Page 103 of Don't Tell Teacher

‘Forget it then. Don’t believe me. Adults are bullshit.’ He looks sullen.

‘Is there anything else you want to tell me?’

‘Nothing. Just forget it. Are you gonna tell the police what I did?’

‘I’ll have to write it up. But I’m not going to tell the police. You’re hungry. You shouldn’t have been left without food so long. You’re only eleven. But listen – don’t ever do that again.’

‘Kate?’

‘Yes, Lloyd?’

‘I’m, like, sorry for what I did. I shouldn’t have done it. You’re one of the good ones.’

I sigh. ‘Thank you, Lloyd. It’s very grown up of you to apologise. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, okay? Please don’t burn the house down. I really, really shouldn’t be leaving you, but you need to eat.’

‘Twenty minutes is nothing. Mum’s left us for the whole weekend before.’

‘I know.’ I head out the front door.

When I’m five paces from the house I burst into tears. No one’s ever punched me before.

Stop it, Kate. Stop crying. Get a hold of yourself – you’re an adult.

Anyway, this is a happy occasion. The Neilson boys are going to get their first proper dinner in months.

Lizzie

‘Okay, Tommo?’ I squeeze Tom’s hand. He’s beside me on a hospital stretcher, being wheeled towards the ambulance by a green-suited paramedic. ‘We’re getting out of here.’

‘Are we going home?’

‘Not yet. We’re going to a hospital near home.’

‘Will Granny tell Daddy we’re here?’ Tom asks, a slight quiver in his voice.

‘She wouldn’t mean to, but … anyway, best to move. Nothing to worry about.’

We’re not in the ambulance yet. Not free from danger. And until we’re loaded on and driving away, my chest will be full of bats, beating their wings.

When we reach the ambulance doors, the paramedic says, ‘Hello, Tom. Been in the wars, have you?’ He’s a black-haired man with a lean, toned body.

‘A little bit,’ says Tom.

‘Well, we’re going in this nice big ambulance and then we’ll have a quick drive. Okay? Shouldn’t take too long. Do you like being driven around?’

‘Not really,’ says Tom. ‘I get car sick.’

The paramedic asks me, ‘Are you hopping in the back with him?’

‘Oh. Yes. Of course.’ I climb into the ambulance, strapping myself in beside Tom, and stare out through the blacked-out windows.

Two visitors are approaching the hospital – a younger man and older woman. As I watch, the mechanical ambulance doors whir shut and the tyres start to creep over the tarmac.

The woman’s arm is linked through the man’s. He seems to be pulling her along, faster than her older legs can manage. The man is tall, with longish blond hair around his ears.

It takes a moment.

Then recognition hits me like a hammer.

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