15. Jessica

Jessica

The next two days are kind of a blur and I'm so spaced out, I'm barely even aware of what month it is. I try my best to keep busy and go through the motions of pretending to be normal, because that's the only thing I can do. The only thing that prevents me from breaking down completely. As always, I find a way to compartmentalise my problems and put the nightmare from the alleyway behind me.

Every day, I take Freddie to school, help Mum clean up around the house, run general errands and do everything I can to help her prepare for her trip. I hide my secret torment from her and keep a smile plastered to my face at all times. I try not to think too hard about the many troubling questions that remain unanswered, such as did Jack and his friends survive the tentacle attack?

And if they did what happens now? Did they tell the police and ambulance services what they saw? But who would believe it? More importantly, is there any chance I could be implicated as a potential witness? Will I soon be receiving a knock on the door from the police to ask me questions about what happened? This, however, seems unlikely as Jack and his mates would then have to explain what we were all doing in that alley just before the attack, and they wouldn't exactly come out smelling of roses. Still, the thought of what the future repercussions could be worries me.

A couple of times, Cynthia catches me staring off into the distance and asks me if I'm okay, and I say yeah, everything's great, she shouldn't worry about me, which just isn't true. More than anything, I long to fall into my mother's arms, sob my heart out and tell her everything that happened—about Jack and the attempted rape, about the carnage in the alley, about my escorting work and most of all, that I have fallen in love with a demon called Alex. I wish I could confide in her about everything, but unfortunately, I can't, because she has enough to deal with right now, plus she'd never believe all the supernatural stuff, so I keep all my feelings bottled up in the hope that one day soon, when the time is right, I'll be able to come clean with her.

Then on Thursday morning, I take my umbrella and trudge through the rainswept streets of Clapham to Freddie's school for a meeting with his class teacher, Miss Barnes—a loud, boisterous lady with fuzzy brown hair, brightly coloured clothing and novelty glasses. As I take a seat in her messy office lined with dog-eared furniture, I decide she reminds me of a children's TV presenter: overly cheerful and desperate to be liked, but ultimately fake.

"I'm so sorry, I'll be with you in just two secs," she beams, riffling through a stack of papers on her desk. "I can't seem to find Freddie's school report anywhere. I'm sure it was here a moment ago. My goodness, what am I like? I'm so bloody disorganised!" Miss Barnes laughs in an attempt to ingratiate herself to me, but I only manage a tight smile in return. There's something about this woman I do not like and decide it's best to tread carefully until I know more about her.

While Freddie's teacher continues to fuss over the missing report, I scrutinise her office closely. The walls are covered with kid's drawings and it smells of floor polish and pencil shavings, the hallmark of a typical primary school. For a moment, I close my eyes and am transported back to being an eight-year-old again. Looking back, I'd actually quite enjoyed my time at primary school. It was only when I went to secondary school that things began to go wrong.

"Found it!" Miss Barnes trills, holding up a grey folder that I presume is my brother's report. Silently, she flips through a couple of pages to familiarise herself, and then adopts a more authoritative tone. "Okay, thanks for coming today, Jessica. You are Freddie's…?"

"Sister," I clarify with a nod.

"His sister, great. And where is his mother?"

"Sorry, Cynthia couldn't be here today because she's travelling abroad tonight, so I came instead. I'm on record as one of his next of kin."

"Fine. Well, let's get down to it then." She clears her throat. "To start with, I just wanted to say what a lovely boy Freddie is. He has a wonderful little personality with so many good qualities. He just has trouble concentrating in class sometimes. Also, sometimes he can be a bit disruptive to the other kids because he lacks concentration, and that's one of the areas we really need to work on."

"When you say disruptive, what do you mean exactly?" I ask.

She spreads out her hands. "Freddie gets easily distracted in class. He finds it hard to follow instructions, gets bored easily and doesn't seem to engage with the books we give him to read."

