Mirrorland by Carole Johnstone (books for 6 year olds to read themselves txt) 📕

everything of hers to only me. None of it perhaps would have been enough. But her husband – her charming, handsome, grief-stricken husband; YouTube’s wailing widower – shagging her twin sister within days of her disappearance carried a deliciously scandalous weight that would not be moved. Even as I was testifying, I could see the jury members bristling.

‘That last night in Mirrorland, I want you to know that I would never … I would never have – everything just got out of hand, and you wouldn’t listen.’ He shakes his head hard. ‘But I let go, Cat. I let go. You know I—’

‘I don’t want to talk about that.’

He purses his lips, furrows his brow. ‘But I need you to believe that I wouldn’t—’

‘You wouldn’t have killed me.’ It’s an effort to keep my voice steady, neutral, because I’m not sure that’s true. But I believe he believes it. He believes that there was never a shining madness in his eyes, nor fat pulsing veins in his neck as he choked mine tighter. We only ever believe what we want – what we need – to believe.

He smiles. There’s a dried spot of blood under his chin, and I find myself wondering if he shaved for me again. But this time I don’t shiver. I don’t hate him any more. I’ve worked hard at not hating him. Perhaps too hard.

Under the table, I pinch my skin. ‘It’s kind of ironic.’ My voice is too high, too loud. ‘Me visiting you in prison, instead of the other way around.’

Ross flushes, and although his smile endures, it’s insecure, uncertain, hides its teeth. Should he laugh? Is it a joke? Is it a joke he’s supposed to laugh at? I’ve never been disposed to studying his reactions before, but now it’s as if every thought process is lit up in neon above his head. I wonder if he’s always had to pretend to be human, if it’s always been this obviously hard.

It suddenly occurs to me that the prison might be listening in on our conversation. Is that allowed? The possibility makes my heart beat too fast again; cool sweat slides between my shoulder blades. Ross looks at me, and I reach for my calm, my anger, because it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but the choice I’m here to make.

I lower my voice, soften my tone, look into his eyes as if I want to. ‘There are some things I need to ask. Things I need to know. And I need you to tell me the truth.’

Ross casts his gaze quick around the room. ‘I’ve told the truth, Cat.’

‘Then it should be easy.’

He blinks. ‘And then can we start over?’

‘I don’t know what happens next yet.’

‘Okay.’ Another smile. When he sees me hesitate, he leans even closer. ‘I didn’t kill her. I swear it, Cat. I didn’t kill El.’

‘That’s not what I want to know.’

He can’t hide his surprise, his relief.

‘Why did you drug us?’

When he immediately shakes his head, I stand up fast, start moving away from the table.

‘Wait. Wait!’ His shout is loud enough to attract the attention of the prison guard closest to us, tall and bored and chewing gum. Ross shows him the palm of his hand and drops his head down, stares at the table between us. ‘Please, Cat. Sit down. I’ll tell you the truth.’

I sit down.

When Ross finally looks up again, his eyes are blurry. ‘Because I wanted you to stay. I always want you to stay.’

‘You didn’t think we’d stay without being drugged?’

‘I know it was wrong, weak. But when Mum left – when she just woke up one day and decided to take me and leave Dad, it shocked me. That someone could do that and never look back.’ He closes his eyes tight like a child. ‘And then, after he killed himself, it terrified me.’

He reaches his hands across the table. His nails are ragged. ‘When El was – when she got depressed … I got scared. I didn’t know what to do. I thought she might try to hurt herself again. I just wanted to look after her, to help her, that was all.’ He leans closer. ‘And with you … I was so scared of losing you again – I could feel it happening. Because when you went to America, Cat’ – he swallows – ‘you never once looked back. Not once. But I’m—’

‘Why did you want me?’

‘What?’ The confusion is back. His hands are reaching for me again, though I don’t think he knows it. ‘Because I love you. I’ve always loved you. You know that.’ He holds my gaze, until I feel something inside me giving way. This is Ross, it says. But straightaway, I harden against it. The reflex and the longing.

‘Then why did you choose El instead of me? Why was it always her?’

For a moment, he’s silent, but the neon over his head is still flashing panic, uncertainty. What does she want me to say?

‘Was it because you wanted her more? Or because you loved her more? Or maybe because she needed you more than I did? Or you needed her?’ I force myself to relax. ‘Just tell me the truth, Ross, that’s all. Not what you think I want you to say, or what you think is the right thing to say. Just the truth. That’s all I want.’

The brightness that comes into his eyes then has all the confidence of someone who’s sure their answer will be all three: what I want, what is right, and the truth. He beams all that brightness onto me. ‘I didn’t love her more than you, you know I didn’t. I did love her, but with you it’s always been different. Easier. Better.’ His smile is sad, eager. ‘I chose El because you’re right, she needed me more than you did. I couldn’t leave her. I couldn’t.’

I let out a long, slow breath. ‘That’s what I thought you’d say.’

He hears something in my voice, some remnant of anger