Page 61 of Good Bad Girl

Clio doesn’t like his tone or the way he is looking at her. “She knew she was supposed to but... I don’t know.”

“Sometimes patients don’t take them on purpose. Try not to be too hard on yourself. It’s not your fault.” Clio hadn’t thought that it was until now. “Do you want to see her?” he asks when she doesn’t respond. Clio’s words get stuck so she nods, and it is enough for him to understand and lead the way. “We did everything we could for her,” the doctor says when they reach the quiet room the hospital reserves for moments like this. When people say they did everything that they could, it always sounds like they didn’t. And it feels as though they are all accusing her of not doing enough: the care home staff, the police, the doctor.

She’s been cast in the role of bad daughter one last time.

The too tall and thin doctor stoops to open the door, revealing a scene Clio would rather not see. Now that she’s here she doesn’t want to go inside. She doesn’t want to be any closer than this, but her feet carry her forward. Clio cries when she sees her mother’s face. She didn’t think that she would feel like this, wasn’t sure if she would feel anything at all. Anticipation and reality are rarely a perfect match.

Edith’s skin has a grayish tint to it and her eyes are closed. There are tubes coming out of her nose, and wires connecting parts of her to a machine. Clio wants to stop crying—she feels embarrassed by her emotion—but she can’t. The doctor gives her a well-practiced look of pity and offers some insincere words of comfort. He mistakes her tears of relief for tears of sorrow. That’s what they really are: tears of relief and regret.

“I’ll leave you alone with her,” the doctor says, already backing out of the room. Clio almost begs him to stay.

“How long does she have?” she asks.

“Not long. It’s hard to say exactly. If I had to guess, a few hours.” Fresh tears fall from Clio’s eyes without permission. “She’s unconscious, but your mother might still be able to hear you. So if there’sanything you want to say, it might not be too late,” he tells her, and Clio wonders what he means by that. Maybe everyone has something they wish they had said to a parent while they still could.

Clio thanks the doctor, waits for him to leave, then wipes away her tears. The sun is starting to rise outside. A new day. Probably her mother’s last. Clio takes out her phone and calls Jude again, her frustration increasing with every unanswered ring. She leaves a message this time. She won’t call him again. Edith looks so old lying there in the bed. So small, so fragile, so helpless. Just a shadow of the strong, foreboding woman she used to be. Clio stands as near to the bed as she can without touching it. Then she leans down, close enough to whisper in her mother’s ear, hoping that she can still hear her.

“What did you tell the police, you silly old fool?”

Patience

I open my eyes and sit up fast, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings before remembering where I am.

“Day’s a-dawning. You okay over there?” asks Liberty from her bed. “Congratulations on surviving your first night in the clink!” I blink, adjusting to the bright light, and look around the cell. I was having a nightmare, and appear to have woken up in another. “They turn on the lights at seven every morning. I like to pretend it’s the sun,” Liberty says, sitting up and stretching. Her blond curls are a little flat on one side from being slept on, and the freckles on her nose are even more noticeable than last night. “Come on, no time to dillydally. Got to get up, get washed, get dressed. Breakfast will arrive soon. I’ll be off to the library later, so you’ll have to get by on your own for a bit.”

“What did you say?” I ask.

“I said you’ll have to get by on your own for—”

“No. The other bit. You’re going to the library?”

“Yes.”

“Can I come?”

“To the library? Not on your nelly. They won’t let you out of your cell until you are in the system. If you’re that desperate to read a book, you’re welcome to borrow one from my shelf—”

“My mother works in the library and I have to see her,” I blurt out. The look on Liberty’s face immediately suggests I shouldn’t have.

She shakes her head and her curls shake with it. “Frankie the librarian is your mum?” I nod and the residue of a frown lingers on Liberty’s face. “Well, that’s thrown a spanner in the works. Do you know how unpleasant things could get for her, and for you, if people in here knew that your mother is one of the staff?”

“I... didn’t think of that. I really need to see her and I trust you.”

Liberty’s smile has vanished and the expression on her face is one I can’t read. She takes a step toward me, then another.

“You might be pretty but you are also pretty stupid,” she says, standing too close now. “What was the first rule I taught you about surviving in this place?”

I try to take another step back but I am against the wall. When I try to speak my voice comes out in a whisper.

“Never trustanyone.”

Clio

Clio leaves her mother’s bedside in search of coffee. She needs something to help her stay awake and get through this. It’s still early, but the hospital has come to life since the sun came up. She can’t help staring at all the people she passes and wondering why they are here. So many of their faces are painted with worry, fear, and pain. But some show signs of optimism or even joy. She feels jealous of the ones with hope in their eyes, it is such a precious thing to have.

Clio finds a small café on the ground floor and buys a black coffee and a vegan KitKat. Her mother taught her that breakfast was the most important meal of the day, so she has always refused to eat a healthy one. She sees the small envelope in her bag that Frankie gave her and decides to open it. Inside she finds a silver ring shaped like a ladybug. She slides the ring onto her finger, it fits, and Clio feels like she is falling. She hurries back through the maze of staircases and corridors to Edith’s room, and it is a shock when she opens the door and sees that her mother is no longer alone.

“You got my messages, then?” Clio asks, quickly stepping inside.

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