"That's because the books are boring," I snap. "He doesn't find them intellectually challenging. The reading level you have put him at is far below his capabilities. My brother is more advanced than you give him credit for, but you're still giving him books for five-year-olds to read."

Miss Barnes looks very offended. "Really? Is that what you truly think? I suppose we could assess his reading level again and see what comes back. However, I do have other concerns. Whenever we ask him to read in front of the class he freezes up and refuses. Part of our literacy assessment is based on the child being able to confidently speak in front of their peers, and Freddie isn't really capable of doing that at present. He appears to have difficulty with social interactions."

"That's only because my brother is shy when put in front of large groups of people," I counter fiercely. "What's wrong with that? Lots of kids are shy at his age. Anyway, what about his maths? He's very good with numbers. Why don't you talk about that instead of focusing on the negative?"

"Yes, I agree he is exceptionally good at maths and that is one of the few areas I have no concern about. But…" His teacher releases a heavy sigh. "I'll get to the crux of the matter. Freddie can be quite tactile with the other children, and that has been causing problems."

"What do you mean by tactile?"

Miss Barnes scratches the side of her mouth. "He keeps trying to hug the other children, even when they don't want him to, and then he gets upset and sometimes lashes out when things don't go his way. I'm sure he means well, but Freddie seems to find it hard to acknowledge other children don't always want their personal space invaded."

My temper flares. "But that's just Freddie showing affection to the other children. Me and my mum give him hugs all the time. We are a very demonstrative family. I don't understand why it's a problem. The world needs more love, not less of it."

"Be that as it may, we've had several complaints from some of the other parents. The truth is Jessica, we're at a point where I don't believe this school can provide Freddie with the level of attention he needs any longer. Ravensbourne is a small school with only one teaching assistant per class, but what Freddie needs is somebody to devote their full attention to him on a daily basis, and we are just not able to do that here because we simply don't have the resources."

Taking off her glasses, she shines up the lenses on her cardigan and puts them back on. "We've always known he was on the spectrum and when Freddie first started here, we thought we could meet his requirements. Sadly, I no longer think that is the case, so we are going to have to explore other options."

"What are you suggesting?" I say sourly.

"I think you and your mother are going to have to seriously consider sending Freddie to a school for autistic children. Somewhere they can cater to his needs. That's my personal opinion, anyway."

"But we've already looked into that," I say. "Those specialist schools are expensive, and my family does not have the money to pay for him to go to one. Plus, we really want Freddie to mix with regular children as we feel it will be good for his development."

"I understand," she says with faux empathy. "But you've got to think about what's best for Freddie. If you did decide to send him to a private school which specialises in autism, then you could always apply to the local council for funding. Did you know there is help for low-income families? If you're interested, I'd be happy to help you fill out the relevant application forms and walk you through the process."

"That won't be necessary, thank you," I say, standing up and putting on my coat. "As of next week, we will be taking Freddie out of school to go travelling for a month, and after that we will look to explore our options."

"You're taking him out of school?" Miss Barnes appears alarmed at this news. "This is the first I'm hearing of it. Does the head teacher know?"

"Not yet," I reply, walking towards the door. "But she will. Don't worry, we'll put it in writing and send the school a letter."

"Please, Jessica, don't be too hasty. Whatever you and your mother decide to do, you must make sure it is in Freddie's best interests."

Turning around, I look her dead in the eye. "That's exactly what I'm doing. Putting my brother first. I was on the fence about what to do, but you've just made the decision for me." Without another word, I leave the office and close the door behind me. I feel exhilarated. Well, at least that's one less thing to worry about, though how I'm going to explain my decision to Cynthia, I have no idea. Once more, it will need to be a discussion that is put on ice until her return from Germany.

The rest of the day passes quickly. When I get home, my mother's bedroom looks like a bomb hit it. There is an explosion of clothes everywhere as she does some last-minute packing for her trip this evening. She asks me how the meeting at the school went and I tell her it went okay, carefully adding that there was talk of sending Freddie to a specialist school, but I refuse to elaborate further. We'll talk about it when she gets back, I say. My mother shows a vague interest, but is so stressed about catching her flight, she appears to barely be listening, which to be honest suits me just fine. The less said the better.

