Once

Forty Four

Elle didn't remember walking home. She didn't remember letting herself in through the front door, storming up the stairs, getting in the shower. She didn't know for how long afterwards she sat in her dressing gown on the edge of the bath, tears silently coursing down her face. She knew it must have been a long time. She had dried off completely, except for a very slight dampness in her hair. The light on the wall had changed, the shadows moved.

She pulled on an old T-shirt and shorts, dumping the clothes she'd been wearing in the laundry hamper. It was early evening. She could hear the TV on and the twins laughing downstairs. She hadn't even heard anyone come in.

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. The room had gone cold - or maybe she was just cold from sitting still for so long. She looked awful in the mirror. Pale and pasty. Just like Bianca Eirwen had looked when they found her last night. White as snow. White as death. White as that hideous witch's rotten white face.

With a deep breath she padded back to her bedroom. She just wanted to crawl into bed and never get out again. The only good thing, she told herself, was that things couldn't possibly get worse.

Her dad was sitting on her desk chair when she came into her room.

And she knew at once that things were about to get much worse.

He didn't even look up as she came in. She hovered in the door, waiting for him to start shouting at her. But he didn't. It was just like with David - when he spoke it was in a completely calm, emotionless voice.

"Sit down, Elle."

"Dad, I really don't have the energy -"

"I said sit down."

She could tell he'd been thinking for some time about what he was going to say, and there wouldn't be much she could say to stop him. She crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, staring down at the floor. For a few moments they both sat there, not looking at each other.

She sensed his head move, and she looked up to see him. There was this hard haggard look to his face, and somehow he suddenly looked much older. Maybe it was because she always thought of her dad as this ridiculous overgrown schoolboy, always making stupid jokes, never taking anything seriously. He was taking this seriously. It startled her - not just seeing him like this, but realising that everything she thought to be so sure and solid could be flipped on its head in a second.

She couldn't bear it, and felt as if she had to speak.

"It's about Kaye, isn't it?"

He took a deep breath, and answered her question with a different one.

"Do you know Kaye came to the bank this morning?"

A sort of half-memory came back to her - Kaye's car, parked just off Bank Street that morning when she'd met Jax and David in town. She hadn't even really noticed it at the time. Well, more accurately, she'd ignored it at the time.

"No, I didn't know that," she said.

"Well she did. It must have been just after you and her spoke. She was... upset."

She could tell from his tone that he was underplaying it. She could imagine Kaye storming into his office, making a scene, bawling her eyes out. Any other day she would roll her eyes at the notion, thinking Kaye was being ridiculous. Today the thought made her feel sick.

"I'm sorry, dad."

"You might well be sorry, Elle." He shot it at her like an accusation, and she flinched. "The thing is, I don't know if you even know why you should be sorry."