Page 54 of One Step Behind

I want to ask if he remembers the funeral and Mum and Trevor sitting in the front row across from us, unable to show us an ounce of forgiveness even on the day we were saying goodbye to our dad.

‘You moved out?’ Matthew says.

A jab of guilt gets me right between the ribs. ‘I’d signed the lease on a bedsit before Dad died. I offered to stay while you finished college, but you wanted to quit anyway and get a job. You found an apprenticeship at the restaurant you still work at now.’

‘Mum doesn’t speak to us any more,’ he says.

I shake my head.

‘Will you see if she’ll come visit me?’ he asks, his eyes pleading with me like he’s eight and I’m eleven again.

‘I’ll try,’ I tell him, unsure if I mean it. The thought of seeing Mum fills me with a twisted mix of emotions, like tangled Christmas tree lights I’ll never be able to unravel.

Matthew closes his eyes and for a moment I think he’s fallen asleep. I stand up and start to move noiselessly towards the door.

‘Sophie?’

I turn and his face when he looks at me is so scared, so like that little boy who first came to live with us that I feel a pang of sadness in my chest so fierce it takes my breath away.

‘Yeah?’

‘There’s a big gap in my head. I know there’s stuff I can’t remember. It’s just gone.’ There’s a slur to his words, as though he’s drunk. ‘It’s all gone.’

‘They said it would take a couple of days, and besides, you know who I am, right?’

Matthew nods, then winces. ‘Do I have a cat?’

‘A cat? No.’ I shake my head. ‘So you don’t remember anything from before the accident? You were acting a bit strange.’

‘Was I?’ He rubs his hand across the top of his head as though he’s just this second banged it, and looks as though he might cry.

‘It’s OK.’

‘It’s not OK,’ he says in a voice so laced with fury that I take a sudden step back. ‘It’s … NOT … OK,’ he repeats, louder this time, his eyes squeezing shut.‘There is something I have to remember. It’s important. I know it is. I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE.’ His shouts bounce from the walls and when he looks at me his eyes are dark and angry.

Memories force themselves into my head.

The night air filled with smoke.

The neighbours staring.

The flashing lights, the sirens.

And Matthew looking at me just like he is now.

In front of me, Matthew pulls at the blanket covering his body. His good leg kicks out, tangling himself further, and he bangs his fists against the bed. ‘I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE.’

I reach for the red cord, but before I can pull it the door flies open and the nurse from the front desk appears and is across the room in a second, pressing a firm hand on Matthew’s shoulder.

‘Matthew, you need to calm down. Everything is all right. You’ve had a brain injury and you need to rest.’

My feet are rooted to the spot. I want to leave. Should I though?

‘Sophie?’ Mrs Dunsby touches my shoulder and I jump.

Matthew’s eyes are still shut tight and he’s thrashing against the mattress despite the nurse by his side.

‘Agitation is very common in recovering patients,’ she says in a quiet voice, guiding me from the room.