The notebook and pen lie there untouchedat my bedside for the remainder of the morning and well into the afternoon. Iam very much aware of their presence but not sure whether I want to pick themup. After dinner it is almost an involuntary action, I reach over for them,deciding that where is the harm in writing a few things down? George doesn’teven have to see it I reason with myself; it could simply be for my benefit.
I start by writing snippets about mysiblings then become incredibly upset when I see Caroline’s name there in blackand white. I rip the pages out, scrunch them up, and hurl the balled-up paperacross the room in the general direction of the wastepaper bin. It takes sometime for me to gather myself again, a large part of me is thinking what thepoint of all this is? No amount of words written down in a notebook are goingto bring my sister back. Then I think of him, his cruel blow ending in herdemise and my subsequent hospital admission. It is enough for me to getmotivated to put pen to paper again.
I am simply amazed at how the words areflowing. From seemingly nowhere all of my worries and concerns are out there,laid bare for anyone to read. And it was true what George said, it wascathartic – it felt so good to let it all out. I realised I had lost track oftime for the dinner trolley arrived with my evening meal. I made short work ofpolishing off my food and went straight back to my writing. The words on those pageshad never been uttered to a soul outside of the confines of the croft. Mysiblings were obviously well aware of everything which had happened over theyears and we had many conversations about how we could bring father to justice.But we never quite knew how to go about it and were fearful of the consequencesif we did talk and it then backfired. I pause mid-sentence and let myselffantasise for a minute about handing this notebook to George who then notifiesthe Police and, finally, father faces his reckoning. George was an adult.Surely, they would listen to him more than they would listen to me? There wasabsolutely no chance mother would speak out against him and George seemed towant to listen to what I had to say. Should I place my trust in him?
It is clear to me that it is not onlyfather who should face up to his crimes. I blame myself wholeheartedly for whathappened to Caroline. If I hadn’t dropped her in it with father then led him toher, she would still be with us. She should still be here. It should be me deadand gone, a suitable punishment for my treachery. Why did they rescue me? Theyshould have left me for dead at Neist Point!
I write on and on until it gets darkoutside, motivated by the feeling that it was at least having some positiveimpact getting all this emotion down onto paper and by the prospect thatperhaps something may come of it if I chose to hand it over to the authorities.Perhaps both father and I would have our day in court?
Then came the really awkward part –writing about the events at Neist Point. I wanted to get it right and didn’twant to miss anything out, so I tapped into my memory and took myself back tothat fateful day. The pain and anguish were palpable as I relived it all again,but my pen flowed freely, all the events captured now in written word.
I did a fairly good job of holdingeverything together until I clearly saw her face again teetering on the cliffedge. Then it all became a blur as I broke down, becoming completely undone andtorn apart again. I was beyond hysterical and only began to slowly focus againwhen I heard my name being called …
I opened my eyes and found the source – itwas Juliet and, by her side, a concerned-looking James. From the depths ofdespair, the tide turned in a heartbeat and I wept tears of joy and happiness.I had no idea how they had managed to sneak out to visit me in hospital, but Iwas elated to see them. We embraced for a long time, so overwhelmed to bereunited together. The feeling was one of unity in our love for one another butalso in our shared loss of our dear sister.
I am relieved. Thereis no blame there. Clearly mother has given them an edited version of eventswhich doesn’t implicate me. I see no judgement in their eyes. They are as happyto see me as I am to see them. Whilst still feeling guilty about this, I amtemporarily relieved.
Once we gathered ourselves, Juliet was thefirst to speak: “Thomas, we have been so worried about you! He wouldn’t let uscome. Or mother, that’s why she’s not been to see you.”
“It’s OK, I knew that would be the case,but I hope you’ve not taken a risk coming here, I’d hate for anything to happento either of you for sneaking out to visit me.”
James this time; “No danger of that, theold lush is seven sheets to the wind right now!”
“Well, all the same, as much as I’d lovefor you both to stay, you shouldn’t stay too long in case he comes out of hisstupor and starts asking questions.”
“How are you feeling now?” asks an anxiousJuliet.
“Much better thanks.The pain in my head has eased somewhat so that’s good.” I decide to keep my newfriend Mr Traynor a secret for now. I haven’t decided yet whether to show himmy notebook, so I see no sense in delving into any of that with Juliet andJames at the moment.
James wastes no time. “Right, what are wegoing to do about him? He can’t get away with this!”
“That’s enough, James. Thomas is stilllying in a hospital bed, I’m sure that’s the last thing on his mind right now!”(Actually, it is at the forefront of my mind – that and my own accountabilityin all of
