If this were Hollywood, there’d have been stirring music at this point, or a montage scene of me and Ade talking intently in different locations, fighting off all the crap in my head.
I’ve seen the films, know the scripts by heart.
It wasn’t like that, of course. Hearing and seeing her story didn’t make my guilt go away, but it did shift something. It gave me a sense of perspective, of hope maybe, although I was none the wiser as to how her story could actually help. I fought hard to hold on to the positives: that we had this in common, that we would find a way to connect. I’d doubted her for long enough and she’d trusted in me. That had to be worth something, especially with everything else back at Bellfield taking a nosedive.
The repercussions from our night out rumbled on. Not with Eric, who’d got over it after an apology, but with Naomi and Patrick. The speed at which they forgave each other after their fights didn’t extend to me, and aside from an occasional dig in the ribs or choice insult, it was like I was invisible.
That would have been fine had we not been living under the same roof, and besides, I’d relied on them for buying my tobacco and smuggling in the spirits.
It was almost a relief when September rolled around and classes began. At least it gave the days some focus, allowed six hours to pass without craving the company of cheap vodka.
It was a strange experience going to school without leaving the gates, a bit like being home-schooled, I supposed. Our teacher was hardly troubled in terms of pupil numbers, as it was basically two of us, me and Susie, plus Jimmy, who pitched up every now and again, taking a guitar secretively next door before huddling over it, his fingers lumbering over the fret board. As with his phone calls, he seemed to be in a world of his own making. We couldn’t hear what he was playing, he always plugged a pair of headphones into the amp, but I couldn’t imagine it was tuneful. When he was in there, doing his thing, I’d keep an eye out for the others, in the hope that I could save him from more grief.
Susie had quite a thing for him and spent chunks of every day telling me just how wonderful he was.
‘Have you ever met anyone like him?’ she cooed on one occasion.
That was an easy one to answer. ‘Nope.’ At least I didn’t have to lie.
‘It kills me when I see the others rip it out of him. He’s such an easy target.’
‘He doesn’t really help himself, though, does he? All that business with the mobile phone. People kind of notice stuff like that.’
‘He’s not hurting anyone with it. It’s just his way of coping. I just wish they knew how talented he was.’
I was confused. ‘You think all the music stuff’s true, then? All the gigs and groupies, that’s for real?’
‘Absolutely. Don’t you?’
I tried to think of a way of saying it tactfully, of not puncturing her dreams. ‘Er, it’s hard to say. I’ve never heard him sing or play anything. You?’
She looked a bit sheepish. ‘Not really. I thought I heard him once through the ceiling, got Naomi in to listen to it and everything. But she just pissed herself laughing and punched me. Told me it was the radio, that it was Coldplay or someone.’
‘And was it?’
‘Was it what?’
‘Coldplay?’ Boy, this was hard work.
She shrugged. ‘Dunno. I’m no expert. I wanted it to be Jimmy. That’s enough for me. I don’t know why it’s not enough for them either.’
Conversations like this were draining to say the least, despite how much I liked her, and it was almost a relief to try and concentrate on some schoolwork.
Time outside of lessons belonged to Ade. Ever since our talk on the cliffs, I’d feared there would be some kind of expectation to spill my own story, and the thought consumed me, haunting my every moment with her.
We walked each day after school, along the rocks that were becoming familiar, our place in a way. I’d never seen her heading there with Naomi and I was scared that she was spending so much time with me at her expense. The last thing I needed was another reason for Naomi to go ballistic.
It didn’t concern Ade, who brushed my fears away quickly.
‘At some point you are going to have to start putting yourself first and stop worrying about the others, Naomi especially.’
I shot her a look. I doubted she’d been pinned to the bed by Naomi lately.
‘I know that she is unpredictable, but that does not mean you should feel like a victim around her. Living in fear is hardly going to help you get better, is it?’
‘And walking a marathon every day is?’ It was petulant, and I cringed as soon as the words formed, but I couldn’t stop them coming out.
‘Not in isolation, no. But we are going to bring a weapon walking with us every day, something that will gradually wear down these thoughts of yours.’
‘Oh aye, and what weapon’s that, then?’
‘Logic.’
I stopped walking and stared at her. Was she having a laugh?
‘I’ll bring the logic if you bring some trust.’ There was a tinge of impatience to her voice. ‘If you can’t manage that, Daisy, then this time will be wasted. I don’t mind spending my time with you – in fact, I can’t think of a better way to pass my shifts, because I can see how confused you are, and I know, with some trust, that we can beat whatever is ruling you at the moment. But without trust?’ She paused, her brow furrowed. ‘Then you can forget it. You might as well go back to the house and wait for Naomi to slap you again. Is that what you want?’
