Guidance documentation

28

fumbled before grabbing the pocket blade. She rushed back out, slamming the door behind her.

Throwing her coat on as she went, she almost stumbled down the five flights to the ground floor and rushed out into the street. It was a bright, sunny Sunday afternoon and there were plenty of people out walking, mostly families and couples, nothing out of the ordinary. Glancing all around, she part-jogged the three blocks to Alex’s apartment building so that by the time she pushed her way in through the heavy glass door she was panting. Maybe she should have tried calling him. She checked her phone. No more messages.

Slowing as she walked the narrow ground-floor corridor to his door, she peered back over her shoulder. But there was no one in sight. She took out the knife, flicked the blade as quiet as possible, then carefully put her hand and the knife back in her pocket. She placed her ear to the door but could hear nothing inside, not even the TV or Alex’s retro record player. As she eased down on the handle, the door clicked softly open. Her heart rate surged; the pulsing throb in her jaw returned as if it had only just been hit. He always kept his door locked.

Taking the blade from her pocket again, she stepped into the room, keeping the door open in case she needed to get out quick. The curtains were shut but as it was a bright day the room was still light enough to see no one was there. Her sneakers sank into the spongy carpet as she tiptoed across the floor to Alex’s bedroom. The door was open and she could see his bed, the duvet cover thrown back, the bed empty. She peered around the door toward the bathroom, but there was no sign of him there either.

Back in the sitting room an empty plate and coffee cup lay on the table as though he’d just been having breakfast. She put her hand to the cup. Still warm. Something buzzed in the kitchen and she jumped and spun round, holding the knife up in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat as she peered closer to the kitchen counter, on which the one-inch screen of Alex’s watch was lit up with a picture of Charlotte, his sister. Sada waited for it to stop buzzing. Now was definitely not the right time for chit chat.

But at least now she knew what she had to do. She’d noticed it from the corner of her eye as she stepped into the kitchen. Her hands trembled almost out of control and she fought the desire to turn and run, call the police instead, instinct and experience telling her she’d be better leaving them out of this.

She clutched the blade in her palm and turned to the basement where the door had been left open. If Alex were down there, and if for some bizarre reason he’d taken off his watch and left it out here on the kitchen top, then he would have

come back up on hearing it buzz. And if he wasn’t down there, the door would be closed and locked. Fear gripped her chest. She clamped her hand over her mouth to stop from making a sound. At the top step, her legs shook with the effort of taking her where she was terrified to go.

By the fifth step, she saw him.

‘No!’

Her legs gave way beneath her, dropping her to the step. The blade slipped from her fingers and clattered down the stairs. His back was to her but there was no movement from his body except for a gentle sway from side to side, accompanied by the creak of the ceiling board holding all his weight. She reached for the bannister, heaving herself up again and stumbled down the rest of the stairs.

Rushing to him, adrenalin forcing her into action, she grabbed at his legs, tried to push him up, take the weight off the noose, but for how long and what good would it do. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t conscious.

‘God. God,’ she repeated, trying to think.

She spun round, grabbed the pocket blade from the bottom step where it had landed and pushed the armchair over to him. Standing on the chair she stretched but couldn’t reach high enough. He swayed her way and she caught a glimpse of his face. His skin white, lifeless.

‘Don’t you dare, Alex! Don’t you fucking dare.’

She stepped onto the arm of the chair but still it wasn’t enough to reach the noose that dropped barely ten inches from where it was tied to the light fitting. She leapt back down, her gaze jumping from one thing to another around the room.

Spying the boxes of A4, she rushed to grab first one and then another. She placed them side by side on the armchair and climbed on top. Gasping and sobbing, she at last caught hold and began to saw through what she recognized as the rubber belt from the printing press.

‘Come on!’ she yelled, sobs choking in her tender throat.

It took a while but bit by bit the knife began to slice through. She reached down and pulled his body against her with one arm while she hacked at the belt with the other, not quite knowing how she was going to be able to hold him, just frantic to get him down one way or another.

‘Help me out, Alex. Please. Please!’

Both her arms ached with the strain but finally the rubber began to tear itself and under the weight of both of them it gave way. He dropped heavily and she went with him, crying out as they hit the edge of the armchair before sliding to the floor. Ignoring the jolt to her already sore body, she lay him down flat and

scrambled to rip what was left of the noose from his neck.

‘Alex. Alex.’ Her fingers fluttered over his bruised skin, trying to find a pulse.

‘No.’ Her head fell to his chest. ‘Please, no.’

With tears dropping to his t-shirt, she tilted his head back and opened his mouth.

Putting her ear to his lips, she tried to calm her quivering breath enough to listen for the merest sign of his, but she could neither hear nor feel one. She squeezed her eyes tight. Too young, he was too young for this.

‘No, kiddo, you’re not doing this.’ She shook him. ‘You’re not leaving me. Come on, Alex. Come on!’

