Emily's Baby: The Holds End Series, #2

By Chantelle Atkins

The killer of 15-year-old Lewis Matthews is finally behind bars and life can return to normal on the notorious Holds End estate.

For Bill Robinson this means a complex relationship intimately involving his two best friends, as well as a reckless alcohol addiction he struggles to conceal; all while his band, The Rebel Anthem, grows in popularity.

But the muffled status quo is short-lived.

Bill's 15-year-old sister Emily has some devastating news which leaves Bill permanently connected to his arch enemy Charlie McDonnal.

On top of that, Bill starts to suspect that a father lied to protect his son and the real killer is still among them…
Faced with the prospect of his little sister having a baby with a monster, Bill must do everything he can to get to the truth before it is too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chantelle Atkins
• Release date: Mar 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393257202

Chantelle Atkins

Chantelle Atkins was born and raised in Dorset, England and still resides there now with her husband, four children, and multiple pets. She is addicted to reading, writing, and music and writes for both the young adult and adult genres. Her fiction is described as gritty, edgy and compelling. Her debut Young Adult novel The Mess Of Me deals with eating disorders, self-harm, fractured families and first love. Her second novel, The Boy With The Thorn In His Side follows the musical journey of a young boy attempting to escape his brutal home life and has now been developed into a 6 book series. She is also the author of This Is Nowhere and award-winning dystopian, The Tree Of Rebels, plus a collection of short stories related to her novels called Bird People and Other Stories. The award-winning Elliot Pie’s Guide To Human Nature was released through Pict Publishing in October 2018. Emily's Baby  is her latest release and is the second in a YA trilogy.

Book preview

1

Dreams of blood made her want to keep it.

Dreams where warmth soaked the bed and she woke up plucking the covers away to inspect the sheets. Dreams where the blood started to flow while she lay in the bath or sat on the toilet. After every dream, she would wake up and for a few breathless moments she would think it had happened. She would think it had flowed away in the blood and then she would feel such an overwhelming sense of loss, that tears would fill her eyes before she could convince herself it had just been a dream.

Dreaming of blood made her want to keep her baby, to hug her arms around her slightly distended belly, in a bid to keep the baby in place.

But it was stupid, so stupid. Her, having a baby. She would have no money and no clue how to look after it. But still the dreams came, and after waking, she would check for blood before holding her belly and allowing herself indulgent daydreams. She would close her eyes and permit a soft smile and imagine silly things, like her and Charlie, together. Her and Charlie, pushing a pram. Her and Charlie and the baby.

Emily whipped the duvet back and swung her feet to the floor. She sat up and was immediately conscious of her belly. It couldn’t have grown that much already, and yet it had. Her phone beeped. She pushed back a tangle of dark brown hair and grabbed it from her bedside table. It was Summer

On my way. Hope u ok xx

Emily yawned and tapped back a reply. I’m fine. C U soon.

Downstairs in the kitchen, chair legs screeched against the floor. A cup was slammed down. The rumble of an argument grew louder. Emily went to her wardrobe and grabbed the first pair of jeans and sweatshirt she came to. Looking good was not exactly her biggest priority right now.

Another bang from downstairs, followed by the back door being wrenched open. She knew that if she went to the window and looked down, she would see her father’s smoke rings rising to greet her. A cupboard slammed shut. Emily got dressed and ran a brush through her hair. Her parents argued below. At first the words were inaudible - both attempting to keep a lid on things - but Emily knew they would explode any moment. She picked up her phone and slid it into her pocket.

‘I didn’t bloody say that!’ her father bellowed suddenly, making her jump. She felt vomit rising and slapped a hand to her mouth.

‘It always comes back to the same thing!’ her mother shouted back. ‘You think you own me!’

‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous!’

‘Oh, I’m ridiculous, am I? You’re the one making a show of yourself!’

‘I came to check up on you! Walk you home! More fool me, eh!’

Another slam, another bang and their voices climbed above it all, one trying desperately to outshout the other. Emily covered her mouth and rushed to the bathroom to be sick.

*

Summer picked up her hand and patted it.

