My Sister's Bones(88)

I step out into the garden. It is eerily quiet. As I close the back door, my heart thudding, something rustles in the hedge and I freeze.

‘Who’s that?’ I call, wishing I had my torch with me. ‘Sally?’

Probably just a bird, I tell myself, though my skin prickles as I make my way across the grass.

Why did Sally come here? She’s usually scared of her own shadow. It’s not like her to go running into danger like this.

The door is open when I get there and I step inside.

‘Sally?’ I call. ‘Sally, are you there?’

I hear a muffled sound, like voices speaking underwater.

‘Sally?’ I rush forward.

I don’t see the hole until it’s too late.





44


I fall down some steps and land on cold concrete, winded and bruised. What the hell just happened? I slowly push myself to my knees, clutching my ribs. And that is when I see her.

She is lying on a filthy mattress, tears coursing down her face, and next to her, clinging to her chest, is the boy.

‘Aunt Kate?’

‘Hannah,’ I exclaim, holding my hand to my chest to steady myself. ‘What are you doing here? What the hell is going on?’

I stumble towards them.

The boy starts crying too and it’s then I see the rope tied round Hannah’s wrists. I rush to her and begin undoing it.

‘Hannah,’ I say, speaking quickly. ‘What’s going on?’

I repeat the question but she doesn’t answer. The tears continue to stream down her face.

I undo the knotted rope and she rubs her wrists. The boy stares up at me, his eyes wide.

‘We heard you when you were in the shed that time,’ says Hannah through her tears, holding the boy to her chest. ‘We thought you were coming to rescue us.’

‘Rescue you?’ I say. ‘You mean you’ve been here all this time?’

She nods her head.

‘But who’s the boy?’ I ask.

‘David’s mine,’ she says.

David.

I stand frozen to the floor, trying to take it all in. Then I see something glinting in the half-light. My silver pen. It’s lying on the ground by the bed.

Hannah sees me looking at it.

‘David found it. He brings me presents to cheer me up.’

I feel numb.

‘He likes sparkly things,’ says Hannah.

As I bend to pick up the pen I see a little pile of marbles next to it and I remember the one I found in Mum’s garden.

‘Mum.’

That’s Sally’s voice. I turn round. There’s a mound of old blankets in the corner.

‘Is your mum here, Hannah?’

Her eyes are terrified, looking towards the blankets.

I run over and start pulling at them. ‘Oh my God! Sally!’

She’s been wrapped up, like a child in swaddling. I turn her towards me.

‘Oh, Sally!’ Her face is a mess. She’s covered in blood. It’s in her hair, all over her clothes.

‘Jesus, what happened?’ I cry as I gently put her in the recovery position. She moans softly.

‘He had a knife,’ says Hannah.

I look up. Hannah is standing above me, just staring at her mother.

‘Who stabbed her?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice calm so as not to alarm Sally.

‘Hannah, who stabbed her?’ I repeat but she doesn’t answer. She just looks at me with vacant eyes.

‘Mum,’ murmurs Sally. ‘Is that you?’

Blood is seeping through her sweater in her stomach area. I check her pulse. It’s weak and she’s losing blood fast.

‘We need a cloth to stem the bleeding,’ I say to Hannah. ‘And help . . . we need to get some help.’

I look up. Hannah is still standing there, motionless.

‘Hannah!’ I scream. ‘You have to go and get help now.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Hannah, please.’

I feel something brush my skin and I turn and see that Sally has opened her eyes.

‘It’s okay,’ I tell her. ‘We’re going to get you out of here. You’re going to be fine. Just stay with me.’ I press the blanket against her stomach wound.

‘Kate,’ she whispers. ‘It can’t be. You’re . . .’

Her face drains of colour and I’m worried that, along with the blood loss, the shock of seeing me could send her into cardiac arrest.

‘It’s okay, Sally,’ I say, rubbing her forehead with my fingertips like Mum used to when we were little. ‘Just keep calm. Breathe in and out, just like this, in and out.’

Her eyes are wide, like a child’s, and she doesn’t take them off me as together we fight to keep her alive.

‘Hannah, you need to go and tell someone that we need help,’ I shout.

In and out. In and out.

‘That’s it. Good girl, Sally,’ I say. ‘Everything’s fine.’

‘Paul,’ she says suddenly, grabbing my arm. ‘Paul.’

‘It’s okay,’ I say soothingly. ‘Paul will be here as soon as he can. He’ll be worried about you.’

She shakes her head and her breath starts to rasp.

‘Shh now,’ I say. ‘Remember, in and out.’