Where the Memories Lie
By: Sibel Hodge
Charlotte needs Nadia. She needs her family to stay together and support her through her illness. If she goes into remission it could take months of treatment, years, and she could still relapse and have to go through it all again. And if the treatment doesn’t work, well . . . Either way, how can I tear Nadia away from Charlotte when she needs her the most? None of this is Charlotte’s fault. How can I break up their family when they needed to cling on to each other tightly? Despite Lucas’s affair, which thankfully now seems to be over, he needs Nadia to be there, as well, to help him get through this. They all need each other.
Anna also needs to believe her aunt is all the things she seems: kind, compassionate, caring; the foundation that holds the Tates together. Ethan and Chris need their sister, too. Should all these people have to pay their own price if Nadia is convicted?
Tom knew what he was doing when he buried Katie. I don’t agree with it. Not any of it. But he knew. It was his choice. He lived by the code he’d always steadfastly believed in. He made that decision to cover up what Nadia did and stuck by it. It’s what he wanted. His sacrifice to his family. He’s paid the ultimate price to keep the truth from being discovered. He’s given his life so he can never reveal what really happened. Parental love is like nothing on Earth. Immeasurable in its strength. The fierce, burning need to protect. To do anything it takes to keep them safe. Tom’s love for Nadia. My love for Anna. Nadia’s love for Charlotte. The fallout from the world believing Tom was responsible is far less for us than it would be if they knew the truth. The Tates have suffered enough devastation as it is. Do we need any more?
286
Where the Memories Lie
I’m weighing up opposite ends of the scale in my hands.
Truth and lies. Justice and complicity.
It’s an impossible choice. Can I really let the truth go unpunished? Let a lie prevail?
I now believe there’s a hazy line between right and wrong. Am I walking on the right side of the wrong line, or the wrong side of the right line?
Life is messy. There is no black and white, only blurred shades that intermingle and co-exist. How can I destroy the people who mean more to me than anything in the world?
Our Range Rover pulls up at the crematorium behind the funeral car and it disappears into a tunnel marked ‘Private’.
Ethan parks and turns off the engine. He glances over at me and I’m lost in his eyes. My heart contracts with love. He isn’t just my husband. He’s my friend, my lover, my life. He means everything to me. I’d accused him of killing my childhood friend. Of killing his own father. Heinous crimes that I should’ve known he could never commit. I don’t know if I deserve his forgiveness, but I pray for it with all my heart. We have a lifetime of history. A lifetime of love and memories. You can’t just give that up. Things are far from perfect between us, but at least he’s talking to me again. At least he can bear to have me near him, and that gives me hope. I’ll work on that.
Whatever it takes. Piece by piece, I’ll do anything to rebuild the trust.
I touch his hand. He pauses for a moment and lets it rest there, his eyes fluttering closed before he gets out of the car.
I exit, too. Wrap an arm around Anna and kiss the top of her head.
So, yes, I’ll do this. For my family, I’ll do anything to keep them whole. Keep them safe. Just like Tom wanted. This time I can’t go to the police.
287
Sibel Hodge
Nadia, Charlotte and Lucas get out of Lucas’s car and greet us solemnly. Chris has refused to come. In time I hope he forgives Tom. Forgives me, too, for what I’m about to do.
Nadia’s gaze seeks out mine above Anna’s head. There’s a ques-tion in her eyes. I glance away.
‘Shall we go in?’ Ethan takes hold of Anna’s hand.
‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ I say.
I watch their retreating backs, their blackness making them look like a swarm of rooks.
Rose had made it clear to the police that she didn’t want anyone from our family to go to Katie’s service, but I still want to say my own goodbye to a friend I once loved.
I walk away from the building out into the gardens. I know which plot it is from DI Spencer, who attended her funeral. I head past engraved plaques and flowers and plastic toys and photos and balloons that people have left for their loved ones.
And there she is. Finally marked with a proper grave. A deserved resting place.