Letting herself into his building with the shopping she’d bought him, Sophie paused to pick up the post from the rubbish-strewn communal hall floor. There were two letters addressed to Jimmy O’Conner. Bills, judging by the envelopes. She doubted he’d have the money to pay them. He’d never had much, which was why her mother hadn’t rated him, and now he had nothing.
Thoughts of her mother bringing her starkly to mind, Sophie swallowed back a sudden dryness in her throat as the flashback that plagued her dreams assaulted her. It was so full-on this time she could almost taste the petrol fumes thick on the air. Gasping in a deep breath, one hand on the wall for support, she felt the chassis of the van shifting beneath her, rattling her around like a ragdoll as it rolled; metal grinding and concertinaing before she was ejected through the flapping back doors. She felt a strange sense of weightlessness before she landed, every bone jarring agonisingly. Her teeth clenching sharply, shooting intense pain through her jaw, she gulped back the salty taste in her mouth and tried to move. She couldn’t. She was acutely aware of the pain drilling through her leg like the red-hot point of a poker; vaguely sensed her mum dangling upside down in the front of the van. She tried to call out to her, but her tongue felt too thick in her mouth. Blinking hard against the film of crimson clouding her vision, desperation climbing her chest, she tried again – ‘Mummy!’ – but no sound came out other than a rasping gurgle. And then she froze, lying stock still in the undergrowth, as two heavy biker-booted feet came into view, pausing directly in front of her.
She tried to still the panic twisting inside her as they moved onwards, heels clacking against the grit and ice on the road. He would help her. Relief flooded through her. He would save her mum. He would get her out. Praying hard, she squinted through the foliage half obscuring her vision. She could hear her own heart beating as a minute ticked agonisingly by; a bird chirruping high up in the trees above her. It was if her senses were heightened. She could hear herself breathing.
What was he doing? she wondered, fear tightening her tummy as the sickly-sweet smell of petrol filled her nostrils. Help her, she implored soundlessly, another interminably long minute ticking by. Please hurry.
And then she heard a new sound, sharper heels crunching on the gravel. Someone else coming? A scraping sound, too, like the strike of a match against the side of a box. Once, twice… three times. A silent scream rising inside her, she lost control of her bladder as she watched the lighted match fall to the puddle of fuel, igniting a fireball that swallowed her mother.
She took several slow breaths and tried to still the incessant shaking of her limbs that always accompanied the flashbacks.
No one had wanted to hear what she had to say when she’d eventually remembered what had happened. At first, when she’d woken up, she had no recollection. She’d felt nothing but a deep sense of terror, but she didn’t know why. The shock, the doctors had said, had caused her to block the painful memories out. Soon afterwards, justice had been done, according to some. People at the pub had borne witness to the events leading up to the accident, recounting how much Jimmy had been drinking that night, how he’d been acting. No one had believed him when he’d protested his innocence. Just a farmhand who stank of pig shit and with a liking for the booze, he’d been convicted of causing death by dangerous driving. He’d been in love with her, consumed with jealous rage, the gossipers who revelled in the gory details thereafter had said. He had been in love with her. They were right about that bit.
Feeling more composed, Sophie continued along the hall. His flat – a poky, dingy hole not fit to house a dog – was on the ground floor, necessarily. He’d been four years into his sentence when he’d ‘fallen’ down the prison stairs, breaking his leg in two places. There’d been some kind of fight, apparently, Jimmy accused of starting it. He’d been carrying the knife that had pierced his lung as he fell, according to other inmates. Jimmy hadn’t denied it. To have done that would have had him marked as a grass, he’d said. Better to do the extra time inside and live to tell the tale, he’d told her when she’d finally located him.
She’d been old enough then to choose what she wanted to do, rather than obey her gran’s wishes. She smiled cynically when she thought of Gran. Far from the sweet old lady she’d portrayed for Claire’s benefit, the woman had been a nasty, mean bitch. She’d had her mum young, so was only in her late forties when Sophie had gone to live with her, where she’d had to listen to the constant bumping and grinding through the bedroom wall whenever her dear gran had entertained one of her many men friends. She’d only taken Sophie in for the money that was paid into her bank account on a monthly basis, something she reminded her granddaughter of often.
