Abby
Abby
Abby says goodbye to the family liaison officer, closes the door behind her. Walking back into the sitting room, Clio is seated on the sofa still reeling from the story Abby has told her about Jack killing Isla, and Nicole covering it up.
‘I just can’t believe it. Jack’s so... nice. I don’t get why he’d do that?’
Abby inhales deeply, knows that the time for secrets is over. Her voice is steadier than she anticipated as she narrates to Clio a story that still sounds incredible to her own ears: Isla’s relationship with Andrew, the pregnancy, the abortion. The lies, the duplicity, the betrayals of trust. Their two families – intertwined for so long – now irrevocably ruptured.
Clio is silent for what seems an inordinately long time. Abby is not sure whether to interrupt – to ask what she is thinking – or let the revelations sink in. She bides her time, does not want to pressurise Clio into a response, knows how much there is to absorb. ‘Are you okay?’
Clio nods. ‘I just can’t get my head around it. It’s so... un-Isla . I can’t imagine her doing something like that.’
Abby does not know what to say, wishes she had a response to explain what she, also, is unable to understand. ‘I can’t either. But we just have to keep hold of the Isla we knew and loved. None of this changes that. She’s still the same person, even if she did have secrets from us.’
Clio says nothing for a few seconds, picks at the skin around the edge of her nails. ‘I just can’t picture it. Isla with Andrew? It’s so... weird. He’s like... an uncle, or something. I don’t understand how it even happened.’
Abby allows herself a beat. It is a question to which she does not have an answer. A question to which she will never have an answer because she cannot ask Isla directly. ‘I honestly don’t know. I’m not sure we ever will. All I know is that what Andrew did is sickening in every way imaginable.’ She tries to keep her voice steady but her disgust at what he has done cannot be swallowed, cannot be silenced.
For a few moments, neither of them says anything. Clio pulls the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands as if wanting to hide herself from view. ‘Can I say something without you getting angry with me?’
Abby nods, wonders whether Clio is going to tell her about the doctored photos or about spying on her sister, or about what she has really been doing all those Friday nights she says she is sleeping at Freya’s.
Clio breathes in slowly, self-consciously. ‘Sometimes I think you’d be happier if I’d been killed instead of Isla.’
The shock momentarily destabilises Abby. ‘Don’t say that, of course I wouldn’t. What makes you think that?’
‘Because she was the perfect one. She was the one everyone loved. She was amazing at everything—’
‘And so are you. You can’t compare yourself to Isla. You’re completely different people. You’re both special in your own way.’
Clio shakes her head. ‘I’m not. I know I’m not.’ She tugs at her sleeves. ‘I know Isla was your favourite.’
Abby wrestles Clio’s hands from inside her jumper, squeezes them tightly. ‘That’s just not true—’
‘It is. Isla was everyone’s favourite.’
Guilt tightens around Abby’s throat. ‘Parents don’t have favourites. That’s not how it works.’ She pauses, wonders how honest to be with Clio, decides that secrets have brought nothing but trouble to their family so far. ‘When I got pregnant with you, I remember worrying whether I’d be able to love another child as much as I loved Isla. I told your dad, and he said I was being silly, that millions of people have more than one child and find enough love for them. But I did worry about it. And then you were born, and there was such a rush of love for you. I hadn’t understood it before, but every child opens up a new reservoir of affection inside you that you hadn’t known existed.’ She brings Clio’s hand to her lips, kisses it. Clio – unusually – does not resist. ‘I absolutely promise you that I’ve always loved you and Isla equally. My relationship with each of you is different, but I’ve always loved you the same.’
She is overcome by a profound wish that she could turn back time to the months after Stuart’s death, to see them again through Clio’s eyes. Wishes she had not been so mired in her own grief, that she had been able to put herself in the shoes of a ten-year-old girl and understood just how bewildering the world had become. ‘I’m sorry I’ve made you question how much I love you. I’m sorry you’ve ever doubted that for a second. And I’m sorry you’ve not been able to tell me you feel like this until now.’
Holding Clio tight, Abby rocks her back and forth, lets her daughter cry.
