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‘You told Anne-Marie you had two children.’
‘I… I did.’
‘You told Ingrid that your son was at university.’
‘I did.’
‘Can you tell me what these newspaper clippings relate to?’
The breath stills in my chest, shudders out of me in a heavy rush.
‘My son,’ I manage. ‘I can’t. I can’t.’
‘I understand. It’s a difficult thing to say, Rachel. You’ve found it impossible. As have Mark and Katie. The three of you haven’t spoken about Kieron at all, have you? About his death. Is it possible you haven’t been able to believe it?’
‘I don’t know. I just… can’t talk about it. I don’t want to.’
‘Can you tell me? Can you tell me now, do you think?’
I close my eyes. Time stills in the silent room. I think of Kieron’s bedroom door at home. I think of my hand on the door handle, the breath caught in my chest. I haven’t been into that room for a year. I can’t go into that room. I cannot.
‘Rachel? I know this is harder than you can bear, but if you can articulate it, it will help, I promise.’
‘It won’t bring him back, though, will it?’
‘No. No, it won’t. But it will help you to grieve. It’ll help you to get to the bottom of all of this.’
‘He was murdered.’
‘Who was? Can you tell me who?’
‘My son. Kieron. He was stabbed outside a bar in London.’
‘Yes. Yes, he was, Rachel.’
Outside the silent room, the intermittent hum of traffic. I glance at the window, hoping to see the fly. But it isn’t there.
‘He’d only been away from home four days,’ I hear myself whisper. ‘It was freshers’ week. He’d gone on a date with this lad he’d met. He texted me. He sounded happy. Like he was making friends, having a good time. As he came out of the bar, him and his friend were set upon. His friend managed to get away, but Kieron… he didn’t. He didn’t get away. They rushed him to hospital but… he didn’t make it.’
The room is silent. Outside, the droning of the cars. Life continuing as if nothing has happened. How can life continue as if nothing has happened?
‘You’ve been incredibly brave, Rachel. You’ve found words you never thought you’d find and you’ve said them out loud. There are other things you can’t imagine you’ll ever do, but you will. I think this is the heart of all of it. Kieron. Your son. Your son is at the heart of this.’
I am nodding. My jogging bottoms are spotting with tear drops.
‘The attack on Ian Brown,’ she says. ‘It’s the only one you remember clearly, is that still the case?’
‘Yes. The others are just… they’re just… images.’
‘And you remembered that attack after you’d read about it in the news.’
‘Yes. That’s when it all came flooding back.’
‘You remembered being in the pub, and taking the boy to the pond where you took Joanna. You said he reminded you of your son, even though physically they were not alike.’
‘Something about him. And he was gay as well, like our Kieron.’
She shifts in her chair, leans forward with her hands clasped together in front of her.
