The sounds of evening were barely detectable, a night-owl’s wings swaying the air. My mind returned to the courtroom and to Caleb in the dock. Beneath his suit, his swollen arms and legs were an obscene assortment of pallid, hairy sausages. Had he tuned out? Certainly, what affected him was not what affected me. The prosecution connecting Caleb’s behaviour changes to our marriage separation burned me to the quick. It was like being branded a bad mother.

We were constructed out of guilt, Caleb and me. Over again, I heard the worst facts about my failures with him, words spoken when Caleb seemed to have tuned out. ‘Mr Wharton decided not to go to university, to take a gap year. He hoped to use money from the sale of the Brunton house to pay for this,’ Charles had told the court. ‘But, under the terms of his inheritance, until he reaches thirty-five he cannot sell the house without his parents’ consent. His parents did not consent. Critically, as you will hear, he could claim money back from insurance. A possible motive for arson? The court will have to decide.’

I lay awake, impressions blending like nightmares. Birds in formation, flying, escaping, fleeing. The roar of fire. The scream of corrugated iron roofs ripped off houses. The obscenely loud shredding of trees torn from the ground. The horror of Caleb facing the judge like a bungee jumper at the edge of a cliff. He needed to take danger more seriously! It was a cliff! Caleb! You don’t have a rope! A young couple in their car, family and lives destroyed, was not the Millers, not the ghosts I saw at BuyCheap on the day of the fire, they were Stephen and me and Caleb, still an infant, strapped into his baby capsule. Doomed.

I was in my room, safe. Awake.

19

19

LUNA | Goddess of the Moon

Often depicted wearing a crescent moon helmet, reminiscent of horns, Luna drove a chariot pulled by horned oxen. Her temple was destroyed by Nero in his great fire.

WEDNESDAY

I’d been awake since Sunday and it was 2 am Wednesday. I was twelve hours beyond my health being affected. I knew this. Sleep doctors had told me, as though knowing could help. My white blood cell count was low, therefore my immunity was low. How would I cope in court, in just a few hours? I’d sit between Genevieve and Stephen again. Perhaps Ivy would come, hold Stephen’s hand, carry their child? Tomorrow I might have blackouts. I might even hallucinate.