Amy’s POV
“999. Which service do you require?”
“Ambulance.” I replied, as calmly as I could.
“Get the police as well,” I heard Billy say.
“And police,” I told the operator.
“Transferring you now,” the man on the end of the phone replied.
“Ambulance service. Is the patient breathing?” asked a new voice.
“Billy?” I asked, a little panic in my voice. “Is he breathing?”
Billy felt Jake’s breath on the back of his hand and nodded.
“Yes, he’s breathing,” I told the call handler, “but he’s unconscious. He’s been stabbed and he’s bleeding.”
“OK and where are you?” she asked.
“We’re at the Heritage Hotel on the ring road, we’re in the car park,” I said.
There was a pause as the operator typed into her computer. “OK,” she said, “the ambulance is on its way, but I need you to stay on the line with me and I’m going to ask you some questions and we’re going to try to help the patient together. So I need you to stay calm OK?”
“OK,” I replied.
“So do you know what happened?”
“He was stabbed with a knife and then hit on the head.” I paused. “With a bottle,” I added. “He’s losing a lot of blood.”
“And are you in any danger now?” she asked.
“No, he’s gone, Ritchie, the attacker, he’s gone.”
There were a few more clicks at the other end of the line.
“OK the police are on their way as well,” the operator said. “And do you know the patient?”
“Yes, he’s Jake, he’s my boyfriend,” I replied.
“And how old is Jake?” she asked.
“He’s eighteen,” I said.
“And your name?” she asked.
“I’m Amy.”
“OK Amy,” the operator said. “Everything you tell me, I’m sending to the ambulance, then they know what to expect when they get to you. So you said he’s bleeding.”
“Yes,” I replied.
“And where’s he bleeding from, can you tell?”
“It’s from his left arm, and the back of his head,” I replied. “Should we try to raise his arm?”
“No, don’t move him,” she said. “Is Jake lying down?”
“Yes, he’s on his front on the ground. We’re in the car park.”
“Has he got a coat or can you put something over him to keep him warm?”
“OK,” I said. I was still wearing Jake’s dinner jacket, which he’d given me to put over my shoulders. I shrugged it off and laid it over him.
Suddenly Rob, my step-dad, appeared next to me.
“What happened?” he asked breathlessly.
“I’m on the phone to the ambulance,” I said. “Go to the hotel and get help and some blankets.”
“Amy, are you still there?” the operator asked.
“Yes, I’m still here,” I said.
“And is Jake still breathing?”
I held the back of my hand in front of Jake’s mouth and nose. I felt the gentle warmth of Jake’s breath against my skin. It was a moment of great comfort.
“Yes, he’s still breathing.”
“OK Amy, you’re doing really well. I can see the ambulance is about five minutes away. I’m not going to hang up on you, but I need you to talk to Jake for me. He may be able to hear you. You need to tell him that you’re with him and that help is coming and that you’re going to stay with him. And if anything changes, like he stops breathing, you need to tell me OK?”
“OK,” I said. I kept the phone to my ear, but took Jake’s hand in mine.
“Jake, it’s me, it’s Amy,” I said softly. “It’s OK, the ambulance is coming. We’re getting you help. I love you.”
Then I felt it. It was weak, but real, not imagined: The gentlest squeeze of my hand. It was Jake. He was with me. He was fighting still.
–
“Hello, Jake?” the voice on the end of the phone sounded a little disoriented. I’d woken his mum up.
“It’s Amy,” I said, hearing the strain in my voice. “Jake’s been hurt. I’ve called an ambulance. They’re about to take us to hospital.”
There was a pause as my words sank in.
“Is he OK?” his mum asked. “Is he breathing?”
“Yes,” I replied. “He’s OK, he’s breathing. He’s bleeding a lot though.”
“And are you OK?” Jake’s mum asked.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I said. “Look I’ve got to get in the ambulance, but can you meet me at the hospital? Just come as quick as you can.”
“We’ll both come. We’ll see you there,” she replied.
“OK,” I said, preparing to say goodbye.
“And Amy?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. Thank you for looking after him.”
–
Two hours later, I was sat by Jake’s bedside in the hospital. His head and arm were swathed in bandages, but he was fast asleep and oblivious to all. I watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He looked so peaceful and yet so vulnerable.
That night I realised how much I loved him. There was so much I liked and admired about him – his self-deprecating humour, his quiet dedication to his academic work, his warm singing voice, his calm confidence, his loyalty to his friends, his care for his animals and his determination to be the perfect gentleman in our relationship.
But it was more than that: When I needed him, Jake was always there for me – there to support me, without smothering me with overattentiveness; there to reassure me, without trivialising my concerns; there to celebrate my joy and happiness, without ever trying to hog the limelight; ready to wait for me, however long it took.
And then there was his body. Even covered in bandages, it was clear he had a physique that most teenage boys would envy. His wasn’t the over-pumped torso of a gym fanatic or brain-dead sports jock. His muscles were toned from patient, honest toil – a gentle strength, not one born of aggression. I don’t think Jake realised how good looking he was – for him, his broad shoulders and six-pack were just the occupational hazard of working on the farm – it wasn’t an ideal he was striving for.
Those few times we’d been in bed together, when I’d felt that body against me, he’d made me feel so secure, wrapped up in his arms. He could follow the rhythms of my pleasure, knowing instinctively when to reassure or to hold off, letting me lead when I wanted to. His pleasure was always secondary to him, perhaps that was one of my few frustrations; the gentleman in him made sure that I came first.
I’d kinda been desperate for a boyfriend, as I suppose most eighteen-year-old girls are. It was something I wanted to tick off before leaving school. I didn’t want anything serious, just someone to have a bit of fun with and maybe fool around a little. I didn’t see a first relationship lasting – I’d meet someone for the long-term at university.
But Jake had changed everything. I’d fallen in love – really, truly in love – hopelessly, deeply in love, and quickly too. I’d pretended it wasn’t happening, and maybe it had frightened me a little, but now my only fear was that I would lose him.
I held his hand. “Jake, I love you, please get better, I need you,” I whispered.
The door opened and his mum entered the room. She’d been with the doctor. She smiled warmly at me. She sat down next to me at her son’s bedside.
“It’s good news,” she said. “He’s going to be fine. He’ll wake up tomorrow badly concussed, but he’s going to make a full recovery.”
She saw the wave of relief sweep across my face. I fought the tears welling up in my eyes.
“I love him,” I said. “I really do.”
“I know you do,” she replied. “He loves you too.”
I nodded. “Should I go?” I asked, not sure if Jake’s mum wanted to be alone with her son.
“You can stay here as long as you like,” she said. “But he’s probably going to be asleep until tomorrow lunchtime. If he does wake up before then, it won’t be for long. So, if I were you, I’d go home now and you can come back tomorrow. I’m going to do the same, but his dad’s going to stay with him overnight.”
I nodded and she hugged me.
Then I stood and placed a kiss on Jake’s head. On a whim I took off my necklace and fastened it around him. I turned, feeling a little embarrassed. Jake’s mum was smiling at me.
“He loves you Amy,” she said. “We all love you.”
–
Jake’s POV
It was the smell that woke me. That strong smell of disinfectant that seems to pervade every part of a hospital. The room was bright, but I could tell no more than that. I struggled to focus. Shapes swam in front of me. There were voices – some soft, some sharp. My efforts exhausted, I slept.
I woke again. My vision still blurred, but I could see the outline of the room now. Bright sun. Blinds in front of the windows. Stiff bed sheets. A firm mattress.
My arms were heavy and both were bandaged. There seemed to be wires running all over me. The machine next to me hummed and beeped. There was something wrapped tightly around my head. And tubes in my fucking nostrils. My temples throbbed gently.
‘What’s that round my neck? I can’t see. It’s cool and a bit scratchy. Can I move my arm to feel? These wires are in the way. Ouch that hurts. What is it?
‘It’s a necklace. But I don’t have a necklace. Why am I wearing a necklace? Jake doesn’t wear a necklace. Am I Jake?
‘What’s that? Is that a pendant? There’s a gemstone. I can’t see it. Can I lift it? Yes, it’s an, it’s an aquamarine!’
–
‘Noises. Sounds. Voices. Two people are talking. What are they saying?
