Mindsight

by Chris Curran

I’m making love with Steve, his body pounding into mine as I clutch at him. Then a burst of light stabs the darkness and I realise the man isn’t Steve, but Kieran. Through the dazzle I see we’re in a prison yard, our naked bodies squirming under the brilliance of a spotlight. And then he’s gone and I’m alone, shivering under the harsh beam, as voices mock and catcall.

  I woke to bright daylight, hot and tangled in the sheets, my bruises throbbing. The dream hung over me as I showered and dressed for work, and I could see just where it had come from. Last night I had wanted nothing more than to call Kieran back, to apologise for being so ungrateful. And, if I was honest, to have him hold me; to help me forget everything for a few hours.

  But I had promised myself I would steer clear of men. I had thought Steve loved me, but, in Holloway, remembering the insinuations at the trial, I often wondered if I’d been fooling myself all along.

  Stories of happy marriages were non-existent in prison and nearly every woman there had been through too many dreadful relationships, too many painful break ups. That didn’t stop them hoping the next time would be different, and affairs were starting up, and breaking up, all the time inside too.

  It wasn’t just the real lesbians who fell in love either, many women became prison bent, as they called it, reaching out instinctively for love and companionship. These affairs nearly always ended badly: one of them would be released and go back to the man who hadn’t bothered to visit her, or a new girl would arrive on the block to cause a split.

  Ruby and I became the closest of friends, but maybe because we only ever hugged we were able to support each other through the bad times. She always said she was done with romantic relationships. ‘All the troubles I’ve had have been caused by the bastard men I’ve got myself involved with. And I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again, even with a girl. It’s gonna be just the kids, me, and my mum when I get out.’

  At first, I couldn’t even imagine getting out and it seemed wrong, after what I’d done, to think of a life in the real world. But, along with Alice and Lorna, Ruby helped me see that I was being selfish and that Tom still needed me. ‘He might give you a hard time, and I guess you deserve that,’ she said, ‘but you gotta be there for him.’

  She was right and I had to be there for Tom, with no distractions. So perhaps it was just as well Kieran might want to avoid me in future.

  I could hear his usual jazz playing upstairs, so I felt safe to leave the flat, but as I reached the door I froze. A creak on the stairs told me someone was coming down. I waited, my breath caught in my mouth, as the soft footsteps paused in the hall. I imagined him contemplating my door, but then another door – it must have been Nic’s – opened and closed quietly again.

  At work, Stella was shocked by my bruised face, and despite my protests, she told me to go home early.

  When I got in, the flat felt grubby and neglected, with my holdall spilling clothes in the middle of the living room. It smelled even mustier today and suddenly seemed far too big, with too many windows, too many doors, and I was tempted to go for a walk rather than face what I knew I must do.

  Gritting my teeth, I dragged the DVD from the bag, slotted the thing into the machine, then walked over to unlock and push up one of the windows, the movement sending condensation dripping down onto the sill. A draught of cooler air touched my face and shook me into action. Just do it, will you. I pressed PLAY, my finger moving at once to hover over the STOP button.

  Whoever held the camera was no expert, zooming in and out at inappropriate moments, giving sudden drunken close-ups of doors and chair legs. Here were Emily and Aunt Rose in dressing gowns, laughing with her bridesmaid and waving the camera away as they fiddled with headdresses and shoes. A stomach-churning view of the stairs, the banister, swaying in and out of shot, and Uncle Alan, in the living room adjusting his buttonhole and tugging at his silk waistcoat. Another drunken lurch upwards showed Emily descending the stairs, in her froth of white, the clapping and whistles off-camera making her laugh and press her bouquet to her face.

  Then inside the church, just recognisable as the one I’d been in the other day, but full of people and resembling a wedding scene from Thomas Hardy, with pews garlanded with flowers and trailing ribbon. The camera, more steady now, panned over the congregation, and I moved to kneel in front of the TV, peering hard, my heart loud in my ears.

