Ellie took all this in. ‘Did she still give me the food?’
‘Yes. Well, I assumed so. Later, when she said goodnight to me in my room, she told me it was a special medicine. Just for you. I said I thought it was the normal one, you know, the one I’d have too if I got a temperature or something, but she said I’d been mistaken. It was something the doctor had prescribed just for you and you wouldn’t like the taste so she put it in your food. And I wasn’t to tell you or you wouldn’t eat your dinner and then you wouldn’t get better.’
‘Did you believe her?’
‘I had to. What else could I have thought? I was a child myself.’
‘But this was years ago. Maybe you didn’t understand – you were young. Maybe it was something the doctors prescribed,’ said Ellie.
Abby shook her head, took a deep breath. ‘I heard something on the radio back in the spring. About mothers harming their children. It reminded me of what I’d seen all that time ago. And I started to think about it. I called Mum, confronted her. She tried to deny it of course. Said you were sick and needed the paracetamol. It was pretty clear she was lying – she got so flustered, and it just didn’t add up. And there was your constant sickness, the diarrhoea, your confusion, your yellowed skin. I kept on at her and so then she tried to play it down. Said it hadn’t happened that often. Sometimes she would give you enough medicine to keep you off school, but she was careful not to make it too much. She said she didn’t want you to have any long-term damage.’
It was almost too much to hear. ‘What?’ Ellie asked, anguished.
‘She was worried about liver damage,’ said Abby. ‘I know, I know, it seems nuts. So Mum would make you ill, then she’d reduce the dose a few days before you saw the doctors so they couldn’t trace it. I checked it out online. Seems if any overdose is staggered over a long period, paracetamol tests are impossible to interpret and they can be normal.’ Abby sighed. ‘Mum insisted I never say anything to you. I thought you had a right to know and she should tell you herself. She rang me a few days before your trip out here, pleaded with me again not to say anything.’
Ellie was silent as she took it all in. A lump was stuck in her throat and it was a while before she could talk.
‘I was ill for another two years. Until I was eight. Is that how long she was giving it to me?’ She was suddenly flooded with memories and didn’t see Abby glance away awkwardly.
‘God, the sickness,’ continued Ellie. ‘That’s what I hated the most. The nausea. I would dread it. And the missing out. I always felt like I’d just be watching everyone else have fun, feeling like the outsider.’ Her voice cracked. ‘The only thing that made it remotely bearable was having Mum. The way she looked after me. I felt like she loved me so much.’
‘She did. You know that you were her favourite.’
Ellie scoffed. ‘Funny way of showing it.’
‘She doted on you. Trust me, I remember. It was always about you.’ Abby paused. ‘I know it’s hard to understand but I think she needed you. Couldn’t stand it when you started school and left her alone.’
‘All kids leave their mothers when they start school!’
‘I know but . . . Dad had also left her. And her parents. I asked Grandma once why Mum never came on the visits with us. She said Mum had betrayed them and it wasn’t something she could forgive. Did they ever speak to her again after she ran off with Dad?’
Ellie shrugged but she didn’t think so. She wanted to know for certain, wanted to ask questions that would take away some of the shock. She wanted to ask her mother. Ellie was suddenly overwhelmed with a crushing sense of abandonment as she realized she’d never know the whole truth.
My mum hurt me. The thought kept on going round and round in her mind. And yet the loss was almost unbearable; Ellie couldn’t reconcile the two different people in her head: the one who’d deliberately made her ill with the one who’d been so supportive, who’d encouraged her when she was low – right on into adulthood, even as Abby was racing ahead in life. Her mother – that beautiful, wonderful woman who’d been by her side her whole life – was dead, and it was her fault.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Abby.
‘What for?’
‘If I’d said something, told a teacher or something . . .’
Ellie stiffened. As much as she wanted to lay some of the blame at Abby’s feet, she couldn’t really. She had to remember that Abby had been a child too.
‘You were only nine. You couldn’t have understood.’
