Good Me Bad Me(85)

I nod.

‘Yes, I was there and back in about five minutes. I went to the newsagent, the one just across the road from the school.’

‘Nowhere else? You didn’t go anywhere else?’

‘No. Nowhere else, Mike.’

We sit in silence. I work hard to maintain eye contact. He breaks it first, leans forward, screws the top on the bottle of whisky, a signal it’s over for now. The detail of people, the details I notice.

‘It’s late, Milly, you should go to bed. I need some time on my own.’

I turn round at the door just before I leave his study. One of his hands rests on the top of Phoebe’s laptop, the other on the desk, fingers pointing, subconsciously maybe, in the direction of the phone.

‘Mike, you need to give me my medication, and Saskia too. We need you.’





Up twenty-eight. Up another floor.


The banister on the right.


If I hadn’t seen the text flash up on the screen of her phone, abandoned next to the kettle during breakfast, Phoebe at the table.

Everything would have been different.

Everything.

‘Come on, you sly beatch, what do you mean by D-day for Dog-face tomorrow?’ read the message.

Sender: Izzy

I left the scenery painting in the Great Hall to go and buy snacks for everybody.

True.

The newsagent was the only place I went to.

False.

I ran all the way, five if you rush, less if you sprint.

I went up the stairs, up twenty-eight, up another floor, the banister on the right. She was there. Screamed when she saw me.

Boo.

She went into her room, kicked the door shut behind her, I followed. Get out, she said. Get away from me.

I took a step towards her. What are you doing, she asked.

Another step. She pushed past me, said, I’m calling Dad.

I didn’t chase her, she would have run down the stairs,

I didn’t want that. I walked out of her room. She was on the landing, half sitting, half leaning on the banister.

Her safe place, from where she enjoyed tormenting her mother.

Fingerprints, hers, visible on the varnish. Fear as sweat, prickling her pores. Overflowing. She was about to hit the call button.

Distracted.

Her, not me.

Another step towards her.

When somebody says it’ll be the death of you. Believe them.

A second was all it took.

She was silent as she fell.

The Spanish tiles painted a new colour, her hair too.

I ran all the way back, bearing goods for everyone from the newsagent when I arrived.

The officer’s questions later on that night. Routine stuff really, he said.

No amount of training prepares them for the potential of children.

Oh Lord of the Flies.

I promised to be the best I could.

I promised to try.

Mike.

A kindly man.

I told him everything.

Well.

Almost everything.

Forgive me.