How I Saved the World in a Week Read online

  I can’t help but feel unsettled by the weather changing so rapidly. Sylvia always looked to the skies for markers. Her moods would be especially charged if there were any sudden changes in the weather.

  By the time we get to the park, it’s already full of families basking in the sunshine. We find a quiet spot a little away from everyone else, where we can see the city in the distance.

  Bristol looks so different to London, the only place I have lived before. It’s nowhere near the same size for starters: the buildings aren’t as tall and there aren’t as many people living here either. Though I thought I would never get used to it, there are some things, like meeting Anwar, that make living here not so bad.

  ‘So what’s going on?’ Anwar asks me. ‘Why were you being weird when you first came round?’

  ‘Just – Steve…’ I’m not sure where to begin. ‘He told me yesterday that he had a girlfriend and today she came round with her daughter, Angharad. And I sort of ended up shouting at her.’

  ‘Steve’s girlfriend?’

  ‘No. Angharad. Steve and Julie – that’s his girlfriend – made us hang out and then Angharad picked up my mum’s old book. I sort of overreacted because I’m trying to keep it hidden. I told her to get out.’ I correct myself. ‘Well, I shouted at her to get out.’

  Anwar just nods his head gently and I know he understands why I behaved like I did.

  ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Kind of… fierce. She got really cross with me when I yelled at her. I don’t think we’re going to be friends anytime soon.’

  ‘It’ll be okay, you know. You could just say that you’re sorry and you’re, you know, missing your mum…’ he says quietly.

  I hear myself sigh or take a breath or something in between the two. I feel like a fire that’s been doused, like I’m just the ashes, crumbling to nothing. Thinking about Sylvia makes me feel like I’m slowly falling apart, spilling away. I pull the book out from my waistband and press the cover down a bit from where it got crumpled when I had to hide it. I open the cover and trace my fingers over Sylvia’s loopy handwriting where she wrote her name.

  ‘So this is it?’ Anwar asks.

  ‘Yes.’ I pause for just a tiny moment but then I pass it over for him to look at. Anwar handles it carefully as though he understands without me having to say a word how precious it is to me.

  ‘ “It might be difficult to overcome certain hazards,” ’ he reads aloud from the back cover, ‘ “but if you have read this book then your chances are much greater.” ’

  ‘Teach me something,’ he says. ‘From the book.’

  ‘Here?’ I’ve been hiding my survival skills training for so long, I can’t shake the feeling that I need to keep it secret.

  Anwar nods. ‘Why not?’

  I look around me. ‘We need something shiny and reflective – like a mirror. A pen or a pencil and a bit of string.’

  Anwar digs around in his yellow backpack and pulls out a half-eaten pack of Fruit Pastilles, a leaking pen, a shrivelled conker, an empty box of matches and lastly a small compact of face powder which he hands to me.

  ‘Why have you got this?’

  ‘I was using the powder to look at fingerprints,’ Anwar says as if that makes perfect sense.

  ‘Okay, well this will work.’ I open the compact to inspect the mirror inside.

  ‘We could use a shoelace for the string,’ I say, remembering the time that Sylvia used my lace for the firebow. I turn to the page which shows you how to use it with the heliograph.

  Fig. 7. – How to use a heliograph (Part II)

  I had forgotten how much fun practising could be, but Anwar and I spend ages trying out the pencil-and-string technique until we’ve got it perfected. It’s not the same as being with Sylvia, but it’s something.

  When at last we part and I walk slowly back home, I see his mirror flashing at me from all the way across the park.

  I can’t help but smile as I see it. Somehow it makes going home and facing Steve seem a little easier.

  HOW TO AVOID TALKING TO YOUR DAD (WHEN YOU KNOW HE WANTS TO TELL YOU OFF)

  Steve and I trail down the ready-meal aisle.

  I push the trolley and stop every now and again each time Steve leaps off to grab something from the shelves.

