far away from this family’s pain, which so dwarfed her own. She felt a sharp stab of homesickness. Her home was beautiful. She recalled this as if it were brand-new information. Not a mansion by any means, but a comfortable, sunshine-filled family home, even when it had been trashed by four little girls. She’d been the one to renovate it, to make it beautiful. People said she had “an eye.” When she got home she would remember to enjoy it.
“I might see if I can kick that door down,” said Tony.
“Great idea,” said Carmel. People were always kicking down doors in the movies. It seemed quite simple.
“I’ll do it,” said Ben.
“Or I’ll ram it.” Tony limbered up, rolling his shoulders.
“I’ll ram it,” said Ben.
“The door opens inward,” said Lars.
There was a pause. “Does that matter?” asked Frances.
“Think about it, Frances,” said Lars.
Tony looked deflated. “Let’s try to pick the lock then.” He put his fingertips to his forehead and breathed deeply. “I’m starting to feel a little … claustrophobic. I want to get out of here.”
So did Carmel.
47
Frances
They collected everything they could find that would work as a possible lock pick: one hairclip, one belt buckle, one bracelet. It was Frances’s bracelet and she had nothing else to contribute except ignorant enthusiasm, so she stayed out of the way and the lock-picking committee became Ben, Jessica, Napoleon, Tony, and Carmel. They seemed to be enjoying themselves destroying her bracelet and discussing exactly what was needed: “teeth to push the pins out” or some such thing.
She went instead to talk to Zoe, who sat in the corner of the room, hugging her knees.
“You okay?” Frances asked, sitting down next to her and putting a tentative hand on the curve of her back.
Zoe lifted her head and smiled. Her eyes were clear. She looked lovely. Not like someone who had spent the previous night tripping. “I’m fine. How was your … experience last night?”
Frances lowered her voice. “I don’t approve of what Masha did, outrageous etcetera, your mother is right, drugs are bad, illegal, wrong, just say no and all that … but I have to admit, I’m with Steve Jobs: it was one of the most fantastic experiences of my life. What about you?”
“There were good and bad parts,” said Zoe. “I saw Zach. We all saw Zach. You know … hallucinated him, we didn’t really see him.”
“I thought I saw him too,” said Frances without thinking.
Zoe turned her head.
“I saw a boy,” said Frances. “With you and your mum and dad.”
“You saw Zach?” Zoe’s face lit up.
“Sorry,” said Frances. “I hope you don’t think that’s disrespectful. Obviously, I never knew your brother. It was just my imagination, creating his image.”
“It’s fine,” said Zoe. “I like that you saw him. You would have liked him. He would have talked to you. He talked to anyone.” She stopped. “I don’t mean that in a bad way—”
“I know what you’re saying.” Frances smiled.
“He was interested in everyone,” said Zoe. “He was like Dad. Chatty. He would have asked you about, I don’t know, the publishing industry. He was the biggest nerd. He liked watching documentaries. Listening to these obscure podcasts. He was fascinated by the world. That’s why …” Her voice broke. “That’s why I could never believe he’d choose to give it up.”
She banged her chin against her propped-up knees. “When he died we weren’t talking. We hadn’t been talking for, like, weeks. We used to have these really big screaming arguments over … lots of things: the bathroom, the television, the charger. It all seems stupid now.”
“That’s what siblings do,” said Frances, seeing a flash of her own sister’s pursed lips.
“We had this thing where if the fight got really bad we’d stop talking to each other and it was like a competition to see who would talk first, and the person who talked first was kind of saying sorry without saying sorry, if you know what I mean, so I didn’t want to be the one to talk first.” She looked at Frances as if she were telling her something truly terrible.
“I used to have a very similar arrangement with my first ex-husband,” said Frances.
“But I could tell there was something not quite right with him,” said Zoe. “That week. I could tell. But I didn’t ask him. I didn’t say anything. I just ignored him.”
Frances kept her face neutral. There was no point saying, You mustn’t feel responsible. Of course she felt responsible. Denying her regret would be like