A shiver ran through me. I didn’t need to ask him what Uncle Malcolm had done.
‘He stole my childhood. He stole my trust. He stole my fucking innocence, Sue.’ I yelped as he grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. He was breathing rapidly, his nostrils splayed, his eyes fixed and staring.
‘James,’ I tried to prise his fingers off my skin but he was holding on too hard, digging in deeply as though he was rooting himself to me. ‘James, it’s okay. It’s over. It’s over.’
‘It’ll never be over.’
‘It is. It’s over. James, it’s over. Please, please let go of me. You’re hurting me. James, stop. He’s dead.’
He continued to stare at me as though he hated me, as though he wished me dead and then, as quickly as the anger had flared, it died. His eyes softened, his face crumpled and he wrapped me in his arms, pulling me into him and he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
Chapter 11
Brian is sitting on the sofa, Milly stretched out beside him, her head on his lap. He nods as I lower myself into the armchair.
‘Sue.’ My name seems to echo off the walls. ‘I think you need to see a doctor. You’re not well. You need help.’
It takes a while for the words to sink in, for me to understand what he’s implying.
‘I’ve rung Doctor Turner. She said she can see you tomorrow morning.’
‘I’m sorry?’
Brian leans forward, rests his chin on his hand, his brow furrowed. ‘I made you an appointment to—’
‘I know what you did. What I don’t understand is why.’
‘Because I’m worried about you!’ He shouts so loudly Milly and I both jump. ‘You haven’t been yourself since Charlotte’s accident and you’re getting worse, Sue.’
‘Of course I’m not myself. Our daughter is in a coma. She might die.’
‘Yes. Yes, she might. And she might not. She might make a full recovery and the doctors and nurses are doing everything they can but you need help too, Sue. I’ve tried my best to support you, but I don’t know how to talk to you anymore.’
‘I’m always here for you to talk to, Brian.’
‘Physically maybe, but not emotionally. You’re so locked in your own head I can’t reach you. Whenever I try you give me this wild-eyed look like … like … I don’t know,’ he shakes his head, ‘like I’m going to hurt you or something. Sometimes you look at me like you don’t know who I am.’
My heart aches at the pained expression on his face but I can’t say anything to reassure him. He’s right. I don’t know if I know him anymore.
‘Sue?’ Brian frowns at me from across the room. ‘Did you even hear what I just said?’
I look back at him. Is he trying to get me to see the doctor for nefarious reasons? If the world thinks I’m insane they’ll lock me up, leaving him alone with Charlotte. And then he could … the thought hangs, ugly and odious, in the air around me.
‘I heard what you said, Brian.’
‘And?’ His eyes search my face. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’m not going mad. And I’m not going to see the GP.’ I speak slowly, calmly and deliberately. If he really does think I’ve lost the plot I need to prove to him that I haven’t.
‘I never said you were mad, Sue. I just thought you might appreciate having someone to talk to that isn’t me. Someone …’ he pauses, ‘… professionally qualified to help you.’
‘I don’t need anyone’s help.’ The sentence comes out louder than I intended. ‘I’m just worried about Charlotte.’
‘So am I.’
‘Well then,’ I shrug, ‘so you understand.’
‘No, I don’t. How can I when you swing between secretiveness and bluntness at a moment’s notice? Why do you think I nearly crashed the car when you told me what she’d written in her diary? You can’t just throw something like that at me and expect me to just accept it. Show me the diary, Sue. Let me read it for myself. Maybe then I’ll understand.’
‘I can’t …’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I have to protect Charlotte.’
‘From what?’ He looks at me, uncomprehending, then he pales. ‘Not from me. For the love of God, Sue, don’t tell me you think I had anything to do with her accident?’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘What?!’ He throws back his head and makes a noise I’ve never heard before – half shout, half roar – then springs off the sofa. He crosses the living room and looms above me. ‘Tell me this is your idea of a sick joke, Sue. Tell me!’
He rages at me, his confusion, frustration and shock raining down like brimstone and I cross my arms above my head, tuck in my chin and curl into a ball.
‘Woah!’ The sound makes me peer up through my arms. Brian is shaking his head, his eyes wide with horror. He take a step backwards, his arms outstretched, his fingers spread wide, his palms exposed. ‘I wasn’t going to touch you. I’d never touch you, Sue. You know that.’ He sinks back onto the sofa and slumps forward, his head in his hands. ‘Dear God.’
We are both silent. The grandfather clock ticks in the corner of the room and Milly scritch-scratch-scratches at a flea bite.
‘Tell me you don’t believe that,’ Brian says, his voice a distant mumble, his head still tucked into his arms. ‘Tell me you don’t really believe I’m the reason Charlotte tried to hurt herself.’
My heart feels like it’s being ripped in two. One part wants to go over to Brian, throw my arms around him and tell him that I love him, that I trust him and that I truly believe that he’d never do anything to harm our daughter. The other part tells me to distance myself, trust nothing, no one.
‘Sue?’ Hurt is written all over his face. ‘Why would you think that? How could you think that?’
‘Did you?’
‘Did I what?’
‘Hurt Charlotte?’