grief can really mess people up.'

Sally screwed her eyes tight. ‘Stop it.'

‘With you gone, Jennie gets back together with that there Kyle. Back to business as usual. He beats her and he rapes her . . .'

‘I said stop it!' Sally screamed and stepped down off the ledge. Molly Sue was right. She couldn't risk hurting them – even if it meant Molly Sue hurting others.

‘See what I mean?' Her voice was even, matter-of-fact. ‘You are so weak, you can't even kill yourself right. Now, listen up, girly . . . we ain't gonna have this conversation again.'

Sally nodded. She had nowhere to go.

The inside stairwell of the multi-storey car park smelled so powerfully of urine, it burned Sally's nostrils. It didn't matter. At that moment, nothing mattered much. Sally felt like she was turning to cement, each heavy footstep towards the elevator was exhausting. At least Molly Sue had shut up.

You are so weak, you can't even kill yourself right.

Sally sensed she wasn't alone. Was that footsteps? She looked around and saw a figure duck around the corner at the furthest end of the fourth level. She only got a glimpse, but it was enough to recognise the kilt and wimple. It was Sister Bernadette. ‘Sister Bernadette!' Sally called without thinking. ‘Wait!'

There were staircases at both ends of the car park. Sally darted across the fourth level, past the few cars that were parked and reached the left stairwell. She pushed through the doors and hurried past the Pay And Display booth. ‘Sister Bernadette! It's me, Sally!'

This staircase was no less pungent than the other. Below her, Sally heard footfalls slap down the stone steps. Looking down the central shaft, Sally saw the top of her head spiral down the stairs. The nun, evidently, was in a hurry. Hadn't she seen her? Or didn't she want to be seen watching her? Sally chased after her, taking the steps two at a time. She almost fell, tripping over her feet, and had to grab the rail for support. ‘Please wait!' she repeated.

As she reached the ground floor, Sally saw the main exit closing. The sister couldn't be far ahead. Sure enough, once Sally was outside, she saw Bernadette walking briskly across a dreary courtyard of cracked paving slabs and pebbledash bollards. Sally tore across the yard and grabbed her shoulder. Sister Bernadette gave her a shy glance, almost embarrassed. ‘Oh, Sally . . . I didn't realise that was you. I thought it was . . . well I didn't know who it was.'

Sally didn't buy that – she must have heard. ‘I called your name. What . . . what are you doing here? Are you following me?'

Sister Bernadette looked around the concourse. They were alone. Except, of course, they weren't. ‘Very well, I lied. Something for confession later. I saw someone standing on the edge of the car park and I was compelled to help.' Well that was quite the coincidence. Sally went to call her on it, but the nun spoke again. ‘What were you doing up on that ledge, Sally?'

Now it was Sally's turn to be embarrassed. ‘Oh, nothing. I . . . I just like the view from up there.' Sally looked at her feet shiftily. Only a total imbecile would buy that.

‘Ah that makes sense,' she said with that familiar kindness in her eyes. ‘See, I thought there was someone up there about to make a terrible mistake, but I was wrong.'

‘Oh I wouldn't ever . . . '

‘I know, Sally. You're too strong for all that.'

Molly Sue wouldn't agree, Sally thought to herself.

Sister Bernadette gave her hand a squeeze. ‘I have to go, but we shall meet again – when the time comes.'