‘I feel like this is all my fault,’ he says. ‘I shouldn’t have gone out. I should have stayed with you. I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ I tell him. ‘I’m a big girl now.’
My head is sore and it hurts to speak. I watch as he pulls out a chair and sits down. He rolls up his sleeves and scratches at his arms. I look at the silvery scars and remember that night. Him trying to grab the bottle from my hands and then the sound of broken glass. He notices me looking and stops scratching.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I’m so sorry, Paul.’
After that night things haven’t been the same between us. We sleep in separate bedrooms. We don’t eat together any more. And Paul is spending more and more time at work. We’re two strangers who just happen to live in the same house.
‘Let’s not worry about that now,’ he says gently. ‘You didn’t know what you were doing.’
He smiles and my stomach twists. Poor Paul. The day after, he didn’t even want to admit what I’d done to him.
‘I didn’t mean to do it.’
‘I know,’ he says. But I can see in his eyes he doesn’t trust me.
‘It’s fine, honestly.’ He attempts a smile. ‘Anyway, the doctor said you can go home now. The car’s out front, we can go whenever you’re ready.’
The thought of going home makes me think about Kate again; the news.
‘It just doesn’t seem real,’ I say, turning from him. ‘That she’s gone.’
‘I know,’ he says. ‘I can’t believe it either. She was an amazing woman. I just wish I hadn’t left you today. I’m an idiot. Or what was it Kate used to say? A plonker.’
He laughs sadly and my heart hurts.
‘She used to call me that too,’ I say as I ease myself off the bed and pick up my cardigan from the chair. ‘When we were kids.’
I see the two of us on Reculver beach. One of my clearest memories. I’m building a sandcastle and she’s digging. She was always bloody digging. Then she stops and I look up and she’s got this thing in her hands. ‘Is it a fossil?’ I ask as I come closer. ‘Dunno,’ she replies. ‘But I’m going to keep it.’ Next minute Mum’s looming over us and then she grabs the fossil thing from Kate’s hands and runs and throws it in the sea. ‘What did you do that for?’ Kate whines as my mother stomps back up the beach. ‘That was mine.’ Mum’s skirt is dripping wet from the waves and she scowls at us as she settles back on to her beach towel. ‘That was a bomb, Kate. You don’t mess around with things like that.’ And Kate nods her head, her face all serious, and carries on digging, but I can’t concentrate on my sandcastle because I’m confused. ‘What’s a bomb?’ I ask. ‘Is it a kind of dinosaur egg?’ And my mother and Kate roll about laughing and they look so funny I can’t help but join in. ‘Oh, Sally. You’re such a plonker.’
I close my eyes and bury my face into the woollen folds of the cardigan. I hear my mother’s voice as the tears finally come: You don’t mess around with things like that.
‘The silly, stupid fool,’ I cry. ‘Why did she always have to be so bloody brave? Why couldn’t she just leave those people to it; let them fight their own battles?’
‘Oh, Sally,’ says Paul. He stands up and takes the cardigan from my hands. ‘It’s all right. Let it out.’
He puts the cardigan on to the bed and takes me in his arms. He smells of Paul, of fresh soap and cake mix, though he never makes bloody cakes. It’s just there in his skin. It’s such a comforting smell, and I bury my face into his chest and breathe him in.
‘It’s been a massive shock for you,’ he whispers. ‘But we’re going to get through this. I promise you.’
‘I can’t,’ I say, extricating myself from his arms. ‘I will never get over it. Knowing that she died all alone, with nobody to comfort her in her final moments. I should have been nicer to her when she came to see me but all I could think about was everything she’d done. It was eating me up inside and now it’s too late.’
‘Shhh,’ says Paul, picking up my cardigan. ‘It’s okay. You can’t change the past. What’s done is done. And I’m going to help you, baby. We’ll get through this together. Now come on, let’s go home.’
I am being held captive in my own house. Paul is determined that I won’t sneak out to buy more booze so he has taken the rest of the week off work so he can stay here and play nursemaid.
He has been up to see me several times throughout the day, bringing me tea and biscuits and a pile of crappy magazines, and telling me that whenever I’m ready we can talk about Kate.
The lack of booze is making me jittery and my stomach is aching terribly. I’m going to have to find a way to sneak out and get some drink. Still, right now I feel strangely calm, though I don’t know how long that will last.