‘I was then,’ said Abby quietly.
Ellie looked at her sharply. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I saw her again.’
A deep, sickening feeling was nestling in Ellie’s stomach. ‘When?’
‘Two years later. When I’d just started secondary school. When you were eight.’
Ellie’s mouth dropped open. ‘You what?’
‘I’m so sorry. I said to Mum it didn’t seem right. I told her I didn’t like it. She thought I was going to tell someone.’
‘And did you?’
‘No. I had no idea of the enormity, the severity of what she was doing. I was a kid. And anyway, she told me it would stop.’
‘What? And you believed her?’
‘Well, yes. I mean, she did. Stop.’
‘But how did you know she would? What if she’d carried on? Maybe she kept on poisoning me and you didn’t even know?’
‘I’m sure she didn’t. You got better, you stopped going to the doctor’s—’
‘But that’s not the point! I was already damaged. I needed help.’ Ellie was shouting now, crying with despair. ‘I thought I was stupid. That I’d never catch up. I thought I’d get ill again. I always thought that. Don’t you see? I could’ve been different! If you’d said something!’ She rained her fists down on Abby’s shoulder.
‘Stop it!’ said Abby, trying to simultaneously push Ellie’s hands away and hold on to the steering wheel. ‘I’m sorry!’
Ellie heard the apology but instead of soothing her, it inflamed her further. There was something so inadequate about those words, something that was so disproportionate to the years of misery that she’d suffered. She continued to rain blows down on Abby. ‘You just carried on, looking out for yourself. But what about me? I could’ve been differen—’
The noise was like an explosion, the deafening bang of flattened steel. Ellie lunged forward, the seat belt slicing across her shoulder, and her face hit the white pillow with a force that winded her, and then everything was quiet.
She lay there for a moment, gulping for breath, panicking that she couldn’t take in any oxygen; then, as the airbag deflated, her lungs seemed to regain control.
‘Shit!’ said Abby, unbuckling and wrestling with her door.
Ellie looked up and through the broken windscreen saw stones strewn across the bonnet. The car was on the wrong side of the road, a disintegrated wall splattered over it. She extricated herself from her seat, went outside to join Abby. The whole front end on the driver’s side was crunched in, a tangle of steel and exposed innards. The two sisters gazed at it.
‘That looks bad,’ said Ellie.
‘You reckon?’ snapped Abby. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing, attacking me like that?’
‘I’m sorry.’
Abby cut her a fierce look and went back to the car. Ellie watched as her sister brushed the broken glass off the driver’s seat, then got in and attempted to start the engine. It turned over sluggishly, then not at all.
‘Brilliant,’ said Abby, smacking the steering wheel. ‘Just brilliant.’
Ellie walked over and stood next to Abby by the driver’s side. ‘I said I was sorry.’
‘Sorry isn’t going to make this car start!’
‘You’ve cut yourself,’ said Ellie, pointing at her sister’s hand. ‘Here.’ She pulled out a pack of cosmetic wipes from her bag, peeled one off and handed it through the open window to Abby. Abby hesitated, then took it and dabbed at her han
d. The cut wasn’t deep and was already clotting.
‘Why do you buy these things when water does just as good a job?’ said Abby, of the wipe.
Ellie bristled; she knew what was coming. ‘Because you never know when you might be in a car crash and a bottle of water isn’t readily available?’
‘It’s another example,’ said Abby, still dabbing, ‘of not being smart with your money.’
For God’s sake! Ellie could feel the irritation rising up in her. Even now, right here, straight after an accident, Abby could put her down. She wrestled to find a comeback, but could think of none.
‘Give it back.’
Abby looked up. ‘What?’
Ellie held out her hand. ‘Give it back.’
‘What, this?’ Abby was waving the soiled wipe in disbelief.
‘Yes, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to have it.’ Ellie leaned over to grab it but Abby pulled away.
‘You’re not serious.’
‘Deadly.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’
‘That wipe saved your bacon and all you can do is . . . complain and not recognize when spending a few quid can actually have a profound effect on your life.’
