by Jane Corry
‘But Stefan …’ I still can’t say the word ‘father’ … ‘He said he wrote to you when I was eighteen.’
She nods. ‘He’d just been diagnosed with cancer then – slow-burning leukaemia – but it made him aware of his own mortality. He wanted to see you. Personally, I thought he had a right but David wouldn’t allow it. I made the mistake of showing him the letter.’
‘Had he known about Stefan before?’
‘No. I’d told him you were the result of a one-night stand with someone I didn’t know very well.’
I think back to those arguments between Mum and David just before the time of my A levels.
‘He was furious that you had a father in prison. And, well, he was jealous too. I could tell.’
‘Why? You didn’t feel anything for Stefan any more, did you?’
One look at my mother’s face provides the answer. ‘Sometimes,’ she says slowly, ‘you can’t help who you fall in love with. I loved David too, but in a different way. He could tell that. I made him promise never to tell you.’ She looks at me as if for confirmation.
‘He didn’t,’ I say truthfully.
‘So you can see why I was so upset when you went to work in a prison,’ continues Mum.
‘You knew Stefan was there?’
‘No. But I didn’t want to take any chances. When you told me about this man who claimed he was your father, I could hardly believe it. Out of all the prisons in the country, he was in that one.’
‘But you denied it.’
‘I had to. I was trying to protect you. You’d been through so much after Kitty. How would you cope with knowing your father was a murderer?’
‘I’d have liked to have known him better,’ I blurt out.
My mother draws me near to her. I breathe her in as I did when I was a child. ‘I know,’ she whispers. ‘And I took that away from you. I’m so sorry. Despite everything, I still can’t help thinking he would have been a good man in a different situation. Of course, he shouldn’t have killed that man while he was on remand. Or the other man in prison. But when we are young, we do some desperate things.’
Don’t I know that, all too well?
And now, as the court case looms, I have to face up to what I did myself all those years ago.
It makes me wonder.
Does bad blood run from one generation to the next?
If so, I have to find a way of stopping it. Whatever it takes.
59
August 2017
Kitty
Friday Mum came to visit not long after the trip to the zoo. At least, Kitty was pretty sure it wasn’t that long, although it was getting hard to tell now. She was so tired all the time. And The Monster felt as if it was going to burst her stomach. It looked like an enormous football.
‘The staff tell me you have been sleeping a lot,’ said Friday Mum. ‘Babies make you tired. I was the same with you and your sister.’
Sister. Kitty felt a jolt of jealousy at the word. Why could her sister walk and she couldn’t? Why could Alison talk while Kitty could only babble? It wasn’t fair.
‘Anyway, it won’t be long now,’ sighed Friday Mum.
Why did everyone keep saying that? What exactly were they waiting for?
‘Time to go,’ said Bossy Supervisor, coming into the community lounge. ‘The bus is waiting.’ Maybe this was it.
Friday Mum knelt down at the side of the wheelchair. ‘Isn’t this exciting! We’re off to see that doctor. The special one that Johnny’s mother found us. You’re going to have a little try-out – to see if you’re suitable for this new machine.’ Friday Mum held her hand. ‘Jeannie will be there too.’
Kitty felt a leap in her chest as well as fear. ‘Is she still angry with me for pushing Johnny? Will he be there?’
Friday Mum sighed. ‘I’m not sure what you’re saying, love, but there’s something I have to tell you. If it works, this machine won’t just improve your daily life. It will also allow you to tell us what happened in the accident.’
But she didn’t fucking know herself!
Friday Mum bit her lip. ‘And that might help your sister to get out of the trouble I mentioned earlier. That’s … well … that’s if you can remember.’
She had a strange face on, noticed Kitty, as though she didn’t like the taste of her own mouth.
‘The thing is, Kitty, that your sister thinks she pushed you into the road on the day of the accident.’
‘Really?’ asked The Monster, giving her a massive kick.
