Page 27

CHAPTER 27

SALLY – D AY T HREE

As Carol walks into the room, Sally feels as if a lever’s being pulled. Water gushing. The roar of a Tube train finally pulling into the station.

Somehow Sally is on her knees. Then sitting on the floor. Slumped forward, her shoulders heaving with the sobbing.

‘It’s OK. I’m here.’ Carol’s voice, low and gentle, her arms gripping Sally tight.

‘I’ll leave you.’ The voice of the family liaison officer who opened the door to Carol. Even her voice is trembling.

‘Oh my darling. I’m so sorry. So very sorry.’ Carol is sitting on the floor alongside Sally, smoothing her hair now as she speaks. ‘I would have come sooner. I wish I’d found out sooner.’

It takes Sally a long time to work through the sobbing. Her body eventually exhausted by it. Her breath huffing as if she’s climbed a steep hill.

‘Let’s get you on the sofa.’

She feels Carol’s arms supporting her. Guiding her. She’s afraid of collapsing again but Carol is slow and steady and finally she is sitting on the couch by the sliding doors on to the garden.

‘I’ll make tea.’

Sally doesn’t answer. Can’t. Shocked by how the sight of Carol, dear Carol, has somehow made it all real. Not some terrible dream from which she will wake up. Amelie really gone.

She hears the kettle. Carol is using the Aga kettle, not the electric. Knows this kitchen, unlike the policewoman. There is the clinking of metal on china. The fridge door. All the while Sally just stares out on the garden. A windy day. Amelie’s swing is moving slightly and she finds that she can’t bear to look at it.

Sally moves her gaze to the far end of the garden where the branches of the trees lining the back wall are swaying. For some reason it makes her think of Amelie dancing. The shoes up on her bed for a ballet exam she may never now take. Anything and everything leading her thoughts to her daughter. The tears come again ...

‘It’s OK. Here’s your tea. I’ve put sugar in. Sip it slowly.’

Carol’s hand is again stroking her hair.

‘I’m sorry.’ Sally’s voice breaks up as she speaks.

‘Don’t be silly. There is nothing for you to be sorry about. I’m here now.’

For a long time they just sit, sipping their drinks, Carol smoothing her hair. Sally crying. Stopping for a bit. And then crying again.

‘I think it’s only just hitting me. That this is all real, Carol.’ She clears her throat. Sniffs.

‘It must be very hard, darling. The shock. I really don’t know what to say.’

Finally, Sally turns and tilts her head. ‘Was it horrible? At the police station? Did they ask a lot of questions? Matthew warned me they would have to—’

‘It was fine. I’m fine. Never mind about me. Let’s worry about you. I take it you’re not sleeping?’

Sally shakes her head.

‘Eating?’

Again, Sally shakes her head.

‘Do you think you could manage a piece of toast?’ A pause. ‘For me. Could you eat a piece of toast for me, Sally? Just one.’

Finally, Sally nods. ‘OK. One piece.’

Carol stands and walks across to the blue breadbin on the kitchen counter. The clink of the lid. Rustling of the bread packaging. Then finally the click of the toaster.

Sally is remembering that back in boarding school together she had chicken pox once. Was put in isolation. Couldn’t eat and lost a lot of weight. The nuns were all very worried, wondering if she should be sent home to recover.

It was Carol who was the first person allowed to visit. She’d already had chicken pox.

Toast. Look, Sally. I’ve brought you toast. Just one piece. Come on. You can manage one piece for me? Yes? Otherwise they’re going to send you home ... and you’ll miss the end-of-term party.

‘They don’t seem to have any real leads, Carol.’ Again Sally sniffs as she speaks. ‘It’s nearly two full days and as far as I can tell, they don’t have any proper leads at all. We thought it might be a woman who threatened Matthew once. But now we don’t know. We just don’t know.’