"What do you mean?"
She turned her head towards me.
"Oh, I don't mean literally," she said. "But we lost her. She turned into somebody else, somebody quite different." She fell silent for a moment. "We lost her," she repeated, quietly.
"What was wrong with her?"
"I believe the diagnosis was schizophrenia."
I looked down. The word reverberated in the quiet room.
"What happened?"
Aunt Effie shifted a little under the covers.
"She was having treatment," she said. "In the hospital. It seemed to be working. She was very - very distressed to be parted from you." I could feel my eyes begin to fill again and blinked hastily. Aunt Effie went on. "Your father brought her home for the day so she could spend some time with you. He only left her for a moment. When he came back to the terrace, she'd taken you and the car."
"Taken me?"
Her voice cracked a little. "You were only a baby. You were in your pram on the terrace, Mrs. Green had gone indoors for something. When we checked, you were gone."
I could feel dread creeping upwards through me, like a rising tide of ice water. I tried once to ask the question but my voice failed. I felt faint and the room shimmered. I tried again. "The car crash - the crash - it wasn't an accident, was it?"
Aunt Effie was silent.
"Was it?" I barely recognised my own voice.
"No," she said, eventually.
I heard myself sob. It shocked me. "She meant to do it?"
Aunt Effie reached out a hand to me but I ignored her. "Oh, my dear," she said. There were tears in her eyes. "She was ill. She didn't know what she was doing."
I stood up abruptly. I had to get out of this room; it was suffocatingly hot. I had my hand up to my scar.
I heard Aunt Effie say my name but, by that time, I was already through the door.
I drove to Caernaven. I didn’t allow myself to think on the way. I just stared at the road ahead and looked past the windscreen wipers that moved endlessly back and forth. It was raining steadily and the mountains were shrouded in mist. I parked the car outside the front door, gravel spraying up as I braked a little too hard. Mrs. Green opened the door before I could use my key.
“Maudie,” she said, sounding surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you for a couple of hours.”
“Sorry,” I said. I felt as though I were speaking through clenched teeth, although of course I wasn’t. My voice felt strangled. “I got here quicker than expected. Do you mind if I get myself a drink?”
She looked even more surprised. “No, of course – I’ll just put the kettle on.”
“A proper drink.” I was past caring what she thought.
In the kitchen, she poured me a modest glass of wine from a newly opened bottle. I had to restrain myself from grabbing it from her.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” I said. For a second, I thought of asking her about my mother and then thought better of it. I didn’t want to hear anything more about it.
“I’m just going up to my room,” I said. I took the bottle with me, not caring what she thought.
Up in my room, I sat against the radiator, shivering. I drank my wine in gulps, choking over it. My head felt as if it had been recently released from a vice.
So, no accident then. No accident. Was it suicide? Or was she just too mad to remember she was driving? I thought of my own brush with death, face down on a vomit-soaked carpet, and groaned aloud. My own mother had tried to kill me. Why? Because she knew she was going to kill herself and couldn’t bear to leave me behind? Had she wanted to prevent me suffering the same affliction in the future, snuffing me out before I had a chance to follow in her footsteps? Well, what a failure she’d made of that. In the depths of her mental torment, had she forgotten about me, strapped into the baby seat? Had I screamed as the wall rushed towards us? I thought of what her injuries must have been, and flinched. Had Angus identified her? What must he have thought as he contemplated what was left, the crumpled, ragged, ripped-apart body, the parts of it they’d managed to salvage from the wrecked car?
The pressure in my head screwed itself tighter. I could hear myself sobbing on every outward breath. Angus. All these years he’d lied to me. So many secrets in one family. How many more were there, waiting out there, waiting to spring?
I managed to get to my feet. Oblivion had never seemed so necessary. I ransacked my bathroom, looking for something, anything that would put me out for the night. I found three sleeping tablets, Temazepam, rolling around in one of the drawers. God knows how long they’d been there. As I washed them down with wine, I found myself wondering how dangerous a move this was. Perhaps they would kill me. Good, was the only answer my mind came up with, and I lay on the bed and waited for sleep, or some other kind of black curtain. Whichever came first.
Chapter Twenty Five
“You look like death,” were Matt’s first words to me as I walked through the door of the flat.
“Thanks a bunch.” I handed him one of my bags. “Nice to see you too.”
“Sorry.” He dropped the bag on the floor, drew me against him and kissed me. “That was a bit rude. You don’t look like death, but you look very tired. Better?”
I leant against his broad chest, closing my eyes.
“How was it up there?”
I didn’t want to talk about it. I wanted to forget what I’d heard, push it back down into the shadows.
“I’ll tell you later,” I said. “I’m too tired right now.”
I flopped onto the sofa, groaning softly. Matt handed me a little pile of envelopes.
“Your post,” he said. “Want a drink?”
I nodded. On the top envelope, my name and address were written in a hand I didn’t recognise. I tore the envelope open and scanned the single page within.
Matt was clinking about in the drinks cupboard. As I stared at the page, I became aware he’d asked me a question.
“What?”
“I said, vodka tonic do you?”
“Yes, fine.” I carefully folded the paper up and put it back in the envelope. “Matt, I have to go out tomorrow. I’ll probably be out most of the day.”
“Oh darling, you’ve only just got back. I haven’t seen you for days.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” I couldn’t face a row. “It’s stuff to do with the estate. I have to deal with it.”
Matt handed me my glass. “If you must, you must. But I’ll have forgotten what you look like soon. We must make a bit of time for us, Maudie.”
I nodded and sipped my drink, only half listening. All I could think about was the note in my pocket and the meeting with Jessica in the morning that it promised.
I had never been to the London Aquarium before. As I made my way slowly through the dimly lit rooms, bathed in a bluish glow, I thought to myself that I must come here more often. It had a peaceful sense to it, despite the hordes of school children that thronged the corridors and pressed their faces up against the glass. I drifted from one underwater scene to another, moving slowly through the dappled light and feeling calmer than I had in weeks. The three fingers of vodka I’d consumed before I left the house helped too. Drinking in the morning was supposed to be a bad sign but the way I was feeling, it was a lifesaver.
Eventually I came to our meeting place. I found a seat on one of the plastic benches opposite the shark tank and rested there, watching the sharks move their perpetual circles, spiralling up to the top of the tank, and then moving back down to my eye level. There was something hypnotic in their endless circling.