‘I did it, Flora. I did it, and it works! Imagine that! Karen said you can do it with any worries. You know, if you’re scared in the night, or you think something bad is going to happen, you just push it all into the balloon, in your head, all those horrible thoughts, just shove them in, and watch them float away. And then you feel better. I’m going to tell Millie and Sienna how to do it, because they get scared too sometimes.’
I’d pulled her close then, burying my face in her soft brown curls, inhaling the clean scent of her, filled with relief. Nell was going to be OK.
I could see the house now, the bright blue door, the grey-painted railings, the bay tree in its tall pot by the gate. A space outside, where Thea’s car had been, the day I found Zander limp and hot and dead in his car seat inside it. I walked the final few steps, took a deep, slightly shaky breath, and rang the bell.
24
THEA
TICK. TICK. TICK.
I was sitting in the dining room at the front of the house, laptop open in front of me, trying to work, but the clock in the hall was distracting me. It seemed so … so LOUD tonight, ticking its way into my brain, insisting on being heard. And what sort of clock goes tick, tick, tick anyway? Where was the tock? Clocks were supposed to go ‘tick TOCK’, weren’t they? Why had I never noticed that before? I had a disabled clock. Oh, this was ridiculous. I was obsessing about a clock now, instead of trying to keep my business on track, or trying to keep myself out of prison.
I pushed the laptop aside and stood up, paced restlessly around the room a few times and then decided tea might help. It was too quiet here tonight, without Nell, I thought, as I made my way to the kitchen. That had been my choice, though. Rupert wasn’t due to have her until Wednesday, but I’d asked if she could stay another night this week. I had yet another solicitors’ meeting tomorrow, and I needed time to organize my thoughts, I’d told him.
That was true, more or less anyway. I needed to think, but I was also feeling increasingly unstable, increasingly scared. The memories, real or otherwise, of the day Zander died, were becoming so vivid, so clear now, that they were making me feel unbalanced, terrified that I was spiralling into some sort of madness. I hadn’t mentioned them to anyone apart from Flora, not yet, still hadn’t made a new doctor’s appointment either, but I knew I probably should. I should probably be on some sort of medication too, and yet I didn’t want that, for I knew that pills would cloud my mind, and now, more than ever before, I needed to stay away from drugs, from booze. I needed clarity. I knew I would never hurt Nell – never knowingly harm anyone, ever – but I was frightened that I was so distracted at the moment that I might not, right now, be the best mother. She was better off with Rupert, just for a day or so, while I tried to straighten things out in my head.
I’d hoped that today, meeting up with Flora, might help. But it hadn’t, not really, even though seeing her had been nice. She looked great, fresh-faced and pretty as always, dressed in tight black leggings, a leather jacket, funky red trainers. She’d seemed a little nervous though, for the first few minutes, rubbing at the old scar on her wrist, looking anxiously around the living room, eyes flicking towards the window and back to the corner of the room where Zander’s pram used to sit. Understandable, of course. She’d left because the aftermath of what had happened had been too hard for her to deal with, and now I’d asked her to come back, to relive the events of that day all over again. I was surprised she’d agreed, to be honest, but that was Flora – always willing to assist, even if she wasn’t really able to help in the end this time, or not much anyway.
She’d looked a little shocked when I’d opened the door, although she recovered quickly, and for a moment I couldn’t work out why she’d reacted liked that. But as I’d let her in, and followed her into the living room, I’d caught a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror and realized what was wrong. I looked dreadful. I was even thinner now than I had been a few weeks ago, when I’d first noticed I’d lost weight, my appetite virtually gone. My cheekbones jutted out beneath the dark circles under my eyes, my skin was deathly pale and free of makeup – free of even moisturizer most days, if I was honest – my hair was stringy and greasy, scraped back in a scraggy ponytail. I hadn’t even put clean clothes on today, and my white, lambswool jumper and jeans were both looking less than pristine. I’d always taken care of myself, before, always enjoyed a bouncy blow-dry and a red lipstick, but there didn’t seem to be any point, not anymore.