‘Someone’s asking if I’ve woken up yet. Apparently not, but hopefully soon. I’ll be woozy when I come round. Too fucking right I’ll be woozy.
‘Someone’s asking if they can sit with me for a bit. It’s a female voice. A familiar voice.
‘It’s quiet again.’
The voices had stopped.
‘Am I on my own? No, there’s someone else in the room with me. Who is it? Can I talk to them?’
“Uuurrrrggggghhhh,” I croaked.
‘No my throat is too dry. Fuck, maybe there isn’t any one here.’
“Jake, Jake?” the voice said. “Are you awake? It’s me, Amy!”
I tried to vocalise a response, but none came. There was a pause and then I felt a hand take mine and stroke it gently.
“Oh Jake. I love you so much. It’s so terrible to see you like this. I need you, you’re my rock. I’m not complete without you,” she said, her voice choked with emotion now. “Please wake up,” she cried.
I managed to force my eyes open. Amy was sitting on the side of my bed holding my hand. She was crying, shaking, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Ayyyyymmmmrrrrrrhhhhhh!” I managed to murmur. My mouth was dry.
“Jake, Jake, you’re awake!” she cried. “You’re awake.”
“Water,” I croaked, “water!”
“I’ll get the nurse,” she said. “I need to tell them you’ve woken up!” She darted out, returning moments later, followed by someone in a blue uniform.
Together they helped me into a sitting position and I was able to take a few sips of water.
Amy sat back on the bed, beaming at me, stroking my hand.
“I love you,” I said simply.
“I love you too,” she replied. “I really do.”
“I need to get up,” I said anxiously. “I have to milk the cows.”
Amy looked startled. “It’s OK,” she said. “The cows are fine, your dad’s milked them.”
“It’s alright,” the nurse said leaning across to her. “He’ll be a bit confused for a few days. It’s normal. The most important thing is he recognises you dear.”
“I am in the room, you know,” I protested. “There are animals that depend on me, I just need to make sure they’re OK.”
“Jake,” the nurse said firmly. “All the animals and people that you love and care about are just fine, I promise. But the best thing you can do for them is to focus on getting better.”
I was quiet for a bit, hoping the nurse would leave, but she didn’t. I’d taken an instant dislike to her bossy attitude.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Can I tell him?” Amy asked the nurse. “I don’t want to upset him.”
The nurse nodded.
“Jake, do you remember last night, the Prom?” Amy asked.
“Yes,” I said simply.
“When the Prom finished, we went outside to wait for Rob to pick us up with his car and while we were waiting, someone attacked you. They stabbed you in the arm and then smashed a bottle over your head.” Amy explained.
A doctor came in. “Ah Jake,” he said. “I’m Dr Marshall. It’s good to see you awake.”
“Am I going to be OK?” I asked.
My Mum burst into the room. “Jake, Jake,” she called. “You’re awake!” She came over to the bed and kissed my forehead and then embraced Amy. “I’m so happy that you’re here too!”
The doctor filled me in on the medical details. The wound to my arm had been pretty deep and I’d lost a fair bit of blood, but I would have lost more if someone hadn’t tied a tourniquet before the ambulance arrived. They’d had to remove some shards of glass from my scalp, but for the moment, the scans suggested there wasn’t any brain damage.
I was concussed and I was going to feel very tired for the next few weeks and it was likely that I’d have some very bad headaches. Ordinarily they’d expect to discharge me almost immediately, but the deep wound to my arm apparently complicated matters and they wanted to keep me in for observation.
The bad news was that I wasn’t going to be allowed to drive for at least six weeks and I’d be signed off work for three. I’d have to be on light duties at the Campsite until my arm was healed.
Once the doctor was gone, I was able to piece together a few more details.
Amy had ridden in the ambulance with me. She’d called Mum from my mobile phone, who’d come straight to the hospital with Dad.
“Wow,” I said. “Sounds like I missed an exciting night. Shame I can’t remember it!”
“But you remember the Prom?” asked Amy, sounding a little disappointed.
“Yes,” I replied. “It was amazing and you looked so beautiful! It was a really wonderful evening.”
I was starting to get tired and Amy reluctantly said goodbye to go home, but Mum stayed for a little longer.
“I’m meant to be at the Campsite at six tomorrow morning,” I told her anxiously.
“It’s OK,” she replied. “I’ve phoned your boss, they know you won’t be there. Lauren’s going to stand in for you for a couple of weeks. She’s up there now to talk to them. She’ll be fine.”
“Thanks,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, I’ve caused so much trouble.”
Mum smiled at me, “Jake, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m just so happy that you’re OK. That’s all that matters.”
“Is Amy OK?” I asked. “She must be pretty shaken.”
“She’s been very calm,” Mum said. “From the moment she called me last night, she’s dealt with everything really well. You should be really proud of her. She’s been really brave. And your friend, the one who tied his shirt around your arm – they both looked after you until the ambulance got to you.”
“My friend?” I asked. I couldn’t remember being with anyone else other than Amy.
“Yes,” Mum replied, “you know the boy with blond hair.”
“Oh Stijn,” I said.
“No, not him,” she said. “the blond boy in the play – he was Mercutio – I can’t remember his name.”
“Billy?” I exclaimed. Ritchie’s stooge – I’d never consider him a friend in a million years.
“Yes, him,” continued Mum, not noticing my astonishment.
“And when you left in the ambulance, he helped the police find Ritchie apparently. That’s how they arrested him so quickly – they got straight to him.”
I paused. I’d never expected Billy to do that – bandaging me up was one thing, but leading the police to Ritchie was quite another. I’d badly misjudged him.
–
The doctor was the first visitor to my bedside the following morning. He’d given me the sanitised version the previous afternoon and although he was positive and upbeat, it was clear that there were good reasons for keeping me in hospital for an extra couple of days.
My concussion was severe, there was no escaping that and the next week or so would be very unpleasant. I’d hit my head hard on a kerb in the hotel car park and it was this injury that concerned them most. All the scans I’d had suggested that there wouldn’t be any permanent brain damage, but there was still a possibility of a bleed occurring. Should that happen, I’d need to go pretty much straight into theatre, so I’d need to alert the medical staff if I felt my condition worsening, especially if I noticed anything wrong with my vision.
There were a few cuts on the back of my head from the glass, but they were mostly surface scratches and would heal quickly. They’d shaved off some of my hair to make sure that they could properly disinfect and treat the wounds, but that would regrow soon enough.
As far as the head trauma was concerned, if everything turned out for the best, I’d be over the concussion in about two weeks, although it would be best to avoid any strenuous activity for another ten days after that. The doctor looked at me pointedly, “No sex in July, I’m afraid Jake,” he said.
My left arm would take longer to heal. The knife had been sharp and had gone in deep, but as I’d twisted to shove Ritchie away, the cut had lengthened and hadn’t come out cleanly. Although the blade had missed the main artery by millimetres, I’d still lost a lot of blood. The good news was that Billy’s tourniquet had prevented a bad injury becoming very serious, but it wouldn’t be fully healed until mid-August at the earliest.
‘Just in time for exam results day,’ I thought.
–
Detective Sergeant Roberts arrived at my bedside around an hour later. In her early thirties perhaps, she was warm and friendly, yet efficient and business-like at the same time. I took an instant liking to her. She asked how I was feeling and whether I would be able to answer some questions.
“I’ll try,” I said, “but I don’t think I can remember that much.”
“That’s OK,” she replied. “Just tell me as much as you can. If you’re not sure about anything, just say – we’d rather have an incomplete account than one that’s not accurate. And if something occurs to you or you need to correct something you’ve said, just let us know. You won’t be in trouble if you get things confused, but you need to let us know.”
I nodded and proceeded to describe the attack as far as I could. I was able to recall walking with Amy across the car park towards the main hotel building and Ritchie threatening the two of us with a knife. After that I remembered someone telling me that I was bleeding badly, but that was about it.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s mostly a blur. It all happened so quickly.”
“That’s OK,” the Sergeant replied. “Tell me about Ritchie. Did you know him well? Was he a friend?”
I attempted a laugh.
“He certainly wasn’t a friend,” I replied. “He used to bully me a lot. My parents are farmers, so he used to make animal noises whenever I walked past or hold his nose and pretend I smelt of manure.”
