Where the Memories Lie
By: Sibel Hodge
I waved a hello to Mary, who was thankfully on the phone and couldn’t engage me in any conversation, and I stood in Tom’s doorway, staring at the sleeping, shrivelled form of a man who was possibly a murderer. A man I’d known for over twenty-five years. A man I’d looked up to and loved deeply. The father of my husband. The doting grandfather of my beautiful child. Whenever Charlotte or Anna were ill when they were little, he’d be the first one round, reading stories to them, making up all these funny accents for characters in the books. He spent hours with them, trying to keep them entertained so it took their mind off how they were feeling. When Anna had chickenpox one year, he read her stories by Roald Dahl all night, doing all these amazing voices and making her laugh. Ethan and Nadia and Chris said he’d always done the same thing for them when they were growing up. Even though he was rushed off his feet, he still always had an infinite amount of time for everyone else.
If it was true, the world as I knew it was about to slip from underneath my feet and send me crashing to the ground. And what about Ethan and Nadia and Chris? How would they feel? Charlotte and Anna and Lucas? This wasn’t just about Tom; it would involve the whole family. We lived in a small village. People would gossip and stare and point fingers. How could we face Rose if we knew Tom had killed her daughter? How could we face anyone? We’d have to move. That was all there was to it. Leave the village and move to a town miles away where no one knew us. But what about Charlotte’s A-levels and Anna’s school? Anna loved it here. She loved her teachers and was doing really well.
I rubbed at the throbbing ache behind my temples and sat down in a chair next to his bed, suddenly feeling light-headed.
I gripped the armrests, staring out of the window as the severity of 114
Where the Memories Lie the situation increased in magnitude. I worried about what would happen, desperately hoping there was still room for error and Tom was just confused about Katie.
I don’t know how much time passed as the afternoon drifted by and my stomach churned. I wanted to wake him and get it over with but I was afraid to, as well. Eventually, Tom’s voice made me look over sharply at him as he woke.
‘Who are you?’ He blinked sleepily at me.
‘Olivia,’ I said with none of the gentleness I usually reserved for my visits. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Are you a nurse?’
‘Yes, but I’m not your nurse. I’m your daughter-in-law.’
He looked sceptical. ‘No, you’re not. She’s blonde. Who are you?’
‘That’s Nadia who’s blonde. She’s your daughter.’
‘I don’t have a daughter.’ He sat up in bed and began fiddling with the blue waffled blanket.
‘I need to ask you something, Tom.’
‘I don’t need to go to the toilet.’
‘That’s good, but I need to ask you something else.’
‘It wasn’t my fault. It was an accident.’
I gripped the arm of the plastic chair harder, steadying myself for what he would say. ‘I’m sure it was, but I need to know exactly what happened.’
He shook his head, tears springing into his eyes. ‘It wasn’t my mess. I didn’t do it on the floor. Someone else . . . someone came in and did it when I was asleep.’
‘What?’
He pointed slowly to the bathroom with a shaky hand.
‘Accident. I forgot.’
‘You’re talking about having a bathroom accident? You didn’t get to the toilet in time, is that it?’ I tried to keep my voice calm while my heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears.
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He was getting agitated, flapping his hands in the air, his breathing coming fast, so I grabbed his hands and placed them in mine, even though I didn’t want to touch him.
‘It’s OK, don’t worry. The nurses see it happen all the time. Just breathe slowly.’
Tears dribbled down his cheeks. ‘It’s not me.’
‘Everything’s all right. No need to get upset, OK?’ I grabbed a wad of tissues from a box on top of his bedside cabinet and wiped his eyes.
He stared at the blanket and wouldn’t look at me. ‘You’re not like her, are you?’
‘Who?’
‘Eve. She doesn’t come anymore.’
I decided against telling him again Eve was dead. I didn’t think he could handle a fresh tide of grief in his fragile state. ‘She’s a bit busy today, but she’ll come soon.’ I patted his hand. ‘I’m Olivia.
Do you remember me?’
He looked at me then, his eyes watchful, flitting back and forth in their sockets. ‘You made me a chocolate cake.’