Knife Edge (18 page)

For love's first kiss
No words.
Just one night of bliss
No words.
What we had is gone
No words.
It's time to move on
No words.

No one promised us for ever
But we thought it'd never fade.
Now all I do is close my eyes,
To feel the love we made.
You were and are and will be
My one and only lover
You held me in your palm, my dear,
So how can there be another?

For the long, cold night
No words.
When wrong was right
No words.
I live in the past
No words.
Long may it last
No words.

And can you feel my heart beat?
And can you feel it soar?
One kiss, one night was not enough,
You've got me wanting more
You've got me needing more
You've got me craving more.

So here I am without you
Was this really meant to be?
Let's pretend we're still together
In love, eternally.
But here I am without you
And it doesn't matter why,
There are no words that can explain
And memories make me cry.

I can't move on
No words.
I'm not that strong
No words.
I need you so
No words.
Why did you go?
No words.

No words that can be whispered,
They fade upon a sigh,
There are no words to sing or say
Except my love,
Goodbye.

I put down the notepad and switched off my light. I stared into the inky darkness of my room.

'Can you see me, Callum?' I whispered. 'Can you see how you've ruined my life? I wonder, does it make you laugh or does it make you cry?'

Blinding
Closed off
Burning
Cowardice
Lightning
Lasers
Screams
High Frequency
No Hope for Peace
Scorching, Scolding
Fire
Sulphur
Stench
Too Light, Too Bright

THE DAILY SHOUTER Saturday 14th August Page 15

The controversial Stop and Search bill made it through Parliament late last night with a comfortable majority of twenty-two. This new bill now gives the police the right to stop and search any nought who is genuinely believed to be carrying drugs, excess alcohol or components which could be used in the manufacture of explosives.

Alex Luther, leader of the nonviolent Lutherian Coalition, stated last night, 'This is a grave day for all of us – Noughts and Crosses. This immoral, unjust law is a charter for the police to treat every nought as a criminal, based on nothing but their own suspicions and prejudices. Justice in this country has just been set back one hundred and fifty years.'

Yesterday, nought protest groups were out in force up and down the country, reacting angrily to the proposed legislation. Inevitably, some noughts used this as an opportunity to run riot, causing criminal damage and looting in most major cities up and down the country. The police were out in force and sev-eral arrests were made.
(The Editor says – page 4)

Our days filled with platitudes. We both talk, but neither of us says much. The evenings are mostly filled with silence. Like last night. There we were again, sitting down, watching the telly. Sephy was sitting in the armchair she's made her own. I sat on the sofa. Callie was asleep in her cot in Sephy's bedroom – bless her. And thus our evening in began. After an hour, Sephy hadn't said much. In fact she hadn't said anything at all. When she first moved in, we'd talk. We'd discuss telly programmes, the things we'd heard, the things we'd seen, items in the news. Now there was only silence. Finally I couldn't stand it any longer.

'Sephy, you mustn't believe what was in that letter—'

'I've already told you,' Sephy interrupted without looking at me. 'I don't want to talk about it.'

'I just want to—'

Sephy stood up and headed for the door.

'OK. Have it your way. I won't say another word.'

Sephy looked at me, trying to gauge whether or not I meant it. She finally decided I did because she sat down again. And there we sat, in silence. And I didn't dare say another word. Because I was afraid Sephy wouldn't just walk out of the room, but would walk out of my house taking my granddaughter with her. I try my best not to criticize, not to interfere – but it's hard. I don't want to drive Sephy out by nagging her too much, but sometimes I look at her and I could swear that we're both feeling the same, both going through the same, but neither of us has the courage to just come right out and say so. Sometimes, I see Sephy's eyes cloud over. It might be for a minute or a moment, but it's enough. I know she's trying to match the memory of Callum against the words in his letter.

That bloody letter.

I don't believe for one second that Callum wrote those hateful, hurtful things – not for a second. Callum loved Sephy. I don't know much in this world but I do know that. He loved Sephy the way my husband Ryan loved me. The way Lynette loved Jed. The way Jude could love too, if he'd just let go of all the hate inside him first. It must be a McGregor thing – love all the way, hate all the way. Nothing in between.

No matter what anyone else says – like my sister, Charlotte – my family were lucky in one way at least. We loved each other very much and no one can ever take that away from me. My husband Ryan would've done anything for me and our kids. Anything. When I think of my family, it makes me realize that there's not much in this life that remains constant. The only thing that never changed in our lives was our love for each other. When the memories come and threaten to wash me away, I hold onto that one thought for my life and my sanity.

