Fifteen Days Without a Head Page 14

  The first question is a hard one, but Keith doesn’t even wait for Baz to ask it a second time before he fires back the answer. You can hear the surprise in Baz’s voice, but he’s pleased too. This is perfect for them. Maybe this is what they wanted all along—for me to get right down to the last question. Just one question away from winning the holiday, and then fail. Bring somebody new in and the whole thing starts all over again.

  I’m hardly listening as Keith answers question number two correctly. Baz is building him up now, reminding him that if he gets the next one right, he’s won and I’m out.

  I’m out.

  Finished.

  It’s all over.

  Suddenly I’m tired.

  I just want to sleep.

  Baz’s voice seems to come from a long way away, as he asks Keith his final question.

  ‘In the cartoon series Ben 10, what SECRET organization is Grampa Max a member of? Is it A: The Agency? B: The Plumbers? Or C: The Omnitrix? Are you a FAN of Ben 10, Keith?’

  ‘N-no,’ says Keith.

  A brief spark of hope glows in my chest.

  ‘My s-son watches—it.’

  And dies again.

  The answer is B: The Plumbers. I watch Ben 10 with Jay. All the kids watch it. It’s an easy question—everybody knows the answer.

  Except Keith.

  ‘C—The Omnitrix,’ he says, and I have to stifle a yelp of joy.

  ‘Daniel,’ says Baz, ‘you TOLD ME you were feeling lucky—I SHOULD NEVER have doubted you! You’re BACK in the game!’

  Baz runs through the rules of the shoot-out again. If I answer this one, I’ve won.

  ‘You know what,’ he says. ‘I’m not even going to ASK how you feel. I’m just going to read out the next question. That GOOD for you, my friend?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  My ears are filled with the sound of pumping blood. I put my hand on Jay’s shoulder and he reaches up and takes hold of my fingers. Back-up, I think.

  ‘Daniel,’ says Baz. ‘Which of the following UNFORTUNATE creatures will not die—EVEN if you remove its head? Is it A: a crab? B: a cockroach? Or C: a chicken?’

  What’s that phrase—running around like a headless chicken? There was an episode of Scooby-Doo where Shaggy and Scooby were chased by a bunch of ghostly headless chickens—but that’s not the answer. I know the answer. Even if I didn’t, it’s the one I’d choose. Because it’s got my name all over it—

  ‘A cockroach, Baz.’

  This time Baz doesn’t do his silent thing, or his quiet voice like he’s about to tell me I’m wrong. This time the phone explodes with cheers and klaxons, and Baz is shouting over the din.

  ‘Daniel, my friend—it gives me GREAT pleasure—to announce that YOU—are the WINNER—of Baz’s—Bedtime—BONANZAAAAA!’

  I think he’s waiting for me to speak, but I can’t.

  ‘One ALL-expenses-paid, LUXURY holiday for you and your family—courtesy of our friends at Hardacre Holidaze,’ he says. ‘It’s yours, Daniel. Well done, my friend. VERY well done indeed.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I manage. Then I look down, just in time to see Jay throw up all over my foot.

  The clock says 03:35 a.m. It’s dark. No noise from outside.

  Jay’s sitting up in bed, wide-eyed and staring. He says he’s going to school and he’s all stressed out because he can’t find his book bag. I tell him it’s the middle of the night, but he’s not listening.

  ‘Where’s Laurence?’ he says. ‘I want my brother.’

  ‘I’m here, Jay.’ I put my arms round him, but he pushes me away.

  ‘No! I want my brother!’ He’s looking right at me—his eyes are huge and full of fear. He doesn’t know who I am and it’s freaking me out.

  Suddenly he lurches out of bed and staggers around the room.

  It reminds me of Mum, drunk.

  I guide him back and he lies there, with his knees tucked into his chest, shuddering and staring at nothing. His face is slick with sweat, and I can smell the heat coming off him.

  Angie said he had a temperature, that he needed to see a doctor.

  I go into the bathroom and open the little cupboard above the sink. Inside, next to the pink razors and an old toothbrush, are bottles of medicine and packets of pills. Most of them have got Mum’s name on, and NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN stamped across the label. I don’t know what they’re for and I’m not sure I could get Jay to take anything anyway. I’m wasting my time.