  The off-key organ wheezed into The Wedding March, and there was my lost self, turning to smile at Emily. She, Clare, was mouthing something and I lip-read the word ‘Lovely’. Next to her, Steve, oh so handsome, turning and smiling too. That other Clare – young, uncrushed, undamaged – looked almost beautiful in a violet silk dress, a chiffon stole over her shoulders.

  And I was biting my hand and stifling the groan that wanted to burst from under my ribcage as I watched the laughing crowd in the churchyard ignoring the harassed photographer.

  A little girl, in a pink dress and angel wings, romped round the gravestones, chased by a boy – my boy – my Toby. He was laughing straight into the camera now, as that other, long-gone, Clare gestured for him to join the family group. With the little girl in tow, he bounced back behind another gravestone, peeping out to shake his head, as the video camera zoomed in. It swayed for a moment over the headstone, the words In Loving Memory standing out black against the white marble, then moved to focus on Toby. I pressed the pause button and leant forward on my knees to stroke his laughing face, smoothing his hair with my finger. He’d had it cut specially for the wedding and I remembered for the first time since that morning how tender the strip of pale skin, newly exposed at the back of his neck, had looked in contrast to his tan further down.

  I pressed the button to play again, but when Toby stepped from behind the gravestone, I paused it once more. My fingers curled on the screen as if they could hold him, as if, somehow, even now, I could pull him from behind the glass.

  How long I stayed like that I don’t know, but there was only one thing I could do for Toby and that was to help his brother. I had to face this for Tommy’s sake.

  The reception was in a marquee in the grounds of Matt’s parents’ farm, and during the best man’s speech the camera scanned the guests again. There was plenty of laughter, although the jokes were pretty lame, but I remembered what Emily had said about people being under stress and watched carefully.

  Dad was smiling, but I knew how well he could conceal his emotions. Lorna was nowhere near him, on a table with some people I didn’t know, and was looking down at her plate when the camera stopped on them. She must have been aware of it because she looked up, touched her hair, and there was her usual serene expression, but was I imagining it or had there been real misery on her face as she stared at the table? I would have to look back again later, for now I was desperate to get to the end.

  Matt was shaking the best man’s hand and standing to give his own speech. He was good, not many jokes, but he soon had everyone chuckling with genuine amusement. A glimpse of myself and Steve, both laughing, and another of Dad.

  I pressed pause again – there was something in Dad’s expression as he watched Matt. Again I told myself it could be nothing, my own suspicions conjuring up something that wasn’t there. But I knew Dad and this time he wasn’t bothering to hide how he felt. And I was sure that look was one of dislike.

  I played the moment back and forth. Matt was saying the usual silly bridegroom things. It wasn’t his words that had upset Dad, it was Matt himself.

  I watched on. There were glimpses of that other me: the one I hated for what she was about to do, dancing with Steve, dragging a red-faced Toby up for a few uncoordinated turns to the music. And all the time I was smiling, a real smile. I looked happy. So if something had upset me, I was hiding it well.

  Now I was sitting with Alice, both of us waving the camera away and looking a bit the worse for wear, although I only had a coffee cup in front of me.

  A flash of the trial, here, as I recalled my sister in the witness box, insisting
I’d seemed fine and she was sure I’d had nothing alcoholic to drink. The prosecution barrister asked her if most people were drinking all evening. ‘Well it was a wedding,’ she said, looking at the judge with those big blue eyes. He smiled at her and nodded, I remembered, and it almost made me smile.

  ‘And you’d been drinking yourself?’ the barrister pressed on.

  ‘Yes, but just champagne and I was getting a lift back to the hotel.’ She had looked so young and vulnerable all alone up there, but she spoke clearly and when he tried to get her to admit she was too drunk to tell what state I was in, she said firmly that she was quite capable. He rephrased and tried again until the judge told him to move on.

  When my barrister asked if she thought Steve and I were happy together, she nodded and said, ‘Yes, very happy,’ turning to the jury as she said it. As she left the witness box she gave me a tiny nod and a tremulous smile.

