“She tried to kill herself?” he breathes. “Because of this?”
“Yes! Because she’s depressed. Not just unhappy-ill, Dinny. And I want to know what caused it. If you don’t tell me then you’re just helping keep her like she is-haunted. Just tell me what you did with his body! Tell me where he is!” I plead. My blood is soaring like a tidal wave, roaring in my ears.
“Erica!” Beth’s shout echoes across the hallway. Dinny and I jump, like guilty children. “Don’t!” she cries, running down the stairs to us. Her eyes are wide, face marked with fright.
“Beth, I wasn’t going to tell her-” Dinny starts to say, holding up a hand to placate her.
“What? Why not-because Beth has told you not to?” I snap at him.
“Don’t tell anybody! Ever!” Beth says. I hardly recognize her voice. I grasp at her hands, try to make her look at me, but her eyes are fixed on Dinny’s and something passes between them that I can’t bear.
“Beth! Please-Beth, look at me! Look at what trying to keep this secret has done to you! Please, Beth. It’s time to get rid of it. Whatever it is, let it go. Please. For Eddie’s sake! He needs you to be happy-”
“Don’t bring Eddie into this!” she snaps at me, her eyes awash with tears.
“Why not? It’s his life that this is affecting too, you know! He’s your responsibility. You owe it to him to be strong, Beth-”
“What would you know about it, Erica? What would you know about responsibility? You haven’t even got a permanent job! You change flats every six months! You’ve been living like a student since you left home-you’ve never even had a pet so don’t tell me about my responsibilities!” Beth shouts, and I recoil, stung.
“You’re my responsibility,” I say quietly.
“No. I’m not,” Beth replies, holding my gaze.
“Beth,” Dinny says. “I’ve been trying to talk to you since you got back here and I know you don’t want to hear what I have to say, but it’s important, and… I think Erica has a right to hear it too-”
“She was there, Dinny! If she doesn’t remember then she doesn’t need to. Now can we please leave it alone? Dinny, I… I think you should go.”
“No, he shouldn’t! Why should he go? I asked him in. In fact,” I cross to the door, stand with my back to it, “nobody’s going until I have had the truth from one or both of you. I mean it. The truth. It’s long overdue,” I say. My heart trips, hurls itself against my ribs.
“Like you could stop me,” Dinny mutters.
“Erica, stop asking!” Beth cries. “Just… stop asking!”
“Beth, maybe it would be better to just tell her. She’s not going to tell anybody. It’s just the three of us. I think… I think she has a right to know,” Dinny says, his voice soft. Beth stares at him, her face so pale.
“No,” she whispers.
“Christ! I don’t know why you even came back here!” he shouts, throwing up his arms in exasperation.
“Dinny, tell me. It’s the only way to help her,” I say firmly. Beth’s gaze flickers from me to Dinny and back again.
“No!” she hisses.
“Please. Tell me where Henry is,” I urge him.
“Stop it!” Beth commands me. She is shaking uncontrollably. Dinny grinds his teeth together, looks over his shoulder, looks back at me. His eyes are ablaze. He seems torn over something, undecided. I hold my breath and my head spins in protest.
“Fine!” he barks, grabbing my arm. “If you think this is only way to help her. But if you’re wrong, and when everything is different, don’t say I didn’t warn you!” He is suddenly angry, furious with us. His fingers bruise me; he tows me away from the door and wrenches it open.
“No! Dinny-no!” Beth shouts after us, as he pulls me outside.
“Ow-stop it! What are you doing? Where are we going?” On instinct I fight him, try to dig my heels in, but he is far stronger than me.
“You want to know what happened to Henry? I’ll show you!” Dinny spits the words out. Fear grips my insides. I am so close to finding Henry, so close that it terrifies me. Dinny terrifies me. Such strength in him, in his grip; such an implacable look on his face.
“Dinny, please…” I gasp, but he ignores me.
“Erica! No!” I hear Beth’s ragged shout chasing us but she does not follow. I look back over my shoulder, see her framed in the doorway, mouth distorted, hands grasping the jamb for support.
Dinny marches me across the lawn, out of the garden through the trees, and I think we are going to the dew pond. Suddenly I know, for absolute sure, that I do not want to go there. Dread makes my knees weak; I renew my struggle to get free.
“Come on!” he snaps, pulling me harder. He could wrench my arm clean away from my body. But we are not going to the dew pond. He is heading west now. We are going to the camp. I follow him like a reluctant shadow, weaving and stumbling behind him. My heart pummels inside me. Dinny pulls open the door of the nearest van, not bothering to knock. Harry looks up, startled; smiles when he recognizes us. Dinny propels me up the steps into the van, which smells of crisps and dog and damp clothing.
“What the hell is this?” My voice is shaking, I can’t get my breath, I am ready to shatter.
“You wanted to know where Henry was.” Dinny raises his arm, points at Harry. “There’s Henry.”
I stare. My head empties, the plug is pulled. I’m not sure how long I stare, but when I speak my throat is dry.
“What?” The word is a feeble little thing, a faint shape around the last scrap of air in my chest. The floor is tipping underneath my feet; the earth has rolled off its axis, is wheeling away with me, dizzy and helpless. Dinny lowers his arm, shuts his eyes and puts a hand over them, wearily.
“That’s Henry,” he repeats; and again I hear the words.
“But… how can it be? Henry’s dead! How can this be Henry? Not Henry. Not him.”
“He’s not dead. He didn’t die.” Dinny drops his hand and the fire has gone out of him. He watches me but I can’t move. I can’t think. Harry smiles, uncertainly. “Try not to shout. It upsets him,” Dinny says quietly. I can’t shout. I can’t anything. I can’t breathe. Pressure is building inside my head. I worry that it will explode. I put my hands to my temples, try to hold my skull together. “Come on-let’s go. Let’s go outside and talk,” Dinny murmurs, taking my arm more gently now. I snatch it away and lean toward Harry. I am so scared as I look at him. Scared enough for my knees to sag-there’s a hollow thump as they hit the floor. Scared enough for a shocking nausea to sweep through me. I am chilled to the roots of my hair, and burning all over. I push stray dreadlocks back from Harry’s face, peer into his eyes. I try to see it. Try to recognize him, but I can’t. I won’t.
“You’re wrong. You’re lying!”
“I’m neither. Come on, we can’t talk about this here.” Dinny pulls me to my feet and takes me outside again.
For the second time in twelve hours I sit in Dinny’s van, shivering, stunned, stupid. He makes coffee on the stove in a battered steel pot, the liquid spitting and smelling delicious. Sipping from the cup he gives me scalds my mouth, and I feel it revive me.
“I… I can’t believe it. I don’t understand,” I say quietly. Outside a door bangs. Popeye and Blot woof gently behind their teeth; more a greeting than a warning. Dinny has one ankle propped up on the other knee, his familiar pose. He looks both hard and nervous. He sighs.
“What don’t you understand?” He says this quietly, in the spirit of genuine enquiry.