I feel annoyed. I know I should put an end to this.
‘Ellie?’
‘Can I go now? I don’t want to talk any more.’
‘Sorry, just bear with me a little longer. I know it’s difficult.’
‘It’s all in the file, why don’t you just read it again and let me go.’
‘When you found her, you said that you thought she was sleeping?’
‘Yes, she looked so calm, innocent. Everything about her seemed perfect. I had only opened the bedroom door to make sure she was still asleep. It was then I noticed them.’
‘What?’
‘At first I thought they were of no importance.’
‘What were of no importance?’
‘The ribbons, the ones on her plaits.’
‘What about them?’
‘They were wrong, they weren’t the way she wore them. It was because of the ribbons that I looked closer; if not, I might have closed the door and just assumed she was asleep.’
‘So you went over to her.’
‘Yes, that’s when I knew. When I touched her, her face was cold. Have you ever seen a dead person, Dr Ebbs?’
‘Yes, Ellie, I have.’
‘Her face was that grey colour of death.’
‘And you were absolutely sure she was dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you didn’t think to raise the alarm?’
‘What for? I just wanted to be with her. Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight.’ I pause. ‘But I do remember how she was lying.’
‘How was she lying?’
‘It was so strange. It took me a while to work out why.’
‘Why did you think it was strange, Ellie?’
‘Because she looked like a statue.’
‘A statue?’
‘Yeah, a statue of an angel.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘It was her hands, they were joined as if she was praying and her body was all curled up, her knees looked like she was kneeling.’
‘What you’ve just said about the ribbons, and how Amy was lying, you’ve never mentioned this before?’
‘I had my reasons.’ He flicks through the file again and my head starts to ache. ‘Don’t you get it, Dr Ebbs? None of it matters. She’s dead. My daughter is dead. Those words on the page, ‘AMY’ – ‘DEAD’ – ‘WEXFORD’, that’s all that matters.’
He stops, and when he speaks his voice is gentle. ‘Nor have you mentioned anything since.’
‘Since?’
He looks straight at me. ‘Since you’ve been here.’
I hold his gaze. ‘No one else has ever asked.’
Meadow View
HIS BEDROOM IN MEADOW VIEW WAS SPARSE: A SINGLE BED, a solid-oak two-drawer locker picked up at an auction in Rathmines, a portable television, a music centre at the wall opposite the end of the bed, and one small window looking out onto the street. It was a place to sleep and unwind; taking time out was important to him. Everyone needed to close the door at some point, mentally shut out the world.
He could hear mumbling from the neighbours, more prominent during times of his silent solitude. Pressing the play button on the music centre, the sound of early-morning birdsong filled the room. With the curtains pulled, he felt content in the dark. Sunlight was for outdoor pursuits, now he needed everything to slow down.
The cherry-red ribbon was still inside his jeans pocket. Lying back on the bed, he removed it and let it run through his fingers before placing it on the bedside locker. He would be back at Cronly soon, where he could put it away safely. As he closed his eyes, he thought about his battered attaché case underneath the old metal-framed bed in the big house, a suitcase that had travelled with him to Suvereto when he was twelve years old. He remembered feeling excited about the trip and thought about the boyhood stickers he had applied to the case so diligently, most of which were still intact. It was always a treat opening the attaché case, just like the drawers in the old sideboard, with all its treasures. To him, everything in it, from the dull to the glittering, meant something, providing a window to the past.
He would need to buy another crucifix to replace the one he’d given Caroline. Amelia’s one had gone missing long before, another tell-tale sign of her inadequacy. They weren’t expensive, so he didn’t mind.
Caroline had been such a sweet girl. He had told her how the crucifix would keep her safe. She liked the idea. She was even wearing it the afternoon he picked her up for their trip to Cronly. He was glad he was going back there soon. He wanted to look at the photographs of Caroline again, now that they were all he had left of her. They were at the bottom of the attaché case, taken with his Polaroid camera, the one he had bought to replace the now-broken one he had received on his eleventh birthday.