I shook my head slowly. Of course I didn’t.
‘Then we start here and now.’ She swung the rucksack off her back and unzipped it carefully, pulling a clunky-looking box and lead out from inside.
It was a Walkman, an oversized hunk of plastic that she must have had since the 1980s. It was older than me, almost heavier too as she thrust it into my hands.
‘What are we going to do with this?’ I turned it over in my hands, wanting to heap further scorn on her idea.
‘You are going to speak into it. This wonderful-looking thing is going to train your mind, teach it to dismiss all the untrue thoughts that are in your head.’
‘You are kidding me?’ Apart from playing tinny-sounding music, I didn’t see what use it was going to be.
‘No, I’m not kidding. I know it looks unlikely, but this machine played a big part in me finally dismissing the belief that I killed my brother.’
I didn’t get it and told her so, politely this time.
‘Bear with me. It will become clearer, I promise.’ She beckoned me to sit next to her. ‘The one thing I know about you is what the doctors told me. That you feel you are responsible for your dad dying. Is that correct?’
I nodded.
‘Despite not being in the car when he crashed. Yes?’
Another nod.
‘Even though you were nowhere near the bypass when the accident happened?’
‘It was still my fault.’ I believed it too. Stronger than ever.
‘My argument to you is the same as my therapist’s with me. Your thoughts are wrong. They are empty and without substance. How could you cause a car crash that you were nowhere near? Or how could I kill my brother from another continent? Do you understand what I’m getting at? These thoughts of yours, or thoughts of mine, they are illogical and we shouldn’t waste our time entertaining them.’
I could see what she was saying, what she was trying to do. But she didn’t know the full story, did she? Didn’t know my track record.
‘What I’m going to show you is how to make your mind dismiss these thoughts. How to recognize, with the help of logic, that they are not true, that they don’t belong to you. As soon as you truly understand and believe this, they will simply crumble away and you will have your mind back.’
She’d told me this before, given me the pep talk, and as brilliant as it sounded, I still didn’t see how a cassette player was going to get me there.
‘So what do I need to do?’
‘You need to start wearing these thoughts down. To make your brain so tired and bored of hearing them, it will start to see them for what they are. So that in time it will start to reject them for the nonsense that they are.’
She took the Walkman back and plugged the lead in, before passing me the other end of it, a small microphone covered in black felt.
‘Find yourself a quiet spot, here on the bench or by the cliff, wherever you feel most comfortable. When you are ready, press the red button and start to repeat the same sentence into it: “I killed my dad. It was my fault.”’
I felt my stomach tighten.
‘The tape is twenty minutes long, so you are going to have to repeat that statement until one side is full. If you need to have a break that is fine. Just hit stop, take a few breaths and start again.’ She stroked my back and leaned into me reassuringly. ‘I know this is a lot to ask, but I promise, a hundred per cent, that it will help.’
I didn’t want to do it. Didn’t know if I physically could, but I forced myself to think of the alternatives, of letting the thoughts rule me, of being at Bellfield around Naomi until they kicked me out at the age of eighteen. Slowly I pulled myself to my feet, studied the machine’s buttons and ambled to a bench by the edge of the cliff.
It took me a few moments to steady myself, to persuade my finger to stop shaking and apply enough force to the red button, but eventually I managed it.
‘I killed my mum and dad. It was my fault.’
It was slow work at first and I had to pause on a couple of occasions to centre myself, but I did it. After about ten minutes, the words seemed to mean less. It was still me saying them, obviously, but they didn’t have the same power, the same meaning, which gave me hope in itself.
Throughout the twenty minutes, Ade was there, twenty metres behind me, her eyes meeting mine each time I needed them without ever invading my space, and I took strength that she’d sat there at some point, recording her own fears just as I was doing. In the end I found a rhythm and a deadpan tone to my voice that made me comfortable enough to fill the tape, the click of the red button cutting me off mid-sentence. I only hoped that when these thoughts finally left me, it would be just as sudden.
Coiling the microphone lead around my fingers, I climbed to my feet and breathed out deeply to sea. All right, I’d only spoken into a tape for twenty minutes, but I’d never have entertained the idea at the start of the day. It had to be worth something, and as Ade’s arms snaked around my shoulders, pulling my head next to hers, I had no doubt, no doubt at all, that I’d made a start.