Jenny Downham: You Against Me

Her mother sat next to her and leaned in close. ‘Stop worrying, love. Your brother’s safely in the car on his way home.’

‘What if the police change their minds?’

‘It’s been through Crown Court. There’s no going back.’

‘What if they suddenly get new information?’

Mum shook her head, smiling confidently. ‘Dad’s got everything under control and we’re going to get through this, you wait and see.’

Ellie wanted to believe her, but sometimes when she closed her eyes she saw things that felt impossible to get through. She saw Tom taken in for questioning, pale and scared as they led him away. She saw the van parked in the driveway with SCIENTIFIC SERVICES written on the side, and the scene-of-crime officers in their black clothes walking out of the house with Tom’s laptop, his bed sheets and duvet in plastic bags. Then there were the lads in the car who watched everything from the lane, so you just knew it would be all over town by morning. She saw the officer put a padlock and tape on Tom’s door and heard him say, ‘Don’t tamper with it, please, this room is a crime scene now.’ And Dad said, ‘Surely we have rights in our own home?’ Mum sat on the stairs and wept. Tears washed into her mouth.

Ellie concentrated on trying to calm the nerves in her belly. It was as if something was stuck there and needed to come out. She looked around the garden at the empty tables and stacks of chairs, at the boxes of lanterns waiting to be hung, at the ladder leaning against the fence, and she wished more than anything that it could be just the four of them tonight – back in their old house, miles from here, with a takeaway and a DVD.

Mum nudged her, as if reading her thoughts. ‘It’ll be fine, Ellie, really it will. We’re getting our Tom back. Let’s try and be happy today.’

Ellie nodded, but couldn’t quite look her in the eye. ‘Mum, can I tell you something?’

Her mother’s smile died at the corners, her whole body stiffened. ‘You can talk to me about anything, you know that.’

‘Karyn McKenzie’s not taking her exams. In fact, she’s left school.’

They sat in awkward silence for a minute. Ellie gnawed on her lip. She should have kept quiet, but it was hard holding on to so many things. Sometimes the smaller ones slipped out.

‘I had a friend,’ her mother said, ‘who got attacked by two men and dragged into a car. She didn’t make it up, it really happened. It was terrible and brutal, but she used it as a turning point and changed everything about her life.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means,’ her mother said, standing up and brushing nonexistent fluff from her trousers, ‘that you make your own luck. Now I’m going to talk to the marquee man. If you hear the car, shout for me. I want to be there when he arrives. And if you’re stuck for something to do, put some balloons up.’

Sometimes Ellie imagined Karyn McKenzie as monstrous – cloaked and hooded and laughing maniacally as she clawed Tom down into a sulphurous pit. In real life she knew she was tall and skinny with long dark hair and she lived on a housing estate across town. She fancied Tom, had done for ages apparently. She was clearly desperate for him to notice her that Saturday night, with her red-hot nail varnish, purple lipstick and flaming orange mini-skirt stretched tight around her thighs. At school she had a reputation for being good at Art and pretty much crap at everything else. It did seem crazy to give up your exams though – even a few GCSEs could lead to college and maybe a career of some kind. If you gave up in Year Eleven, then the whole thing slid away from you for ever.

A girl walked by carrying two silver tea trays. She was Ellie’s age, maybe a bit older, dressed in a black skirt and white shirt. She stopped in front of Ellie, said, ‘You’re the sister, right?’ She leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘What’s it like then? Must be weird for you.’ She was wearing a lot of make-up.

Ellie said, ‘Haven’t you got work to do, or something?’ Then she stood up and walked round the side of the house to the driveway.

Sometimes it felt physical, as if walls were moving slowly towards her. Sometimes it felt psychological, a strange panic in her brain, which meant if she had to live in this nightmare for one more minute she’d self-combust. The only way she knew to deal with it was to switch off and think of something else, which was becoming increasingly difficult. Walking away was a whole lot easier. She didn’t go far because she didn’t have a coat on, just up the gravel drive to the electric gate. She pressed the button, waited for it to slide open and stepped through. The lane was churned to mud and patched with dirty puddles, the first few daffodils trembled on the grass verge. The gate shut behind her.

This was the lane she watched from her window every night, wondering when Tom would come home. Trust me, his letter said. She’d wanted the words to take off from the page and circle the sky. Bold, neon words swooping low over town, skimming shops and houses before sweeping up the coast road to hang permanently above the sea. Trust me . And everyone would read the words and have faith. The court case would be dropped and they’d all go back to normal.

But faith was hard to hold on to. After twelve whole days and nights, Ellie was unravelling. She couldn’t sit, couldn’t stand, found it difficult to concentrate on anything. The day was moving quickly, every minute hurtling forwards; even the hours she’d spent doing revision had rushed by.

A cloud passed the sun then, and darkness came skimming down the lane, creating a dark pool of shadow at her feet. A dog barked from some neighbour’s garden and almost immediately the cloud shifted and the world glared so brightly that she had to shield her eyes. When she could see again, her dad’s car was cornering the lane. And, like a magic trick, Tom’s face was at the window, grinning at her.

Ellie whooped. She couldn’t help it, it came bursting out of her as the car drew near.

‘He’s here!’ she yelled, and her mum must’ve been close by, because she came running round the side of the house waving her clipboard.

‘Open the gate, Ellie, let them in!’

Here he was, like the Pope, stepping out of the car and into the garden. Mum ran to him, laughing, and he opened his arms to her. They swayed together for a moment as if they were dancing. Ellie was surprised at how tender it was.

She felt strangely shy of him as he looked over their mother’s shoulder and smiled at her, as if she’d become an adult in the last fortnight and this was her house and he was the guest. He looked different – thinner maybe.

Ellie said, ‘They let you out then?’

He laughed as he ambled over. ‘The police wanted to keep me, it’s true, but I told them I missed my sister.’ He put an arm round her and squeezed her for a moment. ‘You OK?’

She smiled. ‘I am now.’

His eyes slid back to the car, to Mum heaving his rucksack out of the boot, to Dad unloading the suitcase. It was the case he’d taken skiing. Strange to think it had been in an aeroplane and all the way to the Alps as well as to the young offenders’ unit in Norwich.

Dad wheeled it towards them. ‘Take a look over there, Tom, at what your sister’s done.’

Ellie felt embarrassed as her dad pointed out the banner strung along the fence. It had taken her three afternoons, but it seemed a bit cheesy now. She’d painted the four of them under a rainbow with a giant heart around them. At the top, she’d created a family coat of arms with the motto TOM PARKER IS INNOCENT. But the whole thing was beginning to rip at the corners where she’d tacked it to the fence. It looked more like a tatty old bed sheet than something she once cared about.