First Born(2)

In the other corner of my room is a fireproof safe. In there I store my unused passport and my unused driving licence and my unused credit cards. I keep my documents up to date in case I need them for ID, or in case there’s a war and I need to flee. Ordinarily, I have no interest in international travel, even with all the insurance in the world. I will not drive because according to the Office for National Statistics driving is the second most dangerous everyday travel activity after motorcycling.

I’m curious to check my phone’s battery status but I will not be tempted to touch the screen. Never touch a phone that is being charged from a mains socket unless it’s to disconnect the plug. Never take that unnecessary risk. I read somewhere online that to touch a connecting phone that is charging increases the already heightened electrocution risk by up to three per cent. The charger will need to be replaced next week, it’s already a month old; the wires inside will be degrading.

My sister wouldn’t think twice about it. She’s so spontaneous and carefree that she manages to live life for the both of us. Has done since we were young girls. These days she’s so addicted to her phone, her likes and retweets. She told me last year she once took it with her into her bathroom using a fifteen-feet-long electrical extension cable. I could hardly breathe when she said that. And this was in New York City, half a world away, and I told her, I said ‘KT you must swear never to do that again. You must swear it to me.’

She did swear.



I’m sitting on the bed, putting on hand cream, when my phone rings.

It vibrates, and the vibrations make it slither slowly across my bedside table.

I check the screen. A number I don’t recognise.

A siren rings out in the distance but I can’t see flashing lights through my window. The noise grows. It intensifies and then I notice the police car speed by.

The phone vibrates in my hand.

I take a deep breath and then I accept the call. ‘Molly Raven speaking.’

There’s silence on the line, and then the sound of someone sniffing.

‘Who is this?’

‘Oh, Molly. It’s . . .’

‘Mum? What’s wrong?’ Mum never cries. She is a composed person. Methodical and calm.

‘Molly, it’s . . .’ And then the sound of a cry.

My stomach pulls tight in my abdomen. ‘Mum, what is it? Are you safe? Talk to me.’

But now it’s Dad’s voice on the phone. Soothing. His usual kind and patient tone. ‘Your mum, she’s . . .’

‘Dad, you’re scaring me.’

‘Moll, I don’t know how to tell you this.’ He pauses. ‘Oh, God. It’s . . . it’s your sister. I’m so sorry.’

I hear Mum sobbing in the background and my body turns to stone.

‘She’s gone, Moll.’





Chapter 2


‘What do you mean, she’s gone?’

There’s a pause on the line. My head knows what he’s saying but my body and my soul are failing me.

‘I’m . . .’ says Dad, his voice small. Trembling. ‘I’m so sorry, Moll.’

‘Where has KT gone? Dad, please. Is she missing in New York?’

There’s a longer pause. The sound of Mum crying in the background.

‘She’s dead, Molly. She’s gone.’

My blood coagulates in my veins. Even though I knew what he meant, the words are too much. I sit on the bed.

‘We want you to come right here if you can. I know it’s really difficult for you to travel, but . . .’

‘How?’ I say. ‘I don’t understand, Dad. It’s a mistake. How is she gone?’

I hear him swallow. ‘The police don’t know for sure yet. We found her in her apartment. She looked so peaceful, Moll.’

My mother screams.

‘Are you sure it was her, though? One hundred per cent certain?’

‘Yes, Moll, I’m sure. Katie is gone.’ He sniffs again. ‘The police here are investigating. Your mother and me, we want you here in New York with us. We need to be together.’

I look at my reflection in the window and my head is shaking by itself, willing all this away.

‘Are you OK, Molly? Is there anyone you can be with until you fly over here?’

There is nobody. ‘Fly over there? Dad, I . . .’ I can hear sirens from outside their Manhattan hotel room. Pulsing sirens. ‘What is that?’

‘Fire truck,’ says Dad. ‘It’s nothing. What did you want to say?’

‘I’ll come,’ I say. ‘Of course I’ll come. Is there a fast ship to New York?’

He says, ‘No, sweetie,’ in the soothing tone he’s used ever since I was a young girl. ‘We’ve checked. But the plane is safe. It’s completely safe.’

I swallow audibly. ‘I know it is,’ I say. ‘Statistically. I know it.’ One in a million. Less than one in a million. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll do it somehow. I . . .’

‘You have your breathing exercises, Molly. You’ll be OK.’

‘It’s just . . .’

‘What is it?’

‘I always thought I’d know, you know? I always thought if this ever happened I’d feel it somehow. Sense it.’