Forget Her Name(25)

Dominic is holding something in his cupped hands, like an offering.

It’s my sister’s snow globe.

My gaze lifts to his face. There’s nothing to be frightened of. I know that. This is Dominic and I love him. We’re going to be husband and wife soon. I trust him with my life. Yet I’m afraid.

‘I don’t understand,’ I say, and hear the fright in my voice. I take a quick step back, stumbling, and come up against the cold seat of the toilet. ‘Dominic?’

‘This belonged to your sister,’ he says, still holding it out to me, ‘didn’t it? It was Rachel’s snow globe.’

‘Yes,’ I whisper.

‘Only you wanted it for yourself. You were jealous that she’d got this beautiful present from your dad. So you stole it from her.’

‘That’s not what happened.’

‘That’s not how you remember it, you mean.’

‘What?’

‘It’s okay.’ His voice softens, becomes reassuring, his gaze locked with mine. ‘I know all about the snow globe. I spoke to your dad on the phone earlier. He told me everything.’

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. ‘Everything?’

Dominic nods. ‘He told me how, when you were kids, you stole the snow globe from Rachel’s rucksack. Only you dropped it. There was a crack in the base, he said, and all the water drained out. So you put it back in her rucksack, and you didn’t admit that you’d taken it. You blamed her for breaking it instead.’

‘No.’

‘You lied to your parents about dropping it.’

‘No,’ I say again.

‘You lied because you saw a chance to get your sister into trouble. She’d been teasing you about your stutter, and you were angry. Blindingly angry. You wanted to get back at her.’

‘I didn’t need to do anything to get my sister into trouble. Rachel was perfectly capable of getting into trouble all on her own.’

He raises his eyebrows, looking at me in silence.

‘And I didn’t have a stutter,’ I add bitterly. ‘Rachel used to upset me so much, it made me n-nervous, that’s all.’

‘Of course.’ Again, Dominic nods, seeming to understand what I’m saying. Even to sympathise with me. Then he looks down at the snow globe. ‘But this did belong to her, didn’t it? You took it from your parents’ house tonight and then came up with a story about someone having sent it to you.’

‘It wasn’t a story.’

‘Okay. Though I didn’t notice it arriving, Catherine.’

‘It was sent to me at the food bank, not here. It came with the other parcel deliveries. Only it was addressed to me personally. You can ask Petra,’ I add. ‘Ask Sharon. They were there. They saw it arrive.’

‘Fair enough. So why not show me the snow globe at once?’ His gaze searches my face. The skin prickles on the back of my neck. ‘Why hide it under the sink like you’re ashamed of it?’

‘I didn’t know how you’d react,’ I say. ‘And from the way you’re being now, it’s obvious I was right to be worried.’

‘And how am I being?’

‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ I swallow hard, fighting an urge to cry. ‘We’re getting married in a few weeks. To have and to hold. Forever and ever.’

‘I know.’

‘Yet I tell you this, and you don’t believe me.’

‘In my defence, it’s not an easy story to believe. It’s . . . well, pretty far-fetched. Some anonymous person steals this from your dad’s house and sends it to you?’ He holds up the snow globe. ‘At the food bank where you’re volunteering?’ He hesitates. ‘I want to believe you. But you’re making it very hard for me.’

‘Look!’ I bend to the cupboard under the sink, tearing the door open so fiercely it almost wrenches the hinge off. The empty parcel is there at the front. Grabbing it, I shove the box towards him. ‘See? It’s addressed to me.’

He does not move, still looking straight at me. ‘Sender’s address?’

‘There isn’t one. And the label’s printed. Do you think I didn’t check those things? It was sent to me anonymously. But I know why.’ I let the box drop, since he refuses to take it. It falls on its side on the bathroom lino, white polystyrene chips spilling out. ‘He sent it to taunt me.’

His eyes narrow on my face. ‘He?’

‘My dad.’

‘Your dad?’ He looks bemused now. ‘Why on earth would your dad do something like that?’

‘Because he hates me.’

‘For God’s sake—’

‘He blames me for Rachel’s death,’ I burst out.

There’s a grim silence.

Dominic studies my face. Then his frown finally relaxes, as though he’s come to some unspoken conclusion. He offers me the snow globe again. This time I take it with unsteady hands.

The glass sphere is still warm from his touch. I look down at the Swiss chalets and snowy mountains, the tiny goat. Everything inside is damp and glittering, even though there’s no longer any water in it.

I remember the eyeball, and shudder.

‘Look, there’s something wrong here,’ Dominic says slowly, as if he’s trying to work things out on his own. ‘You told me Rachel died in an accident when you were kids.’