I pick it up.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
DIARY OF JANICE ROTHSCHILD
Six months ago
Eighteen years exactly since we formally adopted Charlie.
Guilt no easier. Fear no easier. Periods lying awake at night getting longer. Averaging 3.5 hours’ sleep. Feel almost hallucinatory I’m so tired.
Problem is, I don’t think sleep’s going to come. BC what keeps me awake at night is the effort of trying to convince myself that Emily really was trying to suffocate Charlie.
I was certain once. When I walked into her room and saw the pillow over C’s face, I was certain. They questioned me; still certain. Drove home, certain. Told J – certain. Didn’t cross my mind I could have got it wrong.
When did the certainty begin to falter? Was there a moment when I began to question what I saw? If there was, I don’t remember it. All I know is that I stuck to my script and didn’t allow myself to think any further.
Until a few months ago. Her TV series was repeated; I was just flicking through the channels and there she was, marching along a cliff path, banging on about Cornish choughs.
Felt absolute dread, looking at her face on the screen. A turning point. I just stopped pretending. To myself, I mean. I just stopped lying.
She wasn’t going to smother him. She was too well by then – she was playing peekaboo. I heard her saying it as I came up the corridor. I started to smile because I knew it was her and Charlie.
But then there she was with a pillow over his face, and I panicked. Was awful. Deeply traumatic; I had nightmares about it for months after.
If I’d stayed there for a second longer, tho, she’d have whipped that pillow away and said, PEEKABOO!
And then Charlie wouldn’t have been my baby.
Don’t know where this is leading. Am I ready to come clean? Career would be over. Marriage would be over. Might actually end up in prison? Not sure? Probably not. But suspect Emily could sue me. I would, in her shoes.
Above all, would harm Charlie, probably force him to cut me out of his life, and then what would be the point in living?
And why ruin everything? Emily completely believed it, and still does. She so fundamentally doubted herself at that time, she took what I said as gospel – I read her statements. I got her text messages, begging me to adopt Charlie because she didn’t trust herself.
Emily’s life has been fucked ever since, tho, and the part of me that’s frozen over with horror at what I’ve done gets bigger every day.
Have interview withEvening Standardlater about the power of female friendship. A fucking irony.
Might see if I can privately get some antidepressants or maybe anti-anxiety stuff.
So much rage and hopelessness. Eighteen years, and it hasn’t got any easier, any better. I am still a monster.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
EMMA
I look up at Charlie, who’s watching me, face blank. Outside in the dark garden, John is barking at the tree, which he likes to do when the wind blows it back and forth.
A hot hollow has expanded in my chest.
‘Is there more?’ I ask.
‘Yes and no. She doesn’t say anything as open as that again. Basically, this is the bit you need to read.’
‘And you believe it?’ My voice is stretched nearly to breaking. ‘You think it’s the truth?’
‘I know it is. I confronted her.’
