Finding Audrey

That night I come downstairs for a cup of hot chocolate and hear Dad saying, ‘Anne, I’ve ordered Frank a new laptop. There. I’ve said it. It’s done.’

Wow.

I creep forward and peer through the open door to see Mum almost drop her mug.

‘A new laptop?’

‘Second-hand. Excellent price. I went to Paul Taylor – he has some good deals—’ Dad breaks off at Mum’s expression. ‘Anne, OK. I know what we said. I know. But I can’t cope with the tension in this house any more. And Frank’s right, he does need the internet for his schoolwork, and he can hack into my emails, as we now know—’

‘I can’t believe you just went and did it.’

Mum is shaking her head, but she doesn’t sound quite as shrieky as I was expecting. In fact, she seems almost calm.

It’s eerie. I’m not sure I like Mum calm. She’s better all mad and voluble.

‘Is it so bad for Frank to play computer games once in a while?’ ventures Dad.

‘Oh, I don’t know, Chris.’ Mum rubs her face. ‘I don’t know any more. About anything.’

‘Well, nor do I.’ He pulls her in for a hug. ‘Anyway, I’ve got him a laptop.’

‘OK.’ Mum kind of subsides onto Dad and I can see how tired out she is. Frank said he’s never seen Mum like she was when I was missing. She was kind of grey, he said. And her eyes were flat inside, like their battery had died.

I’ll never get over doing that to them. But I’m not brooding. I’ve talked to Dr Sarah about it and we’ve agreed that the best way I can make it up to them is to stay well. Stay on my meds. Think healthful thoughts.

‘You remember that Christmas when they got ill?’ Mum says presently. ‘The year they were about two and three? Remember? And got poo all over their Christmas stockings, and it was everywhere, and we said, “It has to get easier than this”?’

‘I remember.’

‘We were cleaning it all up and we kept saying to each other, “When they get older, it’ll get easier.” Remember?’

‘I do.’ Dad looks fondly at her.

‘Well, bring back the poo.’ Mum begins to laugh, a bit hysterically. ‘I would do anything for a bit of poo right now.’

‘I dream of poo,’ says Dad firmly, and Mum laughs even more, till she’s wiping tears from her eyes.

And I back away, without making a sound. I’ll get my hot chocolate later.