Page 54 of Insomnia

I grip the banister and start to climb, forcing one foot in front of the other. A flash of cold lightning makes me jump, but the upstairs hallway is empty. There are noises though, strange sounds I don’t quite understand, coming from where my and Phoebe’s bedroom is.I stare into the gloom, gripping the top banister, stuck, not knowing what to do.

“Mummy?” I say, so quietly it’s barely more than my lips moving. No one answers. I gulp air into my dry mouth and start walking forward. I hear a gasp. Exertion. Something muffled. My heart beats faster until by the time I’m pushing the door open I feel like I’m going to explode. Not just my heart. All of me. And then my breath is gone. The implosion is internal not external as I stare, air whomping out of my open mouth and my ears humming like I’m underwater.

Mummy, beside the bed, is leaning over Phoebe, her hair hanging over her face, as she holds the pillow down, smothering my big sister. She grunts with the effort, because Phoebe is struggling hard. I can hear muffled panic coming from under the pillow, but all I can see are Phoebe’s legs thrumming against the mattress as she arches and then they’re up and wheeling as if she’s trying to kick something away. Phoebe.

I take a step forward. The old boards creak. Mummy’s head spins around, her eyes startled and wide.

“Emma,” she says, surprised. She straightens up. And then suddenly, with no warning, she spins fast to one side and then crumples, as if dead, onto the thin carpet. And then all I can hear is Phoebe wheezing and sobbing, and then she’s grabbing me and stumbling and pulling me away from the too still raggedy mess of our mother and out into the rain.

My fingers are tight on the banister and as I push the memory back into its box, I force myself toward my bedroom. It’s nearly three. I’m wrung out, but I’ll get a couple of hours sleep if I try hard enough. As I pass Caroline’s door, I notice it’s ajar. I get the sudden urge to check on her, to see that she’s in bed, sleeping, the world in order, so I quietly push it open. She’s on her stomach, one armunder her head, fast asleep and totally relaxed. Every muscle in my body is tense but I feel better for watching her. I breathe in and out. I do feel better. Maybe I’ll stay for a while.

The next thing I know I’m back in the spare room—my room—and my feet are cold, and my lower back aches, but my chest is warm. I’m hugging a pillow, hunched over and standing beside the empty bed. My hair hangs over my face and I’m staring at the mattress in gray dawn light.Oh god.

I’m hugging a pillow.

I yelp and drop the pillow, afraid, as reality sinks in around me. What am I doing? How did I get here? I glance back at the door. It’s closed. I closed it behind me, I must have. The last thing I remember I was standing in Caroline’s doorway watching her. A terrible fear grips me. Oh god. I couldn’t have. Wouldn’t have. My head is still filled with Phoebe’s kicking legs and I’m about to run to Caroline’s room when I hear a deep rumbling snore through the wall. I collapse onto the edge of the bed, breathless, a rush of relief.

After a moment I curl up in the bed and grip the edge of pillow, now under my head. What was I so afraid of? I feel sick. I know the answer to that. I was scared that I’d hurt her.No, not hurt her, suffocated her.That I’d done what my mother did to Phoebe. My head starts to throb. Did I really think I could have suffocated her?

Could I have suffocated her?

44.

ONE DAY UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY

I didn’t sleep at all, but lay in bed, terrified for me andofme, as dawn ticked into morning, and then I got up and started to make a proper breakfast for Caroline of eggs, bacon, and tomato on toast. She’s a bit taken aback when she comes downstairs to the smell of it all and me washing up, but I usher her to the table, where her full plate is waiting.

“You didn’t have to.”

I hand her a knife and fork. “Least I can do, and you’ve got to go to work.” It’s a half-truth. I’m not sure howI was scared in the night that I’d accidentally suffocated you while I wasn’t myself and a breakfast was one way of appeasing my guiltwould go down.

“Why don’t you go and speak to your sister this morning?” she says. “She works in a pub, right?”

“Yes, the Hand and Racquet.” I imagine Phoebe’s face if I turn up at her work. We’d be throwing pints at each other in seconds and then the police would come and I’d be in trouble all over again.

“Then go and talk it out. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding.”

“You’re right.” I’m embarrassed for ranting at Caroline last night. I must have seemed so hyper, I’m surprised she didn’t ask me to leave. “Maybe I will.”

My phone beeps—an email from Debbie Webster at Hartwell. Their systems are obviously up and running again. She says my mother did have another visitor and did I want her to pass on my number to them if they want to get in touch. I fire back a quick, “yes please,” curious but mainly disappointed that the message wasn’t from Darcy. God, why doesn’t he just—

The email has barely whooshed into the ether when my phone rings and his name is there on the screen and my heart is suddenly in my mouth.

“Good news,” he says before I’ve barely got a “hello” out. “You’re in the clear. The police just called. You’re on camera leaving the hospital and you don’t return through any of the other entrances. If there was any foul play, it wasn’t you.”

I’m flushing with relief, up on my feet and pacing, half laughing, half crying. I didn’t do it. And whatever happened last night I didn’t do anything then either. Holding a pillow is just holding a pillow. It doesn’t mean anything. Does it?

“Thank you, Darcy. Thank you so much.”

“I’ve got to go. But if you need me for anything else, just drop me a text. And let’s grab that beer sometime, yes?”

“Yes. Yes, definitely.”

“Good.” He pauses. “It was good to see you again, Baby Spice.” And then he’s gone and I’m grinning at Caroline. “I’m in the clear.”

“There you go.”

She looks extremely relieved, and I guess I don’t blame her.

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