The Sandman

120

Jurek is walking on the running machine. He looks stronger again. His strides are long and forceful, but his pale face is calm.

‘You’re disappointed in your father because he didn’t come home,’ he says.

‘I remember all those times I called him... I mean, I needed him.’

‘But your mother... where was she?’

Saga pauses, and thinks to herself that she’s saying too much now, but at the same time she has to respond to his openness. It’s an exchange, otherwise the conversation will become superficial again. It’s time for her to say something personal, but as long as she sticks to the truth, she’ll be on secure territory.

‘Mum wasn’t well when I was little... I only really remember the end,’ Saga replies.

‘She died?’

‘Cancer... she had a malignant brain tumour.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Saga remembers the tears trickling into her mouth, the smell of the phone, her hot ear, the light coming through the grimy kitchen window.

Maybe it’s because of the medication, her nerves, or just Jurek’s penetrating gaze. She hasn’t talked about this for years. She doesn’t really know why she’s doing so now.

‘It was just that Dad... he couldn’t deal with her illness. He couldn’t bear to be at home.’

‘I can understand why you’re angry.’

‘I was far too little to look after Mum... I tried to help her with her medication, I tried to comfort her... she would get headaches in the evenings, and just lie in her bedroom crying.’

Bernie crawls over and tries to sniff between Saga’s legs. She shoves him away and he rolls straight into the artificial palm.

‘I want to escape too,’ he says. ‘I’ll come with you, I can bite—’

‘Shut up,’ she interrupts.

Jurek turns round and looks at Bernie, who’s sitting there grinning and peering up at Saga.

‘Am I going to have to put you down?’ Jurek asks him.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Bernie whispers, and gets up from the floor.

Jurek starts walking on the machine again. Bernie goes and sits on the sofa and watches television.

‘I’m going to need your help,’ Jurek says.

Saga doesn’t answer, but can’t help thinking that she’d be lying if she says she wants to escape. She wants to stay here until Felicia has been found.

‘I think human beings are more tied to their families than any other creature,’ Jurek goes on. ‘We do everything we can to stave off separation.’

‘Maybe.’

‘You were only a small child, but you took care of your mother...’

‘Yes.’

‘Could she even feed herself?’

‘Most of the time... but towards the end she had no appetite,’ Saga says, truthfully.

‘Did she have an operation?’

‘I think she only had chemotherapy.’

‘In tablet form?’

‘Yes, I used to help her every day...’

Bernie is sitting on the sofa, but keeps glancing at them. Every now and then he carefully touches the bandage over his nose.

‘What did the pills look like?’ Jurek asks, and speeds up slightly.

‘Like normal pills,’ she replies quickly.

She feels suddenly uneasy. Why is he asking about the drugs? There’s no reason for it. Maybe he’s testing her? Her pulse-rate increases as she repeats to herself that it isn’t a problem, because she’s only telling the truth.

‘Can you describe them?’ he goes on calmly.

Saga opens her mouth to say that it was far too long ago, but all of a sudden she remembers the white pills among the long, brown strands of the shag-pile rug. She had knocked the jar over and was crawling around next to the bed, picking the pills up.

The memory is quite vivid.

She had gathered the pills in her cupped hand, and blew the fluff from the rug off them. In her hand she had been holding something like ten little round pills. On one side they bore the impression of two letters in a square.

‘White, round,’ she says. ‘With letters on one side... KO... I’ve no idea why I remember that.’