Free The Testament of Jessie Lamb by Jane Rogers

she was striding along fast, and muffled distant music and voices. I guessed it had gone on accidentally. It was half past one, so I tried to go back to sleep. But ten minutes later I was still wide awake. I didn’t know what she was doing. Something with Damien, obviously–I guessed she had gone out drinking with him and his mates. She was probably really bored. I decided to ring her back. She didn’t answer the first time, so I tried again a few minutes later. Her phone does 8 rings before it goes to answer, but she got it on the eighth. ‘Sal, it’s me.’
    Now it was so quiet at the other end that I could hear her breathing. It was like she was gasping for air.
    â€˜Sal? You alright?’ Then I realised she was crying. ‘Where are you?’
    Her voice was croaky. ‘Can you come round? I’m at home.’
    I knew it was bad. Sal doesn’t cry. I dressed, let myself out as quietly as I could, and ran down the empty street to her house. The hall light was on, and she let me in as I got to the door, and slammed and locked it quickly after me. She was all wet. She had her dressing gown on but she was dripping wet and shivering. Her face was a mess, not just from smeared mascara; her bottom lip was bleeding, and there was a reddish-purple mark across one cheek. I went into their sitting room to get the shawl off the back of the sofa. The room was trashed. Cans and ashtrays and takeaways, furniture all anywhere, spilt drinks on the carpet. It smelt awful. I found the shawl and wrapped it round her. I realised I could hear Sammy whining and whining from the kitchen, and I let him out. He ran to Sal but she pushed him away. ‘Where’s your mum? Sal?’
    She shook her head.
    â€˜Was it Damien?’
    â€˜His mates,’ she whispered.
    â€˜His mates? Here?’
    She nodded.
    â€˜Shall I call the police?’
    â€˜No.’ She gasped for breath again. ‘They raped me.’
    â€˜They…’
    â€˜Three of them. The. The others watched.’
    â€˜Why are you so wet?’ Stupid question but it’s all I could say.
    â€˜I got in the bath–’ She began to cry again.
    â€˜Shall we go upstairs?’ I said. ‘Shall I help you Sal?’ We struggled up to the bathroom. I let out the cloudy water and ran more hot, and squirted bubble bath in it. It was lavender scented. If I smell lavender now it makes me feel sick all over again. I made sure it wasn’t too hot, and helped her take off her dressing gown and step in. She was slow squatting down into the water, I could see it hurt her to move. There were marks on her shoulders like dirty handprints. ‘I should get a doctor. The police. We should–’
    Sal shook her head.
    â€˜But–’
    â€˜I don’t want anyone to know, OK?’ Her voice had come back, suddenly. She sounded tough again and I was so relieved I finally started to cry myself.
    â€˜Shall I bathe you?’
    â€˜I’m OK.’ She got the flannel and scrubbed herself all over, then lay down in the water so it covered her, face and hair and all. After a moment she got out abruptly and stood under the shower and washed herself all over again. I let out the bath water, and got her a clean towel. We went in her bedroom. She put on pyjamas and I got into bed beside her in my clothes.
    She told me what had happened. Damien had begged her to go out with him and his mates and she agreed. They went drinking till late then got takeaways, and Damien asked if they could bring them back to her house. He knew her mum was away. She said OK because she was fed up and she wanted to go to bed by then, she thought they’d just eat their takeaways and go home. They were making jokes about sex, one of them rubbed himself against another’s arse and they all acted as if it was hilarious. Damien hardly spoke to her, she said, all he was interested in was being one of the lads. She told him she was going