‘Of course it can’t be true,’ continued Friday Mum, taking her good hand and stroking it. ‘She’s just upset. It’s the accumulation of years of guilt because she wasn’t able to save you from the car.’
So it was a road accident, like Dawn’s!
‘All we need is for you to somehow say that your sister was innocent.’
Shake your head from side to side, Kitty told herself. Why should she help someone who could walk and talk?
Bugger. There it went again. Up and down.
‘They might not accept that,’ sniffed Friday Mum. ‘We know that you sometimes get your yeses muddled up with your noes. But the lawyer says that we might be able to use your picture board to show what happened. And if the new machine can help … well, that would be amazing.’
Friday Mum’s arms were around her now. ‘You’ve got to save your sister, Kitty. Or else she might go to prison.’
Good, Kitty told herself as The Monster battered her insides in agreement. Because if Half a Sister Ali really had pushed her into the road, prison was exactly what she deserved.
It was a long drive to the hospital. ‘It’s in London,’ chirped Friday Mum, who had become quite friendly with the driver and had her smiley face on.
The Monster kicked a reminder. ‘London,’ it seemed to say. ‘Don’t you remember?’
Yes! She could! Something about jeans and a place called Oxford Street. There was a teacher, too, who had been cross with her and another girl called … What was her name?
‘You look excited,’ said Friday Mum, watching her thump her knee with her fist. ‘I’ve got a good feeling about this machine, Kitty.’ Then her face went all flat. ‘I can’t believe your sister would have hurt you. There’s something not right with what she’s saying. And if you can remember, well, that would be wonderful!’
It was always a big deal getting in and out of the van. But this time, there were lots of young men in white uniforms to help her. Kitty felt like the Queen on her picture board as they wheeled her through the hospital corridors. Everyone smiled at her. Especially the doctor.
‘Welcome, Kitty.’ He was talking right at her as if he expected her to understand. She clapped her good hand on the side of the chair with approval. There was an ‘ah’ from the nurse next to her.
‘Now I don’t know how much you’ve been told, but we’re going to ask you to put on this funny hat.’
Look at all those coloured wires coming out of it! The other ends were attached to something that looked like a computer but bigger. Johnny’s family had had lots of computers. Johnny had always been on his. He should have paid her more attention.
‘The machine,’ said the doctor, ‘will send signals to your brain and that will tell us if you’re suitable for a new technique that’s being pioneered in the States.’ He looked questioningly at her. ‘Do you get what I’m saying?’
‘I’m not stupid,’ babbled Kitty.
‘That might be a yes,’ said Friday Mum doubtfully. ‘Then again, it might be a no. It’s hard to tell sometimes.’
‘Let’s give it a whirl, shall we?’ said the doctor.
The cap was itchy. And it felt odd without the helmet. The doctors had said she would be ‘all right’ for a short time without it, but what if her brain fell out? Kitty twisted her head one way and then another to shake the cap off so they could put the helmet back on. ‘Please try and keep still,’ said the doctor tightly. ‘Could someone stop her pulling those wires out? It’s a very
expensive piece of equipment.’
‘I’m not a “her”. I’m a “me”,’ spat Kitty.
‘Don’t get cross, darling.’ Friday Mum was beginning to sound panicky. ‘A lot depends on this.’
Then the door opened. ‘So sorry I’m late but the traffic was dreadful.’
It was Call Me Jeannie. Kitty swivelled her head round to see if Johnny was there.
No.
Part of her was pleased.
The other part was hurt.
‘Remember,’ said the doctor firmly. ‘Be nice and still now.’
Kitty felt Call Me Jeannie’s soft hand taking one of hers. Friday Mum had the other.
It was rather nice. But Kitty could see from the look on Friday Mum’s face that she wasn’t very pleased about her mother-in-law being there. The Monster lashed out a foot. Ouch!
‘Did you see that?’ whispered Call Me Jeannie.
‘Please. Quiet.’
The doctor was studying the screen intently. He had headphones on too. Kick. Kick. Wriggle. Wriggle. It seemed to go on for ages.