  He wants to talk about yesterday. I know that from the way he keeps looking at me, like he wants to say something but is stopping himself. We haven’t spoken about me shouting at Angharad at all. When I got back from the park, Julie and Angharad had gone and Steve told me that I’d better go up to my room and think it all over.

  We’d eaten dinner in near silence and when we finished, without Steve having to tell me, I went back upstairs. I’d sat in my steadily darkening room, staring out of the window.

  There weren’t many people about, just a couple strolling hand in hand and someone walking their dog. Then, behind the dog walker, a few spaces away, I spotted a figure I recognized. It was because of the stagger. The same as before, throwing their whole body into each step. It was the man who’d fallen and was taken away in the ambulance. Only I realized then, that I hadn’t actually seen him being driven away, I’d just seen the ambulance arrive and that was when Angharad had spotted my mum’s book.

  I stood up by the window to look closer and the more I studied him, the surer I was it was the same person. His face, though shaded beneath a cap, had the same greyish tinge.

  He was just about to catch up with the dog walker when the dog, a white and brown terrier, darted round to face him. Even from my window and in the fading light, I could see the dog baring its teeth and then I heard it start yapping and barking so forcefully it was almost impossible to believe that the sound was coming from such a small dog.

  The owner started to pull the dog away and shouted at him to be quiet, but nothing would stop it; its eyes remained fixed upon the grey man and it continued to bark as loudly as ever. The dog had to be dragged away. Its short legs danced backwards as its yelps continued to pierce the quiet of the evening even after they had turned the corner.

  Just then I heard Steve climbing the stairs with heavy thuds and, thinking that he was coming to speak to me about the day, I quickly flung myself under my duvet and pretended to be asleep. It was too early to go to bed really, but I’d learned that Steve never wakes me when I’m sleeping. Sure enough, he opened my bedroom door with a creak and for a few moments, I could hear him breathing at the doorway. Then he walked across to the window, drew the curtains closed and walked out. When I heard his steps going down the stairs, I sat upright and looked out of the window again. But there was no trace of the man; he was nowhere to be seen.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about him this morning. I wondered what had happened and if he was okay after falling so badly and why he was not in hospital. There was no one to talk to about it though because it was just Steve and me. And if we started talking, he would want to speak about what went wrong with Julie and Angharad, so I kept quiet.

  He’s wanted to say something to me since breakfast but I’ve just managed to duck away each time. Now we are in the supermarket and he looks like he might burst if he doesn’t say something soon. His fingers drum and fidget on the side of the trolley and he keeps looking over at me. But eventually he just says: ‘Do you want burgers for dinner?’

  ‘Yes please,’ I reply.

  We are being very polite with each other; it makes everything we say sound stiff and hollow.

  Steve looks at the burgers on the shelf. There’s a two-pack but there’s also a family pack that has four burgers in it. He hesitates for a moment and then reaches for the two-pack.

  ‘Billy,’ he says as he places the burgers into the trolley. I can tell from the tone of his voice that the moment has come – he is finally going to tell me off and ask what I was thinking: what happened, why did I shout at Angharad like that? I can already hear the words before he has spoken them. Worry twists and writhes inside me.

  ‘We need to talk
about what—’

  ‘I’ll get the burger buns!’ I say quickly, cutting him off and running away down the aisle.

  I tuck away around the maze of the supermarket. There’s a crowd of people by the newspaper stand and I have to go around them because they’re blocking my path. I turn down another aisle and then another. I look behind me: although I know that Steve is not following me, I want to make sure. I want to be alone.

  For a few moments, hiding among the long loaves of French sticks and boxes of plasticky-looking cakes, I have to remind myself to breathe slowly: In and out, in and out.

  My chest feels tight, like someone is squeezing my heart. I’ve had the feeling before and the only thing I can do is breathe and wait for it to pass.

  I had the feeling when I was parted from Sylvia.

  I had the feeling when Steve told me that all the ‘survival stuff’ was in her head.

  I know I have to think of another reason why I would have shouted at Angharad, so I can keep Sylvia’s book secret and safe, but I just don’t know what it is yet. All I know is that I can’t let Steve know the truth.

