Eeny Meeny

10

Diane Anderson hadn’t seen her daughter for over three weeks. And she wasn’t seeing her now, even though Amy was pinned to her chest in a suffocating hug. They’d cleaned her up at the hospital – let her have a shower and hair wash – but she still didn’t look like Amy.

The attractive police officer – Charlie – had accompanied them home. She said it was to help Amy, to make her feel safe as she rejoined the outside world, but she was a spy. Diane was sure of that. There to wait, watch and report back. Her daughter wasn’t off the hook yet. The two uniformed officers stationed outside their door made that clear. Were they there to protect her, or stop her from running away? Still, at least they had seen off the press. A reporter from the local rag had resorted to shouting through the letterbox – asking in the coarsest terms imaginable why Amy had killed her boyfriend. The fact that the reporter was a young woman made it even worse – what possesses these people?

‘Amy shot Sam.’ That was how the stern one – Detective Inspector Grace – had put it. It didn’t make any sense. Amy would never shoot anyone, least of all Sam. She’d never even held a gun before. This wasn’t America.

She had turned to her husband, Richard, expecting him to correct the police, clear matters up, but his face had been the mirror of hers – blank shock. For a moment a flash of anger had coursed through her – Richard was never there when he was really needed – before she had pulled herself up and once again confronted the bitter present. Amy loved Sam. In many an idle moment, Diane had pondered what it would be like if – when – they got married. She’d always assumed that Amy would follow modern practice and cohabit without getting married. But Amy had surprised her by confiding that she definitely wanted to tie the knot, when the time was right. Typical Amy though, she would do it with a twist. There was no question of her wearing white and she was determined that Diane should give her away rather than her dad. Would Richard wear that? Would other people like it or would they think it odd? With a jolt, Diane realized she was daydreaming again. About a wedding that would never happen.

None of it made any sense. Sam wasn’t violent or aggressive, so it couldn’t have been self-defence. DI Grace had been infuriatingly tight-lipped about what had happened – ‘Better Amy tells you in her own time.’ But Amy hadn’t said a word. She was mute. Diane tried to reach her – by making her malt shakes, opening some French Fancies (a childhood favourite), kitting out the bedroom they’d now share with all her old toys and knick-knacks. But none of it had worked. So they sat there, a stilted threesome. Charlie perching on the end of the sofa trying not to spill her tea, Diane plating yet more unwanted cakes and Amy just staring into space, a shell of the vibrant girl she once was.