Sergeant Roberts nodded sympathetically. “And was he still doing that, or had he grown out of it?” she asked wryly.
“It had mostly stopped,” I said. “I’m a sciences student and he does humanities, so we’ve mostly been in different parts of the school for the past two years.”
“And you were both in the school play together?” she prompted.
I nodded.
“And did he bully you then?” she asked.
“Not really,” I said. “I wasn’t in that many scenes and if we were together, there’d usually be a teacher around too. I just did my best to ignore him.”
Sergeant Roberts paused as she wrote down what I’d said in her notebook.
“And Amy,” she asked, “your girlfriend. You’ve been together since Easter, since the play ended?”
I nodded.
“Do you know if Ritchie was angry that you’d started going out with her?” she asked.
“We thought he might be,” I admitted. “That’s partly why we kept it a secret for so long. Not many people knew we were together until the Prom. That was when Ritchie found out.”
“So Ritchie wanted to go out with Amy as well?” she asked.
“I think so,” I said. “We were at a party before Easter and he tried to feel her up, but I stopped him.”
“OK,” Sergeant Roberts said. She paused. “And was there a fight?”
“It wasn’t really a fight,” I said. “She was trying to get away from him, and he was following after her, so I stopped him. He tried to hit me, but I pushed him away. No one really got hurt.”
“I see,” she said, writing the details down in her notebook. “And did you tell anyone about it, like a teacher back at school or anything.”
“Amy’s mum told our headteacher about it,” I said. “There were arrangements for Amy to sit her exams in a different room to Ritchie.”
The police officer nodded. She knew this already.
“And at the Prom,” she said. “Did you talk to Ritchie during the evening, before he attacked you?”
I looked down. I’d been hoping not to have to reveal this, but it was inevitable that it would come out, sooner or later. There wouldn’t have been CCTV in the bathroom, but there might be a camera in the corridor outside. They’d know that Ritchie and I had been in there together.
“We did have an altercation,” I said. “In the bathroom, in the middle of dinner. I didn’t realise Ritchie was in there. I was washing my hands at the basin and he came out of one of the cubicles.”
“Do you remember what he said, or what you said?” asked Sergeant Roberts.
I shook my head. “Not really, it was the same stuff as before with the animal grunts and smelling of manure.”
“And did he mention Amy?” she asked.
I nodded. “He said she was frigid,” I replied unhappily.
“And did you fight?” she asked.
“He tried to hit me,” I said. “But I stuck my leg out and tripped him up. He fell on the floor and I walked away.”
“And did you tell anyone?” she asked.
“I told Lauren – she’s my cousin,” I said. “But that was only to ask her to keep an eye out for Amy.”
The police officer nodded. “Is there anything else you think I should know?” she asked.
I shook my head.
Sergeant Roberts started to put her notebook away.
“Was Ritchie hurt?” I asked. I was beginning to recall him lying on the tarmac of the car park.
The officer looked up. “Have you remembered something else?”
“Did I push him over onto the ground – when he had the knife?” I asked.
She nodded. “He cut your arm as he fell – that’s all on the CCTV.”
“And was he hurt on the ground?” I said. “Why didn’t he get up and try again?”
“Well I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” she said. “You kicked the knife away. That’s why he came back with a bottle – he couldn’t find the knife.”
“And was he hurt?” I asked.
Sergeant Roberts nodded. “You fractured his wrist. He might take as long to recover as you.”
I gulped, this was serious.
“Am I going to be arrested for injuring him?” I asked nervously.
Sergeant Roberts laughed. “Not a chance,” she replied. “It’s the clearest case of self-defence I’ve ever seen. You successfully kicked the knife out of his hand that he’d already used to stab you.”
I smiled a little smugly. I’d scored a decent hit on the fucker, but with the full blessing of the law.
“It does complicate matters, though,” she added seriously, “as does your altercation in the bathroom. We’ll need to interview you again, that’s for certain, but we’ll do that later. But your friend Billy, he’s helped a lot, we’ve got a full statement from him. He led us straight to Ritchie.”
I looked at her quizzically. Why did she think Billy was my friend?
–
Amy’s mum was my final visitor that morning. I was tempted to pretend to be asleep, but the opportunity had passed once she’d sat down at my bedside.
Jenny wasn’t exactly shaken, but there was a slight nervousness about her, which I hadn’t seen in her before. She apologised profusely for her husband being late to pick us up from the Prom. It was clear that she blamed him for what had happened. She also thanked me for protecting Amy, which puzzled me slightly as Ritchie’s attack had been directed at me and not my girlfriend.
“How is Amy?” I asked. “I mean, how is she really, deep down?”
“She’s been very brave and very calm,” Jenny replied. “But she’s been worried about you. She cried herself to sleep last night, but I think that was the low point. I’ve taken her down to work today – that’ll help her to take her mind off things.”
I nodded. “Jackie’s nice,” I said, referring to Amy’s boss, “she’ll look after her, she’s very fond of Amy.”
“She’s very fond of you too,” replied Jenny, “in fact your whole village is. I popped into the little shop after I’d dropped Amy off this morning, and there were a pair of old ladies talking about you. Apparently you’re an expert in getting cats down from trees!”
I laughed gently. I knew precisely which pair of old ladies Jenny had overheard, and their cats were serial offenders (although not particularly inventive with their choice of trees).
“So what happens now? With Ritchie I mean,” I asked.
Jenny was a criminal lawyer, so she knew what the procedure would be.
“Well,” she replied. “The case won’t come to our firm – for obvious reasons, but I do know the police officer who’s in charge of the investigation – she’ll do a good job.”
I nodded, reassured, waiting for Jenny to continue.
“Ritchie was arrested early on Sunday morning, about an hour or so after he attacked you. I think one of your friends helped the police find him – he hadn’t gone back home. But he’d injured his hand, so they ended up bringing him here, to the hospital. Amy and I bumped into him as we were leaving – he was cuffed to a police officer. It gave her a bit of a shock to see him again.”
I nodded. I knew that it was me who’d injured Ritchie’s wrist, but there was no need to tell Jenny.
“They’d have done a standard blood test for alcohol and drugs,” she continued, “but we probably won’t know the results until the trial. He’s eighteen, so the police would have treated him as an adult, so once they’d bandaged him here, it would have been a night in the cells, then a formal interview in the morning.”
“And has he been bailed?” I asked.
“Well they would have charged him first,” Jenny replied. “And I’m sure the police would have waited until they had the CCTV evidence from the hotel and had talked to the witnesses.”
“Witnesses?” I asked.
“Yes, they talked to Amy on Sunday and the boy who was with you,” she replied. “But I think the CCTV footage would have been pretty clear – I’ve dealt with a vandalism case from that carpark, you’d have been in full view of at least four cameras at the time.”
I nodded thoughtfully.
“Oh and they found the knife, so that would have gone to forensics,” Jenny added.
“And Ritchie’s back home on bail now?” I asked again.
“Yes,” she replied. “He’ll probably have had to surrender his passport. And they’ll have imposed some conditions – he’ll need to stay away from the two of you, both when you’re at home and at work.”
“So what happens now?” I asked.
“We have to wait for the police to put together the case, but I don’t think that should be too difficult. Then there’ll be an initial hearing at a Magistrates Court, but they’ll pass the case on the Crown Court – Ritchie will have been charged with Grievous Bodily Harm.”
I swallowed. “So that’s a prison sentence?”
Jenny nodded. “Yes, potentially up to five years, but I think three is more likely given your injuries. If he’s sensible, he’ll plead guilty, so that’ll reduce his time inside.”
My heart sank. Was I starting to feel a little sorry for Ritchie?
Jenny looked at her watch.
“Look Jake,” she said, “I need to go, but it’s been really good to see you.”
“Thank you,” I said. “It’s been good to understand what might happen next.”
Jenny looked me straight in the eyes. “Amy loves you Jake,” she said. “I didn’t realise how strong your relationship was, but the last two days have really shown me what you mean to her.”
I looked back at her. “I love her too,” I said simply.
“Jake,” she continued. “I know you’ve been the one who’s been physically injured, but there’ll be psychological effects too – not just for you, but for her as well. It’s something our legal system doesn’t do very well – it’s good at sorting out broken bones and spilt blood, but it can’t really handle the mental trauma.
