Mindsight

by Chris Curran

  But she was too late, we’d already left, and she met us at that dangerous bend with her headlights blazing.

  I came back to myself, aware of a man watching me from a nearby table. I must have been staring into space with God knows what expression. Horror, probably, because I was horrified with myself for thinking like this. The idea that Alice might have known I’d stolen the pills from her and kept it from me was one thing, but that she was partly to blame for the accident – how could I think so for even a moment? I tore the page from the notebook, ripped it into tiny pieces, and scattered them along the road as I walked home.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lorna was in the same room when I got to the hospital next day, but sitting in a chair by the window, her bandaged leg propped in front of her. At the sight of her smile I knelt by her side, leaning over the arm of the chair to lay my head on her chest. We stayed like that for long minutes and I felt her hand, warm, on the back of my head, then moving to stroke my cheek, and when I looked up we shared a smile.

  An orderly brought us coffee, which tasted like warm water, but it was lovely just to sit quietly together. After I’d swallowed a few gulps to moisten my throat enough to speak I asked how she was. ‘I’m fine, nearly ready to get out of here, thank goodness.’

  I went to speak, but she raised her hand. ‘Before you ask, I won’t need any help. They say I can mostly manage on my own and I’ve a neighbour I can call if need be.’ She smiled again, but I could see what Alice meant: there was a new darkness in her eyes.

  A brown bird sat on the branch of a tree outside the window, so still it might have been a toy.

  Lorna touched my hand. ‘What is it? Tell me, please.’

  ‘First I need to ask if you know anything more about Dad and Matt. I’ve seen the wedding video. It seems obvious Dad is angry with Matt and Matt has admitted as much.’

  She sighed. ‘All right, yes, there were big problems between them for a while. Your father knew people were already talking to Global about the possible takeover. Rats and sinking ships he used to say. But Matt upset him much more than the others because they’d been so close and, of course, he was going to be part of the family.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  ‘As far as I know, but Matt did work with Dr Penrose and if he thought Penrose was unfairly treated I can’t imagine him staying quiet about it, can you? They may have argued about that.’

  It made sense and I couldn’t imagine either of them avoiding a confrontation, even at a wedding. Lorna’s dark eyes were fixed on me. ‘But that isn’t what’s really worrying you, is it?’

  ‘Emily told me about Alice having amphetamines on her at the hen night. Do you think I should ask if she had them with her at the wedding too? And if so, do I ask if she realised I could have taken some?’

  Lorna’s hand moved to smooth her hair, still as beautiful as ever. ‘All I can say is, if I was in your place I wouldn’t. What good can it do at this stage?’

  ‘It would stop me imagining even worse.’

  The plastic chair squealed as I pushed it back, needing to move, to get away and stop thinking these awful thoughts.

  ‘Clare, don’t go,’ she said. ‘Let’s talk it through. You can trust me.’ Her eyes gleamed in a shaft of sunlight.

  I drew the chair close to her again. ‘You know I keep seeing that flash of light? Well, I think it might have been headlights coming towards us on the bend. Mr Hillier has spoken to the biker who was the first witness at the scene and he let slip there was someone else there before him.’

  ‘The biker?’

  ‘You know, the scruffy young guy from the trial. And I’ve had a memory flash of two people standing in the road before I collapsed.’

  There was a tinge of red on Lorna’s cheek bones and she leaned forward. ‘I don’t understand. What does this have to do with Alice?’

  I closed my eyes, unable to look at her. ‘I keep thinking maybe she left the reception, then saw some pills were missing and realised I’d been acting as if I was high. Do you think she might have driven back to try and stop me?’

  Lorna was silent: I couldn’t even hear her breathing. When I opened my eyes she had leaned away from me, arms crossed over her chest. Her voice sounded tight. ‘This is Alice you’re talking about. Do you really believe she’s capable of doing that and keeping quiet about it afterwards?’

