out.
‘Here.’
The three of them stood around the breakfast table. The spotlighting made it look like they were hatching a plot. Billy stared at the liquid in his glass then looked at Charlie, who had downed his already and was refilling it.
‘We did the right thing,’ Charlie said.
‘Did we?’ Billy stared back at his glass.
Charlie took Billy’s glass from him and set it on the table. He pulled a chair out. ‘Sit down.’
Billy sat. Zoe took the chair next to him, Charlie across the table. Their three glasses made sweat marks on the scuffed pine.
‘We didn’t have any choice,’ Charlie said. ‘There’s nothing we could’ve done for him.’
‘We should’ve reported it,’ Billy said.
Charlie took Billy’s hand across the table. ‘Look at me.’
Billy lifted his head. His brother’s eyes were cold.
‘What would’ve happened if we’d called the police?’
Billy didn’t speak.
‘What would’ve happened?’
Billy shook his head.
‘We would all have been arrested. Breathalysed. Drug tests. Prison. No jobs, no future. Criminal records. You would’ve got it worst, you were driving.’
Zoe took Billy’s other hand. ‘Charlie’s right. I don’t like this any more than you do, but reporting it wouldn’t have made any difference.’
Holding hands like this felt like they were holding a seance.
‘Think about Mum,’ Charlie said.
The mention of her made Billy snatch his hands from theirs and reach for his glass. The cold tumbler felt good against his nettle-stung hands. He downed the vodka, a viscous burn in his throat and chest. Almost five years. A massive stroke, she never regained consciousness. Him and Charlie still kids really, early days at Uni, only each other to cling to.
‘Don’t bring her into it.’
‘She always wanted to be proud of us, and she would be. I’m a doctor, you’ve just landed a proper job. Want to throw that away because of a stupid accident?’
Charlie topped their glasses up. Billy grabbed his and gulped. He lowered his glass and stared at Charlie.
‘Do you actually think we’ll get away with it?’
Charlie held his gaze and shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘What about the taxi driver?’
‘What about him?’
‘He saw the car.’
‘He won’t have been paying attention. It was just a car parked at night. And it’s dark. Even if he did notice anything, there must be hundreds of red Micras in this city.’
Billy shook his head. Zoe reached out and gently stroked his hair, lifting it up at the hairline over his temple.
‘How’s your head?’ she said.
Billy reached up and touched her hand, their interlocked fingers playing over the bump. It felt like an alien egg implanted in his skull.
Charlie went to the freezer and took out an ice tray. He popped the cubes into a tea towel, folded it up then smashed it against the worktop, crushing the ice inside. He pulled it tight then put it against Billy’s temple and placed Billy’s hand on it.
‘Keep that there as long as you can.’
The cold of it stung, sending shivers of pain across his head and down his neck. He realised one side of his face was still numb and began prodding it with his other hand, kneading the flesh. All the while, an itchy pain sparkled across his hands from the nettle stings.
Zoe rubbed his shoulder. ‘Are you OK?’
He jerked away from her touch. ‘Sore neck.’ He tried to crick it.
‘Probably whiplash,’ Charlie said.
He dug into his pocket and came out with a handful of blister packs. He sorted through them on the table, picking up one with MXL on it. He pushed out two large orange capsules and slid them across the table.
‘Take these.’
‘What are they?’
‘Painkillers.’
‘What kind?’
‘Good ones. Just take them.’
Billy took the capsules and swigged them down with vodka.
Charlie sifted through the blister packs on the table and lifted one with Sonata printed on it. He popped half a dozen lime-green pills out on the table, split them into twos and pushed the pairs in front of each of them.
‘These will help us sleep,’ he said.
He took his, as did Zoe. Billy felt a bolt of icy pain come from the compress on his head. He looked at them both. He felt Zoe’s hand on his leg, trying to be comforting. He remembered her touching him the same way in the car earlier.
He lifted his capsules, put them on his tongue, and washed them down with vodka. He sat back and waited to feel something.
*
‘Hold me,’ Zoe whispered.
They were in bed, almost dawn outside, thin light bleeding through the curtains.
She nestled into him as he lay on his back and stared at the cornicing. She lifted a leg across Billy’s, brushing his crotch, then ran her hand up the inside of his thigh to his boxers.
‘I want you inside me.’ She kissed his ear. ‘Forget everything and come inside me.’
She went to pull his shorts off but he put a hand on hers.
‘Don’t.’ He looked at her and saw that she was scared too. ‘It’s the pills, I can’t.’
She lifted her hand to his chest and snuggled in. ‘Don’t worry, baby. Just hold me.’
He lay for a few minutes until he heard her breath deepen and slow, then he slid out from her embrace and crept downstairs to the bathroom. He took out Charlie’s FHM from the cupboard under the sink and sat on the toilet. He flicked through the pages for a while then dropped the magazine on the floor. He put his head in his hands and began to sob.
3
Something was trying to drag him out of a sleep hole. His phone. His phone was ringing.
He opened gummy eyes. He was sitting in the old chair in the corner of the bedroom in his shorts. The room was warm already, sunlight in spears through the gaps in the curtains. He scrunched his eyes and blinked a few times, getting used to the light.
His head and neck throbbed, the skin on his hands was puckered and red. He felt his temple. The bump had shrunk but hardened. He found his jeans and took his phone from the pocket. It said ‘Rose’ on the screen. He pressed answer.
‘Now before you say anything, Kiddo, I know you’re not supposed to be in today, but we’ve got a belter of a tip-off, and I thought you’d want to see some real-life reporting for once, instead of just rewriting boring press releases.’
‘Morning, Rose,’ Billy said.
