The Last Thing I Remember Page 12

  They’re here making the bed.

  ‘But, Lisa, did you tell the police that?’

  Lucinda is whispering.

  ‘Well, no, I didn’t say that. I mean, I’m in enough trouble already, aren’t I?’

  ‘I think you should have said. I mean, what did he need to know for?’

  Know what?

  ‘Lots of people are interested in how a life-support machine works. I tell people all the time! He didn’t look like a murderer. He looked kind of nice.’

  ‘Jesus, Lisa. Your taste in men is worse than your taste in underwear.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing. Seriously. Nothing.’

  So maybe he was trying to kill me. This is all so hard to understand. Why would someone try to kill me? What did I do?

  What did I fucking do?

  I’ve decided.

  What I mean is . . . I’VE DECIDED.

  For some reason I can remember Adam saying that it wasn’t up to me to decide anything so I may as well not bother saying, ‘I’ve decided.’ But I remember that annoyed me and I feel sure that recently I’ve been deciding things that don’t include Adam. Anyway, I’VE DECIDED that the only thing I can do is get better. If I don’t get out of here soon someone is going to switch me off. You may think I’m sounding ambitious given my circumstances. But I don’t have an option, do I? So as of now I’m going to prove Doctor Doom wrong. I’m going to pull myself out of this.

  I shall implement a regime. A workout. Like we do at baseball. If I do mental stretches maybe they will build the channels in my brain.

  I alternate stretching with searching for memories. I’m trying to stay conscious in my head for as long as possible. No sinking.

  From seeing Adam in the hat at our wedding in Southwark Register Office, I’ve started to remember so much more about me and about us, before we were married.

  I remember school. I remember being asked to read out loud in English and being unable to get the words out. Stuttering. And asking the English teacher not to ask me again, and him understanding. I remember being frightened of this one particular teacher. Mr Johnson, he was called. He stared at me. All the time. Even in the playground he would search me out and follow me with his eyes. I remembered having piano lessons with a man who always got me to start playing and then left the room and watched me through a crack in the door. He thought I couldn’t see his cheek pinched against the door frame. I could hear him breathing. I gave up the piano and my mother slapped me around the face for it. Said that I was lazy. I remembered saying nothing. Just standing there with my face stinging. No tears. No cry. And that made her slap me again.

  I remember now how I first met Adam – in a bar, after an office party. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Adam beckoning me and laughing and I thought, wow, how amazing to be so confident. I remember how he talked and talked and talked. And then all the next week he would call me all the time and we’d talk for ages and as soon as I had said goodbye and put the phone down he would call me back and say he missed talking to me and then talk some more. And then he asked me out. And at first I said no. I said I didn’t want a boyfriend. But he seemed different. He was so pleased with himself that he didn’t need to undermine me.

  I remembered our first date – well, our first proper date. We met at the tube station. And he was late. I went back into the tube station to find a map to see if I could find his road, in case I’d got it wrong and he was at home. I stared at the map for like ten minutes. And asked the man at the ticket desk. And when I went back outside he was standing waiting. And he asked me where I’d been. And he said he’d been waiting for over half an hour. I knew he hadn’t. I wondered why he’d lied.

  I had bought two bottles of wine because I didn’t know what was good wine and what was bad wine, because I’d never really bought wine before, and I thought that if I bought two maybe one might be right. He took the bag, I thought to carry it. But he pulled the bottles out one at a time, and frowned at each one. ‘Next time,’ he said, ‘just buy one good bottle.’ I wanted to cry. Then he kissed me on my nose and laughed. He put the bottles down and picked me up in his arms and swung me around like you would a child. And then he handed me back the bag. Later, he said the wine tasted corked. I had no idea what that meant. He was much older than me, you see. He was wiser and more sophisticated. He had opinions. I didn’t have any opinions. He was confident and successful. He knew everything about everything. And I felt safe.

  ‘It’s HIS brother.’

  The door has opened and there’s a loud whisper.

  ‘What? Lisa, what are you going on about now?’

  That’s Beth.

  ‘Lucinda said to tell you, it’s HIS brother, not hers.’

