Little White Lies (15 page)

“It
is
serious.” He nods. “I could’ve been killed today.”

“But Kenny couldn’t have known that you would ride your bike drunk!” I protest. “It was an accident!”

“And poisoning Heidi?” Christian asks. “Was that an accident too?”

I bite my lip.

“Who knows what he’ll do next? What he’s capable of?” Christian says. “You need to call the police, Louise.”

“I will.” I nod, gripping the phone tightly. “Just... just give me tonight, okay? My gran’s visiting—I don’t want to upset her, she’s got a weak heart. I’ll call them tomorrow.”

He nods. “Okay.”

“Actually, I’d better get back to her, check she’s all right,” I say, putting his phone down and opening the front door.

“Lou?” Christian says as I walk away. “Just... be careful, okay?”

I nod. “Good night, Christian.”

As he closes the door behind me I spot Gran lit by a streetlight halfway down the street, her mobile pressed to her ear.

I hurry up to her.

“Sorry about that, Gran, Christian just—”

“Oh my God!” She stares at me, her eyes shining with tears. “
That’s
who—”

“Gran?” I freeze. “Gran, what’s the matter? Are you all right?”

Suddenly she gasps and clutches her chest, her mobile phone dropping heavily to the ground. I rush forward as she topples headfirst into my arms.

“Oh my God!
Gran!
” She goes limp and heavy and I can’t hold her, so I lay her down gently on the cold, hard pavement, panic rising inside me like steam, bubbling, blinding, suffocating. “Gran, can you hear me?” She doesn’t move.
“Gran!”

I stare at her helplessly, trying to focus, concentrate.
Think.
What should I do? CPR? Put her on her side? Every episode of
ER
I’ve ever seen streams through my mind, but I don’t know what I’m doing—
what if I do the wrong thing?

My eyes fall on Gran’s dropped mobile and I pounce on it, my fingers fumbling in their rush to call 999, my eyes glued to her unmoving body.

“An ambulance is on its way,” the man says calmly after I give him the address. “It’ll be about twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?”
I cry. “What if she doesn’t have that long?”

“Is she breathing?” he asks. “Has she got a pulse?”

“I don’t know! I don’t think so!” But what if I’m doing it wrong? My own pulse races madly.

“Okay, then you’ll have to perform CPR.”

“What?”

I wedge the phone against my shoulder as he tells me what to do, but it’s impossible to focus. I position my hands on Gran’s chest as he instructs and tentatively begin to push, but as I feel her fragile bones beneath my palms, my blood rushes in my ears.

“Oh God, what if I’m not doing it right? What if I’m doing it too hard—or not hard enough?” I can barely breathe myself, with the tears gushing down my face.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Just—”

Then the line goes dead.

“Hello?” I say quickly. “
Hello?
” I stare at the phone. No battery.

Shit!

And now I’ve lost count! I can’t do this! I’ve no idea what to do—I’ve never even done first aid!

But Christian has
.

The thought flashes into my mind, and in an instant I’m on my feet and racing towards his house. Why didn’t I think of him
sooner
?

I shove his garden gate open, sprint up the path, and batter on his door until it finally opens and I fall inside.

“Louise!” Christian catches me in his arms, his eyes wide in surprise. “What’s wrong? Is it Kenny?”

I shake my head furiously, fighting for breath. “It’s my gran! She’s hurt—you have to come!” I pull on his arm, but he hesitates.

“You need to call an ambulance,” he says. “Use my phone.”

“I
have
!” I cry. “They’re coming, but they’re twenty minutes away. The man on the phone told me to do CPR, but I can’t, I don’t know what I’m doing and she’s not... she’s not moving!”

“Lou.” He swallows, his eyes troubled. “Calm down—I’ll tell you what to do.”

“There isn’t
time
! You have to come now!” I wail, tears streaking down my cheeks. “Please, Christian,” I beg, my insides crumpling. “Please! She might die!”

He nods. “Okay, let’s go.”

Within seconds we’re both kneeling by Gran’s side.

She hasn’t moved.

“What’s her name?”

I hesitate. “Cynthia Brown.”

“Mrs. Brown?” Christian kneels beside her. “Cynthia, can you hear me?” He checks her breathing and pulse, then quickly, calmly, starts pumping at her chest, counting under his breath.

I watch helplessly, each thump of Christian’s palms pounding painfully in my own chest. I’d never have been able to press so hard, too scared of hurting Gran, but what if it’s too late? I hug my arms, each second feeling more and more hopeless.

She’s gone, I know it.

Suddenly there’s a gasp of air and Gran coughs. I jolt upright, hopeful, fearful.

“Is she—”

“She’s breathing.” Christian smiles. “Her pulse is weak, though.”