  When I go back into the bedroom Jay looks even worse. His whole body is vibrating. It’s like something in a cartoon—when Scooby-Doo gets scared and jumps into Shaggy’s arms. He’s shaking like crazy and you can hear this comedy bone-rattling sound—except this isn’t funny.

  What if there’s something seriously wrong? Jay could be dying of some disease and I wouldn’t know. What’s that one they have the adverts for? Meningitis. How do you tell if someone has that? Something to do with a glass and spots … I can’t remember!

  I need to get help.

  I could phone Mina—but it’s the middle of the night. What’s she going to do? Jump on her bike and ride all the way over here? And then what? She’s not a doctor—she’ll just tell me to call an ambulance.

  There’s no other choice.

  I stumble into the hall and it’s the glare of the light that stops me—the ordinariness of it.

  If I call an ambulance that will be it—

  The end of everything for both of us.

  First the doctors—

  Then the police.

  There’ll be no escape after that.

  I grasp a lungful of air … and let it out slowly. I need to calm down.

  But I shouldn’t have to deal with this on my own. It’s not fair! What the hell am I supposed to do?

  I hear Jay coughing in the bedroom and remember why I’m standing here.

  Shut up, Laurence! Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

  I go back to the bathroom and splash some water on my face, and something in my brain makes a connection. Jay’s hot—I need to cool him down. I remember Nanna fetching a cool flannel once when I was ill—laying it on my brow—how good it felt.

  There isn’t a flannel, so I get a wad of toilet roll and fold it over, then run it under the cold tap. The paper disintegrates in my hand.

  I swear—and look around the bathroom for something else I can use. There’s a towel hanging on the back of the door. I grab it and soak the corner with cold water, squeeze it out, then take it into the bedroom.

  I sit on the edge of Jay’s bed and lay the cool cloth on his forehead. He doesn’t seem to notice me do it, just lies there twitching. He looks so frail with his dirty feet and skinny ankles sticking out from the bottom of his pyjamas. Every breath sounds like there’s something loose inside his chest.

  If he gets much worse I’ll have to call an ambulance—

  But how much worse?

  I don’t notice the time, or the room starting to get lighter, until my stinging eyes flicker against the intrusion. I’m struggling to stay awake. My back hurts from sitting in one position for so long. I slide to the floor, resting my head on the bed so I can still hold the towel, and let my eyelids drop.

  I wake up with the sun screaming through the window—heat sucking the air from the room.

  Jay’s asleep and the towel on his forehead is completely dry.

  My body is a bag of bones, my head made of dough.

  I crawl over to my bed in search of sleep, but the room is too bright, too hot.

  Then Jay wakes up and starts crying. His head hurts and he’s got a tummy ache.

  I try to give him a cuddle, but he pushes me off and says he wants Mum.

  ‘Mum’s not here.’ I lean against the bed, eyes closed.

  ‘Where is she?’

  Has he forgotten everything?

  ‘I told you! She’s not here.’

  I keep my eyes closed, but I can feel him looking at me, hear his rasping breath. ‘I want Mum.’

&
nbsp; ‘So do I.’ I open my eyes and the room flashes like a headache, so I close them again. ‘She’s gone, Jay. She didn’t want to be here any more so she’s gone. It’s just you and me.’ I can hear him, smell the staleness and bad breath coming off him; feel the heat of him beside me. It’s suffocating.

  He starts to cry quietly, sniffing between sobs.

  Something snaps inside me.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ I stand up and my brain knocks against the inside of my skull.

  Jay looks up at me, his face a bloated ball of misery. I despise him for being weak and young and pathetic and ill—for causing me so much trouble. If I was on my own, I’d be out of here by now. If it wasn’t for Jay, I’d be long gone.

  His eyes are pleading, full of hurt and surprise, but that just makes it worse, makes it easier to walk away.

  When I leave the room he starts to cry harder, louder. It tugs at the deeply rooted decency I’m trying to bury, but that only makes me angrier, more determined. I stomp around the flat with my fists clenched, teeth clamped together, breathing through my nose in tight, sharp bursts, but there’s nowhere to go. No escape from the sound.

  I need to get out—get away.

