His & Hers(87)

Her



Friday 15:00



I watch him walk away, then dry my face and press the little red button by the side of my bed. A middle-aged nurse comes in to see me within a couple of minutes, and I’m glad; I don’t have any time to waste. She has a pixie haircut and big green eyes, accentuated with lashings of liquid liner that has smudged a little. I notice that she looks at least ten years older than the photo on her badge.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

“I need to leave the hospital.”

Her face pauses while her mind plays catch-up, processing what I’ve just said.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

Her patronizing tone makes me like her less than I did a moment ago.

“Probably not, but it’s what I’m going to do. Thank you, for everything, but I really need to go now. Are there some forms you need me to sign to say I’m discharging myself?”

It isn’t the first time I’ve done this; I know the drill. I can’t stand being in hospitals—the stench of death and despair—and there are things I need to do that can’t wait.

“Let me go and get the doctor,” the nurse says.

The doctor will try to persuade me to stay, no doubt, but it’s pointless. Once my mind is made up about something, there really isn’t anyone who can change it. Including myself.

Plus, I could really use a drink.

As soon as the nurse is out of sight, I reach for the locker next to my bed and take out my bag. I know there isn’t any alcohol left inside, but that isn’t what I’m looking for.

I’m pleased to see that the knife that killed them all is still there.




It was important to make myself look like a victim, in order for everyone to believe my story, but the facts speak for themselves. I was in the woods the night Rachel died, I was at the school when Helen was killed, I was in the house the day Zoe was murdered, and I was there when Richard was bludgeoned to death. Cat Jones being crushed between a car and a tree before being shot was not part of the original plan, but it did the job. There is no such thing as coincidence, and yet they all believed me.

I was so convincing in the hospital, I almost believed myself.

The lies we tell ourselves are always the most dangerous. I think it’s instinct; self-preservation is a fundamental part of our DNA. We are a species of liars, and sometimes we deliberately connect the dots in the wrong order, and pretend to make sense of what we see. We stretch the stories of our lives to fit our own desired narratives, presenting a prettier picture for those around us. Honesty loses every time to a lie less ordinary, and truth is overrated. Far better to make it up than to make do.

The world of make-believe isn’t just for children. Like shoes, the stories we tell about ourselves get bigger with age. When we grow out of one, we make up another.

I did what I had to do.





Six Months Later





Him





I’ll admit that looking after a toddler on my own was far harder than I ever anticipated, but I’m coping. I think. Just about. I relied quite heavily on neighbors and the kindness of strangers those first few weeks. There were people who knew my niece far better than I did, through nursery and various classes my sister used to take her to. They were a huge help, but it was still difficult. Things are getting easier, and the new normal is starting to feel like a good fit.

The first thing I did after Zoe’s funeral was sell my parents’ house. It wasn’t easy; buyers weren’t too keen on a rural family home where someone was murdered in the bathtub. But it sold eventually—for far less than it was worth—to a development company who will no doubt knock it down. I can live with that, though. Sometimes starting again is the only option.

Work was pretty understanding. I was given compassionate leave and then allowed to apply for a part-time position in London. A new role I suspect my old boss might have created just for me. Human beings are most empathetic when bad things happen to people they know. Perhaps because when the unthinkable happens to friends or family, it makes you realize it could happen to you. I just knew I had to get away from Blackdown, for good this time, and I’m pleased that they managed to find such a wonderful replacement to head up the MCT unit in my absence. Priya will do a great job, and she deserves the promotion.

It isn’t all good.

I have my fair share of dark times, and there are things I have seen that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

I try not to think about what I’ve lost.

For now, all I can do is take one day at a time, and try to hold on to what I’ve got left.

Sometimes you have to lose a lot to remember how much you have.





Her





“A reminder of our main news again this lunchtime. The former president has been seen in public for the first time since leaving the White House, scientists warn that bees may face extinction in less than a decade, and we’ll leave you with some pictures of the baby panda born at Edinburgh Zoo this morning. You can see more over on the BBC News Channel, but from all of us on the One O’Clock News team, good afternoon.”

I smile for the camera, tap my papers on the desk, and wait for the little red light to disappear. As soon as we’re off-air, I swing by the debrief and listen politely to the rest of the team as they talk about today’s show. I’m so happy to be back where I belong, presenting the lunchtime bulletin. Nobody cares who you used to be; it’s only who you are now that counts. Like yesterday’s news, old versions of a person are easily forgotten. These people really are my surrogate family, but after everything that has happened, I’ve remembered that I do have a real one too.