  Here were the older ones, watching the dancing: Lorna, Dad, Uncle Alan, and Aunt Rose. Dad still looked grim. Perhaps he was just tired, but that seemed unlikely, he always loved parties and was a real night owl. This was something I had to look into. Surely other people must have noticed his mood.

  The camera seemed to have missed Emily and Matt’s departure because the evening was obviously coming to a close. Then a series of camera lurches towards the exit, as people began leaving. Alice went with a young couple who wanted to get away early because of their baby. She couldn’t be late either. She had to work at Newcastle General next day. In the end she spent that day and those following in a different hospital, by my bed.

  Then, on screen, I saw Lorna, car keys in hand, waving to someone as she waited for the people she was driving back to the hotel.

  Another twist of pain as I watched myself covering Toby with a coat while he slept on a pile of cushions. In the background, Steve’s slurred voice, saying something silly about yummy mummies, as the camera zoomed in on my backside. A woman speaking then, faint and muffled, obviously asking a question. We both turned to her and my husband’s reply was clear enough.

  And there it was, the oh-so-simple explanation to one of the questions I’d agonised over all these years. ‘Don’t worry, Sylvia, you get off. Toby’s fast asleep, and it’d be a shame to disturb him. I’d like another drink anyway. Then I’ll prise Robert away and Clare can drive us all.’

  Oh no, Steve, don’t say that. I had a crazy impulse to rewind the thing. To hope that this time he’d change his mind, and take himself and my baby away in the safe car with Aunt Rose’s friend Sylvia, who would – this time – deliver them whole and well to the hotel.

  So that was why the police had given up trying to make me say I persuaded Steve to stay – the evidence was clear: he made the decision.

  The recording rolled onwards to take in the empty marquee and the debris of the day. Aunt Rose, shoeless, wandered from table to table, dropping bits of rubbish into a bin bag and waving the camera away, telling Alan to turn it off now.

  But here we were again: Dad, his voice too loud as usual. ‘Bye, Alan. Goodnight, Rose.’ He looked drunk, which again was unusual for him. He could down a whole bottle of Scotch with no apparent effect.

  Steve followed, carrying Toby. Then me, chiffon stole trailing on the floor.

  At the exit, Steve stumbled and a woman rushed forward to steady him. One of Toby’s legs hung loose, and she tucked it back into Steve’s arms, patting his shoulder as she did so. I recognised her too from the trial. She was a friend of Matt’s mum, drafted in to help with the clearing up. She confirmed we were the last to leave. Said she had noticed nothing odd about my behaviour, although she looked doubtful when asked if I seemed drunk or drugged and just said she wouldn’t know about that.

  But now, watching myself, I did know. I was no longer in the frame, but I was certainly nearby. So why had I made no move to help Steve: to protect my son? The answer was in the sound recording – I had laughed – as Steve nearly dropped my child and another woman rushed to save him – I had laughed. A silly, reckless laugh: the kind of laugh I remembered from prison. The one that told us a visitor had managed to smuggle in some dope.

  I sat on the floor, hugging my knees and rocking. My mind filled with those images of Toby, playing around the graves, then red-faced and embarrassed as I made him dance with me. And finally, that thin, vulnerable leg, dangling, helplessly, while I laughed my frenetic, junkie’s laugh.

  I told myself I could at least be sure I never intended to hurt Steve and Toby. It was Steve who wanted to wait and by that time I was obviously too out of it to know I shouldn’t be driving.

  There were things I needed to look at again, to think about, but still no clue as to when I had taken the stuff, where or who I’d got it from and most of all what had made me want it. And no stir of memory. Nothing I could tell Tom.

  I was brought back to myself by a tap on the door. ‘Clare, are you in? It’s Kieran.’ I clutched my knees tighter, hardly daring to breathe until I heard his footsteps on the stairs, then moving about over my head.

  Finally I got to my feet, splashed my face with cold water, and took the DVD from the machine, putting it back into its case and telling myself that was enough for today.

  When I dialled Alice’s number, Tom answered and my heart gave a small skip. ‘So what happened?’ he said as soon as he heard my voice.

