Chapters (55)
- Cover
- ANNA WHARTON
- Dedication page
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Praise
- THE IMPOSTER
‘Do you still think that now?’
‘Not anymore.’
The two women’s gaits fall in line and they walk on, silently.
‘Now I think about it, maybe it was a bit bleak out here for me too before you arrived,’ Maureen says, looking down at the tarmac. ‘Patrick’s noticed. I know it worries him.’
There’s a beat before she answers. ‘Why would it worry him?’
‘After Angie, I was in a really bad way for a long time. I couldn’t accept that she’d gone and Patrick, he was my rock. I don’t know what I’d have done without him.’
Chloe knows she has prepared for moments like this, but she can’t remember what to say for the thud of adrenalin in her veins. Instead she listens. This is the first time that Maureen has talked to her about Angie, about what happened – what really happened.
‘Angie going, well, it took its toll on us, it was bound to.’
Chloe watches the tarmac, the dull grey of it allowing her to concentrate on every word that Maureen is saying. She’s already filing it away for her notebook.
‘I kept everything, kept her room, her toys, her books, her clothes, everything exactly how it was. Can you believe that?’
Chloe looks at her, but she’s not waiting for an answer.
‘But how long do you wait? How many years? I slept in her room, in her sheets until I realized that they didn’t even smell of her anymore, they smelt of me, and I realized I’d have to wash them, but then I’d be washing her away, and that was all I had left . . .’
She stops on the road, and Chloe stops too. Maureen covers her face with her hands. There is no other life around them except for long fine grass that sways gently at the edge of the road. Maureen sniffs and walks on.
‘Patrick was so worried about me. Sometimes he even said it: that I was clinging on to something – to someone – that wasn’t there any longer. But she wasn’t gone either, was she?’
Chloe shakes her head.
‘That’s the problem. We’re stuck in this no-man’s land, this place in between. We can’t move on – you feel guilty for moving on – but then how could we carry on doing anything that we’d done before when everything was because of Angie? And the guilt . . . you feel guilty for laughing – smiling even. Imagine that, feeling guilty for putting a smile on your face.’ Maureen shakes her head. ‘It’s no way to live. It’s wicked. It’s cruel, that’s what it is. I wouldn’t wish this not knowing on my worst enemy.’