He gently rolls her onto her side, and I can hear her breathing—
faint rasps from deep within her throat.

“Will she be okay?” I whisper.

“I hope so,” he says quietly, brushing Gran’s hair from her face. “Now all we can do is wait for the ambulance.” He looks at me. “Will you be all right? Only I—I really need to get back.”

“Don’t leave!” I panic. “Don’t leave me alone. What if she stops breathing again? What if the ambulance doesn’t get here in time? What if...” Fear and shame flood my head, and suddenly I’m sobbing uncontroll
ably.

“Hey.” Christian wraps me in his arms. “Shh, it’s okay. Here, you’re freezing.” He gives me his red hoodie, but it doesn’t stop my shivering.

“If you hadn’t been here...” I sniff. “She’d have—”

“But I
was
here,” Christian soothes, holding me close. “She’ll be okay.”

He strokes my hair, his arms warm around me as we rock gently, my eyes glued to Gran. I hold her hand tightly as Christian calls Vix, tells her what happened.

“Listen,” he says finally. “I’ve really got to go, but Vix is on her way and the ambulance will be here any minute.”

“Please stay. Just till they get here.” My voice cracks as I look up at him, his face tinted yellow in the glow of the streetlight. “I’m so scared.”

He strokes a hair gently from my face, tracing the line of my cheekbone.

“Please?”

“Of course,” he whispers, his lips so soft as he gently kisses my forehead. “Of course I will.”

He holds me tighter and I burrow myself deeper into his chest, trying to lose myself in him, his warmth, his scent, his comfort, my mind tangling in knots.

“Shh,” he whispers. “It’s all right.”

But it’s not all right. None of it is. I owe him so much. I need him so much. Christian, of all people.

Suddenly shrill sirens pierce the silence like banshees wailing wildly through the night; then finally an ambulance speeds into view, lights flashing like a disco, the spectacle drawing curious neighbors and shoppers flocking to the scene.

“You did well.” A paramedic smiles at me as they carry Gran into the ambulance on a stretcher. “By performing CPR you might well have saved your gran’s life.”

“Oh, I didn’t—it wasn’t me,” I stammer. “It was Christian.”

“Well done, mate,” the paramedic says.

“Will she be okay?” Christian asks.

“We’ll know more once we’ve checked her over at the hospital. Do you want to come with her?”

I nod quickly and climb into the ambulance as more sirens begin to howl through the night, getting increasingly louder.

“How many ambulances did you call?” Christian smiles.

Suddenly a police car rounds the corner and his face falls.

“You didn’t call the police too, did you, love?” the paramedic says, climbing into the ambulance beside me.

“No, I—I don’t know what they’re doing here.”

“I’ll go and find out,” Christian says quietly. “Take care, Lou.”

“Christian...”

He looks back over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I tell him sincerely. “For everything.”

He smiles briefly; then the ambulance door slams shut, blocking my view as we drive away.

“You’re awake!”

I stop pacing and turn to see Vix hurrying down the hospital corridor towards me with two Styrofoam cups. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Thanks,” I say gratefully, perching on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs outside Gran’s room.

Vix plops down beside me and hands me a cup. “Is there any news?”

“Gran still hasn’t woken up,” I sigh. “But the doctor came by a few minutes ago to tell me she’s stable.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Vix says brightly.

“I hope so.”
It could be worse
. I rub my eyes. “I can’t believe I slept.”

“You needed to,” Vix says kindly. “It must’ve been awful, your poor gran collapsing in the street like that. Thank God Christian was there, huh?” She beams. “What a hero.”

I smile weakly.

“Good fashion taste too.” She nods approvingly.

“What?”

“Suits you.” She smiles, and I realize I’m still wearing Christian’s red hoodie from last night. “Have you heard from him this morning?”

“No.” I shake my head. “My phone’s been off, and I haven’t seen him since I got into the ambulance with Gran and he went off to deal with the police.”

“Yeah...,” Vix says thoughtfully. “About that.”

“What?”

“Well, doesn’t it seem
odd
to you? The police turning up, sirens blaring, when you didn’t even
call
them?”

I shrug. “I assumed it was a mix-up.”

“But what if it
wasn’t
?” Vix says, her eyes sparkling. “Listen, when I arrived at Christian’s, after you’d gone, the police were still there and I overheard one of the officers saying—get this—that Christian had “broken his curfew
,
”
but it was a false alarm as he was just down the street saving an old lady’s life! What do you think that
means
?”

I swallow hard. “Maybe you misheard?”

“That’s what I thought at first,” Vix admits. “That’s why I didn’t mention it last night. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and then suddenly it started to make sense. Don’t you think it’s strange that Christian
never
wants to stay out late, and he
never
does the evening shift at the pub, plus he
always
turned you down when you asked him for a drink after work, even though he
obviously
likes you?”