  ‘Adam’s brother? Didn’t they check to see if he had a brother?’

  ‘Who?’

  They are both still whispering.

  ‘The police!’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m just telling you what Lucinda said. Apparently he’s called Ash. He’s saying that he never said he was her brother. Said he was her brother-IN-LAW. He didn’t, though. He’s a liar. I know what I heard.’

  The door closes.

  Brother-IN-LAW.

  I don’t remember any brother-in-law. Brother-in-law.

  Why doesn’t that make me feel any safer?

  30

  Kelly

  Day Five – 5 p.m.

  I talked to Sarah for ages this morning. And that nurse. She kept asking me about Adam’s brother but I really don’t know anything. Not about him. Sarah never mentioned him. At least it’s not Adam’s fucking ghost. Beth said she doesn’t think that ghosts wear parkas.

  I lost it slightly. Well, this guy Ash sounds fucking weird. I mean, where’s he fucking sprung from. Sitting by her bed? In the night? Fuck. What was he doing here? Any brother of Adam’s has got to be fucking bad news.

  The nurse parked me in the Family Room. She got me a cup of tea. With two sugar cubes. The box is holding up. Just. I had a talk with myself and told me to grow some fucking bollocks. I used to have bollocks.

  Did I tell you yet how I chucked Kathryn Cowell’s lighter over the other side of the wall? God, I was so fucking proud of myself then. Ask me where I got those bollocks from. Ask me where I got the fucking bollocks to go back into the school, the same night, at like ten o’clock, when actually only the cleaners are there, and unlock Kathryn Cowell’s fucking locker with my identical pink padlock key, take out her fucking lighter (the one with her initials on) and then, and this was the totally freaky bit, walk back towards the Rec, like when it was literally totally dark and full of police ribbon, and chuck it over the wall. I was shitting my pants. Seriously. I was on a total mission. I guess this is what that lady Fleur was talking about when she said – now what the fuck did she say? Oh yeah, ‘Be the mistress of your own destiny.’ I really liked that – made me think I was a fucking superhero – but, anyway, maybe she weren’t expecting that, right?

  You probably think I was mad. You probably think I shouldn’t interfere with the police stuff. You don’t know Kathryn Cowell. You don’t know what our school is fucking like. You don’t know what happened to James Arney.

  That totally freaked me out, when I heard about James. That’s what made me do it. He had been taken to this like special burns unit thing in Cambridge. They came and got him in a helicopter from the hospital and his mum went with him in the actual helicopter. And it wasn’t just the fact that the burns were so bad that upset me, it was also cos I found out from Clare that everyone was saying that Wino had done James cos he wouldn’t cough up his dinner money. And then it turned out that one of Kathryn’s other twat gang members, Tom Bush, had already relieved him of his dinner money when he’d arrived at school that morning in the bike sheds, which is what James had said all along but Wino didn’t believe him, and Kathryn Cowell said to torch him. So they did. They’d set fire to his trousers in the boys’ toilets. They’d sprayed him with lighter fluid. A
nd he’d like fainted. It was first lesson so everyone thought he must just be away. Then they set fire to the toilets too. And then, to try to make it look like an outside job, they chucked the petrol over the wall outside the back of the toilets. And that’s why the police had decided that it must have been some kind of rival gang or something. But everyone in the entire fucking school knew that it wasn’t. Not that anyone would tell the police that, though, cos if you did it would be your house next.

