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Rachel
‘Rachel, are you familiar with the term somnambulism?’
‘I’m not, no, sorry.’
‘Sleepwalking.’
‘OK… but I don’t sleepwalk.’
‘Not in the sense of going for walks while you’re asleep. But you’ve described waking up in strange places with no memory of falling asleep, hot flashes, night sweats et cetera.’
‘Yes, but most women my age have to put up with all that.’
‘Agreed. And many other symptoms besides. You’ve described falling into deep sleeps during the day, sleeps that you described as being pulled into the underworld by Hades himself.’
‘Oh God, aye. Like being sucked into the sofa by a big Hoover attachment – I suppose that’s less poetic.’
‘Another common symptom of menopause is the occurrence of these… attacks, almost, of tiredness. This is obviously exacerbated by difficulty sleeping at night, night terrors or nightmares. You’ve told me about dreams concerning invisibility, yourself wielding a knife, and these nightmares are all part of the storytelling I mentioned, the stories our mind tells us, the processing of things we find difficult or stressful, and in your case, traumatic. I think it might be possible that you’ve been experiencing catatonic episodes, where you simply fall asleep and wake up later wondering how long you’ve been there.’
‘That might’ve happened in the graveyard, mightn’t it? Well, it could’ve done. I was never sure whether I’d strangled him or not, though you’re saying I didn’t.’
‘There were no marks on his neck, Rachel. In your story, you describe yourself waking up still behind the gravestone. Which leads us to your encounter with Anne-Marie Golightly and her subsequent murder.’
My throat thickens. ‘Anne-Marie.’ Her name sets me off again. ‘She was a nice, nice woman.’
‘You’ve told me a lot about your friend Lisa. You love her. She’s a huge point of reference for you. Your best friend.’
‘She was until I realised she was shagging my husband. That sort of thing’ll come between you. Sorry for saying shagging. It’s vulgar. Sorry.’
‘That’s all right. Do you know for certain she was… involved with your husband?’
‘Why else would she not mention where she was, only for me to see her heading away from our house in her car? Why else would Mark make no mention of her having been there? And the two cigarette stubs in a saucer in the kitchen. You could say that was perfectly innocent, and it would be if either of them had said something. But they didn’t, did they? She’s always had a soft spot for him, and now her husband’s gone, she wants mine.’
‘Can you think of any other reason why Lisa might have been seeing Mark and not telling you?’
‘No.’ I fold my arms. ‘What’s this got to do with me killing people?’
‘Nothing. It has to do with how we read events. In their statements, both Mark and Lisa have expressed concern for your well-being.’
‘Oh yes, I know all about that. Power of suggestion, isn’t it? That’s all it is. Tell someone they look green around the gills enough times and they’ll be down the doctor’s wanting a prescription. I know what her game was. Trying to make me think I was losing it, get me shipped off to the nuthouse so she could move in with Mark. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was her that put the knife in my bag, trying to send me round the…’
‘What is it? What is it, Rachel?’
I shake my head. I have no memories of putting that knife in my bag.
‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘Did they match the knife to the… to the killings?’
‘They never found the knife.’
‘Right, well there you go.’
‘Rachel, is it possible that you might have underestimated how much your friend and your husband care about you? A huge loss of self-worth, often accompanied by paranoid thoughts, is common in moments of anxiety and trauma. Both of them have said that they met up without your knowledge to discuss how worried they were about your state of mind. They kept this secret because they didn’t want to frighten you. The time you saw Lisa driving away, she and Mark had made the decision to call a doctor and both felt conflicted by that. They didn’t know how to handle the situation. Lisa has said that she hasn’t known how to stay close to you. Mark has expressed this too. They wanted to alert a medical professional not so they could continue an affair but because they love you. They love you, Rachel, and they know your history. They’re both devastated that you’ve turned yourself in.’
‘So you’re telling me there’s nothing between them?’
‘Nothing. Other than decades of love for you.’ Amanda stands, goes to the door, opens it. I hear her murmuring to someone in the corridor. She comes back and picks up her pad, sits and writes something down. Outside, traffic passes, the sky darkens shade by shade, inching towards another night. I can hear what she’s told me as if she’s still saying it; the words are still falling in the air. Like blossom. Like snow. I don’t know how long I’ve been in this place. Blue Eyes Frost is not a policewoman, she’s a forensic psychiatrist. Her kindness is a tool of her trade, that’s all.
The door handle rattles. A woman comes in with two cups of what smells like coffee and puts them on the table.
