Page 74 of No Safe Place
‘Drinking.’
Wilson’s pen was poised over her notebook, but she didn’t bother writing his one-word answer.
He was tempted to leave it there. To be unhelpful and obtuse and say fuck it, fuck all of them. David was dead, and someone had attacked Sam on his doorstep, and what was itall for? Why were they interviewing him instead of catching the psycho who did it?
But Lily had a wide-eyed panicked look, and he wanted the interview to be over, for her as much as for himself.
He heard David’s voice in his head sayingbreathe, Callum–and a wound opened behind his ribcage. It occurred to him that every time he heard David’s voice, which was several times an hour, recalling his advice and his mantras – the grief would hit him again.
‘Lily and I had an argument. I was pissed off – I wanted to get pissed. I was listening to music.’ He frowned, trying to remember the order of things. ‘Lily left at midnight, maybe?’
Lily nodded, but Field and Wilson weren’t looking at her. Really, he wasn’t sure why they’d let her in here.
They don’t know.
He went to take a sip of water, but his hand was shaking so badly that he had to put the cup straight back down.
‘Okay,’ Field said. ‘That’s good, Callum, thank you. Now let me know if I’ve got any of this wrong – you were drinking beers and whisky, and at around midnight, Lily left the house, and you were there alone.’
‘Cider,’ he said. ‘It was cider.’
Wilson made a note.
Field didn’t seem overly comfortable. Callum imagined she was usually much more together than this, more with it. But maybe the setting, or the fact he was mental – something was throwing her off her game.
You and me both, he thought.
‘Okay. So – my next question. When you found Sam on the ground, why didn’t you call 999?’
Lily stiffened as Field said it, but the army of Maxwell’s drugs swimming through his system must be doing their job, because it wasn’t the gut punch he would usually expect.
‘I couldn’t.’
Field’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? Your phone was in your back pocket.’
Callum didn’t speak.
‘What happened next?’ Field said. ‘As in – I’d like you to expand upon your answer.’
Field didn’t want to waste one of her questions. She was trying to find an OCD loophole. He was all too familiar with the practice.
‘I don’t use the phone, not properly. I can’t explain it, but I just couldn’t do it. That number—’
He couldn’t finish the sentence. A muscle in one eye was twitching, his foot tapping under the table, like his whole body was betraying him, tuning in to the high-frequency note of panic that was vibrating through him.
He was surprised when Field moved on. ‘Thank you, Callum. I know it must be hard to talk about.’
Callum shot a look at Lily, who was staring wide-eyed at Field, like she was a fascinating TV show.
‘Question three – how did you know Sam, and was it via David?’
She’d asked him that at the house. ‘I met Sam in hospital, when we were teenagers.’ He looked around the room. ‘Here, actually – the Maudsley. Different ward, though.’
Wilson and Field exchanged a look and waited for him to carry on. Next to him, Lily cleared her throat.
‘I haven’t seen Sam since we were teenagers.’ He paused. ‘The people you go through that shit with, you don’t always want to be around them when you get better. Or they don’t want to be around you.’
Lily was wringing her hands in her lap, but looked calm otherwise.