  When I’d told Sarah that I was gonna actually go and get the lighter and chuck it over the wall, she said I shouldn’t do it. She said she’d been joking when she said it was a good idea and that it was far too dangerous and that my mum would kill her if she found out. But I said it was like zero risk. There’d be no one in the locker room, cos everyone had been sent home and anyway it was too late. I totally geekified my uniform – I found some proper school socks, I got the boring shoes my mum bought me at the start of the term, no more turned-up collar and Sarah had already dyed my hair back to my normal boring mouse brown. With no make-up, I looked like I was fucking seven years old or something. I said to Sarah, ‘So am I invisible, then?’ and she pretended she couldn’t see me. She kept saying, ‘Where are you, where are you?’ So, while I was still giggly after our self-defence class and everything, I walked back to school. I went in through the side door by the art block, which you can unbolt from the outside, and then went down by the bike sheds next to the humanities block and into the locker room. And I never even nearly got seen by anyone. It was amazing. I walked right under the broken CCTV outside the Rec and just for a laugh I jumped up onto the bench just to see if the baseball bat was still on the roof of the bus shelter. And it was still there. Waiting. Probably covered in their prints. But the pigs don’t ever bother to look up there. It’s way too much trouble. Requires way too much thinking, looking up. I kept in the shadows of the hedges and garden walls, avoiding the streetlights, like she said, with my head down – not too far down cos that’s weird, just down enough not to meet anyone’s eye. People look at pretty people, she said. Stare at them. People don’t like pretty people because they’re pretty, so they stare. People are attracted to blond hair. Glittery lip gloss in Pepto-Bismol pink. Better to not be pretty, then. Better not to be noticed. I didn’t see anyone. And no one saw me.

  Afterwards I went straight back to Sarah’s because I was way excited. I was so hot and buzzing. Sarah’s car wasn’t there so I figured she must have just gone somewhere cos she always parked right outside. So I just sat on her doorstep and waited. And got my breathing back to normal. I just needed to be quiet for a bit. And then a door opened inside the house, and I heard Adam’s voice. And I was just about to leave because I never go in when Adam is there, when I heard Sarah as well, although she was talking really quietly. And he said, and I remember it word for word, he said, ‘You’re a fucking whore. Pretending to go to the chip shop with the next-door neighbour’s little girl. What were you doing? Looking out for men to fuck? What are you?’ and she didn’t answer. So he repeated it, he said, ‘You’re a fucking whore, Sarah. What are you?’ And there was a bang, like a thud, followed by a cry. And then Sarah said in a fucking weird fucking small voice, ‘I’m a fucking whore.’ And I have never been so scared in my entire fucking life. That’s what Adam was like. I bet his fucking brother is too.

  31

  Sarah

  Day Six – 9 a.m.

  ‘Morning, Sarah.’

  Morning, Beth.

  ‘Morning, Mrs Beresford.’

  Morning, Mother.

  ‘Is Mr Malin in today, do you know at all? My daughter wants to see him.’

  ‘Your daughter?’

  More drama?

  ‘My other daughter, Carol. Didn’t you meet her yesterday?’

  ‘No, I don’t think I did. I can check for you. Would you like some tea? I think they are doing the rounds.’

  ‘Brian is getting it, actually. But thank you.’

  The door opens.

  ‘Morning, Mother.’

  Here she is.

  ‘Hello, love. Did you sleep well?’

  ‘No, Mother, of course I didn’t sleep well. That Travelodge is a shithole.’

  ‘Your father finds it very pleasant. It’s the buffet breakfast.’

  ‘I might go and stay at Sarah’s.’

  There go my clothes.

  ‘Do you think you should? It’s such a rough area. I always told her it was rough.’

  ‘Maybe the thought of me rifling through her clothes will wake her up. WAKE UP, SARAH. THAT PURPLE VELVET SCARF IS ALL MINE.’

  She is quite funny at times. You can have my scarf, just get me out of here.

  ‘Have the police found out what they were doing in White Hart Lane yet? Maybe I could find a diary or something. Has anyone looked on her laptop?’

  ‘Brenda – you know, the next-door neighbour – told the police that she was at the community centre.’

  ‘The community centre? What for?’

  The community centre in the park. I remember. That’s the place I used to go to with Kelly, I think.

  ‘Sarah was seeing a mediation counsellor.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘It’s some kind of therapy for couples.’

  I’m quite sure I didn’t. Doesn’t sound like me at all.

  ‘That’s what Brenda said. I can’t imagine my daughter going in for some kind of counselling, can you?’

  ‘You mean you can’t imagine your daughter’s husband going in for some kind of counselling. What could a counsellor tell Adam, do you think? He was the world fucking expert on everything.’

