“She’s still sleeping, sorry. She hasn’t been herself these past few months. She sleeps a lot.”
She nodded sympathetically. “I understand.”
“She hasn’t left her bed virtually since it happened.”
“Has she been to see the doctor? Maybe they could prescribe something to help her. I know it must have been absolutely terrible for you both.”
His smile slowly vanished. “Yes it was. Especially her. But,” he glanced up, “she’s sleeping now.”
“Well maybe I could call ’round another time then—when she’s up and about.” She started to get up from the sofa again.
Moving away from the doorway, he held out his hand in protest. “No, there’s no need to go. Why don’t you just go up to see her?”
Grimacing in confusion, she said, “But she’s sleeping.”
“Yes, but she’ll probably get up for you. She just needs to hear your voice. We haven’t been getting along all that well, and I think she didn’t believe me that you were downstairs. She could really use a friendly face.”
She paused for a moment as if wanting desperately to think of a valid excuse to leave. “All right,” she said, defeated. “I’ll pop up to say hello.”
His smile returned. “Great.” He walked out into the hallway, Christina behind him. Richard followed closely. Just at the foot of the stairs, Peter stopped and turned to Christina. “Why don’t you go up? I want to bring her a drink. Do you want something as well?”
“No thanks,” she replied, shaking her head. He walked past her, heading for the kitchen. “Which room is it?” she called out.
“It’s the one straight ahead.” He reached the kitchen. “Just go straight in. She won’t mind. Honestly.”
Richard trailed after her up the stairs. He could sense her reluctance as she approached the closed bedroom door. Reaching for the doorknob, she hesitated. She then took a deep breath and gingerly opened the door and entered. Like the living room, the room was a mess. Dirty clothes were scattered across the floor, the bedside tables were filled with used cups and dishes, and Richard could smell a horrible, rancid stink in the air, prompting him to see if the window was open. It wasn’t. And judging by the aroma, it hadn’t been for some time.
Sophie was curled up, buried in a mass of duvet. “Sophie?” Christina delicately whispered. There was no reply, so she moved a little closer. “Sophie? Are you awake? It’s Christina—Christina Long.” Still no reply.
Edging closer, stepping carefully over the clothes on the floor, she whispered again, “Sophie?”
Christina was now standing at the side of the bed, leaning over. “Sophie?” Still she failed to answer. “Sophie, it’s Christina. Are you awake? Peter said it was all right for me to come up and speak to you.” Still nothing. Frowning, she reached forward to give her a gentle prod. Touching the thick and puffy duvet, her hand sank straight down to the mattress. With a look of puzzlement, she prodded another section. The duvet was completely hollow. She pulled the bedding away, only to find the bed deserted. She took a step back. She must have the wrong room, Richard thought, as he moved out of her way.
Christina turned to leave the bedroom.
Peter was standing right behind her.
“Jesus Christ!” she shouted in fright. “You scared me.”
“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Am I in the wrong room?” she asked, a clear tone of fear in her voice. “She’s not in the bed.”
Peter took a moment to answer.
“Sophie’s not here,” he coldly said.
“Then where is she?”
A tear rolled down Peter’s cheek. He sniffed loudly, and then softly replied, “She dead.”
Richard could see the whole of Christina’s body shudder, causing her to back away into the side of the bed. “What do you mean? You sent me up here to talk to her.”
Peter moved closer to her, forcing her to sit on the edge of the bed. “She hung herself.”