‘You all right?’

Emily had been staring at the floor, her eyes fixed hypnotically on a discarded toy fire engine. She felt Summer give her fingers a slight squeeze. She blinked hard and lifted her head.

‘Yeah. I’m okay.’

‘What did you tell your mum?’

Emily pulled her hand free and slumped back in the chair. ‘That I was wanting to go on the pill.’ She caught the surprised expression on Summer’s face and nodded at her. ‘Yeah, I know. Bit late for that now. I didn’t know how else to get her to make an appointment for me without coming with me.’

Summer offered a hesitant smile. ‘Do you want me to come in with you?’

Emily shook her head. ‘No, I’ll be okay. I just need to...’ she drifted off, turning her head to gaze at the door that led through to the consultation rooms. She swallowed. ‘I’ll be okay once I’ve got it over with.’

Summer opened her mouth to say something else but seemed to think better of it and closed it again. Her phone beeped at her, and sensing her relief, Emily checked her own to allow Summer to do the same. Side by side, their thumbs swiped up and down their screens. Summer leaned back in her chair, an expression of exasperation on her face which soon gave way to annoyance. Emily sat forward, elbows on knees, and with the phone held on top of them she could feel them shaking.

Finally, her name was called, and she got up, both terrified and excited to get it over with. It was decision time, she knew. She ignored the supportive nod and smile from Summer and walked stiffly across the waiting room and out through the door Doctor Harvey was holding open for her.

The doctor smiled and showed her to a room on the left. Emily took a seat, tucked her legs under the chair and clasped her hands in her lap, her phone still between them. The doctor mirrored her position and remained smiling.

‘So, how can I help you today, Emily?’

Emily opened her mouth and sucked in air. She felt her chest rise with it, her shoulders following, and she knew that she had to say it on the exhalation. She had to shove the words out, because if she didn’t do it then, she never would.

‘I’m pregnant,’ she whispered, her eyes growing rounder when she heard how thin and hissed her voice was.

The doctor smiled. It was a smile of warmth and sympathy and Emily wanted to cry, there and then. She pressed her lips together, held her breath and hung on.

Doctor Harvey, a middle-aged lady with chestnut brown hair worn in a shiny bob with a neat fringe, was nodding at her.

‘Are you sure?’ she asked, and Emily nodded fiercely, tears now welling in her eyes as she looked away from the sympathy in the doctor’s eyes. She focused on the slim black phone in her grasp. ‘You’ve done tests?’

Emily nodded again.

‘More than one?’

Another nod. ‘And do you know the date of your last period, Emily?’

‘Yes, it was the eleventh of November.’

The doctor, still smiling, opened a drawer and brought out a small cardboard circle. She turned it in her hand like a dial and then looked back at Emily.

‘That makes you about twelve weeks pregnant.’ 

Another nod. Her eyes batted at the tears, some escaping and rolling down her cheeks. She sniffed and lifted a hand to wipe them away.

‘And how do you feel about that?’

How did she feel about that? Emily blinked and shook her head. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to tell the doctor that she simply felt terrified. Ashamed. Stupid. Instead, she swallowed and looked away.

‘Do your parents know, Emily?’

She shook her head.

‘Have you told anyone? What about the father?’

‘No. He doesn’t know. I’ve told a friend. One friend.’

The doctor placed the cardboard dial on the desk and leaned forward, her eyes soft, her demeanour calm and soothing.

‘Well, that’s good. I’m glad to hear that. This is a very big and scary thing for a girl of your age to deal with. I’m here to help you in any way I can. Okay?’

Emily sniffed and nodded.

‘Do you want to know what your options are at this point?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Okay. Well, obviously you can keep the baby and continue the pregnancy. You will need to come here and see the midwife on a regular basis throughout the pregnancy to check your health and the progress of the baby. Okay?’

Emily nodded and wiped her nose with her sleeve. ‘Okay.’

‘Obviously, you will need a lot of support and we can certainly help with that in lots of ways and put you in touch with other organisations that can.’

‘Okay.’

‘Right. So, secondly, you can choose to have the baby and give it up for adoption. Okay?’

