‘And there are pills I can take; I’ve been looking into it . . .’
I shut my eyes. Think of the easy humour of Kit’s mango emojis.
‘Then, there’s Bella.’
The girl in the field.
‘Now, I don’t want you worrying about her, she’s not a patch on you, she’s quite slow really, she doesn’t have the mind for science, but she could be useful in other ways . . .’
I picture her then, the stack of bracelets on her arm, hands outstretched for the flutter of a butterfly and my insides run cold. Because I do not see what Daniel does – Lolly 3.0, another version of myself. I see my children – Millie and Faye are closer to Bella in age than I am. Motherhood, once my enemy, saves me now. My voice is suddenly high and clear. ‘I have a gift for you. It’s at the bottom of the cellar.’
His confusion lasts for no more than a second; of course he’s convinced me; everything is forgiven, forgotten. His socked feet swipe wet glass off each step as he goes down. He finds the silver Thermos at the bottom. Twists it open. ‘What is it?’
‘A smoothie,’ I say. Except this time, I haven’t bothered to mask it with mashed banana and berries, it’s pure smashed flower, stem, root. ‘You don’t remember, do you?’
‘What?’
‘The night before I disappeared, you had stomach cramps, you were vomiting.’
‘I had a bug. You had it too.’
‘But I didn’t have a bug, remember? I had morning sickness.’
He stares at me, uncomprehendingly.
‘There was a train to Wyatt. I knew you’d never let me go so I got you out of the way.’
‘You got me out of the way?’ he repeats.
‘I had to. I asked Alex to come and pick me up.’
He backs into the shelves, the bottles shifting behind him. ‘Stop talking like this, stop it, it wasn’tyou, it washim, he took you from me.’
‘That’s what you still think? After all these years? You’re so blinded by the fantasy of Lolly, you never figured out it was me who arranged everything.’
‘No, no, you wouldn’t. I know you.’
‘Not all of me. Not the bits that don’t fit. Like the fact that I’ve been poisoning you ever since I met you in London. You’ve been itchier since you met me, haven’t you? The rashes on your wrist, on the back of your neck? That was me.’
His hand moves protectively over his skin.
‘At your house a few weeks ago, I almost killed you with that smoothie I made you. And the night before I disappeared, I made you another.’
He blinks at the hideous gloop of it.
‘The poison in there is the same I used eighteen years ago. Ironic because it was you who got me into poisonous plants. All those books you bought me. I saw the plant instantly, it was blooming just outside the cottage. Lots of poisons taste quite bitter but hemlock water dropwort tastes like parsley. You didn’t suspect a thing.’
He puts his hand to his throat. Like he can feel a noose.
‘It’s the oenanthotoxin, it affects your central nervous system. The first time I gave it to you, I just put in a few leaves, I didn’t want to kill you, just delay you and it worked, you had abdominal pain, nausea, vomiting. But this one, I haven’t diluted and I’ve included the roots, so you’ll feel the more serious symptoms quickly – slurred speech, seizures, cardiovascular issues. It shouldn’t take too long.’
His eyes on me are tunnels. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Lauren.’
He laughs, a laughter that slides into crying, hoarse and ugly and wet. His powerful chest is heaving, his astonishing eyes are shut, and it is magnificent and terrible, like seeing a mountain suddenly cave in. ‘You said you loved me.’
‘Yes.’