“As you’re the victim, you’ll be offered some counselling, which I suggest you take, but Amy’s only a witness and that doesn’t automatically entitle her to any support – but I’ll arrange that for her separately. What I’m trying to say is this – don’t be afraid to talk to the people you need to talk to. Don’t get all alpha male and try to supress your feelings – you’ll just store up trouble for the long term. Please be honest with yourself and with other people, especially Amy.”
I nodded. “I understand,” I said.
–
I felt better being back at the farmhouse. Mum normally worked from home on Wednesdays, but as she’d spent a fair bit of time with me at the hospital on Monday and Tuesday, she decided to go into work for a few hours in the middle of the day. She wanted to give me and Amy some time to ourselves, especially as I hadn’t seen my girlfriend since the Sunday afternoon. Mum had been really good with Amy and had recognised that the two of us needed time together on our own at the hospital. There was a strong bond developing between the two of them, and I knew that Mum had always been a little sad that she’d never had a daughter.
Amy was due for lunch; she’d be coming over from the Stables. I’d been on my own for maybe an hour and was thoroughly bored. I sat at the kitchen table, watching the birds outside in the garden, my mind flitting between idle thoughts. There was a clatter then a dull thud as something was pushed through the letterbox. I jumped. I cautiously made my way out to the hallway; the local newspaper was lying on the mat. I breathed a sigh of relief – why was I so skittish?
I bent down. Ooh, that wasn’t good – sudden movements of my head made me dizzy. I gingerly picked up the paper and unfolded it to reveal the front page. My stomach turned over as I saw my own face staring back at me.
‘SCHOOLBOY KNIFED IN PROM ATTACK’ the headline read.
I took the paper back to the kitchen table and began to read.
‘LOCAL TEENAGER Jacob Hardwick was stabbed in the car park of the Heritage Hotel after a school Prom, late on Saturday night. Emergency services were called after the 18-year-old was attacked by a fellow pupil in an apparently unprovoked attack.
‘The schoolboy, who will begin a degree in veterinary medicine at Cambridge University in October, was waiting for a lift home with a female school student, understood to be his girlfriend of three months. Hardwick received the stab wound after he blocked the assailant from reaching the schoolgirl (also 18), before wrestling the attacker to the ground and disarming him.
‘Shortly afterwards, as Hardwick and his girlfriend were making their way to the hotel reception to call for help, the assailant attacked the schoolboy from behind with a glass bottle, before fleeing the scene.
‘Police have arrested a suspect, also a student at school, and have launched an appeal for witnesses to come forward. They are also understood to be examining CCTV evidence from the hotel where the Prom took place.’
I skimmed the rest of the article, there was a quote from an unnamed teacher saying that the whole school was in shock and how I was the star pupil and how I’d been the first person in three years to get into either Oxford or Cambridge and blah, blah, blah.
There was also a quote from an anonymous fellow pupil, who had pretended that I was the most popular boy in the school with no known enemies.
I felt a little angry, my privacy violated. It had never occurred to me that the local press would be interested in the attack, far less want to splash it across the front page. But the worst thing was that I, the victim, had been named along with my future university and undergraduate course. Ritchie, my attacker, was given full anonymity – it hadn’t even given his age. I clenched my fist in frustration – where the fuck had they got my photo from? At least Amy hadn’t been named, I thought.
Shit! Amy was due any minute. She was walking over from the Stables to have lunch with me – it would be the first time we’d been on our own together since the Prom. The last thing she needed to see was this.
I folded the newspaper to hide the front page, then hid it under a stack of magazines.
The doorbell rang; it was Amy.
“Come in,” I said, smiling at her. “It’s really good to see you.”
I shut the door behind her and she flung her arms around me.
“Careful,” I said, indicating the sling holding my left arm. I kissed the top of her head.
“I love you so much Amy,” I said, “I really do.”
“Really?” she said, looking a little apprehensively at me.
“Yes,” I replied, “really and truly! I’ve missed you so much, I really have.”
“I love you too, Jake,” she replied. She buried her head in my chest and began to cry.
“Amy,” I said, “why are you crying? Please don’t cry, I’m OK.”
“But I’ve been so worried about you,” she wailed. “It’s such a relief to see you up and about again.”
“Oh come on! I’ve got a scratch on my arm and a bump on my head, that’s all,” I replied. “I’ll be back at work in a couple of weeks.”
Amy looked up at me and smiled weakly. “I wish you’d stop being so macho!” she teased. She fished in the bag she was carrying and pulled out an envelope. “I’ve brought a card from Jackie and her family,” she said, handing it to me.
We began to walk down the hallway to the kitchen.
“Seriously Jake, how are you feeling?” she asked as I sat down.
“I’m OK,” I said honestly. “I’m feeling pretty tired, but as long as I move slowly, I’m OK – the headaches aren’t too bad. Bending down is difficult, but other than that I’m alright. I’ll probably have a sleep when you’ve gone.”
“And your arm?” she asked.
“It’s OK,” I said. “The painkillers are helping, I just have to make sure that I don’t twist it suddenly.”
Mum had left some soup and bread rolls for the two of us to eat. It wasn’t the most exciting of meals, but it was quick to prepare and easy for me to eat one handed. Amy insisted that she do all the work, so I sat at the table as she got things ready. We chatted about her day at the Stables. I quietly savoured the opportunity to watch her in her tight jodhpurs.
We ate slowly. I didn’t have much of an appetite, and it seemed to shock Amy, how little I’d eaten. I was beginning to feel tired again, but forced myself on.
“What time do you have to be back?” I asked.
She looked down a little embarrassed. “Jackie said I could take as much time as I wanted,” she replied. “I suppose I could stay for another half hour, but I don’t want to take advantage.”
“Could we go upstairs and cuddle?” I asked her. “Not to do anything, I just want to lie with you in my arms for a bit and to feel close to you. Would that be OK?”
Amy’s face lit up. “Oh Jake, I’d really like that, but are you sure your mum won’t be back soon?”
I shook my head. “No she won’t be back until three at the earliest. She wouldn’t mind anyway.”
She smiled at me, “OK,” she replied. I took her hand and gently led her up the stairs. Stairs were difficult, they required a lot of concentration.
“I’ve never been in your bedroom,” she said as we entered.
I thought for a second, surely she must have been up here before? No, she was right, I don’t think she had.
“It’s just as I imagined. It’s very you,” she said.
I looked at her confused.
“It’s minimalist,” she said, “it’s very functional. Your world and everything you love is out there,” she pointed through the window to the farm and countryside beyond. “This is the place where you sleep and work, but that’s it – a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers.”
“There is one thing you’ve missed,” I said, walking over to the bookshelf and picking up a picture frame. It was hidden from the doorway by a couple of dictionaries, but in full view of the bed. I handed the photograph to her.
“It’s us!” she exclaimed. “In Trafalgar Square, when we went to London. That selfie I forced you into – see you do like photos!”
I nodded. “So I can say hello to you first thing in the morning and goodnight when I go to bed.” I gave a goofy smile, feeling my cheeks glow in embarrassment.
Amy stood on tiptoe to kiss me. “I love this,” she said, smiling broadly.
We snuggled together on the bed for twenty minutes or so, as Amy reminisced about our trip to London together and planned our next outing. I lay beside her quietly, without the energy to talk.
Then we kissed and told each other that we loved each other. I felt a sense of security for the first time in days.
“Jake,” Amy said, “I should probably get back to the Stables.”
We got up and headed slowly down the stairs. I looked at my watch – it was half past two; Amy had been with me for almost an hour and a half. We went into the kitchen so she could pick up her coat and her bag.
Suddenly there was a knock on the back door. My heart sank, that could only be one person.
“It’s Lauren,” I said. “She’ll be back from the Campsite.”
I crossed the tiled floor of the kitchen and opened the door. My cousin tumbled through, brandishing something in her hand.
“You’ve got to see this,” she cried in excitement, “this is the funniest thing ever!”
“Oh!” she said seeing Amy, “sorry I didn’t realise you were here.”
“That’s OK,” Amy replied, not looking overly delighted to see my cousin bursting in, “I was about to go back to the Stables.”