As we sat down, I touched my hair self-consciously, and apologized.
‘Flora, I’m so sorry, I look a mess. It’s just with all this on my mind, I’ve neglected the old personal grooming a bit …’
She held up a hand, shaking her head, her composure returned.
‘Don’t be silly, Thea, honestly. I totally understand. You look fine. It’s nice to see you again.’
I smiled.
‘You too.’
I had already prepared coffee and biscuits, expecting that, as usual, she would arrive exactly on time, so I busied myself pouring the drinks and sliding salted caramel cookies onto the saucers, knowing I wouldn’t touch mine. Once we were settled, cups in hand, I leaned back in my chair and began.
‘Flora, I’m so sorry to ask you to come back here – I know how difficult this must be for you.’
She opened her mouth, probably to protest, but I carried on, the words coming out in a rush now.
‘The thing is, and this is going to sound mad, crazy even, but the thing is, Flora, after months of not being able to remember anything, having this amnesia thing, well, over the past little while things have started to come back, memories, about the day Zander … about that day, but the thing is these memories, thoughts, whatever they are, they’re just … well, they’re just weird, because they’re telling me that things happened really differently, totally differently, to how everyone else says they happened, and I know that can’t be possible, but it just seems so real, Flora …
I paused for breath. Her eyes were fixed on mine now, frowning.
‘Diff … differently? In what way? What are you remembering?’
I sighed.
‘Well, this is the thing, you see. I don’t know if I’m actually remembering, or if it’s some sort of false memory. A sort of wishful thinking, if you know what I mean? My stupid brain not being able to cope with the truth and trying to come up with a more … I don’t know, a more palatable version of what happened. So I thought it might help to talk it through, with someone who was there, but I can’t talk to Rupert, he hates me too much, and Isla … well …’
I put my coffee cup down on the table in front of me and rubbed my eyes. Flora sat in silence, waiting.
‘Isla … well, I’ve remembered something a bit odd that involves her, so I feel I can’t talk to her about this either, not right now anyway. So you seemed the best person. Someone who was there, but someone a little bit removed, you know, from my immediate circle? I’m so sorry to bring you into this, but I feel like I’m going mad, Flora, and it just might help, to run this all past you, if you can bear it? I have another meeting with my solicitors tomorrow, you see—’
‘It’s fine, it’s fine,’ she interrupted me, leaning over to put her own cup down too. ‘Tell me, Thea. Tell me what you’re thinking, and I’ll see if I can help.’
‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’
And so I told her. I told her that, although I still couldn’t remember the actual drive home from the bar that afternoon, that I remembered us pulling up outside the house, and being in the passenger seat. That, in my head, Isla and Nell had gone ahead, running into the house, and that I had taken my sleeping baby out of his car seat, up the path, inside. Had put him, still asleep, in his pram in the corner of the living room, before collapsing onto the sofa. How Isla and Nell had returned from the bathroom, and how Isla and I had decided to have a few more drinks and opened a bottle of wine. And then how everything became a blur again, until the only part which was, and would always be, horr
ifically crystal clear – the part where she, Flora, had come running in, white-faced with fear, my dead baby in her arms.
She listened, eyes flitting between my face and the empty corner where the pram used to be, her expression unreadable. When I’d finished she sat in silence for a moment, then cleared her throat.
‘OK. Look, the car driving thing, that’s weird. I mean, I was upstairs in my room, which was at the back, of course. So I suppose, thinking about it, I have no idea who drove the car home, because I didn’t actually see that. I know I heard the front door open, and slam shut, and then I heard Isla and Nell both shouting and laughing and running. And then a minute or so later, I heard the door open again, and I assumed it was you, bringing Zander in. And then … well, when the police came and everything, and you were telling them what happened, you told them you couldn’t really remember anything, but you did say you’d driven home, didn’t you? I mean it was your car, and you always drove, so why would Isla be driving that day? Nobody questioned it, didn’t even think to question it. I certainly didn’t.’
