Mindsight. Chris Curran

had roasted a chicken with all the trimmings and opened some wine. I knew she was trying to make this a celebration of sorts for my homecoming, but I couldn’t force much down. My mind whirled with it all, but mostly with the idea that Tom still believed I was innocent. At the trial I’d pleaded not guilty, but in prison I finally had to accept what Mike and the others told me: that my amnesia was caused by my inability to face the reality of what I’d done. I’d tried to explain it to Tom in my letters, and I cursed myself for not making it clearer.

      We didn’t speak much, but he ate well. When he’d cleared his plate he pushed back his chair, looking at Alice. ‘Got to do some homework,’ he said.

      As he thundered upstairs, Alice touched my hand. ‘It’s bound to be hard for him. Give him time.’

      ‘He thinks there could be some way to prove I was innocent.’

      She shook her head, and I followed her to the kitchen where she fiddled with a fancy-looking coffee machine. ‘I was afraid of something like this.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘He spends a lot of time at his friend Mark’s and, according to Mark’s mum, the two of them have started watching that bloody programme about miscarriages of justice.’

      I knew the one she meant; it was a favourite with some of the women inside. ‘But you should have told him there was nothing like that with my case.’

      ‘It wasn’t so simple, Clare. I tried, but what could I say? If your letters didn’t convince him how could I? I couldn’t tell him about your past, the drugs, and everything, could I?’

      ‘But you should have made him understand.’

      ‘Look Clare, it’s you who doesn’t understand. You haven’t lived with him all these years.’ She slammed a brimming mug on the table so that coffee dripped down the yellow stripes on the china. ‘He believes what he wants to believe. I tried to talk to him about it, but all he would ever say was, “My mum’s a good driver and when they find out she’ll come for me.” Lately he just won’t discuss it, not with me anyway.’

      I sat down, gulping at the scalding coffee. ‘I’m sorry. I know it hasn’t been easy for you.’

      She shook her head, looking suddenly very grey. ‘Tom’s a great kid and he deserves to know the truth. But that can only come from you.’

      ‘But I can’t remember, you know that. Just those few images I’ve told you about. I’m not even sure they’re really memories. I’ve heard so much about what might have happened that I could have invented them to fit.’

      Alice pushed her fingers through her hair. ‘Well, tell him what you do know then.’

      ‘Be completely honest, you mean?’

      She nodded, taking my hand and gripping it hard. ‘I’m sure most kids are wiser and more realistic than we imagine.’ I put my hand over hers and looked into her blue eyes. They were shining with tears and for the first time in years she looked like my little sister again. ‘Go on,’ she said, ‘speak to him now.’ She sniffed and smiled and when I stood she kept hold of my hand for a moment.

      I paused in the doorway of Tom’s room. It was the one the twins had always slept in when they stayed here. His choice or Alice’s, I wondered? At least I was thankful it looked different from the room where I’d kissed my boys goodnight so many times.

      It was large, like all the rooms in the house, and seemed larger with only one bed now instead of two. There was a distinct, though not unpleasant, tang in the air: a mixture of damp socks, orange peel, chocolate, and peppery sweat. The bed was rumpled, a shirt and a bath towel in the middle of the floor, but otherwise it was surprisingly tidy.

      The mantelpiece and the shelf next to it held a row of metal trophies and the walls were decorated by several large posters – The Hobbit, Hunger Games, and a couple of footballers.

      I noticed Tom’s hair still stuck up at the back and his shoulders, bent over the keyboard as he tapped away, were surprisingly broad.

      ‘Come in if you want,’ he said, making me jump and slop coffee onto the pale hall carpet. I rubbed it in with the toe of my shoe.

      ‘I’m just admiring your room.’

      ‘Oh that’s Martha, Mrs Cooper. She cleans up. But just in the week.’ A glance back at the messy bed and the clothes on the floor. ‘I’m s’posed to do it at weekends.’

      I stayed in the doorway, fingers pulling at the fabric of my dress. Say something. ‘How’s the homework going?’ Stupid, stupid idiot.

      Without looking at me he pushed at the chair next to him. ‘Nearly done.’

      I sat on the chair, put the coffee I couldn’t drink on the floor and sat watching as he did something complicated with a spreadsheet. ‘That looks impressive.’

      He laughed. ‘It’s not really.’ A glance at me. ‘But thanks anyway, Mum.’

      It was the name that did it, and I found myself burying my face in his hair, breathing in the musky boy smell, different to what I remembered, but not so different that I didn’t know it for the scent of my child. He tolerated it for a bit then twisted very gently away. ‘You all right?’

      When I could speak I apologised. ‘I’m silly I know, but it’s just so nice to hear you call me Mum.’

      ‘What do you expect me to call you?’ A long pause, his face and neck mottling pink. ‘Mum, do you – you know – often think about Tobe and Dad?’

      ‘Of course I do, but sometimes it hurts too much.’

      He looked at the floor, swinging his chair back and forth and chewing at his nails. ‘You know the party? The one I went to? Toby could’ve come too.’

      ‘But he didn’t and there’s nothing we can do to change that now.’

      ‘But Daniel’s mum wanted to ask him as well, and I said he wouldn’t want to come.’

      ‘Well that was probably right. He was excited about going to the Lake District on his own with the grown-ups. And Daniel was really your friend.’ I fought to keep the tremors from my voice.

      ‘But Daniel liked Toby a bit and he said his mum was going to ask Toby anyway, and I told him I wouldn’t be his friend anymore if Toby came. And then I told Toby Daniel didn’t like him.’

      I laid my hand on his back. His guilt seemed so ridiculous compared to mine, but it was clearly a huge burden to him. ‘Maybe it was a bit mean of you, but you weren’t to know what would happen. And don’t forget, Toby was sometimes nasty to you.’ Thank goodness he was still looking down and couldn’t see me shaking the hot tears from my eyes.

      ‘Yeah, well, that was why really. I wanted to get back at him cos he took my Gameboy and broke it.’

      ‘You were always breaking each other’s things. What about the time when you had kites for Christmas and you lost yours up a tree that same day? And then Toby laughed at you, so you trod on his.’

      ‘And when he kept stealing the batteries from my remote-control car, and I kept stealing them from the TV channel changer, and Dad went mad at us both, and you went mad at Dad?’ We laughed at that, although the laughter was forced. Then he turned to face me. ‘What about Dad? Only sometimes, when we were little, Tobe and me thought you might be going to get divorced.’

      I told him this was probably because of what was happening to the parents of other kids they knew. ‘Dad and I argued a bit, but all married couples do.’ I’d promised myself I’d be honest with him, but it was going to be so difficult, when I often didn’t know the truth myself.

      I took a breath. ‘Alice wants to take me back soon, but what about a quick walk?’

      We didn’t talk till we reached the little wood down the lane from the house.