“Look, you’ve got to see this,” Lauren said.
In the fog of my concussion, I realised she was holding the local newspaper, but before I could stop her, she’d flipped it open and had begun to read the headline.
I looked across at Amy. The colour was draining from her face.
“The schoolboy, who will begin a degree in veterinary medicine at Cambridge University in October, was waiting for a lift home with a female school student, understood to be his girlfriend of three months,” Lauren was reading.
Amy was beginning to cry.
“Hardwick received the stab wound after he blocked the assailant from reaching the schoolgirl (also 18), before wrestling the attacker to the ground and disarming him,” Lauren continued.
“Lauren stop!” I ordered angrily. “You’re upsetting Amy and you’re upsetting me.”
“But it says how great you are,” she protested, “how you beat him off.”
“Lauren just fuck off and leave us alone,” I snapped, putting my good arm around Amy. “Why do you have to interfere in everything? Get out!”
My cousin turned white, grabbed the newspaper and ran, slamming the back door behind her.
Amy wept into my chest. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, “this is all my fault. It’s all my fault.”
I lifted her chin and looked into her eyes.
“Amy, it’s not your fault,” I said calmly. “Ritchie is ill, very, very ill, that’s why he hurt me – it’s got nothing to do with you.”
“But it has,” she protested. “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry, so sorry.”
I kissed the top of her head.
“I need to go Jake,” she said tearfully. “I’m so sorry.”
“Amy, please,” I said, trying in vain to catch her and prevent her from leaving.
“I have to go Jake,” she said. “I’ll come and see you tomorrow.”
She kissed me on the cheek, then turned and fled. I heard the sound of the front door slamming shut.
I roared with anger. This was all Lauren’s fault. That bitch needed to be taught a lesson.
–
Mum found me half an hour later, sobbing at the kitchen table. I’d worked myself up into such a rage that my head felt like it was about to explode with pain.
I’d gone over to Lauren’s house and had a flaming row with her. She’d treated the whole incident like it was a joke; Amy was still traumatised, it was no wonder she’d got upset. I’d called my cousin every name under the sun and told her that she wasn’t to come near the pair of us ever again. Then I’d staked back to the farmhouse, still shaking with fury.
“Jake, what’s wrong, what happened?” Mum asked.
I explained how Lauren had upset Amy with the newspaper article and how I’d gone round to have it out with her.
Mum put an arm supportively around my shoulders.
“It’s OK Jake,” she said. “Let’s get you up to bed for a sleep and we’ll talk about it later.”
I stood up and reached for my phone.
“No Jake,” she said. “That’s staying down here. You need to focus on you, not on anyone else.”
–
There was a knock on my bedroom door a few hours later. Mum entered and sat down on the end of my bed.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked, offering me a glass of water.
I nodded.
“Did you sleep?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so,” I replied.
There was a silence. Mum took my hand in hers.
“You’re going to hate me,” she said, “but I’ve been to talk to Lauren.”
I swallowed. I didn’t really want Mum to fight my battles for me.
“She didn’t think,” Mum went on. “She thought that showing Amy the newspaper was helping. She thought it would make you look like the hero. She’s very sorry and she didn’t want to upset either of you.”
I nodded again, acknowledging the apology.
“She’s confused and she doesn’t understand why Amy reacted the way she did,” Mum said softly.
“What did you say?” I asked cautiously.
“I said you were the one who was hospitalised but it was the two of you that got attacked. Amy saw everything, not just the scuffle, but you face down in the car park, unconscious, covered in blood.”
I nodded.
“Amy’s traumatised Jake. That’s not something for you to get judgemental about – she’s stayed so calm all the way through, but now you’re back home she’s relaxed the tiniest bit, let her guard down and all it’s taken is something small to knock the cork off the bottle and to release all those emotions.”
“Should I call her?” I asked anxiously, “Amy I mean.”
“Well you’re going to hate me even more,” Mum said, “but I phoned Jenny, her mum. She gave me her number when I met her at the hospital – she thought this might happen. I just said that Amy had lunch with you here and that she’d been a bit upset before she left. That’s all. It’s up to her if she wants to tell her mum more.”
“Thanks,” I said, a little relieved that Amy’s mum was aware. There was a silence for a few seconds.
“Anyway, I wanted to know what you wanted to eat for supper,” Mum asked. “There’s some more of the soup you had at lunchtime, but I’ve got some chicken if you prefer.”
“Oh I’d prefer the chicken please,” I replied.
“And you’ll come down and eat with Dad and me?”
I nodded.
Mum patted my leg then stood. She looked back at me.
“Don’t judge Amy on how she reacted today Jake,” she warned. “She loves you. Maybe that’s the problem, she didn’t realise how much she loved you and that’s scared her a bit.”
Mum paused.
“She needs time to heal too,” she said.
–
Throughout my childhood, I’d never been a good patient when ill – I couldn’t stand being shut indoors all day. Aged eight and stuck at home with chickenpox, I’d learnt how to climb out of my bedroom window. Had there not been a thunderstorm one day that had panicked the hens, my exploits would have escaped detection, but my Dad had caught me in the pouring rain attempting a temporary fix to the wire mesh around the coop. A lock had swiftly been added to my window as a result.
Now as a teenager, I was even more hostile to being fussed over and held hostage by my injuries. Watching television or messing on the computer rapidly brought on severe headaches and, at first, even reading a book for more than five minutes was impossible.
I’d patched up my relationship with Lauren pretty quickly. We’d fallen out regularly as children, but animosity had rarely lasted long. She realised she’d crossed a line, albeit inadvertently, and was contrite and apologetic. We both wept as we hugged each other and my cousin promised unconditionally to support me through everything.
In contrast, things with Amy were strained. It was clear she was finding things tough going. Things were pretty unhappy at home, and apparently Rob, her step-dad, was still in big trouble with her mum for not picking us up from the Prom on time. She’d been called in for another interview with the police, which had left her pretty shaken, but to my frustration she refused to discuss it with me. Like me, she was having some counselling, but I didn’t know any of the details.
Amy rarely laughed or smiled when we were together. She didn’t cry, but increasingly she seemed a shadow of her former self. Before the attack, I’d thought I knew could read her well, but now I was struggling and clueless as to how best to support her. Although I was recovering steadily, my injuries still made me tetchy and short-tempered, and it was an effort to prevent myself from lashing out at her, as I had at Lauren.
The one bright point in Amy’s life seemed to be her job at the Stables. She was certainly getting lots of free riding time. She liked Jackie, the owner, and the rest of the small team that worked there. Jackie had a son, Tim, who was a year older than me and was now back from his first year at university, also working there a few days a week. I liked Tim, although I didn’t know him that well. Amy also liked him and talked about him a fair bit, enough to make me a little worried.
–
It was the second Friday after the Prom, when things really went awry. I’d woken up with a thumping headache, which hadn’t been improved by a phonecall from the police around mid-morning, calling me in for an interview the following Monday. That had almost sent Amy over the edge, when I told her, and we’d very nearly fallen out over some trivial issue to do with the choice of plates we were using for lunch.
That evening, Mum, Dad and I were at the kitchen table in the middle of supper when Mum’s phone rang. I couldn’t see the screen from where I was sitting, but she excused herself and took the call into the sitting room. Dad and I looked at each other, concerned that something might have happened to my grandparents.
Mum returned a few minutes later.
“That was Jenny, Amy’s mum,” she said.
I looked up anxiously.
“Amy’s had a really tough week,” Mum continued. “It’s not your fault at all Jake, you’ve been wonderful and supportive of her. But it’s all got a bit too much.
“Jenny has persuaded her to spend a week with her grandparents in Hampshire, just to get away from everything here.”
“But what about the Stables?” I protested.
“So they spoke to Jackie this afternoon,” Mum continued. “Tim’s going to stay around next week to help out.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Amy’s going to ring you later, but Jenny though it would be wise for you to know beforehand. Amy doesn’t know she’s called me.”
“Oh,” I said, fearing the worst. “Does that mean it’s over between us, Amy and me?”
“I don’t think so Jake,” said Mum, looking a little sad. “But I’m sorry – I don’t know, I really don’t know.”
There was a silence, as the enormity of Amy’s decision sank in.
