The Lake by Louise Sharland (best ereader for pc txt) 📕

But even then, the money was basic, and certainly not enough to keep a house and two children. Food parcels were regularly left at our back door: homemade bread, casseroles, the occasional cake. Also left were bags of hand-me-down clothing: skirts, blouses, cardigans, shoes. I don’t think I had a pair of shoes that fit properly until I was sixteen.

My mother accepted their charity with reluctant grace, but underneath she seethed at the unbearable humiliation, growing angrier and more bitter every day. She became like one of those homemade apple dolls: faces carved out of fruit and left to wither and dry until they take on the appearance of a wizened old woman. After we were cast out, her drinking got worse, and that, along with our lack of connections outside the Brethren, made it even harder for her to find work. Eventually we were forced to live on benefits, a further humiliation.

The additional benefits I brought in as a single mother in education were also crucial, and even though I desperately wanted to find a little flat of my own, just me and Michael, I knew I couldn’t leave her. Grace, just a silhouette on the horizon – a voice on the phone espousing the virtues of freedom and a fun time – had absolutely no relevance to my life. My plan was clear: finish my A Levels, get a place on a nursing course, get a job, and get out. I was perfectly happy to play the long game; I always have been.

My brain feels heavy, overburdened. I know I will have to deal with it all, but maybe a little later. I wonder if it’s too early to have a drink. My mobile goes off; the ringtone tells me that it’s Grace calling. I could ignore it – that would be so much easier – but instead I push the little green circle with the phone icon on it. I have a few things I want to say to her.

‘Kat, it’s Grace. I’ve been trying to reach you for ages.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

There’s a long pause. ‘I guess you know about Adam.’ Grace sounds uncomfortable. ‘And the diary thing.’

‘Yes.’

‘I didn’t mean to tell him, Kat. I really didn’t.’

I smile grimly to myself. ‘Adam has a way of getting things out of people.’

‘When he called me last night to say that you hadn’t come home, I was really worried.’ She rattles out the words, rat-a-tat-tat. ‘You said you were driving to Falmouth and I thought you might have had an accident or something.’

‘I got home late and forgot to call.’ I feel as if I’m reading the lines from a script.

‘He was in a real shitty mood when I spoke to him.’

I rub my aching shoulders. ‘I know.’

‘Did he give you a load of aggro over the phone?’

‘It was in person actually.’

‘What?’

‘Adam drove down, late last night.’ I long to add Giving me hell over the phone just wasn’t enough for him, but I stop myself. The more you say …

‘Oh God,’ Grace sounds remorseful. ‘I never thought he’d do that. Are you all right?’ I don’t answer. ‘I’m so sorry Kat. I should have never left you on your own. I told Adam that it was probably all a bit too much for you. I mean the last thing we want is for you to get ill again.’

Here we go. Let’s all just revert to the familiar scenario of Kate as the helpless lunatic: weak, unbalanced and unreliable. I feel so, so tired. I search through my bag for the blister pack.

‘Only three left.’

‘What?’

I hadn’t realised I had spoken aloud. ‘Nothing.’

‘I just feel so bad for leaving you to handle it all,’ continues Grace.

I love my sister, and respect her enormously, but at this very moment I couldn’t give a toss how she’s feeling.

‘Kat? Are you there?’

‘Why did you tell him?’ I ask. ‘About the diary?’

There is another long pause and I hear my sister sigh. ‘I’m worried about you, Kat – about the effect all this might have on you. All that stuff you told me about Michael, about this Diving Fish girl. It just sounded—’

‘Crazy?’

‘No, not crazy,’ says Grace, almost too quickly. ‘Just … not healthy.’

‘And did you really think telling Adam would help?’

‘Well, I just—’

‘After everything I told you at the hotel about him refusing to let me hire a private detective, and not supporting me?’

‘Kat, listen to me.’ Grace’s voice has grown stern. ‘I simply said I was worried about you and when he asked me why, I mentioned the diary.’

I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks. ‘Why does everyone want to stop me feeling anything? Michael was my son – my boy – and I lost him. I will be experiencing this for the rest of my life. I’d rather have painful memories than nothing.’

‘I thought it would be too much for you.’

‘Why couldn’t you just give me the benefit of the doubt?’

‘It’s just so—’

‘Mad?’

‘Oh, come on, Kat!’

It’s as if I’m leaning against a brick wall in winter – I can feel the heat seeping from my bones. ‘I’m the one dealing with this, Grace, and as far as I can tell I’ve been doing okay. I wish, instead of expecting the worst, everyone would just cut me a bit of slack. Maybe then I wouldn’t forget to go home for tea, or forget to call Adam!’

‘Kat, I’m sorry.’ Grace’s tone has changed from stern to desperate.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Why don’t Adam and I draw up some sort of rota to make sure you’re not on your own?’

‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, Grace, and considering the circumstances I think I’m allowed at least one lapse of judgement without people turning it into a complete drama.’

‘We overreacted, Kat – clearly we did.’

‘I’ve got to go.’ Something about the way I say the words seems final. Grace senses it too.

‘I’ll see you soon, Kat. Ellie’s staying at her friends for a couple of days next week, so I’m hoping to get some