Emily nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘We can talk more about that further down the line if you want to go in that direction. And third, the third option is you terminate the pregnancy now, before it progresses any further.’

‘How?’ she lifted her shoulders and dropped them. ‘How do you do that?’

‘Well at twelve weeks, it’s too late for you to have the medical termination, which involves ending the pregnancy through taking pills.’

‘Oh.’

‘At twelve weeks, you would have what we call an early surgical abortion, which involves gently sucking the pregnancy from the uterus and out of your vagina.’ The doctor was still looking at her, but Emily could only look at the floor. ‘If much more time passes, you would have to have the surgical abortion, which essentially is the same, but is more invasive.’

‘Because the baby will be bigger?’

The doctor nodded. ‘Yes. Emily, I can give you some leaflets to take home with you. I can also put you in touch with a local clinic. They perform the terminations and they also offer counselling appointments. You do not have to make this decision today.’

‘But I do have to make it soon.’

‘There is an element of being against the clock, yes.’

‘I think I want to keep it.’

There. She had said it. The thing she had not even been able to tell Summer. Summer, who couldn’t hide the distaste in her eyes every time Charlie was mentioned. Summer, who would feel like Bill would about this baby - that it was the spawn of the devil.

Emily cupped her hands around her stomach and swallowed again. The doctor was watching her carefully.

‘You need to tell your parents, Emily. Is that going to be something you can do?’

‘I suppose I have to.’

2

It was always Adam who pulled away from the kiss first.

‘Your house is quiet.’ He said it with a sigh, rolling away from Bill and flinging one arm up and over his head, as if hiding. Bill knew the pattern. Adam’s flushed face, because for some reason, the embarrassment always got the better of him, and he did what he was doing now. Pulling away, hiding his face, changing the subject. Didn’t he realise that it just made Bill want him even more?

Bill almost laughed at Adam’s predicable reaction, but too many things were building up and pissing him off. Something had to give. He knew what Adam needed was a good drink. Something that would loosen him up and stop his fears getting in the way. Bill rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He could feel the kiss still lingering on his lips. Half of him wanted to wipe it away in anger, the other half wanted to roll back to Adam and do it again.

‘Dad stormed out the back,’ Bill remarked, his voice gruff, as he folded his arms behind his head and kicked at the floor with one bare foot. ‘Mum went out the front.’

‘They’re not getting on well then?’

‘No.’

‘Your mum is really weird around me these days.’

‘Well, you know why.’

Adam, still hiding behind his arm, paused before asking. ‘What does she know?’

‘Not much. Just that we kissed.’

Another sigh, and Bill could feel him retreating further. He didn’t understand it. Adam was the one who had never hidden who he was from anyone. Why was he doing it now?

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he told him. ‘Who cares what she thinks? She’ll get over it. She’ll piss off before we know it anyway. You can see it coming a mile off.’

‘I better go home.’

‘Why?’

‘Coursework.’

‘Go on then.’

Adam sniffed. His arm slipped down and he sat up slowly, yawning, and then rubbing at his hair. He stared at the wall while Bill remained on the bed behind him.

‘I thought you had band practice anyway.’

‘Yep.’

‘How’s it going?’

Bill couldn’t be bothered to answer. How could he explain it? Why bother to try? Adam didn’t need to know. Didn’t want to know. He was just making conversation. Changing the subject. Leading them away from something else.

‘We’re playing at the fundraiser on Friday night. Come and see for yourself.’

‘I was planning to.’ He was on his feet now - still pretending that everything was fine. His tone jovial and his movements lazy. Pretending he couldn’t feel the darkness brewing behind him.

‘Are you gonna bring Noah?’

Bill enjoyed watching the stiffening of Adam’s shoulders. He always had to do it - put a snide emphasis on the name. Make it sound like he was someone stupid, someone beneath them, barely worth mentioning. A sigh. A tiny, sad little sigh. It was pathetic. Bill felt anger bloom like a cloud inside his chest and he wanted to pick something up and hurl it at Adam’s head. It was childish, but he didn’t care.