  When I feel the tightness begin to uncoil, I start to make my way back to Steve. I still haven’t worked out what I will say but then I remember what Anwar said to say – I will say I’m sorry and that I’m missing Sylvia. Neither of those things is untrue.

  I squeeze past the people by the newspapers again. There’s an old woman who sees me coming and steps to the side, gesturing to the papers. ‘What’s the world coming to, eh?’

  I glance over at the papers and I see him straightaway.

  Amongst the screaming headlines about presidents and extreme weather, there’s a blurry photo on one of the local newspapers.

  It’s the man I saw fall. Only this time, he’s running away.

  * * *

  There isn’t much to the piece because no one knew that many details and it also seemed like no one could really believe it actually happened. The article’s headed:

  Back from the Dead

  Search for local man continues

  Some parts of the story I know because I’d seen it happen – the man falling in the street and the ambulance coming – but there are other bits that I don’t know. Like the fact the man was dead when the ambulance arrived, even though no one knew what had caused it.

  An eyewitness they spoke to backed up just what I saw: ‘One minute he was walking down the street, he was sort of shuffling along, but the next he just fell over in a heap.’

  It didn’t make sense that this was headline news, until I read on:

  Paramedics who were called to the scene reported that they pronounced the man dead on arrival, but just moments later the man jumped back up and fled the scene.

  ‘He sprang back to life,’ an onlooker confirmed. ‘Someone tried to follow him but he was too fast, too strong, to be stopped.’

  Police and medical services are asking for anyone with any information on the man in question to come forward, so they can check on his wellbeing.

  Alongside the article was a picture that someone must have taken on their phone camera as the man ran off. But it wasn’t very clear and he just looked like a greyish blur.

  I take a copy of the paper as I go back over to Steve who is looking around a little impatiently by the tills.

  He looks at me and the paper in my hand quizzically.

  ‘Where’s the burger buns?’ he asks.

  ‘Sorry – I got distracted. I’ll go get them now.’

  ‘Hang on a sec, Billy. I’ve been thinking about yesterday… I don’t know why you shouted at Angharad. Frankly, I’m not interested in why, because it wasn’t okay for you to treat her like that whatever the reason. You need to say sorry to her. I’ve asked Julie if they will come round for dinner tonight and so you can apologize to her face to face. Okay?’

  I look in the trolley and see that Steve has replaced the packet with two burgers for one with four.

  Though I do want to say sorry to Angharad and I’m glad that Steve’s not trying to make me tell him why I yelled, I also feel small and hot when I hear they are coming over again. But I manage to nod and I go back towards the bakery aisle.

  ‘Get enough for four of us!’ Steve calls out from behind me.

  HOW TO SAY SORRY

  As Julie and Angharad arrive, Steve’s emptying frozen chips on to an oven tray. They clatter as they fall, glinting cuboids that don’t even look like food.

  ‘You answer the door, Billy,’ he tells me. ‘Go on.’

  When Angharad sees me she glowers but Julie greets me with a smile as though nothing has happened.

  ‘Hello, Billy,’ she says brightly. ‘Us again!’

  ‘Oh… yes,’ I stutter and step back to let them in. ‘Steve’s in the kitchen cooking dinner.’

  ‘I’ll go through, shall I?’ Julie says. ‘Give you two a chance to talk.’ She urges Angharad and me towards the living room as she heads to the kitchen. Angharad starts to pace around the living room, like she’s looking for a way to escape.

  I take a deep breath.

  ‘Sorry I shouted at you,’ I say quickly, all in a rush.

  Angharad ignores me and moves the empty packet of crisps on the seat of the sofa to the coffee table and then slouches down on to the sofa.

  ‘I… umm…’ I know I can’t really explain why I acted the way I did. She might tell her mum who might tell Steve. And so I just say I’m sorry again without looking her in the eyes.

  ‘It’s easy to say sorry,’ she mutters.

  ‘Well, I mean it,’ I say.

