Hanging Hill - Mo Hayder [144]
She phoned and managed to catch Millie on her afternoon break. She said she could sneak out for a few minutes – no one would notice. Sally waited at the gate, clutching her umbrella. She couldn’t help checking around the street to make sure no one was watching her. She wasn’t good at hiding things – she didn’t know how people did it.
‘Hi, Mum.’ Millie’s expression was bright. But when she saw her mother’s face the smile dropped. ‘Oh. Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine. Are you?’
‘No, you’re not. What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’ She ran her eyes over her daughter’s face and hair. She wanted to hold her so much. She wanted to just grab her and carry her somewhere far away from here. She swallowed hard, and said conversationally, ‘How did the test go?’
‘Oh, pants. I revised the wrong page. Doh …’
‘You’ve got prep after school tonight, haven’t you?’
‘Yes. Till five. Why?’
‘Because I don’t want you going home on your own tonight. I’m going to call Dad, get him to pick you up.’
‘He can’t. He’s in London.’
‘Then Isabelle.’
‘She’s at that gymnastics meet with Sophie. In Liverpool. It’s OK, Mum – I’ll get the bus. Don’t worry about me, I’ll—’
‘No! For heaven’s sake, will you listen to me? I’ve just told you – you’re not going home on your own.’
Millie blinked at her, shocked. Neither of them spoke for a moment, embarrassed by Sally’s sudden outburst. From the other side of the wall came the shrieks and yells of the other kids. They all believed they were grown-up, Sally thought, that they knew what they were doing – but they weren’t and they didn’t. Really and truly they were still babies. A car went by suddenly, its brakes screeching, and she jumped as if she’d been shot.
‘Mum?’ Millie frowned, her face curious. Suspicious. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Then you pick me up after school, if you’re so worried. Don’t you finish work early today? You usually do.’
‘I’m not going to work. I’m busy.’
‘Busy? Busy doing what?’
‘It doesn’t matter what.’ She put a hand to her head and pressed hard. She thought of Peter Cyrus’s mother. Dismissed the idea. Tried to think who else she could ask. Who else she could trust.
‘Mum? Is this about what we were saying this morning? About that Metalhead muppet again? Why are you so scared of him?’
‘I’m not. It’s nothing to do with him. Just stay in the school after prep. I’ll make sure someone’s there to pick you up.’
‘Come on, something’s wrong.’
‘It is not,’ she snapped. ‘Nothing is bloody wrong. Now please don’t ask me again.’
Millie shrank back a little, her mouth open. She looked for a moment as if she was going to say something, and Sally took a step forward, wanting to say sorry. But Millie turned on a heel and marched back inside the school gates, leaving Sally standing in the rain, trembling under her umbrella.
Shit, she thought, feeling in her pocket for her car keys. Life really was turning out to be the closest thing to hell.
38
‘I don’t want to do this.’ Zoë drew the curtains and switched on the overhead light. ‘You’re making me do this. So I’m asking you – as a fellow human being – to recognize that.’
Sitting on the chair at the end of the room Ben nodded dully. ‘I recognize you as a human being, Zoë. Maybe more than you do yourself.’
She stood in front of him, unbuckled her boots and kicked them aside. She unzipped the trousers and stepped out of them. Her own knickers were still on the floor at Kelvin’s so she was wearing a pair of Sally’s, which were too wide and flopped around her hips as she undressed. She hiked them up and unbuttoned the shirt, threw it on the floor, and stood a step away from him, arms hanging at her sides. She felt totally foolish.
Ben sat forward, his elbows on his knees, his head up. He was expressionless, his mouth slightly open, as he moved his attention all over her face, over the swollen nose, the bruises on her cheeks, and down, over her bare arms,