His Silence : His Silence - Chapter 77 by Jacob1395 |
It’s eleven o’clock when we’re ready to go into town. I climb into my seat on the bus beside Callum. He’s glancing out of the window keeping his gaze fixed on the house. There’s something up with him. He hasn’t even said hi, and this is the first time I’ve seen him since breakfast. Mary gets into the driver’s seat and switches the engine on, before fastening her seatbelt. ‘How did it go?’ I ask Callum, making sure Mary’s preoccupied so she doesn’t hear us talking. At least we're sitting at the back of the bus. No one appears to be paying us any attention. He looks back towards me and shakes his head. His eyes are wet. I've only seen him cry a couple of times before. ‘I’ll talk to you later, when we get back.’ His voice cracks as he speaks which sends a shiver racing up my spine. What’s Mary said to him? We don’t speak for the rest of the journey into town. I can tell Callum’s fighting to keep the tears in, he keeps wiping his sleeve against them. Every now and again Callum keeps glancing across at the people sitting to the other side of us, and towards Mary. Something’s happened. She’s said something to him. I curl my fists. I want to ask him what they talked about but I know I’ll have to wait. I’ll make sure I ask him the moment we’re back at the house. Seagulls are fighting over a dead fox on the road as Mary swings the van into a car park; they don’t even seem bothered by the van passing them by. One of the birds yanks something away from the animal and flutters into the sky, their big white wings carrying them off. Once the engines died, I unbuckle my seatbelt and get up from my seat. We file off the bus in an orderly fashion, and once I’m by the door; I’m hit by the bracing sea air. The sound of people chatting catches my attention. There are a couple of twenty-odd year olds, wearing hooded dark jackets, looking in our direction, standing by their bikes, grinning as Mary parks up. It’s like they already knew we were going to be here. We must come around the same time every week; someone watching us would easily be able to take note. I look away. Please don’t say they’re going to start jeering at us. ‘Everyone all OK?’ Mary calls out once we’re all off the bus. Either she hasn’t noticed the group of lads still staring at us, or she doesn’t care. She doesn’t once look in their direction. ‘Right, let’s go.’ Mary leads the way, taking the same route to the shops we took last week, through a side alley, past a couple of greasy spoons, where men wearing green uniforms are hanging outside. If we were in London, we wouldn’t look too out of place; people might think we’re a tourist group following a guide, but not here in Southend. It reminds me of the school trips I used to go on, our teacher would tower above us and make sure we followed her in a straight line; we had to wear the same colour hat so she didn’t lose us. We must look a strange sight to people. It’s like we’re playing a game of follow the leader. Mary’s our shepherd and we’re her sheep. We break into the High Street, the bright sunshine making my eyes squint. Beside me, Callum stiffens. He’s looking straight ahead. I follow his line of sight and freeze. Abraham’s lumbering towards us, tears streaming down his face. He’s still in the same clothes he left in yesterday. There’s dried blood on his shirt. What time did he end up getting into town after Oliver expelled him? Did he manage to find somewhere to stay last night? ‘Mary . . . Mary please,’ he says, ambling closer towards us. Is he drunk? I move slightly behind Callum. He better not see me, I’ve no idea how he’ll react if he does; Abraham’s going to blame me for what happened to him. ‘I’m sorry, you’ve got to let me come back, I understand what I did was wrong. I’m sorry, but she’s the fault of all this if you hadn’t allowed her to come back.’ Mary strides over to him, grabs him by the collar and whispers something into his ear I can’t hear. ‘I won’t be one moment,’ she calls out to us, still in her same cheery voice. My heart thumps in my ears as I watch Mary drag Abraham over to a coffee shop. A couple of people sitting in the window look at them as they enter, grimacing. Mary directs Abraham towards a seat at the back and goes to the counter. He’s not seen me. Thank God. A few people are watching us now; one guy’s even got his phone out, holding it brazenly out for everyone to see. This better not end up on Tik Tok. Another person leans into someone else to say something, they both snigger at us. ‘C’mon,’ Callum says, pulling me towards the M&S supermarket. ‘We need to get out of here.’ I glance back over my shoulder towards the coffee shop as we dive into the store but Mary and Abraham have disappeared from my line of vision. At least no one else appears to be paying us any attention. I turn my head back and focus on the aisle ahead of us, breathing in the different scents of herbs and fresh vegetables. I take hold of Callum’s hand and he squeezes mine. Mary doesn’t reappear until we’re heading back for the mini bus. I’m holding onto two shopping bags, already my arms are beginning to strain. I want to keep my distance from the group, but there’s no way I can. We need to get back to the house; I need to ask Callum what’s going on. Mary’s keeping her head down, hands buried in her pockets. It doesn’t look like she’s going to tell us what she and Abraham discussed, but I’ve no doubt she’ll be telling Oliver back at the house. She’ll be thinking about what they spoke about now. Is she thinking that’s the end of it? What the hell’s happened to Abraham? She must’ve sent him on his way somewhere. Perhaps she told him to seek help. It’s as we get to the entrance of the car park Mary stops. Her gaze is fixed on the mini bus. Someone’s spray painted the word, “Freaks,” on each side of the van in red spray paint. My knees shake. I think of the people who were here in the car park when we arrived. It could only have been them. ‘Get into the bus everyone, now,’ Mary spits the words out. We load the shopping into the back of the minibus, and file in. No one speaks. Mary slams the door after the last person and buckles herself into the driver’s seat. The engine revs as she turns the vehicle on. ‘It was one of those lads we saw, I’m sure,’ I say to Callum as Mary pulls the minibus onto the road, ignoring the blare of a horn of the car she pulled out onto. Callum doesn’t say anything. Instead he stares straight ahead.
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