Nightshade

62





Sandra put down a plate of fish fingers and chips in front of Bella, but she didn’t react. She was watching a documentary on the Discovery channel. ‘Come on, Bella, you might at least say thank you. Those fish fingers didn’t cook themselves.’

Bella looked up, her face a blank mask. ‘Huh?’

Sandra pointed at the plate of food on the coffee table. ‘Your dinner.’

Bella looked at the plate and wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘What do you mean you’re not hungry? What did you have at school?’

‘I can’t remember.’ Bella looked back at the television.

‘Try,’ said Sandra, folding her arms.

Bella sighed. ‘I don’t know. Spaghetti.’

‘You hate spaghetti.’

Bella sighed again, louder this time.

‘And stop that sighing, will you.’ Sandra sat on the sofa next to her daughter. ‘Bella, honey, you have to eat.’

‘I do eat,’ said Bella, her eyes still on the TV.

‘You love fish fingers.’

‘I know.’

‘So try some. Please.’

Bella sighed again, picked up a fish finger and nibbled it. ‘Honey, are you okay?’

Bella nodded.

‘How was school?’

Bella shrugged. ‘Same as always. School’s school.’

‘Are you still upset about what happened to Mrs Tomlinson?’

Bella frowned. ‘Of course not.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘She died, that’s all,’ said Bella flatly. ‘People die. Everybody dies, right?’ She put the fish finger back on the plate and stared at the television.

‘What are you watching?’ asked Sandra.

‘Nothing.’

Sandra squinted at the screen. She was fairly sure that she needed glasses because she was finding it harder to read newspapers and watch television. Her long-distance vision was fine and she could drive her car without any problems, but close up everything was blurry. It took her a minute or two to work out what the programme was about. Fred West, the serial killer.

‘Bella, why are you watching this?’

‘It’s interesting.’

‘He killed lots of girls. Him and his wife. Why would you watch something like that?’ She reached over and held Bella’s hand. ‘Is it because of what happened to you, honey?’ she asked quietly.

‘Of course not.’

‘No one’s going to hurt you again, honey. I swear.’

‘I know.’

‘Look at me, Bella.’

‘I want to watch this, Mum.’

Sandra reached for her daughter and turned her head towards her. ‘Look at me, honey,’ she said. ‘You’re safe now. Your daddy and I are never going to let anything happen to you again, I swear. You don’t have to worry about serial killers or kidnappers or anything like that. You’re safe.’

‘Mum, I know.’

‘So stop watching this nonsense. Watch cartoons or Corrie or that Ant and Dec show you like. Okay?’

Bella sighed. ‘Okay.’

Sandra leant towards her daughter and sniffed at her mouth. Bella’s breath was really foul. ‘Are you cleaning your teeth?’

‘Of course.’ Bella twisted out of Sandra’s grip and shuffled along the sofa.

‘I’m serious, Bella. Your breath smells terrible.’

Bella folded her arms. ‘Mum, please …’

‘Do you floss?’

‘Yes.’

‘Every night?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay. I’ll buy some mouthwash. And it’s about time you saw the dentist.’ Sandra heard a car pull up outside. ‘Daddy’s home!’ she said, but Bella didn’t react. She continued to stare at the television, her eyes wide.





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