“Jake,” said Mum gently. “When she does phone, please be supportive of whatever she decides to do. You can scream, shout and yell at Dad and me – even Lauren, but don’t take anything out on Amy.”
“OK,” I said, trying my best to smile.
–
It wasn’t until around nine o’clock that my phone rang.
“Hello Amy,” I said meekly as I answered.
“Hello Jake,” she replied – she sounded a little tired.
“How are you?”
“I’m OK,” she replied. “I’ve got something to tell you.”
I paused. “OK,” I said.
“I’ve been finding things really tough since the Prom,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” I said.
“Please Jake,” she said, “let me say this.”
I murmured in agreement.
“I’m going to go away for a few days, maybe a week to stay with my grandparents,” she said quietly. “I’m really sorry, I feel like I’m running away from you when I should be supporting you, but I need to clear my head. I can’t do it here at home.”
There was a pause.
“I really love you Jake, I really do. I feel like a real bitch, running away like this, but I have to go, I need to get away.” She was beginning to cry now.
“I love you Amy,” I said, a lump in my throat too. “Take as much time as you need. I’ll be here for you when you come back. You know I’ll support you whatever you do. And if you want to talk when you’re away, just pick up the phone.”
“I don’t deserve you Jake,” she said. “I really don’t. I’m so useless; it’s all my fault.”
“Nothing’s your fault,” I replied. “And you’re not useless, and I really love you too.”
We said goodbye to each other, then I sank back on my bed in floods of tears.
–
I think that was the lowest point for me, that phonecall. I moped around the next morning, convinced that Amy was going to split up with me and that the world was going to end. Fortunately, Lauren returned from the Campsite that afternoon and dragged me out to the river. She and Danny rowed me round the millpond a couple of times, doing their best to distract me.
The police interview on the Monday turned out to be a formality, nothing more. They’d written up the evidence that I’d given to Sergeant Roberts in the hospital, which they asked me to check through and sign.
Then they showed me the CCTV footage of the attack and asked me to talk through what was happening. I was surprised how little time the whole incident had taken. From Ritchie’s initial appearance in the car park to me kicking the knife out of his hand was well under a minute. He’d disappeared off screen for maybe twenty seconds, while Billy had taken off his shirt and tied it round my arm. Then Ritchie had reappeared with the champagne bottle and smashed it over my head. I watched myself falling helplessly forwards onto the ground and winced as I saw my head hitting the kerbstone. Amy had pulled out her phone immediately to call the ambulance and Billy had tried his best to stem the blood. I wasn’t sure if Amy had seen the same footage, but I understood why she’d been upset by her police interview if she had.
–
I was at home a few days later, when I heard a knock at the door. It was Frankie. (She’d played the Nurse in the school play and had become a good friend of Amy’s.)
“Oh hello Jake,” she said. “I was just passing, I thought I’d stop and say hi.”
“Come in,” I said smiling. “I was about to make a cup of tea, you want one?”
We sat at the kitchen table clutching our mugs.
“How are you, Jake?” Frankie asked.
“I’m feeling a lot better,” I said. “I was with the police on Monday for the final time – that’s taken a big weight off my shoulders. And I’m over the concussion now. I should be back at the Campsite next week.”
“And how is Amy?” she asked.
“She’s finding it really tough,” I admitted. “She’s gone to visit her grandparents for a week. She’s still a bit traumatised by the whole thing.”
Frankie nodded sympathetically.
“She keeps saying it’s all her fault – she blames herself for Ritchie attacking me,” I said, half-hoping I might persuade Frankie to talk to Amy.
“Her fault?” Frankie echoed.
I nodded. “She thinks she might have given Ritchie signals that he might have misinterpreted,” I added. “But it’s not true, I know it’s not true.”
“Actually Jake,” Frankie said nervously. “It is true.”
I shiver of panic ran through me – surely not. I looked at her wide eyed, fearing what I was about to hear.
Frankie took a deep breath.
“You and Amy got together after James’ party before Easter, right?” she said.
I nodded, my throat too dry to speak. I hadn’t thought that Frankie knew that.
“And you took her home after Ritchie tried to push her too far?”
I nodded again.
“Do you know what happened before that?” she asked.
“Er, not really,” I said. “I know he tried to feel her up, so she ran away from him and that’s when I stopped him.”
Frankie looked me directly in the eyes.
“How do you think Amy was going to get home – if you hadn’t taken her, I mean?” she asked.
I paused. I’d never thought of that. In my self-centred view I’d assumed at the time that Amy was waiting for me, but she’d had no idea I was coming back. It was very strange. Her over-protective mother would not have allowed her to go to a party without knowing how she was getting home, especially if the family were away that night.
“Er, I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe call for a taxi?”
Frankie shook her head. “No, Jake,” she responded. “Amy was meant to go home with me. We were going to leave together at nine thirty. I passed you coming back to James’ house as I drove up the street. I waved to you, but you didn’t see me.”
“So you left without Amy?” I asked, beginning to get angry.
Frankie nodded. “I told her I was getting ready to go, but she said she wanted to stay for longer.”
“Oh,” I said, confused. Why had Amy turned down the lift from Frankie? It didn’t make sense.
“Look Jake, there’s no easy way to tell you this,” she said. “When I left, Ritchie and Amy were kissing.”
I felt the blood drain from my face and my heart pounded in my chest. Surely this wasn’t true?
“But he went too far and too fast,” she said. “One minute is was a gentle French kiss, the next he had two hands up her jumper and was trying to rip her bra off. Then when she pushed him away, he tried to get to her crotch. That’s when she ran.”
I was silent – in shock. When Amy had told me that night that I was a good kisser, she’d been comparing me with Ritchie, less than half an hour before.
I sat there, opposite Frankie, devastated. I wanted to deny it and to accuse her of making the whole thing up, but it all fitted. What would she have to gain by lying?
“And after that?” I asked, “I mean when we were together. Did she see Ritchie? Did she do anything with him? Her mum was trying to keep them apart as much as possible. That’s why she took her exams in a different room.”
Frankie looked at me sharply.
“Once she was with you, she was one hundred percent loyal,” she said. “One hundred percent – she never cheated on you.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a little. It wasn’t nice to hear that Amy had kissed Ritchie immediately before we’d got together, but that wasn’t cheating.
“But she did see Ritchie,” Frankie continued. “Her mum didn’t know. You didn’t know.”
I looked at her, alarmed once more.
“Our English class, we met a couple of times a week during Study Leave, to go through the set texts together. Sometimes in the afternoons, but mostly in the evenings,” she explained.
I nodded, that hardly seemed the crime of the century, but I was disappointed she hadn’t told me. “And Amy and Ritchie were always there – both of them?”
Frankie nodded. “Yes, most of the time we met at my house, but there was one evening I couldn’t make it, so they met at Billy’s.”
“Oh,” I said.
“And Ritchie ended up driving Amy home – she’d always walked, but Ritchie insisted, and Billy helped pressure her into agreeing apparently.”
I nodded.
“And what happened in the car, when Ritchie took her home?”
Frankie took a deep breath.
“So apparently he apologised to her and said how badly he’d behaved towards her and that he wanted a chance to try again,” Frankie said.
“Amy was scared. She didn’t want to say that she was with you, so she thanked him for his apology and said that she didn’t want to do anything until after the exams were over,” she continued. “She thought that would convince Ritchie not to try again, but he thought she was still keen and wanted him to wait.”
I sank my head into my hands.
“So when the exams were over, he called her. He wanted to invite her to the Prom, to move her to his table, away from losers like you and Danny!”
I nodded. I remembered Ritchie trying to phone Amy when we were on the train back from Dorset.
“That’s when she told him that she had a boyfriend,” Frankie explained. “But she didn’t say it was you – Ritchie didn’t find out until the Prom.”
There was a long silence. A lot of things that hadn’t necessarily made sense before, were now becoming clearer.
“And when did you know?” I asked. “About me and Amy, I mean. When did she tell you we were together?”
Frankie hesitated. “It was a couple of days after James’ party,” she said. “We went for a meal together – I wanted to ask her how things went with Ritchie. We were going to go for a pizza, but we saw you and Danny in the restaurant, so we went somewhere else. That’s when she told me about the two of you. I’ve known all along.”
