Like This, for Ever

leaving, and then nothing. Had he fallen asleep? Impossible, surely, with all this mess. It had happened again.
    He jumped up, saw the mugs stained with the remains of hot chocolate, the KitKat wrappers, the cushions scattered about the floor. All wrong. Not sure what to do first, he bent for the chocolate wrappers and stopped.
    Until she gets better.
    Had he just made that up? Or was that the second half of the memory, which for some reason had remained hidden until now? His dad’s voice telling him that Mummy was going away for a while was one of his earliest memories. How come, until now, he’d only remembered half ?
    He’d think better when the room was tidy, he always did. He dropped the chocolate wrappers and gathered up the cushions. Two red, two gold, on each of the three sofas, arranged neatly in pairs, that was how it was done. He stood up and, for less than a second,caught another glimpse in the large wall mirror of the boy who wasn’t him. The boy who was smaller, and thinner, and who smiled an odd, knowing smile. He stared and the reflection became Barney again. Sad, worried, tired, and far too pale, but definitely him.
    Had his mum been ill? Was she, even now, in hospital somewhere? If so, she wouldn’t have seen any of his ads. Why was he only remembering this now?
    A key was being turned in the lock. Barney remembered, in a split second, that his dad thought he was on a sleepover. No time to hide. He’d have to say he’d felt ill and come home. Jorge and one of the others had walked with him. How to explain being in the sitting-room in the middle of the night was another matter.
    His dad had closed and locked the door and walked the length of the hall to the kitchen. Barney heard the sound of keys being dropped on to the table, of a tap being run. Then lights switched off. His dad was going upstairs. Movement in the room above, the toilet being flushed, the electric toothbrush, the bed creaking. Then nothing.
    Why had his dad been at the boat? Why had he suddenly got so careful about the keys? And why had he lied, why had he claimed to be home when he plainly wasn’t?
    Barney carried the mugs and the chocolate wrappers into the kitchen. He wouldn’t be able to wash them until morning but at least he’d know the living room was tidy. He put the wrappers in the bin and left the mugs on top of the washing machine.
    The striped sheets he’d seen in the washing machine, they belonged on the boat. Suddenly Barney was sure of it.
    Barney left the kitchen. He climbed the steps slowly and carefully, knowing exactly where to stand to avoid making a sound. On the first-floor landing he paused. The door to his dad’s study was open. His coat hung on the back of the door.
    Why did his dad have a child’s glove in his pocket?

36
    EVERYTHING INSIDE HER was wrong. Internal organs swelling, skin tightening, bones pressing closer together. Lacey’s body just didn’t seem to fit any more. Working parts she never normally gave a second’s thought to, systems she took totally for granted, were jarring and clashing like badly made clockwork.
    Concentrate
. She had to get down the steps without falling. God knows how she’d managed to drive home without killing someone. Maybe she hadn’t. Lacey realized she had no recollection of leaving Lewisham police station, of finding her car where Joesbury had left it, of driving across town to her flat. Maybe the screech of brakes on wet tarmac, the glance of terror, the thud of metal against flesh had just slipped her memory. She’d had blackouts once before, years ago, when long hours just slipped from her consciousness. Maybe they were happening again. Maybe there was someone bleeding on the roadside somewhere and it was all her fault.
    The ache in her chest was spreading outwards, making her stomach cramp. She was at her front door, with no idea how long it had taken her to get down the steps. She had to go in, and yet the cold air and the rain on her face felt like the only things keeping her together. Noise above. Footsteps. She’d be seen.
    Inside her flat, Lacey found herself searching her pockets for her phone, before remembering that Tulloch still had it. And whowould she call anyway? Tulloch genuinely seemed to think she might have killed that boy, killed all of them. Hey, maybe she should confess – it wasn’t as though she had any plans for the rest of her life. Would prison really be any worse than what she was going through right now? They’d