BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Title Page
  5. Intoroduction
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EITHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. SIXTEEN
  22. SEVENTEEN
  23. EIGHTEEN
  24. NINETEEN
  25. TWENTY
  26. TWENTY-ONE
  27. TWENTY-TWO
  28. TWENTY-THREE
  29. TWENTY-FOUR
  30. TWENTY-FIVE
  31. TWENTY-SIX
  32. TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. TWENTY-NINE
  35. THIRTY
  36. THIRTY-ONE
  37. THIRTY-TWO
  38. THIRTY-THREE
  39. THIRTY-FOUR
  40. THIRTY-FIVE
  41. THIRTY-SIX
  42. THIRTY-SEVEN
  43. THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. THIRTY-NINE
  45. FORTY
  46. FORTY-ONE
  47. FORTY-TWO
  48. FORTY-THREE
  49. FORTY-FOUR
  50. FORTY-FIVE
  51. FORTY-SIX
  52. FORTY-SEVEN
  53. FORTY-EIGHT
  54. FORTY-NINE
  55. FIFTY
  56. FIFTY-ONE
  57. FIFTY-TWO
  58. FIFTY-THREE
  59. FIFTY-FOUR
  60. FIFTY-FIVE
  61. FIFTY-SIX
  62. FIFTY-SEVEN
  63. FIFTY-EIGHT
  64. FIFTY-NINE
  65. SIXTY
  66. SIXTY-ONE
  67. SIXTY-TWO
  68. SIXTY-THREE
  69. SIXTY-FOUR
  70. SIXTY-FIVE
  71. SIXTY-SIX
  72. SIXTY-SEVEN
  73. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  74. CLIMATE EMERGENCY
  75. Copyright

At home, I pull the under-stairs cupboard apart looking for the first aid kit. Inside, there are a couple of large bandages. I peel off Alan’s effort, careful not to rip the kitchen towel where it’s stuck to my skin. I run my hand very briefly under the cold tap to get rid of the worst of the blood and the few scraps of paper that I couldn’t peel off. The pain is so deep I almost pass out. What little blood is still coming from the wounds is thicker now, the flow slowing down. It’s difficult to bandage my right hand with my left, but I manage it eventually before wiping down the bathroom with the anti-bac wipes that are kept under the sink.

Visions of the shop woman’s face, and Dan’s – what have they done to him? – swim in front of me as I put my coat, my jumper and T-shirt into the washing machine. Questions come, and I hear them in Dad’s voice. What did I do to her? What did Carl do to Dan? I hear again and again her scream, the deafening crash of the glass, feel the weight of the hammer in my hand, which is Carl’s hand, covered in my blood, the woman’s blood. Dan’s blood? What did they do to Dan? Was that for me, too? My legs are about to buckle under me, my stomach lurches to one side. I see my dad pulling glass from his bloody hands. Half of his body is burned away. I’m halfway up the stairs, still standing in front of that shop window. The hammer in my hand is in Dad’s hand. He’s asking what I’ve done. He’s smashing at glass, screaming in a voice which is the woman’s voice. Responsible, they scream. Responsible. Responsible!

With what feels like the last of my strength, I haul my pale form up the rest of the stairs and pass out on the bed.

FORTY-NINE

FORTY NINE

The next day – a Sunday – I wake up late. Despite the complete black-out for about sixteen hours, I feel like I’ve barely slept at all. One word has gone around and around my mind: responsible. Does Carl think I was responsible for Dad’s death? Was I responsible? I try to shrug the thoughts off. I fail. Am I responsible for everything they’re doing, now? For Carl’s plan? Is it really … mine?

There’s just enough time to check I cleaned the bathroom properly (I didn’t, but quickly make amends) and to take my clothes from the washing machine before Mum comes home. I’ve no idea if I managed to get all the blood out, but the coat, jumper and T-shirt are all dark colours, so it shouldn’t show too much if I haven’t.