He tries to shout for help but there’s no air in his lungs. It takes every ounce of energy to crawl out of the sea and back onto the sand.
Danny lies on the sand for what feels like for ever, waiting for the final lurch of his heart. But his heart doesn’t stop beating and he doesn’t black out. Instead, very, very gradually his pulse begins to slow, his breathing deepens and his vision returns to normal. He reaches his fingers into the sand and rakes it over and over, relishing the sensation of the soft grains under his fingertips. Every muscle in his body feels weak and exhausted and his brain feels numb. It was a panic attack, just a panic attack. Honor’s not going to die.
As he continues to dig his fingers into the sand he hears a soft whimpering sound from further up the beach. He freezes, listening intently. The sound gets louder. It’s not whimpering anymore. It’s a screech of pain. He looks towards Jessie, the only other person on the beach apart from him. She’s lying with a blanket wrapped around her but one corner is in the fire and flames are leaping at her feet.
Chapter 27
JESSIE
Eighteen months earlier
Tom hasn’t been himself for weeks. He’s never really been keen on spending time with the family, not since he hit his teens anyway, but we hardly see him anymore. It’s not as if he’s at work, he quit his job as a service station chef a couple of months ago. He just hangs round the house all day, playing PlayStation and watching films in his room or else sneaking down to the shed at the bottom of the garden to drink and smoke. Mum and Dad don’t know what to do. They’ve tried sitting him down and having a word with him. Dad went for the tough love approach, Mum was more understanding, but it didn’t change anything. It’s as though my brother’s built a huge, invisible wall around him that none of us can smash through. Mum got in touch with a couple of his friends to ask if they knew what was wrong but they said they hadn’t seen him for ages. They’d invited him out for drinks, they told her, but he’d either turn up for one and then leave or not turn up at all.
Dad thinks Tom’s struggling because most of his mates have left London. Unlike my brother, who went to catering college, his friends went to university in different parts of the UK, then got jobs elsewhere and haven’t come back. I’ve seen some of their Instagram accounts, showing off about their fancy cars, their action-packed holidays and their fit girlfriends. Tom still lives at home and he split up with his girlfriend six months ago. When I asked him why, he just shrugged and said, ‘Shit happens.’
I think that’s when Tom really started getting depressed. Because that’s what’s wrong with him. Depression. I might be young but I’m not stupid. I know that’s why he stopped going to work and lay in bed all day after they sacked him. There’s a part of me that feels sorry for him but I’m angry with him too. He’s all Mum and Dad can talk about – Tom this, Tom that. What are we going to do about Tom? I know they’ve tried to get him to go and see the GP but he didn’t turn up. When Mum confronted him about it he said there was nothing wrong with him and he just wanted to be left alone.
Earlier tonight he came down to the kitchen while I was doing my homework, a bottle of vodka and a pack of fags in one hand, and he stood at the counter, staring at me. I looked up at him and said, ‘All right?’ and he shook his head and said, ‘No, not really.’
‘Why?’
‘Life.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘Everything.’
‘So change it then.’
He laughed then. ‘I wish it was that easy.’
‘Just get a job,’ I said. ‘That’ll help.’
He gave me a long look then said, ‘Will it?’
‘I dunno. At least then you’d have some money to do stuff.’
‘Like what? Buy stuff I don’t really need? Go out drinking? Go on holiday? All that stuff is meaningless.’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘No, I guess it’s not when you’re fifteen.’
I rolled my eyes.
‘Jessie,’ he said softly. ‘Do you ever think about death?’
I sat back in my seat and stared at him. ‘No.’
I glanced towards the kitchen door, hoping Mum and Dad would walk through it. But the door was shut and Mum and Dad weren’t in. They hadn’t been out in for ever, not even to the cinema, and when they were offered a weekend on the Isle of Wight to celebrate one of their oldest friend’s fiftieth birthday they agonized over it for days. I heard them, chatting in the living room about whether it was a good idea to leave me and Tom alone. Mum was worried that Tom would get too drunk to look after me. Dad said that I was sensible enough to knock for the neighbours if anything happened. It took him a while to convince her but he got there in the end. I was pleased. With any luck they’d have a brilliant time and wouldn’t be so stressed out when they came back.
‘I do.’ Tom leant back against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. ‘I think about death a lot.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t,’ I said. ‘That’s morbid.’
‘I’m not scared. I used to be, when I was kid, but I’m not anymore.’
He might not have been scared of death but I was scared of him, listening to him talk like that. I felt completely out of my depth. Was he thinking about killing himself? Was that what he was hinting at? Well, he needed to get that thought out of his head straight away. I had to change the subject.
‘You know the NCT group are thinking about Greece next summer, don’t you?’ I said. ‘For the group holiday.’
‘Why are you telling me?’ He laughs dryly. ‘I haven’t been for years. I’m too old for that crap, Jess. What twenty-three-year-old goes on holiday with their parents and a bunch of randoms they met bouncing on birthing balls?’
I’d thought mentioning a holiday would give him something to look forward to but he wasn’t interested. There had to be something I could say to stop him thinking dark thoughts and give him something to get excited about.
‘Will you teach me how to bake?’
He laughed softly. ‘You? Bake? Since when?’
‘Since Bake-Off. I want to learn how to make cakes and… and bread.’
‘I’m not exactly Paul Hollywood.’
‘I don’t care. Will you teach me?’
The strangest expression passed over his face and he rounded the counter and wrapped me in his arms.
‘You’re such a kind-hearted girl, Jessie. Stay that way. Don’t ever let go of that bit of you.’ He hugged me tightly and kissed me on the top of my head. ‘I love you, you know that, don’t you?’
I stiffened. We weren’t a very huggy family and physical affection made me feel awkward. So instead of saying, ‘I love you too,’ I said, ‘Yeah, yeah’ and wriggled out of his arms.
I wake with a start. The alarm clock on my bedside table glows 1.43 a.m. Something’s wrong, I can feel it in the pit of my belly, but it isn’t until I sniff the air that I realize why I’ve woken up.
Smoke. Instinctively I turn to look out of the window, shoving the curtain out of the way to peer outside. Directly below my bedroom the garden is shrouded in darkness but light is dancing in the window of the shed at the end of the path. Light… or… I squint my eyes. Flames!