  She doesn’t reply but I see her looking at something just past me on the ground. It’s the newspapers that Steve had shoved in a pile to be recycled when he was clearing up. Somehow he must have mixed up the old and new ones because the local paper I bought in the supermarket today is on the top – the headline about the grey man shouts out from its front page.

  I pick up the paper and hold it up, trying to change the subject.

  ‘Remember that man from yesterday? The one who fell over and the ambulance came for? This is about him. It says that the paramedics thought he was dead but then he jumped up again and ran away.’

  ‘What?’ Angharad says. Despite yesterday, despite her not wanting to be here, she can’t hide her interest. ‘Really?’ She points to the greying blurry face in the photo.

  I nod.

  ‘He came back to life?’

  ‘Apparently. And no one can find him. They don’t know where or who he is, but the thing is that I’m sure I saw him again last night. Walking up the hill.’

  ‘Are you sure it was him?’

  ‘I think so – he doesn’t look like most people and he walks in this weird way.’

  Angharad looks up at me and for a moment I can see that she’s confused. One minute, we’re not talking and she thinks she might hate me and the next, we’re just having a normal conversation like we’re friends or something. ‘Don’t shout at me again, okay?’ she says in the end.

  ‘I won’t,’ I say.

  ‘I mean it,’ she says. I think if she were able to growl then she would.

  ‘I promise,’ I say.

  ‘Well, let’s just see how much you mean your promises. Because if you shout at me again, I just won’t speak to you again. Simple as that. So whatever is going on with you and your mum and dad or whatever, remember if you treat me like that again, I just won’t speak to you. And I keep my word. Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ I say.

  ‘Okay,’ she says. She looks vaguely amused that I’m agreeing with her. ‘I mean it. No second chances.’

  ‘No second chances,’ I repeat.

  ‘All right then. As long as we’re in agreement.’

  We nod at each other.

  ‘Why did you?’ she asks me.

  ‘Why did I shout?’

  She nods.

  ‘Because… because…’ I pause, not sure if I can trust her. ‘Well because you were about to pick something up that
I’m trying to hide from Steve and I wanted to stop you.’

  She rolls her eyes. ‘Oh. Well, you could have just said that. I’ve got lots of stuff that I keep hidden from my mum.’

  ‘Yes – that might have been a better idea,’ I say.

  ‘Billy,’ she says, looking at me like I’m possibly the most stupid person she’s ever met, ‘that definitely would have been a better idea.’

  * * *

  Dinner’s not quite as bad as lunch was yesterday. Julie and Steve still do most of the talking but after we’ve eaten, I start to clear away the plates and Angharad offers to help me. Julie raises her eyebrows at Steve but doesn’t comment on it. They say that they are going to look in the garden because Julie’s going to help us plant some things.

  Angharad scrapes the food we didn’t eat into the compost bin and I load the dishwasher.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that fallen man,’ she says as she closes the lid of the bin with a thump. ‘If you saw him again last night, he can’t have gone very far away, can he? He’s probably still close by. You should tell the police that you saw him or… or…’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘Or we could try and find him,’ she suggests. She tucks a braid behind her ear and I see curiosity in her eyes, like a small flame. ‘The police probably won’t believe you – or they’ll have more important things to do. But the man must be close by, right?’

  ‘I don’t know. And, even if he is, if no one else can find him, why would we?’

  ‘Well, you know what he looks like for one thing. And you’ve seen him more than once. You’ve got insider knowledge. Both times were out of your bedroom window, right?’

  ‘Yes, always on the same bit of the hill.’

  ‘Well, we could keep watch. He might come back again and this time we could follow him.’

  ‘Follow him?’ I’m surprised at how much she’s clearly thought about this over dinner.

  ‘Yes,’ Angharad says. She pulls at a braid that’s threaded through with purple and loops it round and round her finger until it becomes coiled, like a length of rope. ‘If we can see where he goes, we can call the police or ambulance or something when we know where he lives. Don’t you want to know what happened to him? How he supposedly came back to life?’