‘Neither do I, but I’m worried.’
‘Of course you’re worried.’ Billy looked back at Jeanie, felt the soft ruffles of her fur through his fingers. ‘You should be worried. Your boyfriend is a murderer.’
Zoe stopped rubbing his neck. ‘Don’t say that.’
‘It’s true.’
‘Look at me, Billy Blackmore.’
He lifted his head a little.
‘In the eye.’
He held her gaze.
‘You are not a murderer, got it? What happened to you could’ve happened to any of us, to anyone. It was an accident. We should’ve reported it, maybe we could’ve saved his life, maybe not. But it would’ve ruined our lives, Charlie was right about that.’
‘It’s already ruined our lives.’
‘Not if we don’t let it.’ Her voice was pleading. All he seemed to hear these days were pleading, desperate voices.
‘It’s ruined my life.’
‘You have to snap out of it.’
Billy laughed. ‘That’s your answer? Get over killing someone by snapping out of it?’
‘Look, I know whatever I say is not going to be enough to make you feel any better. That’s why I think you should take the pills Charlie gave you. He says they’ll help with how you’re feeling.’
‘Charlie says, Charlie says.’ He sounded like a little kid in a huff.
‘He’s only looking out for you.’
‘Looking out for himself, more like.’
‘How can you say that?’
‘Because I know him better than anyone. He’s worried I’ll lose the plot and confess and put him in the shit, that’s all he’s concerned about.’
‘That’s not true. If I thought that was true I wouldn’t go along with him.’
Billy looked away. ‘You two seem awful friendly these days.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean, Billy? Come on, think about what you’re saying. You need to rest.’
‘And take my medicine, right?’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘We’re going round in circles here.’
He got up to leave but Zoe held his wrist.
‘Remember the tartan taxi,’ she said.
This was a game they played. Revisiting their first kiss. It used to cement their feelings, now it seemed like a reminder of what was lost.
She pulled him on to the bed and he let himself be drawn in. Her smell was sharper than Adele’s, her skin softer and more familiar, her eyes, just different, so very different from Adele’s. He tried to remember the first time, in the back of a lurid cab after some student thing on campus. He kissed her now and she responded, pushing against him, her fingers running up his neck and through the back of his hair. But all he could think about was the body lying on the road, the tick of the car engine, the sudden pain flashing across his head and down his spine. He thought of Adele as he felt Zoe’s tongue in his mouth. This was an unholy mess. Pain bore down across his temples as he kissed Zoe, his hands stationary, his body stiff like rigor mortis.
Jeanie barked, an inquisitive, friendly noise. It was the first time he’d heard her bark. He pulled away from Zoe and looked round. Jeanie was standing by the bed, tail wagging, watching them.
‘I can’t,’ Billy said. ‘Not with Jeanie here.’
‘So put her out the room.’
‘I don’t want to do that.’
Zoe shuffled across the duvet. ‘Fine.’ She swung her legs off the bed and stood up, staring at Billy. ‘I’m going to get something to drink. I’ll leave you two alone.’
She stomped out as hard as she could in bare feet and slammed the door. Jeanie jumped at the noise, her head darting round and back, ears flat on her head.
‘It’s OK, girl,’ Billy said. ‘Everything’s fine.’
*
He was woken by a noise. He sat up. It was humid in the pre-dawn light. Whining and whimpering, the scratching of wood from inside the room.
He shook his head free of sleep and looked round. Jeanie was pacing in a tight circle by the bed, making a keening noise, a horrible plaintive cry.
‘What’s the matter, girl?’
She didn’t seem to hear, just kept walking round and round. She was in a daze, head down, following an untraceable scent.
‘Do you want out, is that it?’
He didn’t know anything about dogs. What was she doing?
He got up and opened the bedroom door. Jeanie didn’t respond, just kept walking. She bumped into the chair and headed in another direction, zombie movements, slow, deliberate. She was still making the same noise, an unsettling, primal cry of discomfort.
‘What is it, girl?’
He walked over and stroked her but she didn’t acknowledge him. Her tail was pointing rigidly downwards. She bumped into the bedside table and turned. Her front legs wobbled a little. That crying sound, like nothing Billy had ever heard.
‘What’s happening?’ Zoe said, sitting up.
‘It’s Jeanie, something’s wrong. She doesn’t seem right.’
The dog made a noise as if the air had just been hammered out of her lungs, then her legs collapsed and she crumpled on to the floor next to her basket. A tremor shot through her limbs and she began convulsing, her chest heaving in and out, all four legs jerking in jolting spasms. It was like a huge electric current was passing through her body. There was a sharp whip-crack noise, and Billy saw her jaw snapping in time with the convulsions through the rest of her body. Her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth and her teeth were digging at it. Her eyes had rolled back in her head, only the whites showing.
Billy scrambled towards her and grabbed hold of her snout. He tried to pull her teeth apart, get his hand in between to stop her biting her tongue off. There was a froth of saliva along the edge of her mouth as he prised her jaws away from each other, enough to get his hand inside. Blood oozed from a wound on her tongue. Her teeth dug into Billy’s hand, one set on the back, the other sinking into his palm. He held his breath at the pain. With his other hand he tried to calm her, stroked her side and head. He was talking to her, reassuring her, not sure even what he was saying, just trying to keep his voice low and calm, despite everything.
And then it was over. Jeanie’s jaws relaxed and her body slackened. Her eyes cleared. She jumped up looking confused and backed away from Billy.
‘It’s OK, girl.’ He extended his bleeding hand towards her.
She didn’t recognise him.
‘What’s happening?’
Zoe shook her head. ‘I don’t know. A seizure of some kind?’
‘Did your dogs ever do this?’
‘No.’
Jeanie was back to padding around, bumping into things, her head and tail lowered, sniffing at nothing.
‘Jeanie,’ he said.
Nothing. He turned to Zoe. ‘She’s not responding. She can’t see me or something.’
Jeanie gradually got more agitated, then began making the same noise as before, a painful and confused whimpering. As she walked, the noise got louder and more frantic. She didn’t know where she was, kept bumping into things.
Zoe dug out her phone. ‘I’ll call my dad, he’ll know an emergency vet.’