It was Gran who’d unknowingly given her the idea of contacting Claire. ‘Pity that bloke our Cath was seeing before she died didn’t do the decent thing,’ she’d said, with a wistful sigh. ‘You might have been all right if they’d tied the knot.’ Meaning she might have been. The woman was transparent.
It hadn’t taken Sophie long to find Claire through social media sites. She hadn’t been sure what her next step would be. Then, when she’d seen Claire’s Facebook posts about Bernard’s illness and how devastated she was… It had been fate really. The perfect opportunity to get in touch. And now here she was, installed in Bernard Harvey’s house, which meant she couldn’t stay long here. She had to get back, keep a close eye on the comings and goings of people who might put ideas in her dear half-sister’s head. Ideas that Sophie definitely didn’t want there.
Approaching his door, she heard his hacking cough as she pushed her key into the lock. ‘Jimmy,’ she called, letting herself in, ‘where are you?’
Jimmy coughed heartily again. ‘In here, love,’ he managed from the bedroom.
Dropping her shopping bags in the kitchen, Sophie crossed the small lounge area, tapped on the bedroom door and then went on in. ‘You all right, Jimmy?’ she asked, her brow knitted into a worried frown as she looked to where he was sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked like death, his face pale and drawn. He was losing weight and she could hear the rattle in his chest from two yards away.
‘Yeah.’ He mustered up a smile. ‘Just the old chest giving me a bit of gyp. Nothing to worry about, petal.’ He coughed and wheezed, then reached for his cigarettes.
Sophie sighed and rolled her eyes as she walked across to him. She should reprimand him, but knowing he was hopelessly addicted, she’d long since given that up.
‘You’re staying with her, then?’ he asked, lighting up and sucking smoke deep into his lungs.
‘I am.’ Sophie smiled. She’d texted him to tell him, warning him she wouldn’t be able to make it over to see him until now. She hoped he’d been feeding himself properly.
He eyed her curiously. ‘Getting on all right, are you?’
‘Yep, good,’ Sophie said, her smile widening. ‘I think we’ve bonded.’
He arched an eyebrow and took another puff. ‘You just be careful, Soph,’ he warned her, after a contemplative second. ‘I don’t want you ending up getting hurt.’
‘I won’t,’ Sophie assured him, grabbing his pillows and fluffing them up for him. ‘Everything’s going swimmingly.’
Apart from Ella almost drowning in her care, she didn’t feel the need to add. She had been horribly worried for a second that she wouldn’t get to her in time. Still, all was well that ended well. And at least it might make Claire appreciate what she’d got. She was inclined to feel sorry for herself, Sophie felt. She really shouldn’t, considering the privileges she’d had growing up. Sophie would have given anything for her start in life.
‘Cup of tea?’ she asked Jimmy, going across to open his curtains and hitch the window open an inch. She didn’t want him to catch cold, but a bit of fresh air would do him good. She made a mental note to close it before she left.
‘I’ll get it.’ Jimmy stuffed his fag in his mouth, pressed his knuckles against the mattress and attempted to heave himself to his feet.
‘Stay,’ Sophie said, encouraging him back down again. It would take him ages with his limp and his shortness of breath. His health had deteriorated rapidly lately. ‘Take your time. You know the sleeping tablets make you woozy. I’ll do it.’
‘I can manage, Soph,’ Jimmy assured her. ‘You don’t have to keep worrying about me.’
Sophie wasn’t so sure about that. ‘Someone has to.’ She sighed tolerantly. ‘I can’t stay long, though. I have to get back.’
Jimmy didn’t ask why. He didn’t expect or demand anything of her; didn’t judge her. He just liked her company. And Sophie liked his. He was probably the only genuine person she’d had in her life.
‘I’ve bought you some supplies,’ she said. ‘I’ll warm you up some soup while I’m at it.’
‘Thanks, Soph.’ He smiled gratefully. ‘You’re an angel. If there’s one good thing that’s come out of all of this, it’s you. Cath would have been proud of you.’
Would she? Her mum had never really paid her much attention. Sophie couldn’t help feeling she would think she hadn’t achieved much: no qualifications, no job. That was all going to change, though. Now that she’d found Claire, she would put the wrongs right and have something to show for her life.