Adam was shoving his feet into his trainers. He had a tense look on his face now and wouldn’t meet Bill’s eye.

‘I might do,’ he said, softly. ‘He keeps saying he wants to meet you.’ A half shrug.

‘Bring him then,’ Bill exclaimed. ‘Do it.’

It was a challenge. A dare. Bring it on.

Adam sniffed, offered a smile and picked up his hoodie from the end of the bed. He said see you later and slouched out before any more damage could be done. Coward. Adam was a coward these days. Bill could barely believe it.

He rolled onto his belly, found his phone on the pillow and picked it up.

Summer had shot him back a text.

Yes I was gonna bring Luke, that ok with u?

Bill grinned. She sounded angry, like normal. Why don’t you bring Luke on Friday, he had texted her earlier, baiting her, daring her, just as he had dared Adam. Bring Luke and let him watch me sing. Let him watch you watch me sing.

Cool he wrote back, c u then

There was another message waiting to be opened. Logan. Bill raised his eyebrows. That name peaked his interest more than it had done a few months ago.

Fancy a smoke out the back? I got weed

He was an idiot, writing it in a text, but that was his problem, not Bill’s. He sat up, grabbed his coat, slipped on his shoes and texted him back.

Coming

3

Andy came in the back way, with a muddied Tess. He grabbed her towel from under the sink, cleaned up her feet and chucked her a biscuit. He slipped his hands into his pockets and exhaled. As he exhaled, he closed his eyes and listened to the house. Silence greeted him. For a small moment, peace and quiet. Andy snapped back into action, flicking the kettle on, grabbing the milk from the fridge and yelling, ‘Anyone home? I’m making tea!’

When there was no answer, he left the kettle bubbling and wandered through to the hallway. There were no shoes stranded by the front door, which meant that everyone was out. Returning to the kitchen, he made his solitary cup of tea, lit a roll-up and positioned himself at the back door, leaning into the frame. He heard her voice at the back of his head, like always.

You can’t sit still, can you?

He was sure that she had liked this about him once. Liked and admired his energy and his passion. Except, that energy and passion had never really taken him anywhere, had it? All that adrenalin coursing around his body his whole life, and what had he ever done with it? Worked crap jobs, stormed about and shouted at people. He couldn’t blame her really, could he?

She was really the one with the passion. The drive. She’d realised what she wanted and she’d gone for it. She’d been doing well too, until he’d called her back and ruined her dream. Again. Andy loved the bones of her, adored her, would have done anything for her, but now he found himself questioning his decision daily. Had he done the right thing? Or had he just been selfish all over again? Had he made things worse?

He puffed smoke aggressively over the patchy lawn and considered the lay of things. They were at each other’s throats all the time. It was like history repeating itself, and they both knew it. They were repeating the past, having learnt nothing, neither one capable of stopping it. Neither of them knowing how.

Andy listened to the silence of the house behind him and thought about what he had done. He had called her back because he needed her. But look at them now. Bill despised his mother. He did everything he could to avoid her, and when forced into her company, he took great pleasure in goading her and daring her to leave again.

Viv tried so hard and it made Andy’s heart ache to see it. She wanted to help Bill. She wanted desperately to reconnect with him and put things right. But he wouldn’t have it, would he?

And Emily. She’d been so happy to start with. Especially after all that nasty business with the McDonnal’s. Having her mum back had seemed to sort her out. She’d seemed young again, carefree. But even that did not last long - she was different lately. He’d seen her eyes red from crying more than once. What was happening to them all?

The front door banged shut. Andy sipped his tea and turned to face whoever had returned home. Vivienne. Strolling through the lounge, tossing her handbag onto the sofa and lifting her long black hair away from her neck. Her face was flushed. Maybe she had been running. She saw him, and he didn’t miss the tight look that passed over her face.

‘Kettle’s just boiled,’ he sighed at her, pointing a finger. She paused in the doorway, folding her arms across the long cream jumper she was wearing.

‘I’m okay,’ she said, and he nodded. Then, ‘We can’t keep doing this.’

