Girl Unknown(97)
An accident, she decides. That is the only solution. She slipped and fell backwards. A tragic fall.
Afterwards, she will think back to those moments again and again – standing by the pool, lost in thought. This was where her deception began. Later, she would lie to police officers, to solicitors, to social workers. But all of the lies came undone in the end, once they’d got Robbie alone: he picked up a pen and wrote out his confession. By that stage Zo? was lying cold in the morgue, and Robbie had not spoken a word in the twelve hours since he’d killed her.
Caroline wonders if she had gone to him then, if she had taken her son in her arms and rocked him to and fro, the way she had when he was a small boy with some wound or other injury, if she had done that might she have stopped the sealing up of words inside him? Could she have prevented his burrowing down into a darkened place deep inside him? In her life, she has known longing, but it is nothing compared to the visceral need she carries around inside her to hear her son speak. How she misses the sound of his voice – it’s an ache that’s become lodged in her chest.
It was Holly who went to him in the end. Putting her arms around her older brother, whispering something to him. His eyes remained fixed on Zo?, and Caroline remembers looking back and seeing the figure of her husband, crouched over Zo?, his face close to hers, peering at her intently, as if expecting that at any moment she might wake up.
The days pass and begin to form a pattern. They take turns visiting Robbie, in the same way they alternate the cooking. Rain lashes the island, keeping them indoors, and there is something comforting about being holed up with the fire lit, playing Scrabble, reading, talking. Slowly, a form of normality returns, and David feels himself relaxing into the company of his wife and daughter. In the months he was alone in this house he was often troubled by the notion that she was with him still – Zo?. In the hours of the night, when sleep failed to come, his thoughts would turn to her, remembering how she was on that last day. Sometimes, alone in the house, chopping onions in the kitchen, or perusing one of Alan’s books in the study, he thought he could hear the whisper of her voice or the pad of her footstep and would turn to survey the room, half expecting to see her standing there, her head to one side, biting down on a mischievous smile that kept surfacing, as if it has all been an elaborate joke. Zo?, his daughter. He is certain of it now. Samples taken at the autopsy, her DNA clearly matched to his. It is beyond doubt, and there is some comfort to be taken from that.
He grieves for her all the same – a deep, sonorous grief. She had been in his life for less than a year, yet his sorrow at her death is so much deeper – it’s like she was always there, part of the meat and bones of him.
Some good news. They learn that the judge presiding over Robbie’s case has given leave for him to be released temporarily for Christmas. David and Caroline must surrender their passports for the duration, and there are various rules they must abide by. The mood in the house changes, becoming almost celebratory. Caroline is giddy with excitement, and channels it into preparations for Christmas, shopping and cooking with zeal, readying the house for her son’s return. Two days is all they will have with him but they are grateful for that.
The rain eases off, although a chill wind remains. It is the day before Robbie’s release, and David suggests to Holly that they take the bikes out and cycle towards Saint-Martin. He doubts that the oyster bar is still open, but he needs to get out into the fresh air, cooped up inside the house for too long. He senses the same claustrophobia in Holly. Caroline’s excitement is too large for the small rooms, making them feel cramped, and he has seen the tension in his daughter’s face, despite her own gladness at her brother’s homecoming. It crosses his mind that all this obvious fuss over Robbie might be making Holly feel she has become invisible to them.
The bikes feel stiff from lack of use, but still David and Holly are glad to be outdoors, cycling beyond the village, through the fields towards the harbour where they plan to take the coastal path that runs along the north-west of the island. In the summer, these paths are busy with cyclists, tourists with carriages behind their bicycles like chariots, small children peeping out. Today, the path is deserted – David and Holly are the only people present. They reach the harbour, the walls dulled now that the summer sun has deserted them, and continue on over the flooded plains, the reeds growing high around them. They hear the lonely call of an occasional corncrake and pass a flock of geese idling in the water where there had once been a sailing school. The farms look deserted, the ground asleep. In winter the population of the island shrinks considerably, and David feels it now as they pedal past empty houses, closed shops. The wind is against them, and it is hard work pressing forward. In places the path is narrow with steep drops to the water on either side. A sudden gust makes his heart clench with fright as Holly wobbles on her bike. She puts out a foot to steady herself, then stops and turns to look at him.
‘Do you want to go back?’ he asks, and she nods, tiredness etched into her features.
They turn their bikes around, and walk back, side by side, the bicycles between them. David wonders whether Robbie might come for a cycle in the days that he’s home. He can’t imagine that his son gets much opportunity for exercise – certainly not vigorous outdoor exercise like this. He says as much to Holly and she agrees. Her tone is muted, but David feels his excitement at the prospect of Robbie’s imminent return and talks at length of his plans for those two days – what they might do. Holly listens without offering any opinions of her own.