‘I miss her, Mum. I miss her so much.’
‘I know you do, sweetheart. I miss her too.’
‘But I was horrible to her. I was jealous of her and I was horrible—’
‘You weren’t—’
‘I was. And now I wish I could have her back, just for one day, and tell her I was sorry. She thought I hated her and now I can never tell her...’ Clio’s voice tapers off.
‘She knew. She understood how difficult things had been for you since Dad died. You’ve had so much to contend with over the past few years.’
Clio blows her nose, takes a deep breath. ‘I think I could have stopped it happening.’
‘What?’
‘The accident. I could have stopped it.’ Clio hesitates for a moment, wipes her nose. ‘I saw her, the night she died.’ She pauses again. ‘Literally, just before she died.’
Abby thinks of the grainy photographs on Clio’s phone, understands this is not the time to confess what she already knows. She appreciates the importance of Clio telling this story for herself. ‘Where?’
Clio’s eyes flit towards Abby and then down at the floor. ‘I sometimes, sort of, just... kind of spied on her a bit.’ She stops abruptly, and Abby strokes the back of her hand, encourages her to continue. ‘I used to watch her sometimes, when she didn’t know. At school, mostly. I know it’s weird. I honestly don’t know why I did it—’
‘It’s not weird—’
‘It is.’ Clio sucks in a deep breath. ‘I saw her having a row with Callum, the night she died. I even took photos of them.’
Abby forces herself to pause. ‘It’s okay. Just tell me what happened.’
Clio bites her bottom lip. ‘Isla and Callum were arguing – I don’t know what about, I couldn’t hear. And then Isla slapped Callum, and he stormed off.’
‘And then what happened?’
She shakes her head. ‘Nothing.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I left. Isla was just standing around looking at her phone. The drama was over. I thought there was nothing more to see. So I went to Freya’s and then I came home.’ A furrow of grief lines Clio’s forehead. ‘I can’t stop thinking about it. What if I’d stayed? What if I’d hung around for a bit longer? Maybe I could have done something. Maybe I could have stopped Isla being killed.’ She sniffs, wipes her sleeve across her eyes.
Abby places the palm of her hand against her daughter’s cheek. ‘There was nothing you could have done. You couldn’t have stopped Jack stealing Nicole’s car. You couldn’t have stopped him going to find Isla. You certainly couldn’t have stopped him running her over—’
‘But if I was there then maybe I could, and Isla would still be here.’
‘Clio, look at me.’ Abby thinks carefully about each word she is about to say, knows the importance of getting this right. ‘Isla’s death was not your fault. There is absolutely nothing you could have done to prevent it. You are in no way responsible.’
‘But what about—’
‘There are no buts. What happened to Isla was a tragedy. Perhaps it was a terrible accident or perhaps it was deliberate. We may never know. But there’s a whole slew of factors that led to it. And you not being there is not even close to being one of them.’ The litany of circumstances leading up to Isla’s death hurtle through Abby’s mind. It is Andrew she blames the most, even more so than Jack. If Andrew had not taken advantage of her daughter, if he had not abused his position in every conceivable way, Isla would still be here. It is Andrew who bears the brunt of Abby’s fury.
Wrapping her arms around Clio, Abby tries to confront the fact that it is just the two of them now. That their family quartet has been reduced to a duo in the space of five years. It seems inconceivable that she will not get to watch Isla become an adult, will never discover what the future held for her. All those experiences they will now never share. Collecting her A-level results. Driving her to her first day at university. Watching her graduate. Witnessing her falling in love and being there to console her when she fell out of it again. Encouraging her in whatever career she chose. Perhaps watching her get married, have children. Whatever made her happy. All the hopes and dreams she has had for her children from the moment they were born. And yet she has been robbed of them all.
She breathes into Clio’s hair, rocking her daughter gently back and forth. There is such a tumult of emotions, she cannot separate one from another: the rage from the disbelief, the grief from the despair. It had taken so much to carry on after Stuart’s death, and just as she had begun to learn to live without him, just as she had begun to accept that it was the three of them from hereon in, she must reconfigure their lives yet again.