My Sister's Bones(83)

‘Stop it,’ I yell, putting my hands over my ears. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘What did I say about putting your hands over your ears?’ he screams and I bring my hands down to my side, silently counting in my head, trying to drown his words in numbers.

One, two, three, four . . .

‘Again and again and again,’ he says. ‘Up against the wall, on the floor, in the kitchen, on your bed . . .’

Five, six, seven, eight . . .

‘Every time you went out she would look at me with those big blue eyes of hers and I’d be putty . . .’

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve . . .

‘But then we weren’t very careful, were we, Hannah?’

I stop counting and look up at him.

‘We had a little accident or rather she had a little accident.’

He’s stroking Hannah’s face now with the back of the knife. My stomach lurches.

‘A teenage mum,’ he says. ‘Just like you.’

My head grows tighter and tighter like there’s a band wrapped round it.

‘Monster.’

It’s all I manage to get out of my mouth. There are no more words.

‘A little boy,’ he says, ignoring my outburst. ‘A sweet little baby. That’s why I had to get Hannah out. I needed her to be in a safe place, away from you and your drunken moods. God knows what you would have done to her if you’d found out.’

The anger I’ve been holding in for the last hour pours forth and I leap up, only stopping when I see the knife twitch.

‘What would I have done to her?’ I scream. ‘I would have protected her, I would have taken her away from you. I would have f*cking ripped you apart. You’re a psychopath.’

He sits, eerily calm, watching me. Then he starts to laugh.

‘Here she is, Hannah,’ he cries. ‘Here’s the real Sally. A violent, unhinged old drunk. Here’s what I saved you from.’

Then he calmly gets to his feet and pushes Hannah back into the chair. Holding the knife in front of him, he steps towards me.

‘You know what, Hannah?’ he says, staring into my eyes as I step backwards. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think it’s mental torture that your mother needs, it’s a bit of roughing up. You always wanted that, didn’t you, Sal? Always felt left out when your dad belted your sister, didn’t you?’

He grabs my hair with his hands and pounds his fist into my eye. I scream and stagger back. The pain is excruciating.

‘That’s why Kate goaded your old man, isn’t it?’ he says, standing over me as I crouch on the floor, my hands shielding my eyes. ‘Because she liked it when he hit her, didn’t she? She liked it because it meant she got some attention. And you were jealous because you wanted some attention too. But I think a bit of your dad’s violence rubbed off on you. Remember the wine bottle? Kate really liked that one, it got her right on my side.’

I take my hands away from my face. And as I look at the deep red smears on my palms and taste the metallic blood in my mouth, I see Paul’s face bearing over me that night. Him standing there with the bottle in his hands; me crouched on the floor just like I am now. And it comes back to me. Paul smashing the bottle. Drawing the edges up his arm, laughing all the time.

It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it.

‘You’re a liar,’ I mumble as I stagger to my feet.

‘What’s that?’ He steps towards me.

‘I said you’re a liar.’

‘Oh look, Hannah,’ he says, a grin spreading across his face. ‘The little champ’s come back for a second round. What will it be this time, Sal, fists or something stronger?’

He waves the knife at me and I try to focus on its silver blade. I’m not scared any more. I can take whatever he wants to dole out if it means keeping Hannah safe. He can kill me, I don’t care, as long as she gets out of here alive.





41


I can’t breathe.

He’s sitting on top of me, one arm holding me down, the other pressing the knife against my throat. I can’t speak, I can only listen to him as he tells me how he plans to kill me.

‘What do you think, Hannah, eh?’ he says. ‘What does Mummy deserve? A cut or something a little slower?’

I hear whimpering on the far side of the room. It’s little David. I want to call out to him, to reassure him, but Paul seems to sense this and presses harder on my chest. I’m trying to piece it all together, everything he’s told me. Trying to put it into some sort of order in my head. I have to know before I die.

‘What about the phone call?’ I say, remembering Hannah’s voice on the line, telling me she was safe. ‘I spoke to her. She said she was fine.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ he says, leaning his face against my cheek. ‘That was nice, wasn’t it? We had a little day out in London, didn’t we, Han? And I said, I know, let’s phone your mother and tell her that you’re fine. Just a little white lie so she won’t be worried. But you weren’t worried, were you? Any other mother would be, but you? You were happy to see the back of her.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Of course it’s true,’ he says with a mocking smile on his lips. ‘What did you say to me? She’s a big girl now, she can do what she likes. You f*cking disgrace.’