‘I told you I’m not. And please don’t worry about me, I’m not worth worrying over.’
‘Why would you think that?’
He sighed and hung his head. ‘Just ignore me. Go back and enjoy the party.’
‘I can’t,’ she said, ‘not now. Something’s troubling you, won’t you share it with me?’ She sensed him hesitate. ‘Please, Stanley,’ she pressed. ‘There’s never been any awkwardness between us before. Don’t let that change.’
He didn’t respond. She let the silence continue, waited patiently for him to talk.
‘I can’t explain it,’ he said finally.
‘Try.’
He slowly raised his head. ‘It comes over me when I’m least expecting it. This ... sickening horror that I’m back where I was as a child, before I arrived at Island House.’
‘With your mother?’
He nodded.
‘The past can’t keep you hostage for ever,’ she said. ‘You mustn’t let it. You deserve so much more.’
‘Do I?’
‘Of course you do! Whatever that despicable woman made you believe as a child, it wasn’t true. Just look at the success you’ve made of your life.’
‘Most of the time that’s what I believe. But then from nowhere it’s as if she’s here with me, filling my head with her poison, convincing me I’m worthless.’
Annelise frowned. ‘When did this start happening?’
He shrugged. ‘Earlier this year, after I’d been to her funeral.’
‘Her funeral?’ Annelise was stunned. ‘You never said that you went to her funeral, or that you even knew she had died?’
‘I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want anyone to think that she meant something to me. I thought everyone here who had helped me might feel I was being disloyal.’
‘That’s madness, Stanley. Why would anyone think that?’
He sighed again. ‘Like I said before, I can’t really explain it. None of it makes sense. All I know is that the fear, once it gets a hold of me, is so real it makes me believe what she used to say. It churns me up so much that I’m physically sick.’
‘I hate to state the obvious, but you should see somebody about this.’
‘A trick cyclist?’
She gave him a tentative smile. ‘A doctor who can get inside your head and sort it all out for you.’
‘But it won’t change who I am, will it?’
‘It’s not about change, Stanley; it’s about acceptance.’
‘I still wouldn’t be good enough for you, would I, not compared to your clever friends in Oxford?’
She stared at her dearest friend in horror. ‘Oh, Stanley, you’ve got it all wrong. I’ve loved you like a brother all my life. You’re as dear to me as anyone ever could be. Truly you are.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it. I’m not myself.’
No, you’re not, she thought. But then perhaps that was the point. Who were any of them beneath the outer layers with which they equipped themselves?
Chapter Thirty
