‘But when she did, what would she say about him?’
‘That everything she loves is taken away from her. So what’s the point in expecting more?’
I didn’t realise quite how alike she and I are. It’s sadly reassuring.
‘Do you know what happened to Bobby?’ Dahl asks.
‘I think he got poorly when he was sleeping because in the morning, he wouldn’t wake up.’
‘It’s commonly referred to as Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, or cot death,’ he says, then goes on. ‘What do you remember about that day?’
‘Mum screaming, Dad already being there, an ambulance arriving, me watching lots of Disney films at a neighbour’s house.’
So Dad was there when he died.
‘Do you think losing Bobby and your father leaving might be why your mum would have these depressive episodes?’
‘She still had me,’ I mutter.
Dahl continues to gently press me, encouraging me to open up about Bobby. But I must have had enough of his questions by then, as he receives short shrift from me for the rest of that session.
Back in the present, a yawn catches me. I am so drained, I want to turn off the Dictaphone and return to the moment before I joined Melissa in the sea at Brighton Beach. I wish I’d told her no, I wasn’t going into that water. How different things would have been. How differentIwould have been to who I am now.
One cassette remains, dated two weeks after these sessions began. I stare at it, preparing myself to tackle the final hurdle in this gruelling steeplechase.
‘Can you tell me about your friendship with Daisy?’ Dahl asks soon into the recording.
The girl Dad killed was my friend? I cock my head to the side, waiting for a reply. But my younger self says nothing.
‘I believe you and her were close?’
‘I don’t want to talk about her,’ I say, my tone flat.
‘For a while, she even—’
‘I don’t want to talk about her,’ I reply, a little louder.
Dahl often changes the subject when I sound uncomfortable, but eventually circles back to it. But not this time. He isn’t letting me off the hook.
‘I think it’s important that we find a way for you to talk about her, Damon, because of what happened,’ he continues. ‘You and I know what your father did ...’
A low humming is coming from the recording.
‘Damon,’ says Dahl.
The humming gradually becomes a little louder, so Dahl says my name again. Then I realise it is me making the noise. I’m shutting down. I turn the volume up to maximum before the recording suddenly falls silent. Is the session over so soon? I flash the torch light on to the cassette itself and see the spool is still half-full. I pick up the device and hold it closer to my ear.
A piercing scream erupts so loudly that I think it’s coming from here in the lounge. I drop the Dictaphone on to the floor in shock, and scramble to my feet as fast as my broken rib will allow. I shine the torch around the room, but I’m alone, it’s only me, no hallucinations. Now the recorded scream is joined by a loud clattering and smashing, as if objects are being thrown around. Dahl has raised his voice but I can’t make out what he’s saying before the recording suddenly goes silent.
What the hell happened back then?
I rewind the tape and play it again in case I’ve missed something. I’m desperate to hear more, but the rest of it is blank. ‘Fuck!’ I shout in sheer frustration.
The tingling sensation in my nose appears again, a warning of the nosebleed to come. I position myself and hold my raggedhandkerchief under my nostrils, but they remain dry. It leaves me with the makings of a headache though.
I glance at the time on my phone. It’s past midnight. I conserve my phone’s battery by moving it to low power mode before searching Google for Dahl’s name. But all I can find is a mention of his name in industry magazineThe Psychologist. It’s an obituary. Dahl died after a brief illness in 2017. He’s literally a dead end.
I need to rest. The heart palpitations that have come and gone in the last few months are back with a vengeance. Bruised ribs, torn neck ligaments and constant exhaustion are making me feel a hundred years old. I try not to think about my dead baby brother, my father the murderer, stabbing Mum’s boyfriend, killing that man in the car park, and why Helena isn’t here. It’s all too much for me to unpack.