I paused. That was the evening that I’d tried to console Danny about Becky. Frankie had known almost a week before Lauren found out.
“Does Amy know you’re telling me this?” I asked.
Frankie shook her head. “No. I’ve talked to her a bit since the Prom, but she doesn’t know I’m here,” she said.
“Er, why are you telling me this then?” I asked, not really sure where Frankie’s loyalties lay or what agenda she was serving.
Frankie fished in her pocket and brought out her phone. I waited patiently as she flicked through the menus. She turned the screen to face me.
I recognised the photo immediately. It was the one of me and Amy performing together at the Easter concert – the one that Lauren had used for her collages for the Prom.
“You took this?” I asked.
Frankie nodded. “I took hundreds that night, mostly of Ross,” she said sheepishly. “But I forgot about this one. I found it a month ago, when I was looking for something else. But that doesn’t matter. Look at Amy’s face Jake. She loves you, she’s always loved you.”
I nodded, it was impossible to misread Amy’s expression.
“I have two friends,” she continued. “Both of them love each other very much. They’re right for each other, but one of them has told a few white lies and kept a few secrets so as not to upset the other. But something’s happened, you’ve got hurt, badly, and now she’s tearing herself up inside. She’s worried how you’re going to react when you find out.”
There was a pause. I still wasn’t understanding.
“Jake, what do you think the rumours are saying?” she asked.
“Rumours?”
“Oh come on Jake! The attack has been the talk of the town for the last two weeks. It’s been on the front page of the past two editions of the local newspaper and probably will be on there this week too. Of course there’s been gossip.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Ritchie’s tried to claim that Amy cheated on him with you and then dumped him before the Prom,” she explained.
“He’s what?!” I exclaimed.
“Oh, it gets worse Jake,” she continued. “Apparently you attacked him, broke his wrist and he only stabbed you in self-defence.”
My mouth hung open; how on earth could he claim that?
“Does anyone believe that?”
“A few,” she said. “But you haven’t been arrested and he has. He’s running out of friends now.”
“He’s got more friends than me,” I observed wryly.
“No Jake, he doesn’t,” she replied. “Us girls always had to keep an eye out for Ritchie and his wandering hands. You’d never want to be on your own with him, or he’d end up groping you. All the girls have been complaining about him for years at school, but nothing was ever done. The police are raking through all that now – a lot of old allegations have surfaced. The only one he wouldn’t touch was Lauren – he was just too scared of her.”
“I’m sorry Frankie,” I said, “I had no idea.”
“Nor did Amy,” she said, a little ashamed. “It was obvious he was going to be Romeo in the play, so none of us wanted to be Juliet. She was the only one who auditioned for the role. Then she seemed to be taking a shine to Ritchie, we kinda encouraged her. We thought if she hooked up with him, he might leave us alone.”
Frankie looked down.
“I’m sorry Jake,” she said sheepishly, “she was our sacrificial lamb.”
–
About an hour later, I was sitting on the bank above the millpond, thinking.
There was a lot that I’d learnt from Frankie’s visit, but I wasn’t naïve enough to take everything at face value. She hadn’t just dropped by on the off chance – there’d been some planning – but whether she’d visited at Amy’s request or not, I wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, I was pleased that my girlfriend was at least talking to someone, if not me.
I was understandably upset that Amy had kissed Ritchie at James’ party, but I had no right to be angry. I’d disappeared to take Danny home and Amy had reasonably assumed that I wasn’t interested in her. But I understood why she hadn’t wanted me finding out about it. She’d realised that the only person who might tell me was Frankie and, to swear her to secrecy, she’d had to tell her about us.
Amy had been unwise to go to group study sessions with her English class – but no more than that. She clearly hadn’t told her mum that Ritchie would be there, but she’d obviously hoped that Frankie would always look out for her. Going to the meet-up at Billy’s had just been stupid and she should certainly never have got into a car on her own with Ritchie. It was now clear why Amy had been so upset after the police had interviewed her; they’d wanted to get to the bottom of her relationship with him.
But for all her naïvety, Amy had been badly let down by her schoolmates. They hadn’t warned her about Ritchie and, if Frankie was telling the truth, they’d positively encouraged her interest in him. In turn the school had failed the female students – failing to respond adequately to repeated complaints about the Head Boy’s behaviour. The chickens would be coming home to roost there, and I pictured the police combing through every allegation made over the previous seven years.
So Amy had told a few white lies and made a few bad judgements. Partly that was to protect me from finding out things that she thought might upset me, but I suspected that pushing back against her mother’s strict rules had also been a motivation. My girlfriend had been naïve, but she hadn’t known how much of a manipulative bully Ritchie was – I’d been unaware of his ‘wandering hands’, as Frankie had called them. No one could have predicted that he’d come after us with a knife.
That was the problem – you could point the finger at so many people – almost everyone had some responsibility for this tragedy: Rob for not picking me and Amy up on time; me for not telling the teachers about my confrontation with Ritchie in the bathroom at the Prom; Amy for not keeping her distance from him during the summer term and for answering his phonecall; the female students at school for not warning her about him and encouraging her interest in him; the school for not adequately dealing with the allegations about him; the list went on.
But at the end of the day, only one person had picked up a knife; Ritchie was sick and he needed treatment as much as he needed punishment.
My phone began to ring. It was Amy.
“Hello,” I said cautiously as I answered.
“Hello Jake,” she replied.
“It’s wonderful to hear your voice,” I said.
“Thank you,” she said. I could tell she was nervous. “Jake, I’m coming back home this afternoon,” she paused. “I need to talk to you. Can I come and see you tomorrow, please?”
“Of course,” I said. “Just come by any time. It’ll be really good to see you.”
“Thank you Jake,” she said.
There was an awkward pause.
“I love you Amy,” I said.
“I love you too Jake.”
–
Amy’s POV
I knocked nervously on the front door of the farmhouse. I hadn’t seen Jake for a whole week – longer than at any previous point in our relationship. We’d talked twice on the phone, but that was only so that I could tell him that I was going to my grandparents and then that I was coming back. But Jake had sent a couple of messages each day – wishing me well, telling me that he loved me, saying that I could call at any time if I wanted to, understanding that I needed time alone. That was Jake at his very best – supportive, but never intrusively so.
Jake had been a shadow of his former self after coming out of hospital. I’d been prepared to see him with the bandages on, but it was the effect of the concussion that had shocked me. He looked permanently sleep deprived and there were black circles around his eyes. He moved slowly and bending down seemed to bring on crashing headaches for him. He struggled a little to keep up in conversation with me. At times he seemed more like an old man of eighty than a boy of eighteen.
The front door opened and Jake appeared, with the widest smile I’d ever seen. His appearance was transformed from the previous week; the bandages and sling were gone and his skin was its usual glowing complexion. I felt a surge of love as I saw him.
“Hello beautiful!” he cried with delight as he saw me. “Come in.”
“Hello Jake,” I said, stepping through the doorway. He threw his arms around me and pulled me towards him.
“It’s so good to see you,” he said and he kissed the top of my head. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I said, “I really do.” I smiled at him.
Jake kissed me again and I felt his strong arms close around me once more. He squeezed me gently against him.
“Jake, I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “I ran away from you, I couldn’t cope, I shouldn’t have left…”
He put his finger on my lips to silence me. Then he bent his head downwards to kiss me. He cradled my head gently between his hands. I returned his kiss and pulled him closer to me.
This wasn’t how I thought things would happen. I’d imagined the two of us sitting at opposite ends of a sofa, talking rationally about the events of the past few months. Ending up with the pair of us in tears, then him throwing me out and vowing never to see or speak to me again.
We broke apart and he smiled at me again.
“Let’s have a cup of tea,” he said.
–
I’ve never known a family drink as much tea as Jake’s. They drank gallons of the stuff every day and the kettle was perpetually on the boil. Every visitor to the farmhouse was welcomed with tea in the kitchen, the heart of their home. It was a brave guest who asked for coffee.
Jake sat down opposite me at the table and he stretched out his hand to take mine. I was about to speak, to get everything off my chest, but he spoke first.
“Amy,” he said. “I’ve got something to tell you. I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you this before – I didn’t know how.”
I looked up worried. He was about to break up with me, I was sure.