  ‘The police think they must have been having difficulties.’

  ‘What kind of difficulties? Why doesn’t anyone ever say what they mean? Perhaps Adam’s brother can tell us. He’s coming in today. Ashley.’

  What? Don’t let him near me. Don’t let him in. LISTEN TO ME. DO NOT LET HIM IN!

  ‘What do you mean? Didn’t you say he was under arrest?’

  ‘They let him go. He had nothing to do with it. Total alibi. He was landing at the airport when the mugging happened. Arrived at Sarah’s house and it was pitch black. Someone told him that they’d been brought up here after the accident. It was late.’

  HE’S A LIAR.

  ‘Well, he’s been hanging around here enough. He’s not welcome, is he, Brian? Where’s he gone now?’

  HE WILL TRY TO KILL ME.

  ‘Langlands called me to say that they’d let him out and that he wanted to come in. He tried you and Dad but you didn’t pick up. What could I say?’

  ‘Here’s your father – didn’t they have the biscuits, Brian?’

  ‘No, June. No biscuits. I can go to the vending machine. They have muesli bars.’

  ‘Dad, what did the police say about the mediation counselling?’

  ‘I’m not sure about muesli bars. I don’t really care for them. They hurt my gums.’

  ‘Carol, I have no idea, you’ll have to ask your mother. Do you want a muesli bar or not, June? June?’

  ‘Brian, was it cranberry or plain?’

  I love the fact that the muesli bar is taking on a life of its own.

  ‘I don’t think there’s any point in you getting upset about Sarah seeing a counsellor, Carol. No, thank you, Brian.’

  ‘I’ll have a muesli bar, Dad. I’m not getting upset. I’m just wondering why the police want to know. What can that possibly have to do with anything?’

  ‘It’s a murder case, Carol, that’s why.’

  Since when?

  ‘No, it is not, Dad. Murder means it was planned. It was a mugging that went wrong. Unlawful killing is what they said.’

  ‘The police are only doing their job, Carol.’

  ‘I can quite see that someone might have liked to murder Adam. I myself could have done it a number of times. But no one would do anything to Sarah. She was a mouse. A sweet, quiet, dull little mouse.’

  ‘She was not dull.’
>
  Thank you, Dad.

  ‘Can you not talk about her as though she’s not here? What are you playing at, Carol? Did you just come here to cause trouble?’

  That’s my dad. Angry suits him.

  ‘She just lacked confidence, Brian, didn’t she? That’s all. She was such a happy child. I don’t know what happened. Do you remember, Brian? When she won that medal for Irish dancing? When she played a donkey in the school nativity?’

  I remember James Stock. He sat on me and ripped my dress open.

  ‘What about when she cut all her hair off.’

  ‘That was when she was older.’

  ‘She was what, seven? Eight? Why did she do that?’

  ‘Carol. Can you stop? You aren’t helping.’

  ‘Why does any child do something naughty? You’ll have to ask her. If she ever bothers to wake up.’

  ‘June! Can you not speak like that? What are you thinking?’

  ‘She hacked it off, Carol, since you ask. She looked like she belonged in a workhouse.’ ‘What about when she broke her ankle? And didn’t tell you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She didn’t tell you that she had broken her ankle. You didn’t take her to hospital for three days. What kind of child wanders around with a broken ankle without telling anyone about it? A quiet, dull one.’

  The door is opening again.

  ‘Hello, Mr and Mrs Beresford.’

  ‘Oh, hello, Mr Malin. This is my daughter Carol.’

  ‘I’m sorry for the sad circumstances, Carol.’

  ‘Oh, you’re Mr Malin. I get to meet you, at last! I wanted to talk to you, as we seem to have some differing opinions here about the prognosis of my sister.’

  ‘Yes, I heard that you spoke to my colleague, Dr Donne. I’m sorry about that. We don’t always share the same views over intra-axial haemorrhages.’

  ‘And what is your view then, Mr Malin?’

  ‘I’m sure we can talk about that at some point, Carol, but right now I need to talk to your parents about Sarah’s medical history.’

  ‘What about it?’