Michael Robotham - Bleed For Me

‘Why does he wear a helmet?’

‘To keep his brains from falling out.’

She makes it sound so obvious.

Trevor goes back to dusting and rearranging pillows. Sienna swings her legs off the windowsill and sits on a sofa.

‘Do you want to play poker? Nobody else will play with me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I always win.’

‘You sound very confident.’

‘It’s true. People try to bluff me, but I can tell.’

She separates her knees and pushes her dress between them to form a hammock. My left arm swings of its own initiative and almost hits her. Sienna flinches.

‘What was that?’

‘Just a tremor. No need to worry.’

‘You could be a really good poker player - all that twitching and squirming. People wouldn’t know if you had four aces or sweet FA.’

I laugh out loud and her face brightens. Then she shrugs and tilts her head. ‘I like you.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘You’re kind of broken.’

The statement rattles something in my chest.

‘I’m not the one in here.’

Again she shrugs. ‘Do you have a cigarette?’

‘You’re too young to smoke.’

‘It’s not for me. I can swap a cigarette for other stuff.’

‘Such as?’

‘Cans of drink and chocolate bars and stuff.’

On the far side of the lounge Trevor has stopped in front of the TV and is singing along to a commercial for a breakfast cereal.

‘I thought you said he bit off his tongue.’

Sienna looks at me sheepishly. ‘It’s a miracle.’

She quickly changes the subject. ‘Are you going to get divorced?’

‘I’m here to talk about you.’

‘Charlie wants you to get back together.’

‘I know.’

‘Why did you separate?’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘The shaking business?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Julianne didn’t like who I’d become.’

Now the TV is showing a reporter on the steps of Bristol Crown Court. The camera cuts to a police helicopter flying low over the courthouse and images of police on horseback forcing back protesters.

Sienna glances at the screen. ‘Is that where I’m going?’

‘Yes.’

‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘It would help if you told the truth.’

‘The world is full of liars.’

‘That’s not an excuse.’

Her skin is so translucent I can see the veins running down her neck.

‘Did you know you were pregnant?’

Her eyes widen. Something sparks inside them. Fear. Shock. She looks at me with unexpected coldness.

‘I’m not pregnant.’

‘But you were. The doctors can tell.’

Holding my gaze for a moment, she calculates her next move, before slumping back on to the sofa.

‘Who was the father? I know it wasn’t Danny.’

She pulls strands of hair across her forehead and down between her eyes.

‘It doesn’t matter any more.’

‘Who are you protecting?’

‘No one.’

‘Tell me about Gordon Ellis.’

Sienna hesitates.

‘I babysit for him. Gordon has a little boy, Billy. He’s such an angel. You should see him sleeping. He has a Tigger that he takes everywhere with him. He’s chewed off Tigger’s tail and ears so that it looks like a genetic mutant, but Billy guards Tigger like nobody’s business. I made Tigger a new tail and sewed it on. Billy didn’t say a thing. It’s like he thought Tigger had always had a tail and it had never been chewed off.’

Sienna doesn’t want to stop talking because she fears the next question. Eventually she has to draw breath.

‘Did Gordon Ellis rape you?’

‘No!’

‘Was he the father?’

She doesn’t answer.

‘Were you sleeping with him?’

Again she remains silent, but her reaction is one of defiance. She’s not ashamed or embarrassed.

‘Do you love him?’

‘Yes.’ A whisper.

‘Tell me how it started.’

‘You wouldn’t understand.’

She is still toying with her hair, pulling it along her nose, making herself cross-eyed.

‘Explain it to me.’

‘You’re going to say bad things about Gordon. I know what you’re thinking. You think he’s done something wrong.’

‘I’m trying to help you.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re trying to break us up. You’re trying to drive him away!’

She spits the words, turning them into accusations. Lashing out with her foot, she kicks a chair, sending it skidding across the polished floor, where it cannons into the wall. Sienna shrinks at the noise and looks up at me apologetically.

‘How old are you?’

‘Forty-nine.’

‘Do you think there is a proper age for people to fall in love?’

‘I think you have to be old enough to understand what love is.’

‘My mum said that some people never understand love.’

‘That may be true, Sienna, but some relationships are wrong. Gordon Ellis is your teacher. It’s against the law.’

She smiles to herself. ‘You don’t understand. It’s going to be all right.’

‘Why?’

‘Because love always finds a way.’

‘Where is he, this person who loves you so much? He’s left you here to take the blame.’

‘No, he hasn’t. He’s going to rescue me.’

‘He denies having any relationship with you.’

‘He has to do that.’

‘He says you’re a foolish infatuated teenager who imagined it all.’

‘He has to say that.’

‘Did you know that Gordon was married once before? His first wife disappeared. Billy’s mum. She walked out, according to Gordon, but she hasn’t been seen since. She hasn’t contacted her parents or friends. She hasn’t tried to see Billy. Don’t you think that’s strange?’

Sienna has fallen silent.

‘Gordon met Natasha when she was still at school. She was about your age. He was her teacher.’

‘This is different.’

‘How is it different?’

‘He loves me.’

‘Did he tell you that?’

She doesn’t answer.

‘Did he tell you that he was going to leave Natasha, but only when you’re older?’

‘You don’t understand him.’

‘Oh, but I do. I’ve seen a lot of sexual predators.’

‘TAKE THAT BACK!’ she screams, on her feet. ‘YOU DON’T KNOW HIM LIKE I DO. HE COULD HAVE ANY GIRL HE WANTS, BUT HE CHOSE ME.’

Her words come in a hot rush of snot and tears.

‘NOBODY HAD EVER CHOSEN ME. NEVER. NOT ONCE.’

From the far side of the room, the chess player looks up and puts a finger to his lips, asking for quiet. Sienna pulls a face at him and then shrugs, her anger dissipating into a sullen silence. Resuming her seat, she squeezes her hands between her thighs. Her narrow chest rises and falls.

‘I know exactly how he made you feel.’

She doesn’t respond.

‘Do you remember the first day he smiled at you? He wasn’t like the other teachers. You thought he was handsome. Charming. That’s why you blushed when he looked at you and laughed when he told you jokes. You flirted with him. It was innocent. And he reciprocated. He asked about the book you were reading. Talked about your acting. I bet he commented on your curls. You said that you wanted straight hair, but he said he liked your curls and that straight hair was boring.

‘Soon you found excuses to spend time with him, hanging back after class or arriving early. You could talk to him. He listened. You told him about your father, your problems at home, how lonely you felt once your brother and sister had gone. You talked about not belonging in your family - how you felt like you’d been adopted. Did you cry on his shoulder? Did he tell you that he understood?’

‘Stop it,’ she whispers.

‘Pretty soon you were sneaking looks at each other in class and sharing private jokes that none of the other students understood. Gordon left small presents in your locker, treats that he knew you’d find. He found excuses to brush against you and to bend over your desk in class. It felt sweet, exciting, not at all weird or wrong.’