Disclaimer

18. EARLY SUMMER 2013

I sleep during the day now and stay awake at night. I like the dark. I am not alone. Nancy is with me and I have my laptop too. It is my pet — I use it to do my shopping, like sending the dog out to bring in the newspaper: groceries delivered to my door. What a clever chap. It’s mainly canned stuff. Like the war. Meat in tins. Chunky chicken. But it doesn’t matter what I eat, it all tastes the same because another flavour overpowers everything; even when I’ve brushed my teeth until the gums bleed, I can’t get the taste out of my mouth. It makes everything sour. And tonight it is particularly bad.

I have just read a review. Is it a nibble? By now she must know that Nancy is dead, so it is me she is talking to. I feel the twitch on my line. “There is a pain at the heart of this book which is undeniable. It is rare for a work of fiction to create such powerful feelings in its reader.” She’s called herself Charlotte. Is that an acceptance of her guilt? But the more I read it, the more I see it for what it is: “… such powerful feelings….” She doesn’t say what those “feelings” are. Powerful revulsion? Powerful loathing? I want precision, not vague feelings. I want shame, fear, terror, remorse, a confession. Is that really too much to ask? This little review has got right up my nose. It is just so, so carefully written: careful not to apologise, careful not to accept responsibility. I should have known that she would try to slither her way out of it. How dare she presume that her empty words, so nimbly crafted, will be enough? Even after all these years Mrs. Catherine Ravenscroft, award-winning documentary maker, mother of Nicholas the vacuum cleaner salesman, continues to twist the knife with her painted nails and her sly review. She has made a mistake by thinking that her pithy little missive will satisfy me. It has provoked me. It is an insult. I’m not interested in her acknowledgement of my pain. It’s too late for that now. She needs to feel it, to know what it’s like. Only then will I get through to her. She needs to suffer as I have.