Page 45 of Insomnia

“I’m trying to forget her,” I say defensively. “She’s dead.”

“As far as I can tell, trying to forget her isn’t working that well for you. Perhaps what you need is to try to understand her.”

“I don’t want to understand her.” I’m like a toddler stamping my foot.

“That’s not true. You don’t want toforgiveher. But I think you very much want to understand her.” There’s a long pause where I say nothing, and then she says she’s got to go and she’ll check on me in a couple of days. “Think about what I said,” she finishes. “What have you got to lose?” And then she’s gone.

WhathaveI got to lose? Her last words still echo in my head. I have so much to lose. My family. My job. My sanity. But they’re falling away from me anyway. And she’s right. When I try to think about my mother’s life other than that night, there’s nothing. A void on either side. Where would I start getting to know her though?

Of course. There’s only really one place I can find out anything about my mother. Hartwell House’s Secure Unit. She lived there for more than thirty years. She was probably their longest resident. Maybe they can tell me more about her. Phoebe’s visited and I’m sure they’ll understand my need to lay ghosts to rest.

I find Hartwell’s contact details in my phone but can’t bring myself to dial. Instead, I send them an email from my work account to appear as professional and sane as possible, asking if I could come to talk to anyone who knew my mother, Patricia Bournett. I press send before I can change my mind and then take my phone and flop on the bed. My head is throbbing and the lyrics from that bloody song fill up my head again.

Finally I give up and search it on the iTunes store. Sweet Billy Pilgrim, “Candle Book and Bell.” I download the acoustic version and then hit repeat, the volume on low. Maybe this will help me doze. I close my eyes, and as the first notes kick in, I drift into a haze.

37.

The ringing phone wakes me and I’m shocked to see that it’s past two. I’ve slept for over three hours, even with the song playing around and around on an endless loop. My dry mouth tastes of daytime sleep and stale sour coffee, but when I see it’s Darcy calling, I sit up fast, my heart immediately racing, my headache gone.

“Hi, Emma? It’s me.”

“Hi.” I can barely get the words out. “Did you get anything from the cameras?”

“Not yet. Believe it or not you parked in a camera blind spot. I can see the edge of the passenger side of your car, but it doesn’t show the time you got in, and you pull out a few minutesafteryour mother died. So although it would be very tight timing, the police could still claim it was you.”

No no no.I’d been so sure this would be the end of it, and now I feel once again cut adrift. “But don’t panic,” he adds. “I’ve spoken to the hospital administrator and they’ve assured me that all the entrances have cameras covering all angles. So can you remember which exit you came out of? The one nearest your car park?”

“Yes. Yes!” My heart leaps. “The one where the Starbucks kiosk is. I didn’t come out of the main entrance that time. This one was closer to the wing.”

“Great,” he says. “I’ll get on it now. Chin up, Baby Spice. We’llget this sorted.” And then he’s gone before I can even say thank you.We’ll get this sorted. God, I bloody hope so.

My nerves are still on edge and I need to get out of this hotel room for a while. I should get some food even though I don’t feel much like eating. Between work and family, I’m not used to having all this time to myself. I brush my teeth and freshen up and then head out. It’s one of Will’s football juniors afternoons, and if I go at pick-up time, maybe I can talk to Robert. We can go for a coffee somewhere and I can tell him my theory about Will overhearing. Surely that will make sense to him?

I get to the football field and Michelle is waiting, and I can’t avoid her as she makes a beeline for me. She looks as tired as me. “I’m going crazy,” she says.Join the club.“Julian won’t even speak to me now. And this morning he left early when I was trying to talk to him.” Her bottom lip is scabby where she’s been biting at it. “I’m so done. I know he’s planning to leave, because he’s also pulled out of this stupid bar business. Alan rang last night to say—”

“I didn’t evenknowabout this stupid bar business,” I cut in and she looks shocked.

“God, really? Ugh. Men, what is wrong with them? I’m so sorry. I presumed you knew. Oh god, that means you don’t know...” She trails off.

“Don’t know what?”What now?

“Alan rang to say that Robert wanted to buy Julian’s share. He’s going to be the majority owner.”

“Robert is?” This day just gets better and better.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I would have told you, obviously. I’m guessing you’re not happy about it?”

“You guessed right.” She looks genuinely sorry for me and I get a stab of guilt. I know exactly why her husband is being such a bastard, and I should probably tell her. She deserves to know. But I’vegot enough problems right now. I look up. One of them is coming right toward me.

“Emma?” My sister doesn’t look at all happy to see me. “What are you doing here?”

“Will’s my child. I think the question is more what areyoudoing here?”

“Robert asked me to pick him up.” Michelle shrinks away to talk to some of the other waiting mums, leaving me and Phoebe alone. “You shouldn’t be here. He won’t like it,” she finishes.

“Ishouldn’t be here? Who the hell are you to say that?” I’m fiery anger to her ice. “And I didn’t realize that what Robert liked or didn’t like was so important to you.” I think of that hug I caught them in. How innocent was it really?

“What do you expect, Emma? After the walls in Will’s bedroom? After what the police are saying?” She glances around, checking that no one can hear her hissed accusations. “Robert took Will to a child psychologist this morning. He said he’s been through some kind of trauma. He said his behavior and this quietness is in keeping with PTSD. This is you, Emma. You’re acting like her, and you know it. So excuse me for trying to protect them.”

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