  ‘She’d been drinking, might even have been on something herself. I doubt she was thinking straight. She would have meant to help us.’ My throat was so dry I coughed over the words and my eyes began to water. Lorna waited while I gulped dregs of cold coffee. ‘And afterwards she would have been in shock,’ I said.

  ‘But all these years?’

  ‘I know, I know, but you see why I have to talk to her. I can’t get these thoughts out of my head unless I do.’

  ‘I can help with that.’ Her voice was gentle. ‘Because I was at the hotel that night, too. I drove to and from the reception and I hadn’t had a drink and the friends I’d given a lift to insisted on buying me one when we got back.’

  She screwed up her eyes, trying to picture the scene. ‘Maggie, Peter, and I were sitting in the bar when Alice came in. We had a bottle of wine and we asked her to join us. Then … let me see … ’

  She held up her hand to stop me speaking. ‘Yes. We were all sitting at a little round table by the window. I was very tired. Really wanted to go to bed, but Peter insisted on getting another bottle.’ When she stopped, lost in her thoughts, I waited as long as I could.

  ‘Lorna?’

  ‘We saw the headlights of a car and someone said, “That’ll be Sylvia, with Steve and Toby,” or something like that. But when Sylvia came in she was on her own.’

  I couldn’t stop myself. ‘So Alice knew they were with me?’

  ‘That’s not the point, Clare. What I’m saying is that she was at the hotel hours before the accident.’

  ‘But she could have gone out again.’

  Neither of us spoke for a long time. The coffee must have been freezing, but Lorna drained her cup. It clinked into the saucer. ‘You’re surely not going to say anything like this to Alice herself?’

  Having spoken it aloud I saw how mad it must sound and how terrible it would be to accuse my sister. I leaned back in my chair. ‘No, but thank you for listening. It was important to say it: to stop it festering away. Now I have to focus on getting more out of Jacob Downes and shaking up my memory.’

  ‘Has much more come back?’

  ‘Apart from the two figures, nothing definite, but I’m sure I’m close. The moments when I feel I’m nearly there seem to be connected to situations like that night. There’s usually movement and a sudden flash of light. It’s the same kind of thing I’ve always seen, but much clearer.’

  ‘And you really want to remember? Whatever you discover?’

  ‘I have to tell Tom the truth.’

  Her eyes shone and her hand came to her mouth. ‘Sorry.’

  Tears threatened me too and I closed my eyes to blink them away. Lorna took my hands.

  And something happened.

  No flash this time; no sense of being that other Clare. Just darkness. And in that darkness, an image. A black gate. It towered there, studded with bolts, barred and padlocked. And a feeling of dread so fierce I couldn’t breathe. My eyes flew open.

  ‘Clare?’

  I forced myself to breathe again.

  ‘Did you have another memory?’ Lorna asked.

  ‘Not exactly. I thought I saw a big gate, just a big, black gate, that’s all, but I felt so awful.’

  We sat for a while saying nothing until a nurse popped his head around the door to tell Lorna her doctor was coming. As I bent to kiss her goodbye, Lorna held my wrist and said, ‘I’m so worried about you, Clare. Will you do me a favour and leave it for now? Take some time to think it through. I’ll think too. I’m due out tomorrow, so come and see me at home as soon as you can.’

  As I kissed her cheek, Lorna rub
bed the back of my head again and whispered, ‘I love you, my darling.’

  And I left her there, looking out at the little bird, sitting so still on his branch.

  When I was on the train, Kieran phoned and I asked after his mother.

  ‘The operation went as well as it could, but it’s obviously only delaying the inevitable.’ He sounded very low. ‘And what about you? Something else has happened, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Nothing, I’m fine.’

  ‘So no news from Mr Hillier or Jake?’

  I could tell him this. ‘Oh yes, apparently Jake let slip that there was another car on the scene.’

  ‘That’s good – fits your memories at least.’

  ‘And my cousin’s husband lives locally so he’s going to try to talk to Downes himself. Until I hear from him, or from Mr Hillier again, there’s nothing more I can do.’