After I collect Freddie from school at three, Erin comes around to our flat with her suitcases packed and the four of us enjoy a final farewell meal together of roast garlic and butternut squash risotto, followed by Arctic roll, all washed down with liberal helpings of Aqua Libra. It's a very emotional time as the three of us have never spent more than a week apart and this feels like a step into the unknown. All throughout dinner, I keep praying that this will not be the final time I ever see Cynthia. I want her to return from the trip to Frankfurt completely healed so that we can get on with the rest of our lives. All I can do is hope that my wish is granted.

Then around nine pm, a taxi arrives to take them to Heathrow airport. The flight is in the early hours of the morning, so they need to get a head start on the journey. Hurriedly, Freddie and I help my mother put her suitcases in the car boot, and then with tears in our eyes, say our final goodbyes.

"Are you definitely sure you'll be okay?" Cynthia whispers. "I feel so guilty leaving you guys all alone like this."

I wipe my wet face and force a smile. "Mum, I told you everything is going to be fine. Don't worry about us. I promise to phone you every day at the hotel to keep in touch, okay?"

"You'd better do or I'll be on the first flight home."

Laughing through our tears, we all share a group hug, then Erin and Mum get into the taxi, and I stand on the street corner waving them off, my chest tight with emotion. As sad as I feel, I know this is for the best. It's my mother's one shot at sorting this out once and for all.

That night, I sleep in Freddie's bed to help comfort him and it's the best rest I've had in ages. Gazing down at his sweet cherubic face as he sleeps, I swear never to allow any harm to come to him. God knows what the future holds, but whatever happens I will do everything in my power to keep my little brother safe and protected.

The next day, as we're having breakfast before school, the buzzer goes, and I answer the communal entry door to a delivery man holding a large cardboard box.

"I've got a parcel for F. Gardner," he smiles, putting the heavy item down on the mat. "I just need someone to sign for it."

"A delivery for me?" Freddie squeals, jumping up and down in his bare feet. "I've never had a delivery before. This is so exciting!"

It is indeed, but who is it from, I wonder?

Thoughtfully, I scribble down my signature and wrestle the hefty box into the kitchen.

"Open it! Open it! I want to see what it is."

"One second, Kiddo, I need a knife to cut the tape."

Moments later, the package is open and my jaw drops when I see inside is a brand-new Super Nintendo with so many games they can barely be contained. My brother shrieks with delight and instantly begins unpacking them. What a wonderful surprise, but who on earth sent it? It isn't Freddie's birthday, and I can't imagine who else might want to send him something like this. Unless of course by some miracle, his deadbeat dad Darren has finally decided to step up and actually acknowledge his child's existence.

"Wow, this is amazing," I beam. "Christmas has definitely come early. It looks as if someone has bought you every game in the Woolworths' Top40. I wonder who sent it? Is there a card or anything that came with it?"

Freddie rolls his eyes. "I already know who sent it, silly. It's from your secret boyfriend."

"What?"

"He came to my school the other day. He spoke to me through the fence at playtime and he was wearing a hood and this funny mask and I don't know why because I couldn't see his face and I'd like to see his face. He told me he was your secret boyfriend and said I shouldn't tell anyone because it's a secret."

My body stiffens. Alex came to Freddie's school? Oh my God.

"And then," my brothers continues excitedly, "your secret boyfriend asked me what I wanted most in the world and I told him a Super Nintendo just like my friend Ollie and now he's got me one isn't it brilliant? I like your secret boyfriend, Jess. He's much nicer than Jack. I didn't like Jack."

For a few seconds I'm struck dumb. This is getting out of control. I can't believe Alex went to see my brother in broad daylight. And he was wearing a mask? Jesus, this just gets crazier and crazier. Of course, the gifts he has bought for Freddie are lovely, but I just wish he had discussed it with me first. It feels like I'm being overwhelmed again.

