Am I Guilty?. Jackie Kabler
was to see her happy today – I’d been worried, after last night, she would be low, but she’d bounced downstairs this morning with a cheery greeting and a wide grin.
We’d spent the evening before together in a restaurant – as planned, I’d left Greg with the kids, and Flora and I had gone for dinner in Cirencester, taking a taxi so we could both have a couple of glasses of wine. It was a little Italian place I liked, family-run, producing delicious meat and fish dishes along with perfect pizza and pasta from a tiny kitchen out back.
At a little corner table near the open fire we’d sipped Pinot Grigio and chatted about work for a while, giggling about an incident the day before when an extremely grumpy man had managed to get stuck in a toilet cubicle at the opening of a new fashion boutique in Chipping Norton.
But once our starters – bruschetta and a fresh insalata tricolore – had been devoured, and the mains of penne arrabbiata for Flora and some salmone con spinaci for me had arrived, I took a deep breath.
‘Flora … look, I haven’t asked you about this, not really … I didn’t want to upset you, not when it was all so fresh. But now … well, it’s been a few months, so I wondered … do you feel able to talk about it? That day at Thea’s, when … when the baby died?’
Flora, who had just speared a piece of penne with her fork, moved it slowly to her mouth, chewed and swallowed, then put the fork back on her plate.
‘I … I suppose so. Yes. What do you want to know?’
‘I’d just like to know how … well, how it actually happened, I suppose. How things unfolded that day. It’s a while to the trial yet, when it will all come out, and it’s just that there’ve been so many rumours, you know? So many different stories flying around, for months. And all the abuse Thea gets … I mean, I know Greg and Millie were there, but they aren’t even sure exactly how it happened – Millie was upstairs playing with Nell, and Greg was out in the garden with Rupert, so they were never able to tell me much, just how horrible and sad and scary it all was. I’d like to know the truth, Flora, so at least then maybe I can put people right if I hear them talking rubbish about it …’
I was looking at her warily, nervous that I’d overstepped the mark, that she’d close up and retreat back into the shell she’d often seemed to be in when she first joined us. But to my relief, she looked back at me, nodding slowly.
‘I get that. That’s nice of you, Annabelle. And no, I don’t mind talking about it, not really.’
And so, she told me. In a low voice, conscious of the other diners, even though the restaurant was half empty and there was really nobody within earshot, she told me the whole, horrible story. Told me how, that day, the fourth of September last year, the weather had been hot, really hot, one of the hottest days of the summer, and unusually hot for the time of year. I remembered it – the fourth had been a Monday, and I’d been rushing around town in the heat, buying pencil cases and lunch boxes, white ankle socks and navy PE shorts, sweating over the last-minute back-to-school buys before term started for Millie and Oliver on the Wednesday.
Thea had been out for lunch in Charlton Kings with Isla Laird, and they’d taken Nell and Zander with them, Flora said – an end of summer holidays treat for Nell, who liked doing grown-up things, a lovely long lunch in the sunshine outside that restaurant out on the London Road, the one with the big garden out back, a nice place to sit in the sun, and enjoy good food and an excellent wine list.
They’d sat there for a couple of hours, Isla and Thea knocking back champagne, celebrating some big interview Isla had landed for her chat show.
‘Thea wasn’t a big drinker normally, unless Isla was around … well, not back then anyway. She drank a lot more afterwards, to forget, I suppose,’ Flora said. ‘But Isla … well, I like her, you know? I’m not saying I don’t. But she … well, she wasn’t a great influence on Thea sometimes, not when they were out together. Isla loves to drink, and she can really put it away, and Thea sometimes just got carried away with it. And well, it’s nice, isn’t it, sitting in the sun, drinking champagne … I suppose you can understand why she might have had a bit too much?’
I nodded, reaching for my glass of wine and taking a sip, but secretly thinking: No. No, not really, Flora. And I don’t think you think it’s understandable either, you’re just being diplomatic. Because it’s not OK, is it? Not when you have a young daughter and a baby son with you. Getting drunk in the sunshine, when your kids are there? I can’t understand that at all.
She ate another piece of pasta then continued, telling me how Thea, Isla and the children arrived home around three o’clock, Thea driving, despite having been drinking heavily.
‘I didn’t know that, of course, at the time – that she’d driven, or even that she’d been drinking so much. I only realized that later, when Isla told me, after … after … Anyway, I didn’t actually see them come in – I was upstairs, in my room where it was a bit cooler, because I’d kept the curtains drawn. I was sending some emails and sorting some deliveries that had arrived that morning, and I wanted to get it finished so I could go out for a run a bit later on, when the temperature had dropped. But I heard them get back – Isla and Nell came in first. They were both shrieking and giggling, yelling that they were desperate for the loo and racing each other. It made me laugh … Isla isn’t that fond of kids, she sort of tolerated Nell as opposed to really getting on with her, you know? Didn’t normally pay her much attention. But they seemed to be having fun that day.’
Flora stopped talking, a little sigh escaping her lips. She gazed down at her plate for a moment, then lifted a corner of the white linen napkin that lay on her lap, twisting it around her fingers. Then she took a deep breath and carried on.
‘I heard the door slam a minute or so later and assumed that was Thea, bringing Zander in. I didn’t come downstairs for about another half an hour, and by then Thea and Isla were crashed out in the sitting room. They’d opened a bottle of wine, and it looked like they’d already downed most of it. Isla was nodding off, just barely awake, and Thea was already sound asleep, all sprawled out on the sofa. I popped my head in, but Isla just opened her eyes for a minute and hissed at me to sssssh. So I took Nell out of the room and told her to go and play quietly upstairs, leave them to it. It didn’t seem right, her sitting there with two drunk women.’
Flora stopped speaking again, her fingers plucking at the napkin. My insides had begun churning as I listened, my appetite for the delicious meal in front of me rapidly waning. I knew the outcome of this story, but hearing it unfold like this, step by step, was proving to be harder than I had expected. I suddenly wanted her to get to the end, for this to be over, but I stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt as she relived the nightmare.
‘Rupert came home a while later, just before five, and I told him not to disturb them – Isla had totally conked out by then as well, and I thought it might be best to let them sleep it off. The kids seemed fine – Nell was up in her room and … well there was no sound from Zander, so I assumed he was asleep in his pram … I … well, I just did. Isla had gestured towards the pram when she was sssshing me, so I just assumed …’
She swallowed hard, even though there was no food in her mouth, her eyes fixed on her plate, then she dropped the crumpled napkin, her left hand moving to her right wrist, rubbing the small scar she had there as if it had begun to ache.
‘Flora, honestly …’ I started to speak, wanting to say something, to reassure her, to tell her she didn’t have to go on if this was too difficult, but she held up a hand, silencing me. My mouth was dry, my fingernails digging into my palms now, my heart pounding, and suddenly I desperately wanted this story to have a different ending to the one I knew was coming, a horror movie with the inevitable imminent shock playing out in front of me.
‘Then Greg and Millie arrived. That must have been about five thirty, I reckon. I think Millie and Nell just wanted a quick catch-up before they went back to school – see each other’s new shoes and school bags, something like that?’
‘Yes, they did,’ I said, remembering.
Millie