Abby was trying not to smile. ‘Profound?’
‘You know what I mean.’ Ellie pulled a face at her sister. Then sighed; it was all too exhausting. ‘What do we do now?’
Abby considered. ‘The car’s fucked,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ agreed Ellie.
Abby got out and, shutting the driver’s door, she looked up and down the road. Then she walked to the back of the car. She popped the boot and took out the holdall and suitcase she’d put in there earlier.
‘I guess we walk,’ said Abby. ‘See if we can find a village or something.’
Ellie nodded, then the two sisters, the late sun on their backs, continued along the road.
SIXTEEN
‘I think I can see a house,’ said Ellie, pointing up ahead. They had been going for forty minutes and she was ready for a break. Her right leg was tingling with pins and needles and she knew she needed to rest before it became too difficult to walk.
‘Hallelujah,’ said Abby. She strode on ahead, Ellie following, and within a few minutes they had crossed a small stone bridge into a hamlet where a smattering of houses led to a restaurant. Peering in at the windows, they saw it was closed, the chairs stacked up on the tables. Abby gazed around the streets. It was quiet. They were in that no-man’s-land time that fell post lunch and before the day’s heat had waned. Then they saw a movement in the distance. A figure walked across what looked like a garage forecourt, weaving between several cars before disappearing into a hut-like office.
‘Bingo,’ said Abby softly.
The girls headed over. Abby tucked her bag behind a wall and placed Ellie’s suitcase next to it. ‘Don’t want any awkward questions,’ she said. Then she went over to the office and opened the door. Ellie stayed outside and, sitting on the wall, she rubbed her leg, trying to ease the numbness.
She gazed around the forecourt. There were only a dozen or so cars, mostly Fiats, although a black Alfa Romeo Spider had pride of place right at the front of the plot. It gleamed in the sunshine – a car that had attitude. There was a sign propped up on the dashboard that was visible through the windscreen. It was for hire at an astronomical amount. Ellie felt the butterflies dance in her belly. They needed a new vehicle but would Abby be expecting them to go halves? Ellie could never afford that kind of money. She turned her back and, leaving the wall, went to look at the Fiats. They were all for rent and nearly all standard 500s. One was a convertible; a white roof was pushed back against the red bodywork. Ellie peered inside: the red paintwork continued on the dash too – and the seats were upholstered in white leather. Wouldn’t burn my bum on those, she thought, as Abby came outside with the proprietor of the business, a late-middle-aged Italian man with salt-and-pepper curly hair and a rotund belly. He saw Ellie over by the open-top Fiat and stopped for a moment, then brightened, his day markedly improved. He headed over.
‘This is our best car for you,’ he said to Abby in his accented English. ‘Perfect for two ladies.’
Abby glanced at the cardboard sign in the windscreen. ‘But it’s more expensive than the other 500s,’ she said. ‘And seeing as I’m paying . . .’
Ellie ignored the barb, secretly relieved she wasn’t expected to contribute.
‘Ah, but you have the roof,’ exclaimed the car dealer.
‘I don’t need the roof,’ said Abby.
‘Everyone needs a roof,’ said Ellie.
‘You like it, no?’ said the dealer, conspiratorially to Ellie.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ she replied wistfully.
‘We don’t need it,’ repeated Abby. ‘It’s spending money we don’t need to spend.’
Ellie and the dealer exchanged a glance and Ellie shrugged.
‘Advertisers tell you that you need the wind in your hair. I just need to get from A to B,’ said Abby.
‘Jeez, live a little,’ said Ellie, under her breath.
‘What about that blue one there?’ asked Abby, pointing at another car further along the forecourt, an ordinary Fiat 500 without an open roof.
‘That one is gone,’ said the dealer.
‘It’s right there.’
‘I mean, it is reserved.’
‘OK, that white one next to it.’
‘Also reserved.’