She was looking deeply puzzled, and I nodded.
‘I know, I know. And it doesn’t really mean anything, not on its own. It doesn’t matter who was driving, not really. It was still up to me to bring Zander in. But it’s just so odd, don’t you think? That I think now that it was Isla?’
‘Yes. Yes, it is. I don’t know what to say, Thea. I didn’t see. I just assumed that it was you. It could easily have been Isla though. Haven’t you asked Nell, does she not remember?’
I had asked Nell, eventually, a few days ago, after agonizing about it for ages. I hadn’t wanted to stir things up for her, especially not now when she seemed to be feeling a little better, and knowing how any reference to that day could send her into meltdown. But it had got to the point where I needed to, I had to. She was the only other person in the car that day – surely she’d remember who was driving?
‘I did ask her. She says she thinks it was me. But she says her head is … well, fuzzy is how she describes it. But she’d fallen asleep in the back seat, of course, with her headphones on, and didn’t really pay much attention to what was going on in the front. And it’s true, kids don’t, not really. She says she just remembers opening her eyes when we got home and realizing she was dying for a wee, and jumping out of the car and racing Isla up the path.’
Flora nodded slowly.
‘I mean, that’s what we all thought happened. I don’t know how you could find out for definite, not really, without asking Isla, unless a neighbour or someone passing by saw the car pull up and noticed who got out of the driver’s seat? Unlikely, I suppose, though, after this long?’
‘Pretty unlikely, yes.’
I’d thought of that too, had even plucked up the courage to knock on a few doors on Saturday morning, asked my bemused neighbours the question. I’d been greeted by blank stares, shrugs, ill-concealed hostility. You weren’t friends with your neighbours, not on this road. But they all knew who I was, what I’d done. It had been a waste of time.
I topped up the coffee, offering Flora another biscuit, even though her first two, like mine, were untouched. Then I sat back in my chair again.
‘So, the other bit. The most important bit. Why do I think I brought Zander in from the car? Why is that so clear in my head now? Because that bit, that can’t have happened, can it?’
Flora turned to look out of the window again. A car was parked outside now, in the space right next to the gate, a blue estate of some sort. She stared at it for a moment, then looked back at me.
‘Well, again, I was upstairs when you came home, so I didn’t see. But if it did happen like you think, what would that mean, Thea? I found Zander … I found Zander dead in your car, out there. If you brought him in, how would he get back out there again? He couldn’t walk, couldn’t unlock the car and climb back in by himself, could he? He was eight months old.’
Her voice had an edge to it now, and I glanced down at my hands, suddenly feeling ridiculous, sick.
‘I know. I know that what I’m suggesting is impossible, Flora. I’m suggesting that if I did bring him in, somebody else must have put him back out there again. Which is insane, right? Because who would do that? But—’
‘Yes, who would do that? Come on, Thea. I want to help you, and I agree with you that the issue of who was driving the car could be up for debate, if you think it wasn’t you. But … well, the rest of it …’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t help you, Thea, I’m sorry. And I need to get going. I have some shopping to do and I don’t want to miss my bus back to Cirencester. I’m sorry, really, but …’
She shook her head again, sighed and stood up, zipping her jacket. I stood, too, and reached out to touch her arm.
‘Don’t be sorry. It’s just me, clutching at straws. I shouldn’t have involved you, I’m really sorry. But thank you so much, for coming up here and seeing me. You didn’t have to, and I appreciate it.’
She shrugged.
‘That’s OK. Good luck, Thea, with the trial and everything. I know you would never have hurt Zander intentionally. I know how much you loved him. I’m so sorry about how it all turned out. You’re a great mum. I hope it all … I hope it all goes your way.’
