‘Let’s suppose I see to it that Jason is able to provide whatever you need for your precious baby sister,’ he says. ‘And you, too, of course. We can’t have you going without. And let’s suppose that you bring along some other friends next time you visit the barracks … Let’s suppose they understand this privilege comes with a price, 64of course, not just anyone can associate with these levels of intelligence … And let’s suppose, therefore, you and Kayleigh are able to live comfortably, perhaps even help your Ma – that is what you call her, isn’t it?’

I jump as Jason pulls himself into a salute again. In another world I might even laugh. He looks ridiculous, saluting at a blank wall, at least two feet taller than the half-man in the chair opposite. As ridiculous as the idea that I’ll take orders from some random I’ve never met, that Jason will make me follow them, that Ma will keep on losing what’s left of her mind just because some man who was never around in the first place ended up dead for some reason none of us could see, touch or feel. Let alone understand.

‘Is something funny?’

I squirm. There’s that weird grin again. It’s not ridiculous now. It’s nothing but real, and its meaning is unmistakable.

‘I’m glad to have met you, Carly. A sense of humour will be as valuable as discipline, as we move forward with our … arrangement, shall we say.’

I clear my throat, wiping my hands on my skirt.

‘Can I go now?’ I say, watching the half-man’s knuckles whiten on his wheels.

‘Of course,’ he says, finally letting one side go to extend a hand towards me, suspended in the air as we stare at each other. No one has ever shaken my hand before. It reaches out to him as if operated by someone else. All I can think about is Kayleigh. Her velvet skin. Her hungry cries, her blistered legs, her torn, stinking blankets.

‘You are here of your own free will, after all,’ he says, grip swallowing mine like a glove. ‘You can come and go as you please … so long as our needs are met, of course.’

My knuckles start to crunch and roll together as his fingers tighten around my wrist.

65

Marie ~ London ~ 2006

‘Nice job…’ Jemima crows, pausing the tape just as Beata blinks. Even though the frame is frozen, I know her eyeballs are still twitching beneath her lids. People with her story can’t close their eyes to their nightmares, even for a second. If this isn’t a money shot I don’t know what is.

‘We’ve got more than enough colourful stuff to play with. You are absolutely sure she is game for being on camera? She understands what that means, right?’