Disclaimer by Renée Knight Read Free Book Online Page B

She might as well have said, ‘I’ve lost my mind.’ She wishes she could suck the words back, but they are out. Is this what she wants? To tell him? Now?
    ‘Darling.’ She hears confusion and anguish wrapped in the word as Robert drops the book back into the sink. She grabs at it with both hands, rushing it to the bin as if it is still on fire, and tosses it in. She pulls out the black bag and ties it up. All this done at speed, as if someone has pressed Fast-forward. She runs the bag to the front door and out of the flat, dropping it into the dust- bin outside and banging down the metal lid. Slower now, she walks up the steps into the hall and closes the door behind her.
    She can see Robert in the kitchen, watching her. He doesn’t move and neither does she. The length of the hall stands between them, a ten-foot space swimming with unspoken words. Catherine struggles to work out which ones to swallow, which ones to use. And once chosen, which order they should be in. She is the first to move, travelling through the hall towards Robert, her mouth open, gathering up words as she goes.
    ‘It was sent to our old address. To me. It’s about something that happened, years ago.’ She falters. ‘They’re trying to punish me.’
    ‘Punish you? Who’s trying to punish you?’
    ‘Whoever wrote the book.’
    ‘Punish you for what? Is it to do with a film you made? If it is, we should get the police involved …’
    ‘No, it’s nothing like that.’
    ‘Well, what then?’ He sounds impatient. He is tired. ‘Who sent it?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘What makes you think it’s about you?’ There is scorn in his question.
    ‘I recognized myself.’
    ‘Do they name you?’
    She grabs his hand, hoping it will give her strength to carry on.
    ‘No, they don’t name me, but they describe me and—’
    ‘Describe you? What – blonde? Middle-aged? For God’s sake, Catherine!’
    He takes his hand out of hers and sits down. She feels the words slip down her throat and anger rise up. She is angry with his ignorance. Blames him for not knowing. For not being there. For making it so hard for her to tell him. And now the moment has gone. She cannot tell him, not like this, and her speechlessness makes her weep. She sits down, and collapses, face on arms.
    ‘Oh, Catherine, Catherine. You shouldn’t have let things get this bad.’ His tone is softer and she feels his hand on her hair. ‘What is it about that book? Nick read it, didn’t he? That seemed to bother you. Why?’
    He waits for an answer and she forces herself to look up at him, her face soggy and flushed.
    ‘It frightened me … I saw something in it that …’ She pushes herself on, trying to tell him some truth. ‘It made me hate myself. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry …’ She falters; she can’t do it, so she tells him something she knows he will believe. ‘I’m being paranoid … it’s in my head, I can’t explain …’
    A moment’s silence, then he fills it.
    ‘Oh, Catherine, you don’t have to explain to me. I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to get angry, it’s just that I worry about you.’ He takes her hands in his. ‘I know it’s not been easy between you and Nick. It’s hard for you. You know he loves you though, don’t you? He and I find it easier to talk, that’s all.’ He puts his arms around her to soften his words, but they still make her flinch. ‘He can be tricky, I know that. I’m not blaming you. That book’s obviously triggered something … connected with you. What’s it about? Guilt? A mother and son?’ He waits for her assent and reads it in her silence. ‘You have nothing to feel guilty about, Catherine. Nick is twenty-five and it’s about time he moved into his own place. He can always come home to us if he needs to. We’ve still got a spare room.’ He takes her face in his hands and forces her to look at him.
    ‘The only one who’s punishing you, Catherine, is you.’ His voice is gentle.