Still, it was awfully sweet of Alex.

Then I remember something else. Today is the first day that we will be on our own since my mother's departure. Alex said he would come back to claim me as soon as she left. Does that mean he is coming for us tonight to take us back to Claremont Hall?

"Jess?"

"Yes, Freddie?"

"Why does your boyfriend wear a mask? Ollie says only superheroes wear masks. Is your secret boyfriend a superhero?"

"Um, yes, you could say that," I smile.

After I've dropped my brother at school, I pay a visit to Sloppy Joe's to hand in my notice. When I enter the place, I find it virtually empty. Typical Friday morning. Song2 by Blur plays softly in the background, suggesting Amina has taken control of the stereo again. Taking a deep breath, I walk towards the long serving counter where the girl in question is busy stacking plates and polishing cutlery. A broad grin sweeps across her face.

"Hiya, Jess, what are you doing in? You're not working today, are you?"

"No, I just came to sort out some stuff."

"I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."

"I'm fine," I mutter distractedly. "Is Brian in? I need to speak with him."

"Sorry, he isn't here. He went to Makro to stock up on supplies. He won't be back for an hour and has left me in charge, can you believe? It's nice that he trusts me enough not to burn the place down. So right now, it's just me and Katie." She dries her hands on a tea towel. "Why? What's up?"

Rummaging through my bag, I pull out a small white envelope and hand it to her. "When he gets back, please can you give him this?"

"What is it?"

"My letter of resignation."

"What, are you leaving us?" Amina looks genuinely disappointed. I notice her black liner is a little smudged, giving her the appearance of having a black eye, but her new nose stud more than makes up for it. "No fucking way! I loved working with you, Jess. Why the hell are you resigning?"

I shrug my shoulders. "It's just time to move on, that's all. For what it's worth, I'm going to miss working with you too, hun. But we'll keep in touch obviously. You have my number, so we can go for a drink sometime."

"Is it because of all that stuff that happened here on Monday night?"

"I guess you heard about that, then."

"Yeah, Brian told me all about it. And on that subject…" Amina's voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper. "I need to talk with you in private. I've got some juicy gossip to tell you." Discreetly, she jerks her head towards the kitchen, and I follow her to the back, my heart thumping wildly. I have a feeling I'm about to hear some news I'm not sure I'm going to like.

Once she's confident Katie is out of earshot, Amina resumes excitedly: "You won't believe this but something crazy went down on Monday night after those tossers left here. All I'll say is, karma is a bitch."

"Why, what happened?" I ask, feeling slightly nauseous. For a second, images from the dark alley flash up in my mind again. Writhing tentacles. A severed finger on the pavement. The deep gushing wound in Jack's crotch area where his penis used to be…

No, it's just too terrible to think about.

"Apparently, they were attacked just around the corner from here," she continues. "After they left Sloppy Joe's, Jack Parker and four of his mates got jumped by some gang and had the living crap beaten out of them. And when I say beaten up, I'm talking seriously fucked up, here. I'm talking Scarface level shit, ‘say hello to my little friend' and then some."

I swallow hard and lick my lips. "Wow, that's mad. Are they…are they okay? I mean, they're going to live though, right?"

"How should I know? Apparently, it's touch and go with some of them because they've had some serious injuries inflicted on them."

"Do you know what sort of injuries?"

"You really want all the gory details?"

"Well, no," I stammer. "I guess I was just wondering…"

"I don't know all the ins and outs, but my sources hint that it was something seriously fucked up. Like…" She pulls me in close and hisses in my ear: "They had their willies cut off."

My mouth gapes in horror. "No way!"

"Yes, way. See, I told you it was fucked up. Hey, but don't go telling anyone about it, as it could just be a rumour, but if it is true, how sick is that? Guess that's what happens when you mix yourself up in a turf war.