  There was a silence. I couldn’t find anything to say, but I didn’t want him to go. Then he said. ‘I’d better get back to Mum, but I’ll ring again tomorrow if that’s all right.’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The phone didn’t ring during the next couple of nights, but I almost wished it would. I was hardly sleeping anyway and at least I’d be sure I hadn’t imagined it all. I told myself I wasn’t paranoid. Unsettling things had happened and I wasn’t going mad because I was beginning to think some of Tom’s theories weren’t too far-fetched. Anyone and everyone could have something to hide and I needed to be open to all possibilities if I was to face up to my memories. But when I closed my eyes all I could see was that image: the black gate, tall and overwhelming. And I knew it was a warning; a warning from my own mind.

  Lorna rang twice and left messages, but there was no answer when I tried to call her back. She sounded very subdued each time, just saying she was home and hoped I’d visit as soon as I could. On my next day off work I went up to London to see her.

  She had told me she still kept her key hidden under a special stone in one of her window boxes. ‘I’m capable of staggering to the door, but it’ll be quicker if you let yourself in.’

  It felt so much like coming here all those years ago that I stopped for a moment, almost expecting a flash of lost memory, but there was nothing.

  A pair of shoes stood on the mat and the door to the courtyard at the end of the narrow hallway was open, giving a glimpse of dappled greenery on the old walls. Although it was cool today, the courtyard, sheltered by the walls, had a Mediterranean look with its stone bench, pots of herbs and red geraniums. I had a sudden memory of Lorna sitting on that bench, cushions piled behind her, looking up with a smile from the book she was reading.

  Today the garden was empty, the kitchen and bathroom too. I checked the living room, saying, ‘Hello, it’s Clare,’ before opening the door in case she was dozing in a chair. She wasn’t there either so she must be lying down.

  I tapped on the bedroom door then eased it open. A shimmer of light filtered through the curtains, a tiny clock ticked on the bedside table. There was an overturned glass next to the clock and the photograph of Dad and Lorna, in its silver frame, lay on the floor.

  And Lorna was on the bed, hair and makeup perfect, eyes closed, head to one side.

  Obviously dead.

  She was fully dressed, but barefoot; one bandaged leg stretched in front of her, the other hanging over the side of the bed. The glass and the photograph were the only things out of place. The room was absolutely still. And from where I stood, gripping the door handle till my fingers hurt, I could feel and smell death.

  It had already turned Lorna into something else, something heavy, something solid. I reached out to stop myself from falling, but my hand touched the lumpen thing on the bed and I stumbled down onto one knee.

  The carpet was damp and as my hand knocked into the photograph frame Dad’s smile wavered, his face distorted by the sheen of water that had dripped from the overturned glass.

  I hauled myself to my feet and into the hall, bending over to gasp for breath. After an eternity, I forced myself to look into the bedroom again, pulled out my mobile and sent for an ambulance, all the time staring at the bed, needing to see the thing there, to make myself believe what I was saying.

  Then I called Alice, propping myself against the wall to still my shaking legs. ‘I’m at Lorna’s and, Alice, I’m sorry, she’s dead.’

  ‘Oh … ’ Silence, then a clunk and a breath, and her voice, quieter, but calm. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘What can you see? I mean what does she look like? Do you think she’s had an accident?’

  ‘No, she’s just lying there on her bed. It must be something to do with the operation.’

  ‘Yes, that’s probably it. Thrombosis … heart. You’d better call an ambulance. Or do you want me to do it?’

  ‘I’ve done that already.’ I felt a twist of irritation; wanting to snap at her that I’d seen death in prison and in far more sordid circumstances than this. But of course this was different. This was Lorna, and my stomach churned, my head spinning again, till I had to hold onto the hall table.

  ‘OK. Look, you must be in shock. I’ll drive up and get you. It’ll be a while before you can leave anyway. You could try looking for the name of her own doctor and they’ll want to know the hospital where she had the op.’

