Page 60 of Cuckoo

I look at my name, carefully printed on the envelope, and my heart sinks. This is not Noah’s handwriting. His strangespidery script is far away from this careful rounded lettering. I close my eyes for a moment to compose myself, allow myself to grieve the loss of that fantasy. Of course it’s not from Noah. I doubt he’s even allowed to write to me, with Lilah’s trial still ongoing. I rip the envelope open at the top and pull out the letter, my eyes scanning it quickly.

Dear Claire,

It will never not be strange to be writing to you in this situation, but I’m glad I can give you some comfort and support. I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through. I hope you’re okay, and that they are treating you well. I’m trying to be positive, and not to worry about you in there all alone, but it’s hard. I imagine when I next see you for the trial, it will hopefully bring me some peace.

I think about you every day. The media went quiet for a while but it’s busier since the trial began. You’ve been in the news often. They haven’t used the best photo of you, I’ll be honest… In fact, the media have been horrible about your whole situation. I think when you get out you should really avoid newspapers and sites. Definitely don’t google yourself!

But you will get out, Claire. I know that’s not you, the person the media are making you out to be, and I’m happy to testify in court to say so. I know it was an accident. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I should have checked in more often, made sure you were okay. Maybe if I had gone to see Lilah with you, this could have ended differently.

But I check in with your lawyer’s junior often and she has kept me semi up-to-date and assures me that you are not guilty of murder– though I didn’t need a lawyer to tell me that!

I suppose what I’m trying to say, Claire, however incoherently, is that I believe in you. I believe what you have said, I trust you, and I am here for you. I’ll be following the trial every day, and remember – whatever you need, whether it’s someone to listen while you cry and rage, or just to forget all of this and talk about the latest work gossip (Fiona from marketing snogged Brian from tech!!!), I am here for you, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry you are going through all of this.

All my love,

your friend, Sukhi x

P.S. If you want anything, magazines etc., let me know and I’ll get it sent if you can tell me how. Or maybe call me? Or write to me, whatever you want. Or don’t. Whatever’s good for you.

My eyes have welled up and I hastily shove the letter back into its envelope so that I don’t cry all over it and smudge the writing. I sit in silence for a while, overcome with emotions that I struggle to identify, reminded of the stakes for Sukhi as she sat up there and defended me in a room ready to hate me and anybody on my side. Gratitude for all of her lovelythoughtful letters, and the reminder that there’s something waiting for me on the outside. Awe that someone I’ve known for a relatively short time is so trusting of me. Love that I didn’t know I had, for Sukhi and her kindness. These are all positive emotions, so I don’t know why I feel so mournful, so undeserving. I feel like this kindness is too much. The fact that someone would even sit down and take time out of their day to hand-write me all these letters, knowing I haven’t replied to most of them… it feels baffling. It feels as though it’s something that happens to other people. To the Lilahs of this world, not the Claires. The Claires don’t deserve kindness or love. But then again, I suppose the Lilahs of this world don’t deserve death.

Chapter Fifty-Two

15 June 2025

Dear Diary,

Noah and I have put the Sukhi argument behind us. He’s promised to schedule another time to meet her and Fateh, and said he’ll set an entire day aside in case we want to do something fun like go to the zoo. I think he knows that seeing cute animals is my weakness and I won’t be able to say no.

At breakfast yesterday I found he’d made me a little zoo of paper animals, all with apologies written on them.

Sorry I’m shit!

Sorry I am flaky and rubbish

Sorry I work too much

Sorry I didn’t get to meet your friend

Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!

Sorry! Let’s go to the zoo? Sukhi can come?? (A better zoo than this one…)

He’d made them a pen out of five forks and had put the origami animals inside.

He makes it so difficult for me to stay annoyed with him.

Claire

Chapter Fifty-Three

I do not want to return to that courtroom. I am exhausted. My headache is now a constant distracting thrum, and we have fallen into an unspoken ritual whereby whenever we have a break, Grosvenor silently slides two Ibuprofen over to me with a glass of water. I think she’s noticed how I’m constantly massaging my temples, trying to ease out the months of stress that are reverberating painfully against my skull.

For just a moment, I close my eyes and wonder if there is some way that I can hide the Ibuprofen from her, put them under my tongue temporarily, hoard them up and then end this quickly. But a memory stirs, some sort of documentary I must have watched sometime, and I’m sure the quantities it would take to kill me would be impossible to squirrel away. As though on cue, a streaking pain almost blinds me, ripping through from the back of my skull, and I find myself acknowledging that I would be totally incapable of turning down any painkiller offered to me, even if death were the reward. I squeeze my eyes shut and begin to massage my temples, already reaching for the glass of water in front of me.

‘Migraine?’ one of the prison guards asks.

‘Mmm,’ I grunt back.

---