“Your friend is on the way to the A&E,” she says. “Can you tell me what you know about what happened here?”
I retell everything as it happened with a shaky voice. I tell herI’m a teacher and have been living with Bella for many years now, and never ever heard or seen her take any drugs.
She asks me if I have heard of the man before, whose house this is, Alan Wincester, but I haven’t heard a name.
“Maybe if I see him,” I say. I don’t want to tell them about Bella’s various activities regarding men, but I’m also really bad at remembering names. Worst possible thing to have as a teacher.
“One of the people we found has been pronounced dead by the paramedics. If you feel up to it, could you help us identify him?”
Horror strikes through me.
So the man on the floor is dead.
Dead.
I have never seen a dead person before.
I can’t go back in there.
“I—I don’t know if I can,” I stutter and shake my head heavily, “I’m not made for this. I?—”
I zone out. Somehow, I can’t be here. I need to get away.
“I—I’m sorry, but I can’t—I need to leave?—“
And I jump up and walk away.
I walk.
And walk.
And walk.
Mindlessly.
Through a part of the city I don’t know well.
I don’t care.
What if Bella dies, too?
What if she’s being charged for the drug thing?
What the hell even happened?
Screeching tyres.
I realise my surroundings again. A car is an inch away from my legs. So close. My fingers glide subconsciously over the hood with an ornament on it. The Spirit of Ecstasy. I don’t know how I, who has no clue about cars, know that and why I even think of it, but I do.
I glance at the driver of the Rolls-Royce, he stares at me, and only when I see his wide eyes do I realise how close this must’ve been.
I need to get back home. What the hell am I doing here?
I turn.
I need to find the station.
Get back home.
