The Hiding Place(74)

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, voice clogged by tears and snot. “I’ve been an idiot.”

“Why?”

“I’m sorry. About what happened, with your sister.”

“It’s okay,” I said, even though it wasn’t.

“It was so crazy down there. I mean, I can’t believe we thought she was, y’know—”

I swallowed a hard lump in my throat. “I know.”

She shook her head again. “You don’t know how much I wanted to talk to you, but I was scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

She pulled her hair across her face self-consciously. “Nothing.”

But it didn’t seem like nothing. The tremor in her voice. The way she was shielding her face with her hair. I suddenly had a feeling:

“Is something the matter with your eye?”

“No, it’s—”

I leaned forward and brushed her hair behind her ear. She didn’t stop me. Her right eye was blue-black and swollen.

“What happened?”

“We argued. He didn’t mean it.”

Anger swelled into a hot ball in my throat. “Hurst did this?”

Hurst was a bastard, but I’d never known him to use his fists on a girl.

“Just leave it.”

“He hit you. You have to tell someone.”

“Please, Joe. You mustn’t say anything.” She grabbed my hands. “Promise.”

I didn’t have much choice. “Okay. But promise me you won’t let it happen again.”

“Okay.”

“Why were you arguing?”

“It was about Chris.”

“Chris?”

“Steve is scared he’s going to say something about the pit. He’s acting so weird. Steve said he’s got something he shouldn’t and he needs to be straightened out. I told him to leave Chris alone. And then I said I wanted to split up and that’s when—”

“When he hit you?”

“He called me a bitch and said no one leaves him, ever.”

Fresh tears welled in her eyes. I wrapped my arms around her and drew her close. Her hair was scratchy; it smelled of hairspray and smoke.

“Joe,” she whispered, “what do we do?”

“I’ll fix it,” I said. “I’m meeting Chris at six in the graveyard. I can warn him.”

She pulled away a little. “Maybe you could talk to him. Tell him not to say anything. Stop with all the crazy shit.”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re good at talking to people.”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine. Then she hopped up. “I should go.”

I nodded, numb with shock.

“D’you want to walk back with me?” I asked.

“I can’t. I have to get some shopping for my mum.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

I watched her go, the memory of her kiss tingling on my lips, thinking about what I’d like to do to Hurst.

Perhaps that’s why I never thought about what I had just said.


—



Dad was semiconscious in front of the TV when I got back. Annie must have been in her room. Mum had left some meals in the freezer. I got one out and stuck it in the microwave. I wasn’t that hungry but I forced myself to eat a bit of the lasagne, downed a Coke then shouted to Dad that there was food in the kitchen and headed upstairs to change.

At the door to Annie’s room, I paused. I used to like hovering at her door sometimes, watching her unawares as she engaged in some imaginary play with her Barbie dolls and my old Action Men, putting on different voices. Now, her door was always closed and the voices inside were different.

This evening I couldn’t hear anything. The silence was worse. I hesitated. But it was dinnertime, Annie must be hungry. I couldn’t rely upon Dad to feed her.

I raised my hand and knocked on the door. “Annie?”

No reply.

“Annie?”

The door opened a couple of inches. I pushed it further, trying not to recoil at the smell. Annie stood on the far side of the room, staring out of the window. She must have run over to the door, opened it and run back. But I couldn’t be sure of that. I couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.

I stepped into the bedroom.

“I’ve just heated up some lasagne.”

She remained still. I suddenly realized that she had on an old sweatshirt but no jeans or panties.

“Well, let me know if you want some—”

She turned. I flushed. Annie was still only a kid, but I hadn’t seen her naked since she was a baby. As if sensing my awkwardness, she smiled. A sly, dreadful thing. She took a step forward, parted her feet and a stream of hot yellow urine gushed from between her legs and onto the carpet.

I felt bile rise in my throat. She started to laugh. I bolted from her room, slammed the door behind me and ran down the stairs. I didn’t care about changing. I just wanted to get away, away from my little sister.

Her laughter chased me out of the house, but now it sounded more like screams, snapping at my heels.