Sometimes I catch Sephy watching me, a puzzled look on her face. She looks away when she realizes I've caught her but that expression on her face has been there more times than I can count. I think she swings between not quite believing that I don't hate her and wondering why, if I don't, then why I don't? I hope she didn't agree to stay with me out of some need to do penance or as her stint in purgatory for some imagined sin. Sephy never did understand just how much she means to me. She is almost as dear to me as my own daughter, Lynette. I can't tell her that though. She'd never believe me. I look at her sometimes, when she's eating or reading or when she's nodded off on the sofa and I go through in my head all the things I'd like to tell her.

Like how much I love and admire her for what she did on the day they hanged my son. Like how much I love and cherish her for having my grandchild, Callie Rose. I know she could've had an abortion. I'll bet that's exactly what her bastard father wanted. Or she could've put her child up for adoption. But she didn't. Does she have any idea how strong she is? I hope so, I really do.

And as for Callie Rose, well, every time I look at her I can see Callum. The same eyes, the same expressions, the same tilt of the head when puzzling out something. I look at Callie and I want to just gobble her up or hug her tight and never let her go or wrap her up and put her in my heart and never let her out. I'm so desperate to keep her safe and wrapped in love. Because I know she's not going to have it easy. She's neither nought nor Cross. And in a world desperate to pigeon-hole and categorize and stereotype, she may feel forced to come down on one side or the other.

And the truth is, she's both.

And the truth is, she's neither.

She's new and special and different and individual and herself. Maybe that's what we all need – to be mixed and shaken and stirred as vigorously as possible until 'nought' and 'Cross' as labels become meaningless. But what I wish for, and what is, are worlds apart.

Sephy has me worried. She's changed. And Callum's letter is the thing which changed her. It's difficult to put into words, but it's as if something has gone out in her. She was ready to take my head off before when I suggested that it wouldn't hurt Callie to be occasionally left in her cot when she cries. But that was before Callum's letter. Now she follows my advice a little too often. Sometimes I sit in the living room with Sephy, whilst Callie cries in her cot in Sephy's bedroom, and I have to bite my lip not to say anything. I want to scream at Sephy to get up and take care of her child. There've been plenty of times when I've been close to doing just that. Then with a sigh, Sephy manages to drag her backside out of the armchair and she heads towards the bedroom. Before Callum's letter, Callie couldn't cry for longer than five seconds before Sephy was at her side.

But that was before Callum's letter.

And this is most definitely after.

Take what happened yesterday afternoon. Sephy was in the kitchen, making herself a sandwich, and I was in the living room watching a chat show when Callie Rose began to grizzle. I glanced down at my watch. It was about time for her next feed. Less than a minute later, the grizzling turned into a full-blown, full-throated bellow. Callie wasn't happy at being ignored – and I couldn't blame her. I stood up, wondering if and when Sephy was going to sort out her daughter. Callie's cries continued. I sat back down. For heaven's sake, if I could hear Callie then so could Sephy. But Callie carried on crying. And on. And on. I couldn't stand it any more. I stood up and went upstairs to comfort her. Sephy had obviously decided that her sandwich was more important than her daughter.

But I was wrong.

Sephy was in her bedroom with Callie. But she stood at the foot of the cot, staring down at her. I watched Sephy, wondering when she was going to do something about Callie's cries. She continued staring down at her – and my blood ran cold at the expression on her face. Because there was no expression on her face. Not love. Not tenderness. Not hate. Just a blank.

'Is everything all right, Sephy?' I asked.

She turned to me and it was like shutters coming down. She smiled with her mouth, not her eyes, and nodded.

'Yes, Meggie. Everything's fine,' she told me.

And only then did she pick up Callie Rose. I backed away, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature around me. I'm losing Sephy, losing her to that letter. But worse than that, Callie is losing her too.

And I can't for the life of me figure out what to do about it.

Russell's was the first Nought club I'd ever been to. We entered the place – through the front door – to be greeted by one of the broadest, strongest women I'd ever seen. She wasn't fat as such, more built like a armoured truck. She had dyed red hair and must've put on her make-up with a trowel 'cause it was that thick.

'How d'you do?' I said, offering her my hand.

'My! Aren't you polite?!' the woman laughed. 'How do you do yourself. I'm Alice.'

