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‘Fuck you.’ Behind her, I can see movement under the blanket. Not panicked wriggling but more focused. I need to keep Katie distracted. I need to stay alive long enough for my baby to get away. ‘So you’re going to stab me? That screws your perfect plan, doesn’t it?’
‘I’ll improvise something,’ she says, but I see the irritation. More movement under the blanket. Does Ava have one wrist free? ‘I’d rather you went to prison, but if you’re both dead I can live with that.’
She lunges towards me and I manage to stumble out of the way. She laughs and I realise with a sudden despair that she’s playing with me. I can barely stay on my feet.
‘Lisa?’
The voice is so unexpected, I turn automatically. She’s standing in a doorway behind us, her eyes wide, shocked, a torch limp in her hand by her side.Marilyn. Marilyn found us. I let out a small sob at the sight of my best friend, my true best friend, but she’s suddenly leaping towards me, the torch dropping useless to the ground as she shoves me sideways, hard.
I spin, falling backwards to the ground, in time to see Katie, her face ugly with all her crazed bitterness, slice the knife down into the space where a second ago I had been standing. The space Marilyn now occupies.
I hear Marilyn gasp. It’s not pain but utter surprise. She looks down. The handle is embedded in her chest. For a moment, there’s a perfect stillness, and then her head turns to face me. She’s trying to smile. Her mouth moves, attempting to form a word, and from where I am on the floor I can hear the liquid rattle of her breath.
‘Run,’ she finally says, before, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, she crumples to the floor.
I don’t run. I can’t run. I am done with running. I drag my eyes from my beautiful friend’s broken body and then I’m screaming. I hear the noise and I know it’s me, but it’s like it’s coming from somewhere else, someone else, somewhere far outside of me. I have no rational thought. I am a weapon of pure pain and I leap up, no unsteadiness in my legs now, and launch myself at Katie, my bodyweight taking both of us to the ground, the weight knocking the wind out of her under me. My hands grasp at her throat and I start to squeeze.
Marilyn. Daniel. Me. Ava. All those years. My whole life. She’s struggling but my grip is a tightening vice on her slim neck. I see the fear in her eyes and I revel in it. ‘Fuck you, Katie Batten,’ I say through gritted teeth and as tears spring up at the back of my eyes. ‘Fuck you, you crazy bitch.’
She’s choking, awful sounds coming from her crushed windpipe, and she desperately struggles to breathe, but still my grip tightens, the muscles in my hands starting to scream with the effort. I’m going to kill her. I know it. And it feels good.
‘Mum, no!’ Hands on my arms, scrabbling at me, trying to pull me off her. ‘Don’t. Mum, don’t!’
Ava. My Ava.She’s dirty, snot- and tear-stained and her hair is lank and knotted, but her eyes are clear as she grabs my face.
‘You’re not a killer. Don’t let her make you a killer. I love you, Mum. Don’t do it.’
I stare into her eyes, so much like Jon’s but also, behind the facade of colour, in the depths of who she is, so much like mine. My baby.
‘Please, Mum,’ she says. ‘Please.’
I feel my grip loosen. Underneath me, Katie starts to cough as I let go, my arms unable to be so close to Ava and not hold her. I pull her to me and we cling to each other, crying into each other’s hair as I murmur,it’s okay, it’s okay, baby, Mummy’s here now, it’s over, it’s overand from upstairs come voices, feet on stairs and I know we’re safe.
Katie tenses beneath me and attempts to push herself upright. I break free from Ava, and in one swift movement, punch her hard in the face. She doesn’t try to move again.
EPILOGUE
There are still nightmares. There will probably be nightmares for a long time, for all of them, but they are different now, and she reminds herself they are only dreams. Katie is locked away. Katie won’t escape and find them. They say Katie writes her letters, but she doesn’t read them. She’s told the prison staff to burn any correspondence. She has no interest in any of Katie’s words.
She is Charlotte again now and she finds she’s okay with that. This time the therapy has been good, although she finds it hard to let go of a lifetime of guilt and shame. They talk about her childhood a lot. They talk about Daniel. She cries.
When she’s not having nightmares about Katie looking for her, she still dreams of holding Daniel’s hand. She thinks the dreams are here to stay. But that’s okay too. He’s inside her and always will be but she’s made her peace with him. He’s gone and nothing can change that. It’s time to look forward. To live. To embrace new life. She has to try to be happy. She canbehappy now. She has every right to be. Today, she is happy. Today she is filled with hope.
Ava, pale and beautiful and awestruck, is holding the baby, so tiny and fragile and new, and Charlotte thinks they are the two most beautiful creatures in the whole world, this young daughter of hers and her new child. They are her strength. They will always be her strength. Courtney has gone home from the hospital, somewhat shell-shocked and bewildered, but Charlotte thinks he’ll be okay. He’s a good boy and she has a feeling that, with enough help, he’ll be a good father. This baby will not be short of people to love him.
‘He’s beautiful,’ she says, tears stinging her eyes as she smiles at her daughter. Tears come easily these days. Funny how things change.
‘I brought Jelly Babies!’ The hospital room door opens, and Marilyn comes in, waving the bag of sweets with her functioning arm. It’s been a long road for her too, but she’s a fighter. She’s had to be. Her natural glow is returning, slowly. Her smile is no longer forced. She has nightmares too. Charlotte hears her cries in her sleep. After coming out of hospital it seemed natural for Marilyn to move in, and what was supposed to be a short-term arrangement has turned into an unspoken permanent one. Charlotte, Ava and Marilyn; an odd little family, but one she would not change. They are survivors together. They will survive this together. The rest of the world can wait. She knows Simon wants to take things further, but isn’t sure that will happen. Maybe one day. It will depend on his patience.
‘So, we’ve got a little man moving in with us,’ Charlotte says, sitting on the edge of the bed. She wriggles her finger into one of the baby’s tiny wrinkled hands, fascinated by the gorgeousness of him. There was never going to be an abortion. Ava couldn’t do it, and Charlotte wasn’t going to fight her decision. Another time and another life, maybe. But not hers or Ava’s.
‘Do you have a name yet?’ Marilyn asks. Charlotte looks up, curious. Ava’s kept her name choices close to her chest all through the pregnancy, not knowing if the baby was going to be a boy or a girl. Ava nods, sweaty hair clinging to her face.
‘Daniel,’ she says. ‘I want to call him Daniel.’
The baby’s tiny hand grips tight on Charlotte’s fingers, and her tears come hot and salty and fresh as he refuses to let go.
Daniel. It’s perfect.