  The idea of going through Lorna’s things appalled me, but I knew she’d be horrified if the ambulance crew found the place in what she would call a mess. So I picked up Dad’s photo, wiped it on the duvet, and replaced it and the water glass on the dressing table in the corner. Then I spotted the slip of paper.

  The fountain pen she’d used sat beside it. The paper was folded in half and I hesitated for only a moment. As I read, my eyes focused and unfocused on a few phrases. Clare, sorry, no other way. I took a breath and forced myself to slow down, glancing from the mute body on the bed to her words in my hand.

  Clare.

  I’m so sorry I have to do this, but I can see no other way. I can’t keep a secret like this to myself any longer. Guilt is a corrosive emotion, I know that very well, and in the end the only solution is to face up to what you’ve done. I loved your father very much and I think this is what he would want me to do. But please believe me when I say that I also love you.

  I hope you can accept that this is for the best.

  With fondest love,

  Lorna

  For what seemed hours after that, I stood in the kitchen staring out at the grey courtyard, my fantasy of Italian warmth seeming as ridiculous now as the single magpie strutting and preening on the stone bench.

  It wasn’t until the third long ring that I registered the doorbell. I folded the letter and put it in my pocket then let the ambulance crew in, pointing to the bedroom, and standing back to let them brush by me. I hovered in the hallway watching as the man looked at Lorna, then knelt beside her, glancing back at his colleague with an expression that said there was no rush.

  The woman turned and led me into the living room. ‘You need to sit down, love,’ she said. When I’d done so she asked about my relationship to the lady and what I knew about her health.

  I told her about the operation and the name of the hospital. ‘So I imagine she was on some kind of medication.’ My voice came from far, far away, but the woman just rubbed my hand and told me to sit quietly for a while. I listened to their voices carrying softly from the bedroom, while Lorna’s note crackled in my pocket.

  Alice insisted on taking me to Beldon House and I couldn’t find the words to object. At least she didn’t try to talk much on the way, just said she’d arranged for Tom to stay over with Mark for the night.

  She lit a fire and in front of it, in a big armchair, I tried to sip some soup. She sat opposite, and when I placed the bowl on the side table she leaned forward. ‘I can see you don’t want to talk and I don’t blame you. It can all wait till morning. Just go up and get some sleep.’

  I felt as
if I was coming to myself after a long delirium. ‘She left a note.’

  Alice leaned closer, blue eyes flickering with sparks of red from the fire. ‘What?’

  I passed her the paper and she slumped back so heavily the armchair creaked. ‘Oh, my God.’

  ‘So it is what I think – a suicide note?’

  ‘Certainly looks like it. Where was it?’

  ‘On her dressing table.’

  ‘Clare, you should have left it there.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking straight for one thing and for another, it would have meant involving the police.’

  ‘You’re not thinking of destroying it, are you?’

  I took the note from her, hating Lorna for being so enigmatic. ‘No, but I don’t understand it. Why she would want to kill herself?’

  Alice held out a mug and I found myself taking it and drinking the coffee I didn’t want and trying to focus on what she was saying. ‘I’ve seen a few suicides and the motives are never that clear-cut. One thing we know about Lorna, much as we loved her, is that she was secretive.’

  ‘She talks about guilt and facing up to what you’ve done.’ I wasn’t sure if I was speaking the words or if they were just thoughts. ‘I’ve been asking about the accident.’

  I smoothed the paper on the arm of my chair. Alice didn’t speak and I thought of the scenario I’d mapped out – the one that blamed her. Now it took on another complexion altogether and I saw a new puzzle take shape, one where the pieces fitted just as well for Lorna as for Alice.

  She was looking at me with gentle eyes.

  ‘There are things I haven’t told you,’ I said. ‘Things I’ve remembered. I know I saw two people immediately after the accident.’

  ‘So you were awake when Mr Hillier got there?’ Her voice was very quiet.

  ‘No. I think it might have been Lorna.’ I told her the theory I’d been putting together: the one that implicated her, but worked just as well for Lorna.