‘He wasn’t, but sometimes in the summer, when Mum was alive, we’d go out and have a picnic out there.’
‘In the graveyard?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Do you want to go, Sally?’
‘No, but I will.’
‘It’s just that, because it was a national story, there might be –’
‘He wanted me to go.’
‘I know, but –’
‘I’m going. Will you and Nadine come too, please?’
‘Of course we will. But –’
‘Thank you. Have you got a date yet?’
‘I was waiting for you to read the letter and decide.’
‘Can we have it tomorrow?’
‘I’m afraid that’s too soon to arrange everything. Perhaps next Tuesday?’
‘That’s nearly a week away.’
‘I don’t think it can be done sooner. I’ll have to warn the guards.’
‘Why?’
‘Lots of people are interested in you, Sally. I guess you don’t realize how unusual it is to burn your father’s body, and there are other things … in the letters.’
‘I guess my birth name is Mary? A few people have greeted me on the street.’
‘Please, don’t buy any newspapers or listen to the radio or watch the news.’
‘Why?’
‘You are headline news and so much of what they are saying is speculation. It would be impossible for anyone to glean the truth. The facts are in your dad’s letters.’
‘I’m not allowed to read another one until next week.’
Angela sighed deeply.
‘I have to go now. Line of Duty is on,’ I said.
‘Okay, love, do you want me to call around tomorrow? Do you need anything?’
‘No, thank you.’ I hung up.
9
The next Saturday morning, I was mopping the kitchen floor when I heard a noise outside and saw a boy on a bicycle passing the kitchen window at the back of the house, cycling over rough grass, heading towards the barn. He was followed moments later by two more boys and a smaller girl who was sitting on the back carrier of one of the boy’s bicycles. It didn’t look safe to me. I’m not good at guessing ages but I thought the boys might be somewhere between twelve and eighteen. Lanky ones and Black ones and freckly ones.
I opened the back door and stepped outside.
‘What are you doing here?’ I called out.
‘Shit, it’s her!’ shouted the lanky one and the small girl screamed. The boys swerved their bikes and pedalled furiously towards the side of the house. ‘Strange Sally Diamond, the weirdo!’ shouted the freckled boy as he disappeared from view. The Black boy was barely looking where he was going and bumped over the shovel lying in the grass. As he did, the girl fell off the back of his bike and banged her head on the shovel’s handle as it lifted against the weight of him and his bicycle. It was like something I had seen on a Bugs Bunny cartoon. He didn’t stop. The boys all sped off.
I expected the girl to cry. She had been screaming hysterically since she saw me. But she lay flat on the grass, still and silent.
I moved towards her cautiously. Her eyes were closed. I put my hand on her face and it was hot. I put my arm around her narrow chest and it rose and fell with her heartbeat. She wasn’t dead. I suspected concussion. Dad had given me a course in first aid, and every year on 1st October we refreshed it. It was to protect myself, he’d said, but he also said I could help other people if I happened upon an accident. I had never happened upon an accident before. I lifted her head and, sure enough, I could feel a swelling at the back of her head underneath her hair. There was no blood. No immediate need for alarm. I picked her up from the grass and carried her, one arm under her bottom, the other cradling her head over my shoulder. I took her inside and laid her down on the sofa in the sitting room. I covered her with a rug to keep her warm, as I hadn’t lit the fire yet, and then went to get ice from the freezer in the kitchen. I emptied a full tray of ice cubes into a clean hand towel and returned to the sitting room. I gently lifted her head and applied the home-made ice pack to the swelling. Her eyes fluttered open, and they widened in shock when they saw me. She screamed again and I knew that she was frightened.
‘Does it hurt?’ I asked.
She scrambled backwards from my touch, and I realized that I hadn’t minded touching or holding or carrying this girl while she’d been knocked out. I held out the ice pack and said, ‘You should hold that to the back of your head and lie still for a while. You are concussed. I’ll have to ring Dr Caffrey. Would you like a glass of brandy?’
She shook her head and then winced.
‘You must try to keep still. Are you pretending not to be able to talk? I do that all the time. Are you like me?’
She stared at me and her eyes filled with tears. She had a pretty little face. After a few moments, her lips trembled and then she said, ‘I want my mum.’
I sighed. ‘So do I, but I only noticed recently, after my dad died. Is your mum alive?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice grew more high-pitched. ‘Will you ring her, please?’
Ah. A question. A question I didn’t like. I didn’t like speaking on the phone to strangers.
‘I’ll ring Dr Caffrey and she can ring your mum, okay?’
‘Okay.’
I remembered that children love sweet things. ‘Would you like a chocolate biscuit?’
‘Can you ring my mum first?’
‘Fine.’
I went to get the phone from Dad’s study and brought it back into the sitting room. She was sitting up now on Dad’s chair on the other side of the room, but she held the towel of ice to her head.
As I was about to ask for her number, she asked, ‘Can I ring Mum myself?’
That seemed like a good idea. I passed her the phone. She dialled furtively. I don’t think she wanted me to see the number.
‘Mum, can you come and get me, please? … I’m in –’ she looked up at me – ‘Strange Sally Diamond’s house … Yes, I know. She’s here … In the room with me. I was on Maduka’s bike. He cycled away and I fell off … I don’t know where he is … please come and get me … hurry … no,’ she whispered, ‘but she asked me if you were dead … I don’t know … Maduka and Fergus and Sean wanted to see where she – you know –’ she looked up at me again – ‘where she did it …’
Then a stone came crashing through the window of the room and landed at my feet. I looked out to see the two white boys picking up stones from the gravel drive and hurling them towards the window. The girl ducked down in the chair. The back of the chair would shield her from flying glass.
I ran to the front door.
‘Let her go!’ said the freckled boy.
‘She is concussed because you, Maduka,’ I pointed to the Black one, ‘dropped her off your bike and she hit her head. She’s on the phone to her mother right now.’
‘Oh man, I’m going to be in so much trouble.’
‘You’ve broken my window. Drop those stones right now.’
‘Killer Sally Diamond!’ said the lanky one, but they dropped their stones.