He wanted to ask what but knew that it would annoy her; he nodded in agreement.

‘No, we can’t. It’s not good for the kids, is it?’

‘Not good for us either.’

‘I am sorry,’ he tried with a shrug. ‘I shouldn’t have followed you. I was over the top.’

‘You’re always over the top,’ she replied, the ghost of a smile on her dark red lips.

‘Guilty,’ he agreed. He looked at her openly. Wanted to cross the room in two steps and yank her into his arms. He couldn’t help thinking it every time he looked at her. It had always been the same: you are mine.

‘Kids out?’ she asked, peering back over her shoulder.

‘Em’s still out with Summer,’ he nodded. ‘I don’t know where Bill is. He must have gone out with Adam.’

Andy saw Viv stiffen. Her lips rolled into a ball and then straightened out again. She did the hair flick and glared at the floor.

‘Hmm.’

He couldn’t help laughing. ‘You really don’t need to worry about those two, you know.’

She gave in finally, blowing out her breath and slipping into the kitchen chair. He watched her prop her head up, elbows on table, hands in hair.

‘I just don’t think he needs the distraction. He needs to concentrate on school and on his voice. His head is all over the place, that’s all I worry about.’

Andy nodded, tight lipped. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I still think he has eyes for Summer. I mean, I’ve seen the way he looks at her.’

‘Exactly!’ Viv said, dropping her hands and staring at him. ‘This is my point! He is clearly not gay!’

Andy laughed again, shrugged and swallowed tea.

‘It’s not funny,’ she warned him. ‘This is wearing me out. Fighting with him all the time. I want to manage him and he won’t let me. He’s going to waste his talent if he’s not careful! He needs someone to direct him.’

‘He’ll come around in time.’

It was a lie and they both knew it.

The door opened again. Shut softly. There was a pause in the hallway. The sound of Tess greeting whoever had come home. Her bushy tail swishing against the wall and the closed door. Murmuring. Kisses. Emily.

‘That you, Em?’ Andy called out, chucking his dog end out into the garden and slamming the back door. He gulped the last of his tea and placed the cup in the sink.

‘Yep,’ came the strained reply. 

Their eyes met across the table.

‘You okay?’ Andy called out again.

Viv got to her feet. She beat him to it, flicking that hair back, storming into the lounge. Andy followed. Emily stepped in from the hallway. He thought she looked like a smaller version of her mother; same face shape, the same eyes and hair. Her bottom lip was trembling and she was trying to smile through it. He saw her swallow, seem to gather herself, and then as Viv reached out and touched her arm, she broke down.

‘Emily!’

Viv wrapped her arms around her. Andy hovered, bobbing around, touching her and pulling away.

‘What’s happened? Tell me girl! Who’s upset you?’

‘I need to talk to you...’

‘Okay, okay,’ Viv wiped her tears from her cheeks and led her to the sofa. ‘Let’s get you sat down, darling. You can tell us. You can tell us anything, my love.’

Viv sat next to her, arm around her shoulders, face patient and waiting, full of concern. Andy didn’t know what to do with himself, and there was a terrible coldness expanding in his chest, like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. He had that feeling all over again. The one that consumed him when they’d come running into the community centre, screaming that his son was hurt, that he needed an ambulance. Andy covered his mouth with his hands and waited.

Emily, choking on her own tears, seemed determined to hold on to herself. He could see the battle in her eyes. She wanted to dissolve, to roll into her mother’s arms and sob like a baby, but for some reason she was biting it down, fighting herself.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and then she kept saying it. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Mum and Dad, I’m so sorry!’

And again, Andy had that cold feeling in his chest. The room temperature dropping, the walls moving, everything fading, becoming unstable, unclear. He wanted it to stop. He had the strongest feeling that she was about to say something that would change everything.

And then she did.

‘I’m pregnant...’

4

The text message bounced in after leaving the fort and Logan and the cloud of sweet cannabis smoke. Bill would not have noticed it if he hadn’t been fiddling with his phone, choosing some music.