“I had a scuffle with Ritchie during the Prom,” he said, breaking eye contact with me. “In the middle of the meal, after the main course. I went to the bathroom and he was there. And he was saying horrible things about you and he tried to punch me, so I tripped him up and he fell on the floor.”
Jake paused and looked me anxiously in the eyes.
“I’m sorry Amy, I should have told a teacher,” he said weakly. “I should have called Mum and asked her to pick us up straight away. He came back to settle the score. I’m sorry, I put your life in danger.”
There was a pause. I didn’t know that Jake had had an altercation with Ritchie, but the police had asked me if I remembered Jake leaving my side at any point. The first time I’d seen our attacker that night was outside the hotel, of that I was fairly certain. I couldn’t even remember seeing Ritchie during the photos at the start of the Prom. But hearing Jake admit that he’d made a mistake that night, prompted me to speak up.
“Listen Jake,” I said nervously. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you too.”
He nodded supportively.
“I know Mum was trying to keep Ritchie and me apart last term, but I did see him.” I searched Jake’s eyes looking for an angry reaction, but there was none. “I didn’t tell you,” she said, “but our English class got together a couple of times a week during Study Leave, to go through our set texts. And Ritchie was there, he was part of the group.” I searched Jake’s face in vain for any sign of anger.
“Mostly we were at Frankie’s house,” I continued, “but the last time she couldn’t make it, so we went to Billy’s. And I ended up getting a lift home in the car with Ritchie. I didn’t want to, I promise – I wanted to walk back, but Billy pressured me into it. And then when we were in the car, Ritchie apologised for what happened at James’ party and said he wanted to try again.”
I paused, looking up at Jake again.
“What did you say to Ritchie?” he asked, “in the car, I mean.”
“I thanked him for him apology,” I continued, “and said I just wanted to focus on my exams.” I paused again. “I’m sorry, I should have told him straight that I had a boyfriend, and that I wasn’t interested, but I was kinda scared what he might do.”
Jake nodded. “I think I’d have done the same thing,” he said graciously.
“And then he phoned me,” I continued. “After our exams were over. I shouldn’t have answered the call, but I did. He asked me to go to the Prom with him, said I should go on his table and get away from losers like you and Danny.”
Jake smiled. “I know he called you,” he said gently. “We were on the train back from Dorset and I saw his name on your phone.”
“And you didn’t say anything?” I asked, a little shocked.
Jake shook his head. “I trusted you and I knew you loved me. I guessed what he wanted to ask and I knew you’d do the right thing.”
“I told him that I had a boyfriend and that I wanted to sit on a table of losers,” I said. “But I didn’t say I was going out with you.”
Jake smiled. “I knew that’s what you’d do,” he said.
“You’re not angry?” I asked.
Jake shook his head and squeezed my hand gently. “We’ve both made mistakes,” he said. “We’ve not told each other things that we should have done – both of us. But neither of us wanted to hurt the other. Neither of us could ever have dreamt what Ritchie would do.”
“But that’s not all,” I said miserably. “I kissed him, I kissed Ritchie. At James’ party. He was my boyfriend for five minutes. Then he got aggressive, that’s when he tried to get my bra off, that’s why I ran. That’s I when found you.”
A strange look swept across Jake’s face. It wasn’t anger or pain or disappointment, it was something else. He took some deep breaths as if, trying to control his emotions.
I looked up at him miserably; the silence between us seemed to last an eternity.
“Say something Jake,” I said, “please.”
“It’s not something I wanted to hear,” he said slowly. “But I’ve got no right to be angry with you. You kissed someone else, before we got together. So what?” he asked defensively, shrugging his shoulders.
He was trying very hard to sound casual, to brush it off.
“I hadn’t played the hero and taken Danny home that night, it wouldn’t have happened – it’s my fault really,” he said.
He was covering really well, but he would be devastated by my revelation. I started to cry.
Jake got up and moved round to my side of the table and pulled me to my feet. He hugged me tightly as I wept into his chest. I was scared and frightened. I’d expected him to explode with rage and tell me to get out. But he hadn’t. He’d been Jake. He wasn’t angry with me. He was hurt, but he wasn’t angry. He loved me.
I had to let myself love him.
–
Jake’s POV
The final few days in July were blisteringly hot. I was fully recovered from the concussion and my stitches had been removed, but I was still forbidden from carrying any weight with my left arm or getting it wet. I’d been given a dressing to protect the scar from the sun, which I needed to change at least twice a day, but I was now adept at doing that with my right hand. I’d also seen a physiotherapist a couple of times and had some gentle exercises to practise. I was taking low-strength painkillers, but those seemed to serve no purpose, other than to prevent me from drinking alcohol.
I enjoyed being back at the Campsite, even if I was taking the pace a little gently to begin with. For the three weeks immediately following the attack, I’d usually wake two or three times each night. But the exercise and distraction of being at work again, improved things. Inside I wasn’t completely back to being the same old Jake, no, that could only happen once Ritchie was firmly behind bars, but the path ahead was becoming clearer.
My talk with Amy had been a great relief for a number of reasons. Although Frankie had already revealed all, it was good that Amy had had the confidence to tell me herself. Although I was sure that Frankie had prodded Amy into telling me about her interactions with Ritchie, I was certain that my girlfriend was unaware of Frankie’s visit. Equally I’d been able to tell Amy about my scuffle with him in the bathroom during the Prom, an incident that might well come to light at the trial.
Our talk had brought some issues out into the open that the two of us had tried to bury for the first few months of our relationship. We’d been able to be fully honest with each other, to be humble and to admit our mistakes and failings. We couldn’t go back to our pre-Prom loved-up innocence, but if we had a future together beyond the end of the summer, those were lessons we’d need to learn anyway.
Amy was no longer tearful, but her eyes were still without their bright glint. She was quiet and withdrawn, and we rarely laughed when we were together. In the background the police investigation was rumbling on, and focusing now on serious allegations of sexual assault made by two of our fellow students against Ritchie. There was an emergency meeting of the school governing body scheduled for the end of the month and the headteacher was expected to be suspended.
As my health improved and I became more confident at work, I was increasingly able to put the psychological effects of the attack behind me. But my girlfriend’s progress was being held back by the swirl of gossip and rumour that accompanied every twist and turn of the police inquiry. The week away at her grandparents had given her a break from that pressure, but now she vowed to stay by my side and to honour her work commitments at the Stables.
Although the doctors had forbidden me from indulging in any sort of sexual activity for the four weeks following the attack, it was clear that Amy wouldn’t be rushing to rip off my clothes once the new month began. We kissed, sometimes passionately, but nothing more than that. I yearned to lie naked with her in my bed, just to feel her body against mine. But whenever I tried to initiate anything, even something as innocuous as fondling her breasts over her sweater, she’d push me away.
I was saddened, confused, and frustrated – and I feared for our relationship in the weeks ahead.
–
Amy’s driving test was scheduled for the final Friday of July. I was on the late shift at the Campsite and had been keeping everything crossed for her all day. She’d promised to message to let me know how she’d got on, but as afternoon turned to evening, I still hadn’t heard from her and I feared the worst.
I managed to slip away for a short period after supper to give her a call. It took a long time for her to answer and I pictured her, sitting next to her phone, watching it ring as my name flashed up on the screen.
It was obvious from the tone of her voice that she’d failed. She’d screwed up a parallel park and had mounted the kerb at some point. She didn’t cry, but she sounded lower than she’d ever sounded before. I tried to be warm and encouraging, but I was well aware that almost anything I said would make her feel worse.
I ended the call a few minutes later, making the excuse that I needed to get back to work. Then I sat for a quarter of an hour, maybe more, mulling over everything. Barely a month before, the summer holidays had begun with so much promise and optimism, but now I couldn’t wait for them to end. The start of term at Cambridge, in early October, felt like a lifetime away.
And now, rearing its head on the horizon, in less than three weeks’ time, was the day that our A-level exam results would be announced – the third Thursday in August. Our places at university were contingent on getting the grades that we’d been predicted. Throughout July I’d been able to pretend that the fateful day was too far in the future to worry about, but now, with the start of the new month imminent, it seemed to be approaching with the speed and inevitability of a freight train. I was nervous.
Amy was in desperate need of good news and so was I.