Page 38 of Insomnia

It’s my turn to laugh. “Yes, of course he is. I’m sure Julian has your absolute best interests at heart and I’m sure he’s going to turn his back on his big house and his lovely family just to shack up with some selfish seventeen-year-old who’s too stupid to see him for what he really is.” I turn the corner and feel the car pull from my speed. “He’s going to fuck you till he’s bored and then he’ll forget all about you.”

“I hate you,” she says, quiet and cold, staring down at her hands. My heart is racing. I’m the bad guy again. Never Robert. Always me.

“I love you, Chloe. But end it now and I won’t tell your dad. No one has to know.”

“I hate you.” She says it louder this time, and as I glance across, for a moment I can see her as she was at two, simmering, all contained rage as a tantrum approached, brow furrowed so tight that her eyes were hooded, jaw clenched, and mouth pursed.

“No you don’t. You just think you do.” I’m even using the tone I used with her then, but she’s not a toddler anymore, she’s a near adult, and suddenly she’s lashing out at me.

“Yes I do. I really hate you.” She snarls it louder and then twists away, grabbing at the door handle. What’s she trying to do, jump out of the bloody car to get away from me?

“Chloe, for god’s sake!” I reach out and grab at her, frantically pulling her back.

“Let go of me!” She pulls herself free, shoving me away, then we’re pushing at each other as I try to keep my eyes on the road. “What’s wrong with you?” She lashes out again, hands whipping at me, the car swerving under us. I push her hard, protecting myself, and she bangs her head on the passenger-seat window.

“Chloe, calm down!”

There’s nothing ahead but bends in the country road. I look behind and the driver has pulled back, no doubt concerned by my erratic driving.

“Mum, look out!”

The loud blare of a horn fills the car, and as my heart almost stops, I realize I’ve veered into the other narrow lane. Seeing the truck bearing down on us, I pull the wheel hard to the left, my whole body in a panic. Chloe cringes back into her seat, her head turned away, eyes closed, arms up to protect herself, and only then do I see the vape that she must have been reaching for, not the door at all, and my feet feel like they’re slamming on all the pedals as the car spins and all I see is the tree coming at us so fast, and then I’m closing my eyes too.

30.

We are lucky all things considered. My new car is, however, a write off. The front on the driver’s side buckled on impact and the chassis is rippled like corrugated iron underneath. At least, at the last second, I’d managed to turn the wheel so the crash was more on my side than Chloe’s. She has a split lip and a nosebleed from her airbag, but other than that is thankfully only shaken. My airbag didn’t deploy and my right arm and shoulder are jarred, my knee is bruised, and I can already feel whiplash kicking in by the time the police and ambulance arrive, but my overwhelming emotion is relief that Chloe is okay.

In the quiet aftermath, my whole body shaking, I’d been afraid to look across at her. When I finally did, the shock of seeing so much blood on her face and down her top had me shrieking and fussing at her to find where the injury was, and in the end, she had to shout at me to stop, lifting up her T-shirt to show me her unharmed midriff and to point out the blood was all from her lip and nose. Even then it took a few seconds before I calmed down. All this nightly fear that something was going to hurt my children, and then I nearly kill my precious girl.

“What were you doing, Mum?” She’d been close to tears as she stared at me. “Why did you attack me?”

“I didn’t, I didn’t,” I’d said. “I thought you were trying to get out of the car. Reaching for the door. That’s all.”

The fright of the crash doesn’t ease the tension between us; if anything it makes it worse, and she’s still distant, wary, like a wounded animal, when the police and an ambulance turn up a few minutes later. We don’t tell them we were fighting; instead I say I was distracted by an animal running across the road and then lost control. It’s more than an hour later that the police car drives us home and by then the adrenaline has worn off and I’m so tired I could throw up and my whole body feels broken.

“It can’t go on, Chloe,” I say quietly to her. “You know it can’t.”

She doesn’t answer but looks out the window, chewing on her thumb. I look out mine and see my wan reflection staring back at me, my bloodshot eyes and messed up hair. I’ve lost weight and my skin is dry and uneven. No wonder my family thinks I’m losing it.

“What the hell happened?”

Chloe and I are in the hallway looking like the last survivors from some horror film after the policeman who drove us home leaves. Robert’s face is aghast. “Are you hurt?” He comes forward to hug Chloe, but she puts her hands up to stop him.

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll put that top in to soak,” I say to her quietly as she heads to the stairs. She doesn’t look back.

“Mum lost her shit, that’s what the hell happened,” she calls over her shoulder.

“That’s not fair and you know it,” I snap back. It’s also not true.

Robert looks at me. “What’s she talking about?”

“You know how you drove into a tree once?” He stares at me nonplussed, so I spell it out for him. “Well, now I have too.”

“Fuck’s sake, Emma. How?”

“The same way you did. Accidents happen. I need a shower before my neck totally seizes up.” He hasn’t even asked if I’m okay. “I’ll call the insurance people after.”

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