"Turf war? Do the police think that's what it was about?"

"Definitely got to be gang-related," Amina says with conviction, picking lint off her sleeve. "Although to be fair, I never had Jack pegged as the type of boy to get mixed up in that sort of thing, but I guess you never can tell with anyone, can you? And one of the guys that was with him, someone called Taser, has definite links to some gangs in Peckham so it's sort of obvious that's what this was about."

Grotesque memories from Monday night return once more to haunt me. Hot bile rises in my throat and this time, I really am going to be sick. Bolting out the kitchen, I race into the ladies and throw open one of the cubicles just in time to vomit down the toilet bowl. A minute later, Amina appears in the doorway, her voice laced with concern.

"Geez, are you okay? Was this because of my colourful language?"

"No, it must be something I ate," I gasp, wiping fluid from my mouth. "I'm all right now. I've got it all out of my system." Slowly, I get to my feet and stagger over to the basins to wash up.

Amina places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Are you definitely sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I-I'm fine."

"Who knows, maybe you're pregnant," she laughs.

Very funny. How could I be…

Wait. Now that I come to think about it, my breasts have been feeling rather sore lately. And every now and then I've been getting these weird stomach cramps, but I put it down to an upset stomach. No, there's no way I could be pregnant. How could I be? I'm on the pill. Then I remember a couple of times over the past few weeks, I haven't kept to taking my tablet at the same time every day, one of the conditions to ensure its effectiveness. Stupid, I know. There's just been so much going on in my life, keeping to my schedule has not always been my top priority. Dear God, could I really be pregnant with Alex's baby? It certainly seems plausible given that we've been having lots of sex and never once used protection.

In a daze, I leave Sloppy Joe's wracked with anxiety. Now that Amina has planted the seed of doubt, I simply have to know. I need to find out if it's true that I'm pregnant. Hastily, I rush to a pharmacy and pick up a home pregnancy test. I've never bought one before, and have no idea how to use it, but the box claims to be able to tell you within five minutes. Gosh, just five minutes is all it takes to find out if your life will be changed forever.

Tossing the box in my bag, I continue running my errands around town, deciding not to take the test until later this evening in the privacy of my own home. That's what I tell myself, anyway. The reality is, I'm putting it off because I just can't deal with it right now. I'm too scared to find out what the truth is because of the potential earthshattering implications.

Alex is part demon. If we had a baby together, what would that mean? Would the child be half human, half demon with tentacles coming out of its back? Would it have special powers? The never-ending possibilities are too much for me to handle and I try not to think about it or else I'll go crazy.

At three o'clock, I pick Freddie up from school and take him to have an ice cream in McDonald's. From there, we go to the park and play on the swings. It's bitingly cold weather, but I don't care. I need to be outside in the fresh air to help keep my head clear.

We spend an hour or so fooling around, and then we go home, and I make us both some pasta, my signature dish as my culinary skills are not as advanced as Cynthia's. Then we play Super Mario World on the Nintendo, and we'd be having the best time ever, if it wasn't for the constant sick feeling in my stomach. I'm really suffering here. Finally, at around eight-thirty, I sneak off to the bathroom, leaving Freddie engrossed in the shenanigans of the world's two most famous plumbers.

On tenterhooks, I sit on the floor and take the pregnancy test out of my bag and read the instructions closely. Then I read them again to make absolutely sure I've understood what I'm supposed to do. When I'm satisfied that I know what I'm doing, I carefully unwrap the plastic sheath and begin to psych myself up. Okay, here goes nothing…

Suddenly, somebody rings the doorbell and I almost jump out of my skin with fright. Oh my gosh, could that be Alex? With trembling fingers, I drop the test on the floor and quickly pull up my tights and knickers. That will have to wait.

"Jess! Someone is at the door!" Freddie shouts, stomping through the hallway excitedly. "Should I go and answer it?"

"No, wait! Stay where you are. I'll do it."

