Blood Sisters(59)

He’s coming closer. For a minute, I think he’s going to strike me. I wince. Stagger backwards and fall against a chair, hitting my cheek. I go lightheaded. Then my scarf tightens round my neck: the primrose yellow one I’d put on that morning to complement the cardigan.

‘Help,’ I begin to scream. ‘He’s strangling me.’

Crispin’s eyes narrow above me. ‘Shut up!’ he hisses.

‘Help,’ I yell again.

Surely one of the officers has got to hear me? The door opens and a figure stumbles in. Stefan?

‘Get off her,’ he growls. ‘You will not touch one hair on her head.’ He brandishes his stick and rushes forward.

What happens next is so fast that I can barely take it in. Stefan stumbles. There is a horrible hollow crack as Martin grabs the old man’s stick and thumps him on the head. Stefan slumps to the ground. Blood trickles on to the stained carpet tiles.

He looks at me and mouths, ‘Please forgive me.’ Then his eyes close.

‘Help,’ I try to yell, but all that comes out is a whimper.

‘Give me your key.’ Martin is growling.

I shouldn’t do this. I know that. I try to remember what they’d told me during the key talk, but no one had given me hard practical advice on what to do if I was attacked or threatened.

‘If you don’t, I will kill him.’ This time his voice is almost soft. He holds the stick up, right over Stefan’s head.

I look down and see that Stefan is still breathing. I can’t let him do this. Reluctantly, I hand over the keys and he slips them triumphantly into his pocket.

‘We have to get help for Stefan,’ I plead. I have tears in my eyes. I fumble in my cardigan pocket, in the hope of finding an overlooked handkerchief.

‘Stop that. Sit down. Pick up that pencil.’

Shaking, I do as I am told.

‘Now write,’ he says. ‘Tell it as it happened.’

‘What do you mean?’

He is still holding Stefan’s stick. ‘Write down exactly what happened on that morning of the accident.’

‘But – but you know,’ I hiss. ‘You were there.’

‘You’re right. I was. But the rest of the world wasn’t. Well, now they’re all going to know exactly what you did.’

I glance down at the belt round my waist.

‘And don’t think of using that whistle,’ he says softly. ‘Or you’re dead.’





47


July 2001


Ali


‘I want to be with my sister.’ I’d found my voice now but it felt all scratchy and sore. My face was throbbing but I furiously dismissed the pain.

‘Don’t you worry about her,’ said a man with PARAMEDIC on his badge, who was sitting with me in the back of the ambulance. He was applying something cool to my face. ‘Might have a broken nose here,’ he was murmuring. ‘Do you feel dizzy? Sick?’

‘Yes. No. I’m not sure.’ The balloon of panic inside was getting bigger by the second. ‘But what about Vanessa? Is she OK?’

‘Don’t fret about her either. We’ve found the name of your school in your bag. Someone there will contact your folks. Now, let’s take a look at that knee.’

‘Were they hurt?’ I blurted out. ‘The people in the car. The Wrights.’

‘You knew them?’

My head was throbbing so hard that I could barely think. ‘I recognized the number plate.’

Another voice was cutting in. ‘You can talk to the police about that later. Let’s just concentrate on you, shall we?’

They took me to a room in the hospital. It had other beds but they were empty. Kitty was nowhere to be seen. ‘I want my sister,’ I said tearfully.

‘All in good time,’ said the doctor, taking my pulse.

‘They’ve already done that in the ambulance.’

‘We need to check. I know this is difficult but –’

‘Ali! It’s all right. We’re here.’

Mum’s arms were around me. But not David’s. He was clutching the back of a hospital chair. His face white. He seemed smaller than this morning.

‘Kitty,’ I whispered. ‘Where is she? What’s happening?’

Mum sat by the side of the bed, stroking my hands. Her face was red and blotchy. ‘You’ve got to be brave, love. We all have to. Your sister has been put into what they call an induced coma. She’s had some head injuries. It’s the best way, apparently, to let the brain heal itself.’

None of this felt real. ‘How bad is it?’ I croak.

There was a whimper from David. ‘My princess,’ he moaned. ‘My little princess.’

‘It’s quite bad.’ Mum’s hand tightened. ‘Your poor nose. Does it hurt a lot?’

I sensed she was distracting me. ‘And Vanessa?’

‘The police need to interview you when you feel ready. Do you feel up to that, love?’

‘Yes. Please tell me. Is Vanessa badly injured? What about Crispin?’ It was all his fault. All of this. ‘He was yelling something about his mother.’

‘She wasn’t wearing a seat belt. Went through the windscreen. That’s what the police want to talk to you about. What exactly happened, love? Were you crossing the road?’