The Whole Truth

No wonder Amanda dumped her – it must have been like dating a double agent. If they’d known each other better, perhaps she could have told her, but she was too afraid of the look in her eyes, of what she’d say – what everyone would say if they knew. Her friends, her parents, Beth at work. They’d want to be sympathetic, they’d want to believe – of course they would – but the more she said, the more they’d wonder. The more she’d see the doubt in their eyes. Because, yes, something like this happened once before, and she was wrong about it then, and the guy she accused got no end of shit he didn’t deserve. And no, she can’t be totally sure this time either. She’s never seen his face, never really seen him, not properly. Just an impression, a quick movement, a silhouette, always just out of sight, always just out of reach. It’s all shadows and glimpses and bad vibes. Just like last time.

Only this time it’s different. Because this time it’s true.

If only she could believe it was Hugh Cleland. At least that would be logical, something she could explain. But she knows she would be kidding herself. This man – whoever he is – is thinner, slighter, nimbler. And in any case, he’s been stalking her for weeks. Long before it all blew up with the Clelands.

The ring on the doorbell makes her jump. She holds a hand to her chest for a moment, feeling the beat against the bone. For God’s sake, pull yourself together. Just see who it is, OK? You don’t have to open the door. Not unless you want to. Not unless you know them.

She takes a deep breath and goes down the hall, telling herself to walk with purpose, to get a grip. There’s a peephole in the panelling and she puts her hand to the wood, squinting into the glass. Then she straightens up and smiles a little see-you’re-just-overreacting-again smile.

She takes off the chain and opens the door.

* * *

It’s more like forty-five minutes in the end. The storm broke like Niagara while Nell was in the store and the months-dry roads are awash. Even at twenty miles an hour she can barely see where she’s going – the windscreen wipers just can’t work fast enough and the car’s steaming up inside. The sheer effort of driving in a straight line is making her eyes ache. When she finally turns into their road there’s a blur of red and blue lights up ahead. Up ahead, where they live. She frowns. Don’t be stupid, she tells herself sternly. It’s not us, of course it’s not us –

But it is. The ambulance is outside their house, it’s their front door that’s open.

There’s iron in her chest now – not one of the boys – please don’t let it be one of the boys –

She puts her foot down, loses control for a moment, slides sideways, and the car crunches metal.

Shit

Shit shit shit

She stops the car, throws open the door. Two paramedics are manoeuvring a stretcher down the path.

Not one of the boys. Not Gerry –

Alex.

She splashes down the pavement, soaked in seconds, rain running down her face.

The paramedics are lifting the stretcher now, sliding it into position. Alex’s face is white against the pillow, her eyes closed, an oxygen mask pushed over her nose and mouth.

One of the medics turns and sees her, frowns a little. ‘Are you the sister? She was asking for you.’

‘What happened?’ gasps Nell. ‘Is she OK?’

‘Her waters broke. All happened very suddenly apparently. Your son called us. Just as well he did. Bit of a responsibility though, for such a young kid.’

The frown explains itself now. Nell swallows. Oh my God, this is all my fault. What sort of mother leaves a heavily pregnant woman alone with an eleven-year-old child?

‘My husband was on his way,’ she stammers. ‘Isn’t he here?’

The man shrugs. ‘Got held up. So your son said.’

The other paramedic steps down and nods to her colleague. Nell darts forward and peers up into the back through the rain.

‘Alex? It’s me – everything’s going to be fine, OK? I’ll follow as soon as I can.’

Alex opens her eyes and tries to sit up, reaching out desperate hands, trying to say something, but the second medic is already closing the doors.

‘We need to get moving,’ says the woman. ‘I’m worried about her heart rate – the baby could be in distress.’ And then, to Nell, ‘She asked you to get a message to her husband.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Nell says as they walk back round to the cab. ‘Tell her I will –’

The engine starts up and she takes a step back, blinking away tears. This baby, this longed-for baby, is finally coming and her sister is going to the hospital alone. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

* * *

9 July 2018, 9.26 p.m.