  I make it as far as the front door before it hits me what I’m doing.

  Thinking like her.

  Behaving like her.

  I wake up on the settee with the TV blaring. My neck hurts. I sit up and every joint in my body howls.

  Jay is at the opposite end of the sofa, cocooned in his duvet. He still looks like one of the undead, but that’s an improvement on earlier.

  I stagger along to the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. The puddle from the toilet is halfway to the door. I should mop that up … later. I wonder what time it is. How long I’ve been asleep. The sun is still trying to burn its way through the curtains, but it could be anytime. This day already feels like two. Maybe I slept through the night and it’s tomorrow now. So what would that be, Saturday or Friday? Does it matter?

  Something in the foggy depths of my brain is trying to fight its way to the surface. Something about Saturday … to do with Mum. Then I remember: Mum’s meeting with Nelly. Nine o’clock sharp.

  I stumble into the bedroom. The clock says 11:51 a.m. I’ve either missed it, or it hasn’t happened yet. I go into the kitchen and switch on the radio, but the noise is like needles jabbing at my brain. I turn it off and fill the kettle. Maybe some strong coffee will help.

  I need to go back to the canal and talk to Mum. I’ve got to tell her about the holiday—get her to come home and stop Nelly from calling Social Services. But Jay’s not well enough to go anywhere and I can’t leave him on his own.

  I’ll phone Mina—ask her if she’ll come and stay with him again. I’m halfway to the door before I remember that Mina will be at school.

  There’s nothing I can do. Except wait. But I hate waiting. I feel trapped in here. Helpless.

  I pick up the bag of shopping and hurry through the door. I only meant to leave Jay for a couple of minutes while I got some food, but there was a queue—I’ve been ages.

  The sunlight drills into my brain as I step outside. I’m not looking where I’m going, my eyes half-closed against the glare, rushing to get back upstairs.

  I don’t see Angie until I almost walk into her.

  ‘Laurence!’ she says, sounding almost as surprised as I am. ‘What a coincidence! I was just popping up to see Mum. Is she in?’ Angie starts walking up the steps towards the Heights.

  ‘No!’

  She stops and looks back at me, with this weird expression on her face, smiling and frowning at the same time.

  ‘Mum’s out.’

  Angie walks back down towards me. ‘Not at school today?’

  For a moment the sun glints off the gold crucifix resting on Angie’s pink neck, blinding me. I’m the vampire again, cowering, stumbling away from the light.

  ‘I wasn’t feeling so good,’ I mumble. ‘Mum said to have another day at home.’ It’s so obvious I’m lying.

  ‘What did the doctor say?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘About James. Did Mum manage to take him last night?’

  ‘Yeah! Course. Um …’ I shrug. ‘A virus or something. Same as what I had. He’s got some medicine.’

  ‘Jolly good.’ Angie smiles. ‘You’re looking after him while Mum’s out then.’

  ‘Yeah! Just getting some food.’ I wave the bag of shopping as proof.

  ‘How long will Mum be? Maybe I could wait. Pop up and see James.’ She starts up the steps again.

  I can’t let her back in the flat. There are too many lies holed up in there. Five minutes with Jay and she’ll know everything.

  ‘She’s only just gone out. She’ll be ages.’ I run past Angie, so I’m between her and the front door.

  She stops and stares at me—not smiling any more. ‘Laurence.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yeah! Fine.’ My voice comes out all high and squeaky.

  ‘You would tell me if anything was wrong, wouldn’t you?’ Angie puts her hand on my arm. It feels warm and slightly moist. My skin starts to sizzle.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I know Mum’s had … problems.’ Angie’s eyes bore into me. ‘I understand. I’m here to help.’

  I can feel my face melting. ‘Yeah. Thanks. But we’re fine. Honest.’ I’m grinning, shrugging and nodding, all at the same time. She probably thinks I’m having a fit.

  Angie lets go of my arm and gives me a final meaningful look.

  ‘Would you ask Mum to give me a little tinkle later, Laurence love—she’s got the number. I haven’t seen her for such a long time. I think we need to have a little bit of a catch-up.’

  ‘Yeah. Course. Will do. Bye.’

  ‘Goodbye, Laurence.’

