Sometimes I Lie(75)

Paul’s phone buzzes on the bedside table. He reaches over, reads it, then stares at me.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘You’ve got a visitor.’

I feel myself start to fade.

‘Who?’

‘Claire.’ He waits a while for me to say something, but I don’t. ‘Is that OK? You don’t have to see her if you don’t want to. You don’t have to see anyone. But whatever happened between the two of you, I know she’s very sorry.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘OK. She’s in the car park, so she’ll be a few minutes. I’ll tell her to come up.’ I look away while he texts my sister. Paul doesn’t know that I remember what happened that night. I haven’t decided what to do yet, how much of it I should pretend not to know.

‘Can I get you anything else?’ Paul asks.

‘I’d love a glass of wine,’ I reply.

He laughs, it’s a great sound. ‘I’m sure you would, but I think it might still be a tiny bit too soon for grape juice. One day at a time.’

He takes the tray and leaves it on the floor just outside, as though this is a hotel room and we’ve been ordering room service. I’d like to go somewhere, when this is over. Run away from real life for just a little while. Any place where you can feel the sun by day and see the stars at night. The door is open but she knocks on it anyway.

‘Hi,’ she says, waiting to be invited before coming any closer.

‘Come in,’ says Paul.

‘How are you?’ she asks looking between the two of us, but meaning me.

‘I’m OK,’ I say.

Paul gets up from his chair. ‘Right, well. I might just pop out for a bit, leave you two to catch up?’

I nod to let him know I’m all right. Claire and I stare at each other, a silent conversation already taking place behind our eyes. She sits in the chair Paul has vacated and waits until she’s sure he’s far away enough from the room not to hear.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, eventually.

‘What for?’

‘All of it.’





Before

Sunday, 14th February 1993


Dear Diary,

Today is Valentine’s Day. I didn’t get any cards but I don’t care about that. I have a family now, a proper one and that’s all I ever wanted. I’ve even got a new name. Claire Taylor. I think it sounds nice. I call Taylor’s mum ‘Mum’ and I call Taylor’s dad ‘Dad’ and I think they like it. I like it. Everyone likes it apart from Taylor. She sulked all morning today, playing with the doll I gave her in her bedroom like a little girl. She calls the doll Emily and sits and talks to her when she thinks nobody can hear.

After lunch I asked to go to my room and Mum said yes. I said I wanted to read my new book and she believed me. Because it is a Sunday, we had a roast dinner. We always have a roast on Sundays. Today we had chicken, a whole one, with roast potatoes and puddings from Yorkshire and lots of gravy. I ate all of mine, Taylor left most of hers. I would have eaten that too but I was already so full up I thought I might burst. I could hear Mum asking Taylor what was wrong as I climbed up the staircase. They’re always asking her what is wrong and it makes me so cross. Nothing is wrong. She should be just as happy as I am and stop spoiling things.

I passed Taylor’s bedroom on the way to my own and spotted Emily sitting on the bed, her glass eyes looking right at me. I remembered choosing her on one of the visits with the social worker, she was mine really and I could take her back if I wanted to. I had never seen a doll like her before, so real looking. She had shiny black hair, pink cheeks and a pretty blue dress with matching shoes. She looked precious. Perfect. I didn’t like her. I don’t remember picking her up or taking her to my room. I only remember looking down and seeing the compass from my pencil case in my hand and Emily on my lap, with her eyes all scratched out.

I wasn’t sure what to do after that, so I took Emily by the hand and went out into the front garden. I’m too old to play with dolls so I put Emily down. In the road. Her little feet tucked into the kerb. I still felt very full from lunch so I sat down on the front lawn and pulled out little tufts of grass with my fingers. The sun was shining and the sky was blue but it was cold. I didn’t mind though. I wanted to be outside, I wanted to see.

I got that feeling you get when you know that someone is watching you and turned back to look at the house. Taylor was there in the upstairs window of her bedroom looking down at us both. Her eyes moved from me to the doll and back again. She turned away and I wondered if she would cry, she was always crying lately.

The first car didn’t touch Emily at all and I felt cross about it, cars don’t drive down our road all that often. Taylor was there in the garden in time to see the second car though, so that was good. It didn’t miss. Its front left tyre went over the doll’s face, her hair getting caught up in the wheel. I watched as she went round and under, round and under. The back left tyre went over her then too, but it left her where it found her, lying flat on the tarmac. Taylor stood next to me, still staring at the doll in the distance. Her face didn’t change, her body didn’t move, she just stood there. I carried on pulling out blades of grass, rolling them up between my fingers. I started humming a tune without even meaning to:

The wheels on the bus go round and round, all day long.