The Things You Didn't See(64)
‘Because you’ve all been there, to that dark place, and you know what helps most: a friend, who listens with his heart, or a professional, who responds with his head. What’s better – a hug or a pill?’
He doesn’t look in my direction, but I can feel his attention straining across the circle, that mine is the only response he really wants.
‘I think,’ I say carefully, ‘you did exactly the right thing.’ My only answer, and a lie. But I want to keep him on my side. He’ll be useful to me now he’s going to be assessing Dad.
In the corner of my eye, I see someone arrive. It’s Holly, and I assume she’s here for me, but then she catches Clive’s eye and waves. She gestures to the stack of books, indicating that she isn’t going to disturb the group, she’ll wait. Interesting – the two of them are working together then.
‘Can I tell you about my week?’ I say, knowing Holly must be listening.
They all lean forward. I gather from this that I was wrong about them not reading the paper.
‘You all know that my daughter, Victoria, is at boarding school in Norfolk. She was sent there when she was just twelve, because I’d had a breakdown and I was sectioned to the Bartlet. My family felt it was best if she was away from my madness, and once she’d gone, nothing I could say would persuade them she should come home. These past few days I’ve realised something: it wasn’t my fault that I was ill two years ago. I’ve always thought my illness was because I’m weak, but I’m not going to feel guilty any more. I’m not letting anyone take my girl away from me again. I’m not simply going to accept that other people know better.’
The group are silent, then spontaneously they begin to clap. They cheer me on, because I’m like them, because they know what’s happened to me and I’m talking like a survivor. I was alone in saying you didn’t shoot yourself, and I’ve been vindicated in that at least. I have to be certain of who shot you, and I’m not going to be silenced any more.
Whatever comes next, I will survive.
30
Holly
Holly arrived at the library to find Team Talk still in session. She hadn’t expected to see Cassandra among the group, given her mum only died two days ago, but then she revised this thought: That’s even more reason for her to come. She’s getting support.
Not wanting to intrude, she lost herself among the shelves of books. She could sense the discussion had been disturbed by her arrival – the conversation became quieter, but then Cassandra was speaking, fairly loudly, and the group erupted into applause. Holly saw that Cassandra was smiling bravely, looking a different person from the woman who had sat beside a hospital bed, anxiously waiting for her mother to wake up. Maybe Maya’s death had come as a relief, after a week of uncertainty.
Clive drew the meeting to an early close and people began to make their way out. Holly took the opportunity to speak with Cassandra, who was collecting up used mugs.
‘Cass, I was so sorry to hear the sad news. How are you?’
‘Bearing up. Considering my mum’s dead, and my dad’s in prison.’
Holly didn’t know quite how to respond to the baldness of that. ‘If there’s anything I can do . . . ?’
She smiled sadly. ‘Just keeping on being my friend, Holly. Can you do that?’
‘I’m sure I can.’ As she said it, Holly felt herself being boxed into a corner: she knew she shouldn’t promise friendship when she was secretly speaking with Alfie Avon, and when her own obsession with what had happened at Innocence Lane was nothing to do with friendship, and everything to do with her unresolved past.
‘Actually, Cass, I’m going with Clive to interview your dad.’
‘Oh?’ Though her smile didn’t falter, Cass crossed her arms.
‘Just as an observer – Clive suggested it,’ Holly said, disgusted with herself for sounding so passive.
‘Well,’ said Cassandra, turning to collect more mugs, ‘please tell me how it goes. As for me, I have a funeral to organise. Do you know if the hospital would have an issue releasing the body, anything that might delay me?’
‘There’ll be an autopsy. I can find out how long that’ll take, if you like?’
‘Thanks. I want to arrange things as soon as possible.’
‘Cass, when I see your dad, I could pass on a message?’
Cassandra straightened her spine, and Holly saw a chrome colour radiate off her like armour. She was keeping herself protected with this show of strength.
‘I have nothing to tell him. But . . . can you tell me . . .’
‘Yes?’ Holly reached out to touch Cassandra’s arm, seemingly as a comforting gesture, but really so she could tune in to her feelings. Her emotions ran through Holly’s veins like molten tar, heavy and dark. Mistrust and doubt were clearly there. Holly just couldn’t tell if she was experiencing Cassandra’s mirrored feeling or simply her own.
‘Tell me afterwards if you believe him.’
Holly waited as Clive clicked himself into the passenger seat of her Fiat 500, then they set off on the winding drive to Norwich. They chatted about Leif ’s obsession with Ingrid Bergman, about Ellen’s obsession with going on a Christmas cruise. As they trundled up the A140, they fell into comfortable silence and Holly’s thoughts drifted to Hector, this blunt instrument of a man, who would have just learned that his wife was dead.