Your a dead man walking

Bill was already aware that the person behind the messages lacked proper grammar. It was a different number again. He wondered if he ought to note it down, tell the police, just in case, but so far, he had not felt the need. So far, he had been ignoring them all entirely. They didn’t scare him, not in the slightest. Whoever it was obviously used different phones, maybe stolen ones, maybe friends’.

Charlie. It was Charlie, which was why Bill could ignore them. Sending messages back was pointless. It was over. Everything was supposed to be over - that had been the deal. That was the result they had fought for in the mud the night Bill won the talent contest. But someone didn’t quite feel the same, did they?

Red-eyed and chilled out, Bill pushed the message to the back of his mind where it belonged and sauntered casually through the estate towards Jimmy’s house. Band practice was a haphazard thing these days. It didn’t happen as much as it should, and everyone had apologies to make. They were all busy. Jobs. University. Relationships. There was always some excuse. They should have been practicing every day, Bill thought, but once a week was about all that could be agreed on.

But at least they had gigs. Regular gigs: every Monday night at Chaos, regulars in various pubs, and they were always in demand on the estate. Parties, anniversaries, weddings. For once in his life, Bill had money. He was seriously considering leaving school, jacking in the A-Levels and concentrating on the band full time. There just wasn’t time for both.

Sacrifices, he thought, wandering off the estate, and heading towards Jimmy’s. His mind was fogged by the smoke with Logan, but in a good way. Allowing him to focus on a particular thing, like the shadows on the ground, or the light that broke through the trees along the pavement, or the sound of an approaching car. He was reminded how much strange beauty there was in everyday things and decided that would be a great song title. Strange Beauty.

Smiling calmly to himself, Bill arrived at Jimmy’s and went around the back to the garage. Mali let him in, throwing her arms around him exuberantly, which made him wonder if they had been drinking before he arrived. She ushered him inside, arms still firmly around his middle, either wilfully ignoring or totally oblivious to the stiffness of his body. Mali had no idea how to respect people’s personal space, he’d learnt. She acted like she owned you. There were times when he quite simply despised her.

There was the unmistakable sound of glass bottles clinking in a carrier bag as Jimmy kicked something under the sagging sofa and flicked back his loose brown hair to raise an eyebrow at Bill.

‘Hey Bill, how’s it going?’

Bill paused before answering. How’s it going? You all right? God, he hated those questions. Everyone always asked them, and everyone always answered in the same way. Fine. Great. Okay, thanks. Not bad. No one ever spoke the truth. He glanced at the plastic carrier bag handle poking out from under the sofa and wanted to tell them that everything would be a hell of a lot better if they would just let him drink with them again. But it was pointless. He nodded and shrugged, and the two movements let Jimmy and the others know that Bill was not in the mood for talking today, and band practice commenced.

They started with the Catfish and The Bottlemen song they had been asked to sing this Friday night at the centre. Kevin Bennet asked them to play frequently because they drew in the crowds, which drew in the money. The centre still had to convince the council they were worth keeping open.

Bill played the guitar and sang. He was almost good enough on the guitar. Almost. And then there were the songs he and Jimmy had been working on. It still amused him to think he had finally found the words. Not that any of them made much sense, but there was something delicious about that; lyrics that people had to figure out. Jimmy added bits here and there, but he was better with the music, knowing how fast to strum the guitar, where they would need the chorus and so on. It was beautiful, Bill thought. Like creating magic. Like playing God. He couldn’t think of anything more exciting.

They played the song they had started working on before the talent contest finale.

‘Maybe this Friday we ought to sing it,’ Jimmy said after.

‘I dunno,’ Bill wasn’t so sure it was finished yet.

‘You gotta be brave at some point,’ Mali pointed out. ‘Though I still think it ought to be faster. Faster drums.’

‘Let’s have another run through,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘Bill?’

Bill shrugged, waited for Mali’s throbbing yet restrained drum intro and then growled the lyrics in time with Jimmy’s first savage thrash of the guitar.

‘My ears are full of blood

So I can’t hear you calling

I never call you back

Cos I got nothin’ to say...

My mouth’s full of blood

I can’t stop falling

I can’t say a word

When you walk away...’

