Lifesaving for Beginners

pretty heavy for just a couple of days but that’s because Faith is a girl and girls need more clothes than boys. Sometimes Imelda wears three different outfits in one day but Carla always wears the same jeans, even if there’re grass stains on the knees.
    When we get outside, Faith lights a cigarette and checks the bus timetable. Afterwards, she says, ‘Let’s go,’ and I pick up my bag and follow her, even though I don’t know where we’re going to or how long it’s going to take to get there.
    And I don’t ask.
    It’s probably because I’m nearly ten now. Double digits. A pre-teen. I’m going to check my armpits when we get to wherever we’re going, because you just never know, do you?

 
     
    Not much happens.
    I think about Thomas. About ringing him. I don’t ring him.
    I smoke. A lot.
    Brona rings. I tell her I’ve just started a chapter. I can’t talk.
    I don’t write anything.
    I examine my face in the mirror. My almost-forty-year-old face.
    Minnie rings and tells me about her teeth. Apparently, they’re falling into disrepair due to all the calcium in her body bypassing her mouth and going directly to the baby. She doesn’t seem put out by this turn of events, even though she’s particular about her teeth, having worn train tracks for much of the eighties.
    I tell her I can’t talk, I’ve got Brona holding on the other line. She wants to discuss the chapter I’m writing. Minnie tells me to ring her back. I don’t.
    I avoid Ed. I tell him I can’t come over to play Super Mario Galaxy with him.
    ‘We could play Super Mario Galaxy 2, if you prefer.’
    ‘I can’t.’
    ‘Why not, Kat?’
    ‘Because . . .’
    ‘Is it because you’re getting things ready for when Faith comes to visit us?’
    ‘Something like that.’
    Later, the phone rings. I check the screen.
    Withheld.
    But it could be Ed phoning from Sophie’s, looking for a lift somewhere. Maybe he’s out of credit. I don’t think it’s Ed. But it could be.
    ‘Hello?’ My voice sounds sharp. Caustic. I don’t sound like someone who is afraid.
    ‘You were wrong.’ The voice is the same as before. A man’s voice. Low-pitched. English accent. The enunciation of each word like an elocution lesson.
    ‘Who is this?’
    ‘Last time we spoke, you said you know who I am. But you don’t, do you? You haven’t got a clue.’
    ‘I know you’re a coward.’
    ‘I’m a businessman.’
    ‘What do you want?’
    ‘An investment in my business.’
    ‘What business?’
    ‘The business of not giving an exclusive to one of our lovely tabloids about Killian Kobain and who he really is.’
    ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
    ‘Everybody wants to know this story.’
    ‘What story?’
    ‘The Killian Kobain story.’
    ‘That’s got nothing to do with me.’
    ‘The clock is ticking on this deal, Kat. I’m not looking for a big investment. A modest six-figure sum should be sufficient. I don’t think that will pose much of a problem for someone with a net worth of about . . . what did the Bookseller report say? Oh yes, twenty-two million, wasn’t it? Now is that euro or sterling?’ He laughs, like he’s said something funny.
    I know I should hang up. I know I should.
    I don’t.
    He says, ‘Let’s hope you have no other secrets to hide, Kat.’
    Something twists in my gut, like a knife. ‘What are you talking about?’
    ‘Once the press gets hold of this story, they’ll go through you for a shortcut. No stone will be left unturned. I wouldn’t want that for you, of course. But by then the matter will be out of my hands.’
    ‘Fuck you.’
    ‘Now, now, Kat, that’s not very polite.’
    ‘You’re blackmailing me.’
    ‘I’m not fond of that word.’
    ‘That’s what you’re doing.’
    The edge returns to his voice. ‘This story will either get told or it won’t. It’s up to you, Katherine.’
    ‘Don’t ring this number again.’
    ‘We’ll talk again. When you’ve had a chance to think about things.’
    ‘There’s nothing to think about.’
    ‘There’s always something to think about.’ This time, he hangs up first.
    I throw the phone at the wall but it doesn’t break. The back cover comes off, that’s all. I put it back and dial the number, but I hang up before it gets a chance to ring. I end up doing it a couple of times. Dialling and hanging up. I don’t know why. I’ll be glad in the morning, I’d say. That I didn’t ring Thomas.
    I open a Word document. Look at the blank