forty-five. Sephy

Minnie was reading one of those ‘ten ways to get your man’ women’smagazines that are incredibly, tediously boring! But Minnie’s sixteen –two years older than me – so I guessed it was only a matter of time beforeI started reading that stuff too. Right now though, I had other things onmy mind. I licked my lips, nervously.

‘Minnie, what are we going to do?’‘What d’you mean?’My sister was being either really thick or really evasive.‘Mother. Her drinking’s getting worse,’ I said.‘She’s just smoothing out the rough edges,’ Minnie smiled wryly as

she answered with Mother’s often repeated line, trotted out whenever wetried to bring up the subject of her drinking.

‘Any smoother and she won’t have to walk places, she’ll just roll,’ Ifrowned.

‘You tell her that,’ Minnie challenged.My sister was no use at all. I huffed impatiently so she’d get the

message, but her nose was already back in her magazine. Mum’d been athome for a while now and she was steadily getting worse. She spent a lotof time in her room. And when she did emerge it was always to smotherus with kisses and tell us how much she loved us before she made herway to the wine cellar or the kitchen. Funny how she always reeked ofexpensive perfume as she smothered us with hugs and kisses. It was aclose-run thing to say which was the most overpowering – her perfume orher kisses. Or maybe her attempts to prove to us that she wasn’t drinkingany more. She wasn’t fooling anyone.

Because it was so obvious. She was growing more and more out of it.Sadder and lonelier – and worse.

And there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it.

forty-six. Callum

Saturday. It was eighteen days and five months after Lynette’s death.Funny I should think of it that way. The days before the months. Mysixteenth birthday in February had come and gone, with a card and a booksigned from both Mum and Dad, but bought and wrapped by Mum. Ithadn’t been much of a birthday. No-one had felt like celebrating. Andsitting round the table cutting the birthday cake had been a silent affair –because Lynny wasn’t there. The winter had come and gone and springhad arrived – and nothing had changed. Funny that not a single daypassed without me thinking about Lynette. When she was here, she sooften just seemed to fade into the background, like something that’salways there but you never really think about. Like air. But now that shewas gone . . .

Lynette’s secret still hung heavily over me, like a shroud. No-oneknew the truth about her death except me. And with each passing day, thelonging to tell someone grew stronger. There was Sephy, but each time Itried to tell her the truth about my sister, the words just wouldn’t come. Itfelt like I was being disloyal to not just Lynette but my whole family bywanting to tell Sephy and no-one else. On the spur of the moment, Iheaded for the phone and used our signal to phone Sephy’s house. Withinfive minutes she was phoning me back.

‘Hello you,’ I said.‘Hello yourself,’ Sephy replied.‘So what’re you up to today then?’ I asked. I had to keep my voice

down because Mum and Dad were upstairs. Jude was out – as per usual –so I was taking this opportunity to use the phone. I was hoping Sephywouldn’t have anything planned so that we could spend this Saturdaytogether.

‘I’m going shopping! With Mother!’ Sephy wailed.

‘Poor you.’ I had to struggle to keep myself from laughing out loud atSephy’s tone of voice. She hated shopping at the best of times. And as forshopping with her mum, that must be her idea of hell on earth.

‘It’s not funny!’ Sephy snapped.‘Of course not,’ I soothed.Sephy gave a very undignified snort down the phone. ‘You’re

laughing at me again.’‘As if.’‘What’re you going to be doing with the rest of the day then?’ Sephy

asked me.‘I thought I might go to the park, or maybe the beach. Maybe I’ll do

both. I haven’t decided yet.’‘That’s right, rub it in.’‘Just think of all that lovely money you’re going to spend,’ I told her.‘Mother’s going to spend it, not me. She’s decided she needs some

spending therapy,’ Sephy replied.‘Well, if you can’t get out of it, get into it!’‘I’d much rather be with you,’ Sephy admitted.There it was again, that familiar twist in my stomach whenever she

said things like that to me.‘Hello?’ Sephy said, uncertainly.‘I’m still here. Maybe we can meet up later this afternoon?’ I

suggested.Sephy sighed. ‘I doubt it. Mum wants to buy me some dresses and

update my school uniform and she wants to buy herself an evening dressand some shoes. Just the shoes by themselves will take three or fourhours at least.’

‘Why? Has your mother got duck’s feet or something?’

‘No, just a duck’s taste in shoes. I swear, Callum, it’s going to betorture!’

‘I might see you at the shopping centre actually. I’ve got to get somethings for school,’ I said.

‘Like what?’‘Pens, rulers and I was thinking of buying myself a new calculator.’‘I’ll keep my eyes open for you,’ Sephy said. ‘Maybe I’ll see you at

the café? You can stop me from going completely insane!’‘If I miss you at the centre, how about getting together this evening

then? We could have a late picnic on the beach. Around six o’clock?’‘I’ll try but I can’t guarantee anything,’ Sephy said.‘Fair enough.’‘Saturday in the Dundale Shopping Centre,’ Sephy groaned. ‘Just

shoot me now and put me out of my misery!’Laughing, I said bye and put the phone down. And then I thought of

Lynette again – and the laughter stopped.

forty-seven. Sephy

‘D’you like these shoes?’‘Yes, Mother. They’re really nice,’ I smiled.‘But those burgundy ones with the thin straps were better, weren’t

they?’‘What burgundy ones?’‘The ones we tried in Roberts & Miller,’ Mum replied.That was four shoe shops ago.‘Well, I really like these ones,’ I tried.‘I think I’ll go back to Roberts & Miller and try on those burgundy

ones just once more.’Aaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!

forty-eight. Callum

Lunch was over, without too much grief – for once. Jude had come homefrom heaven only knew where so we’d all eaten together – which made achange. Mum indulged in small talk, telling us all about what ourneighbours and relatives and friends were up to, whilst Jude was his usualeffervescent, scintillating self and didn’t say one word. No-one wasparticularly bothered that I didn’t have much to say either. Before I’dswallowed my last mouthful, my knife and fork clattered onto my plateand I jumped up. Grabbing my jacket off the back of the sofa, I headedfor the door.

