Noughts and Crosses by Malorie Blackman (historical books to read TXT) 📕

I won’t inflict my presence on you any longer.’ Jude sprang to his feet and headed for the front door.

‘Jude . . .’ Mum was also on her feet and moving forward.

Jude threw open the front door, but was halted in his tracks by the presence of two police officers, framed by the darkness outside. One of the officers had his arm raised, ready to knock on the door. They seemed as startled to see us as we were to see them. The officer in front was obviously the one in charge. A police sergeant, I think he was. A thin, reedy man whose uniform looked at least a size too big for him. The constable was almost the exact opposite. He was built like a brick outhouse. What he lacked in height, he made up for in width. Both of them were Crosses of course. Nought police officers were as rare as blue snow.

‘Mr McGregor?’ The senior police officer looked around the room. Dad stood up slowly.

‘Lynette . . .’ Mum whispered. Her trembling hand blindly sought and found the back of the sofa, her eyes never leaving the officers.

‘May we come in?’

Dad’s nod was brief. ‘Please.’

They stepped into our living room, carefully shutting the door behind them.

‘I’m Sergeant Collins and this is Constable Darkeagle,’ said the senior policeman.

‘Officers?’ Dad prompted when no-one in the room spoke. We were all wound so tautly that platitudes just made our torture worse.

‘I’m so sorry, sir, ma’am. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.’

The officers had pitying, embarrassed looks on their faces. Dad swallowed hard, his expression carved in granite.

‘What’s happened?’ he asked quietly.

Mum’s grip on the sofa tightened, her knuckles whitening. I stared at the officers, telling myself that no matter what they said, it wouldn’t, it couldn’t be as bad as the thoughts racing through my head.

But it was.

‘You have a daughter called Lynette McGregor?’

Dad nodded.

‘I’m terribly sorry, sir, but there’s been an accident – a tragic accident. I’m afraid she walked right into the path of an oncoming bus. Er . . . witnesses said she seemed to be in a world of her own. Maybe she had things on her mind?’

No-one answered his question. I don’t think he expected an answer because he went on almost immediately.

‘It was no-one’s fault. If it’s any consolation, she was killed instantly. She didn’t suffer. I’m so sorry.

No-one spoke. I kept my eyes on the officer, the bearer of the bad news. I couldn’t have looked at any other member of my family then if my life had depended on it.

It was all my fault.

That’s how it felt. I remembered her staring at herself in the cracked living-room mirror, her hands bloody where she’d cut herself on the rough glass. Only a few days ago. Only a lifetime ago. Lynette . . .

‘Your daughter is in the morgue of the local hospital if you wish to see her . . .’

‘NO!’ Mum let out a sudden howl like a wounded animal and sunk to her knees.

Dad was at her side at once. Jude took a step forward then stopped. The two police officers looked away, unwilling to be spectators at Mum’s grief. I stood like a statue, frozen and mute. The seconds ticked past. Dad hugged Mum to him, rocking her. Mum didn’t speak and she didn’t cry. She didn’t make another sound. Her eyes were closed as she let Dad rock her. Sergeant Collins stepped forward, a card in his hand.

‘This is my number. If you need anything, anything at all, just phone me. I’ve written the number of a bereavement service on the back of the card in case you want to use it.’

Dad took the card. ‘That’s very kind of you, Officer. Thank you.’ His voice shook as he took the card.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Sergeant Collins said one more time before ushering the constable out of the front door.

At the click of the closing door, I sank down onto the sofa. Lynette entered my head and filled my thoughts and spun around me and danced through me until it felt like she was swallowing me up. Jude stood quite still, looking utterly lost. Mum opened her eyes slowly. She pulled herself away from Dad, who reluctantly let her go, before turning to face us. A solitary tear trickled down her cheek.

‘You must all be so proud of yourselves,’ she said. ‘I hope you’re happy now.’

‘Meggie, that’s not fair,’ Dad began. ‘The officer said it was an accident.’

Mum looked at each of us in turn. ‘Was it? Or did she have her mind on what you all said to her?’ Then Mum buried her head in her hands, murmuring, ‘My baby . . . my baby . . .’

And we could do nothing but stand and watch – all of us together, each of us utterly alone.

thirty-seven. Sephy

I flicked from channel to channel to channel, searching for something to watch. Looking for something to occupy my time. Nothing on that channel. Nothing on that channel either.

‘For goodness’ sake!’ Minnie snatched the remote control out of my hand and threw it across the room.

‘What’s biting you?’ I asked.

‘Doesn’t anything ever bother you?’ Minnie asked, shaking her head.

‘Lots of things bother me,’ I frowned.

‘But nothing that you actually lose any sleep over, eh?’

‘What’re you talking about?’

‘Mother and Dad are splitting up. It’s actually going to happen. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

‘It means a lot to me,’ I protested. ‘Dad’s got someone else. Mother’s drowning her sorrows even worse than before and you lash out at me all the time because I’m an easy target. But there’s not a single thing I can do about any of it, is there?’

Minnie gave me a look that would’ve felled a giant redwood, before she marched out of the room. I stood up and hunted for the remote. I mean, jeez! Was it my fault?

What did she want from me, for goodness sake? If I could’ve done something about