My Sister's Bones(73)

I turn on my side and look out of the window. I can smell garlic coming from downstairs. Paul will be cooking another meal that I won’t eat. We’ll sit in front of the telly and then I’ll come back up here, try to sleep, then it will start all over again. Another empty day. But as I lie here I see Kate’s body lying in some morgue in a foreign country. I’ve got to face the truth. My sister is not missing, she’s dead and she needs a proper burial. I jump up from the bed. I might have let Hannah down but I still have a chance to do the right thing by Kate; give her a decent send-off. As I pull on my dressing gown and go to the bathroom, my head feels a little clearer.

It’s time to bring her home.





34


Paul looks shocked when I walk into the kitchen. I’ve washed my hair, changed into some clean clothes, and I now smell of lavender instead of sweat and booze.

‘Hello, love,’ he says, kissing me on the cheek. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come down. I’ve made a lasagne. Would you like some?’

‘Just a little bit,’ I say, pulling out a chair to sit down.

‘I bet you feel better for having a bath,’ he says as he flits about getting plates and cutlery together.

‘I feel clean, not better,’ I reply. I’ve only been in the room for a couple of minutes and already he’s making me feel tense.

‘Clean is a good start,’ he says, putting a plate in front of me. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

I look up quickly but he’s offering fizzy water not Chardonnay. I nod my head and he pours it into my glass.

‘I wanted to discuss Kate’s body,’ I say as he sits down in the chair opposite me. ‘What do we need to do to get it back?’

‘I’m not sure,’ he says, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘There’ll be a repatriation process to go through and that could take weeks. If they find her body, that is.’

‘They haven’t found her body?’ I say, sitting up in my chair. ‘So there is still a chance she could be alive?’

‘Sally,’ he says, putting his hand on my arm. He always does this if I raise my voice even slightly. ‘She’s not alive.’

‘How do you know?’ I cry, pushing his hand away. ‘She could be out there, injured, in need of help, and we’re sitting here eating bloody lasagne.’

‘There were no survivors,’ he says. ‘The place they were staying in took a direct hit. When they say missing . . . well, I didn’t want to go into detail because it’s not something you want to hear.’

‘You didn’t want to go into detail?’ I cry. ‘I’m not a bloody child, Paul. Of course I want to know what happened to my sister. Stop *footing around and just tell me.’

He puts his fork down and sighs.

‘Are you sure you want to know?’

‘Yes,’ I reply, my stomach churning.

‘Well,’ he says. ‘The MoD said that the explosion was so huge a lot of the bodies would have been . . . obliterated.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying there may not be a body to bring back.’

His words are like bullets tearing into my skin. My sister; my beautiful, brave sister. I try to imagine her final moments and hope it was quick, that she didn’t suffer.

‘So we can’t give her a funeral?’ I say as I sit watching Paul spoon a heap of meaty stodge on to my plate. ‘We just have to leave her out there in . . . in bits?’

He puts the spoon down and rubs my arm again.

‘You’ll have your memories,’ he says. ‘She’ll always be alive up here.’ He taps his forehead and smiles and it’s such a stupid, patronizing smile, I want to rip it from his face.

‘You have no idea, you idiot,’ I yell as I jump up from the table and run up the stairs. ‘No idea at all.’

I’m back on the bed, lying in the darkness and thinking of Kate’s blasted body, when he comes in and turns on the light.

‘You know something, Sally, I’m getting a bit sick of this,’ he says, sitting down heavily on the bed.

‘Oh, will you please just go away,’ I say.

‘No, I will not just go away,’ he shouts, grabbing my wrist. He is squeezing tightly and it hurts. ‘I’m not some pest you can just click your fingers at and make disappear.’

‘Paul, stop it, you’re hurting me,’ I say, pulling my arm free.

I look at him. I hardly ever see him angry like this. His face is contorted, his nostrils flaring.

‘Look, I know you’re upset,’ he says. ‘But I’m sick of having to hold your hand through everything. I wanted a wife, not a bloody patient.’

‘My sister’s just died,’ I say, covering my face with my hands.

‘Yes,’ he shouts. ‘Your sister. A woman you cut out of your life because she said something you didn’t want to hear. That’s what you do to everyone, Sally. If you don’t like what they have to say you push them away.’

‘That’s not true,’ I say.

Why does he always take Kate’s side? Years ago I told him what she’d done and he still made excuses for her; said it was probably an accident. I’d felt guilty for telling him but I had to; I was sick of him talking about her like she was some saint. But it made no difference.