His Silence - Chapter Seventeen

‘You sure you want to stay?’ Callum whispers. His eyes flick to Oliver still sitting at the head of the table then back to me. ‘I honestly don’t mind driving back.’

I sigh. If I could, I would tell him he could go back and leave me here, but even if I did, I’m sure there’s no way he would. ‘I feel I need to, at least, just for tonight,’ I reply. I’d already told Oliver half an hour ago I’d like to take him up on his offer. ‘Don’t worry I’m sure everything will be fine.’

Mary approaches us, a sleeping bag stuffed under her arm. I’m not sure what to make of Mary. She seems nice, and always looks pleased to see me, but she looks at Callum a little too frostily, like the way Luke did when we arrived earlier. The only person here who’s shown Callum any attention is Eve. I flick my gaze around the room, but Eve’s left, she must’ve gone up to her room. I’m surprised she hasn’t asked Callum to follow her, after the way she was looking at him earlier. I shake the thought out of my head, but I can’t help picturing the two of them together, heads nestled next to each other. Stop it; they haven’t even spoken. I rub my arm.

‘I’m so sorry, Callum, but I’m afraid we don’t have a spare room for you, so if you don’t mind sleeping in this tonight? You can sleep here on the sofa,’ Mary says, patting the sleeping bag. ‘It should be comfortable enough for you.’

Callum smiles. There’s no way he’ll be happy about sleeping on the sofa. He’s only ever slept on a sofa once and that was at Rob’s when he moved into his apartment. Callum moaned for days about his back afterwards. ‘That’s fine, thanks.’ He takes the sleeping bag from her, shoving it under his arm.

‘Danielle, there is a room already here for you. It’s been here since you were born, I can take you upstairs to see it.’

I have a room here. The thought’s crazy. ‘Yep, please,’ I reply. Callum follows us out of the room. A couple of women brush past us in the corridor outside, talking in hushed voices. They both smile at me. ‘Where did Oliver go?’ I ask.

‘Oh, I suspect he’s out in the annexe, that’s where he stays,’ Mary replies as we climb the stairs. Upstairs people are going in and out of their rooms, some making their way into the bathroom. My eyes clap on a man entering his room to my right. He has thick, brown wavy hair. He keeps his gaze fixed on me, looking at me with what looks like pity in his eyes, before he slips into his room and closes the door. I shudder. ‘Your room is just at the end of the corridor.’

Someone must’ve unlocked the doors before everyone came up. We reach the end of the hallway, Mary opens the door. I stare into a small, comfortable room with a green carpet, fresh cool air greeting me. Someone left the window open a smidge. The walls are cream, like the hallway downstairs. There are two single beds in the room; the window looks out onto the gravel driveway below.

‘Why are there two beds?’ I ask.

‘You stayed in here with your brother,’ Mary explains.

This was the room I stayed in with my brother. I swallow. The memory I have of me being read to by Harvey. That happened in here. I see myself as a six-year-old getting ready, Harvey checking to make sure I was all set for the day.

‘Um, why can’t Callum stay in this bed?’ I ask, turning back round to face Mary.

Mary sharpens her gaze. ‘Oh, we don’t allow that. If you and Callum were to become members of our community here, then perhaps we might consider it, but not at this moment in time. We’ll both leave you now to get settled and ready for bed. There are glasses in the cabinet if you want to pour yourself a drink of water. Callum, would you like to come back downstairs with me?’

She’s not giving him a choice. ‘Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning, Danielle. What time do you want to leave?’ he asks, tightening his grip on the sleeping bag. He wants to leave now. He doesn’t want to stay.

‘Between ten and eleven,’ I suggest, trying to ignore the anxiety flittering in my belly.

He nods. ‘Night, Danielle.’

Mary and Callum back out of the room. Mary pulls the door shut. I listen for the sound of their voices, but I can’t hear them chatting. Callum won’t want to make small talk with Mary.

I place my soap bag on the bed closest to the window, sit on the end of my bed and pull out my phone. Thank God I have signal. I text Callum on WhatsApp.

            Thank you for helping me out, I really appreciate it.

I wait to see if he’s received it; no blue ticks appear at the bottom. I put it back on the table. My stomach clenches. He can’t be mad at me for wanting to stay. I don’t want him to be mad at me.

Moving over to the window, I peer outside, my eyes seeking out Callum’s car, if anything, to reassure me our mode of transport’s still here. A dark cloud’s smudged the moon’s surface. I push the window shut. I don’t know if I should feel comforted about their being so many people here, being this remote, or afraid. It feels like everyone’s watching me. The memory of me and my parents racing down the stairs in the dead of night resurfaces in my head. I try to push it deeper into my mind. Something bad happened here. They were running from something, or someone.

My phone stays silent. Callum doesn’t reply to my text.