used to be horrible about Zannah’s name.’
‘What?’ Rage rears up inside me. It always does when someone criticises Zan or Ben, even if the criticism is perfectly valid.
‘Not about her,’ says Flora quickly. ‘Only the name. Lewis always liked her. He used to say in an admiring way, “That child has a steely edge.”’
I don’t want to hear anything Lewis has said about my children, but I’m afraid to say so in case it discourages her from talking about other things.
‘He thought we should call her Suzannah at all times, I suppose?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where did he stand on Ben?’
‘Benjamin.’
I turn and lean against the balcony rail so that I’m facing the room. The view that should lift my heart is starting to irritate me: the open sun umbrellas like spiky blue and white wheels, the rectangular, six-pillared building at the far end of the pool that makes me think of an Indian shrine.
‘Rom-com Dom was fine, though,’ I say, trying to work out how to move the conversation back to HMP Peterborough in a way that doesn’t feel forced.
‘That was a joke,’ says Flora. ‘Chimpy wouldn’t be very funny as a nickname. More of an insult. I would never compare my own child to a chimpanzee. Why did you think I would? Because of the strabismus?’
‘The what?’ I picture a polished violin made of dark wood.
‘Lewis said you spoke to my parents. Did they tell you?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s a strabismus?’ Is it a car?
‘Weakness of the eye muscles,’ says Flora. ‘Georgina would have needed an operation. Well, she might have. There were other options. A patch might have cured it.’
Yes. Flora’s parents did tell me. One of them said something about Georgina maybe needing an operation. I can’t remember if they mentioned her eye, but Lewis did. He told me this morning that Georgina would have needed eye surgery, if she’d lived.
‘So … it’s like a lazy eye?’ I ask Flora. A girl at my primary school had one. She wore a patch for months. She still looked a little cross-eyed afterwards, but nowhere near as much.
‘That’s amblyopia,’ Flora says. ‘They’re connected, but they’re not exactly the same thing. Why are we talking about this, Beth? Georgina’s dead.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I … Why would you think there might be a link between the name Chimpy and Georgina’s eye condition?’
‘There’s no connection in my mind. I thought you might think it. To think that Chimpy might be a nickname for a beautiful girl …’ Her voice shakes. ‘A girl who looks like a chimp would be ugly, and Georgina was beautiful. She was beautiful. Her eye made no difference. It didn’t make her ugly.’
‘Flora, I never said it did. I would never say or think that. I now know that Chimpy is nobody’s nickname, so it’s irrelevant, but I don’t think it implies ugliness at all. Dom and I used to call Zan and Ben little chimps and it was nothing but affectionate. We certainly didn’t think they were—’
The words fall away as my brain races ahead. No, we didn’t. We didn’t think our children were ugly, and Flora didn’t think Georgina was ugly because of her eye problem.
Someone did, though. ‘Lewis thought Georgina was ugly,’ I say. ‘Because of her eye.’
The other four all have his eyes. Georgina might have had too, except her eyes were flawed. And Lewis can’t handle flaws. He never could.
‘Flora, did … did Lewis …’ I can’t bring myself to ask. If the answer is yes, how does it fit with what’s happening at Newnham House now, with Kevin and Yanina and little Thomas and Emily having the same names as their older brother and sister?
‘Can you come over now?’ Flora says, making my heart jolt. This is how she used to sound, at university and when we all lived in Cambridge. It’s what we’d both say when we rang each other, if there was something new and entertaining to gossip about. ‘Lewis isn’t here. I’m in the house he put me in, on my own. He won’t be coming back today. It’ll be safe.’
‘Yes, of course. Tell me where and I’ll get there as soon as I can.’
There’s silence.
‘Flora?’
‘We’ll have to be quick,’ she says. ‘I don’t think he’ll come back today, but there’s a chance he might in the evening.’
‘That gives us plenty of time.’ Plenty of time to get her out of there.
There’s a taut silence. I can’t even hear her breathing. If this chance slips away, I’m