Where the Memories Lie

 

As I waited I thought about the last time I’d stood here, calling for Katie. It was months after Chris had split up with her and she hadn’t been round to see me, which was weird. I mean, I knew she was devastated, but she practically lived at my house whenever she could. She never wanted to be at home. And yet, after Chris, she avoided me. I’d stood in the doorway asking Jack if she was in. It took a few seconds for his drunken eyes to turn into something lecherous and predatory, as if he was about to lunge forward and attack me. It had creeped me out. I fought the urge to run back down the path, screaming, or to throw up. Or both. I couldn’t wait to get away from there when he said she wasn’t in. After he closed the door and I was walking back up the path I felt that horrible sensation of someone watching me. I glanced back, expecting to see Jack leering out of the lounge window, but instead, the corner of the curtain in Katie’s room dropped suddenly.

 

I shivered then, just thinking about Jack again, and was about to turn and go when a dark figure loomed behind the glass panel in the door and Rose appeared.

 

93

 

Sibel Hodge

 

‘Hi.’ I smiled when she opened the door. ‘How are you?’

 

She didn’t smile back. ‘There must’ve been a mix-up. I had the stitches out yesterday at the surgery,’ she said gruffly. ‘I don’t need a nurse’s visit.’

 

‘Oh, right. Good. I’m not here about that. I actually wanted to ask you something about Katie.’ I braced myself for an outburst of anger but she just stared at me impassively. ‘Can I come in for a minute?’

 

She turned around and walked up a tight corridor with the original threadbare carpet that had been in fashion in the seventies but was now stained, garish. I left the door ajar slightly, just in case I needed to make a quick getaway, and followed her into the kitchen, which was also stuck in a seventies time warp, all avocado green Formica and mustard lino on the floor. Dirty cups and plates were piled up in an equally dirty sink stained with a thick layer of grime and limescale. The surfaces were covered with crumbs and food-encrusted utensils. A packet of butter was open, oozing its yellow creaminess down the front of a cupboard and onto the floor. Empty bottles of gin and vodka and whisky spilled out of a black rubbish bag in the corner of the room. The overpowering odour of urine and alcohol made the back of my throat close. I pictured Katie living in amongst all this and felt a stab of sadness.

 

She unscrewed the top from a bottle of cheap supermarket brand whisky and poured out half a pint glass. She took a big gulp and narrowed her eyes at me over the rim. ‘Want a drink?’ As she set it back on the Formica worktop, some whisky sloshed onto the floor.

 

‘No, thanks. I wanted to ask if you’d ever heard from Katie.’

 

‘Don’t be stupid.’ She took another gulp. Swished it round her mouth. Swallowed. Her gaze locked on mine. ‘Why?’

 

94

 

Where the Memories Lie

 

‘I was just . . . I was just thinking about her. You know, wondering what happened to her. Where she was. What she was up to. Don’t you ever think about it? The last time I asked you if you’d heard from her you got really angry with me for bringing it up, and I’m sorry, but I—’

 

‘That’s because Katie’s an ungrateful bitch.’ She slammed the glass down.

 

I tried to suppress a gasp but I’m sure a little slipped out. No matter what Anna did, I would never call my daughter a bitch.

 

And seeing things now, really seeing things for the first time, it was actually a miracle that Katie hadn’t left home before she was eighteen.

 

‘Fucking ungrateful from the minute she could talk. She was a nasty piece of work. A liar! She left me here to look after myself in my old age. I gave birth to her and she never gave a toss about us!’