‘Did you?’ Lou asks, and her voice is so dripping in hope that Jess wants to laugh, cry and scream all at the same time. Except she’s too tired to do any of them.
‘Yeah,’ she manages. ‘Sorry.’
‘Okay, well, I guess biscuits are better than nothing.’
‘Can I go now?’
Lou nods, looks away, dejected. Jess closes the kitchen door behind her – she’s doesn’t even feel like hanging out with Amber right now – and tackles the stairs. She’s exhausted, weighed down by fear, and every step takes effort. But eventually she reaches her bedroom and flops down onto her bed.
Justin is wrong, she thinks as she strokes her jawline with two fingers, feeling for the soft hair that she discovered there a couple of days ago (something else that doesn’t make sense – the feel of it both comforting and gross). She doesn’t give two fucks about being skinny. It’s more that she’s too full to eat. A supersize serving of dread that’s been growing in her gut for more than a year, waiting to explode.
Which it will do in exactly seven days’ time.
She’s been thinking about nothing but the upcoming trial since last February and yet getting that envelope through the post – and the cold, formal letter inside – sparked a whole new level of terror.
And it wasn’t even about the actual trial. The letter says she’s got to have a meeting with the Crown Prosecution Service and their advocate – whatever that means – who’s going to argue the case in court. The letter called it an opportunity for Jess to familiarise herself with what will happen on the day. A valuable experience to help put her at ease. What the fuck is valuable about talking to a bunch of strangers who use words she doesn’t understand? People who’ve got the power to put her in jail? She’s never been inside a court, didn’t even know about them when Tyler got done for her mum’s murder. But she’s seen enough movies since to know how scary they are.
God, she’s going to be sick. She rolls onto her side, closes her eyes. Bile collects underneath her tongue, but she waits, and the moment passes. There’s a knock at the door, followed immediately by it swinging open. Without looking, Jess knows it’s Amber. Lou and Justin would never walk inside until she gave them permission.
‘What’s going on?’ Amber demands, dropping onto the end of Jess’s bed. ‘Why the fuck have you stopped eating?’
‘I haven’t,’ Jess whispers lamely.
‘It will kill you; you do realise that?’ Amber throws back. ‘And then it will just be me on my own. Dead mum, no dad, dead sister. It’s easy to cover for you – Lou is so gullible, it’s embarrassing – but that’s not a good thing. Not with this anyway.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jess whispers, heavy tears now rolling onto the pillow. ‘I want to eat,’ she tries to explain. ‘But when I look at the food, I don’t know … It looks disgusting. Like a pile of maggots.’
‘That’s bullshit talk!’ Amber spits back, her eyes ablaze. ‘You need to snap out of this crap, all right?’ She’s so angry she’s almost snarling. But Jess knows Amber. And how much meaner she is when real feelings threaten.
‘I will, I promise.’
‘And soon, yeah? You’re a fucking skeleton, Jess. You can’t keep doing this.’
‘I said I’d eat, okay?’
Amber doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t move either. She hovers at the end of Jess’s bed, staring – her expression both furious and upset. Jess needs her to leave; needs some space outside the glare of her sister’s eyes.
‘I’m really tired now though,’ she says. ‘I’ll get some sleep and then have some toast when I wake up.’
Amber’s face softens very slightly. ‘You promise?’
‘On my life.’ The words hang between them for a moment, then Amber shakes her head, lets out a resigned sigh, and leaves the room.
Jess rolls onto her back. Amber is right. She is slowly killing herself. And she doesn’t want to die – at least not always. Sometimes it feels like the easiest way out, in the middle of the night when the house is deathly silent and she can’t sleep, but those thoughts never last. She wants to escape her life, her future, not destroy it.
And there is another way.
It’s the cowardly thing to do, so she doesn’t understand why it’s so fucking scary. With just one phone call, the dread would vanish. And hopefully, with it, the tightness in her throat; her chest; her gut. Lou would stop crying; Justin might look at her again. And most importantly, Amber wouldn’t have to worry about losing her sister.
She can hardly move she’s so tired. But she forces herself to roll over, then sit up. Her phone is still in her school bag. She’s even lost interest in that over the last few months. The funny memes that mock her. The inspirational quotes that shame her. But this is her way out. She finds her social worker’s contact details with shaking fingers and presses on her number.
‘Hello, Gail Thompson.’
‘Um, it’s Jess,’ she starts. Her head is swimming now. She lies back down but keeps the phone by her ear.
‘Hi, Jess,’ Gail says, her voice slowing. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I can’t do it,’ she whispers. Tears bubble in the corners of her eyes.
‘Can’t do what?’ The words are blunt, but Gail’s tone is soft enough for Jess to keep going.
‘I can’t go to court.’
‘Oh, okay, I see.’ Jess imagines Gail’s mind whirring, her hair flaring with the static it causes. ‘I could talk to DS Sawyer,’ she suggests. ‘See if you could give your evidence by video link instead. There are lots of options for child witnesses. Would that be better?’
‘I can’t do any of it, Gail. Court. Telling everyone what I saw. Answering their questions. It was too long ago; I can’t remember anything.’
‘You’ll have a chance to read your statement—’
‘No, Gail. No. I just can’t.’
Gail hesitates. She knows about Jess’s issues with eating, her query anorexia except without a diagnosis because the waiting list to see a specialist is too long. ‘Jess, I’m really sorry,’ she says carefully. ‘But it’s not that easy.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’re a witness in a criminal case. You provided a signed statement. The CPS decide whether it goes to court, not you.’
‘What? No!’ Panic rises in Jess’s chest. She pushes up against the headboard. ‘So how do I get out of it?’
‘You’re the only witness,’ Gail reminds her quietly. ‘Without your testimony, I imagine the CPS wouldn’t have a case. I’m sorry, but I don’t think you can get out of it.’
‘But I didn’t see anything!’ Jess blurts out.
A second lapses as Gail catches up. ‘What?’
‘Yes, sorry,’ Jess babbles. ‘I made it all up. I didn’t look through that window at all.’
‘Why would you do that?’ Gail asks. She’s trying to sound calm, but her quivering voice gives her away.
‘I … I don’t know.’
‘Did the boy, Sean Russo, force you to?’
‘What? No. Nothing like that.’ Jess pulls her knees up to her chest; wishes she could fold in on herself so tightly that she disappeared. ‘But I didn’t see anything, so the CPS won’t want me to go to court, will they?’
ONE YEAR BEFORE
Wednesday 17th May 2023
