No, I didn’t want to look at Sephy. Not yet. Not yet.
BREAKDOWN
twenty-five. Sephy
‘You’re thinking about those police officers on the train, aren’t you?’ I asked.
Callum didn’t even bother to deny it. But then why should he? In his shoes, they would’ve annoyed me as well.
Annoyed . . . Come on, Sephy, be honest. You were a lot more than just ‘annoyed’. And they weren’t even picking on you.
‘Why did you want me to remember our trip to Celebration Park?’ I asked.
Callum shrugged, then smiled. ‘Because it was a good day. A day we had all to ourselves once we got to the park.’
That wasn’t true. He’d wanted to say something about our train journey to Celebration Park and my mother not letting him in to see me. Somehow, he felt one was connected with the other. I’m not completely stupid. I’m not as naïve as I used to be either. I’m finally growing up. I wanted Callum to tell me what he was really thinking, what he was really feeling, but part of me was afraid, I admit it. So I nodded noncommittally instead. It didn’t matter what I said to Callum or anyone else; my main memory of that day was of the police officers and how they’d treated Callum and how I’d burned with resentment for him and how I’d been ashamed of them. And myself. I’d felt ashamed of myself a lot recently, and, if I’m honest, part of me resented Callum for it. I didn’t want to feel guilty for just being, but that’s how he was beginning to make me feel.
Suddenly all I had were questions. How come in all the early black-and-white films, the nought men were always ignorant drunkards or womanisers or both? And the women were always near-brainless servants? Noughts used to be our slaves but slavery was abolished a long time ago. Why were noughts never in the news unless it was bad news? Why couldn’t I stop looking at each stranger I passed and wondering about their lives?
I’d started watching people – noughts and Crosses. Their faces, their body language, the way they spoke to their ‘own’ kind. The way they spoke to others who weren’t the same. And there were so many differences, they swamped the similarities. Noughts relaxed around each other in a way they rarely did around Crosses. And Crosses were constantly on their guard when near noughts. Bags got clutched tighter, footsteps quickened, voices grew brisker and brusquer. All our lives crisscrossing but never really touching. A world full of strangers living with all that fear. Nothing was a given any more. Not my life. Not theirs. Nothing.
I can’t remember when our lives had become so complicated. A few years ago . . . or maybe even a few months ago, life had been so easy. But the ache in my chest told me like words couldn’t that those days were over.
‘It was a good day, wasn’t it?’ Callum smiled.
It took me a second to catch up. ‘Yes, it was.’
The truth, but not the whole truth and nothing but.
Say it, Callum. Whatever it is, say it. I can take it. At least, I’ll try . . .
But he didn’t. The silence dragged between us and the moment passed.
‘It’ll be winter soon,’ I sighed.
Winter always made it harder for me to leave the house and meet Callum. Mother accepted my many trips to the beach because as far as she was concerned, I was a dreamer and the beach was where I did my dreaming. Unlike the town house, our country place had minimum security so I could pretty much come and go as I pleased – within reason. And going down to the beach in winter was beyond reason as far as Mother was concerned. To be honest, walking down to the beach in the dark wasn’t my most favourite thing. Dusk and the air heavy with silence and long shadows made me . . . nervous.
‘Who pummelled you?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Who beat you up?’ Callum repeated.
‘Everyone’s asking me that,’ I sighed. ‘Can’t we just let it rest?’
‘You don’t want them to get away with it, do you?’
‘’Course not. But there’s not a lot I can do about it. Sure, I was going to tell the headmaster about them and get them expelled or put drawing-pins in their shoes or jump out at them when they were each alone. I was going to do all those things, but they’re not worth it. It happened and now it’s over, and I just want to forget about it.’
‘Tell me who did it and then you can,’ Callum said.
I frowned. ‘You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?’
‘’Course not. I’d just like to know who did this to you.’
‘Lola, Joanne and Dionne in Mrs Watson’s class.’ I said at last. ‘But it’s over now. OK?’
‘OK.’
‘Callum . . .’
‘I was just curious. Besides, what could I do? They’re Crosses and I’m a lowly nought.’ Callum tugged on his forelock before bowing low.
‘Stop it . . .’
‘Stop what?’
‘Callum, it’s me. Sephy. I’m not your enemy.’
‘I never said . . .’
I took Callum’s face in my hands. ‘Look at me, Callum.’
Only when I felt his whole body relax did I remove my hands from his face.
‘Sorry,’ he said at last.
‘So am I,’ I told him. ‘So am I.’
twenty-six. Callum
When I got home, the house was in uproar – and for once it had nothing to do with me. Lynette was having one of her ‘turns’ and Jude was letting it wind him up, as usual. When I stepped through the front door and heard him shouting at her, I thought, ‘Same old, same old!’
But I was wrong.
For
