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The whirlwind of heat is inside me, just as it was back then when I came into our bedroom to find my mother suffocating my sister. Why did she choose her to die first? Just because she was older? Phoebe wasn’t the one she said would go mad. Phoebe was her little helper. If it wasn’t for Phoebe, social services would havealready been aware of the mess our lives had become. Even before Mum stopped sleeping, there were forgotten dirty uniforms, unwashed dishes, Mum staring into space.
Much as I’m doing now.
How did I get to the pub? What was I hurrying away from?
How did Phoebe end up in the road?
I am afraid of myself.
Is this how my mother felt? Were these thoughts she had?What am I capable of? Do I really know? Am I the thing I dread?
Forty tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
There are broken bones, a punctured lung, subdural hematoma. Phoebe’s brain is bleeding, just like Mum’s did when she smashed it against the Hartwell mirror. I’m forty tomorrow, just like Mum was. My lips are moving silently, muttering her numbers. Is this shock? Or is this madness?
Phoebe might die this time.
She looked like she was pushed.
Not by me. It wasn’t me.
Emma. Emma. Emma.I stare down at my own name scratched hard in black lines on the paper. Maybe my mother didn’t even write it. Maybe it was Sandra. I don’t know anything about Sandra except that she paints happy places. Why would she write it? How would she know my name? I look at the scrawl. Really look at it. It’s my mother’s writing. I know it is. Letters full of jagged sharp edges.
I crumple the paper back up as a shadow falls across me.
“Why didn’t you call me?” It’s Robert and I haul myself to my exhausted feet so I don’t feel so small with him looming over me. “Is she okay?” He takes in the blood and dirt on me. “Are you okay?”
“No, she’s not okay. She’s sedated while they figure out how to save her.” My eyes are dry. All my emotion a nuclear ball insideme. “How did you know?” I didn’t call him. I haven’t called anyone. This is family business and right now Robert doesn’t feel like family. “Who called you?”
“The police.” He doesn’t move to hold me, and instead we stand face-to-face like awkward strangers who’ve had a one-night stand and now don’t know how to behave with each other. I don’t mind. I don’t want him to touch me. Or pity me. He asked me to move out of my house. So much for in sickness and in health.
The police. Of course. I guess our names are in a system somewhere, and, as if by magic, like a genie summoned, Hildreth and Caine appear in the doorway of the waiting area. “What were you doing there, Em?” Robert asks.
“I went to talk to her. There are things I wanted to talk to her about.”
“And you got there just as she was pushed?”
My eyes flash upward.Oh no, you don’t, Robert Averell. I may get to question my own sanity, but not you. “Nice passive aggressive accusation there. If you’ve got something to say, come out and say it.”
“I’m only trying to understand.” He can’t meet my eyes. “It’s your birthday tomorrow. I know you’re feel—”
“You don’t know anything about how I’m feeling,” I snap. “And as for my birthday, I’m very well aware of that. And I just held my sister’s hand while her broken body bled on me, and she might be dying, and thanks for all your concern.” My words drip sarcasm. “But if you don’t mind getting out of my way, I’ll go and speak to some people who are marginally less hostile to me than you are. The police. But thanks for being so determined to think the worst of me once again. Just the support a woman wants from her husband.”
“Emma.” He sounds like he’s talking to a troublesome child. “I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, fuck off.” I spit the words back loud enough for the police to hear, but I’m past caring. I pause at the nurse’s station and say, “I’m Phoebe Bournett’s only next of kin. My husband and I are currently estranged, so please only contact me with any updates on her well-being, is that okay? You’ve got my number.”
“Of course. We would only ever contact next of kin and the police.” She gives me a warm smile full of sympathy, and only then do I have the first tightening in my throat that threatens tears. The kindness of strangers will kill us all. I walk away before I actually weep and join Caine and Hildreth, a pair of ghouls, once again wanting to talk to me about someone hurt in my family. My heart races despite my cool appearance.
I think someone pushed her.
What if a witness saw me do it? What if I did it?
I can’t trust myself.
Hildreth looks me up and down and I’m surprised to see a glimpse of sympathy in her eyes. “Problems at home?”