Abby frowned. ‘The green one? I suppose that is reserved too?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ said the dealer gravely. He gave a surreptitious wink to Ellie, who pretended not to see.
Abby let out a sound of frustration. ‘This is . . . extortion,’ she seethed.
The dealer looked apologetic. ‘I can do little discount,’ he said and, looking at Ellie, added, ‘especially for two such lovely ladies.’
‘At least the weather’s nice,’ said Ellie, tilting her face towards the sky and closing her eyes, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted. As she did so, an image of her mother’s body on the terrace came into her mind and, sickened, she quickly opened her eyes again. They were behind the wheel in the red Fiat, top down, cruising through the Tuscan countryside.
‘He robbed me,’ said Abby.
‘You heard what he said – it was the only one.’
‘He was lying. All because you wanted this one.’
‘You think?’ Ellie tutted. ‘That’s naughty.’ She hid a small smile. ‘Lucky I didn’t go all gooey over the Spider.’
The light was fading. As the sky darkened, sunless and foreboding, the guilt and the sadness stalked Ellie with a vengeance. She stared out of the window, watching her mother’s last day fade into black. Beside her, Abby shifted uncomfortably. It was becoming clear they needed to stop – Ellie had noticed for some time now that Abby was tiring. And anyway, they couldn’t just keep on driving – they had no idea of where they were heading. As they came into the next village, Abby said what Ellie was thinking.
‘Maybe we should find a place to stay for the night. Figure out what to do.’
They booked themselves into a B & B just off the village square, then took a table in the small dining room for dinner. There were only two other guests there, a young backpacking couple from Germany who hunkered up together poring over guidebooks.
Ellie and Abby sat as far away from them as they could. Ellie spoke first, before Abby could say anything. ‘I need to turn myself in.’
‘What? No!’
‘But there’s no other way. And I deserve it.’
‘You do not,’ said Abby emphatically, keeping her voice low. ‘Are you forgetting what she did to you?’
‘Doesn’t mean I needed to do what I did,’ said Ellie, upset. ‘Push her like that.’
Abby rested her hand on her sister’s across the table. ‘You didn’t mean for that to happen,’ she said. ‘You didn’t go out of your way to hurt her.’
‘No, but—’
‘It was
an accident.’
A tear rolled down Ellie’s cheek and she quickly wiped it away. Abby glanced around the room, made sure the backpackers weren’t watching.
‘Maybe it could look just like that. An accident,’ said Abby carefully.
‘What are you getting at?’
‘Maybe Susanna didn’t want to come to the Tuscan mainland with us on our little sightseeing trip, maybe she opted to stay at home.’ Abby shrugged. ‘She fell and hit her head.’
Ellie gasped. ‘We can’t say that!’
‘I realize there is the problem with the three glasses.’ Ellie looked blank. ‘On the tray,’ explained Abby. ‘The police will find broken shards from three glasses, not one.’
‘Oh God,’ said Ellie, her face in her hands.
‘Did she grab you in any way?’
‘No. What . . . you’re thinking self-defence?’
Abby deflated. ‘I was, but . . .’
‘What?’
‘Well, we ran. It doesn’t look great.’
‘But . . .’
‘I know, that was my idea. But I . . . I panicked. I wanted to get you away.’
‘But if we’d stayed . . .’
‘You’d still be going to prison.’
Ellie’s eyes widened in shock.
‘Yes, prison,’ repeated Abby. ‘There’s no beating around the bush here, it’s manslaughter.’
‘Oh jeez,’ said Ellie, her voice cracking.
‘Now come on. Don’t do that, don’t cry,’ said Abby urgently. ‘Stop it, people will see.’
Ellie got a tissue, blew her nose.
‘If anyone should have gone to prison, it’s her for what she did to you. Just you remember that.’
‘So what do we do?’ asked Ellie helplessly.
‘I don’t know,’ said Abby. Ellie started to crumple again. ‘I’ll think of something,’ Abby added quickly. ‘Let’s sleep on it. I’ll think of something.’
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