She scrambled in her coat pocket for her cell phone and with fumbling fingers managed to dial the numbers she needed.

He had urged her to leave before anything else kicked off. Is this what he meant?

Had he been preparing for this? She scanned the room but saw no evidence of their undercover operation, no leaflets left hanging around, no practice pieces in the bin. Had he cleared it away so she wouldn’t be implicated? All that was left was the ancient, oversized and now malfunctioning printing press, the one they’d hoped might be the beginning of something new, some change, some savior.

Her body began to tremble all over. She looked back to the boy who had depended on her for guidance, who had seen in her a reflection of his own embittered rage and had taken comfort from that mutual recognition. She’d thought that by sticking close to him she could protect him. But had she in fact done just the opposite, shepherding him directly into the face of danger?

As she waited for the paramedics to arrive, she placed her shaking hands upon his sternum and started compressions on his fast cooling, lifeless body.

*

‘My god, what happened to your face?’

Sada hadn’t wanted to call him but all of a sudden she’d been terrified. For Jess as much as herself. She jumped up from her seat in the private waiting room as Marcus came in through the door, relieved at last to see a familiar face. But then she saw he’d come alone.

‘Where the hell is Jess?’ She looked over his shoulder to see if she was dawdling outside the room.

He held up his hands. ‘Woah, it’s okay. She’s downstairs.’

‘Fuck’s sake, Marcus. Are you sure? Are you sure she is?’

‘Of course. I just left her there.’ He stepped closer but she backed away. ‘Sada.

She’s fine. She’s being looked after in the children’s center. Probably parenting half

a dozen kids as we speak.’

She looked at him a moment, trying to decide what to do. The memory of her attacker’s voice flashed into her mind, his lips on her neck.

‘I have to get her.’ She hurried forward, but before she could get to the door Marcus caught hold of her arm.

‘Hey, it’s okay. She’s okay.’ He held up his watch. ‘Look. I’ll call her. I’ve given her my old phone.’

He tapped a number into the screen and held the watch up so they could both hear it connecting. She stared at the screen through tear-filled eyes. On the third ring, Jess’s picture appeared.

‘Hi Dad. Have you found Mom?’

The tears spilled over at the sound of her daughter’s voice, and her legs gave way.

As she sank to the floor, she barely heard Marcus’s reassuring words to Jess but in an instant he was there, his arms wrapping round her. Out of instinct she began to resist his comfort, but with little fight left to push him away this time she gave in and rested her head upon his shirt, his body warm in contrast to the coolness of Alex’s. She closed her eyes.

‘I didn’t bring her up here,’ he whispered into her hair, ‘because I didn’t think you’d want her knowing what happened.’ His heart beat against her cheek. A strong and steady rhythm. ‘What the hell’s going on, Sada?’

She shook her head, ruffling his shirt. ‘I don’t know. They’re still working on him.’

‘That’s not what I mean.’ He tightened his arms. ‘Who hurt you?’

Despite his best attempts to keep her there, she pulled away. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she eased herself from the floor to a chair.

‘That’s not important,’ she said, tucking her hair behind her ears, her voice thin and uneven.

‘You look terrible, Sada.’

She heard the irritation in his voice; that she was keeping something from him.

‘He looks a hell of a lot worse.’ A sob caught in her throat as the image of Alex’s lifeless swaying body came back to her.

‘Course. I’m sorry.’ He reached for her hand but she pulled it away. His palm dropped with a slap against his jeans and he sighed. ‘I’m just worried about you.’

‘And I’m just worried about him.’

Marcus rose from the floor and strode to the water cooler in the corner of the room. He filled two plastic cups and brought one over. She muttered thanks but as the cool liquid hit her throat, she remembered about the bruises. She reached up to

tug at her high-neck sweater, making sure he wouldn’t see what was beneath. A bruised face she might now be able to wriggle out from under the circumstances, but a bruised neck wasn’t fooling anyone. She knew she only had two choices. Tell him everything and he would at best call the police before hiding her and Jess away in his apartment; at worst take Jess away from her because she was becoming a danger to herself and everyone around her. Or, she could tell him nothing and take his daughter far away from this city, to safety, and as quickly as possible.

‘I just can’t believe it,’ Marcus interrupted her thoughts. ‘He didn’t seem the type.’

Sada looked up with heavy, weary eyes, ready to rebuke his unhelpful platitude, but then realized that would only lead to telling him the truth. Not just about the Movement and the tribes and the gangs. But the truth about what she’d found on the back of Alex’s head as she’d cradled him in her arms before the paramedics arrived. The truth about the message he’d supposedly sent meaning she got there while his coffee and his body were still warm, when he still had the smallest chance of pulling through. The truth that she was so far out of her depth right now that she was losing control. And the greatest truth of all, that she was about to risk hatred and embitterment from the one person in her life she would do absolutely anything within her power to protect.

29