a man dived out of shot against a backdrop of flames. That was the hero. The baddie was in the fire, finally got his comeuppance. Revenge equals a world put to rights, according to Hollywood, and then they lecture us on raising our kids not to be violent.’
‘Mrs Edwards…’
‘Sorry, yes, so I put our coffee cups on the table, on top of my Prima magazine so they wouldn’t stain, and I said, “Coffee,” and he might have grunted but he didn’t look up.’
I make myself meet her eyes. Take a dive into that blue. She’s hanging on my every word, as if what I have to say is important. She’s looking at me, really looking at me. She reaches forward, tops up my glass of water and hands it to me. There is such kindness in the gesture that my own eyes fill.
I take a sip, wait for my breathing to slow down a bit.
‘I think that’s when it hit me,’ I tell her after a moment or two, my voice so quiet I can barely hear it. ‘That’s what I’m trying to explain. All this, the terrible things I’ve done, why I’m here, started there. You see, I’d been worried about disturbing my daughter and her friends. I’d listened at the door like I do outside Katie’s room sometimes, chin pressed to an armful of laundry… I’d crept into the kitchen. That’s where I’d got to in life. Creeping about in my own house, cringing at my own footsteps like a maid from Downton Abbey or something. It was my house and there I was, scared of disturbing them.
‘But the thing is, the thing I need you to understand, is that I didn’t disturb them. The kids, I mean. They weren’t rude to me. They didn’t stop and stare. They didn’t stop at all. They didn’t ignore me either, because they’d have had to make a conscious effort of will to do that, wouldn’t they? I hadn’t spoiled their fun or made them self-conscious, no. The music carried on playing and they carried on kissing and fighting and gossiping and flirting and smoking and drinking and posing and preening the way of kids everywhere. They hadn’t been embarrassed or inhibited by my presence. Not at all.
‘The truth was, I’d had no effect on them whatsoever. They hadn’t noticed me come in or go out. I had no presence. They hadn’t seen me. And when I got back with the coffees, Mark didn’t nod or say thanks or take any notice of me. He hadn’t seen me either.
‘I was invisible. I no longer existed. Like I’d vanished from my own life.’
2
Rachel
It’s all been a bit overwhelming. I expected to still have the handcuffs on but they took them off at some point, before they brought me here. Actually, I’m wearing fresh clothes. They’re mine but I can’t think when I… Hang on, no, I think I slept here. I did, of course I did. Did I bring an overnight bag, or what? No, of course not. They led me out of the house in handcuffs. Not like I could have said, hang on a minute while I grab my toothbrush, is it? They must have brought me these clothes at some point, brought me here. My jeans are too big for me now; they fall down when I walk. But that’s not important. She seems happy to let me waffle on. I know she’s thinking she’ll get more out of me if she lets me take the road less travelled. It might take longer but there’ll be less traffic, less risk of a standstill. We’ll always be moving forward.
Blue Eyes coughs into her hand. ‘Mrs Edwards—’
‘Rachel. Call me Rachel. Can’t be doing with Mrs, and to be honest, Edwards is Mark’s name, isn’t it? I was Ryder originally. Rachel Clarissa Ryder. Think my mother had delusions of grandeur, bless her.’
‘All right. Rachel.’ She smooths her hand across my notes, as if to flatten them, and presses her lips together. Same shade of lippy as yesterday – must be her favourite. ‘You realised you were invisible. That came as a big shock, which is understandable. Then what happened?’
‘Blood everywhere, that’s what happened.’
‘Blood?’ The eyes widen, sparkle like crystals.
‘First nosebleed in thirty years or more. Used to get them when I was a teenager in moments of stress. I can remember apologising to Mark as I dashed in front of the telly on my way out. Needn’t have worried, when you think