Eventually, the doctor took off his headphones. ‘You can remove the cap now,’ he said.
‘Any luck?’ breathed Friday Mum.
‘What do you think?’ asked Call Me Jeannie at the same time.
The doctor shook his head. ‘I’m afraid Kitty isn’t responding to this device. But there are others we can try. There are all kinds of new developments going on at the moment so we mustn’t lose hope. On the other hand, we obviously can’t make any firm promises.’
A tear rolled down Friday Mum’s cheek. Kitty reached out towards it with her good hand.
‘I’m sorry, Lilian,’ said Call Me Jeannie softly. ‘I know how much this means to you.’
There was a sob. ‘It might also have meant a lot to Alison.’
Alison, Alison, thought Kitty crossly. It was always Half a Sister that Friday Mum worried about. What about her? Yet, at the same time, Kitty couldn’t help feeling that somehow – goodness knows why – she’d let down the girl with the blonde hair who always seemed so kind to her.
‘What am I going to do?’ Friday Mum was really weeping now. ‘I’m going to lose both girls, aren’t I?’
Lose both girls. What did she mean?
‘You’re probably wondering where Johnny is,’ said Call Me Jeannie as they wheeled her back to the van. ‘He’s gone away for the week. The day centre has organized a residential camp on Dartmoor.’
Bet that girl was there too! Kitty felt her limbs flail out in anger. ‘Ouch, dear. Don’t do that. You’ll hurt us. Kitty, I said, don’t.’
But she couldn’t stop. Besides, The Monster was urging her on. She didn’t particularly want Johnny any more. But that didn’t mean that someone else could have him.
By the time she got home, Kitty was hysterical. ‘What’s going on here?’ said Bossy Supervisor sharply.
Friday Mum whispered something to her.
‘I see.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. It can’t be easy for her.’
It was the first time Kitty had seen her look so understanding. ‘Let’s give you something to calm you down, shall we?’
‘No. Get off me.’
But she was coming closer. For a minute, Kitty had a vision of someone else coming closer to her. A long time ago. Someone who was angry. Very angry.
Then Bossy Supervisor reached for that bloody needle and Kitty felt the blackness coming over her again.
One more time.
I can remember this much. And I’m certain – don’t ask me how – that there’s something else here that might bring back the full story. The real truth.
Shoulder bags bobbing.
Blonde plaits flapping.
Two pairs of feet.
Three.
‘Come on. We’re going to be late.’
Summer sun. Blinding eyes.
Green chestnut leaves spread out above.
Blue blazers. Violin case knocking knees.
School sign.
French essay.
CHILDREN SLOW.
Nearly there. Almost safe.
Almost, almost …
Then what?
60
September 2017
Alison
Good luck. Will be thinking of you.
Of all the people in the world, Clive is the one I need right now. He will know the right things to say. He will calm me down just by holding me tight. But his business trip has been extended. And now I must do this on my own.
Even so, I hold his text in my head for comfort as I hang on to Robin’s arm. The crowds outside the court are scaring me. So too are the photographers.
‘Alison,’ calls out a journalist. ‘Are you really guilty of hurting your sister and killing her friend? Did you allow Crispin to take the blame for his mother’s death too?’
‘Why is there so much interest?’ I gasp as we finally get inside.
Robin’s face is tight. ‘Good PR on the other side, if you ask me. It’s a so-called human-interest story. We just have to make sure that your side comes across too.’
As he speaks, we find ourselves face-to-face with Kitty and Mum. My heart lurches at the sight of my pregnant sister. Kitty is laughing and dribbling as if this is all some kind of huge joke.
Mum, on the other hand, is giving me a look I can’t quite read. I think it says that she wants to believe me, but that she’s not quite sure. A flutter of unease passes through me.
