In a Dark, Dark Wood(64)

‘As I see it,’ her voice is grimly steady, ‘there’s two possibilities. One,’ she holds up her forefinger, ‘Flo’s aunt did not in fact keep that gun loaded with blanks. But from their line of questioning, I don’t think they think that’s likely.’

‘And two?’

‘Someone loaded it.’

It’s only what I’ve been thinking. But it’s still a shock, hearing it out loud in the small hermit cell of the hospital room. We both sit there in silence, contemplating this for a long while, thinking about Tom larking around with it the night before, thinking about all the hows and whys and what-ifs.

‘How’s Jess taking it all?’ I ask at last, more to change the subject than anything else. Nina makes a wry face.

‘As you can imagine, she was her usual measured self. Only forty-five minutes of hysteria down the phone. First she was furious they were keeping me up here to make a statement, and then she wanted to come up, but I told her not to.’

‘Why not?’

Nina gives me a look that’s simultaneously sympathetic and disbelieving. ‘Dude, are you kidding me? For whatever f*cked-up reason, they think James was murdered. Would you want your nearest and dearest mixed up in that? No. Jess is not part of this, thank Christ, and it’s staying that way. I want her far, far away.’

‘Fair point.’ I scoot back onto the bed and sit, hugging my knees. Nina takes the chair and picks up my chart, flicking through it with bald-faced curiosity.

‘Do you mind?’ I say. ‘I’m not sure I want you knowing details of my last bowel movement and all that.’

‘Sorry, professional nosiness. How’s the head now? Sounds like you had quite a whack.’

‘Yeah, it felt like it. I’m OK though. Just … I’ve been having memory trouble.’ I rub where the dressing sits, as if I can rub the jumbled images back into a semblance of order. ‘It’s just the bit after I left the house.’

‘Hmm. Post-traumatic amnesia. It’s usually only a matter of a few moments though. Yours sounds like … I don’t know. How long do you think?’

‘It’s kind of difficult to be sure since, oh, did I mention, I can’t remember,’ I say. I can hear my voice going snappish and my own peevishness annoys me, but Nina ignores it.

‘It can’t be long though, right?’

‘Look, I know you mean well,’ I massage my temples, ‘but can we not talk about this? I spent all morning with a police sergeant trying to remember and honestly, I’ve had enough. It’s not coming. I worry if I try and force it I’ll just end up making something up and convincing myself it’s the truth.’

‘OK.’ She’s quiet for a moment and then says, ‘Look, I told them about you and James. I said you used to go out. I thought you should know. I didn’t know what you would have said but …’

‘It’s fine. I don’t want anyone to lie. I told Lamarr we were together. She’s the police officer assigned—’

‘I know,’ Nina breaks in. ‘She’s been speaking to us too. Does she know how you broke up?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know, the big secret. The STD. Or whatever you want to call it.’

‘For the last time, no one gave me an STD.’

‘So you keep saying. Did you tell her?’

‘No, I didn’t say anything. Did you?’

‘No. I had nothing to tell. I just said you were together. And then you broke up.’

‘Well quite. There’s nothing to tell.’ I press my lips together.

‘Really? Hmm, let’s see.’ She begins to tick the points off on her fingers. ‘Breaking up, leaving school, dropping contact with half your friends, not speaking to him for ten years. Nothing to tell?’

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ I repeat doggedly, staring at my fingers laced together over my knee. The cuts are starting to darken and scab over. Soon they’ll be healed.

‘Because the fact is,’ Nina continues, ‘James is dead and they’re looking for a motive.’

At that I look up. I look her right in the eye. She meets my gaze without flinching.

‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying, I’m worried about you.’

‘You’re implying I killed James!’

‘Fuck off!’ At that she stands and begins to pace around the room. ‘I am not. I’m saying— I’m trying—’

‘You know n-nothing about it,’ I say. Fuck. Stop stammering! But it is true, Nina does know nothing about it. No one knows about that part of my life – not even my mum. The only person who knows anything is Clare, and even she doesn’t know the full story. And Clare …

Clare is in hospital.

Clare is … what? Too ill to be interviewed? In a coma, even? But she will wake up.

‘Have you seen Clare?’ I say, my voice very low. Nina shakes her head.

‘No. I think she’s pretty bad. Whatever happened in that crash …’ She shakes her head again, this time in frustration rather than denial. ‘You know the worst thing; James would probably have lived. He was very badly hurt, but I reckon there was at least a fifty per cent chance he’d have survived.’