‘Where’re you going?’ Mum asked with a smile.‘The shopping centre.’Jude leapt up like a scalded cat. ‘Oh no you’re not.’I frowned at him. ‘I’ll go where I ruddy like. Since when is it any of

your business where I go?’‘Callum, you don’t want to go there. Not today,’ Jude said, nervously.‘Jude?’ Mum stood up slowly.A tense, watchful atmosphere entered the room like chilling fog.‘Why shouldn’t I go?’ I asked my brother.He didn’t answer.‘What’s going on?’ I persisted.I turned to Mum. She was staring at Jude, a stunned look on her face.

From her expression, she was obviously well ahead of me.‘Don’t go there, Callum,’ Jude told me, pointedly.‘But . . .’ And only then did I click.The Liberation Militia were planning something at the Dundale.

Something Jude knew about. Something my brother didn’t want me

anywhere near. And then I remembered.‘Sephy’s at the shopping centre,’ I said, horror-stricken.‘Callum . . .’ Jude began.I didn’t wait to hear any more. I ran out of the house, leaving the front

door wide open as I raced for the shopping centre.

forty-nine. Sephy

Mother was driving me nuts! In our five long, long hours together, I’dbitten my tongue so many times it’d swollen up to the size of a footballand was choking me. If she asked me for my opinion on one more pair ofshoes, I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions. I sipped my orangejuice, grateful for the short but welcome break away from her. She’d goneback to the car park to pack away her various purchases. She wasenjoying herself. I’m glad one of us was!

‘Sephy! Thank God! You have to get out of here.’‘Callum!’ I beamed. ‘Where did you spring from?’‘Never mind that. You’ve got to leave this place now.’‘But I haven’t finished my drink . . .’‘Never mind your ruddy drink. You have to leave – NOW!’I looked at Callum then, really looked at him. He was scared. No . . .

he was terrified.‘What’s going on?’‘Don’t argue. Out!’ Callum told me grimly. ‘Come on.’Callum dragged me out of my seat and towards the café door.‘Excuse me, love, but is this boy troubling you?’ a stranger asked as I

was dragged past his table.‘No! No, he’s a friend of mine,’ I called back. ‘He wants to show me

something . . .’Callum dragged me out of the café and along the concourse and then

every alarm in the world went off, at least that’s what it sounded like.‘What’s going on?’ I asked, looking around.‘Move it. Come on.’

And we were running towards the nearest exit. Others around us werelooking around and frowning, wondering what was going on. Maybe theysaw Callum and I racing for the nearest exit, maybe we started it. I don’tknow. But it seemed like moments later, everyone was shouting andracing for the exits. We were amongst the first ones out of the Dundale.We stumbled out into the spring sunshine and still Callum had hold of myhand and was pulling me after him.

‘Where’re we going?’ I asked breathlessly.‘Run. Come on,’ Callum puffed from beside me. ‘I thought I’d never

find you. It took me almost half an hour to find you. Move.’‘Callum, I’m getting a stitch,’ I protested.‘Tough. We’ve got to keep going.’‘Callum, enough!’ I pulled my hand out of his. ‘You’re . . .’Then there was a flash like the very air was alight, followed a fraction

of a second later by the most colossal boom. I was blown off my feet andinto the air like a dry leaf in a high wind. And even from where we were,I could feel an intense heat on my back. I landed flat on my face, myarms outstretched. There was a strange ringing sound in my ears and itwouldn’t stop. For I don’t know how long, I lay in a daze. Was I dead?Was this what it felt like to die? I closed my eyes tight and covered myears, trying to block out the incessant ringing sound – only it was insidemy head, not outside. I swallowed hard and my ears popped, and theringing stopped. Twisting around, I turned to see what on earth hadhappened. Billowing smoke shot out of the shopping centre. For amoment it was eerily quiet, like the end of the world. I wondered panic-stricken if the explosion had deafened me. And then I heard screamingand sirens and all hell was let loose.

I turned to Callum, who lay stunned beside me.‘Are you OK?’ You’re not hurt?’ Callum asked anxiously, running his

hands up and down my back and arms.

‘Y-you knew that was going to happen . . .’ I realized, aghast. ‘Youdidn’t . . . Tell me you didn’t . . .’ I shook my head. No, that waspreposterous. Callum had nothing to do with whatever that explosion was.It must’ve been a bomb. But Callum didn’t do that. He wouldn’t. Hecouldn’t.

But he knew.‘Mother! Oh my God!’ I jumped to my feet and raced towards the car

park across the street from the shopping centre.I was almost across the street when I remembered Callum. I turned

around.But he was gone.