And she gave me a bear hug that crushed my ribs and left me in quite a lot of pain. I tried for a smile, afraid to open my mouth again for fear I might give her something else to laugh at.

'Let me warn all of you, the crowd tonight is a little rowdy,' said Alice, turning to the others. 'We've got a couple of birthday parties in, plus a hen night.'

'A hen night. Oh no!' groaned Jaxon.

At my look of confusion, Alice told me, 'Hen nights are the worst. I can deal with men who get out of line but even I can't cope with the women. I have to call in my bouncers.' She turned to Jaxon and the others. 'You're all in for quite a time.'

For one brief second I thought, I
hoped
she was joking. The look on the guys' faces said otherwise.

'Great,' Sonny growled. 'Just great.'

'Hey!' said Alice. 'That's why you earn the big dosh!'

Sonny just snorted at that.

We were escorted through the club and to the changing room. The place had a different odour to the Dew Drop Inn. Russell's reeked with the sweetish smell of beer and the sharp catch of cigarette smoke and other less legal aromas. I looked around the club, which was already three quarters full even though it'd only been open for about half an hour, and my heart sank. I was the only Cross in the place and I stuck out like a throbbing thumb. At least there had been Nought staff in the Dew Drop Inn, so that Jaxon, Rhino and Sonny wouldn't feel totally isolated. OK, so the Noughts were waiters and serving behind the bar but at least they had been present. In this place, it felt like all eyes were upon me and I could feel myself getting hotter and more uncomfortable.

'What's she doing in here?'

'Who's the dagger?'

A number of the comments being made about me reached my ears. Goodness only knew what was being said that I couldn't hear.

'Are you the dance act then?' called out one woman as we walked past.

'Don't you wish!' Jaxon shot back.

'You look like you're hiding something.' A nought man looked me up and down as I walked past him. 'How about if I stop and search you?'

A few catcalls and whistles began to follow us across the floor. I was already nostalgic for Meggie's armchair in front of the TV. We entered a small room with PRIVATE on the door. It was in between the men's and women's toilets, which were already smelling pretty ripe. Alice led the way into the private room first and we all trooped after her. I looked for somewhere at least screened off where I could change. There was nothing. Six chairs, a wall mirror, a lino-covered floor, a dangling light bulb and a box of tissues on the shelf-like table beneath the mirror – that was it. Not even a fan heater to take the chill off the place or a lampshade over the bulb. That would teach me. I should've worn the outfit I wanted to perform in to the club, but I had thought, facilities-wise, this one would be on a par with the Dew Drop Inn. It wasn't even close.

'You're the warm-up act for tonight so you're on in five minutes – and you'd better be good.' The last was said directly to me.

And if I was nervous before, it was nothing compared to just how sick I now felt. Every nerve clanged and jangled like a bad orchestra warming up. I'd been anxious in the Dew Drop Inn but when they wouldn't let us in the front door, my anger had taken over and got me through my one song. But that wasn't the case now. As I watched Alice leave, I half wanted her to turn round and say something to piss me off. At least then, I'd have something more than this feeling of panic to concentrate on. But she just headed straight out of the door without so much as a backwards glance. The moment Alice left the room I turned to Jaxon, Sonny and Rhino.

'Where am I supposed to change?'

'At home?' Sonny ventured.

I glared at him. 'I'll remember that for the next gig, but in the meantime?'

'In here, with us then,' Jaxon said impatiently.

'I'm not showing you three what I haven't got,' I protested.

'Then what would you suggest?' asked Sonny.

I was about to propose that they turn their backs or maybe leave the room, but I could imagine how that one would go down.

'I'll go and change in the toilets,' I said with a sigh.

Gathering up my small holdall, I headed out of the room. I felt like saying that Sonny, Rhino and Jaxon should've been the ones to leave the room, not me. But there was more chance of blue snow falling in summer than that happening. I walked into the women's toilets deep in my own thoughts. So I didn't realize I had company until a bony finger prodded my shoulder blade. I spun round.

It was Amy, the singer with the band before I arrived. She'd followed me in. And from the look on her face she was after blood. My blood.

'You think you're real slick, don't you?' Amy told me.

I didn't answer. Instinct told me to keep my mouth shut.

'You think Jaxon cares about you? He's only using you so that the band can play in Cross clubs. You're just his meal ticket.'

Well, I already knew that. If Amy thought I was going to get all worked up over that fact then she about to be very disappointed.

