stamped on his emotions. He couldn’t allow himself to feel sympathy for her, no matter what had been done to her. In fact, he could-n’t feel anything for her while he was questioning her. So he kept his professional mask in place.
‘You lost the baby.’
She nodded.
‘And then what?’
‘I’d had enough. I got some pills. Tried to take them…’ Her shoulders began to shake; her breathing became erratic as her words were intermingled with sobbing. ‘Heston found me. Put his fingers down my throat. Stopped me. Saved me, I suppose. Then we talked.’ She looked up, her face streaked with tears, her eyes red-rimmed. ‘And I knew I had to get away. ’Cause I mean, what’s the worst that could happen to me? Nothing. It had already happened. So I… I felt strong after that. Like, like I was reborn. I told Heston, I told him I had to get away. And he said he’d help me.’
‘Why didn’t he go with you?’
‘Because… because someone had to stay behind. Look after our father.’ She spoke the words with a simple clarity.
‘Okay,’ said Phil. ‘So you ran away. And Heston stayed.’ Sophie nodded. ‘What happened to him? When your father found out you’d gone?’
A bitter laugh. ‘He went mad. Really mad. He wanted to get at me but he couldn’t. He tried to find out where I’d gone, but Heston couldn’t tell him, ’cause he didn’t know. Didn’t stop him trying, though. Beat the shit out of him.’ She gave a childlike giggle, as if the memory was too horrific to contemplate and the only response was to laugh. ‘Nearly killed him, he did.’ She sighed. ‘But Heston recovered.’
‘And he’s still there now?’
‘Heston?’
Phil nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Sort of…’
‘What d’you mean?’
She looked over his shoulder, not answering. Phil decided to let that one go for now, continue questioning her.
‘And you came to Colchester. And you started-’
‘You know about me.’ The words clipped, snapped. ‘You know what happened to me from then on.’
‘What about your brother? What happened to him?’
She put her head back, thinking again. ‘Things changed. The village changed. Like you said, we weren’t so cut off. People from town started to move in. New houses got built. New estates. Luxury executive homes.’The words curled out of her mouth like soil-covered worms.
‘I bet your father hated that,’ said Phil.
Another bitter laugh. ‘Yeah. People talking to him, wanting to be friendly… He hated it. He hated attention. And he couldn’t find anyone to… provide for his man’s needs.’
‘So what did he do?’
‘Made Heston do it.’ The words as matter-of-fact as possible. ‘But not like he was. ’Cause he wasn’t queer, my dad.’ Another laugh. ‘Oh no. Whatever he was, he wasn’t queer.’
Phil felt a sense of dread building with each word he heard. He had a feeling he knew where this confession was going. ‘So…’ He was almost frightened to ask the next question. ‘What did he do?’
‘Dressed him up.’
Phil nodded. That was what he had been expecting. He looked at Sophie’s face, sensed there was something more. ‘What else?’
‘Did what he wanted, made him…’
‘Into you?’
Sophie’s eyes were downcast. She nodded. Phil felt a small sense of victory amongst the unease about what she was saying. That look, that movement meant there was still something in her, some basic shared humanity underneath all the damage, the madness. He had to work on that, bring it out.
‘So Heston took your place.’
Another nod. ‘But our father wasn’t happy.’
‘Because he wasn’t queer.’
She nodded again. ‘He went along with it at the time. But afterwards…’ She shivered, as if recounting it from personal experience.
‘Afterwards, what? What happened afterwards, Sophie?’
‘He hated himself,’ she said, bitterness dripping from her words. ‘He hated himself and he hated Heston. For what they were both doing. He used to beat him. Whip him again.’
Phil suppressed a shudder. ‘And Heston took all this?’
Another nod. ‘He was scared. He didn’t have any option.’ She looked round then, as if coming out of a trance, seeing the room for the first time. ‘I want a drink. I want to stop. I want a drink.’
‘Not long now, Sophie. Let’s keep going. Just a little while longer.’
No. I want a drink. I want to stop.’
Phil couldn’t stop, he had to go on. He wanted to go on. He was making a breakthrough, just about to reach her. He couldn’t stop now. She had to keep going. Had to…
He looked at her. All vestiges of her earlier self were now long gone. No sexuality, no allure. Just a damaged woman with a damaged mind. She had clammed up and wouldn’t start again until she was ready. He sighed, checked his watch. Leaned over to the tape.
‘Interview suspended at…’
72
Hester’s husband had returned. She had felt his presence but hadn’t heard his voice. She had tried talking to him but got nothing in return. So she had given up. And then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he had gone again, leaving her alone. With the baby.
She felt anxious, uncomfortable. Unable to concentrate on anything. Her heart was pounding, her mind spooling through all the possibilities of what might happen. They could storm into her home, take the baby away from her. She looked down at it, sleeping again after her husband’s departure. She was still trying to feel something for it, something positive and nurturing, but it wasn’t happening. Maybe they should take the baby. Leave her in peace. In peace with her husband.
She closed her eyes, tried to call him. Nothing. No response. She called again, louder this time. Nothing. The baby stirred as she did so. She ignored it, waited, listening.
Still nothing.
A shudder ran through her. Maybe he had gone, her husband. Maybe he wasn’t coming back; maybe he had left her.
Her head was spinning, her mind reeling.
No. He couldn’t do that. Couldn’t leave her alone once more. Like it used to be. Like the old days. She tried not to think about those days, it just made her sad. Made her cry, if she thought about them too much. But she couldn’t help it.
She tried to block them out, but those times, years ago, when she was alone and afraid, scared and crying all the time, came into her mind. Before her husband turned up to love her, before they became one. There was an unpleasant emotion rising inside her, one that was mixed with loneliness and fear from the old days, one that she had dragged with her all her life. Her most hated feeling: fear of being alone. Of being unloved.
And now her husband was unreachable. And
Well she couldn’t have that. Couldn’t be left alone. It would kill her. She needed him. She had to find him.
She called for him, shouted as loud as she could.
Nothing.