The unexpected kindness of her words brought sudden tears to my eyes, and I stammered a thank you. But as I saw her to the door and said goodbye, the memory was there again, the blue door, my stumbling feet, the weight of my baby in my arms. I slammed the door shut and leaned my forehead against the cool wood, my brain racing. I was going insane. I was ill. What other explanation was there?
Now, hours later, as I sat in the quiet kitchen cradling my mug of tea, trying to still my churning thoughts, I was still as confused as I had been before Flora’s visit. My appointment at my solicitors was at ten tomorrow morning. I had still been undecided about whether to tell them about all this, whether to confess to this sudden, senseless confusion I was experiencing about the events of that day. But now, I suddenly realized that I had to say something, just in case. Tell us everything, they had told me at earlier meetings. Everything you remember, no matter how trivial.
Oh, you’re going to love this, I thought.
25
FLORA
‘OUCH.’
I rubbed my arm, scowling at the corner of the kitchen worktop, then made my way unsteadily to the sink, reached for a glass on the shelf to the right, and turned the tap on. The water splashed noisily into the sink, and I moved the glass under the stream of water, catching a little before glugging it down and returning the glass for more.
‘Flora? You OK? What are you doing in here in the dark?’
It was Greg, and suddenly the kitchen lights blazed.
‘Urgh, too bright!’ I said, turning to squint at him across the room. He was leaning on the door frame, looking fit and lean in a close-fitting long-sleeved navy T-shirt, looking me up and down with an amused smile.
‘You sound like Gizmo. From Gremlins? The film?’
He paused, as I stared at him, not understanding. Then he frowned.
‘Flora … are you … are you drunk?’
I put the glass down and took a step towards him, staggered a little, then stopped again.
‘I’m … I’m not drunk, exactly. I may have had a glass of wine. Or … two, or … look, it’s allowed, isn’t it? I’m not working today.’
Oh dear, I thought. I am drunk, aren’t I? What on earth possessed me to open a bottle of wine in my room after I got back from Cheltenham? Greg was right … I was definitely rather drunk.
‘Well, yes, of course it’s allowed. It’s just not like you, that’s all. It’s not even eight thirty. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you even remotely drunk before. Are you all right?’
He was crossing the room now, the amusement on his face turning to concern, and suddenly, to my horror, I felt tears sliding down my cheeks. I brushed them away fiercely with the backs of my hands, but he’d already noticed.
‘Fl
ora! What is it? What’s wrong? Come here.’
With one swift movement he took me by the shoulders and pulled me into an embrace, one arm moving downwards to wrap around my waist, the other gently patting my hair. For a moment I rested my head on his hard chest, enjoying the comforting warmth of him, the soft murmurings of: ‘Hey, don’t cry, it’ll be OK, whatever it is.’ Then I pulled away, embarrassed.
‘Greg, I’m sorry … I saw Thea today. She asked me to go and see her, to talk through what happened, you know, when Zander … and it’s just upset me, that’s all. Going back there, remembering …’
‘Talk through it? Why? What’s to talk about?’
He was frowning now, his face darkening.
‘Oh, she says she’s remembering things, her memory is starting to come back and she’s remembering it differently to how she thought it all happened … she wanted to see if I could help shed any light on it, but I couldn’t, not really. Excuse me …’
I turned away, intending to get a piece of kitchen paper from the roll on the wall to wipe my face, but Greg grabbed my arm, pulling me back towards him.
‘God, that woman. She’s crazy. We all know what happened, and it wasn’t fair of her to upset you like this,’ he said quietly. He cupped my chin in his hand, tilting my face upwards, and before I could think or move away again he had dropped a quick, soft kiss onto my lips.
‘I hate seeing you upset, Flora,’ he whispered.
‘Dad? What’s going on?’
We both jumped as Oliver suddenly appeared in the doorway, and I took a step backwards, shocked. How much had he seen?
‘Olly.’
Greg turned and smiled at his son, then gestured at me.
‘Flora’s just a bit upset. She … bumped into Thea Ashfield today. It brought back bad memories, you understand?’
Am I Guilty? Page 16