The barrister comes up to us. She is very tall and handsome, rather than beautiful, with golden hair. About twenty years older than me, at a guess. Robin addresses her as Lily. She is, he says, ‘just the woman for the job’. I can only hope he is right. Apparently, she took time off to concentrate on her son, who has special needs, but now she is back. What if she isn’t up to this? There hasn’t been much time for us to get to know each other because the case came up much faster than any of us anticipated. ‘They’re trying to clear a backlog,’ Robin said. Is this good or bad?
‘Time to go in, Alison,’ she says to me. She smiles as if trying to put me at my ease, but this makes me feel even more nervous. ‘Just tell the truth like you did during the bail application. The jury can usually tell if you don’t.’
I feel sick. My mouth is dry. The only saving grace is that the new machine has not helped Kitty. Or rather, Kitty was not suitable for that particular type of technology. So, the one person who could say exactly what happened – apart from me – is unable to speak.
The courtroom is huge, with high ceilings that make voices reverberate dramatically as if on stage. There is a great deal of oak panelling, reminding me of a large dining room in a stately home which Mum, David, Kitty and I had visited once on a day out. But that’s where the similarity ends. I have to stand high up in a box surrounded by a glass screen.
In front of me is the judge – a woman. The jury has been sworn in. Are they friendly? Hard to tell. Several keep glancing up at me and then at Kitty. I’m still not sure if it’s wise to have her here but my barrister apparently thought it was important. She wants to stress the sisterly ties which my mother has told her about. ‘Alison loved Kitty,’ she kept saying during the preliminary meeting. ‘She’d have done anything for her.’
How simple it is to rewrite history to fit in with an idealized image. Mum still doesn’t know about my confession to Robin. What will she say when she hears it from my own lips? Lily, of course, knows, but she still thinks Kitty should be here so that the jury can see what Crispin did to her. ‘Your actions might have contributed to the accident,’ she told me. ‘But it’s still not right that you should shoulder the whole responsibility.’
Will a jury agree with her?
Now it’s time to find out. The case has been outlined. I am accused of the manslaughter of Vanessa and of Crispin’s mother and of causing grievous bodily harm to my sister.
The prosecution is calling the first witness. One James Bowles.
I already knew from Robin and L
ily that there had been an important later ‘addition to the prosecution’s case’, but by that time I was incapable of taking any more in. I refused – despite their entreaties – to sit through any more witness statements. Besides, the name had meant nothing to me. Kitty, seated down below with Mum, starts to roar with laughter as if she’s watching one of her programmes on television.
A tall, slightly stocky man with a chiselled jaw walks across the room and takes his place at the witness stand. He does not look at me. But my eyes are fixed on him.
Unable to believe what they are seeing.
It is Lead Man.
I am so shocked that I can barely take in what he is saying. The betrayal is such that I feel as if I have been stabbed in the stomach. I have to grip the rail in front of me. For a minute, I fear I might wet myself like my sister. My breath is coming out in short, sharp gasps. The officer next to me notices and gestures at the water in front of me. I want a sip but I cannot move my arm to take it. I can only sit, stunned, and try to concentrate.
James Bowles? Who is this man? And what about all the other lies he has told me? Not to mention the things I told him on the last day I saw him.
I want to run. Scream. Shout.
‘Can you describe to the court how you met the accused?’
‘I tracked her down at a local authority art class.’ He speaks clearly. His face ahead. Still not looking at me.
‘Tracked her down?’ repeats the barrister. ‘Why is that?’
‘I was hired as a private investigator by Crispin Wright.’
There is a loud gasp. From my own mouth. The jury, to a man and woman, turn to face me. Suspicion is written over each of their faces.
‘At first, I just followed her.’
So that explained the feeling I’d kept having that someone was trailing me near my flat.
‘But then my client decided he wanted to confront her. He’d been told that he was going to be transferred to HMP Archville in the new year because of good behaviour since the last episode and because he claimed the location would make it easier for a distant cousin to visit. Prison staff are meant to be aware of family issues and in this case it worked in our favour because it was near Alison too.’
