The Girl in the Mirror(82)

“Now,” says Summer, “you have to promise you won’t come back. I’m scared for you, Iris. Adam has some nasty ideas.”

“I promise,” I say. “I only ever wanted Bathsheba. I’m not cut out for motherhood.”

“Get out of the car,” says Summer. “Walk up to the bridge.”

I climb out of the car, and I face my sister.

“Summer,” I say, “I know Bathsheba’s not coming. Is she even in Australia?”

Summer’s teeth glint in the starlight. Her smile is cold, reptilian. She’s thinking about whether she can be bothered stringing me along anymore. Whether she needs to.

“Oh, yes, she’s in Australia,” says Summer. “We’re holding your memorial service on her tomorrow.”

The pretense drops away. There is only Summer and me. She looks me in the eye.

No lies.

“Summer, I’m sorry about everything.”

“There’s no point sniveling, Iris.”

“I’m not sniveling. I’ve lost. I know I’ve lost, but please promise me one thing.”

“I’ll make sure you’re dead when you fall,” says Summer. “I won’t let them eat you alive, even though I always wanted to see that.”

The way she says it, I nearly sink to the ground. I nearly give up. I can’t speak.

“Walk,” says Summer. “It’s time.”

I walk to the bridge. I am cold, but sweat drips down my back. My legs are weak, and my body still aches from the birth. Could I jump from here? The handrail is hip height, and there’s a gap at the bottom that I could squeeze through. The fall is probably ten meters. I could survive it, maybe. The water is deep enough, but I know what’s down there. I would only swap one death for another. A worse one.

“One more thing,” I say. “Please promise me that you’ll look after Esther. I would have made an atrocious mother, but I do love her. Promise me she’ll be okay.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” says Summer. “I’ll take care of Rosebud.”

She’ll take care of Rosebud. Like she’s taking care of me.

I remember my words to Virginia. It only needs to take one breath. How Virginia shrieked.

I have to face it. Summer doesn’t love Esther. Maybe she hates her. How can I leave my daughter in the hands of this psychopath?

I’m so tired. I’m worn out just walking up the slope of the bridge. But I know what I have to do.

I have to fight.

“You’re wrong about one thing,” I say. “One small thing. It doesn’t matter, but I think you should know. Adam has kissed me. He didn’t for a long time, and I wondered why, but he has now. He’s kissed me over and over. He pushes his lips against mine so hard, and his tongue pushes so deep, it’s like he’s aching for me—”

“I told you that,” says Summer. “It’s obvious you’re lying.”

“He’s done it in front of people,” I say. “Ask the nurses at the hospital. Ask Nina.”

Summer’s lip curls, and her eyes flash. I’ve riled her. She’s distracted. The gun is off-center, pointing at my shoulder. It’s a poor play, but it’s the only chance I’ve got.

I lunge for her. I grab at the gun.

Summer is taken by surprise, but she doesn’t let go. She grips the gun as my hand closes around hers. She grabs my hair, wrenches it back. My chin jerks skyward.

I throw myself at her. We fall together. We both hit the ground hard. I’m on top of her, pinning her down. I’m still holding the gun, my hand enclosing Summer’s. I bang our hands against the concrete. Hard as I can. She cries out. I bang again, harder. The gun skitters across the concrete. It stops at the edge of the bridge. I reach for it, but Summer brings her knee up hard into my crotch. I yell in pain and now she’s on top of me. She claws at me. I kick back, scratch back, clutch her, tear her away from that gun.

We are both fighting for our lives, and we are perfectly matched.



Two girls stand on a bridge. They both have golden hair and eyes the color of the sea. One of them is clinging to the safety rail. Her body aches from the fight she has lost, the biggest fight of her life. She feels the space beneath her, the long drop to the river below, and she knows what’s in that river, but she can’t look down. Her eyes are fixed on her sister.

The other girl stands in the middle of the bridge, at the summit. Her eyes are fixed on her sister, too. She points a gun at her sister’s head.

A shot rings out, splitting the night in two, and the girl at the safety rail screams, but she doesn’t fall.

The girl holding the gun crumples, falls. It’s a perfect shot through her chest. Her twin’s head whips round toward the sound, and she sees her brother standing in the car park, a rifle in his hand.

“Iris!” he cries.





Part III

Iris





23

The Birthday




I’m Iris. I’m Iris. I’m Iris.

My brother runs toward me, still holding the rifle. I collapse into his arms. “Thank God!” he cries. “I got here just in time!”

I’m trembling uncontrollably. My sister’s body lies on the ground, a scarlet flower blooming on her chest where the bullet struck. Blood is pooling around her body. I turn to Ben. He’s shaking so badly we can’t hold each other up. We sink to the ground together.