I stare at her numbly, my breath caught in my throat. She’s right.

“The only question is,
why
would he have a curfew?” Vix frowns thoughtfully as I desperately rack my brains.

“Oh my God!” I say suddenly. “He must be in witness protection!”

“What?”

“I saw a film once where, in order to safeguard a witness, the police kept tabs on them—and at night there was an alarm that went off if they weren’t at home!” I say, thinking quickly. “Don’t you see?” I count off on my fingers: “
That’s
why he dyes his hair,
that’s
why he doesn’t want his photo taken, and
that’s
why the police rushed round last night—they thought he was in danger because he wasn’t at home!”

Vix’s eyes gleam excitedly.
“Witness protection?”

“It makes sense!” I insist. “Christian even told us that his friend was stabbed
in front of him
last year
,
and that the killer went to jail. He must have testified against his friend’s murderer, and now they’re out for revenge!”

“Bloody hell!” Vix cries. “You’re right. It all fits! How did I miss it?”

“He did a good job of hiding his secret,” I say somberly. “And now we have to keep it too—we mustn’t let on we know, Vix.”

“Course not,” she says gravely. “Poor Christian. How could you live like that? Changing your whole identity, lying to everyone you meet?” She looks up suddenly. “I mean... well, I suppose you two are more alike than you knew, huh?”

I smile weakly.

“But for Christian... knowing your secret could be revealed at any moment, that your whole life is on the line if the wrong people find you, having to hide away, to be home early every night—except last night.” She looks up at me, her eyes wide. “Last night he broke his curfew and put his cover in danger. For you.” She sighs dramatically. “It must be love.”

A cold feeling lodges in my gut as I remember how reluctant Christian was to leave his house last night. But when I begged him to help me he did. He came. He stayed. He put himself at risk. He
broke his curfew
.

For me?

“And then, as if Christian’s life wasn’t hard enough, along comes jealous Kenny with his petty vendetta!” Vix says.

I look up. “Christian told you about his theory?”

She nods. “I can really pick ’em, huh? Not only is the guy I fancy
besotted
with my best friend, he’s also a complete psycho! Spiking Christian’s drinks, scratching his bike, ordering pizzas, poisoning Heidi, conjuring up bogus Facebook offers—even framing him for the pub break-in!”

I bite my lip.

“Except... he didn’t...,” Vix says slowly.

I look up. “What?”

“Lou, Kenny
didn’t
break into the bar—he couldn’t have—I’ve just remembered he was with
me
that night. We went clubbing.”

“What?”
I stare at her. “You didn’t tell me you went clubbing with Kenny.”

“Well, no—you’d been so down on him that day at the pub, and it wasn’t as if you could exactly come with us on your bad ankle—but that’s not the point! There’s no
way
Kenny could’ve broken into the bar. The police said the CCTV cameras got smashed at two-fifteen, and Kenny was still in the taxi when it dropped me off at two-thirty!” Suddenly Vix’s eyes flash. “Lou, what if Kenny wasn’t behind
any
of it?”

“What do you mean?” I say uneasily.

“What if
someone else
has been harassing Christian all along? Someone involved in the murder, who’s figured out who Christian is—
where
he is—someone who wants to... to silence him!” Vix cries, her eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them. “Lou, Christian’s in danger—we have to warn him!”

“Can’t you go any
faster
?” Vix yells at the taxi driver as we hurry back to Christian’s house. “This is a matter of life and death!”

10 Missed Calls
my phone screen reminds me as it flickers to life. Guiltily, I remember how I ignored Christian’s calls yesterday—the whole reason I switched my phone off in the first place.

I scroll down the list. Five from Christian and five from Aunt Grace—probably worried because she can’t get hold of Gran. I meant to ring her last night to tell her what happened, but she’s got enough to worry about with Poppy in a coma, so I didn’t want to upset her needlessly, and it’s not as if she could come rushing all the way up from London in the middle of the night with Millie, so I kept putting it off, hoping that there would be better news to report... and then it just got too late to call. But now Gran’s stable.

“I need to call my aunt,” I tell Vix, dialing Grace’s number. “Tell her about Gran—”

“Later!” Vix insists, grabbing my phone and scrolling through my contacts. “We need to reach Christian
now
!”

“But—”

“What if we’re too late?” Vix cries, handing it back to me as it rings. “It’s my fault! I should’ve remembered I was with Kenny during the break-in when Christian told me he thought Kenny was behind it all—I could’ve figured it all out then, and Christian would know he’s in danger!”

“But we don’t
know
Christian’s in danger,” I reason. “If he dropped his pub keys on the way home,
anyone
could have found them and broken into the pub. We don’t know anyone’s discovered who he really is, and if his identity’s safe, we really shouldn’t let on we know—it’ll just freak him out.”

