Absolution(133)

“Don’t you get it?” Callum pleaded. “She needs you – she’s always needed you. Maybe that’s why she’s taking this so hard. You need to show her that it’s okay to need you, that you’re not going anywhere.”



Ally sat at her kitchen table, staring at the cup of cold coffee in front of her. Questions ate away at her, one after another after another, until she felt hollow inside.

Why hadn’t anyone told her about what happened that night? What would make Callum keep something like that from her? Had dragging her out of the car caused her injury – or made it worse? How should she feel about all of this? Should she be angry, and if so, at who? Jack or Callum? Or both of them?

She pushed the cold cup of coffee away with a sweep of her hand, folded her arms on the table in front of her and laid her head on them, closing her eyes. She heard movement from the kitchen doorway but couldn’t muster the energy to look up. A warm hand rested on her shoulder, squeezing gently. Long hair that smelt vaguely of oranges tickled her ears as Maggie draped an arm around her shoulders and enveloped her in a hug.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Maggie whispered.

She screwed her eyes shut tighter and willed herself to believe her.



Callum knocked on Ally’s front door with more confidence than he actually felt. The longer he stood there, the more he felt the weight of what had happened pushing down on him. When Maggie answered the door, she ushered him in with a wave of her hand, aware he was coming. She reached up to give him a quick hug, anger and disappointment forgotten now.

“Good luck,” she whispered.

He nodded, squeezing her tightly for a moment before releasing her. She picked up her handbag from next to the hall table and made a hasty exit, closing the front door quietly behind her. Drawing a steadying breath, he walked into the living room. Ally sat on the couch, the remote control in her lap. He glanced at the TV in the corner but it wasn’t on.

“Hey.”

She looked up, and there was a vulnerability in her expression that he had not seen for a very long time. The fa?ade that she usually wore – the bravado, the confidence – had been stripped away. He was partly responsible for that and the realisation sat like a heavy weight on his heart.

“We need to talk,” he said gently.

Reluctantly, she nodded. He made his way over to the armchair opposite her, perching on its edge. She seemed smaller somehow, and so much older than her years. A stranger would have taken one look at her and identified that she was hurting, and he was hardly a stranger.

“I’m not sure where to start,” he said, clasping his hands tightly together and squeezing.

“What happened that night? All of it this time. I want to know everything.”

Memories overwhelmed him, crawling over him and pulling him under again. He could almost feel the chill in the air as it was on that night, bringing with it the sense of panic and fear.

“After the car ended up against the tree, Jack and I climbed out,” he began uncertainly. “You were still unconscious and hanging in your seat and we thought you’d be safer there for the moment. I went to try and find the car that hit us, thinking that maybe they could give us a hand. Jack stayed with you. When I got back, he was sitting on the grass and you were lying on top of him,” he said quietly, a shudder of recognition running through him. “There was a really strong smell of gas in the air and he said he thought the car was gonna go up with you inside it, so he had to get you out of there. That’s it.”

It felt weird, talking about her like this. It was as if she were two different people. One Ally was hanging unconscious in the car, the other one was sitting right in front of him, staring at him with hollow eyes and zero recognition.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of that before?”

“Because I thought you had enough to deal with. It didn’t make sense to lay any of this on you then.”

“You could’ve told me later – you should’ve told me later.”

“It didn’t feel like it was the right thing to do then. I was wrong, and I know that now. I’m sorry.”

Devastation shone out of her.

“What would you have done, if I’d told you this back then?” he tried, throwing a safety rope, trying to ease himself back to her, to close this yawning chasm of distrust that had opened up between them.

Instead, she threw the rope back at him, shrugging half-heartedly. “I don’t know, but at least I would have known the truth.”