Shaw looks confused.
‘They’re extending Tottenham Court Road Tube station and digging up Soho left, right and centre. They’ve dug a great big hole outside the cafe.’
‘And the hoardings?’
‘The hoardings are meant to hide the hole, make the whole thing look more attractive. They show the timescale and blueprints for the new station.’
‘What made you look at them?’
‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘I think it was the mammoth bone that caught my eye.’
Shaw frowns.
‘It was a photograph,’ I tell her. ‘Of a mammoth bone they’d excavated the previous month. It was the developer’s way of saying that all this disruption was for a greater good. Look, we’re not just ripping up ancient streets and destroying Soho, we’re giving something back, something of historical interest. Here’s a mammoth bone.’
It is clear that Shaw has no idea what I’m going on about. I don’t think she’s ever even been to Soho.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘Things like that just make me angry.’
She nods her head and writes something down in her notebook.
‘So you were looking at these hoardings,’ she says. ‘And then what happened?’
I close my eyes and remember the sensation I felt that night. It was like the ground was moving beneath me and I was being pulled down. And then the noises started up. Screams. They were gentle at first but they grew louder and louder until I had to cover my ears with my hands. Then suddenly, bang, the explosion, everything flying up into the air: a head, a foot, an arm, a torso; raining down on me in a bloody twisted mess.
‘Kate,’ says Shaw, interrupting my memory. ‘What happened?’
‘I fell over. And, er, this girl tried to pull me up.’
‘Rosa Dunajski?’
How does she know her name?
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘She’s a waitress at the Star cafe?’
I nod my head.
‘She came out because you were making a bit of a disturbance, shouting at people to run for cover.’
‘No, that’s not true,’ I say, my voice shaking. ‘I just fell and this girl started fussing and grabbing at me.’
‘And then what did you do?’
‘I – I pushed her away.’
Shaw looks down at her notes and begins to read.
‘You pushed her so hard that she was knocked on to the ground, hitting her head on the pavement.’
‘I didn’t mean to – I explained all this later – she just gave me a shock, that’s all.’
‘That’s what you said later to the police,’ says Shaw. ‘The manager of the cafe called them and you were questioned but Rosa didn’t want to press charges. It seems she had a soft spot for you.’
‘There was no need for the police to be called,’ I say, my hackles rising. ‘The manager overreacted. Rosa knew it wasn’t my fault. The police could see it was just a misunderstanding. Christ, there are more serious crimes being committed in Soho than that, Dr Shaw. They didn’t want to waste their time on something as trivial as a woman falling over.’
‘I think you lashed out at Rosa because you were scared,’ she says, putting the notes on the floor beside her feet. ‘That’s what happened, isn’t it, Kate? You didn’t fall over, you had a hallucination, isn’t that right?’
Why is she doing this? Why won’t she just let it go?
‘It was a momentary thing, just a memory,’ I say. ‘Nothing serious.’
Shaw nods. ‘And have you had anything like this since? Any more hallucinations?’
‘No,’ I reply, making sure to hold her gaze. ‘I can assure you, I haven’t.’
‘Are you being honest with me, Kate?’
‘Yes.’
She picks up her notebook and turns to a fresh page. I look at the clock and wonder how many more questions Shaw has waiting for me; how much more of my life I have to expose to her. As long as we don’t go back to Syria, I tell myself – as long as we don’t do that – then I can cope with anything.
15
Thursday 16 April 2015
The sheets are hot and moist against my skin as I come round. The room is dark. It’s still night. I try to remember how I got home but my brain is mush and the only thing I recall is sitting in a bar talking about striking lorry drivers. After that, all is a terrifying blank.