‘Don’t come near me!’ Her shriek makes me flinch. Alison hovers in the doorway. They know Ava needs this. I know she needs this. ‘Stay away from me! I hate you!’ And then she’s gone, storming away, a door slamming.
I don’t move. I can’t. Is this my justice at last? My baby, my one good thing, my chance at a small redemption, hates me. She wishes she hadn’t been born because of me. I have ruined her life. I ruin everything. How can I tell her how I wish I could unravel it all, take it back? To stop myself. To kill myself before. How can I tell her how I dream of him, always, and each time it destroys me? How can I tell her anything without it sounding like a pathetic attempt at an excuse? A plea for forgiveness, even though I know there can never be any forgiveness. I will never want forgiveness.
I don’t mind so much that she hates me. I have always expected that to come one day. All those fears, the worry, knowing how easy it is to be found, it was a fantasy to think Ava would get through life blissfully ignorant. I hoped it would come later. When she was grown and had a life of her own that couldn’t be taken and changed just to protect me. I hate that she hates herself. I can’t bear for her to hate herself. Was I so wrong to have a child? To want someone to love? To be loved by? Oh selfish, Charlotte. Always wanting.
‘She’ll calm down,’ Alison says, coming in and turning the TV on as if this can distract me and establish some kind of normality. ‘We’ll get her some help. Help for both of you.’ She looks at me with pity, but I barely see her. I’m already drifting deep inside myself. My own personal hell. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea,’ she says.
I don’t think Ava will calm down. I know this rage. It reminds me of Charlotte. She’s my girl after all, and that terrifies me more than anything. I know how that rage can lead to terrible things. Can leave someone with regrets like tombstones which have to be carried through life, back-breakingly heavy and deserved.
It all has to come out somehow.
27
NOW
MARILYN
The bright office lights have given me a headache and my sleepless eyes throb. It isn’t a migraine – I haven’t had a real one of those since I was a teenager, whatever I tell Penny when I need a day or two off – this is complete emotional exhaustion. I feel numb, as if the synapses in my brain aren’t quite connecting and I have a constant queasiness in the pit of my stomach.
I turn the radio off and drive in silence. Sitting here in the traffic is the closest I can get to some actual peace and quiet. Some alone time to breathe. To try to process everything. Even when no one was actually speaking at work I could feel the hum of it. All the news tabs open behind work documents. These youngsters who can’t even remember 1989 poring over every detail. The whispers. The gasps. The sideways glances at each other when they found something new. This horrible piece of history that is now part of their lives.
No one sent me the links, of course. I imagine Penny told them not to. She probably meant well, but it’s only made things worse, separating me from the crowd. And it’s not as if I haven’t searched it all myself at home, scouring the Internet until my eyes burn. It’s different though – Stacey, Julia, those new staff, and even Toby just have the thrill of excitement. It’s not real to them. Lisa – I must stop calling her Lisa – wasn’t real to them.
Still, I didn’t let any of them see how terrible I feel. Years of practice at hiding things. I look the part. Always together. Nothing fazes Marilyn. Skin of steel, that’s me.
The only glitch in my armour was arriving late this morning, but they hadn’t expected me to turn up at all. The news had hit us all, but it had frozen me. Then I’d thrown up. I have a vague memory of crying almost hysterically and trying to ring Ava – Oh God, poor Ava – before Richard had realised what I was doing and pulled my phone from me. It was going straight to answerphone anyway. I heard it click in before he hung up. By the time we’d finished discussing that, I was over an hour late, didn’t get Penny’s message to take the day off if I wanted it, and when I got there she’d already briefed the office in no uncertain terms not to speak to the press when they inevitably started calling, to pass any concerned clients her way, and to try to carry on as normal. I came through the door in time to hear her final remark that she would not tolerate anyone bringing the company into disrepute.
You’ve got to hand it to Penny, she’s at her finest under pressure, but she still looked at me funny when I came in, although nothing compared to the glances the others gave me. The way you look at someone you almost feel sorry for but who might be contagious. Everyone’s smiles were too tight and their concern too shallow. They were more curious than worried. How awful for you. You must feel terrible. Underneath it all was the lingering, unspoken Did you know? Well, fuck them if they have to ask. I have a bubble of anger. It’s a good feeling. Better than the rest, anyway.
In the end, Penny gave us all a half-day while she fielded phone calls from Lisa’s client list and did her best to reassure others. I didn’t ask her about Simon Manning and she didn’t mention him, as if by us staying silent he’ll stay too busy to notice. But Penny doesn’t know that Lisa – Charlotte. Charlotte, not Lisa – has been for dinner with him. Been on a date.
I asked Penny if she wanted a hand with the calls and she’d said no, it was best coming from her. It was probably true but she’d looked away awkwardly in a way that made me want to scream, ‘I am not Charlotte Nevill! I got fooled as much as all of you! I got fooled more!’ Only when I was gathering my coat and bag did she come out again.
‘I need to do a DBS check for you.’ She was hovering close to her door, clearly uncomfortable. ‘I never did a CRB when you and Lisa started here. I was so busy setting all this up, and I didn’t have any reason to … well, she was a single mother. Well-spoken. Good CV.’ She’d shrugged and I knew why she was so keen to lay all this to rest at work quickly. She could have prevented this. I felt sorry for her. She’s just opened a second branch, taken a financial gamble, and it could all get damaged because she didn’t do one criminal background check.
‘Sure,’ I’d answered. ‘I’ll do the form in the morning.’ As if there was no doubt that I’d come in. Good old reliable efficient Marilyn. Gold star for me.
‘Are you okay?’ she’d asked me. What could I say? I nodded and told her I was in shock like everyone else.
Up ahead, the light turns green but it takes someone angrily beeping their horn behind me until I move the car forward. My shock isn’t like everyone else’s. Not everyone else was Lisa’s best friend. I think again about that missed CRB. One small form would have changed everything. Lisa would probably never have taken the job – surely a fake identity still wouldn’t allow for a faked criminal record check. I would never have met her. Ten years of friendship would never have happened. This would never have happened. I try to unravel the past, removing Lisa from it, as I pull into the drive. I can’t. She’s so woven into me it’s impossible.
There are no press here yet, thank God. They’re probably still all over the school and Ava’s friends. Oh, poor Ava. They haven’t torn Lisa’s life far enough apart to get to me yet, but they will. Even as I mentally try to distance myself from her, the past floods back – Ava’s birthdays, laughing over Strictly Come Dancing while eating Chinese takeaways, wine after work. All so ordinary, and yet I loved it. I needed it.