'And he reckons you'll be easy to get into bed,' Amy continued, when I still didn't speak. 'You've been to bed with one nought so what difference would another one make? You obviously like your meat rare – that's what he said.'

Which was so ludicrous I almost laughed out loud. I didn't much care if Jaxon said it or if Amy was making it all up but I didn't like the look on Amy's face when she saw she wasn't getting to me. I took a quick look around. Amy and I were alone, worst luck. Mind you, in this place I couldn't guarantee that I'd have too many allies. I was sure Amy wasn't the only Nought in the place ready to kick my butt.

'You lot make me sick.' Amy came closer so that she sprayed my face with saliva when she spoke. 'Our club, our music and you're still in here trying to take it over. I should be with the band, not you.'

I wanted to tell her to take it up with Jaxon. I wanted to tell her to back off and leave me alone. But I said nothing, sensing that she had a lot to get off her chest. Why had she picked me instead of Jaxon to have a go at though? Maybe because I was the softer target. Maybe she thought I'd care more or that she'd be able to get through to me.

Or just get to me.

'You make me more than sick,' she repeated.

'Look, Jaxon asked
me
to sing with the band, not the other way round.'

'You could've said no. You should've,' Amy shot back. 'You don't belong here. And you certainly don't belong with the band. I don't know what Jaxon sees in you.'

I frowned, not happy with the way she was making it seem like there was something more between Jaxon and me than a business relationship.

'Jaxon likes the way I sing. That's it. End of story. Bye bye. See you later,' I told her.

'Yeah, right,' Amy scoffed. 'We both know it's just a matter of time before you end up in his bed. From what I've heard you don't mind a bit of slumming. You were with that terrorist Callum McGregor, weren't you? Even I wouldn't crawl into bed with someone from the Liberation Militia.'

Enough was enough.

'If you've finished, I need to get changed,' I told her.

She glared at me, hatred personified, and I knew the split second before she did it what she was about to do. She pounced. There's no other way to describe it. She jumped at me, ready to scratch my eyes clean out of their sockets.

But that wasn't going to happen.

I raised my right arm to block her hands and shoved her to one side. A few years earlier, I'd been jumped in the girls' toilets at my school and had the crap beaten out of me. After that I swore no one would ever do that to me again. Ever. And I meant it. Amy fell against the wall, then turned and was stupid enough to come at me again. I twisted my body round so that I was sideways on to her and she'd have less of a target before directing my fist down and out. I connected with her stomach and sent her crashing backwards. She lay sprawled on the ground, dazed.

'I'd quit whilst you're behind if I were you,' I told her quietly. 'Because I'm not going to let you lay one finger on me. That's not going to happen.'

'You'll be . . . sorry,' Amy coughed. 'If it's the last thing I do I'll make sure you're sorry.'

I sighed inwardly. Was I ever going to get through one of these gigs without someone threatening me? It certainly hadn't happened so far. Amy got to her feet and stumbled out of the room, just as two other Nought women walked in. They looked me up and down before heading into the two toilet cubicles.

I pulled off my T-shirt, unzipped my holdall and pulled on my shirt in double-quick time before anyone else could interrupt me. I was just buttoning it up when one of the Nought women emerged from the cubicle. But instead of washing her hands, she leaned against one of the two sinks watching me.

I carried on buttoning up my blouse. The other Nought flushed the loo and came out of her cubicle. She washed her hands, shaking her head at her friend. I picked up my holdall and headed out of the door, making sure that I didn't hurry or look in any way flustered – even though my stomach was turning over inside me. I had my hand on the door marked
PRIVATE
when the others trooped out.

'Let's do this,' said Jaxon.

'Is five minutes up already?' I groaned. Just a minute's peace to collect my thoughts would've been welcome.

'Are you OK?' Sonny asked.

'Why?'

'You look a little . . . flustered,' said Sonny.

At that, Jaxon peered at me anxiously.

'I'm fine,' I told him.

''Course you are. It's show time,' Jaxon told me with an inane, show-business grin on his face.

I glanced up at Sonny. A slight frown turned down his lips as he regarded me. I turned up my lips to resemble some kind of smile. He didn't say anything but I could sense he wasn't convinced. I threw my holdall across the room and headed out after them. The guys looked relatively relaxed. But then they would. They weren't the ones being glared at and assaulted in the toilets before even one note was played. I was about to be greeted by an audience full of malice. Something told me this wasn't going to be the best night of my life.