‘Well, Ma needs a lobotomy, so she remembers what life is supposed to be like around here – you know, breakfast, lunch and dinner, showers, cleaning and shopping – the shit that army wives pick up even if they’ve been left solo and pathetic because it’s all in the name of empire, right? And Kayleigh, well, she could use some clean clothes, regular meals, a few toys and stories, some cuddles – everything we apparently got when we were little, before some war took over someplace and killed everyone. And I could do with going to school without wondering whether either of them are going to be dead too when I get back—’

The words are still in my throat as the door slams, shaking the walls but nowhere close to bringing them all down. I can hardly tell Jason what I really need, can I? He’d know if he hadn’t left us behind. Just like that, here we are again, suspended in the same spot on the same film, in the same endless looping nightmare; nothing to do and nowhere to be except wait for him to come back, or someone to change the tape. And in this town, it’s only war that ever really does that.

I cradle Kayleigh, untangling pale hairs from her chubby fingers as she swats at my head. At least Rach said she’d visit later. That’s a level up from nothing I guess.

23

Marie ~ London ~ 2006

Dominic kicks off his shoes, flinging himself on the bed. He’s either groaning or sighing – whichever it is, I wish I couldn’t hear it. My legs tremble as I turn away from him, propping myself against the window.

‘I forgot to get the Wi-Fi code,’ I murmur, breath fogging the glass as I stare outside. The cars on the tarmac below look like abandoned toys. I itch to poke them with a finger, knock one over, start a commotion somewhere else.

‘Good thing, too. Far too banal for a load of paedo kingpins, if anyone was honestly listening.’ I turn to see him sitting up, all socks and overcoat. ‘Didn’t you bring the laptop?’

‘No. I wasn’t carrying it to start with so…’

He groans again, flopping back on to the quilt.

‘We need to wait for Jonas anyway, don’t we?’ Just saying her name makes me prickle with relief. She won’t be, can’t be, more than a few more minutes. Then there’ll be three of us in here.

‘I suppose,’ he mumbles, sitting up again as he fiddles with the camera in his fly. ‘I’m taking this out now though. If only because I need a slash.’

I jump as there’s a soft tap on the door, relief curdling to alarm. It’s too soon for it to be Jemima.