Where the Memories Lie

 

I was probably hysterical. Or having a breakdown. No, I actually think it was a way to get rid of all the nervous tension and worry and stress that had built up like a pressure cooker, waiting to explode. It had to go somewhere, I guess. I laughed and laughed and couldn’t stop. Then Anna was laughing, too, until tears streamed down her cheeks. I clutched my stomach, bent over double and howled. We were making so much noise that I didn’t hear Ethan coming in. It wasn’t until I saw him hovering in the kitchen doorway that my laughter faded to a dull tinkle.

 

He looked at us both with a confused, pinched frown. ‘What’s so funny?’

 

‘Charlotte’s got leukaemia,’ Anna and I said in unison.

 

242

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 

 

I needed to stay busy. I wanted something to take my mind off Charlotte, and going to work would’ve been the best solu-tion, but leaving Anna at home on her own in a house she was scared of while dealing with Charlotte’s leukaemia was out of the question. Luckily, the practice arranged for a locum nurse to come in and take over my shift for the next week.

 

I slipped out of bed, unable to sleep, just as it was getting light the following morning. Ethan was in Anna’s bed because she was in with me, but I didn’t want to wake him. He’d taken the news about Charlotte really badly on top of everything else. He’d cried.

 

A lot. Head in his hands, shoulder-shaking sobs, I’m talking about.

 

He was trying to be strong for us, I knew that. But inside he wasn’t dealing with things well. It felt like all of us were falling apart.

 

How did you get through something like this? Tom’s confession.

 

His suicide. Katie’s murder. Her pregnancy. Charlotte’s illness. The secrets and lies and unanswered questions.

 

One step at a time. That’s how we’d get through it. One tiny step at a time. We’d be all right. We had to be. Had to.

 

I walked into the kitchen, dug the waffle maker out of the cup-board and switched it on to heat up. Nothing happened. I flipped the Sibel Hodge switch a few times, waiting for the light to come on but it didn’t make any difference. There wasn’t a power cut because the fridge was still on. The fuse had blown, then. Well, I wasn’t about to ask Ethan to replace it like he normally did, not at the moment with all he had on his mind, but I couldn’t go back on my promise to Anna. Not now I’d managed to get her back here. Although I didn’t really want to ven-ture into the garage, either, where I knew Ethan’s toolbox was kept.

 

My gaze flicked out of the window to the garage. I’d have to go in there sometime. I was being pathetic. Katie wasn’t there. Her ghost wasn’t there. I had to get this over with and face my fears.

 

Plus, I hate to admit it, but a little morbid part of me was curious.

 

I unlocked the back door and squeezed my feet into a pair of Anna’s ballet-style flats that were two sizes too small. It was only about six metres to the garage door but it felt like two miles, as if I was walking down some kind of Alice-through-the-looking-glass tunnel and the closer I got the further away it seemed.

 

I stood outside it, my pulse hammering hard against the base of my throat. I undid the bolt and slowly pulled opened the door.