  She stands on the steps and watches me all the way up the stairs.

  So that’s two of them now—closing in on us like a pair of perfumed Rottweilers.

  ‘What’s that noise?’ Jay looks up at me from the living room floor.

  There’s another thump on the door, followed by the buzzer. Two short jabs then a long burst.

  ‘It’s just Nosy Nelly. Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘What does she want? Is she coming to look after us?’ Jay’s eyes widen.

  I shake my head. ‘She just wants to talk to Mum.’

  ‘Oh,’ says Jay. Then he sits up. ‘Is Mum here?’

  ‘No.’

  He slumps back onto the floor. ‘When’s she coming home?’

  ‘I don’t know. Soon, I hope.’

  I haven’t told Jay about Mum and the boat. I want it to be a surprise. Also, it’s two days since I went to the canal—I’m starting to worry that she might not be there any more. All the more reason why we need to go back today. But first I have to collect the holiday—so we can give it to Mum when we get there.

  We get the bus into town. Jay still looks like a ghost, but it’s not far to walk from the stop. I tried calling Mina, but her mobile went straight to answerphone. I left a couple of messages, but she didn’t call back, so I had to bring Jay with me. It’s already the afternoon. We’re running out of time.

  And there’s another problem—a fatal flaw in my Great Plan: how exactly is the long deceased Daniel Roach supposed to collect his prize? It’s one thing impersonating a dead man on the radio, getting him to make a personal appearance is something else altogether.

  For a while I toyed with the idea of dressing up, but somehow I didn’t think I’d be convincing enough. I’ll dress up as my mum, but not my dad—work that one out. So, after much deliberation and careful weighing up of the options—on the bus ride over here—I’ve come up with a plan … sort of. It’s so lame, I’m hoping it might just work.

  We get off the bus and my stomach feels like a jar of wasps. The Radio Ham building is just across the road. I crouch down next to Jay, so my face is level with his.

 
; ‘OK, Scoob! This is a really important mission,’ I say, doing my Shaggy impression. ‘And I need you with me—for back-up! OK, pal?’

  Jay stares at me. For a moment I think he’s not going to play along, then he nods and says, ‘OK!’ in his Scooby-Doo voice, which is surprisingly good.

  ‘Great! Now listen—whatever you hear me say in there, don’t worry, it’s all part of the plan. But you mustn’t say anything, OK?’

  Jay frowns. ‘Why not?’ he says, in his own voice.

  ‘Because we don’t want them to know who we are. This is a secret mission. Undercover.’

  ‘What’s undercover?’

  ‘Um … secret.’

  ‘You already said that.’

  ‘I know.’ I’m sweating and it’s making my hair itch. ‘Look, just don’t say anything—OK?’

  Jay nods.

  ‘Thanks, pal!’

  I stand up.

  This is never going to work.

  The woman at the reception desk glances up as we walk in.

  ‘Good afternoon! Can I help you?’ She looks bored.

  ‘Hello.’ I almost launch into my Scottish accent, then remember I’m not Daniel today. ‘Um … my dad asked us to come and collect his prize.’

  The woman’s pencilled eyebrows concertina. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘My dad—Daniel Roach. He won the holiday. On Baz’s Bedtime Bonanza.’

  ‘Ah!’ She picks up a telephone. ‘What was the name again?’

  ‘Daniel Roach.’

  She nods and punches three numbers with the end of her biro. ‘Hello? I’ve got Daniel Roach in reception. To collect his prize?’ She nods, then puts the phone down. ‘Take a seat. There’ll be somebody down in a minute.’

  There’s a line of chairs with big square, squashy cushions against one wall, alternately red and blue—the Radio Ham colours. Me and Jay sit side-by-side underneath the framed photo of Baz. I was right when I guessed he was the one with the glasses on the end. I wonder if he’s here—if it’s him that’s coming down.

  My heart is flapping around inside my ribcage like a trapped bird, and I’m sweating. It’s stuffy in here, the sun roasting through the huge glass front of the building. There’s a fan on the end of the desk, but it’s pointing straight at the receptionist. I try to concentrate on the live radio feed coming through the speakers—it’s a travel update—no problems on any of the major routes around Hardacre and Marston. That’s good.