My Sister's Bones(62)

He kisses my cheek but I feel nothing. My body goes limp as he carries me through the room and back into the conservatory.

‘She’s not dead,’ I tell him as he puts me down in the chair. ‘If she was dead I would know.’

‘It’s a big shock,’ he says, putting his hand on my forehead. ‘A lot to take in . . .’

‘I said she’s not dead,’ I yell, pushing him away. ‘Now just piss off and leave me alone.’

‘Look, Sally,’ he says, ‘I think I should stay with you, at least for a bit. You’re in shock.’

‘Didn’t you hear me? I said I want to be alone.’

‘Okay,’ he says, stepping towards the door. ‘Whatever you wish.’

‘And close those bloody blinds,’ I say. ‘The sun’s giving me a headache.’

I hear his footsteps on the wooden floor as he goes to the window.

‘Is that better?’ he asks as the light disappears and I nod my head, glad of the darkness.

‘Shout if you need me,’ he says, and as he closes the door, I think of Kate, slamming her fists on the table when Dad was having a go at Mum. It’s just not right, I tell myself, as I sink back into the chair. How can she be dead and I still be here? She was the strong one, the fighter. It’s just not possible. He must be wrong.

I need a drink.

I put my hand down the side of the chair and feel about in the darkness for the bottle of wine I hid last night. My hand rests on it and I pull it up. I don’t have a glass but I don’t need one. Unscrewing the top, I take a long glug. It’s warm and slightly sour but it will do the trick. I just need to numb the pain in the pit of my stomach.

It’s dark outside now. I have no idea what time it is. I’ve finished the wine and I would kill for another bottle. Paul has come in a couple of times to ask me if I want a cup of tea. I’ve told him I need a proper drink but he won’t listen to me. Just keeps saying I’m in shock.

Is that what this is?

As I sit here in the dark, all I can think about is Kate. I see her with Mum, standing at the end of my bed the day Hannah was born. Mum was making a fuss about me getting the latch right and making sure I winded Hannah properly but Kate just stood there staring at the baby. It was like she was looking at some strange creature. I knew exactly how she felt because Hannah might as well have been an alien for all I knew about babies. I was just a child myself.

Eventually I told her to sit down and while Mum went to get some tea the two of us watched Hannah as she slept in the plastic crib. At one point I turned to Kate and said: ‘What do I do with it?’ And she looked at me for a moment, then shrugged and said, ‘Don’t ask me.’ And we both burst out laughing. When Mum came back in she asked what was so funny but we were too cracked up to answer her.

Three weeks later she left for university and never came back. That moment in the hospital was one of the few times we bonded. For as long as I can remember Kate had been the better sister, the clever one, the brave one, and I could never live up to her, but for a few moments as we sat looking at Hannah sleeping in her cot we were just a pair of giggly, clueless schoolgirls.

Then I remember something. She phoned me. It was just before she left for Syria. I try to piece together what was said but I can only recall snippets. I must’ve been drunk. I can remember she said she was at the station – or was it the airport? I vaguely remember being angry at her for leaving again. I should have just bloody listened. What was she trying to say to me? It’s no use. I can’t remember.

And now she’s gone and I will never hear her voice again.

As I blink away the memory of the phone call my thoughts turn to Hannah. I wonder where she is. If only she would get in touch. She needs to know about her gran and now her aunt Kate. Why does she have to be so stubborn? And then I hear her voice in my head. Just let me go, Mum. I’m pulling at her wrist, begging her to get back in the house. And then it all goes black and I will myself to remember what happened next but I can’t. I just can’t.

‘Sally.’

I look up. He’s standing at the door in his dressing gown.

‘Come on, love, it’s gone midnight,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you come up to bed?’

‘I’m not tired,’ I say.

‘You’ve been in that chair all day,’ he says. He steps into the room and goes to turn the lamp on.

‘Leave it,’ I shout, anger and grief and resentment rising up my gullet. ‘Just bloody leave it, will you?’

He pauses with the cord from the lamp in his hand.

‘Sitting here like this, not moving, not speaking, is not going to bring Kate back,’ he says, letting the cord drop. ‘If you shut me out it’s only going to make things worse. We can talk about it. I’m here for you, Sally. I’m here to listen.’

‘I have nothing to say to you,’ I reply.

His voice is setting my nerves right on edge. I need to be alone with my memories of Kate. I need to make sense of all of this but him coming in all the time just distracts me and makes me feel like I can’t breathe.

‘You’ll regret it in the morning,’ he says. ‘If you sleep in that chair you’ll be stiff all over.’

‘Well, that’s up to me, isn’t it?’ I say. ‘Now, please just go to bed and leave me be.’