  ‘I found out Mr Hillier knew Jacob Downes, the biker, and I’ve asked him to contact Jacob for me.’ I knew I must let him help me. ‘So, Tom, have you got any ideas about what I should ask if I do get to speak to him?’

  He was breathing fast. ‘Yes, I’ve been thinking about that. I know it was a quiet road, but we should ask both of them if they’re sure they didn’t pass any other cars.’

  Clever boy. ‘Yes, that’s just the kind of thing I mean. Maybe you could write out a list of possible questions for me. We’ve got a whole day together tomorrow so we can talk about it properly then.’

  ‘What about your memory? Did you remember anything?’

  ‘I really feel as if something may be stirring, but it’s all very vague and I think I need to let it become a bit clearer before I talk about it. Is that all right with you?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s OK. Alice says minds are delicate and we have to give you time.’

  ‘Thanks, Tom. And I’m glad you’ve been speaking to Alice about all this. We mustn’t shut her out.’

  ‘OK.’

  When I talked to Alice she asked about Emily.

  ‘She’s great. Matt wasn’t there so it was just the two of us.’

  ‘And you’re OK? Glad you went up there?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ I knew she’d notice the bump on my forehead when she came over so I told her about the accident.

  ‘Oh, Clare, I warned you about that road.’

  ‘I know, but I was tired and thinking of other things.’

  ‘Bet I can guess what things they were. So are you any further forward?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Have you remembered something?’

  ‘Not really, but I’ve seen the wedding DVD and Dad didn’t look happy at all. Did you notice on the day?’

  She was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking. ‘I can’t say I did, but he was under terrible strain just then, you know that.’

  ‘And what about the end of the evening?’

  ‘Well, it all kind of fizzled out after Emily and Matt left so I can’t remember anything much about it.’

  ‘What time did they go?’

  ‘Now you’ve got me. I think they just disappeared. I know they were flying out first thing next morning so I suppose they left fairly early. Do you know, I can’t even remember Emily throwing her bouquet.’

  ‘It isn’t on the DVD either so it looks like she didn’t do it,’ I said. ‘But that’s odd because I remember talking about it at the hen night, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes I do, now you mention it. She promised to throw it to me. I suppose she forgot in all the excitement.’

&n
bsp; I wanted to talk about my sense of a real memory coming to life and my theories on the headlights, but I needed time to process all that. I told her I’d seen Hillier and I hoped he’d lead me to Jacob Downes, and left it at that.

  ‘Please be careful,’ she said. ‘I remember that biker from the trial and I didn’t like the look of him at all.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  When the knock came again, I answered the door.

  Kieran was dressed in dark trousers that looked to be part of a business suit, his white shirt was open at the collar, and he’d rolled the sleeves back. He was smiling, head to one side. ‘Am I forgiven?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘What an arse you must think I am. There you were, in shock, and first of all I frighten you by letting myself in, and then throw a wobbler when you, quite rightly, tell me to piss off.’

  I tried to laugh. ‘I didn’t tell you to piss off, just … well as you say, I’d had a shock. I was rude. You were only trying to help.’

  ‘OK, let’s call it evens shall we? But only if you take me up on my offer of a meal. I’ve had a bloody awful day in London and I’ve already started cooking, so if you say no that really will be rude.’

  He turned and walked towards the stairs, looking back at me with a lopsided smile. ‘And you’re quite safe, Nic’s already up there. So, see you in five minutes.’

  After I’d closed the door on him I leaned my head against it. In the living room the DVD waited, heavy with its burden of pain. If I stayed here I knew I would watch it again and again. Hoping this time it would be different.

  *

  Kieran’s flat smelled of garlic and onions. Nic was sitting on the sofa, a large glass of wine on the table in front of her and Molly asleep in her arms. ‘Are you all right?’ she said, her face crumpled with concern. ‘Kieran told me what happened.’

  ‘I’m fine. Just my own stupid fault.’

  ‘That road is terrible. I tell you getting the buggy up and down there you take your life in your hands.’ She stood up, Molly lolling in her arms. ‘Here, have a seat. I was just going to put her down on Kieran’s bed.’