Hesitantly, I approach the glass spyhole and peer through to see who's out there. Strange. I can't see anyone. The communal hall appears to be completely empty. But someone must be out there. Heart pounding, I begin taking off the chain and nervously turn the lock to open the door.

"Stand behind me, Freddie," I whisper fiercely. "Let's see who it is…"

Jesus, what will happen when my brother first sees Alex? What will his reaction be? Will Alex be wearing a mask like he did when he came down to the school, or will Freddie be faced with the full force of my boyfriend's demonic countenance? I know from experience that the first time is likely to be a big shock and I brace myself in preparation.

Slowly, the door creaks open on its hinges and then…

"Mrs Biederhof!" I release an enormous sigh of relief. "What a surprise."

"Hello, Jessica, I hope I'm not intruding?" The old woman grins, showing a row of crooked teeth. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"Um, no, of course not."

"Only, I promised Cynthia I'd come to check in on you both from time to time while she's away to make sure you're okay."

"We're fine," I say quickly. "We just finished having dinner and my brother will be getting ready for bed soon, so yeah, everything is great. It's so nice of you to check in on us like this, but honestly, we're fine."

"I'm going back to play Mario World," Freddie pouts, and darts to his bedroom. That should have been her cue to go, but sadly, our unwanted visitor continues to linger on the doorstep.

"Well, like I said, it was nice of you to call by," I say, starting to close the door.

"Do you mind if I come in for a bit? I've brought you both some little gifts."

"How lovely of you. Sure, no problem." Gritting my teeth, I step aside for her to enter. Great. Alex could arrive at any minute, and I've now got to entertain the world's nosiest neighbour.

Cheers, Mum.

Reluctantly, I take Mrs Biederhof into the living room and watch her milky blue eyes scrutinise everything in meticulous detail: the paint spattered easel, the lack of curtains in the windows, piles of boxes scattered around in a formation of organised chaos. I can only imagine what the old busybody is thinking. Probably wondering why we have so little furniture. I mean, we don't even have a proper dining table. As usual, she's dressed like she's going to church in a navy-blue skirt suit, pale pink cardigan and lacy white gloves. Her thick grey hair is perfectly coiffed as always.

For a few seconds we stand in awkward silence, not knowing what to say to each other.

"Just the two of you here tonight, then? Just you and your brother, Freddie?"

"Yes," I reply. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Just making conversation." She hesitates, then she adds dryly, "Your brother is up rather late, isn't he? When I had my children living with me, they were always in bed by seven, never fail."

"Yeah, I know he stays up late. That's something we're still working on, but I'm sure we'll get there eventually. It just takes time."

"What kids need is a proper bedtime routine. Bath, book, and bed. Always works a treat."

"Thanks, I'll remember that." I rub the back of my neck in exasperation. "So, you said you brought us some gifts?" I say, hoping to steer the conversation to more tranquil waters.

"Yes, thanks for reminding me." Reaching inside a plastic carrier bag, she produces some packets of biscuits. "I got you and Freddie a big bottle of Lucozade too. There are also some brandy snaps in there that my niece gave to me last Christmas. Unfortunately, they give me terrible gas, but you and Freddie might like them."

"How thoughtful of you. These all look great, thank you."

"I also brought you this, Jessica." Smiling, she produces a small velvet pouch and takes out a pretty silver crucifix. Gently, she places it in the palm of my hand and closes my fingers over it. "This is especially for you, my dear. I hope that you'll wear it."

"Oh, thanks. It's lovely." What an odd present. I hardly know her, yet this seems surprisingly sentimental. Also, I'm not particularly religious.

There is another moment of loaded silence.

"Are you still seeing that young man?"

"Come again?"

"The young man I saw you climbing out of your window with last Saturday."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't climb out of—"

"Oh, please," Mrs Biederhof scoffs. "I might be old but I'm not blind. Just answer the question. Are you still seeing him?"

"Yes," I admit lightly. "Why, what has it got to do with you?"