Vix thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. “We can’t take that risk, Lou—Christian deserves to be warned that the bad guys might be on to him.”

“But Vix, if the ‘bad guys’
have
discovered Christian’s location, why haven’t they confronted him?” I counter. “Why would they just faff around on Facebook and break into an empty pub? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense!” Vix protests. “It’s too easy, too
risky
to attack Christian directly—the police would just move him somewhere else, right? They’d have to find him all over again! Much better to be subtle, to make his life a living hell without being obvious about it.”

“Well... okay, but by
that
reasoning Christian’s safe, then, isn’t he?” I argue. “If they’re all about being subtle?”

She shakes her head. “That was before Christian broke his curfew,” she says. “If they’re monitoring Christian, if they’re nearby, they probably saw the police car last night, and now they might panic, thinking he’s about to be moved. They could do something rash.”

“Rash?”

“Like attack him or confront him, or... oh my God,
burn his house down
!”

“Vix, calm down. No one’s going to burn down any houses!”

“No, Lou,
look!
”

She points out the window and my heart leaps into my throat. A cloud of thick black smoke billows into the sky from a nearby road.

“
Oh my God!
”
I stare at it, horrified.
It can’t be.
...

“Hurry up!”
Vix yells at the driver.

“All right!” he grumbles. “Keep your hair on!”

But I can’t. Christian’s still not answering his phone and my pulse pounds deafeningly in my ears as we get closer, closer. Then, as we round the corner onto his road, my heart stops completely.

Flames twelve meters high reach for the sky and smoke surges from the broken lounge window, engulfing Christian’s house and motorbike.

“Christian!”
I scream, jumping out of the taxi as it pulls over. I barge through the small crowd of onlookers, past a man trying hopelessly to quench the roaring fire with a flimsy garden hose, and get as far as the doorstep before I start coughing.

“Christian!” I shout.
“Christian!”

“Lou!” Vix screams behind me. “Lou—stop!”

“Has someone called the fire brigade?” I yell. “CHRISTIAN!” My eyes sting as I push against the door, smoke flooding my lungs.

“Lou!” Vix grabs my arm. “Get back!”

“No!” I protest.

“Wait, girls! Stop!” the man with the hose yells. “The fire brigade’s on its way and there’s no one in there!”

“What?” I say hopefully. “Are you sure?”

He nods. “I saw the lad who lives here leave over an hour ago, before the attack.”

I stare at him. “Attack?”

He nods. “Two men drove up in a blue car and threw a petrol bomb straight through the window! Can you believe it?”

“Petrol bomb?”
My blood runs cold. Vix is right; someone’s out to hurt Christian—even kill him. He’s in serious danger—whe
rever he is.

I check my watch. Ten-thirty. Of course—it’s
Sunday
!

“Lou, wait!” Vix cries as I wrench myself from her grasp, fly through the gate, and fling myself into my car, still parked on the road after last night. “I’ll come with you!”

“No!” I tell her. “Stay here—call me if Christian comes back, if you hear anything at all!”

I slam the door and drive quickly to St. Augustine’s church, just praying I find him before those men do.

The service must have just ended, because the churchyard is busy, buzzing with dozens of people who aren’t Christian. I scan them all, searching desperately for his face, his wild black hair.

I pull out my phone and try his number again, crossing my fingers tightly as it rings. And rings and rings and rings. Finally I reach his voice mail.

“Christian! It’s Lou. Call me!” I beg. “Something’s happened at your house. If you’re all right, please call me.” I hang up miserably.
Please, please, please be okay
.

I rush up to an old couple. “Have you seen Christian?”

They shake their heads.

“Have you seen the guy who plays the organ?” I ask a young mum.

“Sorry, love.”

I run from person to person, asking everyone I meet, but no one’s seen him.

What if he didn’t play the organ today? What if he’d just nipped to the corner shop instead and was back in his house when the fire started?
What if he’s still in there now
? The wail of a fire engine in the distance fills me with dread.

“Louise?”

I spin around.
“Christian!”

I fly at him in a tight hug, relief flooding through me like a tidal wave. “Thank
God
!”

“Hi yourself.” He smiles. “How’s your gran?”

“I’ll tell you in the car,” I say, dragging him out of the churchyard. “Come on.”

“What’s going on, Lou?” He frowns as we climb in. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I say, gunning the engine and swinging swiftly out of the car park. “Your house is on fire.”

“What?”

“Someone’s found out where you are—
who
you are,” I babble quickly. “And they set fire to your house, so we have to get out of here. Now. Okay?”

He stares at me, his face pale. “
Who
I am?” he asks quietly.