‘You have no idea, you idiot,’ I yell as I jump up from the table and run up the stairs. ‘No idea at all.’
I’m back on the bed, lying in the darkness and thinking of Kate’s blasted body, when he comes in and turns on the light.
‘You know something, Sally, I’m getting a bit sick of this,’ he says, sitting down heavily on the bed.
‘Oh, will you please just go away,’ I say.
‘No, I will not just go away,’ he shouts, grabbing my wrist. He is squeezing tightly and it hurts. ‘I’m not some pest you can just click your fingers at and make disappear.’
‘Paul, stop it, you’re hurting me,’ I say, pulling my arm free.
I look at him. I hardly ever see him angry like this. His face is contorted, his nostrils flaring.
‘Look, I know you’re upset,’ he says. ‘But I’m sick of having to hold your hand through everything. I wanted a wife, not a bloody patient.’
‘My sister’s just died,’ I say, covering my face with my hands.
‘Yes,’ he shouts. ‘Your sister. A woman you cut out of your life because she said something you didn’t want to hear. That’s what you do to everyone, Sally. If you don’t like what they have to say you push them away.’
‘That’s not true,’ I say.
Why does he always take Kate’s side? Years ago I told him what she’d done and he still made excuses for her; said it was probably an accident. I’d felt guilty for telling him but I had to; I was sick of him talking about her like she was some saint. But it made no difference.
‘It is true,’ he goes on. ‘Kate and I became close when she came back here. She was devastated, in a real state over the death of a little boy out in Syria. But you’d know nothing about that, would you? As you told me when we first met, you were sick to death of hearing about Kate’s wonderful job. You were so jealous of her it was eating you up inside.’
I burrow my face into the pillow but he pulls my head up.
‘Don’t ignore me,’ he spits. ‘I’ve had years of that, of being ignored and treated like a bloody doormat. No, you’re going to listen to this. For once in your life you’re going to face up to things instead of running away.’
I sit up in the bed and look at him.
‘Kate told me things,’ he continues. ‘Like how your old man used to knock her about. No kid should have to put up with that.’
My body freezes when he mentions my father and suddenly the room is full of him.
She’s dangerous, Sally . . .
I put my hands over my ears but Paul yanks them away.
‘No,’ he yells, ‘you’re not taking the easy route like you always do. Kate was worried sick about you, she tried to help you even though she was battling her own issues.’
I shake my head. My eyes are heavy with tears and I wipe them away with the back of my hand.
‘She was in a really bad way,’ says Paul. ‘What happened in Syria had seriously affected her. She was having nightmares, hearing voices, seeing things.’
‘What do you mean, seeing things?’
‘She said she could see a kid in the garden next door,’ he says. ‘There are no kids living next door. Then I found sleeping pills in her bag, loads of them, super strength they were as well. She was taking handfuls of them every night. And she was drinking. Lots.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this?’
‘Because I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Didn’t want to worry me?’ I shout. ‘She’s my sister for God’s sake.’
‘Okay, I’ll be blunt, shall I?’ he says. ‘You were drunk and sitting about in your own filth and even if I had told you, what help would you have been? Kate was losing her mind and I had to deal with it all by myself while you sat in here drinking yourself stupid.’
‘She wasn’t losing her mind, don’t be ridiculous.’
‘That’s not what the police said.’
‘The police?’ My head is spinning as I try to take it all in.
‘She was arrested,’ he says, his voice quivering. ‘She’d had a set-to with the neighbours. Accusing them of things. Then she broke into their shed in the middle of the night and they called the police. I’ve never seen her in such a state – she was completely delirious. The police psychiatrist interviewed her. Said she’s got PTSD. You know, like soldiers get.’
‘What was she accusing them of?’
‘Oh, something about a child. I’m sure it’s to do with what happened to that boy in Aleppo –’
‘Hang on,’ I say. ‘You said you’d never seen her in such a state before. Were you with her when she broke into the shed?’
His face flushes and he turns to the window.
‘I’d popped in to see if she was all right.’
‘In the middle of the night?’
‘I was on my way back from a late one at the office,’ he says brusquely. ‘Listen, that’s not the point. What matters is that your sister was arrested, she was detained under the bloody Mental Health Act, and I was the one who had to deal with it.’
Nothing about this makes sense and Paul is talking so fast it’s hard to keep up.