Blood Sisters(94)

‘That’s not necessarily true, love. Don’t you think I blame myself too for letting Kitty be so spoilt? If she hadn’t, you might not have … well … you know …’ Mum looks at me pleadingly.

After she’s gone, I go into the toilets and move the loose tile behind one of the loos. It’s still there. The toothbrush I have melted down thanks to a box of matches which Angela found me. (‘Don’t ask how I got it, love. Just take it.’) Bit by bit, I have shaped the end of the toothbrush so it is nice and sharp.

Then I cut myself. A nice clean score line. Not enough to do real damage. But enough to make my skin sing with pain.

It’s the least I can do. Especially after what Mum has told me.

Because if this machine works and Kitty ‘talks’, the real truth will be out.





73


January 2018


Kitty


The new machine was an advanced version of her picture board, apparently. Or so Dr White had explained. ‘Some people find it works better when there is an external stimulus such as a picture of a familiar object or a photograph. We’ve incorporated a screen that can display personal images or videos from a flash drive. So, for example, we might show a picture of someone you know and your brain will be able to say what you think of that person.’

She laughed. ‘We had one little boy who – when a picture of his mum came up – said that she talked too much and that it gave him a headache! So we must all prepare ourselves for some home truths!’

Kitty had wet herself with fear. There was so much pee that it went straight through her pad.

‘Sometimes,’ the doctor had continued, ‘pregnancy and birth can stimulate the brain. Your mother says you’ve been faster with the picture board than usual since your baby. Do you think you can remember more things now, Kitty?’

Nod your head, she told herself fiercely. Then it might go from side to side.

Yes! She made it say a No!

‘That’s not always very reliable,’ said Friday Mum.

‘Never mind,’ Dr White had said. ‘It’s definitely worth a go.’

They didn’t have to wait long for the appointment. ‘Johnny’s family are still paying,’ said Friday Mum, sniffing. ‘Feeling guilty, as well they might. After all, Kitty is their grandchild’s mother.’

The only good thing was that it meant a whole day away from little Vanessa’s screams. One of Friday Mum’s neighbours was going to look after her. Ever since they’d left the hospital and moved into Friday Mum’s little cottage, Kitty had been finding the baby more and more annoying. She thought her daughter was quite sweet when she was asleep. But when she woke, all she did was yell. And there weren’t any nurses to come and take her away. Only her and Friday Mum. So a day out would be good. Rather like the trips they used to have from the home. Except that she had to be careful when she saw those pictures. Very careful.

The special van which Call Me Jeannie had bought when Kitty and Johnny married was coming to get her. It had arrived now. Up the ramp. ‘Here we go. Isn’t this fun!’

Why did everyone always treat her like a fucking child?

There was something else too that was nagging away in her head. Where exactly was Half a Sister Ali? Was she all right?

Dr White from the hospital was there. She had a very wide mouth that sang as it spoke. She also talked as if Kitty was a real person. ‘Did you have a good journey? How is your lovely little baby? Do you like living with your mother by the sea now?’

But she didn’t seem to expect any answers. She talked while someone else wheeled her in front of this really cool machine that looked like a portable TV. Perhaps they were going to watch EastEnders. This time she didn’t have to take off her helmet, thank goodness.

‘I know you used to play the violin,’ said the doctor brightly. ‘So I thought we’d start with this.’

A picture of a violin flashed up in front of her.

Surprised, Kitty banged her good hand against her chair. She’d hated playing that fucking violin.

‘She does that sometimes,’ said Friday Mum. ‘Usually when she’s cross.’

‘Violin fuck off.’

Bloody hell, where had that voice come from? It didn’t sound like her. It was all tinny and like a robot. But it said what was in her head all right.

‘Kitty!’ Friday Mum’s voice was horrified.

But Dr White laughed. ‘It’s all right. We see this all the time with brain injuries. Swearing is quite common. So is the rather odd grammar. Over time, the thought-recognition software will learn Kitty’s brain patterns and reproduce her thoughts more accurately.’ She returned her attention to her patient. ‘OK, Kitty, so you hated the violin. What about this?’

There was a picture of a shop with nice clothes in the window. How she wished she could wear them rather than the horrible baggy tops and trousers they put her in. ‘Pretty clothes. Mmmmmm. My clothes crap.’

‘Kitty!’ said Friday Mum again. ‘I mean … well, it’s amazing to hear you talk but you’re so … so different. And you sound so … aware, considering … well, considering the damage.’

‘This can happen.’ The doctor was clearly excited. ‘Many people with brain injuries are lucid at times and not at others. Each person is different. What about this little girl in the next picture, Kitty? Do you recognize her?’