*

He declined a lift from Mali and wandered home alone. Mali was apt to throw herself at him just before he got out of the car. She liked to call him her little brother, but he didn’t think she would be constantly trying to plant wet kisses on her brother if she had one. She amused and alarmed him in equal measures. He kept her at arms length, gave nothing away of himself or his soul, but he couldn’t deny the electricity in the air when they played the music. When she pounded those drums as if her life depended on it, he found himself drawn to her, turning to meet her eyes, which were almost always on him. It was a mind fuck really. Everything.

And Friday night. It was always Friday night, and oh how he wished he had the means to drink it in properly, like all young folk ought to do. Friday night was their horizon. Everyone kept their eyes on it all week; they all got higher on Friday, whatever their poison. High on Friday itself, high on life. Lifted. Elevated. He didn’t know why. Didn’t understand why.

And this Friday Kevin was paying them a little bit of money to play a handful of songs for the youth club. One of these days they’d be too big for it, Bill reasoned, too busy, too much in demand. Though he was determined they would never forget where they came from, or what part the centre played in their story. Still, this Friday he would be King of the stage. King of everything. Elevated.

He licked his lips, felt the tingle in his spine, the cold clutch in his chest, the dryness of excitement and fear in his mouth at the thought of them all there. Summer and Luke. Adam and Noah.

Bill arrived home, wide-eyed and tightly sprung. He instantly rejected the idea of his bedroom and thought he would opt for the garden wall instead – sneak a drink if there was a chance in hell.

But there was no chance.

His mum and dad were stationed firmly in the living room, with Emily between them. They were all clutching cups of tea and wearing frozen white masks. Something had happened. Bill felt it as soon as he stepped through the door. He could feel the tension cloaking him.

Emily met his eye and then looked away again. She had been crying. So had their mother. His first thought was Charlie. Charlie fucking McDonnal.

His father cleared his throat, looked flustered and fidgety. He tried to say something and failed. Looked helplessly at his wife and daughter, seeking permission. His clasped hands opened and closed again.

‘What’s going on?’ Bill asked them.

‘Emily?’ Vivienne looked at her daughter, who seemed to tighten then, lowering her head slightly, fixing her shoulders, leaning forward, eyes glaring, lips tight.

‘You might as well tell him,’ she said.

‘Tell me what? What’s happened?’

She shook her head slightly, sending her dark hair back over both shoulders. She met his eyes with a frightened yet steely look. Then she opened her mouth and said the last thing he had expected her to say.

‘I’m pregnant.’

And his first thought was, oh my fucking god.

And his second thought was - Charlie.

5

Instantly she regretted it. It was too soon. She should have waited. Her parents were one thing, still sitting there in stunned silence. Bill was another. Yet somehow, she couldn’t possibly have waited a day more. She could not have asked that of herself. Living a lie. A secret, separate life. She watched the rage filling Bill’s face. The knowing. The unspoken word.

Charlie.

She watched him open his mouth to suck in air and she watched his lips close again, his teeth clenched, his lips pushing out a snarl, imprisoning the words he wanted to say. He stood there staring at her, arms hanging at his sides, eyes glazed, staring, hating.

‘Say something!’ she barked at him suddenly, making them all jump. Fresh tears burst from her eyes and flowed down her cheeks. She hated him suddenly. Hated him for knowing.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and looked like he wanted to kill her. Looked like he wanted to tear her limb from limb.

‘You stupid fucking bitch.’

‘Bill!’ Their mother was on her feet. ‘There’s no need for that! She’s upset enough already!’

Their father held up his hands. He looked anguished, thought Emily, his emotions, always spread all over his face for the world to see. She felt her stomach dive, the guilt of it hitting her for the first time. He had already been through so much.

‘Is it his?’

The question on everyone’s lips, and of course, Bill would be the one to ask it. Emily imagined the question inside his head, pushing steam out of his ears. She considered lying. Maybe she should say no, it’s not Charlie’s. It’s someone else’s. But her silence was enough for him. He knew.

‘It is, isn’t it?’

Her parents were staring at her, desperation in