"I'm just looking out for your welfare, my dear." The old woman pauses, picking words. "It's just that I've seen him around here a few times parked in that black car of his. He doesn't like to show his face, does he?"

I make no response. Dammit, I don't really know what to say to that and find her level of directness deeply unsettling. I had no idea she knew so much about us.

"The thing is," she continues. "I always get such a strange vibe from him. It's like I can almost sense when he's around, and you know it's weird, on two occasions when I saw him, right afterwards, my electricity just cut out. Isn't that strange?"

"I'm not sure I understand. What are you trying to say?"

"I'm just telling you to be careful, that's all, and wear your crucifix. There's something about that young man that isn't right, I'm certain of it. Darkness follows him around like a shadow and I feel…I feel there's something abnormal about him, though I can't exactly say what. I don't know if your mother ever told you, but I'm an esoteric healer which means I'm highly sensitive to disturbances. And that young man of yours disturbs me more than anyone I've ever met. Please, please, take care."

I shift my weight awkwardly. I don't want to hear any of this and need her to leave right now. "Listen, I really should be putting Freddie to bed. You know, ‘bath, book and bed?' Thanks again for the presents, Mrs Biederhof, this crucifix is lovely, and the brandy snaps will be gone by tomorrow. I'd love to spend more time talking, but it's getting late, so I'd better see you out."

She doesn't say anything; just shakes her head like I'm a lost cause. Gently, but firmly, I usher her out the living room towards the front door, but before I can close it, she reaches out and clutches my hand again.

"May God be with you," she whispers. Then she's gone.

For a couple of heartbeats, I stand with my back against the door and release a long, slow, breath. Wow, that was intense. I honestly don't know how much more of this I can take. It's just one thing after another. That conversation with her has really creeped me out and I can't help wondering if this is another omen of things to come. I always knew Mrs Biederhof was a little ‘out there' but an esoteric healer? What even is that? And what is she insinuating? That Alex is evil and could be a danger to me? How many times have I heard that before?

It's Beatrix Kingswood all over again and despite knowing deep down that their warnings are probably well intentioned, I simply don't want to hear it. I know what my boyfriend is. I know about the shrouds of malevolent darkness that surround him, but I don't need rescuing. He's a demon, a creature from another world, and I don't care. I still want to be with him. Nobody makes me feel the way he does. Nobody fucks me the way he does. No, I must do as my nature dictates and no matter what they say, I cannot, will not be without him.

After a while, I drift into the kitchen and switch on the kettle to make a cup of camomile tea to help calm my nerves. Then I remember the pregnancy test and my whole world caves again. Prickling with nervous tension, I return to the bathroom to finish what I started, my limbs heavy with a dark sense of foreboding. Picking the plastic device up from the floor, I remove the cap and take it over to the toilet to urinate on. After I finish doing the deed, I replace the cap and put the test on the windowsill to ensure it remains horizontal as advised in the instruction leaflet. I now must wait five minutes to learn my fate. Folding my arms protectively across my chest, I pace up and down the bathroom in a mild frenzy. Every couple of seconds, I keep checking my watch for the time.

I run my fingers down my face. Oh my God, the suspense is excruciating. What the hell am I going to do if the test is positive? What then? I love Alex but the thought of having his baby scares me to death. It would be such a journey into the unknown, how would I ever cope?

At last, the five minutes is up. I walk over to the windowsill. My head throbs. The room starts to weave and spin. With shaking hands, I lift up the pregnancy test to check and see what colour band appears. For what seems forever, I hold the test in mid-air, prolonging the moment far longer than is necessary. Finally, I look down to see what the result shows. I cover my mouth to stifle a sob.

Suddenly, there are three loud knocks on the front door. Eerie hollow sounds that echo throughout the entire flat…followed by a ghostly silence.

I don't need three guesses to know who it is.

"Jess!" Freddie shouts. "There's someone at the door again. Should I open it?"

This time I make no response. I'm too shocked to speak.